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giggles-and-freckles · 4 years

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Okay woohoo some fic recs incoming!!!! These will probably be all over the place, but I’ve just got to scream about them for a second!!! PS gonna try to do these more frequently because this is fun!!!

Click below the cut if you dare!

Declarations by Nny11

Summary: A series exploring Obi-Wan and Ahsoka's relationship as Grandmaster and Grandpadawan.

Okay, so this is one of the first fics I can genuinely remember reading with a heavy emphasis on the relationship between Obi-Wan and Ahsoka where I was like 'hey oh my god I love them?’ It was a monumental moment for me because now I am so obscenely ride or die for them and I truly do think back to this fic often with utter fondness.

A moment I loved:

“From a certain point of view,” he finally conceded, motioning her to start again. “At least I know you’ve learned something from me!”

“Well I couldn’t learn the secrets of your hair routine!”

the flood comes rushing in by @kenobilovebot

Summary: "I have done this for you. I have put you first." Or, Anakin finds out.

A little bit of sith!Obi-Wan? As a treat? Hm, well...all right!!!!! I don’t want to say too much here because I would really prefer you read it than read any more of my mindless babbling but–it’s good.

A moment I loved:

He can hardly think around the smothering darkness that has so wholly encompassed his master, so effectively destroying the light that has always been. He’s always been able to reach for it at the worst of times. Now he can’t feel it at all.

a time to say goodbye by Sokaless

Summary: Ezra isn't the only one facing the temptation of change in the World Between Worlds. Just minutes after facing Vader, Ahsoka falls through a portal seventeen years into the past and must relive her final encounter with Anakin and Obi-Wan without drastically altering the future. But Anakin Skywalker taught her many things. How to push her luck was one of them.

This is a short and sweet time-travel fic that finds Ahsoka back in that moment in the hangar with Anakin right before they unknowingly have their last goodbye. She knows more now than she did before and struggles not to say it all. But the theme of learning from loss is really special and powerful and I feel this sad sort of closure when I finish (I say that actively because I have...read this fic several several times). Painful, poignant–all the best things.

A moment I loved:

One last thing she learned from Anakin- teaching a lesson often requires holding your student to higher standards than you hold yourself.

With the knowledge that she’s holding him to a standard she herself might never reach, Ahsoka tells Ezra, “I’m asking you to let go.”

good morning, sun by @katierosefun

Summary: “You look miserable.” Ahsoka dropped her hand, spun around. Obi-Wan stood behind her, one arm carrying a cloak and the other half-extended to Ahsoka. [or: After she leaves the Order, Ahsoka has one last encounter with Obi-Wan.]

Let’s see how many of Caroline’s fics I can get away with posting before someone reports me. This one-shot is full of all the good post-wrong jedi stuff. Soka and Obi have a conversation at Dex’s that hurts a lot but also feels real and I will never not respect Caroline for understanding the nuances of the disaster trios intricate and intimate relationships with each other and how they shift and mold around different circumstances. This feels so authentically them that it hurts.

A moment I loved:

What came out instead was a small, half-choked sound.

When Obi-Wan opened his arms, Ahsoka fell right into them. “It hurts,” Ahsoka said, her voice cracking. “A lot.”

“I know,” Obi-Wan replied thickly. “We’ll take care of it.”

You Haunt All My What-Ifs by @kckenobi

Summary: But then she saw the way Obi-Wan’s lip was quivering, and his eyes were shining, and she realized— He hadn’t called because he needed to tell her. He’d called because he needed her. “Obi-Wan,” she breathed. “Oh, Obi-Wan…” And she wanted to reach out, to hold him. To be his refuge, his shelter, his home. Instead she just watched as he shook his head, palmed at his eyes, apologized. She reached out. Touched the hologram. It flickered. — [Satine and Obi-Wan—then, now, and every echo of what if between them.]

One of the first fics that got me on my Obitine grind!! Just the right mix of angst and angst to create the perfect recipe of absolute sorrow. These characters feel so real I could reach out and hug them–and oh, how I want to after this incredible little fic.

A moment I loved:

And then suddenly she was thinking of every little what if—the other paths they could’ve taken, the millions of ways they could’ve ended up here. She imagined a future where he’d stayed. She saw white weddings, crying infants, painting nursery rhymes on a pale bedroom wall. She saw herself rolling over in the middle of the night, bumping shoulders, feeling his warm breath on her face. She saw family dinners, rushed breakfasts as they hurried the kids off to school. She saw laughter. She saw a lifetime. And at the end, she saw herself old and gray, holding his hand, his eyes the last thing she’d ever see.They had arrived at the end now. But she was not old and gray.

Dying Words by @cloudyskywars

Summary: Anakin is trapped beneath a collapsed building, and has one final conversation with Obi-Wan.

One of my favourite febuwhump contributions from within the mountain of wonderful fics that the second month of the year created!! Some good ol classic Obi & Ani pain. Hint of a deathfic...but mostly just the moments leading up to it. And they...hurt. Also!!! Melanie took the care to make Anakin’s final words be about Obi-Wan, which is very special to me for the reason she includes in her author’s note.

A moment I loved:

“And,” he said, “if you ever see Ahsoka again, tell her she was the best padawan I could have asked for.” His breaths were coming in rapid pants, now, and the room was spinning out of focus. “Obi-Wan?” he asked, voice barely audible. “Yes, Padawan mine?” he responded, his own voice shaky as well. “Thank you for being my Master,” Anakin said.

i’m only me when i’m with you idiots by @renegadeontherunn

Summary: who let Obi-Wan pick the holo? and where's the remote? they might need a bigger blanket.

[or, Anakin, Ahsoka, and Obi-Wan have leave on Coruscant and holo night is the perfect excuse to all squeeze onto a couch together, bicker, and be, well, a family]

Fluff, fluff, fluff! Yes, please! My dear Fiona does a wonderful job wrapping these three up in a blanket and plopping them in front of a holo for a night of witty banter and so-cute-I-could-melt platonic cuddles. I love these three, I love this fic!

A moment I loved:

“You met a civilized Padawan? Couldn’t have been ours.”

get home by @curse-of-men

Summary: After a mission goes wrong and Jedi Knight Anakin Skywalker goes missing, it is up to Obi-Wan Kenobi and Ahsoka Tano to bring him home.

[or: a Grandmaster and a Grandpadawan go on a road trip to rescue chaos personified]

What? Me? Rec’ing another Obi-Wan and Ahsoka centric fic? HUH? Hehe, I love that Lou says this is the missing Obi & Soka arc in their author’s note because um, did they look into my heart and know that’s what I most desire? Anyway, this three-parter is incredible from start to finish and I demand you all go read it immediately. :-)

A moment I loved:

Making their way to the cockpit, Ahsoka tilts her head into Obi-Wan’s general direction and says: “You know, Master, Anakin would probably think things so far have gone excellently.” Obi-Wan returns her look and sighs.

“Now you surely must get why I am so worried about this.” Ahsoka grins and gestures back and forth in the empty space between them with one hand.

“For what it’s worth, I think we make a good enough team.”

we stand here, together by @nightdotlight

Summary: Master Depa Billaba and Padawan Caleb Dume.

Windu worries for them, out in the wider galaxy. Waging war, while he and Anakin sit here, waiting.

But he trained Billaba, and Billaba is training Dume. Anakin once took lessons from her, when he himself was a Padawan, and he knows she is skilled enough by far, to ensure that both she and her student make it back to Coruscant safely.

It’s ironic, that when cut off from the Force he can understand other people better than he has in years.

ZOWEE!!!! This fic made me ugly cry on my conference period at school!! Ha! Another fic that culminates in, er...death. But!!!! The lead-up! Ooh, baby! The writing style of this one is also very fresh and unique which I appreciate as someone who essentially reads the same thing eight million ways (by choice, mind you!!!! and loves it every time!!!!). This is just an absolute gem of a fic. Queue: your best crying playlist.

A moment I loved:

Depa, her Padawan braid hanging from her shoulder, hugs him around his middle and drags him to the training salles. The whole way, her laughter follows them– warm, like summer rain. Like the smallest, most ephemeral moments of happiness.

Her smile feels like a sunset on his back, and Mace smiles back even as they spar, as green and purple clash over and over again in a dance unique to teacher and student.

He does not need to reach out to know the galaxy is at peace. When they take a break from their own spar, Mace feels a light tap on his presence in the Force; when he turns, Ahsoka Tano stands there in training robes, her own Master a few paces behind– and beside him, Obi-Wan Kenobi, face lighter than it has been in years.

Her Padawan beads hang from her headdress; when she smiles at the banter behind her, turning to retort, they catch the light, and the half-formed impression of those beads torn asunder and held in gloved hand is dissipated by the glare.

Only Hope by @tessiete

Summary: The infamous "Year on the Run".In the wake of her father's death, Satine is assigned two Jedi to escort her safely back to Mandalore, but in the chaotic aftermath of a civil war, there is more at stake than one person's survival. Together, they work to unite Mandalore, overcome ancient grudges, and bring peace to a world ravaged by bloodshed.

Man, oh man, do I love a good year on the run fic! And man oh man am I loving the heck out of this one. It’s in progress so go ahead give it a bookmark and a subscription while you’re at it!!!! But the banter! The sass! The (I assume soon to come) pining! The Qui-Gon third wheeling! READ IT! Cannot recommend highly enough.

A moment I loved:

“...and you’re bound to be hungry.”

“I assure you, I’m not.”

“Well, Obi-Wan is,” Jinn asserts. His back is to his apprentice and so he cannot see the mutinous glance which darts his way. “And as you’ve seen, he’s trouble when he isn’t fed. You have five minutes.”

Goes to Ground by jerseydevious

Summary: Obi-Wan has a question for Anakin following his experiences on Zygerria.

Silly Jedi boys trying and failing to communicate, gosh dang it!!! They get there, eventually, though. :’) Some post Zygerria angst and some tough discussions. HERE. FOR. IT.

A moment I loved:

“You are a bad influence, padawan mine,” Obi-Wan said. He gave Anakin that smile, the one that made Anakin feel like he shared a secret with his Master, something only for them.

In Sacrifice, Peace by @ilonga

Summary: “Shh. . .” Anakin says, gathering the younglings around him, reminding Obi-wan of all those whispered arguments where he had insisted to Anakin that yes, he was good with children, he’d be just fine teaching Ahsoka. He can almost feel the terror rising off Anakin from the hologram; Anakin doesn’t know what’s happening either. But he isn’t letting the younglings feel it. “You need to listen to me very carefully, okay? This--” his voice breaks, “--this is going to be scary. But you have to be calm, and strong. Just like Master Yoda taught you.” [Or, the ROTS au where Obi-wan finds a very different type of pain while looking through the Temple's recordings of Order 66.]

PAIN AWAITS YOU HERE! But that is exactly why you should click, kudos, comment, bookmark, and let this fic live in your head rent free like it’s living in mine. Truly couldn’t get it out of there if I wanted to! AND I DO NOT! Yet another deathfic and angst with The Team (TM). Read it, peeps.

A moment I loved:

“And then?”Obi-wan closes his eyes, pretends he can’t feel the weight of the body in his arms, pretends it’s really Anakin he’s talking to and not some worrying coping mechanism. “And then we fight.” he says.

to hold by @katierosefun

Summary: “What—” Ahsoka looked up and, where she had expected to find a mumbling drunk, she found instead—

“Master Kenobi?” Ahsoka asked, stunned. She straightened, already swinging her backpack around herself again.

“Ahsoka,” Obi-Wan managed. He was breathing hard, just barely bent over because he was supporting, Ahsoka realized dumbly, Anakin.

Anakin, whose head was lolling against Obi-Wan’s shoulder. Whose face was two shades too pale and eyes fluttering and lips parted in a soundless groan that brought Ahsoka right back to battlefields and med bays and other places that she hadn’t been in a long, long while. [or: after leaving the Order, Ahsoka runs into some familiar faces.]

Caroline at it again with the post-wrong-jedi disaster trio angst comin’ in hot! Some platonic bed-sharing, some confused Anakin, some conflicted Ahsoka, some pained Obi-Wan. Well–strike that. They’re all in pain. But what do we expect, honestly? What do we want, honestly? Pain. We want pain.

A moment I loved:

“Only another dream,” Obi-Wan said. He looked at Ahsoka, his face just barely shadowed. “Seems that it’s passed.”

Another.

Ahsoka’s stomach twisted. She looked at the hand she was holding. It was strange—she couldn’t remember if she had ever actually held onto Anakin’s hand this tightly before, but now she could feel the familiar callouses, make out just the faintest of old scars. Ahsoka squeezed it once.

Not near as many as I planned to do or have saved and ready to rec, but...this already got, er...quite lengthy. So! Same time, next week! I’ll have some more! (Well, probably not same time and maybe not even next week...but soon.)

#fic rec #how is this only thirteen fics hahahahahaha #I literally just cannot shut up #go kudos and comment and reblog their stuff PLS I beg you!

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lassostark · 4 years

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Summary:

Jaskier has a secret. Well, he has two.

The first is that he's in love with Geralt Rivia, captain of the rugby team and his childhood best friend. Only, they're no longer best friends. His second secret is that he writes Geralt poetry and anonymously posts it at the school's Freedom Wall under the pseudonym of Dandelion. And the thing is, Dandelion has become so popular - more popular than Jaskier - that it's getting more difficult to keep his silence when it's clear that Geralt is starting to develop feelings for the mysterious lovesick poet.

How naïve was Jaskier to think that it would be so easy.

Excerpt:

Dear Heart,

You’re the moon And the world is a lonely wolf; It cries at the sight of you For you are glorious And so out of reach.

Yours, Dandelion

“Ooh, another one from Dandelion!”

“Wha— really?”

“Where?”

“Move over, let me read!”

“That’s the second time this week! They’re being productive, eh?”

“Has anybody told Rivia yet? Oh, wait there’s— Triss! Hey! Have you seen Geralt?”

“I just got in, Duny. What is it?”

“Dandelion posted another poem at the wall.”

“Bloody hell, they’re on a roll.”

“That’s what I said!”

“Piss off, Chireadan. Nobody asked you.”

“Okay, Geralt just replied ‘on my way’. Where’s the poem?”

“It’s up there, the blue circle post-it.”

“… Oh. That’s quite painful.”

“I know.”

“They’re pining so hard they could build a forest.”

There’s a collective sigh of exasperation.

“Again, Chireadan: piss off.”

Jaskier slings his bag over his shoulder and closes his locker with a soft thud before going the opposite direction where the small crowd is forming in front of The Freedom Wall.

When he was in freshman year, the bulletin first gained popularity after the student council during that year proposed it to the school as a way to encourage freedom of expression amongst its students in Morhen Academy. Since then, the school never took the bulletin off, and it gradually became a safe space for students to express their thoughts, opinions, as well as anonymously divulge their secrets and desires. For Jaskier, who’s now in his last year of high school, utilising The Freedom Wall for the past year and a half as a means to share his poetry without compromising his identity has become both a blessing and a curse.

It’s a blessing because he can write and post his poetry while his identity remains safe, having come up with the moniker of Dandelion after his favourite flower. Not that anyone would think to guess it’s him. Nobody knows that Jaskier is a lovesick poet, that he has filled out dozens and dozens of pages of writing he hasn’t shared to anyone. Until that fateful day.

It’s a curse because while he pours his heart out into his notebook with prose and verses, some carrying a tune more than others — it’s not like it’ll make the object of his (albeit secret) affections notice Jaskier. Even if he puts up a large neon sign over his head, there’s just no way Geralt Rivia, resident captain of the Morhen Wolves rugby team, would look twice at him and think that those pretty words written for him could ever come from someone like Jaskier.

There’s just no way.

He’s been setting himself up for disappointment and heartbreak from the start, he knows that. He’s more than aware of that fact. But let it not be said that Jaskier Pankratz has always had a dreadful habit of hurting himself further.

Jaskier grows up with two parents and two older siblings. One of his early memories about his parents is that they always fought, and his siblings always bullied him just because he was the youngest.

Jaskier is six when he made his first friend.

He and one Geralt Rivia became inseparable after Geralt pushed their classmate Valdo Marx on the playground after he shoved Jaskier to get to the swing first.

They played together, had recess together. Some weekends, they would sleepover at each other’s place, though Jaskier preferred staying over at Geralt’s because he was scared that if his best friend heard his parents fight, then Geralt wouldn’t want to be his friend anymore.

Jaskier is nine when his parents separated.

He and Geralt still have sleepovers, but it’s Jaskier who often stays at his best friend’s place. He also adores Geralt’s mum. Visenna Rivia being an excellent baker and never failing to indulge the young boys’ every whim.

It’s later in the week and Jaskier has sequestered himself in his usual corner at the cafeteria. His packed lunch has always been the same since freshman year. The sandwich of the week (it’s tuna this time), a pear (it varies, sometimes it’s an apple, sometimes it’s grapes), and a juice box and bottled water.

He likes the quiet. Prefers it, really. But sometimes he’ll be joined by a couple of his friends. Chireadan, Renfri, Shani, and Priscilla are the ones who frequent his table at the corner. Triss, who’s Jaskier’s lab partner this year, as well as Duny and Pavetta, join him on occasion. But most of the time, Jaskier has the table to himself. And he’s perfectly fine with it, too.

With his creative mind, all he needs is his brown leather-bound notebook and favourite pen, and it’s more than enough. It should be.

Jaskier is munching on his pear while fiddling with a torn bracelet he’s decided to use as a bookmark for his notebook when he hears boisterous laughter across the cafeteria. He looks up, only to see the rugby team on the long table they pushed together in the middle of the area to accommodate the dozen players that make up the Morhen Wolves. They’re talking animatedly, voices loud and piercing, while others throw food at each other.

And right in the middle of it is Geralt Rivia. He’s one of the only people there who’s seated calmly, although Jaskier can see that small, upwards twitch on the corner of his mouth. The only indication that the silver-haired captain finds the whole thing amusing. Jaskier’s heart aches in that moment.

Then suddenly, Geralt looks up from his conversation with Eskel to meet Jaskier’s eyes.

Shit, Jaskier curses himself. He averts his eyes and ducks his head instead, cursing himself further when he feels his cheeks heat up with embarrassment at being caught.

He forces himself to focus on his leather-bound notebook, jotting down a few lines for a new song he has in mind. All the while, he continues to fiddle with the bracelet.

On Geralt’s tenth birthday, Jaskier gifted his best friend a drawing of the two of them. Before discovering his love for writing, Jaskier was a pretty decent artist, so he carefully drew a mountain with the sun rising behind it, two figures — one with chestnut hair and one with dark grey — standing beside each other on a forked road before them.

“Why is it forked?” Geralt asks Jaskier with a curious tilt of his head.

Jaskier shrugs. “I thought it looked nice. Why draw one road when you can draw two, right? And besides, that way you can choose which path to take!”

Geralt frowns. “But what if you don’t want to go in the same direction as me?”

“Don’t be silly, I’d follow you anywhere! You’re my best friend!”

“Well, I’d follow you, too.”

The two young boys share grins, and they only get up when Geralt’s mum calls them for dinner.

It’s the middle of November now, and since Jaskier started posting his poetry on The Freedom Wall near the end of second year, he always arrives at the school earlier than usual to put up the post-it at the bulletin.

There’s nobody in sight, the hallways void of students and teachers alike. Luckily, the bulletin is only a few feet away from his locker, which is also near the boy’s toilet. So in case he hears anyone approaching, Jaskier can make a quick escape.

Checking that the coast is clear and he can’t hear any footsteps approaching, Jaskier swiftly takes out the yellow rectangle post-it from between the pages of his notebook. Using one of the coloured thumb tacks pinned to the bulletin, Jaskier goes on his tip toes to pin the note to the upper right corner. Satisfied, he straightens with a huff of breath and takes a moment to scan the other messages posted, eyes landing on other anonymous writings pinned in the bulletin.

“My parents are getting a divorce. I might move schools next term. I don’t want to go.”

“I came out to my family last night over dinner, and for the first time I saw my dad cry. He’s a lawyer, and I can’t even remember the last time we had a heart-to-heart. But he hugged me and told me he loved me.”

“Sure, this school has a zero tolerance for bullying. But what if it’s ourselves we’re bullying? Sometimes, I’m scared of my own thoughts.”

“FUCK HOMOPHOBIA. FUCK RACISM. FUCK ISLAMOPHOBIA. FREEDOM FOR ALL!!!”

“What if one day you wake up and you find that you’re the person you’ve always wanted to be? What would you do?”

“The cafeteria needs to revamp their menu. There’s only so much baked fucking potato I can consume in a goddamn week.”

“This country isn’t for me. As an immigrant, I don’t feel like I belong. But then I remember where I came from, where my family suffered for years of poverty and oppression. And that’s when the gratitude comes. How can I be so selfish when my parents sacrificed so much for my sisters, just so we can be safe and have a bright future?”

“Anyone got any guesses who Dandelion is?”

A bubble of surprised laughter erupts from Jaskier upon reading the last one. He purses his lips and reads it a second time, eyes attentively going over the spidery scrawl of the letters. He’s half tempted to take it down, but Jaskier knows he can’t. No student is allowed to remove or discard anything that’s posted at The Freedom Wall. Nobody except the teachers and caretakers, who clear out the massive bulletin drilled into the wall every week.

Some part of Jaskier twinges in sorrow every time he sees his writing, though anonymous, be discarded so carelessly like yesterday’s leftovers. Once it’s out there, it’s never really gone, though. His words are immortalised elsewhere. What he chooses to share is only a fragment, a sliver, of the deeper parts of Jaskier’s heart.

He only ever posts at the bulletin for one person, anyway.

Dear Heart,

The universe is a brilliant writer; It wrote your name in my stars Before any of us existed So when the time comes They’ll light up your path — And lead you straight to me.

Yours, Dandelion

Like everyone, Jaskier is walking briskly to his next class, which happens to be AP English Literature. He’s adjusting the strap of his bag over his shoulder, mumbling to himself about purchasing a new one that weekend. He’s fixing the zipper of his bag when he rounds the next corner, only to collide hard with a solid body.

“Oomf!”

Jaskier hits the ground on his arse. His bag, halfway open, spills the contents between him and the person he bumped into.

“Fuck, I’m so sorry,” a gruff voice says above him, sounding just as shocked.

Jaskier stiffens, belated realising that the figure he collided with didn’t even move from the spot. Slowly, he raises his head to meet Geralt’s golden eyes.

Swallowing past the dryness he suddenly finds lodged in his throat, Jaskier quickly stammers, “I-it’s fine!” He clears his throat. “Sorry. Sorry, I didn’t see you. Was a bit occupied wrestling with my stupid bag.”

“It’s fine,” Geralt replies in that same gruff voice, although his tone is soft.

He looks away from Geralt’s eyes, unable to hold his piercing gaze for more than a few seconds at a time. It’s akin to looking directly at the sun, and Jaskier, who’s always worn his heart on his sleeve, fears that if he stares too long that Geralt will see something he doesn’t want to see. So instead, Jaskier focuses on gathering his books, notebooks, and pens scattered on the deserted hallway.

Wait. Deserted? Since when?

Ah, fuck. It doesn’t matter.

Jaskier is shoving his History book into his bag when he feels more than sees Geralt crouch in front of him. He wordlessly passes Jaskier some of his pens, which he accepts with a mumbled “thank you”. When he catches sight of Geralt clutching a brown, leather-bound notebook in his large hands, Jaskier feels his heart stop.

His eyes drift from the notebook to the rough-looking hands, and up to the chiseled features of Geralt’s handsome face. And he is. Handsome. Breathtakingly beautiful, with his sharp jawline and the high cheekbones. Full lips that are dry but look soft at the same time, an odd juxtaposition in Jaskier’s humble opinion.

Geralt is still looking at the notebook, Jaskier notes, thick fingers slowly stroking the spine as golden eyes study the initials embossed on the front cover.

“You’re finally using it,” Geralt comments, thumb lightly stroking the thin leather cord that keeps the notebook closed.

Jaskier gulps inaudibly. Give it back, give it back. Please.

“I’ve been using it for years,” he reveals quietly. Jaskier shrugs when Geralt looks up to meet his eyes. “Took you long enough to notice.”

Geralt raises an eyebrow at him before he snorts softly and — thank god — finally hands it back to Jaskier. He more or less snatches it from the other man, careful not to let their fingers graze.

“It’s not like I always have my eyes on you,” Geralt eventually says.

Jaskier finally zips his bag closed, and they rise up from their crouched positions. Jaskier opens his mouth to make a sarcastic retort, but stops himself when the words register to him.

He tilts his head at Geralt. “Does this mean you sometimes have your eyes on me?”

Geralt blinks, and he looks startled for a moment that Jaskier can’t help but chuckle. It’s so easy to push his buttons, Jaskier has almost forgotten how much fun he used to have getting a rise out of Geralt.

“That’s not— I don’t—”

“Relax, Geralt. I was only teasing.”

Geralt shuts his mouth, looking nonplussed.

“Hmm.”

Oh, he’s definitely missed that, Jaskier thinks with a pang. His earlier mirth recedes, amused smile fading from his face.

They stand in front of each other in awkward silence. Jaskier fixes the strap of his bag over his shoulder as he fixes his eyes on his black Converse shoes.

Geralt clears his throat.

“Thanks, er, for the help,” Jaskier states. He chances a glance up and fights down a flinch when he sees Geralt already looking at him.

“Sure,” Geralt acknowledges with a nod, his expression pinched.

Jaskier thinks he looks a cross between constipated and freaked out. Could be a bit of both, who knows?

“So. I’m gonna go. I have AP English.”

Geralt nods again.

“AP Biology for me.”

“Okay. Er. Bye.”

“… Bye.”

It’s with an awkward wave, and a more awkward smile, that Jaskier walks past Geralt to turn the corner and get to class. Which he’s already a minute late for, fuck.

If his heart is hammering against his ribcage, and his palms happen to be sweaty and his cheeks flushed pink, Jaskier convinces himself it’s because he hightailed it across the hallway in record time to avoid getting detention from Ms. Tissaia.

Yeah. That’s why. It’s because he ran.

(Read the rest on AO3)

#geraskier #geralt x jaskier #geraskier fic #the witcher fic #jaskier #geralt of rivia #modern au #high school au #jock!geralt #nerd!jaskier #my writing

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de-profundis-ad-astra · 4 years

Text

Fury, Oh Fury - Part One

Triple Frontier | Hunger Games AU

Me: Hey what if I started working on Fury again? Y’all: Me: Hey if I started working on Fury again would you read it? Y’all: Me: Okay okay you’ve forced my hand I guess I gotta start working on Fury again

Rating || Mature (for graphic descriptions of violence/gore and strong language) Characters || Ben Miller. William Miller. A good chunk of this fic will be heavily focused on the Miller brothers, because I’m most comfortable writing them and I feel like I know them the best. Rest assured, Pope and Catfish will be making appearances ~eventually~ Word Count || 4.2k Taglist || (Starting out tagging some mutuals and people I remember from the previous taglist) @firefeatherx @mylifeliterally @mandoplease @phoenixhalliwell @skylyknightly @havenforafrazzledmind @beatriz-silva-00 @veuliee @veuliee2 @oldstuffnewstuff @dindisneydjarin @lilacyennefer @dignityneeded @agirllovespancakes @xjustmenobodyelse @oscarflysaac @jaime1110 @goldenhour-goldenboy @pascalz @briskywalker @herestherealproblem @givemethatgold

Author’s Note || For anyone who might be new here, @veuliee sent me a concept that I kinda uh, tripped over my own feet and plunged face first into and that’s the story of how I started writing a Hunger Games AU for Triple Frontier. Things got unbelievably crazy once I started work, and I’ve had some pretty unhealthy work/home boundaries with being virtual. I’m trying to establish some healthier limits and make more time for my writing, and this seemed like a good enough starting point. That and the outlines for the rest of this fic are still staring at me and demanding to be written.

So, here goes.

Home hasn’t felt like home since Will left.

It’s been nothing more than a house since the day of the reaping, almost a month ago. A collection of walls with a roof—the same as any other building. The place where he grew up. A place to rest his head and feed himself between training sessions. It won’t be home until Will comes back.

If he comes back.

Will has trained for this, Ben tells himself when doubt creeps in, wraps its icy fingers around his lungs and clenches tight, pushes down on his chest in the dead of the night and it feels like Ben is drowning. Will practiced and fought and earned the chance to volunteer for District Two. He wouldn’t have been selected as the male tribute for this year if his teachers hadn’t felt he had a strong chance of returning victorious.

But there had been Two’s female tribute also. And the tributes from One and Four. All were formidable in a fight, and knew the tips and tricks to survival that would be essential in the arena. Not to mention the Games themselves were an absolute wild card. For all Will’s training, he still could be killed by a natural disaster of the gamemakers design, stabbed in the back by his allies, a tribute from an outlying district could catch him off guard.

There’s far too much that can go wrong; Ben drowns each and every thought behind his own training at the academy.

He can’t let that kind of vulnerability shine through. Not to his father. Not to his peers. Especially not when he’s being followed as much as his brother in the arena. Since the field of tributes narrowed down to eight five days ago, when Capitol cameras and personnel arrived to interview him and his father, there’s been hardly a moment of privacy. So Ben covers his fear with a smile, says he has full confidence that his brother will be home as soon as he can. He laughs when they ask him if he’ll volunteer one day, just like his brother did.

Ben answers with a grin, says he has no place to make that determination—but who knows?

Deep down… he knows. He’s known for a while now. He’s young, but he’s already tall, strong, quick. A prodigy, they’d said of his skills. A promised child, just like his brother was.

