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forasecondtherewedwon · 7 months

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remember it once - final chapter

Fandom: The Artful Dodger Pairing: Jack x Belle Rating: E Chapter: 7 / 7 Word Count: 4812

For today's @dodgerfoxweek prompt: happy endings/escape

Belle’s free to be with him at the hospital as much as she likes now, and Jack’s free to feel all the strong emotions resulting from her being there. Never did he imagine that he would share his profession with his wife (never did he imagine marriage). He loves that he need only turn his head to find her elsewhere in the ward or to spot her through the windows in the doors. He worries, constantly, that she is at risk. He swallows the more uncomfortable fear that she is putting others at risk by being here.

She will be different from the others, those people he treated but could not save. Jack won’t allow it to be otherwise. In the days after Belle was bitten, he monitored the site of her injury. It could be that her diet is what keeps her well—the Governor’s daughter eats better and more often than a child like Alexander did—or that previous exposure, either in London or on the ship back, protects her. Jack doesn’t know whether the disease can be passed through the air. There isn’t time to study factors surrounding transmission, only to manage the effects on the people who come into the hospital. Unlike Prof, at least he orders the windows open to promote circulation of the air.

The possibility that Belle simply doesn’t share the affliction that brings most of Jack’s patients to his ward grows less likely. It’s been six weeks since Al’s death, two since the wedding, when Jack’s denial finally parts like curtains to show him a view of his wife that he’s stubbornly refused to see.

She’s working in the morgue. Once they discovered that the death of people with this particular illness wasn’t exactly binding, they stopped keeping the bodies at the hospital before burial. The room is now a place where Belle likes to conduct her research. Previously, Jack has entered to find her pacing the floor while she mutters to herself, or mixing solutions as she glances rapidly at an open volume on the table where they used to perform autopsies. Today, she sits beneath the window, gaze unfocused.

“Belle?”

“Hmm?”

Jack frowns and moves closer. Confused. It’s the word Charlie used to describe Al, the word Belle used in her story of the man on the ship. There’s some kind of mental decline that accompanies the decay of flesh, and it doesn’t begin with the aggression and physical violence that come immediately before an attack. If a patient can be watched closely, Jack believes, the signs of confusion can possibly be detected at an earlier stage. When one is willing to recognize them.

“Are you alright?” he asks his wife.

He crouches before her and quietly sighs in relief when her gaze sharpens and lifts to his face.

“Yes,” she says. “Yes, of course. I was only thinking.”

“What were you thinking?”

“The child, Anthony—”

“The one who keeps escaping the ward?”

It’s a serious issue, but Jack can’t help his smile. Anthony was bitten by his father and has run to Sneed’s ward in search of him, dodging hospital staff three times. Where the father’s condition is such that a visit with his son would be extremely unwise, Anthony’s is significantly milder; his injury has visibly neither improved nor worsened under Jack’s care. Jack has fledgling ideas as to why this might be—could their biological connection be sparing the child more severe effects? Could the bite be shallower because the father was able to recognize, on some level, the identity of his victim even in the midst of the aggressive haze?

“Exactly.” Belle smiles too. Jack catches the way her hands smooth over her stomach before she folds them in her lap. “Physical activity. Perhaps all Anthony’s escaping is inhibiting the necrosis.”

“It has developed faster in our bedridden patients,” Jack notes thoughtfully.

“If we could have them move around more…”

“How though? That won’t exactly work in concert with our current protocol of strapping them to their beds.”

“Which is rather inhumane. Necessary,” she asserts when Jack opens his mouth to speak. “I know. But inhumane.”

At what point though, Jack wonders, do they acknowledge that these people—these strangers and neighbours, fathers and sons, wives—are suffering from something that is making them inhuman? When they turn on their fellow man? When they rise from the dead? Since meeting Belle, Jack has been locked in a negotiation of how much weight to give life and death. He insists on the harshest realities while she persists in an optimism he’s found more natural to give in to, though which is still not his first impulse.

“It’s a good thought,” he says. “The activity. I don’t know how it will work, yet, but I agree with your thought.”

And he does, and he’s grateful to her for continuing to devise theories when he feels stuck on facts. He smiles at her. She’s done this from the beginning, hasn’t she? Reminded him again and again that there is always another way, that new ways are constantly being discovered, that they can themselves be the innovators by counterintuitively accepting that they don’t yet have the answer to a problem. That’s all this is: a problem. A terrifying, horrific one, but as long as they remain focused…

“What is it?” Jack asks, because Belle’s returned to staring at nothing in particular.

“A thought.”

“Have you already solved it? More fair if you’d at least let me try before you just came up with the answer.”

Belle frowns.

“The answer to what?” she wonders.

“How to allow our patients more physical ac—”

“Physical activity!” she bursts out, brightening. “Exactly! Jack, you know the child, Anthony…”

He nods, but his heart isn’t in it; it’s a function of his body alone. Yes, he knows the child, Anthony. The one Belle mentioned just a minute ago. The one she mentions now as though she didn’t then, presenting him with the same idea he’s just heard.

“I’ll… I’ll leave you to your thoughts,” Jack offers, rising.

Numbly, he exits the morgue. If she were anyone but his wife, anyone he knew had been attacked and personally witnessed them displaying memory troubles, he would go straight to the ward for reinforcements, find her a bed, continue to treat her wound while privately accepting that he was watching a decline from which he’d yet to see a patient recover. But he can only step into the hallway and bury his face in his hands.

He’s been a fool, thinking it could last.

—

The next blow doesn’t so much nudge them—the hospital, the colony, Jack’s stoic equilibrium—gently across a delicate tipping point as shove them out a second-storey window.

Sneed is bitten.

He does something Jack wouldn’t have anticipated: he begs for amputation. The only bright side is that Jack gets to slap him across the face to stop him panicking in front of the patients. After that, he drags the man out of the ward and stares at him with exasperation.

“Are you mad?” Jack demands. “I need you here, damn you!”

It’s worrying that Sneed doesn’t preen at the words, or seem to hardly notice them.

“Only my foot, Dawkins,” Sneed insists with wide eyes, both frightened and frightening.

“Well, yes, if we’re ranking the extremities it would be least inconvenient, as a surgeon, to lose, the foot’s not bad. It’s not a hand. But I do not have time to wait for you to recover from an amputation!”

“If we do it quickly though—immediately—now—before the disease can spread… I know you won’t make a pig’s ear of it, Dawkins.” Sneed swallows. “I trust you.”

“You certainly weren’t in favour of amputation when Fagin shot you in the leg. Have you forgotten the bit where I would be putting a large blade to your skin and sawing like the dickens?” Jack mimes the operation.

This, at last, appears to penetrate Sneed’s skull.

“I… can bear it. I am the finest surgeon in the—” Jack gives him a look and Sneed amends, “I am the second-finest surgeon in the colony. I will endure the pain.”

“Are you certain? Because you did yelp rather loudly when I slapped you in the ward.”

Sneed doesn’t grace this remark with a response. Jack sighs.

“If it’s what you want, I’ll do it. You know I can’t promise it’ll save you, and that I must impress upon you that you are here to heal others. This hospital cannot afford to lose a surgeon. Not now. The wards are full, as are the graveyards. We’re exhausted, and one less surgeon would increase the strain. But I’ll do it,” he repeats.

Jack watches Sneed’s jaw clench before he nods, making up his mind.

“I’ll clean the wound and get back to work.”

Jack deflates, relieved, not having realized how tensely he was holding himself at the thought of carrying on with Belle already inhibited, and then without Sneed. They’ve been losing nurses as well—the staff who interact with the patients most. Jack is endlessly thankful that Hetty has never once walked into a ward without her wits about her.

He claps Sneed on the shoulder in thanks and they exchange a look. How much is Jack asking him to give up by talking him out of the surgery? His health? His life? Likely both, if Jack examines it too closely, but he sees the weary comprehension in Sneed’s eyes and believes he would have stopped the surgery as he did the last time, when a drunken Prof stuffed a wooden rod between his teeth and told him to bite down.

Sneed glances down and Jack follows his gaze as he lifts his foot.

“Bloody woman bit straight through my boot.”

“Wound shouldn’t be too deep,” Jack reasons. “It’s given you some protection.”

“Sod protection. I brought these from Oxfordshire.”

“Sneed, you make it very hard to tell how quickly your disease is progressing.”

“What do you mean by that?” Sneed retorts.

“It’s just that so much of what you say smacks of severe cognitive damage.”

This time, it’s Sneed who slaps Jack. He’s rubbing at the sting, disgruntled but willing to admit the justice of the act, when Hetty comes marching towards them.

“Whenever you’re both ready to be doctors again, gentlemen, the rest of us would appreciate your assistance.”

“It’s Sneed’s fault,” Jack feels compelled to say, even if it does come out sounding petulant. “Values his boots above his life.”

“Remind me, what is your position at this hospital?” Hetty asks archly.

“Head Surgeon.”

“Then I would suggest acting like it.” She turns and heads back into the ward, calling over her shoulder, “Or I’m telling your wife!”

Jack looks to Sneed—wrongly, but it’s an impulse—for commiseration, only to find the prat smirking at him.

“Tattled on to your wife,” he taunts.

“At least I’ve got a wife,” Jack snips back. “Back to work before I put you out on your ear.”

“You wouldn’t. You need me.”

Damn. So he did register that after all.

—

The day Belle tells him she’s carrying his child is the same day Jack meets with Governor Fox and the new Gaines to discuss barricading the hospital. To keep them out or us in? he doesn’t ask, because it doesn’t matter, because the danger is within and without, because Jack has Fagin watching Belle to make sure she doesn’t wander into a ward during one of her distracted periods. There’s far too much on his mind and he finds himself agreeing with the proposal.

“Perhaps if I had rerouted the drainage when Jane suggested… noxious vapours…” the Governor says vaguely. Jack pats his arm.

There isn’t much use in thinking backwards. He nods, knowing his approval isn’t really needed, that his disapproval wouldn’t have stopped the military doing as they please. He nods because it feels like control, even as he’s agreeing to a decision that Belle, in a healthier state, would berate him for, reminding him of the inhumanity already inflicted upon their patients by tethering them down where they lie. What’s another barrier between these people and their freedom when the worse barrier is the one the disease has been erecting in their minds, dividing men, women, and children from themselves?

It’s as if Jack sleepwalks to tell Hetty the news. He knows he can count on her to be measured in her response, outraged yet taking it in stride, because it’s what must be done. There are too many cases of the disease. Barring the hospital’s doors means some people who seek treatment will go without, but it will protect the safety of those inside—patients and staff. Jack’s heard terrible things; in a combined effort, Flashbang and Aputi have taken to blasting to bits any corpse that begins to reanimate. It’s horrendous—both physically and morally disgusting—but Aputi told Jack he saw one of them in the graveyard, saw from a distance as it found… well, a piece of what remained after you threw explosives into a shallow pit of dead bodies. They aren’t just biting anymore. At least not with their fellow dead. They’re consuming.

He's preparing himself to let Hetty know they’re about to cross an invisible boundary, beyond which he won’t blame her if she leaves. Unlike Sneed, Hetty’s always been important to him. Unlike Sneed, Hetty hasn’t been bitten.

Jack makes sure she sees him coming when he approaches her in the ward. They go to the office that became his when Prof retired.

“I’m going to be a father,” is what comes out of his mouth.

“Oh,” Hetty says.

It’s a kinder response than it might’ve been, considering even Jack finds it difficult not to immediately add, Of course, I know we’re doomed, or to defend himself, swear that it didn’t just happen, because sex has hardly been a priority, and since Belle was attacked, she’s slept in a different bedroom, locked herself in. The way he looks at Hetty begs, Help me.

Gently, she says, “You’d better hurry up and find a cure then.”

“I don’t even know where to begin.”

“That’s because you’re exhausted. We all are.”

Jack shakes his head.

“It’s because concocting solutions is very much my wife’s forte. Whereas mine is…”

When nothing comes to him, Hetty supplies, “Keeping this hospital running. Barely,” she adds with a smile, “but running. Thank goodness we don’t have Prof underfoot.”

“He’d have been bitten the first day,” Jack has to agree. “Definitely for the best that he decided to wait it all out from the comfort of his libations cabinet. I mean, his home. Speaking of… you could as well.”

“Join Prof in a tipple?”

He knows she’s joking, and he humours her with a slight smile.

“Leave,” he says. “While you can. The military are going to barricade the hospital. Soon.”

And then Jack explains all the reasons why he went along with it while Hetty, rightfully, looks at him furiously.

Finally, she says, “I suppose you didn’t have a choice.”

“No.”

“And you want me to leave? Your best nurse? The most competent person in this hospital?”

“I don’t want you to leave, I want you to live,” Jack clarifies desperately. “Like Tim. He and Red—”

“No one’s heard from Red and Tim in days,” Hetty reminds him.

“They were smart. I’m sure they went to the bush, away from town. But you could leave another way. This is a port. Get aboard a ship!”

“And you?”

He hangs his head, avoiding Hetty’s gaze.

“Belle couldn’t go. When she worsens, she’ll be a danger to others.”

Hetty doesn’t argue.

—

They have dinner at Jack and Belle’s house, as a family. He still finds it incredibly strange to be hosting the Governor, to see Lady Fox and Fagin seated at the same table—a table that belongs to Jack, of all people. Sturdy and unscuffed. Never been anyone’s but his.

After Jack made the announcement to the rest of his staff, Sneed practically forced him and Belle out, stating that they needed a normal night. Possibly their last for quite a while.

His wife is at the table too, and he watches her parents and sister look at her in a way he knows she probably notices, even if she’s not saying anything about it. They know about her condition—both of her conditions—and regard her with expressions of mixed wariness and concern.

“How does Dr. Sneed fare?” Fanny pipes up during a lull in conversation.

“Well,” Jack is able to tell her honestly. “He was very fortunate to have had a barrier between the patient and his skin—”

“He was bitten through his clothes?” she asks, eyes lit up and speech a bit breathless. Jack stomachs the reaction with difficulty.

“Through his boot.”

“The bite was very nearly just a graze,” Belle contributes, “except that the woman who bit him had rather sharply tapered incisors, which were able to—”

“Yes!” Fanny says shrilly, smiling too hard. “Enough!” She dismisses the topic with an anxious flutter of her hands before apparently remembering some of her manners. More composed, she adds, “Please tell Dr. Sneed I wish him a swift recovery.”

Jack and Belle share an unsettled look.

“I am certain they will, darling,” Lady Fox assures her daughter.

Jack cares for his new sister, but he doesn’t believe in diminishing the severity of the outbreak in order to soothe her nerves. Spending so much time in the hospital, he’s forgotten to account for the fact that those who haven’t don’t know what he, Belle, Hetty, Sneed, and the others in the wards do. They might know people are dying, but not how many. They might understand that the hospital is attempting to treat people, but not that they don’t have a single recovered patient to show for their efforts. He’s trying to think of a tactful way to explain this when his wife jumps in.

“Actually, that isn’t likely, Fanny,” Belle says. “Dr. Sneed may not be seriously hampered by the disease for some time, but he will sicken, and he will die, like all the rest.”

“Belle,” Jack says, terribly soft.

“Like me,” she continues.

Total silence follows her words, until Fanny bursts into tears.

“That’s not very helpful,” Belle comments.

“Forgive my wife,” Jack says, hating to treat her as someone for whom he must take responsibility, but feeling compelled in the wake of her sister’s distraught response. “She’s not herself.”

“My husband is correct,” Belle tells their assembled family. “And I will be even less myself as the disease progresses. Without a cure, I doubt…”

Her bravado fails her. Jack sees her slip a hand off the table to touch her stomach. With her dressed, the curve is imperceptible, but he’s seen it uncovered. He’s sure she was about to say she doubts she’ll live long enough for the baby to be born. His throat tightens.

“We need to redirect our efforts, that’s all,” Jack says, fighting back tears. “Devote all our energy to finding a cure, as you say.”

“How?” Belle’s eyes are desperate, locked on his as they ignore the rest of the room. “You hardly leave the ward, and I need help. I don’t… trust myself. In the meantime, more people are contracting this disease.”

“I’ve heard rumours,” Fagin says, and they turn to stare at him. “Someone’s hired a ship. Standin’ in the ’arbour even now, she is.”

“How is this relevant?” Jack demands.

“Because it’s them who did it.” He’s carried on eating during the conversation, the picture of ease, and now he gestures to Governor and Lady Fox with his fork. “Getaway ship, I heard.”

“Getaway ship?” Belle echoes, turning on her parents.

The Governor starts to babble, but Lady Fox gets right to the point: “Yes. Our family is leaving the colony.”

“You can’t put Belle on a ship,” Jack says. “She has the disease.”

“Yes, and she’ll have you there to treat her.”

His mind stumbles over the fact that Lady Fox apparently includes him in her notion of family. He recovers.

“What, both of us leave?” he checks, baffled.

“I am sure Dr. Sneed is perfectly capable of taking care of things at the hospital.”