In spite of his age, Ben is favored to volunteer and represent District Two in the coming years. For now, though, the focus is on honing those skills, shaping him into the best warrior they can to bring pride to District Two.

The Capitol, they say, are charmed by him already. The idea of two brothers bearing the title of Victor is the kind of narrative they’re keen to fall for. So Ben plasters that smile on and lets himself become a part of the show.

Because if he lost Will…

If he lost Will—

Where would home be?

All of District Two seems to have hit pause, every pair of eyes glued to the nearest screen.

Peacekeepers-in-training pause their exercises. Future tributes stop their sparring matches. The lines at every shop in town are on hold. Even the children have stopped playing their games to witness this.

And in the city square, standing in front of the Justice Building in a roped off section reserved for family, the mayor, and a handful of District Two’s more recent victors, thirteen year old Benjamin Miller tries to keep his fidgeting down to an occasional scuff of his feet on the dusty ground or flex of his weary muscles.

“Ladies and gentlemen, it seems we are entering the final moments of the Fifty-fourth annual Hunger Games!”

The massive screens mounted in the square broadcast live footage from the arena. Presently, two feeds are placed side by side, dedicated to the two remaining tributes of this year’s Hunger Games. One tracks Will’s every move, the other follows his opponent: the boy from District Four.

Will abandoned the Career pack when there were still fourteen tributes left. One night, during his watch shift, he left them behind, taking with him a pack with enough food to last him four days, a bottle of water, a sleeping bag, a hunting knife, and his preferred sword. A long, wicked thing most people might have struggled to wield two-handed. Will handled it with ease. One-handed.

Speculation rippled through the district at that. The decision to leave so early in the Games was shocking enough. Why not kill the rest while they slept and increase his odds of victory by an exponential margin? It was known that the pack would disband eventually, but why so soon?

At the academy, Will was both praised and berated for his choice. It was understandable to leave before bonds formed and killing another tribute turned into killing an ally. But so early? When so much could go wrong? It was a risk not many were brave enough to take.

In the arena, navigating the terrain proved to be its own exercise of survival. This year’s terrain consisted of three mountains of varying height, surrounded by dense forest. It became apparent early on that the woods were not safe, as they were crawling with all manner of predators, both organic and manufactured by the Capitol. Two weeks into the Games, the gamemakers destroyed the entire forest with a raging wildfire, killing an additional two tributes.

The forest now uninhabitable, Will had taken to carving out several hiding places among the mountainsides. Once he’d burned through his rations, he relied on hunting small creatures still inhabiting the cliffs and whatever his mentor was able to provide through sponsors. With the element of surprise working for him, Will had managed to ambush and eliminate four additional tributes, bringing his kill count to a whopping ten—high above the average for a typical career.

Almost half of the playing field, brought down by one seventeen-year old. Will must have struck a deal with his allies before the start of the Games, because during the bloodbath, he’d done most, if not all of the killing while the remainder of his team secured their supplies from the Cornucopia. If he walked away from this, he’d be the pride of District Two for a long time to come on that merit alone.

When the tribute pack thinned down to four, the gamemakers struck again. Devastating rockslides hammered each mountain, cutting off both Will’s access to his hiding spots, and any freshwater sources he’d relied on. The slides killed two tributes, the girl from One and the boy from Five.

Ben remembered watching in abject horror as his brother fled from the avalanche, finally managing to take cover underneath an outcropping of rock that shielded him from the worst of it. He’d escaped, though not without accruing a fair amount of scrapes and bruises along the way. The worst of it was a small, but deep cut slicing through his eyebrow. By a small miracle, it had stopped bleeding within an hour, but half of Will’s face was now crusted with streaks of dried blood, only adding to his already haggard state. He lost his knife in the chaos, but managed to hold onto his sword—his saving grace.

Not only that, but the only reason the boy from Four had survived was because he’d turned on his companion as they fled. When they were clear of the slides, while her guard was down, he’d shoved her back, right into the path of an oncoming boulder. She was crushed before she could even appear shocked by the betrayal. There weren’t even any remains left for the hovercraft to collect.

More whispers rippled through the district, then. Yes, it was sad. But it was what needed to be done.

No fresh water. Most of the wildlife either dead or scared off. Two tributes. It was evident the gamemakers wanted to end this fast. The Games had already lasted nearly three and a half weeks, far longer than average. This year had proven to be a particularly hardy bunch. Even getting a small water bottle into the arena at this rate would likely cost a large fortune.

Which meant they were on their own.

The moment the dust cleared, the cannons fired and faces projected in the sky, everyone knew what came next. Immediately, a space was cleared in the square for Ben and his father, victors called out to join and prepare to offer either congratulations or condolences depending on the outcome of the final encounter.

On the screen, Will inches his way along a narrow path on the face of the tallest mountain. All he has on his person is his sword and his clothes, veritably shredded after three weeks of fighting for his life in such an unforgiving environment. The landscape is similar enough that when Ben looks at the screen with the boy from Four, he can’t tell how near they are to each other. Will grew up in the mountains of Two. In theory, he should have an advantage over the boy from the coast. Nothing is ever set in stone, though—not in the Hunger Games. Four had proven himself to be quiet the adaptable tribute.

They have to be getting close, Ben thinks, there’s no way the gamemakers would push them away from each other at this point.

As if in answer to his thought, a low, feline snarl rumbles through the speakers. It’s faint, far away, but Will hears it. Everyone hears it. Pressing his back against the rock, he dares a swift look down towards the origin of the sound. As if oblivious to the cameras trained on him or simply not caring, Will’s shout cuts through the wind.

“Fuck!”

The camera angle switches, and Ben’s heart plummets.

Prowling about fifty feet beneath Will’s feet is a strange breed of feline, the likes of which Ben has never seen before. Three of them. Large, with a pale golden coat and small round ears. Long, curved, razor-sharp claws extending from all four oversized paws carve thin scratches into the rock as they pace back and forth beneath him.

Ben’s first thought is cougar, but then the cat looks up, and he beholds the elongated canines extending far past its lower jaw. He’s learned about it in school. A kind of cat that went extinct long before the continent was even known as the Americas. Despite his best efforts, Ben cannot recall its name.

It’s undoubtedly a muttation, designed and put out by the gamemakers to do one thing: kill.

The long-toothed cat bares its teeth, its companions following suit. From his perch on the mountainside, Will’s chest moves rapidly. He’s struggling to control his breath, Ben realizes. His throat tightens, his stomach tangling with itself.

Beside him, his father murmurs, “Move, William, move.”

“Look at that!” one of the commentators yells. “It seems the gamemakers have one last trick up their sleeves to push Will and Reed together!”

Ben grips the rope in front of him as if that is the only thing separating him from Will. The big cat crouches, leaps up to a rock jutting out from the mountainside, ten feet closer to him. Ben spares one glance towards Four’s feed. He doesn’t seem to be faring much better. Another trio of cats nip at his heels as he struggles to ascend the mountain.

Will’s breathing slows and deepens, and he masters himself enough to take several tiny steps closer to the end of the path. There, he will easily be able to summit the mountain, another twenty feet above his head.

The cats leap up another ten feet, and Will draws his sword with one hand. Bracing his free hand on the smooth, grey rock, he angles the blade towards the advancing cats and continues inching along. Only a few more feet separate him from the safety of the broad platform of stone. Beneath him, one of the cats leans back onto its haunches. Its entire body trembles before it goes preternaturally still, preparing to make one last leap towards its prey.

Reading the movements, Will does the same. For a moment, they lock eyes. Blue to gold, predator to predator. Silence grips the square. Ben’s lungs strain against his ribs, but he doesn’t let himself breathe. Not yet. Not when it feels as if a single puff of air could alter the course of history in this moment.

The cat leaps.

So does Will.

He goes nearly parallel to the ground, his free hand reaching out for something he can catch himself on and his sword hand sweeping downward the same moment the cat swipes a clawed paw towards him.

The honed edge of the sword slices deep into the neck of the feline. A trail of blood droplets follows the arc of the blade as Will twists in midair, angling his body so his back will take the brunt of the impact and tucking his chin down into his chest. The cat yowls as it tumbles back, the sound turning into an awful gurgle before cutting off. Its body falls down the steep mountain face. Ben only catches a short glimpse before it tumbles off the screen, but he can see that Will cut deep enough that its head is barely hanging on by a few tendons and muscle fibers. A thick streak of red smears the rock where it fell.

With a grunt, Will slams into the ground, sliding over the dirt and loose rocks for a moment before his body stills. He remains there for several seconds before ever so slowly, he turns onto his side. Pressing his left hand into the ground, Will pushes himself up, dragging his feet beneath his shoulders. As soon as he puts his weight onto his legs, he gives out and he topples back down.

Any relief Ben felt at his brother’s life-saving maneuver is swelled out by a pulse of fear when he sees why his brother can’t stand.

A duo of long cuts, so straight and deep it looks almost surgical, extends from the middle of Will’s thigh down to his ankle. Ben had been so busy watching his brother he’d been oblivious to the fact that the cat had gotten him.

Each breath Will takes has blood oozing from the laceration until the leg of his pants are soaked and glistening a deep, sullen red. He tries, and fails, again to rise to his feet. Even using the sword as a support, he loses his footing and crumbles, his weight kicking up a cloud of dust when he hits the rock.

“In a stunning turn of events, it seems that the outcome of these Games have already been determined…”

Get up, Ben thinks with every shred of desperation he has. Get up, Will.

Will sluggishly turns onto his back, and hoists himself upright with his legs stretched in front of him. It seems to take every bit of energy he has to shrug his jacket off, and slide it underneath his bleeding leg. He brazenly ties the sleeves around his thigh until his arms are straining and the blood flow slows. The makeshift tourniquet may save his life, but it’s only a matter of minutes before the damage is so permanent that he risks losing the limb altogether.

Again, using his sword for support, Will heaves himself to his feet. He wobbles again, and Ben feels his heart rise into his throat before he steadies himself. Will straightens, and takes a few limping steps towards the final ascent. He’d been so busy tending to his wound, worrying about the big cats, that he hadn’t heard the approaching footsteps. Ben, too wrapped up in concern for his brother, hadn’t checked the other video feed, hadn’t heard the commentators call out in shock—

When Four crashes into Will and sinks a knife into his shoulder.

Ben, his father, the city square, the entirety of District Two, cry out in collective shock as Will and Four go down, Four pinning him with a roar so inhuman it sends a chill skittering over Ben’s bones.

It’s worse, so much worse than he’d imagined.

Blood sprays, and Will’s fingers splay when he hits the rock. His sword clattering too far for him to reach. Ben barely processes what he sees as he fights to remain upright. He feels the cameras in the square narrow in on him. He can’t give out. Not now.

Will rolls, flipping Four off of him and onto the ground, wrenching the knife in his shoulder free in the process. His blood drips down the blade as Four angles it in front of himself, his own arm shredded, likely from his encounter with those big cats. Will slowly climbs to his knees, beaten and bloody and entirely at a disadvantage. The blood, the dirt—he looks more animal than human when he bares his teeth.

Ben’s never seen anything like it. Anything so unearthly, so primal and raging.

Four leaps again, and Will leans down. As Four descends on him, Will straightens, and there’s a clang of metal on metal.

It takes a moment for Ben to understand what he sees.

But there’s Will, knife in hand, his face red with the effort it takes to keep Four from landing another blow. He’d lost his knife in the avalanche. He’d seen it.

How long had Will kept a knife hidden in his boot, waiting for a moment such as this to use it?

Will manages to deflect what would have been a life-ending blow, but they topple again. Four bellows as Will’s blade plunges into his forearm and twists. The shrieking of Four, coupled with the spray of blood, sends a chill weaving down Ben’s spine.

Move, move, move!

Four’s free hand slams into Will’s face hard enough to crack bone, and Will stumbles back, blood gushing.

Will just grunts, his brow bunching in pain and concentration.

Every part of Ben shakes.

Four punches his face again and the sound fracks from Ben, “Will.”

Four yanks his arm free of Will’s knife, blood spraying like rain as he slashes at Will. He catches Four’s wrist in the follow-through with both hands, pinning his arm across his body. Four swings with his free hand, the punch easily dodged this time by Will.

They stare at each other for long, uncounted moments, nothing between them but howling wind and heavy, pained panting.

Then Will does the last thing Ben expects him to.

He headbutts Four.

Will releases Four’s arm as he staggers towards the edge of the peak, right towards where the long-toothed cats stalk in wait. The blow proves disorienting enough, and though Four swings his arms wildly to regain his balance, he takes one step back too far back and plummets.

He screams as he falls, but it goes hauntingly quiet when he hits.

The impact of Four’s body on the stone is heard across the nation. They wait for the cannon, but there’s nothing.

The mutts attack.

Will sinks to his knees.

Ben clutches the rope so tightly his knuckles whiten. It could be minutes, it could be hours, before the cannon booms at last.

Will looks to the side, his eyes finding the camera as if he’s known precisely where it was the entire time. Something like relief shines there, overpowered by pain and fury and something feral as the announcer declares, “Ladies and gentlemen, I am pleased to present the victor of the fifty-fourth Hunger Games, William Miller—the tribute of District Two!”

Two days later, Will’s final interview in the Capitol airs. Before now, he’s been kept keenly away from the cameras, and it becomes clear why the moment Ben sees him for the first time since his final glimpse in the arena. He wears a sharp grey suit, but any evidence of his injuries on his face have been wiped away. Whether by makeup or surgical alteration, Ben can’t tell. His skin is smooth and pristine, unmarred by bruises or cuts or even the faintest scar.

The crowd breaks into applause as Will is presented. He gives a winning smile, but the haunted glow is still there. He still looks a little too much like a cornered animal. His stylist is praised for his masterful capture of Will’s strength, physique, and iron-willed character.

Will sits in the victor’s chair like he was born for it. Maybe he was. He views the highlights with the rest of the nation, and answers his interviewer’s questions with grace.

“While you were there, in the arena,” says the host. “Was there any one thing that kept you going?”

Will seems to think on it for a moment, working his jaw over before he answers, “My brother. The whole time… I just wanted him to know that I love him.”

The audience croons about how strong and brave he is. Ben feels himself swell with pride.

He wants to be like Will one day, he thinks.

The wait for the train is its own agony.

District Two is nearest to the Capitol, but operations there don’t start until late in the morning on a good day. With the conclusion of the Games so fresh, it seems they need a few extra hours to get moving.

At last, the train rolls into the station late in the afternoon. No one comments on how Ben stood there, waiting for almost the whole day as more and more citizens of Two arrive to welcome their newest victor. They chatter amongst themselves, clearing space for Ben’s father as he arrives at last, fresh off his shift as the town’s head Peacekeeper.

As the train crawls to a halt, the voices around Ben die down, awaiting with bated breath for Will to show himself. Ben feels like he’s about to burst from his own skin with the anticipation—

The doors open, and there he is.

Will’s eyes snap to Ben’s almost instantly. The relief that cleaves through him almost knocks him to his knees.

Ben thinks it might have, had Will not leaped down and ran to him.

Will opens his arms, and Ben finds his way home.

Will remembers every face of every tribute in that godforsaken place.

The ones he killed directly haunt him the most.

He kept count of many things in the arena. The minutes that turned into hours that turned into days away from home… away from Ben. The number of breaths he still counted himself lucky to take. But most poignant of all was those faces. Each one, their faces as they died, had been etched into his memory. Every time he blinks, he sees them.

Ten. He killed ten of them.

The train barely makes a creak as it speeds over the railway. The ride from the Capitol to District Two isn’t long—barely an hour.

Though he grew up in one of the “wealthy” districts, there is a certain elegance to Capitol wares Will thinks he’s going to miss. He relishes in every moment he has left, wresting back thoughts of death and killing and betrayal.

He hadn’t been lying when he said it was Ben that got him through the worst of it in the arena. But that hadn’t been the whole truth, either. It was the thought of how he could redeem himself after so much tragedy, inflicting so much pain on others. He couldn’t do that if he let himself die in the arena.

How did Ben—little Benny, who perhaps wasn’t so little anymore but would always be to Will—see him now, at the end of it all? What could he say that would make all the violence, all the killing, right.

He didn’t know how, but he would do it. Will would make sure to see it done, no matter what it took.

Will is barely formulating what he can say to his brother when he feels the breaks engage on the train. All too soon, just like that, he’s back home… whatever home is, now. Sure, he’ll have the house in Victor’s Village and of course his family would be allowed to live with him, but the concept seems too foreign, now. He suspects it’ll take some time to adjust to that.

His mentor—a victor from about ten years ago, beckons him forward. Will’s legs are surprisingly shaky as he rises to his feet. Outside, he can hear the district already clapping, cheering for him. He tries to imagine Ben there, tries to pretend that his brother will be happy to see him, that he’ll be happy to see Ben.

The doors open.

Light floods the train car, and Will almost lifts a hand to block the sun. The initial surge of stimulus is overwhelming. The light, the sound, the unrelenting heat of the mountains. Will blinks hard to adjust his eyes.

As if by gravitational pull, he sees him.

His eyes find Ben’s, almost an exact mirror of his own. His brother’s eyes are wide, his face broken into a grin so wide it’s a wonder his skin hasn’t split.

That’s all it takes.

Will leaps down from the train car and runs. Every thought, every doubt, every word flees his mind as he takes in the sight of his brother. Healthy and whole and alive.

Ben’s there to meet him. They collide, and Will finds his way home.

#triple frontier #triple frontier fanfiction #william miller #william ironhead miller #ben miller #benny miller #pls god let this post to the tag on the first try #i don't want to redo all the formatting #triple frontier fic

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sxveme-2 · 3 years

Text

strawberry pancakes // bucky barnes

MASTERLIST

SEQUEL TO BLUEBERRY PANCAKES

DESCRIPTION: Lily Osborne and Bucky Barnes were never blessed with an easy relationship. Whether it be emotional trauma, or Lily's parents trying to be evil scientists. But they somehow made it work, after coming together once again after the birth of Lily's nephew. They were smooth sailing for a while. He proposed, they got engaged, but have yet to marry. While also juggling raising a teenager together as Hunter reaches the age of 16 now. All the while struggling with adjusting to their new lives in Long Island, balancing careers. Meanwhile, Lily struggles with the new found fame of being the fiancé of The White Wolf; and handling the tabloids critiques on her life and gossip columns digging up any information they can on her. While trying to maintain a low profile; and handle her life as it is. And becoming parents. Lily for the second time, while Bucky, well, this is his first attempt at a biological child. All the while a new threat from their past rises up once again, blind siding the family. Bringing forward old hatchets that had been buried, and putting their relationship at risk once more.

DISCLAIMER: I do not own any original Marvel characters! All canon plots and canon characters belong to Marvel Comics and Marvel Studios. This is an original work. You may not publish it anywhere else

STATUS: Unedited

NOTES: Takes place after endgame. I have elected to ignore Tony's death and Steve's leaving. Did not happen. Quick Reminder! My works are only published here, AO3 and on Wattpad, thank you.

Chapter One: The One With His Outburst

Warnings: N/A

Word Count: 2241

The mix of barking and meowing stirred Lily Osborne from the depths of her sleep. The feeling of a warm body pressed close to her back earned a content sigh from her, his warmth beckoning her to pull back into her sleep. But the melodic noise of animals fighting kept her wide-eyed. A groan vibrated in her throat as she slid from her fiance's grip, stepping into her slippers. The blonde glanced behind her and chuckled lowly at the peaceful face of her hopefully, soon-to-be husband.

The howling continued and Lily stood to her feet, sneaking from her bedroom and down the stairs of their home. She began shushing the noisy animals when her feet hit the bottom, rounding the corner and separating the three animals.

"Why must you three do this every morning," Lily whispered, picking up the bright white cat the two dogs had been harassing, "I know they're so mean to you, Alpine." She cooed, scratching the cat's head, "Poor boy."

The cat cooed before hopping out of Lily's arms, racing down towards the small cat door that led into the expansive backyard. Lily followed close behind, watching the white fur dance along the boards of the dock, before perching on one of the posts near their boat.

Turning on her heels, Lily glanced down at the two dogs that stared up at her, wide-eyed and ready for their breakfast, "Well aren't you two just a sight to see." She grinned, bending down and scratching the Bernese's ear.

Along with the ever-loving cat that they had adopted, the small family rescued a Bernese mountain dog that was being used for dog fights in an underground ring in New York. They named him Chandler, coinciding with the german shepherd they had, Joey. Lily had made sure that the names matched, for only having Joey just didn't make any sense. She tried to name the cat Ross, but her lover was not having it.

After Lily made her coffee and fed the dogs, she found herself stepping out onto the back porch, finding a seat on the swinging bench. She curled into the light blue and navy pillows, allowing the warm sun to seep into her skin as it rose higher above the lake. Glancing at her phone, she saw a few texts from her best friend and chuckled at what was contained.

"Did you know Leo spits bananas at people? Rose forgot to tell me that while I was babysitting."

Typing back her response, notifying Gen that she did indeed know that, Lily chuckled. It was moments like these that reminded her just how lucky she was for the life she led. A loving fiance, great pets, a beautiful home, a perfect job, a son that she wouldn't trade for the world, and-

"Mama!" the young girl's voice rang as she pushed open the back door, walking over towards the blonde with a bright smile on her face.

"Well good morning Stella," Lily chuckled, placing her mug down and lifting the four-year-old to the swing with her, "What are you doing up so early hm? It's only 7." The blonde asked, kissing the dark brown curls on her daughter's head.

"Loud noises." Stella shrugged, looking over at the two dogs playing on the grass.

"And daddy was snoring."

Lily lifted her head and smiled at the man that had emerged from the house. He had a cup of coffee in his hand as well, and walked over towards his two girls and took a seat next to them. The blonde smiled up and pressed a quick kiss on the blue-eyed man's lips. Bucky Barnes. War hero. Ex-assassin. Avenger. Fiance. Father. Love of her life. Despite the obstacles that were continuously thrown in their path, the two found each other each time. And hadn't parted since.

"How do you think mama feels, having to sleep with him every night," Lily teased, tucking a strand of her daughter's dishevelled hair behind her ear, "Might just have to join you in bed tonight."

"Haha very funny," Bucky chuckled, plucking the four-year-old from Lily's arms, "you wouldn't dare steal mom from me would you?" he teased, kissing the brunette girl's cheek, "C'mon, let's get you fed and then get you off to school hm?"

"I wanna stay hooome," Stella whined, leaning her head on Bucky's shoulder, looking up at him with wide eyes.

Lily scoffed as she watched Bucky's face fall and grow softer as his daughter stared up at him with those bright blue eyes she inherited from him. The three fell silent for a moment as Bucky tried to keep his will intact long enough to tell Stella she had to go to school. But it was when he looked up at Lily with puppy dog eyes, she realized she was gonna have to play bad cop with the young girl this morning.

"Sneaky girl," Lily chuckled, standing from her seat and scooping the four-year-old into her arms, "Giving daddy those eyes. Y'know, I invented those eyes. You're welcome." She teased, turning and walking back into the home.

Lily sat Stella down in her chair at the table, before wandering into the kitchen and pouring her daughter a bowl of Cheerios with strawberries on top. Stella had an allergy to blueberries, meaning that Lily and Bucky had to work around the attachment they all had to them to accommodate the newest addition to the family. Hunter just about threw a fit when he realized that they wouldn't be able to have blueberry pancakes as often anymore.

"Morning grumpy," Bucky grinned as Hunter walked into the kitchen when he came back in from the porch, "Looking as excited to be up as ever." The supersoldier teased, ruffling the 16-year-old's blonde hair.

Hunter gave a disheartening grunt in response before popping two pieces of toast into the toaster, staring at it dead-eyed as he attempted to wake himself up. Lily chuckled and poured the boy a cup of coffee, sending it his way before placing the cereal down in front of Stella for her.

"Hey can you promise me not to be late for class this morning," Lily sighed, bumping her elbow on Hunter's arm, "I don't need another call from Ms. Humphrey in the middle of an examination again."

"I make no promises." Hunter quipped, giving his mom a tight smile before sliding into the seat adjacent to his younger sister.

Lily sighed and sent a quick glance towards Bucky. Hunter had been acting up at a continuous pace, furthering his attitude towards Lily specifically. The room fell silent as everyone resumed eating or drinking their coffee. Bucky sent Lily an apologetic smile when he caught her staring at Hunter with a saddened look on her face. When finished, Lily plucked Stella up and carried the dark-haired girl up to her room to get her ready for school.

"Hunter come on!" Lily called after buckling Stella into her car seat, "I don't want Stella to be late!" The blonde sighed, chuckling as Stella pointed out that Lily had a coffee stain on the corner of her mouth.

"I don't get why I have to go to school so much earlier just because Stella's starts earlier," Hunter sighed, climbing into the front seat of the car, "Can't I just get a ride with Bucky when he goes to work?"

"No, because Bucky is going the complete opposite way of your school," Lily hummed, taking a seat at the wheel, "Plus, it puts me at ease knowing that there's less of a chance of your dad calling me wondering why he keeps getting emails that you're late."

"Why do they even email him, it's stupid," Hunter muttered, popping one of his earphones in.

"Don't say that word around Stella, we've talked about this."

"Right, always have to watch out for Stella." The sixteen-year-old muttered, staring out the window.

"Don't start this right now, Hunter. Please."

-----

Lily muttered a few unflattering words as she pulled into the driveway of the large beach house that she was fortunate enough to call home. However, she knew the teenage boy that sat inside the house would not feel fortunate that his teachers were so vocal with his mother. Slamming the car door, Lily stormed up towards the front door, throwing it open with such frustration she thought she herself had become a supersoldier like her fiance.

"Doll hey," Bucky smiled, jogging forward with Stella in his arms, "I know it sounds bad but let's get Hunter's side first- "

"Hunter's side?" Lily scoffed, dropping her purse, "What side, Bucky? He swore at a teacher today. What validates that?"

"Maybe the teacher said something to provoke him." Bucky smiled slightly, a weak attempt to calm down the fuming blonde.

"Have you talked to him?" Lily asked, sliding her coat off and hanging it up on the stand.

"He won't come out of the attic." He sighed softly, bouncing Stella in his arms.

Lily stormed past the brunette holding their daughter, running up the first flight of stairs to the second floor, before mounting the ones leading to the attic. She stopped at the top of the stairs, glancing around the attic in search of the dirty blonde boy she was hunting for. Lily spotted him at the birchwood desk, staring at a blank computer screen. Dropping her bag, the blonde walked over, not attempting to be quiet as she pulled a chair around next to the boy, arms crossed over her chest.

"Something you want to explain to me, Hunter?" Lily stated voice calm and collected as she waited for her son's response.

"If you listen to my side of the story, maybe," Hunter responded, shutting his laptop and turning in the chair to face his mother.

"I'm all ears."

It didn't take long for Lily to end up on the phone with Syosset High School, fuming with a new type of rage that Lily only ever summoned when these specific issues arose. She paced around the back deck, waiting for the line to be picked up so she could let the teacher have a piece of her mind. Though she was sure when they did, the school would've wished they hadn't messed with the Barnes-Osborne family. Especially when it came to the former name in the equation.

"Good afternoon Mrs. Tyler. It's Lily Barnes, Hunter's mom," Lily began, her lips stretched tight, "And I would like to speak with Ms. George about the things that were said to my son today in class."

"Why don't you, Hunter, and Mr. Barnes come by the school. I have Ms. George in my office here." The principal commented, her voice as calm and cool as Lily's.

-----

That was the first mistake on Mrs. Tyler's end. See, over the years, Lily found that fire that burned deep within her. She had allowed herself to feel loved and confident, with the help of therapy and her fiance encouraging her. It only amplified the fact that Lily was the common mother bear that would not hesitate to go to war for her children. Specifically when it came to people spitting on the image of her family.

"Want to tell me why you called my son's father a terrorist?" Lily snapped as she stormed into the office of the high school, making a b-line towards the principal's office, "Because as far as I'm concerned, that's crossing a line."

"Ms. Barnes, please sit." Mrs. Tyler smiled, a tight one that made a shiver run down Lily's spine.

"Relax, love," Bucky whispered, hand finding the small of Lily's back, "You blowing up won't help the case."

"If I may-" Ms. George piped up, earning the coldest glare that Lily had ever dished out.

"No, you may not. You, Ms. George, have crossed a line here," Lily snapped, walking further into the office, "You may teach American History, but clearly, your mind is stuck in the 20th century. My fiance has saved this world more times than you can count, and if you think for a moment I would sit by idly and allow you to say that to the father of my children? You're as dumb as you sound."

A sigh escaped from both Hunter and Bucky's lips as they took a seat behind the roaring Lily, Stella situated comfortably in Hunter's arms. Both knew better than to step in between Lily when it came to this sort of topic. Bucky was the one person who made Lily feel genuinely safe in the world and hearing someone say he was anything but a hero made her stomach twist into violent knots that set off the fire within her.

"I agree the comment was inappropriate," Mrs. Tyler began, "but we are concerned about Hunter's response. We do not tolerate that type of aggression here at Syosset High."

"I don't care what you tolerate, Maria. Ms. George has insulted my son's father and the man that has helped raise him. And has thrown the term terrorist out like it was nothing," Lily continued, chest heaving, "My son had every right to lose it on her. It was a personal attack and insult. So if you think I will be disciplining my son for defending his family? You're mistaken. Suspend him, I don't care. Because I would prefer to teach him myself if this is the education he will be receiving here."

"Lily-"

"It's Ms. Barnes, to you."

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jennsmischievousmind · 4 years

Text

Fucks not Found

Ghosts

Summary: You hack, that's what you do. Dying to do so freely, wasn't what you had expected. Meeting the weirdest fucking squad; losing the best part of you; falling for a thief : was not planned.