“No, he’s not,” Jack says. His voice is rising without his permission. “I don’t even mean to deride Sneed, but if there’s one thing he isn’t, it’s capable. And it’s not his bloody fault! The man’s injured, soon to fall ill, and it’s becoming mad out there.”

“Which is why,” Lady Fox says measuredly, “we will not remain here.”

Jack can feel it—he’s about to shove his chair back, jump to his feet, and start yelling.

But Belle says, “You’re quite right, Mother. You shouldn’t stay, it isn’t safe.” She looks to Jack as she continues to address her words to her mother. “You should take as many healthy people with you as you can.”

“There must be room for us to travel comfortably,” Lady Fox replies.

“Well, I’m not going, so that’s one space to fill.”

“Neither am I,” Jack says, feeling relief in his chest as it suddenly becomes easy. He smiles at Belle, but she doesn’t smile back.

“You are,” she says.

“No, Belle, I’m staying with you, wherever you are.” He thinks she might be edging into confusion, too much distress. He recalls the way their patients will become more aggressive with too much commotion.

Her eyes are perfectly lucid.

“I know that’s what you want,” she says, “but what you need is an opportunity to work on a cure. Somewhere you’re not exhausted and constantly interrupted and in danger.”

“I’d have no idea what I was doing!”

“You’ll take my notes. And Hetty. Hetty deserves a place on that ship if anyone does.”

“Yes, but—”

“Why don’t we all retire to the parlour?” Fagin suggests to the others. He throws a wink Jack’s way and Jack nods back distractedly.

“There are people who need you,” Belle says when they’re alone. She’s sitting sideways on her chair and Jack has drawn out the one beside hers. He clutches her hands between his.

“You’re not one of them?” he asks, hurt beyond words or measure.

“I need you to live. That is what I need. Let me save you this time. You will board that ship in the harbour. You will—yes, Jack,” she says when he opens his mouth to argue. “You will take as many healthy people aboard as you possibly can. Take the contents of the laboratory. Take my notes. Work on finding a cure and I promise you that I will do the same. This is not giving up.”

Belle smiles though tears roll down her cheeks.

“Keep my family safe,” she requests.

Jack takes her face in his hands.

“You are my family.”

They leave it there for now.

They leave it there for two days, and on the third day, a man with necrotic skin extending from raw wounds on his neck and chest gets past the preliminary guard the military have set up and comes barrelling into the hospital.

It’s chaos as Jack instructs Hetty to barricade their ward from the inside. He sprints to Sneed’s domain, but Sneed’s heard the intruder and already shut himself inside. He gives Jack a grim nod through the window, and then Jack is running, flying, to the morgue. To Belle. He can hear thudding, uneven steps behind him, like those of a drunken man.

Belle meets him coming up the stairs, and when she thrusts him aside, he isn’t expecting it and is tossed back. He sees the man—dull-eyed and intent on the pair of them—and then he sees him knocked off his feet, an arrow protruding from his chest. Jack stares at his wife in awe as she lowers her bow.

“That will’ve been enough to kill him,” he says dazedly.

“Unless he’s not the sort to stay killed,” she says. “Come on. Fagin’s been keeping my sword in your old room for me.”

All Jack can do is scramble after her, really feeling that he should be the one protecting her—except that he’s shit with a bow and arrow, and he doesn’t relish being reminded.

They retrieve Belle’s sword and go back to the man, who’s begun to stir.

“Very not-dead,” Jack diagnoses.

He stands aside and waits. When Belle doesn’t act immediately, he studies her face. It goes against their very purpose of doing no harm to intentionally kill the man before them. She shot an arrow into him in defence of Jack though, and he doesn’t think it would be possible to corral someone already so far advanced into the disease, to subdue him and take him to a ward, to strap him to a bed. It’s too great a risk. He’ll have to die (again?).

“Give me the sword,” he says to Belle.

Just then, the man lurches upright and his wife draws back her arm, slashing into his neck. It won’t be enough, and Belle’s breathing is quick and shallow.

“I can finish it,” she tells him before he says anything.

“I know you can.” They look at each other. He sticks out his hand and she thrusts the sword’s handle into his palm. “Don’t watch.”

—

At daybreak, the hospital will be under full military guard, no one in or out, food and bodies passed through a designated door—the one near the pit they used to dump amputated limbs into, where a strong solution of carbolic acid used to be enough to dissolve the dead without them reinvigorating and attempting to spread the disease they’re still trying to understand.

Behind him is the ship. Ladies Jane and Fanny Fox are already aboard. Hetty and Flashbang. Charlie and other children whose bitten parents cannot make the journey. Others, advocated for by Belle, who stood up to her mother to do so, who broke her mother’s heart by refusing to change her mind about coming with them.

Jack stands on the dock, knowing what they’ve promised one another, he and Belle. You told me once you would get on a ship for me, she reminded him moments ago. She’s more beautiful than he’s ever seen her, cast in the fleeting grey light before dawn. They hold hands. He can feel her ring.

I won’t be alone, she said.

Sneed will continue to work alongside her, of course. As will Aputi and Prof, who’s emerged from his stupor to recognize the severity of the situation and returned to the hospital in the position of Temporary Head Surgeon (Sneed is fuming, Jack knows).

The Governor has elected to stay behind as well, blustering about “going down with the ship, so to speak.” Noble, Jack thinks, if mostly a lie. He stays for his child. Jack longs to do the same, sliding his hand over Belle’s stomach as they embrace, but they’ve had this conversation. They’re doctors, formal credentials or not, both deeply loyal to the ideal of serving the people of Port Victory. Through separation, they double their chances of coming up with a cure. This is what they tell themselves. Jack holds Belle and never wants to pull away. He presses his lips to her temple.

When they draw apart at last, Belle rushes to her father, falling into his arms. Jack’s own father approaches him with his loping, unhurried walk. His eyes speak before his mouth opens.

“You’re still me number one, Dodge. Fancy Skirt’s just borrowin’ me for a little while.”

“Thank you. Fagin.” Jack chops up his gratitude, uncertain of his voice, which threatens to rend wetly.

“Just so you’re prepared, my dear, I will be suggestin’ your missus name the baby after Granddad”—he taps his own chest—“should you not scurry back in time to name ’im yourself.”

“Could be a girl,” Jack points out.

“Norberta, then.”

“That’s dreadful.”

“Piss off,” Fagin says, reaching out and giving Jack’s shoulders a fond squeeze.

There’s no finer farewell, as far as Jack’s concerned.

He sniffs and gives them another look: Belle bracketed by Governor Fox and Fagin, whose arm she slips her hand through when he joins them. Jack stretches out the moment, eyes on his wife’s face.

What if I don’t remember? Belle asked him.

I’ll remember it twice, he said. Once for me and once for you.

Remember it once, she requested, because love has bound us so tightly there is hardly a distinction.

Once then. I think I put my heart into your chest that day.

She took his hand and placed it to feel the beat.

And I have kept it. Jack turns and strides up the gangplank. The blazing sun appears, standing on tiptoe to kiss the horizon.

#dodgerfoxweek2024 #my writing #The Artful Dodger #dodgerfox #Dr. Jack Dawkins #Lady Belle Fox #Hetty Baggett #Rainsford Sneed #Norbert Fagin #Lady Fanny Fox #Lady Jane Fox

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a-scaly-troublemaker · 6 months

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RV AU on hybrid souls for uty/ut

So in my Revelverse (Or Revelry Verse/RV!) for UTY and UT, Boss Monsters and Elite monsters (who can become boss monsters and are either well trained or related to a boss monster) can handle diluted injections of soul traits. This results in an unnatural Hybrid Soul.

Attempting to bind with a trait always makes them sick until they get acclimated to it. They get sicker and stay sick longer if their soul rejects the trait.

Binding sickness is flu-like, and can leave monsters that reject the trait bedridden and delirious with fever for up to four days. Those that accept the trait have a much milder sickness that lasts up to three days, but can wear off in six hours.

Human-monster hybrids naturally have Hybrid Souls. Not all of the monsters were banished when the barrier went up in RV. The monsters that stayed behind, and their hybrid children, all have illusory and/or shapeshifting magic, which allows them to pass as human. They start coming out of hiding gradually a few years before the barrier breaks.

So who has what trait in RV, and how does it affect them?

Starlo: KINDNESS. His soul is tinted green, and he has weak healing magic and fire magic alongside his attacks showcased in UTY. He is a multi-phasic monster thanks to his hybrid trait and how much influence he exerted over the Dunes, which means he has a Zenith form I dub Nova. More on that later.

Dalv: PERSEVERANCE. He's a gentle, shy monster... most of the time. Don't force his hand. Dalv is a tesla coil with a heartbeat, and in RV, once in a while, he stands up for his friends and for himself. He learned special magic designed to capture, not harm, hostiles.

Ceroba: DETERMINATION. No surprise there.

Orion: PATIENCE. This hinges on a personality headcanon I developed without playing UTY. Orion is a quiet man who doesn't bear his heart too easily, but is always a beacon of support for his friends and family. He does what he can.

Martlet: INTEGRITY. Obvious reasons are obvious.

Now, about Starlo's Nova form. His Nova form has two states: True Nova and Neutral. In True Nova, his skin brightly glows a bright shade of sunny yellow, almost white, which shifts to cyan in a gradient towards his outlines. His spines and the markings on his head simply become brighter in this state. The tendrils on his head may fold backwards, mimicking a comet tail, though they will still move to emphasize his expressions and how he's feeling. In his neutral state, his skin is the same color as the night sky. He blends in perfectly with it, also, save for the fact that his body will not mirror shooting stars. He takes this state when he has managed to get his emotions under control for the time being. He can sometimes be seen rapidly switching between Neutral and Nova, then back to Neutral as he attempts to calm himself down. This results in bright flashes of light. Unfortunately, he is quite impulsive and emotional in this state. Will try to attack people and monsters he's mad at, but will be unable to bring himself to. Such is the curse and blessing of his Hybrid Soul.

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Okay. I'm done rambling now. I hope this was at least interesting to read through, and that I didn't lose you between the blocks of text. I tried to spruce it up with texts effects so my own ADHD brain wouldn't suffer from reading and writing it.

#uty au #ut au #rv!uty/ut #hybrid souls headcanon #hybrid souls hc #ut magic and soul hcs #revel rambles #zenith starlo #nova starlo #name may be changed

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msfbgraves · 11 months

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We're in one

Do you know how you know you are living in a dictatorship?

I spent pretty formative years in the part of Germany that had only gotten out of one a little more than ten years prior. All the adults you met had been through it, all the young people had been raised by people who had been through it and had been through parts of it themselves. There was a wave of books coming out sharing the experience of it, the feelings never before spoken, the lengths people went through to protect themselves and their spirit.

Well, here is what I learnt:

You are constantly trying to get around the system.

When this millenial grew up, getting around the system was generally frowned upon. After all, the system was benenficial, and as such, needed to be contributed to.

My ex-GDR fellow students did not have that experience.

How to get any real information? How to get any consumer good that wasn't alcohol? (There was always alcohol.) How to get through winter? How to get connections with someone who could get you stuff? How to escape surveillance?

There was an inherent sense that the only way to get through unscathed was through sharing what anyone could get. Yes, fine, you could align yourself with the system, too - if it would let you - in order for the system to let you bypass it. Specialty shops for high profile party members. Travel passes for athletes, that kind of thing. Spying 'privileges'. Knowing someone who had connections abroad. But nobody, absolutely nobody, would rely only on what the system would grant an average individual working inside it. You had to know a guy who knows a guy.

None of that was strictly allowed, mind - "west relations" would torpedo any high profile career, if it got you better coffee - but not doing it was simply not feasible.

I am thinking of this so much right now with all the cost of living bullshit going on.

Everything is becoming a luxury. Heating your house. Buying soap that will not make you allergic. Not being surveilled. Making any ethical decision whatsoever. And, as it was there, the capitalist system is not completely airtight. If you want, you can indeed swerve it - when knowing the right go arounds, or sharing resources, or using other people's special memberships, or having a rich uncle, or going analog, or opting out of services or taking all kinds of extra special measures to get what you want despite the system. It's no longer enough to simply pledge your time and taxes and have access to the basic goods and services humans need to build happy communities.

"But at least you're not being bombed, so -"

No. That's straight out of the Hunger Games. "At least you're not in a real war." Wars are not a yardstick to measure humane circumstances by!

There's been a lot of talk in the last twenty years about the externalised costs of capitalism, but it is getting so hungry that these costs are no longer being externalised at all. If you're lucky enough not to get killed, you're getting squeezed, and honestly, I thought we'd officially done away with feudalism, and scrip and company towns.

I don't see much of an answer outside of political reform or revolution but I'm reaching Les Misérables levels of anger about this before going back to a well honed: "Focus on the good, look for the helpers, offer community support, be grateful" kind of response. And gaming the system where you can, not because you want to make a few bucks for a little luxury here and there, but simply because otherwise, you can't turn the heating on. And even if you can turn the heating on, you have to scheme not to get eliminated from your job in another "efficiency optimisation" measure. I'm so angry that after the world has come out of a natural threat to all our lives, the system is going right back to creating these same threats by wars and denying people food and housing.

Sure it's not the only thing going on right now. Sure, we can help each other through these milder threats to our life and sanity. But we shouldn't be forced into poverty to please the Sultan of Bahrein, or whoever is out to get yet a 1000 times more money than the coming five generations of their family could hope to spend, money that is made by increasing world hunger.

And much closer to home it's perverse that supermarkets raise their prices by 15% to offset the economies people made to keep the heating on. It's insane that my city now charges €4 an hour to park in the centre to pay for the extra assistance needed to keep people alive through the cost of living crisis. It's simply grating to have to pay three times as much for a cinema ticket and €120 per year extra for basic internet and t.v. because no one is stopping people from doing it. They don't need to. They can function perfectly well without it. But they can, so they do, driving all other prices up with them. Seriously. It's ridiculous that the public pool is now only €2 cheaper than the spa in a luxury hotel, petrol/gaslone is almost €8 a gallon so obviously they're raising the price of both parking your bike and bus tickets because of "increasing demand". And yes, I could find ways around these annoyances - they did in the GDR - but is this why people risked their lives to get away from the iron curtain?

#cost of living #capitalism #personal

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robininthelabyrinth · 3 years

Text

Spilled Pearls

- Chapter 9 - ao3 -

Lan Qiren was groggy with lack of sleep the next morning, but an evening’s contemplation of the Lan sect’s rules had put him back into the right mindset.

As a disciple of the Lan sect, he was entitled under the rules for his elders to remember do not disrespect your juniors just as he was required to respect and obey your elders. Pursuant to the rules, he should have the protection of his sect and their support, and if what he had was imperfect, it was at least something; for every Lan Ganhui that mocked him, there was a Lan Yueheng that encouraged him, and there were plenty of teachers that preferred him over all the others.

As for his brother – Lan Qiren should not hold his anger against him. He had been acting in the best interest of the sect, seeking to obtain benefits for what had been lost; he had thought throughout the trip that Lan Qiren had given up more than just his word of honor, but had refrained from punishing him accordingly. In the end, even his father had assigned him only to kneel, which was a milder punishment by far than he deserved for all his mistakes and insolence.

More than that, his brother was right: Wen Ruohan would be bound by his own word of honor and public reputation to treat Lan Qiren with dignity, and by endorsing the relationship rather than rejecting it, his sect was indicating that they would hold Wen Ruohan to his word. His father had appropriately expressed concern on Lan Qiren’s behalf, his brother had refuted those concerns with well-reasoned logic; it was inappropriate for Lan Qiren to take such an intellectual discussion to heart.

That he had – and that he had forgotten, even temporarily and in the privacy of his own head, the rule do not argue with family for it does not matter who wins – was merely evidence once again that Lan Qiren was inferior to his brother, who through keeping a cool head had enabled their sect to turn what could have been an embarrassment into a victory.

As for his father…Lan Qiren shouldn’t have been surprised, that’s all. Hadn’t years and years taught him that fathers only gave what they chose to give and no more? He had long ago learned that his father was kind and noble and equitable, concerned with all the Lan sect disciples (but for his dearly beloved eldest) in the same way and the same manner; being disappointed to receive that and nothing more was only his own foolishness.

(He only wondered, in passing, why it had been his father’s glacial voice that had scared him so, compared to the familiar warmth of his brother’s anger.)

So fortified and reassured, Lan Qiren returned to the regular flow of daily life at the Cloud Recesses.

It was not easy. As his brother had predicted, rumors about his sworn brotherhood with Wen Ruohan sprang up at once, and many of his fellow disciples were prone to staring at him when they thought he wouldn’t notice. The teachers handed out many punishments for breaking the prohibition about talking behind people’s backs, although with a certain leniency that made Lan Qiren suspect that they themselves toed the line of that particular rule behind closed doors.

The rumors themselves were split between those that theorized that Wen Ruohan had used nefarious means to entrap Lan Qiren and force him to agree to brotherhood – the Fire Palace was mentioned often, as were various theoretical misapplications of cultivation techniques of dark and unsavory natures – and those that skipped over the how of brotherhood and went straight to speculating as to the why, which typically also involved a variety of references to misapplied cultivation techniques, this time of the sort most often found exclusively in certain types of low-brow spring books.