Pairing : Four/Billy (Ben Hardy) - You

A/N: The story goes through the all movie, so I suggest you watch it before reading.

I don't own any characters other than Eight.

English is not my native language, I'm trying to get better at it, please be indulgent.

Tried my best to match Ryan Reynold's level of sass aha

This is how you die.

"So you're the one who hacked the wrong guy" You swiftly turn around gasping at the sudden voice in your apartment

"Depends, you’re his hitman?" You were ready to run even if it means jumping by the window.

"Nooo, I'm an angel.” You snort at his sarcasm, unknown to you at this moment that he was full of it.

"Wanna disappear?" he asked taking a seat at the kitchen table eyeing your bags at the door.

"In a body bag? Slowly you make your way to the knives, just in case.

"You are a funny one, aren't you? I know the man you stole from, you won't get far until he got you. But, he emphasized, if you’re willing to do what's right.."

"I've already done my part for the flag." Assuming he was American by the way he talked.

"I'm not talking about shitty drug dealers. But evil war-lovers, genocide perpetrators, that kind of shitty so-called human. Those ones that are above the laws with governments' balls in their hands, ready to squish them.”

"That's gross" your brother appeared from the adjacent room. You let your mind consider the stranger’s offer as soon as you look at your confused brother, knowing he was in danger because of you.

“You two look at lot alike.” The guy leaned in, screwing his eyes at you both.

“We’re twin dumbass” your brother answered glancing at you wondering.

“What’s the deal?” you asked considering the offer

The guy smirked, “Well, to be short you die, and then you take down evil motherfuckers without governments’ backlash on you.” He tapped his fingers against the Formica table.

It took 5 minutes.

"One condition, my brother comes to!"

"What's he good at?" he crossed his arms.

"I can drive…Hold on what? Die? Who the fuck are you!?”

"Already too many questions” he rolled his eyes

"He's a hell of a driver, it got him under surveillance when he got chased by 6 police cars after an illegal race back in the States."

"So they caught up Muttley” the guy clucked his tongue

“Hey!”

"No, you interfered almost ashamed, I told him to stop the car...I got motion sickness."

The guy erupted in laughter, you two watching him unamused.

“I’m more like Peter Perfect.” Your brother mumbled as the guy left.

You look by the window discreetly, catching a glimpse of the guy mingling in the crowd. “You’re Muttley bro.”

A week later you got a text. The guy who called himself One had planned your fake death. A random trek in Italy’s mountains, an assumed fatal fall, no bodies recovered.

It was never supposed to be your life. But we all know nothing happens as it should.

Papà went to fight a war and disappeared, you were forced to move in America when you were 6.

Mammà never cope the loss of her motherland and husband. She died of a belated broken heart syndrome when you were 16.

Both you and your brother were placed in a host family. It wasn’t a crappy family like it’s always the case in some tv show, they were nice and wealthy. The father was a tech engineer, somehow you took interest in his work and start learning to code, soon reading about hackers: white hats; black hats; “We are Legion”, you were hooked and skilled in a matter of time.

When you turned major though, things turned difficult, the host family had to let you go and Internal Affairs of your state caught you looking in their network. Which led to you working as a C.I for them, it was that or prison. Not thrilled by the idea but obliged to cooperate was your new motto.

Your brother had some job here and there but nothing steady, so money from the IA was welcome.

After a year and a half, I.A ditched you, it was rather good news in a way, they’ve erased your past mistakes but said they’d keep a distant eye on you.

So you moved on from your shithole that was the 1 bedroom apartment you and your brother shared and went to your parents’ hometown in Italy. Your brother was reluctant at first as he couldn’t even say hello in Italian, you taught him as your mamma had done it with you but he wasn’t that interested.

Working with people was not your forte, you were too bossy, so you got fired ... plenty of times: from a coffee shop, a rental bike shop and a tourist city tour bus thingy. So you started doing what you were good at, hacking for money, it went well for a few years, never being too greedy - until you hacked the wrong person and got in trouble.

That's how you became a Ghost and ended up in the middle of the California Desert.

One had built a squad. No names, only numbers to identify each other. Not calling your brother by his name was a challenge, same for him.

There were 7 of you.

One, the “boss”, a mysterious sassy billionaire who decided to fund his own strike team.

Two, a French blonde woman, pretty cold, a spy apparently

Three, a crazy hitman who couldn’t shut up

Four, a young parkour master and reformed thief

Five, a Doctor, but you heard she was actually working at a Dentist

Six, your brother, the annoying driver.

And then Eight, you, the Black Hat somehow becoming a hacktivist.

Why not Seven? Long story short, it was one more condition you’d submitted to One.

_SICILY

"Your focus determines your reality.”

“Oh for fuck's sake One, quit your Jedi bullshit!” you loosed your temper typing on your keyboard angrily. An entire week, an ENTIRE WEEK quoting Star Wars!

Four and Five laughed in the comm. One braced himself on the other end of the line. Three cut the heavy silence.

“Eight, Chiquita please stop yelling”

“I’m not a Chiquita stop saying that!”

“Ok ok chi…Eight, damn you’re stressful”

“God, why do I have to team you up!!” One facepalm

“Now what?” Five asked

Radio silence

“Oh so now no one’s talking! What are you, 4?” One angrily called out to you 2.

“Yeah, uh high, literally.” Four answered One, you snorted.

“No .. damn not you!”

“You called me Mate!” Four said offended

“No, shush – Eight are you done with the system?” he was about to lose it.

“I’ve been done with it the second Three called me Chiquita!” you crossed your arms in front of your laptop.

“Hey ..” “We’re not talking about that again!” One cut Three

“Can we get going now?” Two interfered, you heard her bike roaring.

“Finally, some sensed words.” One said wrapping it up.

Four entered the place you’d hacked the system of. Six and Two were not far in case of trouble.

“Four, the hard drive is in the main office. Second floor.” One enunciated, you followed Fours progression with the security cameras.

It was enlivening, stressful, but oh so exciting. When you worked with I.A you were never there when they’d go down in action, it was nothing but boring data researched and dealer’s MacBook.

“Freeze Four, guards coming east.” Switching cams you gave him a safe path.

“Ok, you’re clear. Now to your left, third door then turn right.”

Four got his hands on the hard drive containing all you needed to know about the next target.

“Well done.” One congratulated the team

“Thanks, thanks, It helps to have a sexy voice guiding you” Four chuckled, you blushed, sexy voice? is that even possible?

“Great, kid. Don’t get cocky.”

You rolled your eyes at the endless use of Star Wars' quotes.

“Hum that’s my sister, remember?” Six growled tightening the wheel

“Luke grab Solo, meet up in 15minutes at the hotel. Everyone move!” One instructed you smiled at the thought of being Leïa. Gosh, you were as much of a nerd as One.

Climbing down the jeep Three had rented, you laughed seeing your brother holding Four in an arm lock for a few seconds anyway, Four reversed the lock, pining your brother’s arms behind himself.

You passed by them “Easy with my twin please.” Four wasn’t releasing his hold so you stopped, turning back you lift an eyebrow at Four insisting he let him go.

“Oh!” he lifted his hands in defence taking a step back.

Grabbing your brother by the sleeves as he was about to jump on Four “Come on piccino” you made your way in the hotel laughing.

Your first big mission started a few weeks after, everyone gathered in The Haunted House as One called it, an old bunker, cheesy name for an HQ.

“You don’t get it, I need a CAR!”

“That’s a car, Six.” Three argued back.

“No that’s a heap, that thing won’t get us through the paved road of Italy, believe me.”

Four and Five were amused by the situation, Three had rent a truck and an old Volvo for this mission.

“Alright, shut up, we’ll get another car!” One declared, Six flicked to Three.

One resumed the mission’s details. Giving everyone their own missions. A simple mission, retrieve a lawyer’s smartphone.

In the midst of it, your hand flew to your brother’s head next to you. The smacked resonating between the walls of the unfinished bunker.

“Why ..why’d you hit him?” One asked confused, your brother was rubbing the back of his head frowning at you.

“Cain’s instinct.” You replied wriggling your fingers for him to continue. Four snorted, Six nudged him in the ribs.

In a few months, you had learned a lot from this weird squad. Learning to shoot was an obligation, Three was insane but a good teacher.

You’d asked Four to teach you some parkour in case of a chase. Six and Four became close friends in a matter of time. Five was nice, but you were never one to be good at making friends. Two was not a big talker and frankly, she scared you a little.

So you spend your free time hacking and reading, on the hammock installed between a dismantle plane and a dead tree. Not far from there you could hear Four skating in the empty pool and three at the makeshift shooting range.

Suddenly,

“EIGHT!”

Groaning you closed your book “WHAT!?

Your voice boomed against the caravan and lost itself in the desert, but you still hoped Four had heard. It was his thing, screaming your name instead of coming to you directly. At his silence, you wriggle out the hammock and strode to the pool.

“What’d you want skater boy?”

He was lying in the pool his board by his side. “Four?” you made your way to the ladder, “hey” you gently nudge him with your foot but he didn’t move.

“Four? you called out worried, “shit” knees hitting the vinyl liner checking if he was breathing, he wasn’t.

“Hey wake up, seriously dude don’t make me do CPR on you, I suck at it!” suddenly laughter erupted in your ears. Six appearing on the edge, Four chucked on the floor.

“Pranking you..he tried to breathe in, is always the best sis!” Six laughed even harder at your confused face. Still kneeling at Four’s side, he was looking at you laughing, until he wasn’t, catching a glimpse of worry melting with anger in your eyes.

Punching his left shoulder, you hurried out the pool. He stayed on the floor watching you go.

“Don’t make me do CPR I suck at it!” your brother was still laughing his brain's out.

“What was that?”

Four leaned on the dead tree near your head, his shadow offering some shade.

“A real bad joke?”

“No I mean, why’d you hit me?”

Sighing you clasped your book closed for the second time today “you really got me worried, happy?”

“No, you propped up on your elbow at his answer craning your head to him, I didn’t mean to scare you.” His warm hand slide in your hair at the base of your neck, he leaned in, letting you enough time to push him away if you wanted.

"Sorry" he whispered, his lips pressing in your temple gently, warmly for a few seconds. Catching yourself leaning in you almost fell off the swinging' hammock as he released his hold, he grinned and left not saying anything more.

"What the hell Four!!" you yelled at him, an ounce of laughter in your voice, a blush creeping into your cheeks, his own laughter filling the desert's silence.

FLORENCE

A/N: don't forget to double tap if you liked it. 🙏

#billy x reader #four x reader #6 underground imagine #four imagine #Ben Hardy #6 underground Four x reader #Fucks not Found

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ladynestaarcheron · 4 years

Text

Like Pristine Glass - Chapter Nineteen

ao3 - ff.net - masterpost

(tagging these cuties: @humanexile @skychild29 @rhysandsdarlingfeyre @candid-confetti @rhysandsrightknee @missing-merlin @azriels-forgotten-shadow @books-and-cocos @sezkins79 @city-of-fae @someonemagical @dusty-lightbulb @messyhairday-me @rinad307 @superspiritfestival)

back after my exam hiatus!! so without further ado, here we go!

---

February 12 - 4 years after

The sun is barely shining before Nesta has rushed out to—who else?—Zeyn's house.

She can hear him taking his time as he makes his way to the door and she bounces on the balls of her feet. It's not an emergency...yet. But she doesn't like the minutes ticking by, with Cassian home alone with the three of them.

His warm brown eyes are bleary only for a second before he realizes it is her standing before him, and then they fly open.

"Nesta? What are you—is everyone all right?"

"We need to take Ollie to see his healer," she says.

"All right, I'll get my shoes. But—you didn't bring him?"

Nesta winces. Poor wording on her part, indeed. "No," she says. "I meant...Cassian and I are taking him. I...need you to come be with Avery and Nicky."

Zeyn, to his credit, does not flinch. His concern slips into something else, something she cannot name, for only a fraction of a second before it is back. "Of course. Just a minute, yeah?"

And he reappears less than a minute later, boots laced, shutting the door behind him. They set off together.

He doesn't even ignore her. "Are you worried?"

"I'm always worried," she says. "It's not the worst it's ever been, but...it's been a while." It had been six months since Nicky had coughed badly enough to need to see a healer. She remembers holding him in the first minutes after his birth—she hadn't been given him right away, like his siblings, because even then there had been something wrong with his lungs.

Zeyn must sense where her mind has run off to, because he reaches out and squeezes her hand. "If you think it's not that bad, you're probably right. You're going to see a healer. Everything will be fine."

She shoots him a shaky, grateful smile.

"Are Ava and Nicky awake?"

"I don't think so. Not when I left."

"All right...just get them ready and take them to nursery?"

"Yes, I already packed their things...if Avery won't put on a jacket, don't argue with her, but bring it along and give it to her teacher."

"Is that still going on?"

"Don't get me started," she grumbles. They round the corner and walk up the path to the house. Nesta holds out her hand to stop him. "Zeyn," she starts. Pauses. "Thank you."

It's not enough...there's more to say, she knows. But it does it, for now. And she has more pressing matters at hand, anyway.

---

April 12 - Year of

With the dawn of spring came dramatic change in the shop. Whatever winter wear had not been sold was tucked away in storage, and the switching out of the clothier's merchandise had inspired Nesta to do the same in Cassian's home.

Cassian did not have much to begin with, of course. But she felt she could rearrange the furniture in her bedroom.

Not that she had done much to make the place "hers"—in fact, she was not quite sure how. The little apartment she had rented in Velaris was the closest thing she had ever had to her own home, and she hadn't done much in the way of decor there. Briefly, she wondered if it was still in her name, or if Feyre had stopped paying the rent.

She decided she didn't care much. She was never going to go back to Velaris. Even if Cassian did still take his trips there.

While it was true that she had never purchased any bedding or curtains or a vanity, the subscription Cassian had gotten her for Solstice—NightWrite—had provided her with little knick-knacks. She had thrown out anything with Night Court insignia, but kept most of it. So pushing her bed to one side of the room and moving her bookshelf to the other was also accompanied by shuffling around of these objects.

It was during this...rather useless endeavor, she could admit to herself, of switching the order of the tiny figurines on her shelf, that she found it—the old flyer she had taken from the bar in the town center. The one advertising ships to that land across the sea. Gilameyva.

Nesta sat down on the bed. This is the paper that had inspired her, all those months ago, to get a job. To save up and go.

Since she never bought much of anything, she definitely had enough to book comfortable passage. She could go. Just set sail and...never come back.

Or maybe she could go...somewhere else. On a vacation. And then she would...come back. Didn't people plan for summer holidays months in advance? She could bring it up to Cassian now. Couldn't she?

But no, that would be insane. She had to save up. Because she was not going to live in his house forever. And where would she live? Would she build herself a house here, in the Illyrian mountains?

The flyer in her hand seemed to mock her. An idyllic land far away where no one knew the name Nesta Archeron. A fresh start.

For what she could not admit to herself, but what she had just started to understand was: she did not want a fresh start somewhere else. She wanted to stay with Cassian.

When had the switch happened in her mind? When did this pull between them not become so irritating? When had she decided to make her bedroom more comfortable, make her mark more permanent?

She didn't know. The only thing she was certain of was that this current state of limbo, of living in her room in his house while waiting for him to come back from meetings with her sister...this would not do.

Romance was fun in books, but in the real world, practically always won out for Nesta, and so it was abundantly clear to her that two options lay before her: either she would leave or she would stay. And those were her terms.

So all she had to do was work up the nerve to act on her decision.

After she figured out what it was, of course.

February 12 - 4 years after

When they get to the clinic, they are not immediately rushed into a room, which calms Nesta down. Cassian, on the other hand, only gets more anxious.

"Why aren't they letting us see the healer?" he demands in a whisper, low enough so Ollie, his head on Nesta's shoulder, cannot hear him.

"Trust me, if they think we can wait in line, we're all right."

"But he's coughing!"

"The others might have some graver issue. If they pull you ahead, your situation is dire." Indeed, there had been times when Nesta had brought Ollie in; the healer had taken one look at him and announced that she would need all her appointments cancelled.

"Sit down," she tells him, lowering herself and Ollie into a chair. She presses her lips to the top of his head as she strokes his lower back.

Cassian does, but it must be wildly uncomfortable; these tiny things with no wing-accommodation. She frowns. What will that be like for her children? To live here, where even in a community of different types of faeries, they are clearly other.

"You're really not worried?" he asks her.

"I'm concerned," she says. "But I'm not nervous. I know more or less what she's going to say. His lungs haven't gotten drastically weaker. You see him play and run around. It comes and goes for him. As long as we keep up with what the healer prescribes—which we do—we should be fine."

Cassian is quiet, clearly struggling for words.

"What is it?"

"Sometimes...things don't happen according to plan," he says finally.

She actually laughs a little. "Well, I know that."

His lips quirk at her slight laugh. "How did...how did you find out? That you were...pregnant?"

She leans back in her chair, giving Ollie more room to recline on her. Lying on his stomach sometimes helps with his cough. "I fainted, actually. And they—Miri, Zeyn—they brought me to the clinic and Amorette told me."

"She was your healer the whole time?"

"Yes. That's how we met."

"And you..." he hesitated. "She delivered them?"

"She did," she says.

Nesta often recalls that day with wonder. Her whole life she had felt—everything. Just so much, all the time. And how insignificantly nothing it all appeared, compared to that cacophony of emotion in those few hours.

"He was sick, then, too," Cassian says softly.

They have never truly discussed this before, but..."Yes. He was born...he was too small. And his lungs were...weak. Not quite underdeveloped, but weak. He wasn't...ready to breathe...yet."

Recollecting that time—collapsing in exhaustion and relief against the bed, and realizing only a few seconds later that something was horribly, horribly wrong—why weren't they giving her the baby? Why could she only hear two cries?—it always tightens Nesta's throat and blurs her vision. She can barely feel Cassian put his arm around her.

"We didn't know what was going to happen, at first," she whispers, half because of where they are, half because of what she's saying. "But he's...he's strong now. This is just...we're at the healer's. He'll be fi—" Nesta's voice catches on the last word and she can't finish it. She forces her mind to go blank. She can't imagine—can't let herself think—

"Hey," Cassian's voice cuts in. He squeezes her shoulder. "Stay with me."

You stay with me, she wants to say.

But she stays silent, choosing to focus on the feel of his arm. She doesn't trust her voice now, for anything.

---

April 15 - 1 year after

Midway through her second trimester, Nesta was more than ready to give birth. The extra weight she was carrying was officially past flattering, she couldn't see her feet unless she was lying down, and everywhere she went, people stopped her and asked her if she was excited.

The latter was the absolute worst, because she still had not decided whether or not she was going to keep the children.

But she had never been good at being put on the spot—her preferred method of dealing with unwanted advances had always been silently staring them down, and since she was trying to get along as an average Sugar Valley resident, when Zeyn asked her if she had gotten around to painting the nursery yet, and if she would like some help...

What else could she say?

So he was there that afternoon, holding two buckets of light blue paint.

"Are you sure there's any difference between these two?" he asked, squinting.

"Sky and powder? Yes." To be fair, she probably wouldn't have registered the difference so clearly had she not grown up with Feyre, ever-obsessed with chronicling the different colors around them.

"Are we doing...stripes?"

"No." Stripes? For babies? "Just those two will be powder," and she punctuates her words by pointing to the wall front and back walls, "and those two will be sky."

"Oh. Why?"

"It's supposed to be lightly stimulating." She had read that in a book Amorette had given her. She was skeptical, but the store she had gone to had given her a good deal on the paints.

"Right. Well. Let's start, then."

Zeyn could be irritating, but his endless, mindless chatter could be comforting, as well. That was how she felt today. And she did appreciate how he kept going to fetch her things—berry juice and an extra cushion to put on her chair. Nesta felt she had not done her part at all, but Zeyn didn't seem to mind.

"Any progress on names?"

"Nothing concrete."

"Ah, well," he said. "My mother says you have to meet a baby before you know for sure if the name is right."

Nesta didn't think she'd be able to "meet a baby"—surely they would just be...the same as the rest of the small children she saw at the clinic or around town. Babies, she felt, all looked the same, and even if they were older and had developed their own features, they weren't very diverse personality-wise.

Not that she didn't like children. She remembered a vague feeling of excitement being told that she was going to have a new baby sister—Feyre, she couldn't remember Elain's birth—and she had liked to play with her, when she was a young girl. But there had not been very many babies for her to interact with during her teenage and adult years.

This was ridiculous. She didn't need to dwell on this so much. She probably wasn't going to keep them, right? That was why it didn't matter that Cassian still had not written back. It wasn't...he didn't need to know, if neither of them wanted anything to do with this. Because he did not want children either, obviously. He was...busy.

"Maybe it'll look different when it dries," Zeyn said, interrupting her thoughts.

"What? Oh, yes...sky's a bit darker."

"Hmm," he said, frowning. "You know...I really don't see it."

Nesta shrugged.

Zeyn clapped his hands together. "Well, as fun as staring at paint dry is..." he grinned at her. "Want to go for dinner? Jamal's?"

And she was certain that Sugar Valley etiquette demanded humoring the person who spent the afternoon doing handiwork at your house, so she said, "Sure."

---

February 12 - 4 years after

It is just past noon when Nesta sees Zeyn again, at the shop, coffee and pastry in hand.

"Hey!" he says. "You're all right? Ollie's...?"

"Fine," she says, unable to stop her grin. "The healer gave us a tonic for him to take over the next few weeks. She said that he might need it now and again, but as long as he takes it when he does, she sees no reason to expect significant deterioration. He'll probably be on par with his siblings by the time he turns twelve." Nesta's heart sings as she repeats the healer's words.

Zeyn pulls her in a hug. "Let's tell Miri and Adil. They're in the back."

"Oh, I'm actually not staying long. I just came to let you know we're all right...and give you this," she adds, holding out the food. "Thank you so much. How were Avery and Nicky?"

"Fine," he says. "We had fun."

Nesta rolls her eyes. "Don't tell me."

"I wasn't going to," he teases. "It's a secret."

"You four and your secrets," she says, rolling her eyes again.

He shakes his head, eyes still laughing at her. "Are you taking him back to nursery?"

"No, we're going to let him rest. We think it also might be nice to spend some time with just him, the both of us. We're thinking—" Nesta stops herself. Zeyn does not need to know how she and Cassian plan to spend time with each child individually, he does not need to hear this. "He's just so tired," she finishes.

But the damage is done and the warmth slips out of Zeyn's face. He looks down at the order from Samir's. "Nesta," he says, soft, slow. "Are you really doing this with him?"

She freezes. "Zeyn. He's their father. He has a right to be included in this."

"I'm not talking about that...and I don't agree with you on that matter, either."

Nesta raises an eyebrow. "Excuse me?"

"He wasn't there, Nesta," Zeyn says, more desperate than anything else. "He just—you had to do it all without him."

"I can't believe you're starting this right now," she says, more to herself than to him. Louder, she says, "I will not discuss this. He's here now. He's a part of their lives now. He was with me today."

"He's here when it fits his schedule."

"There's nothing wrong with having a job," she defends—defends! As if she doesn't hate that he commands the Night Court armies!

"Yours and his are not comparable," he says. "Do you remember...what it was like? What it felt like?" Zeyn stops, takes a shaky breath, before continuing. "Because I remember seeing you. In pain. Burdened. All alone."

"That's enough," Nesta snaps, crossing her arms. "It's been months, Zeyn. He's a permanent fixture of their lives. You ought to get used to it."

"Oh, I'm used to that," he says, about as close to testy as Zeyn can get. "It's his being a permanent fixture of your life I can't get behind."

Nesta tenses. "What is that supposed to mean?"

"Nesta. Please."

She shifts her weight backwards. If he were anyone else...but he's not. He's Zeyn. Zeyn, who has always been there for her, to the very best of his ability, who left his house at dawn this morning to feed and dress her children.

So she takes a deep breath. "I need to be getting back, Zeyn," she says.

He slumps slightly, but she knows this isn't over. "Give my love to Ollie," he says.

"I will."

"Thanks for the food."

"Don't be silly...thank you. Really."

"Don't thank me."

"Well, I will if I see fit. Thank you."

It works—he gives a short laugh. But it doesn't meet his eyes.

She doesn't have space, though, in her head or heart for that right now. Not Zeyn; not that she doesn't have any room for him. But right now...right now she needs to go to Ollie.

---

thank you all for your patience with this chapter, and @thestarwhowishes for betaing<3 would love to hear what y’all think<3

---

Chapter Twenty

#acotar fic #acotar #nessian #nesta archeron #acotar au #i know all you know me only from like pristine glass but this is a sieblog #y'all we legit have only four chapter left!!#it's been such a journey babes<3

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cathygeha · 3 years

Photo

REVIEW

New Girl in Little Cove by Damhnait Monaghan

Small conservative Catholic community in need of a teacher

Novice teacher in need of change seeks it in new community

Will she be welcomed?

Will she fit in?

Will she find what she needs?

And how will the community react deal with this new person from away?

Filled with community, culture, and so much more – this story drew me in, made me care, and hope for happy endings for more than one character in the story.

What I liked:

* The setting – having never been to Newfoundland it felt as if I was making the trip with the main character.

* The writing: skillful, friendly, descriptive and immersive.

* Rachel O’Brien: newly graduated, early twenties, grieving, modern, giving, good friend, caring, kind, immersed in a new culture, grows a LOT during the story, someone I admire.

* Doug Bishop: teacher of science and phys ed, probationary teacher, from Little Cover, loving son, caring, kind, intelligent, intriguing.

* Lucille, Biddy and the rest of the hookers – wonderful, caring, giving, creative, strong, community minded women that provide social and emotional support for one another (and others)

* Patrick Donovan: Principal, knowledgeable, patient, kind, a good man, there for his teachers and students

* Students with their individual needs, problems, and potential

* The ways Rachel ended up connecting with her students and others

* The romance that slowly developed between Rachel and Doug

* Sheila: Rachel’s BFF

* Rachel’s backstory

* Feeling like I was becoming part of the community/story

* The music and art elements of the story

* All of it really, except…

What I didn’t like:

* Thinking about the sadness and loss experienced by more than one character in the story

* Knowing that too often the best option for individuals is overlooked due to moral, religious, educational or societal values.

Did I enjoy this book? Yes

Would I read more by this author? Yes

Thank you to NetGalley and harper Collins-Graydon House-HQN for the ARC – This is my honest review.

5 Stars

Book Summary:

Take a literary trip to Newfoundland: the island of the world’s friendliest people, the setting for the award-winning musical Come From Away, and home of the delightfully quirky and irresistibly charming debut, NEW GIRL IN LITTLE COVE (May 11; $16.99; Graydon House Books) by Damhnait Monaghan! After being utterly scandalized by the abrupt departure of their school’s only French teacher (she ran off with a priest!) the highly Catholic, very tiny town of Little Cove, Newfoundland needs someone who doesn’t rock the boat. Enter mainlander Rachel O’Brien —technically a Catholic (baptized!), technically a teacher (unused honors degree!)— who is so desperate to leave her old life behind, she doesn’t bother to learn the (allegedly English) local dialect. Stuck on an island she’s never known surrounded by a people and culture she barely understands, Rachel struggles to feel at home. Only the intervention of her crotchety landlady, a handsome fellow teacher, and the Holy Dusters – the local women who hook rugs and clean the church – will assure Rachel’s salvation in this little island community.

Buy Links:

BookShop.org

Harlequin

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Amazon

Books-A-Million

Powell’s

EXCERPT

Chapter 1

September 1985

Little Cove: Population 389

The battered sign came into view as my car crested a hill on the gravel road. Only 389 people? Damn. I pulled over and got out of the car, inhaling the moist air. Empty boats tilted against the wind in the bay below. A big church dominated the valley, beside which squatted a low, red building, its windows dark, like a row of rotten teeth. This was likely St. Jude’s, where tomorrow I would begin my teaching career.

“You lost?”

I whirled around. A gaunt man, about sixty, straddled a bike beside me. He wore denim overalls and his white hair was combed neatly back from his forehead.

“Car broke down?” he continued.

“No,” I said. “I’m just … ” My voice trailed off. I could hardly confide my second thoughts to this stranger. “…admiring the view.”

He looked past me at the flinty mist now spilling across the bay. A soft rain began to fall, causing my carefully straightened hair to twist and curl like a mass of dark slugs.

“Might want to save that for a fine day,” he said. His accent was strong, but lilting. “It’s right mauzy today.”

“Mossy?”

“Mauzy.” He gestured at the air around him. Then he folded his arms across his chest and gave me a once-over. “Now then,” he said. “What’s a young one like you doing out this way?”

“I’m not that young,” I shot back. “I’m the new French teacher out here.”

A smile softened his wrinkled face. “Down from Canada, hey?”

As far as I knew, Newfoundland was still part of Canada, but I nodded.

“Phonse Flynn,” he said, holding out a callused hand. “I’m the janitor over to St. Jude’s.”

“Rachel,” I said. “Rachel O’Brien.”

“I knows you’re staying with Lucille,” he said. “I’ll show you where she’s at.”

With an agility that belied his age, he dismounted and gently lowered his bike to the ground. Then he pointed across the bay. “Lucille’s place is over there, luh.”

Above a sagging wharf, I saw a path that cut through the rocky landscape towards a smattering of houses. I’d been intrigued at the prospect of a boarding house; it sounded Dickensian. Now I was uneasy. What if it was awful?

“What about your bike?” I asked, as Phonse was now standing by the passenger-side door of my car.