Someone even suggested that Wen Ruohan intended on taking Lan Qiren to bed as a cauldron, which was the stupidest idea out of the whole lot.

“Of course that can’t be true,” Lan Qiren patiently explained to Lan Yueheng, who had come to collect his geometry book. As a gesture of thanks for his support, Lan Qiren had read the whole thing and sent an annotated list of questions and comments; Lan Yueheng had practically turned pink with excitement when he’d seen it and then secluded himself for two days to write a response. Lan Qiren still didn’t see the appeal of geometry, but he’d managed to coax Lan Yueheng into a discussion of the mathematics of music theory, an area in which their particular interests overlapped, and he had hope of a fruitful dialogue continuing into the future. “At least traditionally, cauldrons are individuals with high cultivation potential that has yet to be developed – raw natural talent, in other words, which can then be refined into strength for another. My inborn talent is only moderate, even low, and my progress is primarily due to good resources and hard work. So even if someone put in the work to make me a cauldron, they wouldn’t get much out of me.”

Lan Yueheng nodded, his brow wrinkled thoughtfully. “So your brother would’ve been a better cauldron than you.”

“…that is correct, but please don’t say it.” Lan Qiren quietly pitied Lan Yueheng’s etiquette teachers, and spared a thought to hope that his cousin’s children, should he have them, would take more after whoever he married than him. Even if only because Lan Qiren hoped to become a teacher himself one day, and he was sure that Lan Yueheng’s particularly brash and un-Lan-like bluntness would make for a terrible future student. “Perhaps it would be more helpful for you to think of it in the sense of energy transfers of heat? I’m already cold, so to speak, so he wouldn’t be able to draw out much heat from me.”

“Wait, if you’re cold and Sect Leader Wen is hot, would that make him the cauldron? Assuming you ever did dual cultivate.”

Lan Qiren pinched the bridge of his nose. “That’s...not how that works, Yueheng-xiong. At all. I was merely attempting to use a metaphor to clarify the issue. Clearly I failed and only confused things further.”

Lan Yueheng shrugged. “At least you try,” he remarked. “And when you fail, you try again, doing something different. It’s better than the teachers who just do the same thing every time and blame you for being as bemused on the seventh repetition as you were on the first.”

Lan Qiren felt his ears go red at the compliment. “You’ve been here too long,” he reminded his cousin. “Your parents won’t be happy to see you spending too much time with me.”

“My parents don’t care. It’s my aunt and uncle who don’t like it. They say that people might start asking if I cultivate as a cauldron too –”

“Your parents listen to your aunt and uncle, so if they don’t like it, you shouldn’t disobey them. The rules say Be a filial child.”

“They also say Do not form cliques to exclude others, but that isn’t stopping the other disciples from playing favorites, is it?”

That was definitely one of the rules more honored in the breach, Lan Qiren thought with a sigh. But what could be done, when their elders did the same? The sect followed the example of its leader, and his father’s tendency towards favoritism were well known, albeit one that was widely indulged as a quirk rather than condemned as a serious flaw.

“I will remind the teachers of that one,” he said. “Perhaps a refresher would be suitable, to remind people. But the rule are meant for your own discipline, not others, and – ”

“Just because other people aren’t following the rules doesn’t mean I shouldn’t, I know,” Lan Yueheng said with a sigh of his own. “I’ll go…oh! It’s getting late. Weren’t you supposed to go to the guest’s pavilion by the western watchtower already?”

Lan Qiren blinked. “I don’t have that patrol route in my schedule until the end of the week.”

“No, no! I was supposed to tell you! Lao Nie’s come to visit, and –”

There were rules against running in the Cloud Recesses, so Lan Qiren was slightly late despite his best efforts, but true to form Lao Nie didn’t admonish him: he only turned from where he was sitting in the pavilion and smiled, calling out, “Qiren! There you are!”

“Forgive –”

“Forgiven,” Lao Nie interrupted before Lan Qiren even got the first word out. Lan Qiren was relieved to see that there was neither food nor tea already prepared; he would have been mortified if it had grown cold while Lao Nie was waiting to see him. “And don’t bow, either. How have you been? Tell me people aren’t harassing you over the nonsense with Hanhan.”

Lan Qiren opened his mouth, then hesitated.

“Do not tell lies,” Lao Nie observed, grimacing. “Ah, Qiren! Sometimes your brother’s worse than useless. It’s a pity, really, I hadn’t realized – well. At any rate, I’ve been bothering him for weeks to tell me about you and he wouldn’t say a word.”

“He was angry at me for messing up the conference,” Lan Qiren explained.

Lao Nie’s eyebrows arched. “You mean the conference where the Lan sect got first place in both major events and then extracted serious concessions from the Wen sect in a completely unexpected and nearly inexplicable political coup that got the whole cultivation world talking in awe at your political acumen? That conference?”

“I lost face for him. He thought – well, he’d thought it was worse than it was,” Lan Qiren hesitated. “He’s not the only one.”

Lao Nie huffed. “People are, by and large, stupid,” he declared. “Don’t let them get to you. They’ll change their tune soon enough.”

Lan Qiren wasn’t so sure. “They say a reputation is like a porcelain vase,” he said, unable to conceal his worries in the face of someone actually expressing concern rather than curiosity. His dream was to be a traveling cultivator, and that would be much easier with a good name, which he had always had before – good, or at least boring, which was just fine with him. He preferred to be boring! It had never occurred to him that he might do something that would render him the subject of gossip; it had never happened before. “Once cracked…”

“Right now, there’s only some bored people speculating that there might be a crack,” Lao Nie said. His confidence was contagious; Lan Qiren couldn’t help but relax a little in the face of it. “No one’s actually sure about it, and they’re willing to hear otherwise – things aren’t yet so bad. Don’t worry. I’ve spoken with Hanhan about it already.”

Lan Qiren felt his ears burning in shame. “Lao Nie! You didn’t!”

Especially since that would undoubtedly only make Wen Ruohan even more angry…

Lao Nie laughed and put his hand on his head, rubbing it lightly. “I did. Not in your name, but rather his own – do you think the Wen sect wants to get a reputation for being led by a man with an unhealthy interest in noble-born children? It’s in his interest to get this cleared up as much as you.”

Lan Qiren felt the tension rush out of his shoulders all at once. That hadn’t occurred to him, but now that Lao Nie had pointed it out, it was clear enough.

After all, for all the talk going around about Lan Qiren, it was widely agreed that he was clearly the victim in whatever scenario they’d thought up, whether through having his oath extracted under torture or by force; even among those who theorized that Wen Ruohan intended to use him as a cauldron, the reputation Lan Qiren might get would be, at worst, that of a seductive flirt who couldn’t be resisted. Lan Qiren’s brother had scoffed audibly the first time he’d heard that, saying that such a rumor would naturally be dispelled the moment anyone came in contact with Lan Qiren for more than a moment, and in all honesty Lan Qiren agreed with his assessment. He had the classic Lan sect looks, yes, but so did many others, and he had a demeanor as stern as a schoolmaster, giving off the feel of an old man even though he wasn’t even of age.

Meanwhile, for Wen Ruohan, the consequences were undoubtedly more dire – if he was said to have a taste for boys, especially noble-born ones, the other sects might be afraid to send their sons around him. It was a different reputation by far than his taste for torture, or his supposed use of dark and forbidden cultivation; those would make people fear him, while lusting for children would only make people disdain him.

Still, Lan Qiren wasn’t sure how exactly even someone of Wen Ruohan’s cunning would go about fixing such a mistake – and that was putting aside why he would make such a mistake over Lan Qiren in the first place. He hadn’t had a chance to explain to his brother his theory that Wen Ruohan had acted just to irritate Lao Nie, and in the end he’d decided it wasn’t worth drawing his brother’s attention back to the subject.

Besides, if Lan Qiren could figure it out, with his notorious inability to understand interpersonal affairs, then surely his brother was more than able to do the same. It wasn’t as if Lao Nie were being shy about it…

“Hanhan said he had something in mind,” Lao Nie was saying, shaking his head. “He usually does, I find, and each idea’s more awful than the next.”

Lan Qiren shifted a little from one foot to the other. “If you know he’s awful, why do you…” he hesitated. “I mean, you call him – an endearment.”

“Oh, he’s a little awful, no doubt,” Lao Nie said, sounding rather fond. “But as long as it’s not my sect, what do I care? Anyway, Qiren, you shouldn’t worry. If there’s one thing you can trust with Hanhan, it’s that he takes care of anything associated with himself.”

Lan Qiren didn’t really like the fact that he was now counted among that number.

It didn’t seem all that safe.

“Though of course that doesn’t protect him from you,” Lao Nie added, suddenly smirking, and Lan Qiren blinked owlishly at him. “Apparently, you’re a very talkative drunk.”

Lan Qiren’s face burned red.

“And effusive, too! According to Hanhan, even after you forced him down in his seat to keep listening to you, you kept waving your hands around while you were talking and knocking things over; he had to pin you down to keep you from destroying things by accident.”

That would explain the marks on his arms.

“Apparently, you didn’t appreciate him doing that and kneed him right in the –”

“You really think he can make the rumors go away?” Lan Qiren hastily interrupted, rubbing the back of his neck a little as if it would make the heat of hideous embarrassment go away. That tallied up a little too well with the physical evidence to be anything other than accurate. “There’s – a lot of them. And I’d like to have a clean reputation.”

“You will,” Lao Nie said, thankfully distracted from his mortifyingly plausible story. “Anyone who meets you will know at once that you’re a righteous and upstanding person.”

Lan Qiren liked that better than the way his brother had put it.

“It’s just that you haven’t had a chance to make your name in the cultivation world,” Lao Nie said. He sounded sure of himself. “You’ll do wonderful things one day, Qiren. I’ve no doubt.”

“I don’t want to do wonderful things,” Lan Qiren said, scowling. “I just want to travel around and help people.”

“Yes, I know,” Lao Nie said, and he sounded fond again, just the way he did when he was talking about Wen Ruohan, or even Lan Qiren’s brother. Truly, Lan Qiren thought to himself, the Nie sect had no idea how lucky they were to have him as sect leader. “Really, Qiren, it’s like I said: don’t worry about it. Now come, tell me what you’ve been studying recently.”

Lan Qiren had promised himself that he would reduce the amount of time he spent with Lao Nie on his occasional visits to the Lan sect, not wanting to risk inciting Wen Ruohan’s unreasonable anger and jealousy any further.

He would need to assign himself an appropriate punishment for breaking that promise, he thought, and sat down to start telling Lao Nie all about the work he was doing with one of his teachers on comparing the origin points of the various Lan sect rules, as well as his experiments on arrays to enhance open-air acoustics that would, he hoped, eventually be inscribed on all Lan sect instruments to increase the range and impact of their spell songs.

He even mentioned the possibility of a joint project on the mathematics of musical theory, and for whatever reason he thought Lao Nie looked especially pleased about that.

He didn’t think about Wen Ruohan at all.

#mdzs #lan qiren #sect leader nie #wen ruohan #my fic #my fics #spilled pearls

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startanewdream · 3 years

Text

Quidditch prodigy

Banner by awesome @the-dream-team.

Summary: This time, when she tells Harry he will be the new Seeker, Minerva McGonagall says: “Your father will be proud. He is an excellent player himself” (and Harry knows it’s true because he spent years watching his father fly).

For @alec-lightwood-bane, who asked for a bit of James getting to be proud with his Quidditch prodigy. The only plot here is fulfilling your request :)

Now on AO3.

________________

From the first time that Harry mounted the little broomstick that Sirius gave him for his first anniversary, James knew his son would be a Quidditch player (sometimes he’d tell Lily that he knew that ever since he felt Harry kicking inside her, but Lily tells him all babies kick; it was not a signal, no matter how at that moment James was talking about Quidditch).

He is not surprised when brooms are Harry’s favourite gifts and, as his godfather, Sirius is more than willing to replace his brooms as Harry grows up, until, finally, for his eleventh birthday, Harry gets a Nimbus 2000. It is his first professional broomstick and Harry can’t stop talking about it all day, promising he will be a Gryffindor player in no time, discussing with Sirius how unfair it is that First Years don’t get to have their own broom nor play in their house team.

That afternoon, after the sunset when the temperature gets milder, they play a kind of five-person Quidditch, which makes no sense and have no rules other than Sirius and Lily are a team, James and Harry is another, and everyone needs to score a goal against Remus, who is a moderately good Keeper.

Harry spends most of the time trying to learn how to ride the broom, so very different from the juvenile models he trained before, mostly intercepting the passes between his mother and Sirius than actually scoring goals. It’s not his son’s best performance, but James says nothing, only ruffling Harry’s hair and making it even more messy than flying already did it.

Harry flies well, naturally, but as a Chaser he always seemed to lack something. He works twice because of it, and James supports him.

The next morning, James awakes at dawn for no good reason. He plans to go downstairs only to drink some water before going back to bed and just laying there, but when he arrives at the kitchen, he finds the backdoor opened.

His wand is at ready at once, but it’s only Harry flying at dawn. He stops at the doorway, watching his son. He really flies perfectly — and boldly, he notices, training movements that James is sure he didn’t teach him and that Lily would have a fit if she saw, long dives that end with him recovering from it at the least possible moment, loops in the air that make him stand thirty feet in the air hanging on his broom only with one hand.

It is like watching him doing an extremely dangerous dance, and James makes sure his wand is ready, just in case, though he feels it’s not the first time Harry is doing this. It looks too well practiced for it.

And it’s not the usual Chaser movements either.

This thought comes for him at the same time that Harry picks up a Golden Snitch from his pocket. He closes his eyes and lets the Snitch fly away, waiting a few seconds until he opens his eyes and flies upward, standing very still fifty feet up, only his eyes moving, concentrated. James can’t see anything different, but after one minute, Harry dives suddenly. When he recovers from the flight, the Golden Snitch is secure in his hand, its wings flying pointless in his closed hand.

His laugh fills the silence of the morning.

When James starts applauding, Harry’s laugh dies. He turns to his father’s direction, his face reddening and a mortified expression arising there.

‘Dad — I — I can explain —’

It feels as if his son is confessing a sin, rather than showing his talents, and James doesn’t understand.

‘What?’

‘This, I —’

‘Well, I must admit I’m upset’, James says, his voice teasingly, but Harry doesn’t seem to notice this. ‘Next time, you should tell me’.

‘I didn’t want — I mean, this is just for fun, I don’t really —’

‘Flying without inviting me? I am so disappointed’.

Harry pauses, dismounting his broom and holding it unsurely. ‘You are not mad because I was playing Seeker?’

James blinks, confused. ‘Why should I? You are natural!’

Harry looks at his feet. ‘We always trained chasing. You are a Chaser’.

‘Yeah, I was, so?’

‘So I should be one. Like you. Everyone tells me I fly like you, and... I didn’t want to disappoint you’.

James shakes his head, baffled that Harry could come up with that conclusion. Well, there is only way to show him. ‘Mount your broom. Go on’.

Harry’s eyes are big, not understanding him, but he does as his father says. James keeps motioning for him to go up in the air and, when Harry is fairly high, he transforms the basket of apples in the kitchen into a basket of golf balls, going to the middle of their backyard.

Then he starts throwing one golf ball in the air after another, and Harry understands at once, flying around and catching each one before they fall in the ground, even when James throws more than one at a time. His son is rather breathless when he lands next to his father.

James can only beam. ‘See? You could never disappoint me’.

‘Even if I don’t try for a spot at the team as a Chaser?’

‘Any team will miss much more if you don’t play as Seeker’. Harry lets out a laugh that is undeniably relieved. James watches his son as they sit in the middle of the garden. ‘I mean it, Harry. Even if you didn’t play at all, I would never be disappointed with you’.

Harry raises his eyebrows, eyes glinting with mischief. ‘Even if I hated Quidditch?’

‘Well, you are right, then I would have to disinherit you’, he says seriously, but Harry’s chuckles in answer tells him that Harry understands his father is only joking. ‘Since when do you practice as a Seeker?’

Harry throws him a sideway look. ‘Two years now’, he says, smirking when James looks surprised. It’s not easy to hide anything from his parents, and yet Harry seemed to have perfected that. ‘Ever since I found this old Snitch in the attic’.

He picks up the Snitch again from his pocket. The Snitch tries to fly away, but when Harry hands it to James, the wings calm suddenly, the Snitch resting peacefully on his father’s hand.

‘Oh, what’s that?’

‘Flesh memories’, James explains, smiling. ‘This is the Snitch I nicked a long time ago at Hogwarts. It was never used before, so since I was the first to catch it…’

‘It remembers you’, Harry finishes, amazed.

‘And I remember it’, James murmurs, letting the Snitch fly and grabbing it easily. Even after all these years, his reflexes are still good, he thinks smugly. ‘I used to try to impress your mother with it, you know’.

‘Did it work?’

James runs his hand through his hair. ‘None at all. I hope you have better luck showing off with the Snitch than I did’.

______________________

Harry writes home twice a week at least, and every one of his letters mention how he misses flying and then that he at least is counting the days for the first flying lesson, so he can be in the air even for a little.