“Ah, sure it’s grand here,” he said. “I’ll come back for it by and by.”

“Aren’t you going to lock it?”

I thought of all the orphaned bike wheels locked to racks in Toronto, their frames long since ripped away. Jake had been livid when his racing bike was stolen. Not that I was thinking about Jake. I absolutely was not.

“No need to lock anything ’round here,” said Phonse.

I fumbled with my car keys, embarrassed to have locked the car from habit.

“Need some help?”

“The lock’s a bit stiff,” I said. “I’ll get used to it.”

Phonse waited while I jiggled in vain. Then he walked around and held out his hand. I gave him the key, he stuck it in and the knob on the inside of the car door popped up immediately.

“Handyman, see,” he said. “Wants a bit of oil, I allows. But like I said, no need to lock ’er. Anyway, with that colour, who’d steal it?” I had purchased the car over the phone, partly for its price, partly for its colour. Green had been Dad’s favourite colour, and when the salesman said mountain green, I’d imagined a dark, verdant shade. Instead, with its scattered rust garnishes, the car looked like a bowl of mint chocolate chip ice cream. Still, it would fit right in. I eyeballed the houses as we drove along: garish orange, lime green, blinding yellow. Maybe there had been a sale on paint.

As we passed the church, Phonse blessed himself, fingers moving from forehead to chest, then on to each shoulder. I kept both hands firmly on the steering wheel.

“Where’s the main part of Little Cove?” I asked.

“You’re looking at it.”

There was nothing but a gas station and a takeout called MJ’s, where a clump of teenagers was gathered outside, smoking. A tall, dark-haired boy pointed at my car and they all turned to stare. A girl in a lumber jacket raised her hand. I waved back before I realized she was giving me the finger. Embarrassed, I peeked sideways at Phonse. If he’d noticed, he didn’t let on.

Although Phonse was passenger to my driver, I found myself thinking of Matthew Cuthbert driving Anne Shirley through Avonlea en route to Green Gables. Not that I’d be assigning romantic names to these landmarks. Anne’s “Snow Queen” cherry tree and “Lake of Shining Waters” were nowhere to be seen. It was more like Stunted Fir Tree and Sea of Grey Mist. And I wasn’t a complete orphan; it merely felt that way.

At the top of a hill, Phonse pointed to a narrow dirt driveway on the right. “In there, luh.”

I parked in front of a small violet house encircled by a crooked wooden fence. A rusty oil tank leaned into the house, as if seeking shelter. When I got out, my nose wrinkled at the fishy smell. Phonse joined me at the back of the car and reached into the trunk for my suitcases.

“Gentle Jaysus in the garden,” he grunted. “What have you got in here at all? Bricks?” He lurched ahead of me towards the house, refusing my offer of help.

The contents of my suitcases had to last me the entire year; now I was second-guessing my choices. My swimsuit and goggles? I wouldn’t be doing lengths in the ocean. I looked at the mud clinging to my sneakers and regretted the suede dress boots nestled in tissue paper. But I knew some of my decisions had been right: a raincoat, my portable cassette player, stacks of homemade tapes, my hair straighteners and a slew of books.

When Phonse reached the door, he pushed it open, calling, “Lucille? I got the new teacher here. I expect she’s wore out from the journey.” As he heaved my bags inside, a stout woman in a floral apron and slippers appeared: Lucille Hanrahan, my boarding house lady.

“Phonse, my son, bring them bags upstairs for me now,” she said.

I said I would take them but Lucille shooed me into the hall, practically flapping her tea towel at me. “No, girl,” she said. “You must be dropping, all the way down from Canada. Let’s get some grub in you before you goes over to the school to see Mr. Donovan.”

Patrick Donovan, the school principal, had interviewed me over the phone. I was eager to meet him.

“Oh, did he call?” I asked.

“No.”

Lucille smoothed her apron over her belly, then called up the stairs to ask Phonse if he wanted a cup of tea. There was a slow beat of heavy boots coming down. “I’ll not stop this time,” said Phonse. “But Lucille, that fence needs seeing to.”

Lucille batted her hand at him. “Go way with you,” she said. “It’s been falling down these twenty years or more.” But as she showed him out, they talked about possible repairs, the two of them standing outside, pointing and gesturing, oblivious to the falling rain.

A lump of mud fell from my sneaker, and I sat down on the bottom step to remove my shoes. When Lucille returned, she grabbed the pair, clacked them together outside the door to remove the remaining mud, then lined them up beside a pair of sturdy ankle boots.

I followed her down the hall to the kitchen, counting the curlers that dotted her head, pink outposts in a field of black and grey.

“Sit down over there, luh,” she said, gesturing towards a table and chairs shoved against the back window. I winced at her voice; it sounded like the classic two-pack-a-day rasp.

The fog had thickened, so nothing was visible outside; it was like watching static on TV. There were scattered cigarette burns on the vinyl tablecloth and worn patches on the linoleum floor. A religious calendar hung on the wall, a big red circle around today’s date. September’s pin-up was Mary, her veil the exact colour of Lucille’s house. I was deep in Catholic territory, all right. I hoped I could still pass for one.

Published by Graydon House Books

AUTHOR BIO

DAMHNAIT MONAGHAN was once a mainlander who taught in a small fishing village in Newfoundland. A former teacher and lawyer, Monaghan has almost sixty publication credits, including flash fiction, creative non-fiction, and short stories. Her short prose has won or placed in various writing competitions and has been nominated for a Pushcart Prize, Best Small Fictions, and Best Microfictions. New Girl in Little Cove placed in the top six from more than 350 entries in the 2019 International Caledonia Novel Award.

Social Links:

Author Website

Twitter: @Downith

Instagram: @Downith1

Facebook: @AuthorDMonaghan

Goodreads

#Damhnait Monaghan #Harlequin #Graydon House #Harper Collins #NetGalley #Newfoundland #Romance #Fiction #Historical Fiction #Small Town Fiction

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lolmouseywritings · 4 years

Text

Cursed Child

So this is what happens when I move, have no internet access to my computer, draw mdzs and watch Paper Dolls 2 gameplay from CJU on my phone.

I will now go back to writing the WenWuxian Au. I’ve been working on.

I hope you enjoy this, and if you’re confused, ask away.

P.S. I wrote this to get it out of my system. First time writing a horror story.

This will be on AO3, I also added the keep reading line

dabaizi: I think this mean brother-in-law. If I’m wrong, please let me know the correct title. I was trying to be accurate.

Summary: Lan Sizhui just wanted to run away. He didn’t realize it would drag him into a curse filled history of Gusu Manor. Running from fierce corpse’s, the ghost general and Yiling Patriarch, he could only hope he can get out of this alive.

Lan Sizhui sighed, his breath fogging up the glass window. He wasn't interested in the passing background, but it was something that got his mind off, as his cousin chastised him.

"Seriously? I know that I run away a lot, but I wasn't expecting you to do it," chastised Jin Ling tugging up his jacket. The chilly air from the mountains of Gusu was unexpected, but it was the place that Sizhui wanted to go.

Twelve years ago his parents passed away unexpectantly from the accident and he was taken in by his A-die and senior. It was fine, he guessed, but in the short while, his senior's health was failing. He was notorious for sleeping in late, but it was apparent that he had trouble getting up. Then he had trouble eating. He wouldn't even drink his favorite wine. Then one day-

He didn't wake up.

A-die didn't fare well, and now he hardly moved from Senior's side.

People called him cursed.

"Come on Jin Ling, no need to be upset, he just needed some space. Right Sizhui?"

"Yeah just ignore little mistress. He was just, if not, more worried than he let on." Then there goes. Jingyi was always riling up Jin Ling. It was a mystery to how they stayed being friends.

"Shut up, you- ZIZHEN! WATCH OUT!" Without question Zizhen swerves, hitting a tree branch and stopping the vehicle.

The boys step out, zipping up their jackets, and look around.

"Hey what the hell was that?" Questioned Jingyi looking straight at Jin Ling.

"There was a deer out on the road."

"There wasn't!"

"There was!" Ignoring the argument, Sizhui looks around and groans in despair. 'Damn the tire is out.' He looks at his phone and wonders just how cursed he is.

"My phone is out, is anyone else's phone working?" Asked Sizhui as the entire group shook their heads. All phones were out of service.

"Dammit! Uncle will break my legs!" Sizhui patted Jin Lings back.

"It's okay.” Jin Ling shakes it off and glares at him. His stance aggressive.

"You don't get to say that, when you packed up and left. I know shit's hard for you, but it's hard on everyone else too."

"Calm down," Zizhen starts. "I'm sure none of us want to be in this situation. Best bet is to go to the nearest town and call for a tow. We can also call our families and let them know where we are."

"The nearest town is Moling. It will take us at least 2 hours to walk! And it's cold and I know that none of us want to walk for that long!" Gripped Jin Ling. Sizhui and Zhizhen shared glances, thinking little mistress.

"HEY I SEE SMOKE!" Exclaimed Jingyi. The group looks up to see what looks like a dilapidated manor. They agree to separate in groups of two. Zizhen and Jingyi at the car and Sizhui and Jin Ling to walk up to the manor and see if they could make a call. Sizhui would have honestly preferred Zizhen or Jingyi. Jin Ling, however, wasn't about to let him out of his sight. He was way too much like his uncle than he cared to admit.

Not a surprised considering how close the Jiang/Wei siblings are. Walking up the mountain was a tiring endeavor as the steps seemed to never end. It was worth it once they reached the entrance until they realized that no one lived in the house.

"I guess the smoke was just our imagination?" Remarked Sizhui.

"So the four of us imagined smoke coming out of this place." Jin Ling rolls his eyes. A nervous laughter escapes Sizhui at Jin Ling's rebuttal. With a sigh, Jin Ling walks up and knocks on the door. The icy breeze passes by, causing both boys to shiver. The door opens with a creek.

With a hesitant step, Jin Ling goes in.

"Hello?" His voice echoes into the manor. Not waiting for Sizhui, he walks in.

"Wait Jin Ling." He walks up the steps ready to follow his friend. As he steps in, it took a moment for his eyes to adjust to the dark. Or it would have if he didn't feel a sharp pain at the back of his head.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ "You promised me!" "W̷̧̎͌̿͌͋̀́ë̵̟́̍̈́̚i̸̩̭̤̦̱̐-" "You promised me they would be okay! AND NOW THEY ARE DEAD!" "Please, listen!" "I'M DONE LISTENING! I'M DO-" ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

"Wake up. Junior master, wake up!" Sizhui groans, placing his hand to where his head felt a throb. He felt nothing wet, so that was wonderful news. There was a however a sizable bump on the back of his head.

"What happened?"

"Quick get up!" He looks up and notices that the voice he kept hearing was nowhere to be found.

"Where are you?"

"I'll tell you but you must leave the room or else-" He hears the heavy dragging of chains. It was his only warning before he hid into an old decorative closet. He held his breath as he took a peak thru the crack.

Pale skin, clumpy lumped black hair, poor posture and old tattered clothing. The chains were black, looked as heavy as they sounded, and covered in blood.

Sizhui had to cover his mouth to hold back the bile as the heavy scent of iron, which he was certain was not only from the chains, filtered into the air. He waited as the groans and dragging chains disappeared into the next room. He gave himself some time to get out.

"Magnificent job," he heard the voice as he looked around to discover its origin. "Take the door on your left and walk down the hallway till you reach a door. It should take you outside. Walk down the path next to the pond until it leads you to a building surrounded by bamboo, the Hanshi. Quickly!"

Without a word Sizhui follows the directions, eyes and ears peeled for anymore unearthly beings. Thank god he didn't have to take the door that- he shivered- thing took.

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

The man sitting before him was wrapped in gold robes with a peony emblem in front. He held a certain charisma that it almost made Sizhui want to sit down and drink the tea that was sitting innocently on the table. Prepared just for him.

Guangyao, as he presented himself, had the smile that made Sizhui want to run in the opposite direction. Especially when he told him what was happening.

"What do you mean that I'm stuck here?"

"Hm, kids these days are hard of hearing, I guess." Upon looking Sizhui's face Guangyao sighed and refilled his cup. "I mean that until you can set the resentful spirits to rest, there's nothing you can do to escape. The Yiling Patriarch has us trapped here until you can vanquish him."

"And why can't you do it?"

"I tried and failed. Now the Patriarch has me trapped here for who knows how long." Sizhui let out a breath of frustration.

Great! He leaves his home because his life is falling apart, gets caught at the gas station by his friends, their tire blows out because of a random tree branch, even though Jin Ling claims it was a dee- wait!

"JIN LING! Where's my cousin Jin Ling!" Guangyao looks at him confused.

"Jin who?"

"My cousin! He was with me!"

"Ah well, it's possible that he’s lost in the manor as you, Sizhui-er. Though I would start looking. He may end up dead before the night is over."

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ Sizhui cursed his luck for the umpteenth time. There were zombies in here, zombies that moved faster than what he would have liked them too, and some of them liked to explode!

They sucked!

They sucked so hard that- argh!!!!

He hated them!

It didn't help that he met the chained zombie, a fierce corpse, as Guangyao like to call them. He saw him this time when he opened the door, thinking the room was clear, and chased him across the manor. He was lucky enough to find another closet to hide in. As soon as the creature left, Sizhui carefully climbed out and walked to another path.

Ok, so to recap he went to the library and found Elder Teacher's Scroll. It had spells for evocation, suppression, and rest. He didn't understand it much, but once he found the other items that he requested, he was sure Guangyao could help him. He placed the scroll in his back pocket, making sure it was secure.

There was still no sign of Jin Ling increasing his worry, as he hoped his cousin did not have to face those creatures. He kept walking until he heard nothing. The crickets did not chirp and the sound of the wind was ominous. It had a haunting tune, one that spoke of longing-

"Is that a flute? No, it's a-". He looks up to see a man in a black robe, red trim sitting on the rooftop, a red ribbon holding back his hair. It was a black bamboo Dizi, the type that Senior would love to get his hands on and play. It looked like the man did not hear him until he opened his eyes, looking straight at him. They had a red glow to them that spoke of pain and suffering.

"Sen-"

"My, my, look what the mouse dragged in! Tell me, what did you do to get trapped in here?" The animosity in his voice forced Sizhui to recoil back. The laughter sent a frigid chill down his spine.

This wasn't, this wasn't-

"No matter, let's get rid of the pests, shall we, Hanguang-jun?" With a few notes from the Dizi, the room marked Jingshi bursts open and out popped a man dressed in a white robe as if he was in mourning, a white ribbon around his forehead and his long bangs covered his face.

Sizhui moved out of the way as the blade cut thru his jacket sleeve. The sting on his arm caused him to hiss. Run! He thought. He had to run so he could stay alive.

He ran to the path towards the classroom, but the man had an unnatural speed to him. He was upon him, but Sizhui did not plan to give up. He took another direction, and he was there. Another and he too was there. No matter what path he took, he was right in front of him.

Fleeing would not work, so he looked around and found an old rusted blade. He held up to block a strike from above and fell, feeling the shock to his very bones. Such a ferocious attack!

It didn't appear, as the man walked to him slowly carrying what looked like an air of serenity, but the movement and aggressiveness of his blade was monstrous. It betrayed the strength that this fierce corpse was capable of.

Sizhui couldn't even get up. It was stupid! He thought fighting that thing was his only choice to live, and now he regretted it.

He thought of the mischievous laughter and the stern but reassuring ‘Mn' from his guardians, his parents, as he closed his eyes.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ "Wen Qing, Wen Ning, it's okay! I'll give them the Stygian Tiger Seal and I'll go to Gusu. When I do that, they'll leave you and everyone else alone."

"Ẅ̵̧̨̠͇̦̩̹͕̰͉̥͔̪̯̱̙́̉̅͛́̅̎̔̎́̐́̔̃̃́̏̍͑̀̃͘̕͜ͅẻ̷̤̼̭̭͍̮̝͎̪̯͕͈͔̻͍͐͒̾̌͊̆̂̓̿̋̇̾͊̾̎̒̉̆͜͠į̴̛̤̩͕̙̗̥̠̦̬̙͈̗̟̖̆̽̃́͂̀̏̀͒̊̎̔̇̎̈̃̿͑̋̄̚͝ ̵̨̛̘̯͈̻̔͋͒̀͌̀̌́̌͋W̴̨̛̖̮̖̫̗̣̫͖̣̌̌̏̃̀̐̔̐̆͛͛̆̿͆̀̈͑͂͌͑̈́̂̓̕u̷̧̖͈͕̹̬̫͓̲̠͉̭͐̈́̓͋͐x̶̳͓̪̟̯̜̯̳͙̳͇̪̳̻̳̦̺̲̝̟̓̄͋̅̈́̑̋͜͠i̴̢̨̛̛̙̱̺͍̜͚̗̟͉̗̹̘̝̦͌͑͛̌̃̎̇̔̀̋̈́̊͊̾͋̉̓̽̚͜͠͠ͅͅa̶̹͖̤̝̗̻̹͎̦̤͚̮̯̪͎͇͕̗̫͙̠̹̹̎̇̀̈́͆̃̃̈́̈̈́̈̎͜͠͝͝n̵̳͉̤͈̗̽̏͛̈́͗̊͝͠, you know we can't accept this! You paid your debt! You took us out of the camp, you brought my brother back. Don't do this!" Ẅ̵̧̨̠͇̦̩̹͕̰͉̥͔̪̯̱̙́̉̅͛́̅̎̔̎́̐́̔̃̃́̏̍͑̀̃͘̕͜ͅẻ̷̤̼̭̭͍̮̝͎̪̯͕͈͔̻͍͐͒̾̌͊̆̂̓̿̋̇̾͊̾̎̒̉̆͜͠į̴̛̤̩͕̙̗̥̠̦̬̙͈̗̟̖̆̽̃́͂̀̏̀͒̊̎̔̇̎̈̃̿͑̋̄̚͝ ̵̨̛̘̯͈̻̔͋͒̀͌̀̌́̌͋W̴̨̛̖̮̖̫̗̣̫͖̣̌̌̏̃̀̐̔̐̆͛͛̆̿͆̀̈͑͂͌͑̈́̂̓̕u̷̧̖͈͕̹̬̫͓̲̠͉̭͐̈́̓͋͐x̶̳͓̪̟̯̜̯̳͙̳͇̪̳̻̳̦̺̲̝̟̓̄͋̅̈́̑̋͜͠i̴̢̨̛̛̙̱̺͍̜͚̗̟͉̗̹̘̝̦͌͑͛̌̃̎̇̔̀̋̈́̊͊̾͋̉̓̽̚͜͠͠ͅͅa̶̹͖̤̝̗̻̹͎̦̤͚̮̯̪͎͇͕̗̫͙̠̹̹̎̇̀̈́͆̃̃̈́̈̈́̈̎͜͠͝͝n̵̳͉̤͈̗̽̏͛̈́͗̊͝͠ shakes his head.

"They have to, besides my control isn't the same as before. It won't be long before they break through the seal. At least this way I can save-" ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

CLANG!

Sizhui opened his eyes as he saw that the blade, ready to strike him, wrapped in chains. The howl sent a shiver up his spine as the chain pulled back, sending Hanguang-jun back to fight the fierce corpse that followed him.

'I guess they're not friends!' He thought as he looked up and saw that the mysterious Dizi player gone. Seeing an opening, Sizhui runs into the Jingshi and looks for the instrument, a Guqin. It sat on the table next to two white jars covered with a white cloth. From the smell of the fermentation, he could tell that taking a sip would burn his throat.

He shook his head. He had no time to think of such things and grabbed the instrument. It would be too heavy to lug this around and heads to the Hanshi.

He forced himself to forget that Senior looked like the man from the rooftop, along with the laughter.

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

He told Guangyao all about the Hanguang-jun and the mysterious man from the roof.

"Great, he knows you are here. Look if you see them again just run. When Hanguang-jun died they already knew him as one of the top cultivators. As for the man you saw, well, the Yiling Patriarch is an entirely different beast on his own. His ability to cultivate resentful energy is how he can bring fierce corpse's to life." He sips from the tea, savors it, then sets it down.

"From what you told me the Ghost General-"

"Ghost General?" Sizhui receives a silent reprimand from him causing him to stop talking.

"It's rude to interrupt. The fierce corpse with the chains. They knew him as Wen Ning, the Ghost General of the Yiling Patriarch. Though I find it odd that they would be fighting. Maybe something happened?" Sizhui shrugs. Everything was going over his head. Really, the sensible thing would be to grab Jin Ling and run to the edge of the forest and find a way out.

Jin Ling was still missing, though, and Guangyao had no way of knowing where he might be. Plus, it wasn't as if he could leave the Hanshi. He’s stuck in this beautiful and dark room, a partition serving as a cutoff from the tea table and the bed.

He notices a figure sitting slouched forward.

"So you've noticed my roommate."

"Who is he?"

"The last Sect master of Gusu, Zewu-jun."

"He's alive!"

"Hardly. He’s also afflicted by the same curse as me." Before he could ask more Guangyao smiles at him. "It's best that you look for the next items on the list."

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

With supplies ready, given by Guangyao, and an old rusted sword he found, which he knew he was useless with, made Sizhui felt slightly braver. Hopefully, the talisman's would be helpful.

The Library Pavilion was tricky to get to. He knew something was following him and knowing what the denizens of this cursed place was like, Sizhui was rightfully hesitant to meet this creature.

Finally reaching the place, he walks around looking for the secret passageway. Being in the library, however, he could not help but look at an open book talking about a chord assassination technique. Backing away, he forced himself not to jump when he heard whispers.

Lan-er-gege! You can't be mad! I've called your name so many times. Sizhui stops there. Lan? That's his family name. Why would he hear his family name? He thought back about his parents saying that they had an ancestral home once. But they never finished telling him anymore than that. After all, how could they when the 18 wheeler hit them, pushing their car over-

"Find the secret passage. Find the flags. Find the secret passage. Find the flags." He tripped. Face smacking the floor.

Did he mention how much he hated this place?

He rubbed his nose, checking for blood. Thankfully, there wasn't any and looked to see his foot caught on a handle. A handle that led to a door under the library. The secret passageway. He pulls it up and walks down the staircase.

Dust and cobwebs covered the entire place. Gulping he walks forward using the sword to clear the way making sure to not disturb any of the spiders.

"Well, I know that Jin Ling is definitely not here. He would just screech at this sight." He finds a stack of flags at the end of the room next to a jar. He makes a quick count and realizes he’s short one.

"Okay, where's the last one?" Looking around, he feels a sudden vertigo.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ Come to Gusu with me.

I can't. What will happen to the Wen's? You know that the other Sects want them dead.

I can talk to brother.

I- I

Please W̴̢̳̻̮̪̱̤̖̲̤̟̱͌̈͌̆̚͠͠ͅę̶̮͖͍̕ḯ̴̛͚͉̜̙͉̰̱͐͝ ̴̲̺̭̰̆̈́͐́͒̀̋̋̋̓̾̕͠͝W̴̨̛̖̮̖̫̗̣̫͖̣̌̌̏̃̀̐̔̐̆͛͛̆̿͆̀̈͑͂͌͑̈́̂̓̕u̷̧̖͈͕̹̬̫͓̲̠͉̭͐̈́̓͋͐x̶̳͓̪̟̯̜̯̳͙̳͇̪̳̻̳̦̺̲̝̟̓̄͋̅̈́̑̋͜͠i̴̢̨̛̛̙̱̺͍̜͚̗̟͉̗̹̘̝̦͌͑͛̌̃̎̇̔̀̋̈́̊͊̾͋̉̓̽̚͜͠͠ͅͅa̶̹͖̤̝̗̻̹͎̦̤͚̮̯̪͎͇͕̗̫͙̠̹̹̎̇̀̈́͆̃̃̈́̈̈́̈̎͜͠͝͝n̵̳͉̤͈̗̽̏͛̈́͗̊͝͠ come to Gusu. I will talk to brother. The Wen's will be safe. A̷͕̯͔̖̤͖̫̼̫̹̼͛̏͆͑͆͂̏̏͊͂͂́͘-̵̡͍̗̬̯͚̹̹̱̼̰̟̘̩̖̥́̐̄̈́Ỵ̵̢̮͎͚̱̗̯̘̹̉̋̂̔̓̍̇͆͗̈̃͑̐̈́̋̋̐͊̉͛̚͘͝͝ͅu̸̧̡̖͕̼̗͓̳͙͍̠̹̙̗̙̘̥͍̯͖̫̦̣͆̊͠͝ȧ̶̡̖̳̫̟͔̣̩̋̔̀̆̀̒͠ň̸̢̧̨̛̘̠̗͍͇̭̯̪̠͕̤͈͚͔̟͕͔͖̖͕͌̇̈́̿̏̈̇́̃̏̈́̎̃̚̚͜͠ will be safe-

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

A hand holds him up, and he calls out a name.

"Jin Ling?"

"Jin Ling? There is no Jin Ling, though there is a bastard with that family name." Her hair was up and her dirty black robes have seen better days. It looked burnt and ashy. She had a stern face, but oddly he felt the urge to see her smile. He shakes the thought and looks back, her face familiar, though he knows he never met her.

"Who-" She shushes him as they hear footsteps from above. It was slow and methodical. He catches sight of a white robe. Eyes widening, he hopes that his heartbeat would not betray their location. They lean back against the wall, standing still as statues. She silently signals him to follow her. He watches as she walks a few steps past the bookshelf to reveal a secret door, initially hidden by the shadows of the room. He works his way towards her.

The jar, caught by his jacket, falls with a loud crash. The woman gasps and holds out her hand. He darts to the door as Hanguang-jun breaks down the floor beneath him. As they enter, the woman is quick to close the opening making a grating rocky sound. The stone door should hopefully hold off the fierce corpse. His companion seemed to think otherwise.

"Quickly! Follow me!" They run down the passageway which leads to the forest.

"He's still following us!"

"How do you know?" The sound of trees and branches falling behind him answers his question. Leaving him to wonder if this Hanguang-jun was strong enough to cut through the stone.

He's forced to stop when the woman turns towards him. From her robes she pulls out a needle which she uses to cut his cheek. He hisses as he watches her make a sigil. Something red and hazy appears next to her.

"You go down the path quickly, I'll meet you soon!" He didn't question her and took the path she pointed. He stopped at a dead end. For once it wasn't scary, in fact there were rabbits there. Sizhui sits down by the tree and hugs himself.

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

W̷̧̪̱͚͖̅̐̌̀́͠ȇ̶̛̹̜̐̋̀̎̈̄͝į̸̡̗̤͈̪͉̈́ ̷̟̻͔̋̋̓͂̌̋͊W̴̨̛̖̮̖̫̗̣̫͖̣̌̌̏̃̀̐̔̐̆͛͛̆̿͆̀̈͑͂͌͑̈́̂̓̕u̷̧̖͈͕̹̬̫͓̲̠͉̭͐̈́̓͋͐x̶̳͓̪̟̯̜̯̳͙̳͇̪̳̻̳̦̺̲̝̟̓̄͋̅̈́̑̋͜͠i̴̢̨̛̛̙̱̺͍̜͚̗̟͉̗̹̘̝̦͌͑͛̌̃̎̇̔̀̋̈́̊͊̾͋̉̓̽̚͜͠͠ͅͅa̶̹͖̤̝̗̻̹͎̦̤͚̮̯̪͎͇͕̗̫͙̠̹̹̎̇̀̈́͆̃̃̈́̈̈́̈̎͜͠͝͝n̵̳͉̤͈̗̽̏͛̈́͗̊͝͠. I love you.

Ah, L̷͍̣̟̬̤̹̝̜̪̮̭̈̌̀̿̑͑̈́̐̈́̐̇ȃ̵̧̫͕̪̰̻n̴͔̳͖͗̑͒ ̸̲̖̜͕̈́̀̂͌̏̐͂̇̎̚͘Ŵ̴̭͊̾̎̌̆͜͠a̴͍͉̳͍̐̓͜͜ͅͅͅn̴̜̺͖̰͉͖̻̆̂̾̓̈́̕g̸̗̈́͋͂̊̑͌̇͝͝j̸̢͓̣͎̟͠i̶͇̚! Warn me when you tell me things like this.

L̷͍̣̟̬̤̹̝̜̪̮̭̈̌̀̿̑͑̈́̐̈́̐̇ȃ̵̧̫͕̪̰̻n̴͔̳͖͗̑͒ ̸̲̖̜͕̈́̀̂͌̏̐͂̇̎̚͘Ŵ̴̭͊̾̎̌̆͜͠a̴͍͉̳͍̐̓͜͜ͅͅͅn̴̜̺͖̰͉͖̻̆̂̾̓̈́̕g̸̗̈́͋͂̊̑͌̇͝͝j̸̢͓̣͎̟͠i̶͇̚, take responsibility and hug me.

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

He wakes with a start.

That wasn't- that wasn't them.

It looked like them, but it wasn't them.

"Hey Sizhui! Wake up or I'll break your legs!" Sizhui rubs his eyes as he looks up to finally sees his cousin.

"Jin Ling, where were you?" Jin Ling scoffs.

"Looking for you! Come one let's get out of here. This place is creepy." Sizhui nods and stands up. They walk out of the grove.

"What were you doing, anyway?" Jin Ling asks, rubbing his arms up and down. Seems he lost his jacket while searching for him.

"I was running from zombies." Jin Ling stops to look at him, then laughs mockingly.

"I'm serious! These fierce corpses were chasing me, and I had to run around getting these items. Look! I had to grab these flags to do a ritual-" He feels a sharp pinch on his arm. "Hey!"

"Can you hear yourself," asks Jin Ling as he tsks. "Zombies, rituals, really Sizhui I know you don't want to go home but stop playing around."

"I'm not-"

"Really? Then why don't you go visit jiu'jiu'-Xian? Visit-"

"I'm not playing!"

"As if! Look, I know the shit that everyone is saying. Cursed child, whatever! You just punch them in the face!"

"uh... A-die says I shouldn't."

"Your A-die doesn't even respond anymore. Coward." Sizhui turns his head sharply, eyes narrowing. Jin Ling raises his hand up. "Sorry. Low blow, but I'm serious. Everyone is worried about you and you can ignore those gossiping blowhards. They just want to say something to feel important." Sizhui doesn't even bother to get after for him.

"How did you find me, anyway? I didn't leave any notes." Jin Ling raises his eyes in disbelief.

"We sent pictures on the web and tv. Some dude caught sight of you at the gas station." Odd, he only saw granny there taking care of the counter and there were no cars around. Maybe it was a passing vehicle and the guy just saw him. It didn't matter. He tried to run because he wanted to escape. Better for everyone.

Ever since his parents died A-die and Senior took care of him as if he was their child. They still told stories about his mama and baba. A-die even taught him how to play the Guqin, though he knew he was rusty now. He stopped playing when A-die stopped responding. That was almost six months ago. Now he was the cursed kid that no one wanted to be around. Anyone that takes care of him meets a grisly end. He receives a harsh slap on his back.

"Hey, when we get back I'll stand by you and help you beat up those whinny ninnies." Sizhui snorts.

"Whinny ninnies? Have you been hanging out with Jiu'jiu-Cheng?" Jin Ling scoffs looking away, but not before Sizhui caught sight of his face turning red. It was then that they heard moans coming from one of the forked paths.

"Sizhui. Tell me you were really kidding about those zombies." Jin Ling stares at Sizhui, who shakes his head. They both turn just in time to see the fierce corpses heading towards them, now running since it caught sight of them.

With no prompting, they ran side by side to the hallways of Gusu Manor. Left, right they ran to hide from the monsters, but no matter where they went they found themselves unable to outrun them. It was as if there was a tracker on them. Letting these creatures were they were going.

Sizhui has a horrid realization.

"Jin Ling! Take this path! It should lead you to the Hanshi, you should be safe there!"

"What? No!"

"Do it! Wait for me there! I will meet you there!" He pushes his cousin and runs the opposite direction. The fierce corpses ignore Jin Ling and follow him instead.

Damn Guangyao! Couldn't he have told him that these flags were a damn beacon for these monsters! And he wanted to smack himself for leaving the sword behind. Though it would do much good since he had a horde.

He remembers the talisman and finds one that say's repress. As he runs he is quick to grab a box that was the perfect size for the flags, place them inside and places the talisman on it. It glows a light blue and slowly it appears as if he is losing them. Once he ran far enough, he found that he was further than he intended from the manor.

Luck was on his side when he caught sight of large, trumpet-shaped flowers. They were an intense blue. Finally, Sizhui was on his way to the Gentian house.

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

Arriving at the house was no trouble. It was the last item that was the issue. Guangyao had told him that at the Gentian House there should house the Stygian Tiger Seal. The only thing he found was the missing flag, which he placed in the box for safekeeping.

No matter where he looked, he could not find the item in question. Under the bed, in the desk drawer, the bookshelf with a sealed red and white urn, he even went to look under the boards, but nothing. He was about to call it quits when he heard the door open.

He hides in the closet and peeks to see the Yiling Patriarch. He looked around, confused. Crap! He’s bound to notice him.

"Aiyah! I must have left a mess. Oh, well." He sits down, pulls out a board and reaches in. From there, he pulls out a bottle that reads Emperor's Smile.

"He, he, he There's not much left so I may as well enjoy what's left." He pulls off the seal and drinks it. The fermentation strong in the air. Sizhui tries not to gag.

THUD! THUD!

He holds his breath when he sees the man stand up, angry.

"Get lost!"

THUD! THUD!

"GET LOST!" He hears the bottle of wine crash against the door, the resentful energy feeling thick in the air.

"GET LOST! GET LOST! GET LOST! DIRTY LIAR! CRUEL WORTHLESS DIRTY LIAR! MURDERER!" Sizhui almost felt faint by how much resentment was filling the air. Thick inky clouds expelled from the Yiling Patriarch. He wanted to cry, yell, anything, but all he could do was let out a pitiful sob. He sits back, upset.

It becomes quiet, the energy he felt gone. Sizhui covers his mouth. Did he hear him?

He sits still, listening. The footsteps are slow, as if trying to make the most minimal sound as possible. Maybe he heard but didn't know where the sound came from? If he's lucky he can sneak out and distract the Yiling Patriarch and maybe come back?

The door opens as a pale hand pulls him out. He screams as he's thrown to the partition.

"Oh, and look at this small mouse. Did you think I would not find you?" Sizhui crawls back, trying to get away from the man. The steps he took were still slow, but also predatory. The resentment, the ominous clouds now hung heavy in the air.

"Tell me what are you looking for mouse? Maybe I can help you?" Teased the man viciously. Sizhui is still crawling back until he finds an incense burner.

He throws it. It didn't hit him, but it gave him the chance he was looking for, which was to run to the door. As he opened the door, he barely missed being decapitated when he ducked to an opening.

"Damn that Hanguang-jun!" He doesn't turn to look back. But he could feel that they were close, which was bad. All the running was getting to him. He didn't know how long he could keep it up. He was about to trip, when he’s suddenly wrapped in chains and pulled up to the sky.

He's caught by the Ghost General. His heart, wrought in fear, goes to his throat as he faints.

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

Stop following the demonic path

Ah, L̷͍̣̟̬̤̹̝̜̪̮̭̈̌̀̿̑͑̈́̐̈́̐̇ȃ̵̧̫͕̪̰̻n̴͔̳͖͗̑͒ ̸̲̖̜͕̈́̀̂͌̏̐͂̇̎̚͘Ŵ̴̭͊̾̎̌̆͜͠a̴͍͉̳͍̐̓͜͜ͅͅͅn̴̜̺͖̰͉͖̻̆̂̾̓̈́̕g̸̗̈́͋͂̊̑͌̇͝͝j̸̢͓̣͎̟͠i̶͇̚, you have no-

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

L̷͍̣̟̬̤̹̝̜̪̮̭̈̌̀̿̑͑̈́̐̈́̐̇ȃ̵̧̫͕̪̰̻n̴͔̳͖͗̑͒ ̸̲̖̜͕̈́̀̂͌̏̐͂̇̎̚͘Ŵ̴̭͊̾̎̌̆͜͠a̴͍͉̳͍̐̓͜͜ͅͅͅn̴̜̺͖̰͉͖̻̆̂̾̓̈́̕g̸̗̈́͋͂̊̑͌̇͝͝j̸̢͓̣͎̟͠i̶͇̚, than-

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

Ẅ̵̧̨̠͇̦̩̹͕̰͉̥͔̪̯̱̙́̉̅͛́̅̎̔̎́̐́̔̃̃́̏̍͑̀̃͘̕͜ͅẻ̷̤̼̭̭͍̮̝͎̪̯͕͈͔̻͍͐͒̾̌͊̆̂̓̿̋̇̾͊̾̎̒̉̆͜͠į̴̛̤̩͕̙̗̥̠̦̬̙͈̗̟̖̆̽̃́͂̀̏̀͒̊̎̔̇̎̈̃̿͑̋̄̚͝ ̵̨̛̘̯͈̻̔͋͒̀͌̀̌́̌͋W̴̨̛̖̮̖̫̗̣̫͖̣̌̌̏̃̀̐̔̐̆͛͛̆̿͆̀̈͑͂͌͑̈́̂̓̕u̷̧̖͈͕̹̬̫͓̲̠͉̭͐̈́̓͋͐x̶̳͓̪̟̯̜̯̳͙̳͇̪̳̻̳̦̺̲̝̟̓̄͋̅̈́̑̋͜͠i̴̢̨̛̛̙̱̺͍̜͚̗̟͉̗̹̘̝̦͌͑͛̌̃̎̇̔̀̋̈́̊͊̾͋̉̓̽̚͜͠͠ͅͅa̶̹͖̤̝̗̻̹͎̦̤͚̮̯̪͎͇͕̗̫͙̠̹̹̎̇̀̈́͆̃̃̈́̈̈́̈̎͜͠͝͝n̵̳͉̤͈̗̽̏͛̈́͗̊͝͠ .

Did you forget what we promised? What's right and what's wrong?

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

Did you hear? The Jin Sect is cursed.

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

Another vision. Great. Ever since his hit on the head he tried to ignore them as time passed, but whatever happened back then seemed to want to make itself known. No matter if the audience is unwilling or not. He takes a deep breath and opens his eyes.

He awoke in what looked like a boarding room for school kids. As he got up, he’s quickly pushed down.

"You need to rest. You've had a hard night." It was the woman from before.

"No, no, I need to continue"

"And as a doctor I need you to sleep. My brother found you and saved you from those two." Sizhui’s confused.

"Your brother. He fought the Ghost General?”

"He is the Ghost General." His eyes widened as he looked around. "He's not here, but I am. My name is Wen Qing and you are?"

"Lan Sizhui." He noticed her hand stiffened for a moment, then continue with his wounds. She wrapped and cleaned his arm with a bandage and was now cleaning a wound was on the wing of his back. Funny, it must have been the adrenaline running in his system. He didn’t realize he was injured till now.

"What exactly are you doing? Running around, you should be leaving, not staying." She reprimanded as she cleaned and tidied up her supplies.

"I was told that I could not leave until I broke the curse."

"And who told you that?"

"Guangyao." Her hand freezes just as she was about to close her box.

"Guangyao? Jin Guangyao, you're listening to that beast!"

"What are you talking about?" He asked, understanding now that there was something more to his mysterious benefactor.

"He didn't tell me he was a Jin, just that his name is Guangyao." Wen Qing scoffs.

"Only because he doesn't want his crimes to be known. Listen here! You need to stay away from that man. He will only use you and throw you away once you're no longer any use to him."

"What do you mean?!" Wen Qing sighs.

"He is the reason that this curse came to be. A long time ago our leader, Wen Ruohan, lost the war and they killed the survivors off. Only Wei Wuxian stood for us since we save him and his brother." She closes the box and puts it away.

"During the war he created the Stygian Tiger Seal. It was powerful, but it did its job, however later on he grew to fear how much resentful energy it was consuming. So he made a deal with the remaining Sects. He would give himself up and the Stygian Tiger Seal. In return, the Sects would let us live in peace." "I'm guessing that's not what happened."

"They killed us all and those remaining died without medical help. Even the smallest-" she chocked as tears fell from her eyes.

"You're not alive. Are you?"

"I died trying to hide little A-Yuan. But from what I hear, he didn't make it." She wipes away the tears.

"I don't get it. Why is it Jin Guangyao's fault?"

"It's his fault because under his father's order, he incited the other clans to attack by killing Sect Leader Nie and blaming us for it. If it wasn't for his brother, Nie Huaisang, finding out, then everyone would have believed we were guilty. I only know this because even now the remaining spirits love to whisper, but Nie Huaisang, visited Wei Wuxian. He was heartbroken when he couldn't visit A-Yuan's funeral. They thought he was there to console him. They were friends during their schooling here in Gusu. Then a few days later he activated the curse. And now we are here, stuck in Gusu, unable to move on."

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

L̵̡̧̢̞̦̰͖͍͚͉̳͒͌̀͗̀â̵̧̯̫̦̳̟͉͖̣̝̄̆͑̆̾̑̈́n̶̥̔͋́̈̊́͘ ̸̢͉̬̞̲̘͎͊̐Ŵ̴̭͊̾̎̌̆͜͠a̴͍͉̳͍̐̓͜͜ͅͅͅn̴̜̺͖̰͉͖̻̆̂̾̓̈́̕g̸̗̈́͋͂̊̑͌̇͝͝j̸̢͓̣͎̟͠i̶͇̚ stood outside-

-wail in agony.

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

"Jin Ling! Jin Ling! Where are you?!" He pulled open the door, not caring about the commotion he was causing.

Both of them were getting out of here, he thought. They weren't staying there a minute longer.

"Sizhui-er! What's the matter?!" Guangyao appeared by the partition as he walked over to calm the teenager.

"My cousin! I sent him here. I know it. I saw him head this way."

"No, no, no, I saw no one come by. Here," he pours a cup of tea and presents it to Sizhui. It felt warm to the touch. "Drink this. You would feel better afterwards." Sizhui stared at the cup and felt a surge of anger as he threw the teacup, not quite hitting Jin Guangyao, but close enough.

"ENOUGH! Enough with the lies! Enough with the half-truths! Tell me what do my parents Lan Zhan and Wei Ying have to do with the spirits of Hanguang-jun and the Yiling Patriarch!?"

Jin Guangyao sighed, sat down, as if he was the one who ran around this damn place, tired. He looked at him straight in the eyes.

"It took a while to find all of you, you know."

"Excuse me?!"

"Lan Zhan and Wei Ying are the reincarnations of Lan Wangji, Hanguang-jun and Wei Wuxian, the Yiling Patriarch. Or rather, their half-reincarnations. So I called them. Pulled their souls over here." Sizhui punched him.

"YOU MEAN TO TELL ME THAT MY PARENTS ARE COMATOSED BECAUSE OF YOU!" Guangyao laughed, not a care in the world. The secret now out.

"See I made many choices, choices that led to the deaths of an entire sect, that led to the terrible descent into madness for Wei Wuxian. I didn't care. I was working my way to getting my father's approval, or at least I thought I did." He grunts as he gets up, wiping the blood from his lip.

"I was a war hero and shared the cups of brotherhood with two other known figures from the war, Nie Mingjue and Lan Xichen. Yet, no matter what I did, it wasn't enough." He gave an empty laugh. Sizhui felt uncomfortable as he felt the despair.

"I ruined Sects for that man so that our Sect could stand on top. I killed one venerated brother so there would be no opposition, had the Wen-dog survivors blamed so we would kill them off. I destroyed Wei Wuxian's reason for living and relationship so we could appear righteous and powerful. Then I destroyed the one that truly mattered." Sizhui gulped as the man in front of him reminisced.

"I didn't mean to, but I failed to see how much Huanguang-Jun loved Wei Wuxian. It was easy to see how much Zewu-jun loved his brother, and for him I made sure no harm would come to his little brother. Zewu-jun, he called me his equal. I wasn't some son of a prostitute, I was special to him. When I had the Wen's killed, the Yiling Patriarch cast his curse, which Huanguang-jun accepted... I saw how Zewu-jun broke down to see his brother give up, be taken willingly."

“Hanguang-jun blamed himself.” Stated Sizhui. Jin Guangyao nodded.

"Yes, and maybe he wanted to show that he would stand by Wei Wuxian's side. Who knows, that man didn't speak much, always keeping his thoughts to himself. Like I said, I didn't care about anyone else except for my father's approval and... Zewu-jun, Lan Xichen." Sizhui looks back at the man sitting on the other side of the room, hidden by the partition.

"Discovering what I did, Zewu-jun immediately blamed himself, for without his blessing's and his help, I would not have been able to do the things I did. When I tried to break the curse, the reason we couldn't was because of me. Zewu-jun could no longer trust me. So we- I failed. The only thing we did was just forcefully subdue part of the spirits." Jin Guangyao clenched his teeth, holding back the tears that threatening to spill from his eyes.

"My betrayal was too much, the pain that it wrought was too heavy, that he just shut down. I don't care wether any of the spirits here can find healing, but for Zewu-jun I want to break this curse and maybe he can finally move on." Sizhui sighed.

He just wanted to find his cousin and get the hell out. However, hearing what happened to the Wen siblings living the half cursed life. The memories of Lan Wangji sitting outside the Gentian house when he wanted to get Wei Wuxian to at least talk to him, hear him, see him. The pain when Wei Wuxian wanted to save little A-Yuan only to die. He never even got to see his body to mourn properly. Damn his bleeding heart.

"Fine, let's get started."

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

The Mingshi was musty smelling, perhaps from the mold, dark and littered with cobwebs. They worked quickly to clear it with only the light of the moon, from the broken ceiling, to guide them. Though ominous, Gusu must have been a beautiful place. He could almost imagine the foliage from the outside, how the ponds and rivers would have trickled and the birds singing.

But it wasn't. He would need his friends' hands to count how many steps he broke from him just placing the slightest pressure. He picked up the scroll and read the evocation and rest. As he told Guangyao it had been a while, but he hoped he could remember the hand placement to play these scores.

A nagging question had been on Sizhui's mind. Would the ritual work? And why? Figuring it wouldn't hurt to ask, Sizhui turned to ask Guangyao the nagging question.

"Sizhui-er, I have every belief that this ritual will work."

"And why is that?"

"Because, you have Wen Yuan's spirit." Sizhui's blank face caused Guangyao to sigh heavily.

"Part of the reason for Wei Wuxian's madness is that he blames himself for his adopted son's death. When he realizes that you're the reincarnation of Wen Yuan it may settle him down enough to allow us to play Rest for the peace that he denied himself." With all the cloak and dagger from Guangyao, his word was useless. So why go along with this?

"And if that does not work?"

"In the words of today's youth, we are totally screwed" Sizhui snorts. Guangyao side glances at him questioningly.

"You are out of touch."

"Shut up." Odd how that reminded him of Jin Ling. That is the most frustrating part. He met his cousin finally only to lose track of him.

He's startled when he feels a hand on his shoulder.

"I have it on good authority that your cousin is fine." Sizhui felt a familiar course of anger but was too tired to act on it.

"Is this something you've known for a while?"

"Not until I had confirmation." Knowing the man by now, that could have been a few hours ago or maybe right from the beginning. It was no use now.

Quickly they set the Spirit Flags and drew the sigil for evocation from the Elder Teacher's scroll. He pivots to see Guangyao holding the flute, Liebling as he called it, touching the mouthpiece, his lips pursed.

"Will you be able to play it?" Guangyao snaps out of his trance and nods.

"I've practiced, just not with this instrument, but it should be no different." Sizhui nods and takes his place.

"What do we do about the Stygian Tiger Seal?" That had been the only thing he hadn't been unable to bring with him since he had to run for his life. Really, he would do anything to not get near the madman.

He... he wanted to go home with his A-die and Senior.

"He'll bring it with him. There is no way that he would leave without it." Guangyao ignored Sizhui's glare as he puffed in indignation.

"Then what was the point of me going to the Gentian House?"

"To let him know that I haven't stopped."

Lan Sizhui had to count to twenty in order not to kill Jin Guangyao.

"You are the most aggravating man I ever met."

"Yes, Dage would tell me that often." He was not laughing. He wants to go home. Wants to find Jin Ling. Eat Lotus Pork Rib Soup and forget that this night ever existed. Sadly, he let himself get duped, he realized. He should have grabbed his cousin the first chance he found him and just ran the hell out of this place. Now he’s stuck here, baiting a madman who apparently had every right to curse this place, who held... Senior's soul.

He realized the implication now. Did Senior not wake up because now, in his previous life, Wei Wuxian the Yiling Patriarch held his soul. It would make sense, weirdly. The doctors could not find out why he refused to wake up. There was no brain damage, no previous health problems. He was just asleep. A-Die is like that too. They had trouble waking him up, and now his appetite was non-existent.

That broke him.

He couldn't see him go down the same path as Senior. He was the one lifeline he had against, the vicious rumors that sprouted. Cursed child.

He left for that reason.

His parents died trying to get home quick to surprise him. A-Die and Senior are now dying because Guangyao called their spirits back and the only way to save them is to put the Yiling Patriarch and Hanguang-jun to rest. The doors open and the few candles that Guangyao lit flicker off, one by one. Sizhui follows Guangyao's lead as he plays Clarity. He did not understand what was happening, but he could feel the coaxing influence as Guangyao directed the energy to circle around them.

"My, my Lianfang-zun, you're still here? I would have thought you'd have wasted away," joked Wei Wuxian as he walked through the door. He wasn't alone. Behind him were scores of fierce corpses in faded blue and white robes marred with dirt and blood. They stood there as if in attention.

It became apparent why, when the Stygian Tiger Seal is pulled from his sleeves, floating in his hands.

"If I recall correctly, I wounded you."

"Yet here I am."

"Yes, very interesting. Anyway's give me back the Wangji. That Guqin doesn't belong to you." All this time Sizhui hadn't stopped playing as instructed, but felt nervous. The Guqin, called Wangji, trembled in Sizhui's hand. He didn't see how this could be a weapon, but right now he had no choice but to trust Guangyao. He played the notes on and on, concentrating on the music, trying to listen to the scene happening before him.

"Wei Wuxian, you know that it's time to stop."

"Time to stop? Funny, the time to stop should have been when I gave myself and the Stygian Tiger Seal up, the time to stop was when we locked ourselves up in Burial Mounds, the time to stop would have been after the war when the Wen's gave up. But you didn’t, did you?" He plays a harsh note and sends a red and black energy towards them.

The sound of Clarity encircling them dissipated the attack.

"Oh, and I guess you learned some new tricks? Then again, you always were so good at twisting something so good for your benefit weren't you?" Guangyao growled as he prepared to send an attack only to stop when the Yiling Patriarch moves to the side.

Lan Xichen was supposed to be in the Hanshi. Yet here he was floating, held by the dark resentful energy that the Yiling Patriarch exuded.

Lan Xichen dropped to the floor, shoulders slumped.

"And here is the other culprit."

Guangyao stilled. With a quick movement, he motioned for Sizhui to be ready to be on the offensive.

"Seriously dabaizi, how naïve could you be. Oh, wait you weren't, you were just willfully ignorant. You know Sang-Gongzi was kind enough to tell me how many times Dage tried to warn you about Jin Guangyao? He's a liar. You can't trust him outright. He's up to something. And what did you do?" He lifts the other man's chin up.

"You gave him the very thing he needed to kill him. Your action allowed him to pin the blame on the surviving Wen's and kill them. Tell me, why were you allowed to mourn for A-Yuan when your actions had a hand in killing him." He could not see an expression from Zewu-jun, but Sizhui could see the tears.

"Tell me Guangyao, will you be willing to save Zewu-jun or will you let him die just like Sect Leader Nie?" The horde of fierce corpse's ran in and Guangyao’s forced to work double time. On one end he played Liebling to continue the surrounding shield, on the other he helped Sizhui to direct the attacks to the fierce corpses.

If they had more time. More chances to work together, their teamwork would have been possible.

It failed as a demon corpse plunged a blade into Lan Xichen's back. His body dropped.

"No!" Guangyao ran hoping to catch Zewu-jun as Sizhui let out one last attack, pushing back the fierce corpse's back. It broke the connection. Red eyes narrowed in irritation.

Guangyao held Lan Xichen's body as he wept in agony, trying to stop the blood. It seeped his beautiful white robes.

"Zewu-jun! Zewu-jun! Xichen!" Cried out Guangyao, his voice breaking in pain. Sizhui allowed himself to become distracted, not realizing that the Yiling Patriarch was right next to him. He stood up in fear only to feel him ram his hand to his chest.

It was odd as he looked down. There was no blood, in fact it didn't go through his chest, but he noticed a red energy where the hand went through. It wasn't until he felt a squeeze to his heart that he realized the terrible implication.

"I don't know how you broke the connection. A lucky strike, perhaps? It matters not, why don't you make your last amends, eh?" He squeezes his heart and Sizhui could only scream in pain. His mind blacks out.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ "I can't-" "You should take him. He see's you as his father" "..." "A-Die! A-Die!" "A-Yuan! How is my little turnip!" Sizhui can feel himself carried and as he squeals into the air. A-Die is so fun! Alway's burying him in dirt to make him grow like the turnip he is, taking him to the market and let him play with the toys. Although he never bought him any, he never thought to beg him to buy it. He's thrown up in the air, enjoying the excitement. He could hear Wen Qing chiding him and uncle Wen Ning moving around to make sure he didn't fall. No worries. A-Die will always protect him. ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

The Yiling Patriarch let's go as Sizhui falls back gasping for air. He didn't believe Guangyao's remark, but he could feel A-Yuan's feelings and how safe he felt. Tears fell from his eyes as he tried to get ahold of the turbulent emotions within.

"A-Yuan? A-Yuan is that you?" Sizhui looks up and see's the man in utter happiness. He looked so young, so joyful. Like he had committed no atrocities in his life. He tries to back away, but frozen from the frenzied look of Wei Wuxian. The man hugs him, his shoulder becoming damp with tears.

"A-Yuan! You're back, you're finally back! Please tell me you're here to stay. I'll protect you. This time I'll protect you from anyone that wants to harm you! No one will hurt you here. I promise! We'll stay in the Gentian House, plant potatoes and radishes, I'll play the Chenquing for you, no nightmares. Maybe if I'm in a pleasant mood, if I can trust him, I can let that man play on his Wangji. Stupid man, naming it after himself, ha, ha, ha!" With each word the Yiling Patriarch hugged him harder and harder, his nails digging into him deeper and deeper to his sides.

He tried to push him back, but he just refused to let go. It was becoming harder to breathe. The sound of the iron chain was the only warning they had before the Patriarch pushed him away.

"Wen Ning... why are you stopping me? I get it now, why you did what you had to do. You knew he was little A-Yuan, but now you're trying to take him away from me? Why?"

"Because A-Yuan died and moved on!" All occupants looked back to see Wen Qing, holding a red and white urn, the same one he saw in Gentian House, standing by the doors.

"He's A-Yuan reincarnated, but he's not our A-Yuan anymore. Wei Wuxian let it go. It's okay. You did your best." Wei Wuxian shakes his head in anger.

"No, no, no! It wasn't my best. I trusted the wrong people! I thought I was doing the right thing. I had the best intentions, and you died, granny, uncle four, everyone died. A-Yuan died!" He makes way to grab A-Yuan only for Wen Ning to get in the way. Hanguang appears and sensing Wei Wuxian's intention runs to grab Sizhui, but the extensive range of the Ghost General's chain cuts him off.

He does a sweeping arc to the two men, who’re forced to step back. Lan Wangji however changes his momentum forward when the chain passed by him, intent to accomplish the new goal.

Sizhui grabs Guqin and plays more notes, remembering how Guangyao guided him. He plucked the strings towards Hanguang-Jun. It wasn't strong, but it caught him off guard. He picks up the instrument and runs towards Guangyao and to pull him away from this place.

They failed, but they can come back and make an alternative plan! Something that'll free his guardians, free the spirits!

He forgot how fast Hanguang-Jun could be when he appeared by his side and used his long legs to trip him. His face smacked against the floor and he’s forced down when a foot pushed into his back. The Guqin landed far from him. Guangyao was not idle, though, as he pulled his blade out.

"Get Zewu-jun out of here!" Sizhui nods as he attempts to pick up the body. He didn't know if Guangyao noticed or just ignored it, but already Sizhui could tell his body had lost its warmth.

Sizhui attempts to move the man's body, but he was tall and he had trouble moving him. He looked to Wen Qing to help him, but she just stood there.

"Wen Qing! Help!" But she shook her head.

A misstep happens as the chaotic resentful energy acts up and crackles in the air. It nearly hits Sizhui, which causes the Ghost General to change tactics and steps in to protect him and Zewu-jun’s body.

The negative energy pours into Wen Ning, who lets out a howling growl. Seeing Sizhui endangered Wen Qing is quick to throw the urn passing through him. He shivered, cold and confused. Why did she pass through him? Wasn't she a fierce corpse? Was she a ghost?

He hears a scream and turns to see Hanguang-jun cut the Ghost General into pieces.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ "Lan-er-gege! You can't be mad! I've called your name so many times." "Shameless." The innocent sound of laughter is heard in the air of the Library Pavilion. Lan Wangji lips tilt in a smile. He hides it before Wei Wuxian catches sight of it.

***********

The Wen's took so much and now Lan Wangji’s left to wander with Wei Wuxian’s brother to look for him. He could only hope they weren't too late.

*********** "Stop following the demonic path," he laughs, surprising the occupants in the room. "Ah Hanguang-jun, right? You have no right to tell me anything. This is Jiang Sect's business." Lan Wangji leaves confused. What happened to him?

*********** "Lan Er-ge-ge, thank you for playing for me." Lan Wangji smiles and thinks everything would be okay.

************ It wasn't okay. It stopped being okay, and he didn't know what to do. "Wei Wuxian." "Did you forget what we promised? What's right and what's wrong?" That promise, they promised to protect the weak.

************ He'll protect them. He'll uphold his promise like he should have when We Wuxian first left. "Come to Gusu with me." "I can't. What will happen to the Wen's? You know that the other Sects want them dead." "I can talk to brother." "I- I…" "Please Wei Wuxian come to Gusu. I will talk to brother. The Wen's will be safe. A-Yuan will be safe." "Can you promise me that?" "Mn." He will make the promise again if it gives him the chance to protect him and the others when he should have.

*********** "A-xian. I love you." He murmurs as he held him close. They couldn't bring A-Yuan yet, seeing as the Lan was in discussion with the Jin Sect about this. It should be fine though, as his brother promised to see things through. "Ah, Lan-er gege! Warn me when you tell me things like this," giggles his love. He looked better now. His face didn't look as pale, and though he found out his golden core’s gone, it still wasn't impeding his recovery. "Mn." "Lan-er gege, take responsibility and hug me." He does, and so much more. This moment and all other moments would become so precious to him.