James expects his letter as usual the day after the flying lesson is scheduled, but instead he wakes up to find a grey owl waiting for him at breakfast, watching him severely. Only Minerva McGonagall would have an owl that looks as stern as her, but then again James always remembers how McGonagall’s patronus is herself, so he shouldn’t be so surprised.

What surprises him is her request that he comes to meet her as soon as possible that morning, informing the Floo Network to her office will be opened.

It seems serious and he can’t help but think of something happening to Harry. His son’s owl is nowhere at sight, though.

He scribbles a note to Lily informing he will be out for a chat with McGonagall — it shouldn’t be news to her since they met at least once a month to talk about the updates in the Transfigurations field — and quickly vanishes inside the green flames.

She is expecting him when he arrives, looking over a few scrolls.

‘James’, she says, the weirdest of the expressions on her face. She seems satisfied. ‘Have a seat’.

‘Hello, Professor’, he says, slipping into the old formality without even noticing. He usually meets her at the Three Broomsticks, rarely coming into her office. It always brings him memories of his years at school, and he almost expects to find the Head Boy badge pinned to his clothes.

‘You seem tense’, she notes, watching him over her glasses. ‘Take a biscuit’.

He does. Her biscuits are really tasty, but sitting in front of her, waiting for her to talk, makes him feel like he has just done a prank and is about to get a detention.

‘You must be wondering why I called you here’.

That makes him grin. Jokes were always his remedy to diffuse any situation. ‘I reckon you missed me’.

‘Hardly, when I see a copy of you everyday in the halls’, she replies easily, almost smiling. ‘Your son is less loud, though’.

‘Well, he did get a lot of Lily’.

‘Unfortunately not her disposition to follow rules’, Minerva notes, sipping her tea calmly.

‘Uh’, James hesitates, unsure. It’s not normal to call a parent for any misconduct (or else his parents would never leave McGonagall’s office), so if she called him here… ‘What happened?’

‘You know we have some rules that are stricter than others. For instance, this year the third floor corridor is absolutely forbidden’.

Years of ignoring rules make James want to ask what’s there, or else go discover for himself, but he just nods.

‘And one of the rules we always follow is to expressly forbid First Years of owning a broom’.

‘Hum’, he mumbles, still unsure. Harry knows that rule (he certainly complained a lot), and James is sure he saw the Nimbus 2000 waiting patiently in their broomshed, so he doesn’t get what’s her point.

‘Your son is bound to break that rule this year’.

‘He brought his broom?’, James asks before he can think through it, his mind trying to understand how Harry got to replace his broom with a fake copy so he could smuggle it to the castle. There is a mild impression, but if Harry did it, he would be in serious trouble…

‘No, not yet, I was hoping you could send it. He told me has a Nimbus 2000, is that correct?’

Feeling like he is missing the point still, James nods.

‘Good. If you could send it next week, it would be perfect. I am still getting the board’s signature of approval, but it’s only a formality, Albus already authorized it’.

‘Minerva’, he interrupts her. ‘What is happening?’

‘Oh’, she stops, looking simply delighted. ‘Yesterday during his first flying lesson, your son took to the skies after some silly gibbering with the Malfoy boy. As you may know, Rolanda is quite loud about how any First Year that flies unsupervised gets expelled. Or, well, a detention at least, but we don’t tell them that. First Years are so inclined to follow the rules… present company excepted, of course’.

James smiles guiltily now. But even he, desperate as he was to join the team, followed that rule at least. Madame Hooch really imposed fear.

‘What happened then?’

‘I saw him through my window’, Minerva tells him, pointing to the window next to her, that provides a nice view of the grounds. ‘Fifty-foot dive, recovered without a single scratch. Did you teach him that?’

James raises his eyebrows. ‘No, actually, he taught himself’.

‘Well, he is a natural, that I can’t deny. So I made him the new Seeker’.

‘Hum, what?’

‘Seeker’, she replies, not bothering to hide her smirk now. ‘I know you’ve been long gone from the Quidditch field, but you do remember what a Seeker is, I am sure’.

Later he will appreciate the fact that Minerva McGonagall is teasing him. For now there is only bewilderment.

‘But — seeker — no First Year — he must be the youngest Quidditch player in decades —’

‘A century, actually’, she corrects him. ‘I checked the records’.

‘That’s — that’s amazing! I am so —’, he stops, staring at her. ‘He broke a rule and you are awarding him?’

Minerva looks moderately embarrassed. ‘It’s not an award. I expect him to train harder to compensate for the years the other Seekers have of advantage, and if he doesn’t seem to take this seriously, I will reconsider not punishing him — oh, stop smirking, Potter’.

She looks suddenly stern again, but James can’t help himself.

‘You have a soft spot for him!’, he declares, grinning.

‘I certainly do not play favourites’, she answers, voice full of dignity. ‘I only think of what’s best for Gryffindor and —’, she drops all pretenses suddenly. ‘— you should have seen the try outs! Wood, that’s the captain, Oliver Wood, was crying at the end because no one was able to even find the Golden Snitch. And after last year…’ She shakes her head. ‘If it means we won’t get flatten out by Slytherin ever again — that annoying smirk on Snape’s face —, oh, well, I would buy your son a broom myself!’

James smiles proudly now. There was always a fanatical Quidditch enthusiast in Minerva and he adores when it shows. And from all he knows of Snape, he will hate the fact that James Potter’s son is in the team in his First Year, which is only a bonus (though that is a thing he won’t admit out loud).

‘No need. I will make sure he is dedicating himself, but knowing Harry, he is just too marvelled at being part of the team. It’s what he most wanted’.

She sighs, somberer now.

‘And that’s why I called you, actually. Considering your long history of disregarding rules, this Seeker position is not to mean that your son will get away with everything. I’d rather have him go through his school years without too many detentions’.

‘Only a few?’, James teases.

‘Let’s aim for one third of yours and I will call it a success. He is a Potter after all’.

James nods, trying for a serious expression that’s broken by the fact he can’t stop beaming. His son. First Year Seeker! He can’t wait until he tells Sirius.

‘Oh, I will talk to him’, he assures her. ‘We can’t let detentions get in the way of Quidditch’.

____________________

#eyes glistening #jily lives au #did i mention how jily lives au is a better world #everybody is happy #minerva mcgonagall has a soft spot for James Potter #no wonder she favours Harry too #James Potter #Harry Potter #Minerva McGonagall #Quidditch

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niall-hor-man · 3 years

Note

i just put in a request for c, n, w, z for harry but i didnt realize there were two lists, so just to be clear those were for lost #1 (if youre even still doing it). but thanks! and sorry for all the trouble

C = Cum (Anything to do with cum basically…)

H loves to come inside you; it makes him feel much closer to you (even if it’s in a condom)

Really doesn’t mind tasting his own cum; in fact, when you haven’t come yet and he’s finished inside of you, he really likes eating you out and tasting some of it

Loves when you keep it on your tongue after you suck him off and stick it out before you swallow (or spit, he has no preferences)

He hates finishing on your face; it’s basically just him jacking himself off when he gets close just so that he can try not to hit your eye or get it in your hair. It’s too much work and not worth the pay off

N = NO (Something they wouldn’t do, turn offs)

Humiliation kink

Doesn’t like being made to feel jealous; not particularly you into you flirting with other guys unless it’s during a threesome/something he’s involved in

Nothing extremely painful; he doesn’t like to see you hurt, and he doesn’t love pain himself. It’s more so about the power imbalance that comes with it that he likes in milder BDSM

Public sex

W = Wild Card (Get a random headcanon for the character of your choice)

High sex, because I can’t help myself and that’s my favorite kind of sex

You two didn’t smoke together often; you were more of a drinker yourself, not that you minded weed

It was your best friend’s birthday, and since you had the biggest place out of the group, she asked if she could host a smoke session at your house (Harry was invited, of course)

And who were you to decline a night with your friends? So you happily partook that evening, sharing a joint (or two…) with H, obviously not worried about matching him hit for hit

The night was long, and fun, filled with laughs and junk food, but things were winding down, guests dwindling to just Sammy and your closest friends and their SOs

The last joint of the evening was being passed around when “Landslide” by Fleetwood Mac came on

You immediately abandoned the circle, standing and pulling Sammy up with you; this song was one of your guys’ all time favorites, and you couldn’t stop yourself from pulling her close to you, stupidly swaying to the song with an arm draped around her neck

H watched you as he took a drag from the blunt, but you were completely oblivious, pressed closely to Sammy, giggling and singing to the song as her hands roamed your back and you two spun around lazily

“Can I have a birthday kiss?” She whined, face pressed into the crook of your neck. You giggled and obliged, a hand soft on her face as your mouths slotted together as it had done so many times before

(Harry never minded; he knew it was platonic, and he didn’t quite care that you and Sammy kissed, because you were both in serious relationships and never strayed. You were just a cuddly friend, and he loved that about you)

This time, though, he couldn’t help his arousal; seeing your soft, pliant lips against someone else’s, seeing the way your body swayed to the music–he needed you, and he needed you bad

The kiss was just that, and you two returned to a heap on the floor once the song ended, giggling as the last of the joint was used up. Soon enough, everyone was heading home (Ubering, of course) as more Fleetwood Mac played.

You crawled towards Harry, ready to give him a fat kiss before cleaning up and heading to bed, but he had some other ideas

He pounced on you almost immediately, lips hungry and desperate as he pulled you close to him, making you giggle into his mouth.

“Have no idea how bad I want you right now, kitten.”

“Really?” You smirked, hand trailing down to trace his bulge through his pants. “Then take me right here.”

“Oh, you’re in for it now,” he teased, wrapping his arms around you and rolling you two, laying you back gently. You squealed and giggled, but any amusement was soon lost as he pressed his lips to your neck and grinded down on you

You couldn’t help the moan that escaped as he palmed your breast, finally realizing just how desperate you were for him. Your core was aching, and you couldn’t help but roll your hips up into him

He liked you like this; inhibitions gone and hands traveling up and down his body unapologetically, exploring every inch of him, squeezing his biceps and letting out soft moans into his mouth

“Like that, kitten?” He hummed, rolling his hips down against yours

“Yes,” you panted, pulling his shirt up to palm at his bare back. “Need more, H, please.”

He chuckled, pulling off your clothes as quickly as he could manage before making work on himself. You didn’t wait, palming your breast and bringing your hand to your clit while you watched him undress, moaning already

He loved to see you like this, sensitivity amplified by the weed in your system, inhibitions thrown to the wind, taking whatever you wanted and putting your own pleasure first. His eyes glinted and he replaced your hand with his, rubbing your dripping core as your lips connected.

You moaned into him, arching your back, rutting up, desperate for his cock.

He took the hint, pressing into you slowly, and your legs wrapped around him immediately, needing to feel him deeper. The sex was slow, and deep, and so, so good. (When isn’t high sex good?)

It wasn’t long until you came, with his deep thrusts and circles on your clit, with how sensitive the drug had made you, with how hot Harry looked above you, eyes glazed over and pleasure on his face. He followed soon after, finishing inside you, earning another moan and a long, deep kiss

“We definitely need to do this more often, H.”

(Of course he agreed)

Z = ZZZ (… how quickly they fall asleep afterwards)

Harry loves pillow talk, so he tries to stay awake for a bit, to ask about your day and tell you how beautiful you are and how much he loves you

Keyword: tries

Being that close to you, feeling you around him, seeing you in such pleasure brings him such contentment that afterwards he is in such a state of bliss that he could just pass out

He usually does pretty quickly, not that you mind. You are always asleep first after sex, curled up to him and content

#harry styles #harry styles smut #harry smut #harry styles headcanon #hc #headcanon #one direction #one direction smut #one direction hc #smut hc #smut #also surprise yall im back

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enjeolmii · 3 years

Text

talkies by the night - n.nk

genre: fluff

word count: 1.6k

warnings: cursing but only once, whiny niki, more fluff, also more fluff, that’s about it

a/n: this one’s another repost from my old acc ;)

you (10:51pm) hey bb :)

you (10:51pm) u busy?

❣︎niki❣︎ (10:51pm) hey sunshine

❣︎niki❣︎ (10:51pm) what’s up?

dialling ❣︎niki❣︎…

0:00

0:01

0:02

❣︎niki❣︎ “what’s my sunshine up to at this time of the night?”

you “i was trying to finish all of my homework at once so that i’d have nothing more to worry about”

❣︎niki❣︎ “hm”

you “and now im bored” (your lips form a pout, though you knew he wouldn’t be able to see it - you hear him heave a yawn)

you “how about you? you sound tired. is you alright? is you good? let me know”

❣︎niki❣︎ “yeah, i’m fine. it was just a little busier at the dance studio today" (he giggled)

you “yeah?”

❣︎niki❣︎ “mhm”

❣︎niki❣︎ “dang, those kids really got me beat. this one kid kept asking me to watch him do the dab and even tried to teach me the ‘proper way’ of doing it… for, like, my entire break”

you “oh, lord, i hate kids like that”

❣︎niki❣︎ “tell me about it”

you (a laugh escapes through your nose) “well, i was going to ask you if you wanted to come over and hang out tonight, but i think you should take a good rest for now”

❣︎niki❣︎ “what?”

❣︎niki❣︎ “no, no. i could come over right now if you want. i’m not really that tired, y'know"

you “no, bb. you just said so yourself that you’re tired. you should take a rest. i’ll be fine, hm?”

❣︎niki❣︎ “but i really want to see you" (he brings his lower lip out)

you “we could just open video call if you really want to. you should at least be at bed early tonight”

❣︎niki❣︎ “please, please, please, …” (he whined continuously)

you (a short silence comes as you contemplate slightly) “ugh, fine. but you aren't staying past twelve, alright”

❣︎niki❣︎ “yes!”

❣︎niki❣︎ “i’ll be over in 15. wait for me, sunshine!”

2:48

2:49

the call has ended

Minutes pass by, and the sound of the doorbell stops you from surfing through movies on Netflix. Rising to your feet, you throw the remote control behind you on the couch and head for the door. You grab the knob and pushed it down to pull the door open. Then, a smile replaces your excited expression, revealing your boyfriend standing with crescent eyes.

"Hi," Niki's smile widens at the sight of you, and you open your arms immediately to engulf him in a warm hug.

"Hey," Taking in the scent of his mild cologne, you smile onto his shoulder.

He then pulls his head away from yours to cup it in his palms within the proximity you had, your arms still wrapped around his cozy body.

"I missed you." He said, squishing your cheeks.

"I missed you more. Come in." You pull away from him with a giddy laugh before dragging him into your house and onto the couch, closing the door behind you. But as you were about to take a seat next to him, you notice him clutching a black plastic bag in his hand. Your gaze diverts from the bag, then to him, and you arch an eyebrow in question.

"I got us a lot of snacks," He raised it to pile out every single one of the various go-to snacks you get from the convenience store whenever you went for a visit. "They're your favorites."

Not one second passed by, and you feel your lips come trembling in the effort to hold back the tears in your eyes, remembering how you told him that you're in dire need of a convenience store trip since your siblings snatched all of yours last week.

"You didn't have to." Your eyes start filling up by the brim, reaching the back of your index to wipe the tears off of your now wet cheeks.

The male slumps further into the sofa, amused at how shallow your standards are for crying. "C'mere,"

He momentarily stands up to grab the blanket that you burrito-ed yourself in earlier before he came, and he opens his arms comfortably for you to cuddle under the blanket.

"Why are crying, hm? It's nothing to cry about, crybaby." Niki whispers into your hair once you've climbed up the sofa to snuggle beside him. He wraps the two of you with the blanket, lightly tapping his hand onto your tear-stained cheeks as your head sinks deeper into the crook of his neck.

"I don't know either." You both snicker.

With the remote control stuck in the boy's grip, you unsuccessfully attempt to get your hands on the black gear when he abruptly presses through the several rows of horror movies. Niki knows very well how much you despise this kind of stuff, especially at night. You always argued with him that even though he was there to stay with you throughout the movie, it wasn't like he would be there for you the rest of the night.

He hoists the remote control higher in the air as he stands up, his other arm stretching to block you from reaching it. A grunt leaves your lips when you try to jump up from the sofa towards his hand, flying across the air to tackle him down onto the floor.

With a smirk on your face, your hands immediately lunge for the sides of his torso and the base of his neck, playfully brushing your fingers against his skin to tickle him amidst all his giggly squirms.

"Give- me- the remote-" You tickle him mercilessly, and he tries to turn you around to compete you to the floor.

"Nope." One push was all it took to have your back against the ground and your boyfriend kneeling beside your body. It's become your turn to get tickled, and you weren't prepared for it.

In between jagged giggles and desperate attempts to break free from the beast, you fail miserably to shut off his strategies. Your tensed-up muscles start to feel exhausted and it didn't take you long enough to give in to his disposition.

"Okay, okay. Stop," You breathlessly plead, and he detaches his hands from you, alleviated, getting back on his feet before reaching a hand out to help you get up. "You just never let me win these games, do you?" You sigh.

You take his hand and hurl yourself up with his help. Wrapping your arms around his shoulders, you walk back to the couch, dragging your shaky feet across the floor, only to collapse back into the cushions.

"It's okay. I'll let you win next time." He tugs you back into his arms under the blanket.

Through the decks of choices of horror movies you have searched through, you somehow convinced him to choose one that's a little more benign for the night. It didn't help him that seeing you, after such a long day at the dance studio, emphasized how beautiful and comforting you are to him. With that thought running perfectly in his mind, he gulps down and tears his stare away from you.

With his thumbs dancing across the right buttons of the gear, the pair of you finally find the one that you had set in stone, though you still had little doubts about your choices.

The movie began and it was already causing tiny bumps to appear on your arms. The main character was roaming alone in the dark of the corridors, finding a strange, eerie letter lying at the end of the hall.

The lights turned off everywhere in your house only added to the anxiety building up in your body, so you try scooting closer to Niki, which seemed to be impossible now that you see how you're already shouldering his chest.

Your actions caught the male in a string of silent laughter. You could tell he was trying to hide it from you, though, and you shoot daggers in his direction when you felt the vibrations on your shoulder.

Halfway into the movie, you got immersed in the thrill. Munching on the bag of your favorite snacks, it actually wasn't as scary as you had thought initially, the jump scares much milder than you had expected. Yet the unsettling feeling of never knowing what could happen still lingers in you, and quite oddly, the situation scares you more rather than the ghosts themselves. A little strange for someone as weak-hearted as you, but it seems to fit right perfectly to your tast-

You were torn away from your train of thoughts by a heavy feeling on your shoulder. With a startled jolt, you see your boyfriend leaning on your shoulder with his eyes shut asleep. You bring your hand to your chest, relieved at the sight of him instead of the creepy monster from the movie out to get you.

His head lies against you, the proximity so close that you could count every strand of eyelashes that he had. You took the opportunity to stare deep into his elegance. He was almost like an angel offered to you shining from the heavens with those good looks, and you all but feel the butterflies erupt from your stomach - just like when he confessed to you at that practice room a year ago.

"If only you didn't look so gorgeous like that, I would have punched you in the face for passing out on me right now." You quietly mumbled at his resting state, a sigh leaving your lips as you go back to munching chips and watching the movie with a shaking head.

When you return into a trance of spewing curses, a light smile forms at the corner of his lips, feeling indebted for having a girlfriend as cool as you.

#enhypen #enhypen imagines #enhypen x reader #enhypen niki #enhypen fluff #enhypen nishimura riki #enhypen riki #nishimura riki imagines #enhypen angst #enhypen scenarios #enhypen fic #iland #iland imagines #iland niki #iland x reader #kpop #kpop x reader #ariafics

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dancingthesambaa · 3 years

Text

The Smell of Plum Blossom Tea Ch 16

Summary: Just like a butterfly wing, a single act of kindness can change the course of the future, it certainly did for MK as a black furred monkey put out a hand towards him.

Rating: Teen and up

Chapter 16: The Ex From Down Under

“Bye dad! I’m heading out!” MK called as he rushed to the table and quickly stuffed his bag with all his stuff that was lying around.

“See ya,” he poked his head out of the kitchen. “If you're coming back again, I’m making some Mapo Tofu for dinner tonight if you want to stop by.”

“The mouth searing one,” he questionly asked as he continued packing without even looking at what he was putting in.

“I’ll have a milder one on the side,” he chuckled as he watched his child's fist pump the air.

“I will totally be here.”

“Alrighty, and you can ask Wukong if he wants to come,” he nonchalantly said as he wiped his hands on his apron. He then noticed MK staring at him and he raised his eyebrow, “What? By the gods know when that dumbass ever had a good meal that wasn’t from his own hair.”

“Uh huh,” was all he said as he tightened his bag then he gave him a wide grin. “Well I’m off,” he ran up to his dad and gave him a big hug before leaping out of the window free falling before stepping on a branch and hopping from tree to tree.

“…I may have enabled his window hopping habits,” he mused to himself before shrugging his shoulders and walking off.

“Remember, don’t let your body tighten so much when you get into the swing, ease up before snapping, giving you more momentum,” Monkey King lectured as he demonstrated with a staff. It was always a bit of a struggle to teach his student new techniques when he already had a style in place. Macaque always leaned more towards the silent route with swift strikes and keeping the body low, while he kept more towards the louder method of quick feet and aiming high. Each monkey had incorporated their style to fit themselves and they have taught their own moves to the other just to get more variety and not to be so predictable. Once he had learned that Macaque had taught MK his own fighting style, it was much easier to incorporate his own style into his as well.

MK focuses as he did exactly that as he jumped up in the air and landed a hit on the training dummy high in the sky. “Yes!” He fistbumped the air, it had taken so long to actually complete that move, but he has finally done it!

“Nicely done kiddo,” he grinned and ruffled his hair. “Now how about we take a small break.”

“Sounds good to me!” He stretched out his limbs as he made his way to his bag. He paused as he quickly caught the water bottle thrown at his head, “Thanks!”

“No problem,” the monkey said as he sat down next to him. “So how has everything been? I heard you got into a gang turf war the other day.”

“By the gods,” MK groaned, “that had to be the stupidest fight I have ever seen and I’m friends with Mei! So here I am minding my own business and delivering some noodles to this random dude when all of a sudden gunshots ring out and the man begins to rave like an absolute lunatic.”

As Wukong listened to the story he couldn’t stop his eyes from wandering over to MK messy hair as he instinctively scooted over next to him and began to smooth out his hair.

“-then the leader on the opposing side decides to step in cause why not?! And declares that-,” he paused as he finally felt his mentor grooming his hair after he was ranting for ten minutes. “Uhhh?”

“Go on, I’m still listening,” he said as he continued to thread his fingers in his hair.

The teenager only blinked once before going with it, “And do you know what he declares? He declares that the bowl of noodles is actually for him and guess what?! Now we have both sides gearing up for a fight over a goddamn bowl of noodles!”

“Don’t swear,” he murmured then let out a soft purr as he untangled a particular spot.

“Dad says it’s fine as long as I don’t do it in front of kids.”

“…yeah that seems pretty like him.”

“Speaking of him, you're invited to dinner tonight if you want to come,” he said.

“Yes!” MK blinked at the immediate response, but then the Monkey King quickly settled down and casually said, “Yeah, that would be fine.”

“Coolio, I’ll text him,” he waited for him to release his hair before he got up, but it didn’t seem like it hit the monkey until he saw MK eyes staring at him.

“Oh right, I should probably let go,” he gave a forced chuckle.

“Don’t worry Dad is a lot worse,” he reassured him as he made his way to his bag, “he sometimes would take hours on grooming and wouldn’t release me until he had deemed it worthy.”

“Sounds nice,” the Sage muttered.

“To you, but I was so bored sometimes that I would fall asleep just to pass the time,” he said as he was about to grab his phone when he noticed a paper. “What is this?” He took it out and saw that it was a letter, but it wasn’t addressed to him, but rather all it said on the envelope was the phrase ‘My Love.’ “Well this is weird?”

“There’s a lot of things that are weird bud, but I think you need to be a little more specific,” he smiled at his student's confused look.

“Well I have a letter that I’m pretty sure isn’t mine,” he held out the mail.

“It looks like someone has an admirer,” he teased seeing the words.

“Noooo,” he softly whispered. He already had his experience with one crazy fangirl and it took both Mei and Red Son threatening the living hell out of her before she finally backed off. He really doesn’t want anything to do with that anytime soon. “It’s not for me.”

“Well open it and see whose it is for then.”

“Isn’t that like an invasion of property and technically a crime?”

“How else are you gonna know whose it for then?”

“…touché,” so he did exactly that and carefully opened the envelope and took out the paper that was just full of writing. He felt his stomach drop as he saw who it was for on the first line. “To my dear Macaque.”

“What,” Wukong's tone was dead flat as he processed what MK just said.

MK said nothing as he continued to read and the more he read the creepier it got.

To My Dear Macaque,

It’s been so long since I have seen you, I hope you have been receiving each and every one of my letters. If not, that’s okay. I'll keep saying this as many times as needed.

I love you. I love you. I love you.

I will forever say this even when you don’t believe out of connection anymore, for you have stolen my heart and doused it with the most burning of acids that the two of us have created. It burns like the hellfire consuming my soul, it stings like the little needles digging through each and every last one of my smallest injuries and gently tearing it apart. It hurts and it hurts and it hurts and you hurt me. You hurt me and left me to my despair after I have given all of my love to you and only to you. You left and walked away after denouncing our burning heart we made together.

You left it there and it’s still burning.

But I forgive you.

I forgive all that you had done to me because I know that deep down you still feel the same. But don’t worry, once I see you again I’ll show you that the two of us were meant to last far longer than even the stars. I’ll show you that we are meant to be together even if I have to drag you away by force and give you my medicine to show you that all we need is each other. You have tasted the sweet elixir before and you were more than agreeable once the potion had set in and shown my love for you.

But I’m sure it won’t have to come to that.

We will meet soon my love, until then, please take care.

From your heart, Shun

“Who the f- who is Shun,” the monkey let out a low growl as he finished reading the creepy ass letter. “And why does he know moonlight? And what is with the creepy letter?!”

“That’s Dad's creepy ex boyfriend!” He said in a panic as he began to pace around.

“His WHAT?!” He couldn’t stop the small burst of energy erupting from out of him as his eyes glowed a dark gold and the ground slightly cracked beneath his feet.

“This is bad. This is bad. This is so so so so BAD!” MK began to panic as he kept pacing around the area and gripping his hair. “So very bad! How long has this been happening? How long since he has been receiving his creepy letters?! It’s also ready bad enough he mentioned the potion, but now he’s implying he’s coming here?!”

“Kid, kid,” Wukong managed to wrangle down his enraged emotions (hello jealously how have you been) and moved towards his kid in an effort to calm him down. “MK, it’s okay, everything will be okay,” he said as he gently pried the stubborn fingers from his hair. “I’m sure he will be fine, this is Macaque we’re talking about here, and sure that no potion he could dish up could stop-”

“It’s a love potion,” he blurted out.

“That devil concoction,” he hissed out. But took a deep breath in and reluctantly pushed the rebranded slave poison to the side of his mind…for now. “Like I said, I’m sure he will be just fine.”

“Maybe I’m freaking out. I mean he’s probably not even here or anywhere near here. Maybe dad even told him off and he’s probably not even coming. Maybe I’m just blowing this whole thing out of proportion,” MK tried to reason out.

“There we go, now breathe with me.”

“I will I will…right after I call dad!” He immediately shot towards his phone and dumped almost everything before he found it. He quickly called his Dad's number and waited for the call to go through.

BZZZZ

‘I’m not in right now, if you're calling for medical treatment or prescriptions then leave a voicemail. If you're anyone else, why? Just why?’

Beep

“He’s not answering! Time to panic!!”

The figure had just made it to the edge of the Plum Blossom Forest and out in the distance, he saw the tallest Plum tree he recognized.

“It’s been so long my love,” he lovingly whispered as he gave a few licks to his arm before quickly moving through the trees.

Happily ignoring the hisses and snarls close behind him as they all were not happy at the intruder.

Inside said home, a certain monkey's whole body twitched as he slammed his items in hand and began to match to the door.

“Fuck me, I thought his creepy ass wouldn’t be anywhere near here until next week, at least then MK would be back at Pigsy shop,” he hissed as he materialized a two sharp bladed tonfas in hand. “I had no appointments, all my stocks are good, all I literally wanted to do today was to make food, drink some tea, and enjoy a family dinner with Sunshine included but I guess not the fuck today! I guess it’s a good fucking thing I have the perfect target to direct my anger I suppose.”

He gave out another snarl that was amongst the long line to come as he dipped into the shadows once more and took off towards the intruder that every creature in the forest, whether it be animal, demon, or creature alike, no one liked the intruder roaming in their home.

He quickly ventured through the shadows, roaming from plant to tree, animal to grass, until he finally saw a ring tailed lemur with a soft smile upon his face as he paused and his eyes lit up

“It’s been so long my love,” he cooed as he tried to find the humming presence. He didn’t have time to dodge the blow coming from the front as blades sliced into him, but his smile didn’t falter as he took in the sight of his beloved. “You're still as beautiful as ever”

“And you're still as creepy as ever,” he snarled as let his tonfas glow brighter. “I thought I told you to fuck off and away.”

“It was a mere trifle the both of us had, words were said, but I forgive you,” he gently smiled.

“Ughh I really hate when you do that,” he grimaced at his former horrible choice of a partner. “I will give you one fucking chance, leave before I show you once more why you should have stayed gone.”

“I’m sorry, but I will show you with all of my heart and being just how much you truly need me,” Shun only needed to drag a foot back in preparations as a sense of eagerness thrummed deep within him. It’s been so long since he had physics contact with his love after all.

Macaque forced down the shudder as he once again disappeared into the shadows as soon as he sent some clones towards him to attack.

Some creatures of the forest were spectating as this whole fight went down, eager to watch the intruder fall, maybe if the Guardian is generous enough he’ll allow them to feast on what remains.

The forest was about to become a little more wild when first blood was spilled.

“What do I do? What do I do? What do I do?!” MK was clutching his phone as he attempted to call his Dad a few more times, but his heart picked up each time he didn’t answer.

“Kid,” he attempted to once more calm him down when he shot up.

“Yanyu! I should call Yanyu!” He quickly dialed her number and his legs began to shake in anticipation as the number rang.

BZZZ

BZZZ-

“What’s up short-”

“EMERGENCY!” He shouted out.

“GHA! What do you-”

“Big problem! Huge problem! So I was packing my bag cause I was in a rush to get to training and I was talking to Dad so I didn’t notice what I put in my bag. So I went for trainingandwhenbreakdtstartedIfounditinmybagandIcantbelievr-”

‘MK BREATHE’ it wasn’t just the bluenette, but two other voices that joined her.

“Mei, Red, what are you guys doing with Yan?” He questioned for a moment before shaking his head, “Wait, not important, there is a big problem!”

‘Well spit it out then,’ Red huffed.

‘I think he’s trying,’ he could hear Mei's amused voice in the background.

‘Both of you hush,’ Yanyu turned back to the phone, ‘Now what’s happening?’

“Shun contacted Dad. He's almost here and Dad won’t pick up his phone!”

‘WHAT!!!’ They all screamed with both Red and Yanyu being significantly higher as the adult continued, ‘What do you mean creepy fucker is coming?!’

“Fuck Fuck Fuck this is bad!’ He could hear the prince in the background slowly freaking out. ‘I thought his crazy ass wouldn’t come back!’

“Apparently he did!’ Mei yelled out.

“I don’t know!” MK hysterically said as he began to almost hyperventilate, but the Monkey King began to run his back.

“Okay everyone breathe,” he firmly told the centuries younger children on call. “You are forgetting, this is Macaque you’re talking about here, I’m sure he will be fine.”

“The Monkey King is listening to this?!” Red hissed as he accidentally showed weakness to one of his greatest enemies.

“I know he will kick his scrawny ass, but that doesn’t alleviate my fear of him getting poisoned again and being put under an eternal sleep to be used as a god damn porcelain doll again!” Yanyu shouted, bypassing the fact that she was talking to the Monkey King.

“Again!” Everyone bar Red shouted together.

‘Yeah! And you thought the love poison was bad, this is just fucked up! Now do you see why I’m freaking out!’

“Why do you think we don’t want uncle anywhere near him!” The Bull prince continued.

“Okay that’s it,” Wukong summoned his cloud, “Hop on, we’re heading over there. Even if he’s not there, it’s better to be safe than sorry.”

“Thank you!” He leaped onto the cloud.

‘We'll meet up with you as fast as we can on Mei ride,’ Yanyu said with a rush to her voice as the trio quickly went to the motorbike which thankfully has a side seat.

“Okay,” MK muttered as he held onto the fluffy cloud.

‘Oh and Monkey King.’

“Yes?”

‘You better not fuck it up,’ she said with an ominous grin in her voice as she sat in the sidecar and Red held onto Mei as she quickly revved up her engines.

“…I’ve been hearing a lot of those lately.”

‘Good! See you real soon,’ she finished as he heard the motorcycle take off and the call ended.

“I guess we will,” he said to himself as they took off for the Plum Blossom Forest.

“I really hope Dad is okay,” MK muttered as he gripped tighter.

“He will be,” he firmly stated. ‘You better be okay mango,’ he privately thought. ‘Else I don’t think your kid would take it….fuck your better be alright else I will be kicking your ex boyfriend ass and making sure he knows the meaning of pain.’ He silently hissed out in his mind as he got the cloud to love even faster as it soared over the ocean.

“What is up with the forest right now,” Mei growled out as the group sprinted through the trees with Yanyu leading them.

“I don’t know, it has never done this before,” MK confusingly shouted out as they ran through. For some reason, when the two were about to go over the forest, the cloud suddenly dropped until it was underneath the treetops, making it near impossible to travel by cloud. Luckily they spotted the others a little ways behind them and grouped up together.

“It’s part of Mac magic,” the bluenette said as she paused at one tree before darting to the left.