*********** "You promised me!" "Wei-" "You promised me they would be okay! AND NOW THEY'RE DEAD!" "Please, listen!" How could it all go wrong?! The Wen's killing Nie Mingjue. He still couldn't understand how such a thing could happen, but all evidence pointed towards them. "I'M DONE LISTENING! I'M DONE! WHY DID I EVER LISTEN TO YOU! I SHOULD HAVE STAYED AT THE BURIAL MOUNDS! At least-" He sobs and he could only watch in pain. "At least-AT LEAST THEY WOULD BE ALIVE. WEN QING... WEN NING... A-... A-YUAN!"

********* They found A-Yuan, hidden by the tree trunk and sneaked him back here. They were too late, and they prepared a private funeral. The elders however had stipulations. "Never! His outbursts are too dangerous. Did you not see the resentful energy around him! It would only agitate the boy's spirit. It's sad that we were too late to save him from the fever, but we cannot allow him to partake in the mourning ceremony! The poor boy's soul would be endangered." Lan Wangji stood outside as he heard Wei Wuxian wail in agony. He wouldn't even answer his calls. He stood there, like he did when he was younger for his mother, but now for his A-Xian.

********* "Did you hear? The Jin Sect is cursed. Many of the main family are dead. The young madam had to move back home to protect the heir. How sad that her husband did not survive. Some say he had a hole in his ribs." He ignored the rumors, when all he cared about was whether his love would open the doors. He sat there on his knees, waiting. Waiting. He never noticed when the Stygian Tiger Seal flew into one of the opened windows.

********** Jin Guangyao arrived, claiming that Wei Wuxian stole the Stygian Tiger Seal. Lan Wangji didn't care.

********** Lan Wangji can only watch in despair as the Gentian House, the home of his late mother and now of his love, surrounded by resentful energy. The others begged him to move, to stop the Yiling Patriarch, but he knew he couldn't. He didn't trust him. Wouldn't open the door. He didn't even want to talk to him anymore. He lost that right when he could not protect the Wens. 'If I gave you my life.' He thought as he stood there ignoring his brother's call. 'If I gave myself to the curse, would you please look at me? Just once more.' Tears slid down his face, his throat closing up. 'Please look at me once more.' Jin Guangyao had to pull Lan Xichen away as he watched his brother give himself up to the Yiling Patriarch's curse.

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

"GET OUT OF HERE!" Hanguang-jun stood still, surprised that Wei Wuxian was looking at him.

"YOU DID IT AGAIN! GET OUT OF HERE!" Without a word he leaves, but not before grabbing his Guqin, Wangji. The Yiling Patriarch surveyed the area, ignoring the longing look from Hanguang jun.

The ashes were scattered across the floor as Wen Qing held her brother's corpse cut into pieces. She wept as Wei Wuxian landed on his knees.

"Wen Qing," he sobs. "Qing. I'm sorry. I'm so sorry." He kowtows before her. Wen Qing grabs his arm and shakes her head.

"It's okay. We've suffered enough, you've suffered enough. Let it go, it's time to rest," she utters as a golden light circles around her. Wei Wuxian could only cry as she disappears.

Both Sizhui and Guangyao leave with Xichen, allowing the Yiling Patriarch to mourn.

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

They arrived to the Hanshi in a somber mood.

They didn't succeed and Zewu-jun, who somehow lived all this time, was finally dead.

He was still curious how such a feat was possible, but Sizhui didn't even had the energy to sate his curiosity. The latest visions left a sour and bitter taste to his mouth. So much good intentions and it all lead to this hell.

Jin Guangyao fell. He waves off Sizhui.

"Go take him to his bed. I'll- I'll sit here and then join you for a bit." Sizhui nods and proceeds past the partition.

Odd that he never really walked passed here. Then again, he was never invited to the private room and with Lan Xichen mourning... it really wouldn't be appropriate.

He steps in and takes in the sight. The place was tidy. The books were in their place. A broken Guqin rested in one corner of the room with blood on its strings. It must have been Guangyao's as he remembered the conversation from earlier. The event must have been bad since it stained the wood.

Sizhui turns and finds a sight that should have terrified him, but after tonight's events he felt numbed. There on the bed was a dried up corpse. He wore the same clothes as Jin Guangyao but where the peony emblem should be, was nothing more than a hole, dried blood staining the fabric.

Jin Guangyao was a ghost too, huh? Odd how he felt real to the touch. Then again, so did Wen Qing. He wondered how that was possible, when she just passed by him, except for the urn holding the ashes. Were those her ashes?

He settles the last master of Gusu Lan to the bed, next to Jin Guangyao. Funny that Zewu-jun looked like he was sleeping peacefully. He wonders what his visions would have been. Did he and Guangyao share tea in this room? What was the relationship between him and his brother to fully entrust the safety of the now deceased Wens? He must have been a man of great integrity to have everyone trust him undisputedly.

He walks out of the room ready to face Guangyao's ghost, only to see the Yiling Patriarch standing over the fallen form of Guangyao.

"Stay away-" He stops short when he sees a sight for sore eyes. On the floor wearing Guangyao's clothes was his missing cousin, Jin Ling.

"This makes little sense."

"It does to me. I knew I killed him, I was just confused about how he could wield Liebling. After all, ghosts have no corporeal forms, so for them to hold on to anything they would need a relative or someone with a weak spiritual constitution to possess. Let me take a crack at it. A Jin? He has the same haughty look that all Jin's carry." Sizhui stood still, ready to grab his cousin to safety.

Wei Wuxian smirks.

"Don't worry, no more blood will be spilt. We have enough tragedies as it is. Question though. You are Lan, but you're not bound here. You could have left anytime you wanted. Especially when you found this one, so why are you still here?" Sizhui clears his throat.

"I can't leave till I free my A-Die and Senior. You have their souls"

"Let me guess. Guangyao? Here's the truth. He lied. Go ho-"

"You have their soul's! Their names are Lan Zhan and Wei Ying. Your laugh sounds almost like his if it didn't sound cynical and Hanguang-jun," he pauses. Unsure to tell him about the visions. "He is just as intimidating." Wei Wuxian laughs.

"Well, it makes sense why I felt out of it. It's only till recently that I feel coherent." He walks around the room taking in the sight and stops.

"You know that empathy can go two ways, right? It's hard for those that start off in the beginning, but once you get the hang of it, it becomes easier to look at the other side." He see's Sizhui's face and laughs.

"You know the visions you had. Tell me why did you run away?" It stuns Sizhui. did he know, no wait what did he know? Lying wouldn't get him anywhere, so he might as well be truthful.

"I'm cursed, or at least that's what other's say. My parents died when I was five and A-Die and Senior Wei took me in. After a while Senior Wei fell ill, with A-Die following along after that."

"Hm... and you thought running away would help?" Sizhui feels ashamed for the first time since he ran. Why did a man who placed a cursed, who almost killed him, wanted to kidnap him, now appeared to be admonishing him as if he did nothing wrong in his life? His mood was all over the place.

"Look kid you had good intentions right? Follow my advice, then. Running won't do you any good, it'll just make things more complicated. I ran instead of talking to others, confiding to others, and look where it took me." He gives him a grin, eyes appearing to water. "How about you go home and let those that love you help?"

"But the curs-"

"I'll take care of it. After all your what 15?"

"I'm 17!" He laughs lightly, painfully reminding him of Senior Wei.

"Take your friend home and leave. By the time you are walking down the mountain, we should break the curse. I just need to collect someone to help me."

"And you could have done this all this time." The devil may care smirk seemed to be a favorite face that Wei Wuxian loved to wear.

"Rule number one of a curse maker. Always know how to break said curse." He walks away, heading down the path that lead to the library. Sizhui wastes no time and wakes up Jin Ling.

"What the hell am I wearing?" As he takes it off, revealing his shirt and pants underneath. Sizhui finds his shoes and jacket in the closet, mindful to keep Jin Ling out of the room with the two dead occupants. No way would he be able to calm Jin Ling.

Leaving no room for argument or questions, he pushes his cousin out of Hanshi and down the path that would take them down the mountain. Along the way, they met Jingyi and Zhizhen.

He answered their questions the best he could without revealing the horrors he faced. It was especially helpful when Jin Ling could not recall what happened at all. He saw Jin Ling look at him suspiciously, but figured he would explain to him at a later date. Now though was the time to leave this damn mountain.

Zhizhen was the first to hear the distant sounds of Dizi and Guqin playing.

"Wow, that sounds beautiful! Hey, are those fireflies?" The group looked around as orbs of light floated the night sky. Sizhui could feel it. They broke the curse.

Thank Jingyi who did not believe they were fireflies and urged them down the mountain.

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

The tow truck came and took them to Moling, where they called their Jin Ling's uncle Jiu'jiu'-Cheng. They could hear him threaten to break his legs if they moved from the spot.

Apparently the boys didn't ask or tell anyone they left to pick him up. He could only imagine how Jiu'jiu'-Cheng would react with him. He was always cautious about how he interacted with him, treating him like he was some porcelain doll. He didn't think that would last long after his latest stunt, though.

The next day, after a vigorous shower and thorough checkup, the injuries he had horrified his friends. He went to the hospital. The place was busy, but not as much as the one coming from his parents' rooms. Nurses were coming in and out, getting things and chit-chatting in excitement.

"What's going on?" he asked gu'gu'-li. Jin Ling's mother Jiang Yanli smiled, the joy reaching her eyes.

"Why don't you see?"

Lan Sizhui walked up to the room. It was a lot to take in.

Last time he was in this room Lan Zhan would just not move. Jiang Cheng, Wei Ying's brother, had to always come in and forcefully move him. Didn't work for long, as he always returned, until he could no longer move. He came to occupy the bed next to his beloved. He stopped coming in after that.

'That goes to show how much he loves Senior Wei.' He thought mournfully.

He didn't know what he was expecting, but the moment he came in heard the rustling of the bed. It's been so long since he saw those grey eyes filled with mischief and glee. Tears erupted from his eyes.

"Well, there's our little rabbit." Commented Wei Ying, laying back comfortably on the pillow, his voice hoarse from disuse. He held back his gasp with a choke, foot pace quickening as he went to hug him. He felt so frail, and if he hugged him any tighter, he was sure to break him.

The sob came out, but he didn't care. He wasn't embarrassed, he just wanted to make sure that this moment was real. That the nightmares from Gusu manor were long gone. Senior Wei, he wasn't cold; he wasn't menacing and most of all broken. He was here alive! Living, breathing, and so warm. It was just so hard to let go. But he did when he felt a hand on his shoulder. He looked back and seeing those tired golden eyes.

"A-Die." His father turned him around.

"I'm sorry." Why was A-Die sorry? He didn't have to apologize. He was heartbroken. Lan Sizhui knew how much A-Die loves Senior Wei.

"Ah Lan Zhan, take responsibility and hug our little rabbit. Don't you see how worried he must have been." Lan Zhan agrees and hugs him tight. Lan Sizhui's eyes widened, then softened as he returned the hug.

"Don't worry about it. I know how much it hurt."

They stayed at the hospital room the entire day, reminiscing about the past and planning for the future. Jin Ling and the other's would join along. Almost caused them to be expelled, only to be kicked out when Jiu'jiu'-Cheng threatened to break his legs for his stunt. Running away had now permanently put him on the same list as Jin Ling, which said cousin cackled. Traitor.

Needless to say, Senior Wei forced him to stay the night to keep his adorable rabbit and show him all the love in the world.

Sizhui was okay with that as he slept on the couch happily. He was ready to welcome the many more days to come.

#mdzs #grandmaster of demonic cultivation #the untamed #MDZS au #the untamed au #mo dao zu shi #mo dao zu shi au #Lan Sizhui #Jin Guangyao #wangxian #angst #horror #thriller #cursed child au #I fucking apologize about the cursed text! Never again!

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kusunogatari · 4 years

Text

[ ObiRyū October | Day Seventeen | Trick or Treating ] [ @abyssaldespair ] [ Uchiha Obito, Suigin Ryū, Hatake Kakashi ] [ Verse: Best Years of Your Life ] [ Vulgarity ]

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“Is he here yet?”

“No, not yet.” Very carefully, Ryū applies the last of her makeup. Funnily enough, it doesn’t take much. Just some gaunt, dark makeup around her eyes to make them look sunken and ghastly. She doesn’t even need a wig, her white waves straightened to make a foreboding curtain around her face.

“Ugh, I swear that guy manages to be late at every turn…” Scowling, Kakashi descends the stairs. His own costume is...mostly applied. Ryū just needs to finish wrapping his head, the rest of his mummification already complete. He claims the holiday is lame and for kids, but...she totally noticed him spiffing up what she’s already gotten done.

He might claim Obito’s dragging them out, but she knows he’s actually glad his friend asked.

“It’s not that late yet,” she gently retorts, turning her face to look for anything she’s missed. Just a little black lipstick, and she’ll be done! The second hand store had the perfect white dress, which she’s (temporarily) dirtied for effect. Some carefully tacked-on gauze gives her a spooky look, and just like that: she’s a wraith! “Want me to text him?”

“No, I’ll do it.”

Ryū gives him a glance, a brow perked. He’s standing at one of the windows by the front door, clearly keeping watch. That seemed a little...odd. But she soon shrugs it off. “I hope it doesn’t get too cold...it’s gonna ruin our costumes if we have to wear coats…”

“It’s pretty cloudy, we should be fine. You sure you don’t wanna go to Rin’s party? She said you could go.”

“I know...but I can’t let you dorks go anywhere on your own,” she replies, carefully applying her lipstick. “That’s just asking for trouble.”

“...uh huh. Doesn’t have anything to do with Obito going with me?”

“If Obito weren’t going, you wouldn’t be going. So I guess you could say that,” she counters cheekily.

Kakashi scowls, hidden behind the wrappings on his face.

“Besides, they’re all older than me. It’d be weird. Can’t I just go trick or treating with my brother without being interrogated?”

“Okay one, they’re only about a year older than you. And two, Obito and I are their age, so what’s the difference?”

Ryū turns, pouting. “I’m the odd one out! They all think I’m just a little tagalong. Doesn’t matter that it’s only a year, they still think I’m a twerp. I can tell, they don’t like me…”

Kakashi rolls his eyes. “They like you just fine. You’re just too sensitive.”

“And you’re not sensitive enough!”

It’s then a frantic knock sounds at the door, and they both look to see Obito peeking in the window. “Let me in!” he calls, muffled through the glass.

“About time,” Kakashi mutters under his breath, opening the door. “What took you so long?”

“I had to fix my facepaint, it started melting!” Staggering through the door, Obito arrives in all his zombie glory. Scars left uncovered, he instead has a fake wound on his forehead, and...well, it looks like it’s actually bleeding, given that the paint is indeed starting to ooze.

“Oh, jeez...here, lemme see.” Ryū crosses the gap, a makeup remover napkin in hand. “I can make a new one with some makeup that won’t run. You’ve got it on here way too thick, that’s why it’s being goopy, silly.”

“Uh -?” Not given a chance to refuse, Obito finds himself dragged to the mirror in the main hall, Ryū quickly getting to work. “...you know how to do that?”

“Yeah, duh. We did a workshop on it in theater class, remember?”

“I didn’t do that one, I did props!”

“Well maybe you should have done makeup instead,” she teases, cleaning his forehead. “Now hold still.”

Kakashi, arms crossed, watches the pair with a halfhearted glower. “Hurry up, it’s almost dark. We’re gonna run out of time.”

“It’ll just take me a minute! Obito should get to look the part, too. Have a little patience big bro.”

“Yeah big bro,” Obito echoes, grinning.

“Shut up or I’ll give you a real wound, instead.”

“What crawled up your ass and died, Kakashi?”

He heaves a curt breath, not wanting to admit it. “...nothing. I just want to get this over with since it was all your idea.”

“Says the guy who can’t stop fiddling with his costume to make sure it’s just right,” Ryū retorts. “Admit it, Kakashi - this is gonna be fun! You don’t have to be such a stick in the mud all the time.”

“Trick or treating is for kids.”

“And we’re still kids,” she reminds him, leaning out past Obito to look at him. “Stop trying to grow up so fast! We’re not gonna think any less of you for letting loose and having fun sometimes.”

“...okay maybe I will, but that’s just cuz I have to make fun of you,” Obito offers, pretending to flinch as Ryū lightly baps his arm. “Kidding, kidding!”

Kakashi just rolls his eyes. “Someone around here has to have some sense.”

“Hey, Ryū’s got plenty of sense, and she’s not a jerk!”

Blinking, she flushes a light pink.

“She’s also too easily swayed by your shenanigans, so that doesn’t count,” Kakashi counters dryly.

“Well maybe she just likes to have fun!”

“Okay guys, c’mon, enough arguing,” she cuts in with a sigh. “Obito, how’s that look?”

Not realizing she was done, he leans in toward the mirror. “Whoa! That looks so cool!”

Her pink cheeks get pinker. “Think that’ll work for tonight?”

“Yeah! Thanks!”

“You’re welcome!”

“Okay, now are we ready to go?”

Ryū holds up a hand. “One sec!”

Kakashi groans, head tossing back as she dashes upstairs.

“Y’know, you didn’t have to say you’d go,” Obito offers, crossing the room to stand beside him.

“Ryū wanted to go.”

“Doesn’t mean you have to.”

“Yeah, actually, it does.”

“Why?”

Another grumble. “...cuz I’m her brother. I don’t want her out alone after dark with anybody.”

“What, you don’t trust me?”

“I trust you the least.”

“Aww, why? You know I’d never -!”

“Just nevermind,” Kakashi mutters, edging too close to a rather sensitive topic.

“Okay, back!” Ryū hurries back to the main level. “Here!”

“What’s this?”

“They’re trick or treating bags, duh! Gotta have something to hold all our goodies, right? We made them this week in Home Ec for the elementary school students. I had some extra time, so...I made us all some! They’re based on our costumes.”

“Dude, this is awesome - thanks!” Obito holds out his bag, which sports a felt zombie face on it. “Is there anything you don’t know how to do?”

Kakashi deadpans as she blushes again. “W-well yeah, plenty of things.”

“...okay, anything else, or are we good to go?”

“All right all right, let’s hit the street!” Bag in one hand, Obito holds his aloft, staggering and dragging a foot toward the door.

“Obito, come on! We won’t even make it to the neighbor’s if you go that slow!”

Rather than replying, he just groans.

This is going to be a looong night, Kakashi can’t help but mutter mentally.

Once they get outside, Ryū pushes against Obito’s back to speed him along, earning a laugh as he breaks character. “Save that for when we’re closer to the doors!”

“You don’t like my zombie walk?”

“I like it just fine, but you’re too slow! Kakashi’s right, we don’t have all night. Don’t be a walker, be a runner!”

“What, like...this?!” Spinning around, Obito makes a wild sound, reaching out and making Ryū squeal in surprise as he starts chasing her.

“I’m a ghost, you dork - I don’t have a brain for you to eat!”

“That makes two of you,” Kakashi calls from behind them

“Hey, shut up!”

“Don’t run ahead.”

“First I’m too slow, now I’m too fast. Make up your mind, Kakashi!”

They reach the first house, everyone huddling up on the doorstep as Ryū rings their doorbell. A young couple opens the door, marveling at their costumes before giving them each a heaping handful into their bags.

“Hey, so are we gonna trade each other for stuff we don’t like when we get back?” Obito asks, looking into his bag.

“Maybe, if we have enough time.”

“Kakashi do you even like candy?”

“I like the sour ones. And dark chocolate.”

“I like mint and chocolate!” Ryū pipes up. “Ooh, and peanut butter!”

“Eh, I’m not too picky. Sweet is sweet to me.”

They slowly make their way around the neighborhood, visiting house after house and dodging gaggles of younger kids pursued by their parents. They even manage to cross paths with a few others from their classes.

“See! I told you we’re not too old,” Ryū teases her half brother with a grin.

“Obito and I are still pushing it,” he counters. “Most of our classmates are probably at parties instead.”

“And yet you’re here with the cool kids.”

He snorts. “Debatable.”

They even manage to cross paths with a teacher from the school, his wife helping take their son for a round of trick or treating. Ryū hoists the little blond to her hip, cooing over his fox costume. Naruto is quickly a bundle of giggles at her attentions.

“She’s pretty good with kids, huh?”

Kakashi glances to his friend. “She’s been babysitting for them.”

“Whoa, really?”

“Mhm. It lets her earn a little spending money, and she’s learning some responsibility.”

“And practicing for being a mom.”

The Hatake’s expression sours. “If she wants to be one, sure.”

“She’d be a great mom! She’s super sweet and patient.”

“Good thing, since it lets her put up with you.”

“Hey!”

As the evening ages, the trio decide to call it a night. Each of their bags are rather swollen with goodies, and Ryū digs through her own eagerly.

“Wow, there’s a lot more here than I thought we’d get!”

“Good thing we went down that side street - they had the best haul!” Obito agrees, peering into her bag. “A lot better than my neighborhood. Everyone’s so stingy…”

“So you’re just here to loot ours?” Kakashi asks, brow perking as Obito goes pink.

“No!”

“He’s just teasing,” Ryū assures him, rolling her eyes. “Come on, let’s get back and trade!”

They return to the Hatake household, sitting in a circle on the living room floor. Each dumps out a little candy mountain at their front.

Right off the bat, Kakashi hands over everything but sours and dark chocolates to his sister, who in turn gives hers of his favorites. He’s left with a bit of a small pile, but he doesn’t really care. Sweets aren’t his thing.

“Okay Obito, what can we trade?”

“Uh…” He rummages around. “I’ve got some chocolate and mint stuff. Not much with peanut butter, though.”

“Okay! What do you want that I’ve got?”

They start haggling, Kakashi unwinding the bandages on his face enough to chew some sour Starbursts. He can’t help but be amused at how seriously they take it. Unlike himself, they both sport some pretty hefty sweet teeth.

“But that’s not fair!”

“I don’t want them!”

“Then take some more of these!”

“It’s fine!”

“Ryū, he said he doesn’t want them,” Kakashi cuts in, getting tired of their babble.

“But -!”

“Are we going to watch a scary movie?”

The question acts as the perfect distraction. The other two teens blink. “...are we?”

“Might as well sit and watch something while we eat all this, huh?” Kakashi pops another Starburst.

Obito glances to a clock. “It’s kinda late, though. Should I head home?”

“Aww, already?” Ryū gives Kakashi a pleading look. “Can he stay?”

“What?”

“Tomorrow’s Sunday, it’s not like we need to be up for school! He can just sleep over after the movie. We can put the inflatable mattress in your room!”

A hint of suspicion colors his gaze. “You’re gonna have to make extra breakfast.”

“I don’t mind! Pleeease? We’re having so much fun, I don’t wanna quit yet!”

Ugh, she’s too convincing for her own good. “Fine...I’ll make some popcorn. Go find a movie.”

“Yay!”

...he’s going to regret this, isn’t he?

Throwing a bag of popcorn into the microwave, Kakashi subtly watches into the living room. Ryū and Obito both look over Netflix, trying to find a good movie.

“No, not that one! It’s too scary!”

“I thought that’s the point?”

“I wanna be able to sleep tonight!”

“Nothing to be scared of! Kakashi and I will be here, right?”

“W-well, yeah...but -?”

“Okay, let’s keep looking. Scaredy cat.”

“Am not!”

Obito just chuckles. “How about this?”

“...okay.”

“You sure?”

“Yeah.”

Kakashi just rolls his eyes, splitting the popcorn three ways. “Here.”

Lights turned out, they start the movie.

Like most horror films, it starts out slow. Ryū, wedged between the boys, sinks into her seat and subconsciously munches her popcorn, staring at the screen. And despite his usual boredom with the genre, even Kakashi pays attention.

And then the first jumpscare happens.

“Eep!”

Kakashi flinches as Ryū shrieks, shying back from her slightly as his ear complains. But then he glances over to check on her.

And she’s curled up into Obito’s shoulder.

His eye gives a slight twitch.

Obito, watching wide-eyed, hasn’t really reacted. But a few minutes later, when another shot of the movie’s monster flashes across the screen, he lifts an arm without breaking his stare at the screen to let her closer.

Maybe this was a bad idea.

By the end, neither of them have moved. Only once Kakashi flicks on a light do they both jolt, realizing their positions.

“...time for bed,” Kakashi then mutters. “C’mon Obito, help me set up the air mattress.”

“Uh...right.”

Ryū scurries to the bathroom to brush her teeth, the boys awkwardly heading to Kakashi’s room.

Kakashi doesn’t say a word, letting Obito stew in it for a while.

“So, uh...Ryū really doesn’t like scary movies, huh?”

Here we go. “She likes ones with ghosts. Gore bugs her, though.”

“Really? Doesn’t she want to be a nurse?”

“Mhm.”

“...then -?”

“There’s a difference between real world injuries and overdone movie wounds,” Kakashi sighs as he throws some blankets over the temporary mattress. “If it’s too over the top, it freaks her out. Besides, she’s only sixteen. She’ll get over it before she actually gets into med school.”

“...right.”

More awkward silence.

“Does she, uh…”

“Does she what?”

“Does she...like me?”

Oh brother. “She seems to tolerate you pretty well, yea.”

“That’s not what I mean! I mean does she...like me?”

“How should I know? Ask her if you’re so curious.”

“I can’t just ask her that!”

“Why not?”

“Cuz -!” Okay, he doesn’t really have a reason. “...it would be weird.”

“Weird.”

“Yeah!”

“What are you, twelve? No wonder you’ve never had a girlfriend.”

“Maybe I haven’t wanted one!”

Kakashi deadpans. “...do you like her?”

Obito flashes pink. “...I dunno. I...I guess so.” A pause. “...is that...bad?”

“You tell me.”

“I mean, you’re her brother, and…” Something seems to sink in. “...oh…”

“Yeah. ‘Oh’.” Finished, Kakashi just glances to his friend. “...you’re an idiot, but...apparently she’s into that sort of thing.”

“...wait, she -?”

“Yeah. If you weren’t thick as a brick wall, you’d have noticed by now.”

Suddenly Obito is far more nervous. “...are you mad?”

Kakashi sighs. “...no. I just worry. That’s what big brothers do.”

“...sooo…?”

“...so...just don’t fuck it up. Then I won’t have a reason to get mad.”

“Er...right. Okay.”

“Okay guys, bathroom’s free! G’night!”

Obito fumbles for a moment. “G-goodnight!”

“Night,” Kakashi calls back. Once he’s ready for bed, he slips under his covers, hearing Obito do the same.

...well, breakfast is going to be interesting.

Well this is...late and a bit on the short side, but I ran out of time. Today was busy and I ran out of steam =w= But it’s done! Also got to rest run the sub-verse idea of Ryū and Kakashi being related cuz I just like the vibe :3 Anywho, just some silly fluff with out favorite dorks. Makes me sad trick or treating won’t really be a thing this year (if people are smart, anyway). ...I’d say more but I’m tired :’D Thanks for reading!

#obiryū october #abyssaldespair #uchiha obito #suigin ryū #hatake kakashi #best years of your life [ au ]#vulgarity //

3 notes · View notes

three-houses-text-files · 5 years

Text

byleth/claude

c-s support + paired ending + night of the ball

Claude: Hey, Teach. I see you're as stony-faced as usual. C: Hmm. I can't tell if you're feeling resigned or if you're just lost in thought. Or maybe you simply don't care about anything that's going on. C: Oh... Sorry. I really didn't mean to be rude. I just find you fascinating. C: Actually, there's something I'd like to talk to you about. Can you spare some time?

>Sure.

C: That's just the sort of attitude I'd expect from a new teacher!

>I'm busy.

C: Is that right? Maybe this is news to you, but teachers are supposed to display an active interest in the well-being of their students. Students...like me.

C: Speaking of, before you came here, you were a mercenary, right? Always getting your hands dirty on the battlefield and whatnot? C: It's a bit unusual that you suddenly decided to become a teacher one day. C: In any case, I've been meaning to ask. Did your father teach you how to fight?

>Yes, he did.

C: I figured. Your father used to lead the knights, didn't he? And I hear he was a legendary mercenary as well.

>No, he didn't.

C: Is that so? Well, I'm sure you grew up watching his fighting style, even if he didn't teach you directly.

C: It must have been hard on your mother when you followed in your father's footsteps and became a mercenary too.

>I never knew my mother.

C: I see. I suppose you grew up moving from battlefield to battlefield with your father then. C: You know, for someone who's right around the same age as me, you certainly have an unusual amount of composure. C: I guess it's only natural that you'd be different from young nobles who grew up in the lap of luxury.

>You don't seem like a noble either.

C: Ha! Well, even so, I am heir to House Riegan, the leading family of the Alliance. C: But I didn't exactly grow up in luxury like most people of noble blood. C: Hey, maybe that's why you and I get along so well. C: Folks like us should stick together. As house leader, I'll do all I can to help you out. We can start by making time for more little chats like this.

——————————————————————————————

b (i)

C: Hey, Teach! Hold on a minute, OK? I'm gonna have this cleared up in no time.

>What are you doing?

C: I came across a fascinating book about poisons, and so I wanted to try mixing one up myself.

>Need some help?

C: Nah, that's OK. I'll be finished soon. I'm just in the middle of mixing up a new poison.

C: Aaand...done! C: What do you think of that, Teach? A colorless, odorless poison! Say...care to test it out for me?

>Sure.

C: Whoa, really?! Heh, actually, I was just kidding. If you drink this, in two days' time you'll have terrible, um...let's call it stomach trouble.

>What does it do?

C: In two days' time you'll have a terrible case of...let's call it stomach trouble. It's a peaceful poison, so you'll live, but you'll certainly be inconvenienced.

C: I hear your silent question, Teach. Why the delay? That's so it can be used even if you don't have access to the target when you need the poison to take effect. C: Um, naturally, I have no immediate plans for this stuff! I suppose I just felt like broadening the ol' horizons a bit. C: When devising schemes, it's best to have as many options at your disposal as possible. Expanding those options is kind of a hobby for me.