“What do you mean?” Monkey King asked as he tried to locate Macaque's aura using his golden eyes, but all it showed was the entire area covered with a faint pulse of violet energy.

“So you know how he planted basically all the trees in the forest right,” she got affirmations from them as they continued. “Well in the process he put his own energy into the plants, because apparently he wanted to make sure they grew up okay. Thus making this whole forest basically under his control.”

“So that's why it felt familiar,” the Monkey muttered as he remembered back to the first time he saw the forest. “It also makes sense why my true sight isn’t working.

“That would be more awesome if we weren’t currently lost in this!” Mei said.

“I know the way, he showed me after the last time Shun showed up. This forest was on a complete lockdown and nothing was recognizable like now,” she emphasized the land around them. While it seemed that nothing at first glance changed at first, if you really looked then they would notice that each tree looked almost identical to each other. No distinguishing marks, no distorted branches, not even the groves held any difference.

Each and every tree that they saw were the exact same.

“Okay that is disturbing,” Red muttered.

“Like I said, his little magic is intertwined with the forest and even with some of the creatures living here. It was supposed to be made for protection for not only the creatures living here and to anyone who may accidentally wander in, but to keep out the intruder that seeks to harm. He taught me to seek out the odd spots and openings left open in case something like this happened again. Though I don’t think he literally meant this exact scenario,” she grumbled. “He’ll probably teach you guys this after this whole thing is over.”

“We’re getting closer,” Wukong stated.

“What makes you say that,” MK asked without taking his eyes off Yanyu's back.

“The animals running,” he pointed out several animals, birds, monkeys, and insects alike, all fleeing from the same direction.

“We’re getting close,” she said as they continued to run.

It was only twenty minutes later did Red speak as he tried to look ahead, “I’m not the only one who can hear the sounds of growls right?”

Everyone nodded their ahead and just up ahead they saw a rather large crowd of mythical beings, spirits, and demons alike all grouped together and waiting as they kept their eyes firmly on what’s ahead. They follow their gaze and can faintly see, just between gaps a bright violet glow followed by a form of black mass.

It was Macaque.

“Dad/Pops!” Mei and MK yelled out for him, but he didn’t react to them as he pushed back against something else.

Monkey King wasted no time in climbing up one of the trees to get a better view with MK and everyone else quickly following him. There they witness Macaque fighting against an agile lemur who seemed to be trying to throw himself at the monkey, but he keeps dodging out of the way in time.

“Fuck it is Shun,” Yanyu groaned as Red let out a soft “noooo.”

“So how do we go about this,” Mei questioned as she fingered her sword while she watched her pops dive back into the shadows only to get pulled right back out, “cause I say we go in swingin.”

“We will not be doing any of that,” Red hissed as he grabbed hold of Mei's collar, “We have to play this smart, while Shun is a certified psychopath, he is a very smart psychopath.”

“No kidding, it’s how the two of them got together in the first place,” the doctor muttered and smirked as she saw her former teacher trip up the lemur and slammed him to the ground, but that didn’t stop her from noticing a certain brown furred monkey twitch as she mentioned that.

“Okay, we are getting a full explanation on how even when this is all said and done,” Mei grumbled and settled back down on the branch. “So what do we do?”

“We just have to wait and see what happens,” the bluenette got comfortable, “I doubt he’ll need our help, but I rather not take chances.”

“Nice plan, nice plan, just one flaw with that,” both demon and human glanced at Mei. “Two certain monkeys didn’t get that memo.”

Both of them blinked, then dropped their heads and sighed.

“Of course they would, cause why not,” Yanyu uttered as she turned her attention back to the fight. At least she won’t have to worry too much about stepping in, not that she thinks she could stand a chance, with both Monkey King and Doc's son charging in.

“You know it would be so much easier for you if you just fuck off you know,” Macaque mocked as he flicked off the blood from his blades. “Maybe you’ll still have a working arm if you run fast enough.”

“Aww you worry my dear-,” he smiled as he didn’t even flinch at the blood dripping down his arm.

“Not in the slightest.”

“Don’t fret, it will soon be over, but I will admit that I am getting a bit agitated,” his voice echoed out, which didn’t seem to do much at first as many spectators cackled at his attempted intimidation.

But then a weird smell filled the air, it seemed to have always been there as they hadn't taken notice of it before, but it got stronger as it smelt remarkably of a flower. They couldn’t quite put what kind of flower it was before-

EYES EYES EYES SO MANY EYES

EVERYWHERE

NOWHERE

CANT HIDE

NOT FROM IT

WHAT IS IT

WHAT IS PREDATOR

WHAT IS PREY

WHO IS WHO

WHERE ARE WE

WHERE ARE WE RUNNING

WHERE WHERE

Many creatures fell victim to this as they froze in place and whimpered out as they barked their necks in hopes to quell the predator or maybe grant them a quick death.

It was imposing.

It was encompassing

It was frightening.

And this only made Macaque still for a moment of the sudden smell before he got his bearings back, but that was all Shun needed as he leaped towards him with arms and mouth open wide.

Here’s a fun fact that not many know about lemurs, while they are known for being quick on their feet and agile to escape predators, there is one species who have, through a long process of evolution, developed another way of warding off predators or capturing their prey.

It was a toxic bite.

Apparently a certain species called slow lorises poison is so deadly that it can kill humans with a single bite and guess which lemur has that lucky parent.

‘Finally,’ he thought to himself as he closed the distance between him and his love. ‘I have finally got you back with me. Don’t worry, with my new potion I’ll make sure this time we won’t part,’ he lovingly thought as he tasted the special mixture in his mouth. He should really send his carrier a fruit basket when his love is properly back with him, she was the one who taught him everything he needed to know about potion making. Without her expertise, then he would have never known how to make the love potion, after all that was how she managed to snag his sire to mate with her.

Everything would finally be perfect…except for one little detail.

Not every creature was affected by the smell.

Ní merely flicked her tails in annoyance as she calmly watched.

Shui Gui took a huge breath of the smell in and puffed it out after a few seconds to reveal a green miasma cloud.

Xianglu merely shook their heads as they tried to rid of the foul smell in their nose.

BaBa just hissed at the inferior attack before nestling down.

Even the Faeries were tittering away at the pathetic illusion the demon tried to submerge them in.

These creatures, deities, demons, are just some of the few with a long history backed by so much experience that the infant lemur cannot comprehend. It was quite amusing to think that such a being could even equate to their level, even their Guardian was merely humoring him, but quite funny nonetheless. Regardless though Shun did possess the quality to allude himself to being much scarier to those around him with his…disturbing methods that he tends to use and hides himself behind his illusion. Unfortunately for him, it’s quite easy to bypass with multiple tools in hand, either physically and mentally. But more often than not, there is one sure fire method that most people tend to turn to if they don’t know which is correct.

Determination.

Which embodied a young adult as he bashed his staff against the lemur head, and a Sage monkey who punched him so hard that he left a crater when he finally landed.

Both beings were very determined to at least brutally maim the creep by the time they were finished with him.

“DON’T TOUCH MY DAD!/MOON!” Both MK and Wukong respectively shouted as they stood in front of a sighing Macaque.

“You know I had this handled right?” He looked towards the both of them, not bothering them with the possessive form both monkeys said. Though the same couldn’t be said for Shun as he was still in his spot and didn’t know who to first turn his attention to until his eye settled on MK.

“You have a child,” he said wonder in his voice as his whole face lit up.

“I’m not liking that look,” MK muttered to Wukong who nodded.

“No, no, please don’t say-” Macaque practically begged him not to say what he was about to dread.

“We have a child.”

“Nooooo,” he whispered out as he wished he could just knock himself out after hearing those words then shook it off and said with a growl. “Not your child, my child. You are not part of this equation, you're not even a variable that was left out, you are nowhere near part of any of this.”

“But my love-”

“Not my/his love,” all three monkeys stated.

“Despite our brief separation, you know it has always been a dream of mine to have a child of our own. Remember the time we spent out in the town as we laid our eyes at a beautiful family,” he almost cooed at the child's awkward face. “Two parents and two children, a boy and a girl, they looked very lovely together.”

Macaque did remember what he was talking about, he remembered his eyes lingering on the family as they were in town on a date. He couldn’t stop his eyes from lingering on them as he let a small smile play on his lips as Shun shared that same sentiment and wrapped his arms tighter around him. It used to be comforting, that small embrace used to mean ‘he is here for him, he won’t let you go’, but now all it means now is ‘he will not let you go, no matter how much you beg.’ It has turned so very confining. But he kept his mouth shut and let his former boyfriend ramble, trying to look for another way not to get bitten from his ‘love bite.’

“It was pure bliss just the two of us, those small moments we shared to the nights laid up in our nest as you laid under me as I enraptured your mouth and slowly move-.”

‘Never mind!’ He quickly burst forward and sent a high knee to the underside of his jaw that was followed by a staff to the side of the neck and a claw to the stomach courtesy of both child and friend. ‘He is not about to go there!’

“I do not want to hear any of that!” MK shouted as he backed away from the lemur after his attack.

“That makes two of us,” Wukong lowly growled as only his self control was the only thing stopping him from ripping the bastard in front of him. And even that was by the hair as he learned that new little tidbit that he did not want to hear.

“I have been a bit curious,” Shun simply stood back up and looked towards the Monkey King, “Who are you to him?”

“I am the Monkey King, you may have heard of me,” he said as he stood up straight as his golden eyes flickered in his eyes.

“How quaint,” he merely said, “but you didn’t answer my question,” a tinge of aggression laced his voice. “Who are you to him?”

Now at this point Wukong self control was almost completely gone since the first time he heard about this creepy ass bastard (which he so needs to interrogate Mac on why the fuck he would even date someone like him) and it was not looking so good. So to hear this black and white knockoff of a two legged beetle that deserves its tongue to be torn out, implies that he was the outsider in all of this rather than the other way around. Well, he decided right then and there that this nasty little bug needed to learn a few things first before he became a rotting corpse for the rest to feast upon.

“Wukong don’t you dare,” Macaque saw that look in his eyes.

“I was his friend long before you ever thought of,” he taunted and wrapped his arm around Mac's shoulder. “I have known him longer than even the mountains have formed and before towns became cities. He knows me longer than some of the forest was ever formed and before kingdoms have reached their destruction. We know each other very thoroughly, both inside and out, and seen the other at our best of times and our worst of times. It feels like eons have passed since then, but when it comes down to it you can say the two of us are made up of the same soul.” He finished his dramatic speech with a nuzzle to his black fur as he gave a soft kiss on his head. He opened one golden eye and grinned mockingly as he said, “So how long have you known him?”

Silence filled the air as they all locked eyes on a stiff Shun who didn’t even move an inch since Wukong started it. But what they could see was the underlying darkness in his eyes as he slowly blinked. Then he smiled, teeth bared and all, as he stated. “It will be a great joy when I tear out your throat and rip that nasty little tongue right out of your mouth and force you to watch as I consume it.”

“Try me,” he said with teeth bared.

Both Lemur and Monkey locked eyes with each other as you can almost see lighting shoot out of their eyes from the sheer animosity the two had with each other despite not even knowing the other for ten minutes.

The black furred monkey muttered, “And they said I’m the dramatic one,” to whom he was referring. It may never be known as Wukong and Shun leaped at each other at the same time. Macaque just groaned and decided to walk over to his son instead of the fight that was happening. “So, you met Shun.”

“I hate him,” MK instantly said as he got closer to his Dad. “I really hate him.”

“You and me both starlight, so why are you here anyways? Aren’t you supposed to be training right now?”

“So this morning I may have accidentally grabbed the letter while I was stuffing everything into my bag,” he said as he cheered when his mentor used his tail to choke the lemur while he had his arms pinned.

“Damn it, I thought I trashed them all. Must have been one that just came in,” he grimaced.

“Why didn’t you tell me?”

“Tell you?”

“That your creepy ex was back,” MK said with a twinge of irritation in his voice. “I could have helped.”

“Nice thought comet, but I had it handled,” he smirked as he watched Shun attempt to break Wukong's arm only to get a vicious claw to the face. “This isn’t my first time dealing with his creepy ass.”

“But I could have helped,” he almost whined, “Mei has tons of ideas for retribution and I got a very powerful stick that tends to hurt…a lot.”

“And I believe that, but I got it,” he ruffled his kid hair, “but thank you for looking out for little ol me even when I don’t need it.”

“Like how the Monkey King is doing right now.”

“He’s just an impulsive idiot right now,” he grinned sharply as he watched Shun stagger in place from his wound as Wukong taunted him as his hand dripped red. He is not totally blind to see that his friend has a protective streak wider than the Earth when it comes to people he cares for. He has certainly seen it when his leg was broken by an uppity pack of Tiger demons. Needless to say, when the Wukong got back and saw him lying there and surrounded by demons, well let’s just say that the food was pretty good that day and even had some warm blankets to go alongside with it.

So to see that this still applies for him despite their long separation, he couldn’t stop that warm burst of feeling brew from inside of him.

Wukong, on the other hand, was feeling the blood pump in his ears with each hit he landed on the bastard. And while he unfortunately can’t go full Sage mode on his ass (the forest probably won’t be able to stand if he did and he actually likes this haven his mate had created) he is still enjoying kicking this disgusting little lemur ass.

“Bet you really feeling it now,” he taunted as he broke another rib. “Can ya feel it? Each little bone in your body breaking? It must fucking suck!” He viciously laughed, “But that’s what you get when you don’t fuck off when someone tells you no, especially Moonbright.”

“Stop calling him that,” the lemur growled for the first time.

“Oh what Moonbright,” he received another growl in return. “Or maybe Mango? Moon? Moonlight? My heart?”

“YES!” He hissed out as he recklessly leaped towards the monkey.

“Nah, can’t do that,” he smirked as he grabbed the lemur arm and tossed him back towards the growing crater. Then he let a wicked smile show on his face, “I mean, he is my other half,” he emphasized. Was he making this worse? Yes, yes he was. Does he care in the slightest? No he does fucking not. He’s been wanting to let loose some of those words out for quite some time, albeit it’s under an illusion that he’s just riling him up, but damn does it feel good to say.

Before the lemur could leap back up a charge at him once more another force came into play.

“Having fun without me!” Shun felt a pain burst from his back as he saw a pig tailed girl leaped off of him with blood dripping from her sword. “That is a damn shame.”

“I had this handled you know,” Monkey King petulantly said.

“Oh I know,” she slings her sword over her shoulder, “but I really wanted to land a hit on this bastard at least once for what he did to Pops.”

“Fair enough.”

“Another child!” He said with glee despite his broken bones and blood dripping down his face.

“He is seriously messed up in the head,” she muttered as she couldn’t help but step back at his gaze though she did raise a brow as Wukong stepped beside her while he kept his eyes on the lemur.

“Okay fuck this, I’m ending it,” Macaque huffed as he stepped forward.

“Actually Dad, can I do this,” he paused at his son's words as his eyes were locked firmly onto the agitated lemur.

“MK, I’m not about to let you-” he was cut off.

“Please,” he pleaded as his brown eyes flickered to violet ones.

“…fine, but if things are looking bad then I will step the fuck in,” he huffed as he subtly sent some more shadow clones in the foliage of trees and amongst his son's shadow.

“Oh don’t worry,” he began to spin his staff as he walked forward. “I won’t even need to leave your line of sight when I get done with him.”

MK continued forward as he neared the lemur, passing by both Mei and Wukong who gave him a glance.

“I’m ending this,” he simply said.

“You need help?” The dragon's successor looked to her brother.

“Nope,” said the doctor's son.

“Well holler if you do.”

“Always happy to lend a hand,” the Monkey Sage joked as he wiped off his own bloody hand. He wouldn’t mind another round of beating to the lemur…maybe a couple more just to be fair.

“Oh trust me, I won’t,” he darkly chuckled, which surprised the other two.

MK was done with Shun, he was already creeped out before he met him, disgusted by the letter, nauseated when he first saw him, and down right pissed when he heard him speak to his Dad like that.

It was time for his Dad to be protected for once instead of the other way around. Shun is gonna regret ever breathing by the time they're done with him.

Shun's eyes lit up when he saw MK approach. “It so good to see you for the first ti-”

“Shut the fuck up,” he cut him off.

“Wha-”

“I said shut the fuck up.”

“…excuse me?”

“You're not excused,” he shrugged his shoulder.

“That is no way to talk to your parent-” he was interrupted once more.

“Well it’s a good thing that you aren’t then isn’t it, I mean if you were then I would willingly go back to my deadbeat sperm donors than you,” he mocked him.

“I’m sorry what?!” Wukong was already taken by surprise by his student's sudden shift in attitude, let alone this new heaping pile of info.

“That’s a whole nother story for later,” Mac patted his shoulder.

“But here’s what’s gonna happen, you will either die in this forest or flee from here by the skin of your teeth,” he bluntly stated.

“Oh? And what makes you say that?” He let some amusement drip in his voice.

“Have you not seen the entities that live in this forest?”

“Indeed I have and they are truly a magnificent feature, but they are no match for me,” he arrogantly said.

“…hey Red! I thought you said he was smart?” He yelled out to the tree he had previously jumped from.

“Smart as in he knows some pretty advanced science that even leaves me confused,” the Bull prince said as sat down on the branch next to an anticipating bluenette.

“Oh, well that makes sense, cause if you were really smart then you wouldn’t have even stepped foot in this forest with the intent to kill, even Ever is dangerous despite his looks,” he concluded. Ignoring the faint chuckle from the trees.

“What is that supposed to mean?” He got increasingly agitated at the despairing remark upon his intelligence.

“It means that you have an overinflated ego stuff in between your ears that replaced your brain a long time ago.”

“Meaning?”

“If you had any brain cells then you would have known that you signed your name personally upon Yama book when you stepped foot in this forest, cause let me tell you.” It was at this point that the pressure began to dip as Shun suddenly felt like he couldn’t breathe as the trees seemed to loom above him and glowing eyes were gazing upon him from the shadows. “You would have known that we don’t take kindly to people trying to harm our own, especially Dad.”

One by one, the demon, creatures, mythical and animals alike all began to emerge from the shadows with a nasty snarl fresh on their faces.

The Faeries' smiles were sharp with their fanged teeth wide with glee.

Qianglu slithered forward as they let out a terrifying hiss that thrummed in his ears.

The Monkey tribe all had their teeth bared in face of the intruder.

The Shui Gui was grinning happily as he licked his lips in anticipation.

Ní elegantly walked forward as her tails flickered behind her, but her hazel eyes only had sight for the prey.

Even amongst the trees BaBa, much too large to entirely fit in the clearing, kept her bright yellow eye, larger than all the beings in the area itself, gazed upon the scene.

As more and more beasts gathered around, for the first time in a long while, Shun felt fear.

“Welcome to the neighborhood,” MK casually slung the staff over his shoulder as he gave him a parting wave, “Let us show you how we handle intruders.”

Shun ran and ran and ran as fast and as hard as he could. But they followed.

And then he slowly vanished back into the woods as all the creatures that he thought were prey were the predators chasing after him. He really did forget that not creatures show who they truly are at first look, they like to pretend their fickle little insects that scatter at first sight of danger. But if you take a peek beneath the shell then it turns out that there are monsters lurking underneath with their jaws wide awaiting their first morsel.

So, he didn’t leave with a grand finale nor his deserved epic fight to the death. No, he simply blew out like a candle amongst a sea of lights cause in the end he knew what he really was.

Not the feared predator.

No, he was the prey and it was his turn to be feasted upon the monsters.

“Well that was easy,” Yanyu said as she jumped down from the tree.

“You're telling me,” said Red as he followed, then he turned to MK, “Who is Ever anyways?”

MK snapped out of his former personality shift as his cheeks blushed, “It’s Shui Gui, you know, Kappa.”

“Right, right, but what does it stand for?” He pushed, “cause you wouldn’t be blushing like that if there wasn’t something else.”

Mei turned her head to hide her smile.

“It..it stands for Whatever,” he whispered, but Wukong still heard that perfectly clear.

“His name is Whatever?” He confusedly asked for such a strange name.

“I was like seven! You can’t blame me!” He defended himself with arms crossed.

“Huh?”

“Ah the Shui Gui cares not for names,” Red nodded, “so he usually will respond to any. My question is why did you call him whatever out of everything?”

Yanyu snorted loudly.

“I was a kid and I was getting really frustrated with him that I blurted out the first thing in mind! How was I supposed to know that he would actually respond to it! Now he won’t let it go!” He threw his hands up.

At this point both girls are full on laughing at MK's frustration.

“Yeah, that sounds about right,” the prince nodded at his various times meeting Kappa. He was indeed the strangest creature in the forest.

“I’m lost,” Wukong deadpanned.

“Don’t worry, I’ll tell you later,” Mac said as he leaned into the simian. It felt good finally having that bastard out of sight once again.

Wukong did the same as he wrapped his arms back around the other monkey, pulled him a bit closer, and wrapped his tail firmly around the other waist. “You better,” he faintly purred in his ears.

Macaque could barely stop the shiver at the lips so close to his face, but he managed to make it off by just shifting his body to get into a comfortable position.

Though that didn’t stop the Sage from gazing at him as he looked at his long fur once more and just when he was about to open his mouth.

BOOM!

“Alright! Whose ass am I kicking!” Daiyu screeched out as she scanned the scene for the ex boyfriend from hell. They had gotten a call from Yanyu earlier about his ass potentially showing up and they booked it there.

“God fucking Damnit,” Wukong cursed as he reluctantly move slightly away.

“He appears to not be here, Dai,” said Ahmed as he walked into the clearing with Minsheng and Bohai.

“Seemed he had left the coop,” chuckled Sheng as they looked towards everyone, “gave him a good ass kicking I'm guessing.”

“That and he is now currently running from almost every beast in the forest,” MK happily said.

Bohai gave a low whistle, “So he’s not leaving this forest alive then.”

“Nope,” came the response from all.

“That’s what he gets for messing with the King of the Forest,” Mei jokes, earning a groan from Mac.

“Don’t you even start on that.”

“What do you mean your royal highness,” the rabbit cheekily said.

“Don’t!”

“Is there something wrong your majesty,” the vulture said.

“Are you actually-”

“Did we speak out of your magnificence,” Yanyu mockingly bowed.

“Out of place your grace,” Mei courtesy with a sly grin.

“Out of turn your excellency,” MK did something with his hands as he bowed low.

“I swear-”

“Guys let’s all calm down before we get on our imperial majesty's last nerve,” Red casually said.

“Thank you-I swear to all things!”

“Our deepest of apologies your kingliness,” Wukong teased as he pressed closer to him.

“I expected nothing less from you,” he barked at him.

“Alright let’s all settle down,” Ahmed chuckled, “we don’t want to get his reverence too worked up.”

“…fuck it, I’m done for the day!” He threw his hands up and began to march back home. “If any of you guys want food then your ass better be helping me do some shit. It either helps me in the kitchen or checks on the state of the forest, more specifically how everything and everyone is holding up. Preferably the ones going are the ones that don’t mind fighting cause there’s gonna be a lot of those bastards still on edge and need to let loose some steam.”

“Yes, dinner sounds great right about now,” Daiyu said as she spread her wings and took off.

“Count me in!” Minsheng said as they began to hop into the forest.

“Same!” Mei yelled as she raced after them.

“Let me just check in on my gremlins and I will for sure help you out in the kitchen,” Yanyu replied as she took out her phone.

“I wouldn’t mind seeing what else lives in this forest,” Wukong said as he stretched his arms.

“I’ll help you Dad,” MK said as Ahmed followed close behind.

Red Son stood there as the other began to walk away with a bit of uncertainty before Macaque called back to him.

“Are you coming or not?”

“Wait me too?” Red said with some hesitation.

“If I’m letting those lunatics join in then why not,” he raised his brow.

Red gave a slight smile as he caught up and walked beside MK, “What are we making?”

“Mapo Tofu,” said the young adult.

“Will there be any spicy?”

“He has a whole tray filled with them,” MK can almost taste it.

“Yes!”

Also a shout out to Pen-Woman for the lovely idea of Protective kiddos!!

Also longest chapter yet!!! Just over 8000 words!!!

#lego monkie kid #six eared macaque #macaque #mk #lmk mei #monkey king #PlumTeaAU

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une-nuit-pour-se-souvenir · 3 years

Text

random thoughts on jon connington’s chapters

The last time I read this was over four years and I had a different take on Aegon, so I was curious to see on what changed with a second read.

----

The Lost Lord ~ ADWD

Sansa and Aegon

Alayne II (Sansa II) ~ AFFC

When Robert dies, Harry the Heir becomes Lord Harrold, Defender of the Vale and Lord of the Eyrie. Jon Arryn's bannermen will never love me, nor our silly, shaking Robert, but they will love their Young Falcon . . . and when they come together for his wedding, and you come out with your long auburn hair, clad in a maiden's cloak of white and grey with a direwolf emblazoned on the back . . . why, every knight in the Vale will pledge his sword to win you back your birthright."

The Lost Lord ~ ADWD

"We have gone to great lengths to keep Prince Aegon hidden all these years," Lemore reminded him. "The time will come for him to wash his hair and declare himself, I know, but that time is not now. Not to a camp of sellswords." (...)

"The plan was to reveal Prince Aegon only when we reached Queen Daenerys," Lemore was saying." (...)

The prince wore sword and dagger, black boots polished to a high sheen, a black cloak lined with blood-red silk. With his hair washed and cut and freshly dyed a deep, dark blue, his eyes looked blue as well. At his throat he wore three huge square-cut rubies on a chain of black iron, a gift from Magister Illyrio. Red and black. Dragon colors. That was good. "You look a proper prince," he told the boy. (...)

Sansa and Aegon are supposed to reveal themselves by washing the dye out of their hair and wearing their house colours, in an event that involves a wedding with someone that will facilitate claiming their birthright.

However, Aegon said “fuck that bitch Danerys” and getting married, revealed himself somewhat (to the Golden Company higher-ups only) wearing his house colours and went back to Westeros to reclaim his birthright on his own, unware that his cousin from his mother’s side is coming to him to offer aid in the war.. Aegon washing his hair of the blue dye and doning his armour will only happen wieh he sets foot in Westeros.

Likewise, we can draw a parallel scenario for Sansa and considering the “Sansa is grey girl who flees from a marriage” it all fits, Like Aegon, Sansa syas “fuck that bitch blonde Bobby B Harry and getting married, like Aegon she wears a grey cloak, and like Aegon she’ll be meeting her cousin and eventually claim her birthright.

I somehow doubt Sansa will be getting an army that soon, but in the show she got the Wildlings (via Jon, who can be seen as “sellsword” type of warriors) and the Vale army. In the books, there’s the mountain clans both in the Vale (loyal to Tyrion, whom she’s married to) and the north mountain clans (those that protected Bran because he is Ned’s son and joined Stannis also because of Ned and his daughter).

Another thing of note is Aegon ended up cutting his hair but dyed blue once more, so this may be true for Sansa as well. She may cut it shorter (a parallel to her sister Arya as well) but keep dying it for awhile still. Such, she may reach the Wall and meet Jon as a brunette (a parallel to Jeyne Poole as well as Alys Karstark). ETA: Likewise Aegon only revealing himself by washing his hair and doning his armour when he invades Westeros (his birthright), Sansa may only wash her hair and done her armour when the northern campaign starts.

Regardless, This is a smart choice because...

Cersei IV ~ ADWD

The queen bristled. "I most certainly have not forgotten that little she-wolf." She refused to say the girl's name. "I ought to have shown her to the black cells as the daughter of a traitor, but instead I made her part of mine own household. She shared my hearth and hall, played with my own children. I fed her, dressed her, tried to make her a little less ignorant about the world, and how did she repay me for my kindness? She helped murder my son. When we find the Imp, we will find the Lady Sansa too. She is not dead . . . but before I am done with her, I promise you, she will be singing to the Stranger, begging for his kiss."

The Lost Lord ~ ADWD

"His because they're bought and paid for. Ten thousand armed strangers, plus hangers-on and camp followers. All it takes is one to bring us all to ruin. If Hugor's head was worth a lord's honors, how much will Cersei Lannister pay for the rightful heir to the Iron Throne? You do not know these men, my lord. It has been a dozen years since you last rode with the Golden Company, and your old friend is dead."

Cersei’s attention on Aegon is also a parallel to Cersei’s attention to Sansa, interestingly enough Tyrion is mentioned in both instances. Cersei’s attention on Sansa also come attached with the “singing the Stranger for a kiss”, which is interesting because if “Sansa is the Grey Girl” theory holds to, the guy she’s running to for protection is in fact.... dead or close to (the Stranger is their god and in the show... the episode was aplty named, the Book of the Stranger).

The bells tolled for all of us that day. For Aerys and his queen, for Elia of Dorne and her little daughter, for every true man and honest woman in the Seven Kingdoms. And for my silver prince. (...)

He had grown fond of Lemore, but that did not mean he required her approval. Her task had been to instruct the prince in the doctrines of the Faith, and she had done that. No amount of prayer would put him on the Iron Throne, however. That was Griff's task. He had failed Prince Rhaegar once. He would not fail his son.

Let me live long enough to see the boy sit the Iron Throne, and Varys will pay for that slight and so much more. Then we'll see who's soon forgotten.

I grant that the obsession that Jon Connington has for Rhaegar Targaryen is milder and more honourable, compared to the obsession Littlefinger has for Catelyn Tully, but the fact is this is yet another parallel between Sansa and Aegon. They both have mentors with an unhealthy obsession with one of their parents and hate the other, which they project onto the kids. Last, but not least, both mentors are passing off as parents of the children while they remain disguised under a false indentiy.

However, as Sansa will have to run from Littlefinger’s toxic shadow, I suspect Aegon will do much the same. I have suspicions. Sansa escaped Littlefinger because of Jon, as he took the role of protection. No matter how people see the ship, the fact is Jon is a lot like Ned V2 (at least, that’s how Littlefinger will see it and he hated the man) but the truth is Jon is Ned’s nephew and Sansa’s cousin from his mother’s side.

Likewise, Aegon is about to meet Arianne Martell, who’s the niece of his mother Elia Martell, which makes them cousins from his mother’s side. Elia Martell, whom Jon Connington... hates, often speculated in fact that he was in love with Rhaegar Targaryen himself. The symmetry of all this, not only the mentor’s obsession with the children but also the love / hate hey have for their parents.

Connington’s wish to see Aegon crowned and the giant chip he has on his shoulder for not being recognised. For the former, I have not found any reference to Littlefinger wanting to sit the Iron Throne in the books, but this was basically his goal in the show. To be king with Sansa by his side. For the latter, well that’s the drive of his character, he’s a social climber seeking recognition.

Sansa VII ~ ASOS

I will tell my aunt that I don't want to marry Robert. Not even the High Septon himself could declare a woman married if she refused to say the vows. She wasn't a beggar, no matter what her aunt said. She was thirteen, a woman flowered and wed, the heir to Winterfell.

The Lost Lord ~ ADWD

"Why should I go running to my aunt [implied marriage] as if I were a beggar? My claim is better than her own. Let her come to me … in Westeros."

Eh. Same energy. They are not beggars and they know their birthright, they will not be forced to marry someone they don’t want to to facilitate it.

----

TL;DR: I think these concurrence between Sansa and Aegon suggest that Aegon is real, but also glimpse into their characters beyond their toxic mentors and their ascencion to power. It will be interesting to watch their common points in future events, even if by the fact that they’re different genders and that makes PLENTY of difference in ASOIAF.

Jon and Aegon

Jon II ~ ASOS

A few tents were still standing on the far side of the camp, and it was there they found Mance Rayder. Beneath his slashed cloak of black wool and red silk he wore black ringmail and shaggy fur breeches, and on his head was a great bronze-and-iron helm with raven wings at either temple. Jarl was with him, and Harma the Dogshead; Styr as well, and Varamyr Sixskins with his wolves and his shadowcat.

The Lost Lord ~ ADWD

I personally ignored Aegon because I started with the show and didn’t know he was a (living) character until I read the books. I wasn’t even all that convinced he’d be particularly important. So I always looked at Jon’s interactions with Mance (associated with black + red) as "preparation” for Jon’s internactions with Daniella.

Hoewver, that changed when show!Cersei took over some of book!Aegon role: sitting on the Iron Throne, the Golden Company, and loved over Daniella in the last to final episode. It seems to me now that Mance can also (at the very least if not all) be seen as “preparation” for Jon’s interactions Aegon. As said, Mance dresss in a black and red cloak which associates him with Targs, the cloak being “copied” by Aegon. Mance united the notorious “give no fucks about authority) wildlings under one idea (run from the Others), while Aegon united a sellsword compay (sellswords are untrustworthty).

Moreover, it’s my conviction that Jon and Aegon are probably going to war against each other for a time (this is illustrated by what I believe are their respective dragons and a natural consequence if Aegon sits in King’s Landing while the Starks declare Northern Indepdencen), until they sommehow make peace (in case of Mance and Jon it was because of the Others, but for Jon and Aegon it could be their fire counterart, Danerys).

TL;DR: I think these vague connections between Mance and Aegon are rather interesting and may be “preparation” for Jon and Aegon’s intereactons will involve war AND peace. Interestingly, Connington’s next chapter feaures battle.

#aegon vi targaryen

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lifeofkaze · 3 years

Text

October Writing Challenge 2021 - Day 5

Zadie Taylor-Allen belongs to my wonderful bestie @the-al-chemist, Farid Sikander (in mention) belongs to @carewyncromwell

Dedicated to the wine club @kc-and-oc @the-al-chemist @whatwouldvalerydo You know why🌻🌻🌻

It was common knowledge that time moved slower when one wasn’t enjoying themselves, but Reva Amari had never felt the truth of it more ardently than on this sunny winter afternoon. It had snowed the night before, and the grounds of Hogwarts were covered in a thick layer of perfectly white, powdery snow.