>Why such a dangerous hobby?

C: Well, I grew up in an environment where it was necessary to think that way. C: It's like I told you before, I wasn't born into a life of luxury. C: Ever since I was a child, I've always been seen as...different from those around me. An outsider of sorts. C: I've been resented and hated. There have even been attempts on my life. I don't believe I've earned such treatment, but that's how it goes for people like me.

>I don't think of you as an outsider.

C: Thanks, Teach. You know, in many ways I'm just a normal person like everyone else. But in the right environment, anyone could be seen as an outsider. C: It can become...overwhelming. That's why I kept running. Kept fighting. C: As a kid I spent a lot of time licking my wounds and coming up with schemes, trying to keep my nose out of trouble while plotting against my enemies. C: My parents always told me I wouldn't grow stronger if I didn't learn to fight my own battles. C: And so, in the end, I did. And I grew up to be as independent and self-reliant as my parents always wished for me to be. Lucky me, right?

>You've been through a lot.

>You grew up well.

C: If anyone knows what I'm talking about, it must be you. Eh, Teach? I get the feeling you know what it's like to be an outsider. C: The moment I first laid eyes on you, I knew you weren't like everyone else. People don't care for folks like that... You'd do well to watch your back. C: On the bright side, that's also part of the reason that I find you so interesting.

——————————————————————————————

b (ii)

C: Hey, Teach. Do you believe in gods? C: I don't necessarily mean the goddess of the Seiros religion. Just...gods in general. C: Do you believe that incredible beings who control the fates of all really exist?

>I do.

C: Huh. That's not the answer I was expecting. Though, honestly, I've recently become a bit of a believer myself.

>I do not.

C: Yeah, I didn't think so. I never used to believe in that sort of thing either.

C: I've always hated the idea of praying to a god. After all, you can only really rely on yourself. C: I still believe that. You can't win a war by leaving your fate in the hands of a god. C: Only tangible facts can really decide a war. Which side has the most troops, the best tactics, the better organization and planning. C: Of course, miracles can happen. And by that, I mean things that are completely outside of your control. C: Things that only seem to add up if you believe in the concept of fate... C: Things like...well, like meeting you, for example.

>What do you mean?

C: You just seem sort of...impossible. I think everyone would agree with that. C: You can wield the Sword of the Creator, you're a tactical genius, and you have this strange ability to earn the trust of anyone you cross paths with. C: Before I met you, I never imagined that it was possible for someone like you to exist. C: And yet, now that I know you, your presence in my life has quickly become invaluable. C: In fact, it's hard to imagine making my dreams come true without your help. C: Because of that, I can't believe for a second that our meeting was just a coincidence. That means it must have been fate. C: Maybe it was a miracle. Or maybe some god empathized with me and my dreams.

>Some god?

C: Again, I don't mean the goddess of Fódlan. Though... I suppose it may be hard for you to grasp what I'm talking about. C: People all over the world have different ideas about who or what the gods are, right? Even in distant lands across the ocean or over the mountains... C: They have gods who see the world as a whole, who don't care about Fódlan's borders... C: Who don't meddle in our affairs. Who don't grant life or take it away. C: And maybe, sometimes, they'll make a miracle happen. A god like that... That's the sort of god I think I could believe in.

>I don't understand.

C: Well, it doesn't really matter. Maybe gods like that only exist in my own head.

>I think I understand.

C: Careful, Teach! You'll anger the followers of Seiros if you say things like that.

C: I'm just speaking my mind, that's all. I think people should be free to believe in whatever gods they want. C: If a person believes in a god and that god becomes a support system for them, that's a good thing. That's what a god should be. C: Anyway... Maybe I've overstepped a bit.

>It doesn't matter.

C: I knew you'd understand.

>You have.

C: Sheesh, no need to take offense! I just thought you might understand how I feel.

C: In any case, let's keep this conversation between the two of us, yeah?

——————————————————————————————

C: Oh, hey there. What are you doing up at this hour?

>I couldn't sleep.

Is that right? I guess the more you have to think about, the harder it is to fall asleep.

>I could ask you the same question.

C: My brain's just...busy. Thoughts keep going around and around in there, and meanwhile my eyes are wide open.

C: At times like this, I like to gaze up at the stars to clear my head. I've been that way since I was a kid. C: Looking up at the big, starry sky makes my dreams feel small...which makes it feel like I can actually make them come true. C: I didn't believe in gods when I was a kid. Maybe that's because the night sky took their place for me. C: Hey, Teach... Will you talk with me a while? C: I bet you've figured this out, but I wasn't born in Fódlan. C: Where I come from, the people of Fódlan are looked down on as cowards. C: Technically, that cowardice runs in my veins. On my mother's side, anyway. C: That's why the people who were around me when I was growing up thought of me as an outsider. C: But I don't believe the people of Fódlan are cowards. That kind of perspective is just based on ignorance. C: The person from Fódlan who I know best is my mother. C: She fell in love with a man from the wrong side of the border and had the guts to leave home to pursue that love. C: I always threw that in the faces of anyone who tried to make a fool of me. My mother is proof the people of Fódlan aren't all cowards. C: Just saying that doesn't achieve anything, though. I need to destroy the prejudices that have taken root in my homeland. C: That's why I came here, to see Fódlan with my own eyes. I thought I might be able to find a new perspective that could help me change things. C: And what did I find? That the people here view anyone who's an outsider as a beast of sorts. C: I was shocked. Even though our cultures and beliefs are completely different, our two lands have that much in common. C: That's when I realized the only way to change things is to bring the whole world together and start anew. C: That's the dream I've been working toward since I first entered the Officers Academy five years ago. C: To unify the Alliance, and then all of Fódlan, and to bring a new set of values to this new land of mine... C: After that, I'd expand that vision to the rest of the world. Break down the walls and let a new perspective come rushing in! Start all over! C: Do you think that's just a crazy pipe dream? Or a brilliant ambition?

>Can you make that pipe dream come true?

>Can you rise to the challenge of that ambition?

C: Not too long ago, I would have said that it was too much for me to accomplish on my own. C: But that's not how I feel anymore. And that's because I have you on my side now. C: Lately, I've spent a lot of time thinking about how I wouldn't have made it this far without you. C: You and me, Teach. We can go anywhere. Do anything. C: I hope that you always walk in step with me... C: At least until the day comes when we can look out at the peaceful world we've built. Together.

——————————————————————————————

C: Sorry for calling you out here like this. I wanted to talk, just the two of us. C: First of all, I wanted to say thank you for all your hard work. It seems like our long struggle may finally be coming to an end.

>Do you think it's really the end?

C: The way forward will certainly be rough. Right now, Fódlan is like a newborn. Frail and easily upset. C: If we don't create a new ruling system soon, the Empire and Kingdom will descend into chaos. C: The coronation ceremony is the first step. Only then will Fódlan truly be a single, united land. C: I'm sorry that I won't be by your side at such an important event, but I'm certain you'll do great.

>You won't be there?!

C: I must return to my homeland. As for ruling this new, unified land... Well, I'll leave that to you.

>...

C: The Fódlan blood that flows in my veins... I've made use of it as best I could. C: Now I've got to use my other bloodline to change my homeland for the better. C: I have royal connections there too, insignificant as they may be. It's time for me to struggle all over again and see what good I can do. C: If I don't change things in both Fódlan and the lands beyond, I'll never set eyes on the kind of world I've dreamed of creating.

>I can't be a ruler.

C: You're the successor Rhea appointed, aren't you? And now you're also the hero who saved Fódlan. C: All those weak people who have nothing to cling to but their goddess... They'll rely on you just like they used to rely on Rhea. C: You'll be a leader all who are struggling to survive in war-torn lands can look up to. C: And I...I want a ruler who can lay down a new set of values for the people. Values that don't exclude anyone for being different. C: I know it's a lot to ask. But you're the only one who can do it. C: ... C: I have something else to ask. Please... I hope you'll accept this. C: When I first saw you wield the Sword of the Creator, I wanted to use your power to my advantage. C: I wanted to use you to make my dream of a new world come true. C: But before long, I realized what I really wanted was to see that new world...with you by my side. C: I still feel that way, you know. I always will. That's why I have to leave. C: But nothing will stop me from coming back. There's no way I'm gonna let you go. You know that, don't you? C: Thank you... For everything. C: I'll be back before you know it. We'll only be apart for a short while. C: And now... I'm off to cross Fódlan's Throat. C: I love you. With everything I am. And the next time we see each other...it will be at the dawn of a whole new world. A peaceful, happy world.

——————————————————————————————

paired ending

After ascending the throne as the first leader of the United Kingdom of Fódlan, Byleth sought to rebuild the war-torn towns and villages and to help guide the reformation of the Church of Seiros. After a few months of peace, remnants of the Imperial army joined with those who slither in the dark and marched upon the capital city of Derdriu. The new kingdom lacked the power to repel the invaders, but when defeat seemed imminent, a battle cry rang out from the east. Claude, the newly-crowned King of Almyra, led a mighty army that broke through the rebel forces with ease. This show of solidarity forever altered the course of history, heralding a new age of unity.

——————————————————————————————

night of the ball

C: Oh. Hey, Teach. What brings you to the Goddess Tower? C: You know what, never mind. The answer is as clear as day. You couldn't bear the ball anymore and simply had to escape.

>I wouldn't say that...

C: There's nothing wrong with admitting you're not\ncomfortable in a noisy crowd.

>I just needed a break.

C: Really, I get it. I'm the same way.

>I don't believe it.

C: Ha! See right through me, do you? But I really do mean it. Parties aren't for me. C: Music and fun are all well and good, but those dances the nobles do are...something else. C: I was never really taught to do that sort of thing. My upbringing was...lacking in certain ways.

>Even though you're from a noble family?

>Even though you're heir to the Alliance?

C: Even so. I may have secured a fancy new title, but who I am on the inside... Well, status alone can't change that. C: That's a bit of an aside, though. Say, Teach...have you heard the legends about this tower? C: They say if a man and a woman pray for the same thing here, on this night, the goddess will grant their wish without fail.

>Why tonight?

C: Who knows? Maybe it has something to do with celebrating the anniversary of the monastery's completion. C: Maybe the goddess comes down from above on this night and this night alone to celebrate with us. Even goddesses like to party, right? C: The truth is that it's just a legend the students here like to tell. It's not based on any real facts. C: But I suppose it would be a waste to pass up a chance of having our wish granted. What do you say, Teach? Care to try?

>What would we pray for?

C: Hm... Let's see... How about we pray for our ambitions to come true? C: You don't exactly seem like the selfish type, but even you must have an ambition or two.

>I do.

C: That's what I thought. It's the same for everyone.

>I do not.

C: Even if you're not aware of it, I'm sure there's something your heart of hearts wishes for.

>More of a hope...

C: No one is ever completely satisfied. Everyone has something they long for. Otherwise, what's the point of it all?

C: Of course, same goes for me. Without even realizing it, I found myself holding tight to some pretty big ambitions. C: If you would... I would love for you to share in those ambitions with me, Teach. C: But all that aside, let's get started. Let's pray to the goddess before she tuckers out for the evening. OK... Here goes. C: Oh, divine Goddess! Hear our prayers! We beseech you and your radiance! Please, grant us that which we seek! C: Huh. C: I think that should do it. The goddess'll make our dreams come true now, yeah?

>I wonder.

C: At any rate, we've done all we can. Whether we actually believe our dreams will come true or not is up to us. C: I suppose we should head back soon. I'm sure everyone is looking for you. C: Just promise to spare a dance for me. OK, Teach? I swear, so long as it's not one of those goofy noble dances, I am a treasure on the dance floor!

#fire emblem three houses spoilers #fe16 spoilers #fe3h spoilers #byleth x claude #claude x byleth

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dndwithsuperbestfriends · 4 years

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Session 8 “We make a lot of Naruto references”

So after a Fellowship phase where we all biggered our brains and also muscles, we all return to the University of Laketown where we discuss helping Erindur taking back an untakable mountain, but in the months we’ve been gone The Evil Hobbit of Laketown Munroe has gone into hiding because the evidence has now put him wanted in the eyes of the law after years of weaseling his way out of legal trouble. The people of Laketown are in an uproar asking for his arrest for now it’s up to the party to find him, especially since he still has one of the shards.

(Also, during the Fellowship phase we forgot to pay King Thranduil after using the path on Mirkwood. Larkspur doesn’t get in trouble but her king does the whole “I’m not mad I’m just disappointed” and she glares at Belladonna who is now one of the richest people in Middle Earth)

The scholars tell us that the local gang, the Barrelers might be willing to help us if we can convince them.

Frank talks about how he is going to kill Munroe and all of the twisted murderhobo methods, but Rocks steps up and says they should spare him and allow the legal system to deal with him. The gear-turning noises bit is Franks players face IRL being like “Is this hobbit being #$%#ing serious right now”.

Rocks goes into a monologue about how years ago a former adventurer of Laketown had once gone to the nearby forest after reports of a baby goblin messing with small game traps, and when they cornered it she pulled her bow back, but she stopped and assessed the situation to see it wasn’t a baby goblin at all, it was just a feral child. Then Rocks mumbles something, but claims that sometimes the answer isn’t violence, it’s mercy.

Belladonna is constantly saying “So was it you?” but they don’t answer. Although this hilarious exchange does follow;

Male Elf Scholar: That is very profound story, for a child.

Rocks: ...Sir, I’m 30.

Male Elf Scholar: But you’re-

Rocks: I’m a Halfling

Male Elf Scholar: But you’re wearing shoes

I IRL look over at the DM and he says until my character stops wearing shoes they will continue to be mistaken as a human child. (Challenge accepted)

Leswen is reminded to use the ‘Drug Rock’ (code name for the Seeing Stone) to maybe find him, but her player rolls bad again so she basically OD’s and attracts the attention of everyone. The Scholars berate us for keeping the stone a secret, because the item lets the Dark Lord Sauron see us. However, Frank takes it and does a rhyme to find Munroe, and his player IRL gets like a NAT 20 so he see’s exactly where Munroe is; he has an subterranean secret base under the harbor district.

The Seeing Stone is put into a case and covered, Belladonna asks for it back but the elves say that it belongs to the elves and also it’s evil. She threatens to steal it and the party tells her to calm down.

Also we all forgot Grypho was there the whole time.

Two legendary elves, Elladan and Elrohir burst into the University and state that the shard they had was stolen and they need help. They take Larkspur since she knows her way around Mirkwood. And now she has her own side quest going on. All three of them Naruto run to Mirkwood.

Rocks tries to ask any of the scholars if they are going to help them get Munroe since they are now minus an elf, but because I IRL used the term ‘college nerd’ which was counted as saying in-game so the Male Elf Scholar feels insulted.

Male Elf Scholar: Oh? You’re calling me a nerd?! Didn’t I see you holding a sign outside of an inn a few weeks ago? *leaves the room in a huff* (Rocks had to learn Trader Savvy during the Fellowship phase so they worked in their families inn as customer service basically.)

So the main party starts towards the Barrelers territory. They pass Rocks families inn, but one of their moms, Daralis, see’s them and Rocks tries to rush them past but Daralis greets them anyways. They say their in a hurry, and continue after Rocks, being a terrible liar, is shushed by Erindur after they almost let is slip they are looking for shards.

So they talk to the Barrellers but they will only take two people to see their leaders. Rocks, the only one with proficiency in traditions and can roll for advantage with charisma, decided to take Frank because he is human.

They are taken to a warehouse with basically a maze, Frank tries to mark their way with this chalk he brought. But one of the barreler grunts sees him doing this.

Grunt: *takes the chalk from Frank* You can have this back when you leave!

(We make a bunch of school teacher jokes at this)

We see the Big Boss of the Barrellers and he’s this huge dude, like 6′5 and throwing full barrels with his bare hands and also no shirt. He and Frank are seemingly very similar.

Rocks is like ‘Hey I’m a Halfling Herald and this is a Human Warrior, we’re after Munroe, you in?’ and the Big Boss is in. The problem is he wants to talk about how he feels like his gang is doing all the work so he wants a 70-30 split instead of 50-50 with the Barellers taking the lions share.

Rocks gets a nat 20 from advantage, and since they can double the proficiency bonus of persuasion they end up with a 30, so they get the Big Boss to agree to 50-50, so his gang will cause a riot/distraction while we sneak in and get Munroe

Frank gives the guy a map leading to Munroes base, and also makes a monologue about how indiscriminate and destructive fire is. However, this triggers the big boss because Smaugs attack was a mere seven years ago.

Rocks and Frank leave, but Frank hangs back a little because he’s planning something, no one knows what though.

Session ends for us but LARKSPUR IS HAVING AN ADVENTURE ALSO

In her sidequest they make it to Mirkwood and Naruto run through the trees but they find a group being attacked by orcs. They save the group, but Elladan falls through the leaves onto his ass and Larkspur calls up “Are you okay?” Normally a three-story fall would grievously disfigure a man if it didn’t outright kill him but because of elven bullshit magic he’s totally fine, just stunned.

A bunch of bats show up and attack the trio so they have to kill all of them (the bats are Saurons remote control drones eyes and ears) One of the bats turns into an attractive woman / vampire.

They defeat the bats, Larkspur gets a shit ton of experiance and their session ends. Of of the BAMF elves decides to write her a poem.

#dnd #dungeons and dragons #adventures in middle earth #lotr #lord of the rings #hobbit #human #elves #dwarves #elf #dwarf #halfling

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fftwister · 5 years

Text

Byleth/Claude C-S Support (Plus Final Dialogue?)

Mostly putting this here and organizing it so I don’t have to search through the zip file and to clear up what Claude’s deal is. Major spoilers regarding what Claude’s deal is (along with the GD ending and to an extent Byleth’s deal) below. Be wary, this gets fucking long.

C Support

Claude: Hey, Teach. I see you're as stony-faced as usual. Hmm. I can't tell if you're feeling resigned or if you're just lost in thought. Or maybe you simply don't care about anything that's going on. Oh... Sorry. I really didn't mean to be rude. I just find you fascinating. Actually, there's something I'd like to talk to you about. Can you spare some time? Dialogue Tree:

A: Sure. B: I'm busy. Claude: (A) That's just the sort of attitude I'd expect from a new teacher! (B) Is that right? Maybe this is news to you, but teachers are supposed to display an active interest in the well-being of their students. Students...like me. Speaking of, before you came here, you were a mercenary, right? Always getting your hands dirty on the battlefield and whatnot? It's a bit unusual that you suddenly decided to become a teacher one day. In any case, I've been meaning to ask. Did your father teach you how to fight? Dialogue Tree:

A: Yes, he did. B: No, he didn't. Claude: (A) I figured. Your father used to lead the knights, didn't he? And I hear he was a legendary mercenary as well. (B) Is that so? Well, I'm sure you grew up watching his fighting style, even if he didn't teach you directly. It must have been hard on your mother when you followed in your father's footsteps and became\na mercenary too. Byleth: I never knew my mother. Claude: I see. I suppose you grew up moving from battlefield to battlefield with your father then. You know, for someone who's right around the same age as me, you certainly have an unusual amount of composure. I guess it's only natural that you'd be different from young nobles who grew up in the lap of luxury. Byleth: You don't seem like a noble either. Claude: Ha! Well, even so, I am heir to House Riegan, the leading family of the Alliance. But I didn't exactly grow up in luxury like most people of noble blood. Hey, maybe that's why you and I get along so well. Folks like us should stick together. As house leader, I'll do all I can to help you out. We can start by making time for more little chats like this.

B Support

Claude: Hey, Teach! Hold on a minute, OK? I'm gonna have this cleared up in no time.

Dialogue Tree:

A: What are you doing? B: Need some help? Claude: (A) I came across a fascinating book about poisons, and so I wanted to try mixing one up myself. (B): Nah, that's OK. I'll be finished soon. I'm just in the middle of mixing up a new poison. Aaand...done! What do you think of that, Teach? A colorless, odorless poison! Say...care to test it out for me?

Dialogue Tree:

A: Sure. B: What does it do? Claude: (A) Whoa, really?! Heh, actually, I was just kidding. If you drink this, in two days' time you'll have terrible, um...let's call it stomach trouble. (B): In two days' time you'll have a terrible case of...let's call it stomach trouble. It's a peaceful poison, so you'll live, but you'll certainly be inconvenienced. I hear your silent question, Teach. Why the delay? That's so it can be used even if you don't have access to the target when you need the poison to take effect. Um, naturally, I have no immediate plans for this stuff! I suppose I just felt like broadening\nthe ol' horizons a bit. When devising schemes, it's best to have as many options at your disposal as possible. Expanding those options is kind of a hobby for me. Byleth: Why such a dangerous hobby? Claude: Well, I grew up in an environment where it was necessary to think that way. It's like I told you before, I wasn't born into a life of luxury.

Ever since I was a child, I've always been seen as...different from those around me. An outsider of sorts. I've been resented and hated. There have even been attempts on my life. I don't believe I've earned such treatment, but that's how it goes for people like me. Byleth: I don't think of you as an outsider. Claude: Thanks, Teach. You know, in many ways I'm just a normal person like everyone else. But in the right environment, anyone could be seen as an outsider. It can become...overwhelming. That's why I kept running. Kept fighting. As a kid I spent a lot of time licking my wounds and coming up with schemes, trying to keep my nose out of trouble while plotting against my enemies. My parents always told me I wouldn't grow stronger if I didn't learn to fight my own battles. And so, in the end, I did. And I grew up to be as independent and self-reliant as my parents always wished for me to be. Lucky me, right? Dialogue Tree:

A: You've been through a lot. B: You grew up well. Claude: If anyone knows what I'm talking about, it must be you. Eh, Teach? I get the feeling you know what it's like to be an outsider. The moment I first laid eyes on you, I knew you weren't like everyone else. People don't care for folks like that... You'd do well to watch your back. On the bright side, that's also part of the reason that I find you so interesting.

A Support

Claude: Hey, Teach. Do you believe in gods? I don't necessarily mean the goddess of the Seiros religion. Just...gods in general. Do you believe that incredible beings who control\nthe fates of all really exist?

Dialogue Tree:

A: I do. B: I do not. Claude: (A) Huh. That's not the answer I was expecting. Though, honestly, I've recently become a bit\nof a believer myself. (B): Yeah, I didn't think so. I never used to believe in that sort of thing either. I've always hated the idea of praying to a god. After all, you can only really rely on yourself. I still believe that. You can't win a war by leaving your fate in the hands of a god. Only tangible facts can really decide a war. Which side has the most troops, the best tactics, the better organization and planning. Of course, miracles can happen. And by that, I mean things that are completely outside of your control. Things that only seem to add up if you believe in the concept of fate... Things like...well, like meeting you, for example. Byleth: What do you mean? Claude: You just seem sort of...impossible. I think everyone would agree with that. You can wield the Sword of the Creator, you're a tactical genius, and you have this strange ability to earn the trust of anyone you cross paths with. Before I met you, I never imagined that it was possible for someone like you to exist. And yet, now that I know you, your presence in my life has quickly become invaluable. In fact, it's hard to imagine making my dreams come true without your help. Because of that, I can't believe for a second that our meeting was just a coincidence. That means it mus have been fate. Maybe it was a miracle. Or maybe some god empathized with me and my dreams. Byleth: Some god? Claude: Again, I don't mean the goddess of Fódlan. Though... I suppose it may be hard for you to grasp what I'm talking about. People all over the world have different ideas about who or what the gods are, right? Even in distant lands across the ocean or over the mountains... They have gods who see the world as a whole, who don't care about Fódlan's borders... Who don't meddle in our affairs. Who don't grant life or take it away. And maybe, sometimes, they'll make a miracle happen. A god like that... That's the sort of god I think I could believe in.

Dialogue Tree:

A: I don't understand. B: I think I understand. Claude: (A) Well, it doesn't really matter. Maybe gods like that only exist in my own head. (B) Careful, Teach! You'll anger the followers of Seiros if you say things like that. I'm just speaking my mind, that's all. I think people should be free to believe in whatever gods they want. If a person believes in a god and that god becomes\na support system for them, that's a good thing. That's what a god should be. Anyway... Maybe I've overstepped a bit. Dialogue Tree:

A: It doesn't matter. B: You have. Claude: (A) I knew you'd understand. (B): Sheesh, no need to take offense! I just thought you might understand how I feel. In any case, let's keep this conversation between the two of us, yeah?

S Support

Claude: Oh, hey there. What are you doing up at this hour? Dialogue Tree:

A: I couldn't sleep. B: I could ask you the same question. Claude: (A) Is that right? I guess the more you have to think about, the harder it is to fall asleep. (B) My brain's just...busy. Thoughts keep going around and around in there, and meanwhile my eyes are wide open. At times like this, I like to gaze up at the stars to clear my head. I've been that way since I was a kid. Looking up at the big, starry sky makes my dreams feel small...which makes it feel like I can actually make them come true. I didn't believe in gods when I was a kid. Maybe that's because the night sky took their place for me. Hey, Teach... Will you talk with me a while? I bet you've figured this out, but I wasn't born in Fódlan. Where I come from, the people of Fódlan are looked down on as cowards. Technically, that cowardice runs in my veins. On my mother's side, anyway. That's why the people who were around me when I was growing up thought of me as an outsider. But I don't believe the people of Fódlan are cowards. That kind of perspective is just based on ignorance. The person from Fódlan who I know best is my mother. She fell in love with a man from the wrong side of the border and had the guts to leave home to pursue that love. I always threw that in the faces of anyone who tried to make a fool of me. My mother is proof the people of Fódlan aren't all cowards. Just saying that doesn't achieve anything, though.\nI need to destroy the prejudices that have taken root in my homeland. That's why I came here, to see Fódlan with my own eyes. I thought I might be able to find a new perspective that could help me change things. And what did I find? That the people here view anyone who's an outsider as a beast of sorts. I was shocked. Even though our cultures and beliefs are completely different, our two lands have that much in common. That's when I realized the only way to change things is to bring the whole world together and start anew. That's the dream I've been working toward since I first entered the Officers Academy five years ago. To unify the Alliance, and then all of Fódlan, and to bring a new set of values to this new land of mine... After that, I'd expand that vision to the rest of the world. Break down the walls and let a new perspective come rushing in! Start all over! Do you think that's just a crazy pipe dream? Or a brilliant ambition? Dialogue Tree:

A: Can you make that pipe dream come true? B: Can you rise to the challenge of that ambition? Claude: Not too long ago, I would have said that it was too much for me to accomplish on my own. But that's not how I feel anymore. And that's because I have you on my side now. Lately, I've spent a lot of time thinking about how I wouldn't have made it this far without you. You and me, Teach. We can go anywhere. Do anything. I hope that you always walk in step with me... At least until the day comes when we can look out at the peaceful world we've built. Together.

Final Dialogue(?) - S-Supported

Claude: Sorry for calling you out here like this. I wanted to talk, just the two of us. First of all, I wanted to say thank you for all your hard work. It seems like our long struggle may finally be coming to an end. Byleth: Do you think it's really the end? Claude: The way forward will certainly be rough. Right now, Fódlan is like a newborn. Frail and easily upset. If we don't create a new ruling system soon, the Empire and Kingdom will descend into chaos. The coronation ceremony is the first step. Only then will Fódlan truly be a single, united land. I'm sorry that I won't be by your side at such an important event, but I'm certain you'll do great. Byleth: You won't be there?! Claude: I must return to my homeland. As for ruling this new, unified land... Well, I'll leave that to you. ... The Fódlan blood that flows in my veins... I've made use of it as best I could. Now I've got to use my other bloodline to change my homeland for the better. I have royal connections there too, insignificant as they may be. It's time for me to struggle all over again and see what good I can do. If I don't change things in both Fódlan and the lands beyond, I'll never set eyes on the kind of world I've dreamed of creating. Byleth: I can't be a ruler. Claude: You're the successor Rhea appointed, aren't you? And now you're also the hero who saved Fódlan. All those weak people who have nothing to cling to but their goddess... They'll rely on you just like they used to rely on Rhea. You'll be a leader all who are struggling to survive in war-torn lands can look up to. And I...I want a ruler who can lay down a new set of values for the people. Values that don't exclude anyone for being different. I know it's a lot to ask. But you're the only one who can do it. ... I have something else to ask. Please... I hope you'll accept this. When I first saw you wield the Sword of the Creator, I wanted to use your power to my advantage. I wanted to use you to make my dream of a new world come true. But before long, I realized what I really wanted was to see that new world...with you by my side. I still feel that way, you know. I always will. That's why I have to leave. But nothing will stop me from coming back. There's no way I'm gonna let you go. You know that, don't you? Thank you... For everything. I'll be back before you know it. We'll only be apart for a short while. And now... I'm off to cross Fódlan's Throat. I love you. With everything I am. And the next time we see each other...it will be at the dawn of a whole new world. A peaceful, happy world.

#fire emblem #fire emblem three houses #fe16 spoilers #fe3h spoilers #for those with the zip file this group of text files starts with one labelled:#006116103776_00016c8c5660 #long post

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welcometophu · 5 years

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Into the Split: Avalanche 4

Twinned Book 3: Into the Split

Avalanche 4

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It’s not hot out, but it’s definitely warmer than it has been the last few days. Nikolai feels the chill in the air, but the sun warms him, and when he asks if there’s a lake nearby, Alaric is more than happy to take him there.

Alaric leads the way as a hound, padding along a path with his nose to the ground. Nikolai walks hand in hand with Seth, fingers tangled and relaxed. They have towels—actual towels—looped over their arms, along with shorts they were given specifically to use as swim trunks. It seems like a complete luxury to be able to plan to swim and not be doing it in order to wash their underwear.

“We have showers,” Nikita points out. She and Heather trail slightly behind, with Nikita wrapped in a thick, heavy wool jacket, and Heather still wearing a hat and mittens. “We don’t need to go bathe in the lake.”

“Alaric said it’s a swimming hole,” Seth counters, nudging his glasses up his nose. “And the point isn’t bathing. Although yes, a day warm enough to submerge in a lake was always good when we were on the road. You interrupted our last one.”

Nikolai squeezes his hand. “There aren’t always a lot of things I look back on happily from the last few years, but getting a chance to swim is one of them. It’ll be cold, but it’ll be worth it.”

Alaric barks sharply and takes off running. The rush of water sounds in the distance, and Nikolai guesses that the path leads directly there. There’s no real risk of getting lost at this point.

Nikita wraps her arms around her middle. “I still think you’re nuts.”

“You said you want to know more about the life you’ve been dreaming,” Nikolai points out. He gestures down the path. “If you remember it, this is one of the things you were dreaming about. There’s no better way to learn about my life than to live it. Trust us, okay? It’ll be worth it,” he repeats.

She’s not convinced—he can tell by the way her nose wrinkles and her lips purse—but she and Heather still follow slowly.

The afternoon sun bears down on them as the path widens to the edge of a swimming hole. There’s a small waterfall—maybe a few feet high—emptying into it on one side, and the river ambles off on the other side. The pool itself is twice as wide as it is long, as if something dug deep long ago. Old leaves flow quickly along the far side, showing where the current runs, but the closer part of the pool lies quiet, water gently lapping at the rocky beach.

Heather strips off her mittens and shoves them into the pockets of her thick sweater. She crouches down a little away from the water, picks up a rock to look at it, then drops it before picking up another rock. She turns it around several times in her fingers, and stares out over the water.

Alaric paddles by, barking, and she waves for him to keep going.

As soon as Alaric is out of the way, she pulls her hand back, then flicks her wrist, the stone flying out and striking the water, skipping off the surface for several hops before it plunks and disappears.

She slowly straightens up, pushing her glasses up her nose. “Only seven. I’m out of practice.” She shoves her hands in her pockets as she turns. “We used to go camping a lot in the summers. My parents are both teachers, so they had summer off, and we’d hit the road as soon as schools were closed. I learned how to skip rocks, and my dad had to swim in every lake or river we saw, no matter how cold it was. He’d insist it would invigorating, and mom would laugh all afternoon when he complained later about being cold.” She grins. “So don’t mind me if I don’t go in; I’m just here to laugh when you comment on the cold because you’re too stubborn to back down.”

That is absolutely the most Heather’s said since arriving. And the first time she hasn’t tried to be a calming influence.

Seth tilts his head. “I’m beginning to think I might like you.”

“Nikita thinks you are me,” Heather counters.

“Teach me how to do that.” He gestures at the rocks, then the pool as he crouches down. “What kind of rock am I looking for?”

“Flat. Light, although sometimes the heavy ones go further if you do it just right.” Heather points, and Seth picks up the rock she indicates. “Did you change your mind about going in?”

“Because you’re teasing us? Definitely not.” Seth bites his lip as he mimics the throw Heather made; the rock flies out and kerplops in the river. “I just want to know how you do that.”

“Hey.” Nikolai touches Seth’s shoulder to get his attention, then leans down to kiss the top of his head. “Join me when you’re ready. I’m going in.”

Seth waves him off, and it feels strange to walk away. Seth’s leaning in toward where Heather crouches as well, showing him how to hold the rock. Nikita follows Nikolai to the edge of the water. She shivers dramatically as he strips down to his swim trunks.

“I still think you’re nuts,” she says.

Nikolai steps to the edge, lets the frigid water lap against his toes. It’s cold, definitely. Running water always is, and he figures this river is probably snow melt coming down from the mountains. He shudders a little at the thought of it, but he doesn’t want to give Nikita the satisfaction of proving her right, so he takes several more quick steps forward.

Which is all great, until the rocks under his feet simply disappear, and he loses his footing and slides down, submerged beneath the cold.

He comes up sputtering and shaking his head to get his hair out of his face. Alaric paddles by, splashing him, and Nikolai instinctively sends a wash of water back at him. Alaric barks and rolls over in the water, belly up for a brief moment before he paddles away again.

“How is it?” Seth calls out from where he crouches at the edge, another rock in his hand. He brings his hand back, lets the rock fly, and this one skims the water twice before dropping beneath the surface. Heather squeezes Seth’s shoulder, and even from this distance Nikolai can feel Heather’s approval and Seth’s pleasure at learning the new trick.

Nikolai drops beneath the surface again, letting himself fall down until his toes graze the rocks at the bottom. He swims into the center, then pushes past, just to the point where he can feel the beginnings of the pull of the current. He surfaces then, and pushes his hair back. “Not bad,” he calls back. “The current’s cold, and the shallow edges are cold. When you get in the center, there’s some warmth at the deepest part. Come on in, Seth!”

Seth holds up a hand. “In a minute,” he agrees, as he tries skipping another rock.

Nikolai rolls over to float on his back, arms and legs spread out, letting the warmth of the spring sun beat down on him. He closes his eyes, feels movement around him as Alaric swims. It’s easy to lose track of time like this, and when he catches himself drifting into cooler water, he turns to swim back toward shore.

Alaric has climbed out and lies on his side on the ground, panting as he relaxes in the sun. One ear twitches, and he whines slightly as he sleeps. Seth treads water in the middle of the pool. He’s still shivering, like he got in only a moment ago, and Nikolai wonders if Seth swimming closer was the current he felt.

Doesn’t matter. Nikolai’s happy to meet him there in the middle and wrap his arms around him, kissing him slowly. They linger over the kiss, and Nikolai holds Seth close when they finally part.

Seth gets a hand on top of his head and shoves him under the water.

“Oh, so that’s what we’re doing?” Nikolai asks when he surfaces. He pushes through the water, chasing Seth as they play tag, taking turns dunking eat other. They splash, and when Nikita yells from the small beach to watch out, they purposefully splash towards her and Heather instead of each other.

It’s fun, but it’s exhausting, and eventually Nikolai motions to Seth and they both swim back to the shore, slogging across mud and wet rocks once the water goes shallow.

Nikolai falls onto the towel, stretching out. Nikita tosses a second towel at him, and he uses it to wipe his face. “Thank you,” he says.

“You’re welcome,” Alaric rumbles, back to human again. “In my world, I spent a lot of time here with my twin and my best friends. Spring and fall are good for swimming, even if it’s cold.”

“Still think you’re nuts,” Nikita says.

They end up stretched out across a set of towels. Seth’s head is on Nikolai’s stomach, and Nikolai combs his fingers through Seth’s thick curls as if he can dry them by touching them. Nikita lies with her head on Alaric’s lap and her feet on Nikolai’s calves, with Heather curled in close to her.

Nikita twitches, tapping at Nikolai with her toes. “Do you ever think about what if we were real twins?” she asks.

Nikolai isn’t sure the question makes sense. “Why?” He closes his eyes, the sun making the insides of his eyelids red instead of pure darkness, so he throws an arm across his face to block it out. “We aren’t from the same world. We aren’t twins; essentially, we think we’re the same person. Right?”

“Metaphysically, I guess, yes,” Nikita agrees. “I just. Like. My sister Tammy is so much older than me, okay? She’s like Pawel’s age. She’s an adult, already graduated ages ago, and she just had a baby with her husband. She’s an adult doing way more adultier things than I am. And when I was a kid—when the Emergence happened—she already seemed like an adult then, too. I guess she’s a little younger than Pawel. She was a senior in high school when the Emergence happened, and I think he was already at PHU. But I was ten years old. She wasn’t someone I could play with. We were kind of like only children who happened to live in the same house. So I just. Sometimes since we got here I think about what if we’d grown up together. Like twins.”

“It doesn’t matter because you can’t go back in time and change it,” Seth points out practically.

“It sounds lonely,” Nikolai says at the same time. He sits up, dislodging Seth just enough that Nikolai can frame his face with his hands and lean in to press their foreheads together. Seth grins and kisses him, then rolls away, grabbing a bag he brought that probably has snacks.

“It was,” Nikita admits. “Being at PHU is like having a whole family I didn’t get while growing up.”

“We are in really different places,” Nikolai admits quietly. He takes the muffin Seth hands him, biting into the maple sweetness. “I had that family, even though Mikhail and Josef are older than me. I’ve been friends with Seth since we were really small. Before the Split happened, so probably before your Emergence happened, too. We’ve always had each other, so I never got the chance to be lonely. That’s a terrible thing for a Dreamwalker to be.”

Heather coughs and Alaric grumbles. Nikita rolls onto her side and looks out over the swimming hole.

“You were lonely enough that you punched through reality to get to me,” Nikolai says quietly.

No one says a word, but he knows that’s what they were all thinking.

He rolls to his feet, stays in a crouch, fingers drifting over the damp sand and rocks. “You don’t get to take me home to be the twin you never had,” he tells her.

It puts a whole new spin on this idea that Nikita thinks that he’ll go home with them. That Nikita wants to somehow save him by getting him out of this world.

It’s a lot less altruistic, anyway.

Alaric sits up abruptly. “Pawel’s coming,” he says.

Nikita rolls over, looks at Nikolai. “I’m not trying to kidnap you,” she whispers, as Heather drags her fingers through Nikita’s hair.

“If they mentioned swimming, they’ll be right here.” Ethan leads the way as Pawel follows. “Hey, Alaric. I figured you knew about this place.”

Alaric grumbles.

“Coming down to swim?” Seth asks. He offers the small fabric sack he holds in his hands, and Pawel takes a muffin from it while Ethan waves him off.

“Too cold,” Ethan says, crouching down next to Seth and Nikolai.

“Right?” Nikita asks.

Pawel stays standing, idly eating the muffin while looking out over the water. “It’s beautiful, isn’t it?” He pauses for another bite before adding, “We came with news.”

“What kind of news?” Alaric asks.

“There are two Technopaths in Havenhill,” Pawel says. He gestures with the muffin as he eats, directing his attention to Nikolai to explain, “A Technopath is a Talent who works with technology. At home, we have Sera, who is able to ingest technology and it becomes a part of her.”

“She eats TVs or something?” Seth asks.

“Not exactly. I’m not entirely sure how it happens, but I do know from prior conversations with her that she has managed to take in a smartphone and a printer at minimum, and that she has a permanent connection to our world’s wireless network,” Pawel says. “However, Sera is not here with us, and neither of the Technopaths of Havenhill appears to be her analog in this world.”

“We did talk to Amerika and Shamir,” Ethan says. “We were wondering if the Technopaths might still be able to connect with each other, including those outside of Havenhill. And yes, it turns out they can.”

“Amerika was quite surprised to discover that the network was still there, that she could reach out to it. Shamir was far less surprised at its existence, and he was instrumental in determining that Technopaths around the world have built their own space within the human networks,” Pawel explains. He crouches down, idly picks up a rock and turns it over in his fingers. For a moment Nikolai swears he’ll start eating it, like the muffin that’s gone now, but Pawel shifts his stance and throws the rock out, skipping it easily across the river.

“Wait.” Seth holds both hands up. “Go back. You said around the world.”

Pawel stays crouched, his elbows on his knees. “You sound surprised.”

“There’s a part of me that wondered if this was just local. Or just our country, and maybe if we went far enough north or south things would change,” Seth admits. “If this started because a Dreamwalker—”

“I didn’t start this,” Nikita interrupts.

Seth gives her a dark look. “I didn’t say you did. This started a long time before you went looking for Nikolai. My point is, Dreamwalkers create the breaks between here and where the Shadows lie, and if it’s this widespread, that’s a lot of Dreamwalkers. And a big Split.”

Nikolai isn’t surprised, not at all. It’s always felt this big. It’s always felt like the whole world was involved, and he couldn’t imagine it being any other way. He can’t imagine that there are still places out there where things are normal; it seems more reasonable to think that the Shadows are everywhere in the world.

“It’s global,” Pawel says quietly. “We know that much now, and Shamir and Amerika will learn more over time, I’m certain. They are working on creating links to other Technopaths, and to finding ways into trusted networks so that Havenhill can become a part of the outside world again.”

“Alia must love that,” Alaric mutters.

“She’s not thrilled,” Ethan admits. “Mom’s been talking to her, and if anyone can turn her around, it’s Mom. They work best together. Alia tempers Mom’s enthusiasm. Mom makes sure Alia keeps pushing our limits as a community.”

The sun drifts behind a cloud, and shadows spread across the beach. Nikolai suppresses a shiver; it’s time to get dressed if it’s going to cool off this abruptly. He reaches for his discarded clothes and starts pulling them on.

“Are you just trying to get news from elsewhere, or is there something we want this Technopath network to do?” Heather asks. “It does seem like a risk, opening news of Havenhill up like that.”

“Shamir doesn’t think the humans can get into Technopath spaces on the network,” Ethan says. “He used to work in computer security years ago, before the Split, and he said the protections in place are magical, not technological.”

Pawel rises slowly, starts walking toward the path and the treeline surrounding the beach.

“It’s getting colder; let’s go back,” Nikita says. She pushes to standing, pulls Heather up so she can lean into her, Heather’s arms wrapping around her.

The shadows seem to be closing in on them, thicker than the clouds in the sky above. Nikolai’s skin pricks, and he reaches for Seth without thinking, grateful when Seth’s fingers cling to his. “I don’t think this is—”

“Yeah,” Ethan agrees quickly. “Someone grab Pawel.”

Pawel is already halfway to the trees, where shadows seem to dart and move, twisting around the tree trunks in a way that seems sentient. Like Shadows have come within the wards, but they aren’t attacking, just staying out of reach as Pawel slowly approaches.

Alaric becomes the hound and bounds forward, knocking into Pawel’s knees. Pawel stumbles, looks down as he falls to his knees. The sky brightens and Mattie emerges from the trees as the shadows drift away in the blooming sunlight.

Nikolai still feels like his skin is too tight, like something’s going to happen.

“They can’t get in,” Mattie calls out. “But they want to.” She looks at Pawel, smiles softly. “She wants to.”

Pawel stays where he is, one hand in the sand. “We should go back,” he says.

Nikolai glances at Seth, and Seth nods. “You go back,” Nikolai says. “Seth and I want to do something before we go.”

Pawel’s expression twists sour. “We should stay with you.”

“We were fine on our own before you barged into our lives; we’ll be fine here now inside of Havenhill’s wards,” Seth insists. He waves at the path. “Go. It’ll be easier if we’re on our own.”

“Oh, it’s that kind of thing,” Nikita says cheerfully.

Alaric looks at her doubtfully, but his ears go pink. Heather laughs, the sound strained, and Ethan grabs Pawel’s arm and pulls.

“We should leave them alone,” Mattie murmurs, her voice low and sibilant. “They want privacy, and they’ll be safe here.” She looks back at them. “There’s nothing but light left around them.”

Which is exactly the point.

“You saw them, right?” Seth asks, as the others go out of sight.

“I did.” Writhing in the trees, like the remnants of that dream Nikolai shared with Nikita in Del’s dreamlands. Nikolai squeezes Seth’s hands, and he calls the brightness of dreams to wrap around them, and together they let the light sparkle and spread over the area.

This is Havenhill, and there is no way in hell that they’re letting the Shadows in.

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#welcome to phu #welcometophu #into the split #phu twinned #twinned #its avalanche

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toothsy · 5 years

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Your Name. || Katsuki Bakugo [I]

N/N : Imagine Bakugo and you being in Your Name and exchanging your bodies. Also, it will not be exactly like the movie, I decided to change it a little for the reader and it will be changed for Katsuki too, of course. Aaaaah and please tell me what you think about it and if you want me to continue this story !!

𝐖𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬 : Cursing (Katsuki being Katsuki) / Angst (some sensitive stuff) / Fluff

Aaaaaah it’s my first fanfic please have some faith on me TvT

________________

|| Katsuki’s POV

A growl escaped his lips when he heard the phone’s ring, not really noticing that it wasn’t his at first. He growled again, more louder this time and tried to reach to his phone, his eyes were still closed. He stopped when he felt the cold floor instead of his small desk next of his bed. His eyes shot opened and he gets up as fast as he can. It wasn’t his bed, it wasn’t his room. He was on a really small f/c bed touching the floor (like Mitsuha’s bed). The room was pretty big and messy. The walls were blue like the sky, there was two black furnitures, one in front of him which he guessed was a dresser, since he saw some clothes hanging from the drawers and the other had some books, mangas and figurine from some animes in it, closed by a window. There were also some beautiful paintings, some weren’t even finished yet and others hanging, a lot thrown in the big garbage too, which he kinda felt bad since they were well done.

Panic. Panic was the perfect world that could describe how he felt right now. He looked at himself. He saw two mountains on his chest, which now he understands that it wasn’t HIS chest. His, or her, body was slim and small, not muscular like Katsuki’s normal body. ‘ What the fuck ? ‘ he asked himself. He looked around the room in confusion and panic. ‘ Is it me ? No - it’s- it can’t be me. I’m a guy for god’s sake ! Then... is it a dream ? WHY THE FUCK WOULD I DREAM ABOUT BEING IN A GIRL’S BODY ?! What’s happening ?! What the -‘ he stopped himself and looked at the chest again. He had to be sure if it was a dream or not. He raises an eyebrow and his hands shakily got closer to the two bumps rising when he was breathing, then touch them. His eyes widened more, touching and squeezing them seemed real. So real. Too real. Too fucking real. He heard the door next of him opening, but didn’t bother to stop squeezing the boobs to look at the person standing with a confused look on his face. The person looked around the room and then back to her. Or him. Whatever. ´´ Huh... Sis... Y/n... breakfast is ready, mom is waiting-´´ ´´How the fuck did you call me ?!´´ Katsuki asked/yelled to the guy, which he guessed was HER brother. He seemed more confused, he closed slowly the door and mumbled ´´Huh. Let’s just. Pretend. Nothing. Happened.´´ Once the door closed, Katsuki jumped and ran to the mirror that was in the coiner of her room.

His eyes widened when he saw the beautiful girl that was in front of him. Her h/c falling on her shoulders in a messy way, her small yet kind of work out body was standing there. He was panicked. Honestly didn’t know what was happening and WHO it was. He looked closer and saw the beautiful e/c orbs blinking slowly, staring at the mirror. It was a dream right ? Then why does it seems so real ? How is he going to live in her body ? He doesn’t know anyone here ! He knows that he’ll have to go to HER school, which he didn’t know where it was, at least the guy that saw him, or her in that case, touching her boobs is probably in the same school as her so hopefully everything will goes well. What about her friends ? Does she even have friends ? He cursed under his breath, hoping this would end soon. He looked around her room and tried to find her uniform to go to her school. He’ll at least try to not make her life miserable and will try to act like her.

|| Y/n’s POV next day

You heard your annoying alarm clock, telling you that it was time to get up and a small sigh escaped your lips. Your small hand slowly reaches to it and then turn it off. You slowly remembered your dream, it was like you were in someone else’s body, a boy, but you don’t remember much from it. It wasn’t the time for it anyway, now it’s time to get up. You slowly sits on your small f/c bed then yawned, stretching your arms. You heard your door opening, your face turned slowly to B/n, your big brother, standing with crossed arms on his chest. ´´Well. You’re not touching your boobs this time.´´ he said with a bored expression before walking away while saying ´´Breakfast is ready, sleepy head.´´ Your head tilted in confusion. Touching your boobs ? Why would you do that ? It was strange, but you decided to shrug it off for now and then get up.

Walking to your closet, you opened it and found all your uniform ready for the week. Well, except one. You were washing all your uniforms Sunday to be sure to be ready for the entire week and now there was missing one. You were sure that yesterday you washed them all. You opened your phone and your eyes widened that it wasn’t yesterday anymore, but two days ago. Did you really miss a day ? What the ..? Now it was really weird. Then why don’t you remember anything ? Why can’t you remember what happened yesterday ? It was terrifying, stressing. You shake your head and then put on your uniform.

You brush your h/c hair and then tie them up. (If you have short hair, ignore it.) You walked slowly to the kitchen to join B/n and your mom. Your small feet were not making a lot of noise when they were in contact with the carpet, only a small ‘tap’ could be heard from them. A small smile appeared on your face when you saw your mother preparing breakfast. ´´Good morning.´´ you say softly while sitting on the carpet for eating, since your table was so small. You felt observed and looked at your mother, who had her e/c widened a little, not blinking and with an eyebrow raised to show her confusion. ´´Well, you are feeling well today, Y/n.´´ she says before looking back at her cooking, still being a little confused. It was your turn now to be confused as you raise an eyebrow. ´´Why wouldn’t I ?´´ you asked. Your brother looked at you and then says ´´ Well, yesterday you were really weird. You were yelling, cursing and insulting everyone around you and you didn’t even recognize your name. You were not even well dressed up, forgetting your tie and your hair were just really messed up. You even forgot where was the academia.´´

You were shocked. It wasn’t your type at all to yell or curse at someone, you were normally calm around the others and never showed your anger, so it was surprising. You were in a hero academia, you wanted to be in U.A since your idol, All Might, was teaching the students there, but you always had to follow your brother’s path sadly, so you ended up in another hero school. You never liked that academia tho, you were being bullied for being the niece of a terrible pro hero. Even tho he saved the other’s life, even you and your family’s life, he was so competitive with his brother, which was your dad, that everyone is saying that except of saving his brother he let him died just because he was in front of him in the rank. Since you had the same quirk as your uncle and your dad, everyone were saying you would end up exactly like him with your brother, which wasn’t true at all.

You sighed and get up when you finished your meal. You thanked your mom before taking your bag and getting out of your house. You walked slowly, completely in silence to your school until you heard two familiars voices, your two friends, Hanako and Katashi. Hanako was brunette with green eyes, being always excited and happy around the others. Katashi had black hair, brown eyes and a small smile on his face, completely different from your other friend, he was calm and always had that bored face on or a small smile on his lips. A smile appeared on your face and you waved at them. ´´Hey guys !´´ you said. They seemed taken aback for a moment before Hanako had a smile back and say ´´ Well ! You’re finally back to normal !´´ You frowned, remembering what B/n had told you about yesterday this morning. ´´Seriously was I that weird ? I honestly don’t remember anything from yesterday...´´ you say with a small pout.

Katashi raises his eyebrow a little, still with a bored face and ask ´´Seriously you don’t remember ?´´ You shake your head no, still being confused. He stayed silent for a moment, like he was thinking until Hanako hugged you and say ´´Anyway. Now you’re alright and that’s what is important ! Right ?´´ You sighed, but gave in and nodded. ´´Yeah you’re right.. come on. Class are starting soon.´´ You finally entered in your school. You were in a different class from Katashi but the same as Hanako. You two talked for a while until you reach your class. Suddenly, you felt pushed and your back hit the wall. ´´Huh. Look who’s here. Do you remember your name today, Y/n ?´´ There was a girl with white hair standing in front of you with a huge grin on her face. You looked at her with wide eyes until the white haired girl laughed and got in the class. Hanako reached to you and gave you a small smile, saying to not give up. You smiled back at her and then sit at the coiner of the class, where you usually sit.

´´Miss L/n I hope you’ll remember your name today because I don’t want you to disturb my class like you did yesterday...´´ The teacher said to you. You jumped and nodded immediately. You were about to ask what he meant, but remembering what everyone had told you what happened to you yesterday, you decided to shut up. It was in the past anyway. Right ? There’s nothing to worry about, huh ? You sighed. You were so confused, you should stop trying to understand, maybe there’s no sense, no answer ? Maybe it was just... there. You scratch your head, confused and then looked at the teacher when you heard him speak. ´´Today you’ll have to note...´´ You take your notes, trying to go at the end until your eyes widened. There was something written at the end of your notebook. ´´Who the fuck are you ?!´´ was written on it. You didn’t wrote it. Is it a joke ? You looked at your friend next of you and then ask, in a whisper ´´Yo why did you wrote that ?´´ she turned to you, raising an eyebrow and asked ´´Wrote what ?´´ Knowing that she wasn’t a good liar or faker, you knew that she wasn’t the one who wrote this. Then who ? Katashi and your big brother are too serious to even do a joke like this to you. So who ?

|| Skip - end of the day

You closed your math’s book with a sigh in content, your homeworks were finally over. You already took your bath so now the only thing you had to do was brushing your teeth and going to sleep. You heard footsteps next of you, hearing the more louder ‘tap’ then yours or your mother’s footsteps, you knew it was B/n. You looked at him, taking a battle of water from the fridge and closing the door again before he puts the bottle at his lips and start drinking the transparent liquid. When he finally realized that the young h/c haired girl was staring at him, he looked at you and once he finished his drink, he asked ´´What ?´´ You bite your lower lip, not sure if you should ask him or not. You sigh, what is the worst thing that could happen if you asked anyway huh ? ´´Are you the one that wrote in my notebook ?´´ You asked, hoping it would be him. It could’ve been only him or her friends, since they are the only ones that know her locker’s code. He clicked his tongue and looked around ´´Do you really think I would do that, Y/n ? You know it’s not my type.´´ She looked down and nodded. ´´Yeah, s-sorry.´´ You get up, wish good night at your mom then go to your room, closing your door behind you and then sitting on your little bed, putting your alarm clock and finally gets under your cover. After a moment, your eyes got heavy and you finally fall asleep.

|| Next Day

You whined a little when you heard your alarm clock, tho, you were a slight confused since it wasn’t the same as yours, but you thought that you just put another alarm clock accidentally, so you just stopped it without any questions. You roll over, normally you would met your floor easily since your bed is on the floor, but you felt yourself fall and your body hit hard the carpet, not your cold floor. You growled in pain and sits slowly, rubbing your eyes and opening them. They widened when you saw the room that wasn’t yours at all, you were in someone else’s room. The walls were a light grey, fitting with the carpet that was just a bit more darker then the walls. (Let me just imagining Katsuki’s room oof) The bed was way more big and wasn’t on the floor like her. At the end of the bed was a black TV with a PS4 and Xbox one and then tons of games next of it. There was next of you a dark brown desk with a black and red gaming chair and a computer on the desk.

Panic. Panic was the correct word to tell exactly how you were feeling right now. Now, was the time that you checked yourself, your eyes looked at your body and jumped a little when you saw a muscular body, arms and legs, no boobs, so it was a boy’s body. It was weird. It was strange. Were you dreaming ? Was it all a stupid dream of yours ? Why would you dream of being in a boy’s body ? You gulped and then you saw something that had never been there before. A bump in your pants. Wait - your eyes widened. Your big hand shakily reach to the bump and press slowly into it, you jumped back, feeling the weird feeling and your cheeks were becoming red as you put your hand away from it in embarrassment. Suddenly, the door next of you opened wide, showing a woman with blond spikey hair with red orbs.

´´KATSUKI YOU IDIOT GET UP- oh. You’re already awake.´´ she looked around the room and looked back at the boy before yelling ´´THE BREAKFAST IS READY YOU EXPLOSIVE PUNK SO DON’T LOSE YOUR TIME !´´ before closing the door hard again. You looked around the room again. Oh dear god. How were you supposed to be in the boy’s life when you don’t even know him ? You bite your lower lip and get up, walking to the mirror and jumped when you saw the pretty boy in the mirror. He had blond, spikey short hair, red orbs, like his mother and was muscular as heck. The T-shirt he, or you, had on was black with a white school, which was pretty simple. You gulped and looked at what seemed like his closet before walking to it and opening it.

The grey and green uniform appeared, you were lucky to find it so soon. Now you had to find his academia, wait... this color... wait ! He’s in U.A high ! Your eyes widened and a smile appeared on your face as your hands reached on the grey uniform and you already put it on, making sure everything was fine. You walked outside of the room and followed the good scent until you reached the kitchen. The blond woman was there cooking, which you assumed was his mother and a brown haired man, which you also assumed was his father. He waved and say ´´I gotta go to work. Have a good day !´´ he says with a soft tone. His parents were so different ! How is this even possible ?! You sit and then the blond woman put the plate in front of him.

You start eating and his mother smiled and say ´´Well, you grumpy boy, when are you going to talk about U.A huh ? You never say anything about it to us.´´ Grumpy Boy ? U.A ? Talk to them ? How were you suppose to answer this when you didn’t even get there yet ?! You gulped, your mouth opening a bit before his mother looked at the clock and say ´´Huh, never mind. It’s time to go.´´ She pushes you out of the door and waved. ´´BE KIND WITH THE OTHERS IDIOT !´´ she yelled. You gulped and then looked around. Even tho you weren’t in U.A, you knew exactly how to go there since you were so passionate about this school when you were younger. You were so excited, you takes a big breath and start walking to the academia. While you walked, what was bothering you was how much his hands were sweating. It was annoying. You looked at your hands, well, his hands and then thought ´I wonder what is his quirk...’ you looked around and point the ground with his hand, activating his quirk, you got startled when short explosions got out of his hand. Now, you understand why his mother was calling you explosive punk

You walked until you finally see the familiar school, U.A high. You suddenly felt a arm around your neck and freezed until you saw a red haired boy with weird hair. ´´Hey Bakugo ! You did really good yesterday dude ! What you did was so manly !´´ You gulped, not knowing what the heck he was talking about. ´´Huh. Who are you ?´´ you asked, he laughed and started to walk. ´´HAH ! Come on, classes are starting soon.´´ She gulped again. How is she going to survive in his life ? Knowing that U.A got attacked a lot recently by the villains was not reassuring you either. Were you going to make it ?

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