Reva could hear the screams and laughter from the other students enjoying themselves in the wintery wonderland through the high windows of the dusty library. She thought wistfully about her new snowboard waiting for her in her dormitory; how much fun would it be to pile up some of the snow and just whisk down the makeshift mound on it. She would even settle for throwing snowballs at the Slytherin Quidditch team; she wasn’t picky at all, as long as it got her out of this lifeless, boring library.

“Reva, concentrate,” the voice of her friend and honourary older sister Danielle broke her out of her musings. “You need to pass this test with flying colours if you don’t want to get taken off the Quidditch team.”

“I know,” Reva sighed deeply. “Give me some credit for trying.”

“I don’t see you trying that hard,” her brother Dylan jumped in. He didn’t even bother raising his eyes from his book about Potions, but he didn’t need to; he knew Reva was rolling her eyes at him without looking.

“It’s not my fault History of Magic is the most boring subject in existence,” Reva complained. “I don’t even know how you manage to stay awake during class.”

“I don’t,” Dylan said flatly, “I get Dana’s notes from the year before.”

Reva opened her mouth to protest but shut it again when she saw the withering glare of the librarian directed her way. “What are you lecturing me about then,” she hissed with a lowered voice, “you’re no better than me.”

“The best notes don’t help if you don’t put the work in to memorise them,” Dana said leniently. “You can have them as well, but that alone won’t do you no good.”

“I need someone to make this more interesting. Right now, this nonsense is drier than the desert,” Reva complained. “Maybe I could ask Farid for help?”

Dylan did look up from his book at her words. “You’re going to do no such thing,” he said with a surprising sharpness in his voice.

Reva smirked at having successfully gotten under her brother’s skin; served him just right. She wanted to tell him so, but was cut short when an enchanted piece of parchment fluttered into her view and landed before her on her textbook.

Curious, Reva picked it up and unfolded it; she recognised the handwriting of her best friend Zadie immediately. The note contained only two words:

Code Sunflower

Next to her, Dana leaned over to take a look; she frowned. “Code Sunflower? What’s that supposed to mean?”

Reva didn’t reply; she was busy stuffing her things into her bag as fast as she could. She was halfway up from her seat when Dana got hold of her arm. “We’re not done here. I’m your prefect and your friend, and I promised to make sure you’ll pass that test,” she said sternly.

“I know, I’ll do it tomorrow, promise,” Reva said hurriedly and gently freed her arm from Dana’s hand. “But this is kind of an emergency.”

Before either Dana or Dylan could say anything else, Reva snatched up her bag and quickly left the library. She made a short detour to the Gryffindor Tower to drop off her things and retrieve some others from her dormitory before she made her way up to the Astronomy Tower. It was one of Zadie’s favourite places and if she was troubled, chances were good she would be there.

As it turned out, Reva had been right. She found her best friend leaned against the wooden railing running around the platform that circled the highest tower of the castle. She was bundled up in a thick coat and her blue-and-bronze Ravenclaw scarf to counter the sharp winds up here. Reva stuffed her own crimson-and-gold scarf deeper into her jacket and buried her hands in her pockets as she stood next to Zadie.

“You were quick,” Zadie said with a small smile.

“It’s Code Sunflower,” Reva replied, “you don’t make someone wait when it’s Code Sunflower.”

“I suppose so,” Zadie sighed and fell silent. A troubled expression crossed her face and Reva waited for her to continue. When she didn’t, Reva nudged her gently into the side.

“Do you want to tell me what happened?” she asked gently.

Zadie looked out over the snowy grounds and extended her hand. A lone snowflake floated down from the grey sky and landed on her palm. Both girls watched as it slowly melted and left only a tiny puddle of water behind.

“I had Potions earlier,” Zadie said eventually.

“The worst,” Reva said immediately, but fell silent when Zadie gave her a look. “Sorry, go on.”

“You know I’m no good at Potions,” she sighed, “but I was really trying today. But I still messed up. I added the shrivelfig before the valerian sprigs, and all the wrong amounts, too. I don’t know how it happened, my head was somewhere else. My potion started expanding and flowed over the cauldron and the workbench and literally everywhere. It was a disaster.”

“Oh no,” Reva said sympathetically, “that can happen to the best of us, though.”

“I know,” Zadie said passionately, “but that’s not what the professor seemed to think. He was so mad at me. ‘I’m clearly teaching the worse Taylor-Allen girl’ were his words to be exact.”

Zadie sniffed ever so slightly and a wave of righteous anger flooded Reva. How did that old bugger dare talk to Zadie like that? Only because her grades weren’t as perfect as those of her older sister, it didn’t mean Zadie was stupid, or untalented, or anything else but a fantastic witch.

“Screw him,” Reva said fiercely, “he has no idea what he’s talking about. So what, you don’t have a straight O in Potions like Phoebe does. Neither do I. Neither do Dylan or Dana or Victoire. The only person I know who did is Dana’s mum, if I think about it. But that doesn’t mean we don’t know what we’re doing, or makes us stupid or anything like that. Don’t you dare think this even for a second or I’ll give you an earful. You’re brilliant, and talented and great, just in a different way than Phoebe.”

She saw the small smile forming on Zadie’s face and Reva continued. “I very much doubt Phoebe would have been able to block my throws as annoyingly well as you did in our last housematch. That really hurt my pride, you know.”

Zadie threw her head back and laughed, the sound ringing clear into the winter sky. “You’d have transported her right through the hoop. If she had managed to stay on her broom in the first place.”

Reva grinned. “That’s my girl talking.”

She reached into her pocket and produced a small, silver flask she offered to her friend. Zadie raised an eyebrow sceptically. “Do I want to know where you got that from?”

“A gift from my godmother,” Reva laughed, “she sent it over the other day.”

“You know that’s probably 100 % forbidden,” Zadie grinned as she took the flask from Reva and took a small swig.

“I have a reputation to uphold after all,” Reva smirked and took a sip herself. The coffee liqueur burned delightfully and was much milder than she had anticipated. She immediately felt a little warmer.

“Speaking of which,” Reva said slowly, while she furtively pushed the snow on the railing in front of her together, “try blocking this.”

She quickly gathered up the snowball she’d formed and threw it at Zadie. Before Zadie could even react, it had hit her square in the face and Reva couldn’t help but laugh at her friend’s dumbfounded expression.

“You didn’t do that for nothing,” Zadie exclaimed before gathering her own load of snow from the ground and throwing it after Reva, who just so managed to duck away from it.

The sky was already darkening when they made their way down from the Astronomy Tower, drenched, shivering and with their faces feeling like they were on fire.

Reva’s cheeks were still flushed from both the cold and the coffee liqueur when she dropped into her seat next to Dana and Dylan in the Great Hall for dinner. Dana looked her up and down with an amused expression, taking in her dishevelled state.

“Is your emergency solved?”

“You could say so, yes,” Reva smiled and helped herself to some deliciously warm soup. She shuddered when she warmed her hands over the steaming bowl.

“Wonderful, just in time to study with me after dinner,” Dana continued. She laughed when Reva pulled a face. “Sorry kiddo, I’m not letting you off the hook so easily. And there won’t be another cryptic message getting you out of this one.”

Dana’s expression turned curious. “What was it about anyway?”

Reva blew against her spoon and winced when she burned her tongue. “It was a message from Zadie.”

“Naturally,” Dylan muttered from the other side of the table, but Reva and Dana both paid him no mind.

“Code Sunflower is when you’re feeling troubled because someone said something stupid and you need to vent,” Reva explained before trying her soup a second time. It warmed her even better than the liqueur had.

Dana blinked at her in surprise. “Why sunflowers, though? They are lovely.”

Reva dipped her head back and laughed at the memory of how they had come up with that code in the first place.

“Trust me,” she giggled, “you don’t want to know.”

#hpma #magic awakened #harry potter magic awakened #reva amari #zadie taylor allen #october writing challenge 2021 #october writing challenge

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cheri-translates · 4 years

Text

[CN] Victor’s Magnificent Date (Eng Translation)

🍒 Warning: This post contains detailed spoilers for a squeal-inducing date which has not been released in English servers! 🍒

There’s a phone call that comes BEFORE the date: here

Valentine’s 2020 Collection: Gavin // Kiro // Lucien

The date begins with MC sitting alone in a café. The temperature is incredibly hot, and the fragrance of roses is in the air.

She’s on a video call with Anna, who very helpfully establishes the context for us - Victor brought MC to South America to participate in the Rose Festival as a “reward” for completing an assignment the previous year.

It’s MC’s final day in this foreign country, and she wants to make full use of it.

Anna notes that MC’s complexion doesn’t look good. MC looks at herself in the screen and realizes that she indeed looks paler than usual. She says the weather is too warm, so she feels a little faint.

Anna is still worried about MC as she remembers how MC did quite a lot of overtime before leaving for the vacation. MC tells Anna to hide this matter from Victor.

Anna: You haven’t…

Anna stops abruptly, her eyes looking at something behind me. Having a bad feeling, I turn around.

Finished with his video-conference, Victor walks down the stairs towards me, wearing his usual suit.

He stands behind me, his eyes sweeping over the phone screen on the table before raising an eyebrow.

Victor: What are you hiding from me?

Anna ends the call.

MC: Your meeting is over?

I flash Victor a wide smile, forcefully changing the topic.

Victor: It ended earlier than expected.

Victor doesn’t press further. He loosens his tie. I realise that there is a thin layer of sweat on his forehead.

MC: You didn’t have to rush over. Don’t you feel warm dressed like that?

Victor: It’s still okay.

He lifts the small luggage beside me, then picks up the sun hat on the table and places it on my head.

Victor: There are still a few hours before the event starts. That “Travel Guide” you did on the plane can be put to use now.

I widen my eyes and look at him from underneath my hat.

MC: How did you know about that? I thought I did it covertly…

Victor: What do you think? Of course I saw it.

MC: So you weren’t sleeping at all!

Hearing my “accusation”, Victor glances at me, his tone slightly teasing.

Victor: Someone’s soliloquy woke me up.

MC: Since you know about it… leave the rest to me. Let’s set out towards the Rose Festival!

Ignoring the discomfort in my body, I raise a fist in the air in high spirits.

There is a look of resignation in Victor’s eyes, but the corners of his lips are dyed with the warmth of sunlight, hooking upwards into a slight smile.

Victor: I shall wait and see then.

They go for a walk:

MC: I heard the Rose Festival has been around for a few hundred years!

I look at the flower baskets sold along the streets, and I feel like getting one.

MC: On this day, the men will invite their other half to dance. They will find the “most beautiful rose” during the event, and he will present it to her with a lover’s kiss. Isn’t it very romantic?

I share what I had read up online. Victor listens to me quietly, his thin lips pursing into a nice smile.

Victor: You did your homework.

MC: Of course I did! You specially accompanied me here, so of course I’d want you to have a memorable experience!

Victor: Haven’t you gotten it the other way round?

My grand ambition is suddenly interrupted. Victor takes the small slip of paper containing our travel plans from me and puts it into his breast pocket.

Victor: This is my “reward” to you. All you have to do is enjoy this trip.

Amid the unique architecture of this foreign country, Victor’s eyes seem to become more tender. It gives me the sudden urge to capture and record this moment.

MC: Victor, I’ll help you take a photograph?

I lift the camera that is hanging around my neck and point it towards him.

MC: Cooperate and give me a smile! I’ll shout “three, two, one”, and you say “pudding”!

To my surprise, Victor frowns.

Victor: Why pudding?

MC: Because I feel you wouldn’t shout “brinjal”… Or else you could use another word?

The crease in between Victor’s eyebrows smoothens out. He nods.

MC: Have you thought about it? I’m going to take the shot now! Three, two, one-

Victor: Dummy.

When I press the shutter, I hear Victor’s soft yet clear voice.

In the picture, Victor has a small smile on his face.

My heart rate suddenly accelerates. I lift my head to respond with a retort, but a sudden wave of weakness floods my entire body.

The blazing sun makes me feel especially dizzy.

MC: I…

The camera almost slips from my hands. I sway for a moment before falling into Victor’s arms, and he realises something is amiss.

In my flustered state, I see anxiety written on Victor’s face. I open my mouth, trying my best to form words.

MC: Victor, I don’t feel very well…

The hotel room separates us from the blazing noon sun. I am seated on the bed, my head slightly hazy from heatstroke. The ceiling fan spins slowly, dispelling the heat in the air.

This room that Victor managed to book at short notice has been decorated with several rose-related ornaments because of the Rose Festival.

The rose petals which were originally on the bed have been scattered all around, adding a touch of fragrance to the humid air.

The sound of the door being knocked cuts me off from my thoughts.

After half a second, I hear the sound of the door being unlocked. Victor walks in, carrying a grocery bag.

Victor: How do you feel now?

MC: I feel much better after taking the medicine.

To ease his worries, I summon my strength to give him a smile.

MC: Though we’d probably have to miss the Rose Festival…

Victor: You’re still thinking about that?

Victor puts the bag on the table. He walks over and presses his hand against my forehead. I relish the coolness of his touch.

Victor: Your temperature has gone down, but you still need to rest.

After checking on my condition, he draws his hand back. He removes his outer suit and places it at the side of the bed. Then, he returns to the table and takes out the items from the bag.

MC: What did you buy?

Victor: Ingredients. It’s more appropriate for you to eat milder foods.

Victor’s back is facing me. I see that the back of his shirt is drenched with sweat. I bite my lower lip, my heart suddenly feeling lighter.

MC: I’m not that hungry actually. Just getting something from the hotel would be fine.

Victor: It’s so rare that we’re here. You want to eat those kinds of things?

Victor turns to toss me a glance, directly rejecting my idea.

MC: Then… at least take a break first?

Victor: No need. You should sleep for a while.

Victor walks into the small kitchenette with the ingredients, and the sound of splashing water follows. Hearing him cook, I start smiling.

I’m unable to sleep peacefully in my current state. Something horrifying is chasing me in my dream, causing me to scrunch up my eyebrows.

MC: Uhh… don’t go!

In a moment of peril, I grab onto something that gives me a sense of assurance, and refuse to let go.

Victor: Dummy.

A familiar sigh travels to my ear, enabling my tense self to relax. I enter a deep sleep.

An unknown duration passes before I regain consciousness. My body feels like it is being enveloped, and I’m unable to move.

I struggle to open my eyes, but all I see is a patch of skin.

MC: !!

I widen my eyes instantly, my drowsiness vanishing completely-

Victor is also lying on the bed, his arms encasing me tightly, taking an afternoon nap.

I am leaning in the crook of his neck and am able to see his chin if I look upwards. I feel his steady, gentle breathing - like a single feather - on my ear.

My brain short circuits and I have no idea how the scene before me occurred - until I see how my fingers are tightly wound around Victor’s tie.

While I was dreaming, I had pulled on Victor’s tie, which in turn tugged his shirt open as well, revealing his bare chest.

I control my eyes before they can trail further downwards, and immediately let go of the tie.

Perhaps disturbed by this movement, Victor frowns, his eyelashes twitching under the light.

I shut my eyes, pretending that I’m still asleep.

The body that is pressed against mine shifts slightly with a rustle. The sound of Victor’s breathing seems to change.

He weaves a hand through my hair, his slender fingers gently sliding along the strands. Every minute movement faithfully travels to the ends of my nerves.

I don’t dare to move even the slightest inch. Feeling nervous, my temperature rises, and I feel my back break out in a thin layer of sweat.

The hand resting on my body shifts. Our close proximity makes it easy to visualise even the slightest movement in my mind.

Victor: Why are you sweating so much?

His low voice is tinged with slight suspicion. I’m wondering if I should open my eyes at this moment, but Victor’s palm ends up on my back.

The sudden contact makes me want to quiver, but I suppress my body’s instinctive response.

Fortunately, Victor retracts his hand. He slowly extricates his wrist from under me.

The body warmth suddenly vanishes, leaving me feeling slightly dejected. Soon, the sound of running water can be heard from the bathroom.

MC: Huff…

I release a long breath and open my eyes slowly.

Victor is no longer in the room, but the parts of my skin that he had touched feel as though they are on fire. My heart rate is unable to settle down.

The sound of running water stops. When I see Victor walking out, I shut my eyes once again.

The spot next to me on the bed sinks. Victor sits at the side of the bed, picking out a few strands of hair from my face.

Victor: MC? Are you awake?

MC: Uh…

I pretend to swipe his hands away blearily, but he continues placing the back of his hand against the side of my cheek.

Victor: Why has your temperature gone up again?

He draws his hand back, replacing his warmth with a wet towel. He gently wipes off the sweat on my temples.

Even though I know that he is genuinely helping me lower my temperature, I am completely unable to control my own senses.

The soft towel trails down my neck. Victor’s fingers unintentionally brush against my lower neck, causing me to tremble slightly.

A bead of sweat trickles off my face, sliding down my neck and disappearing into my hair.

Victor pauses. I squeeze my eyes shut, but my eyelids twitch uneasily.

It’s as though my body has decided to go against me in every way. At this moment, my stomach releases a string of low growls.

MC: …

Quiet air flows in the room. I remain stiffly in position, not moving at all.

Victor: You’re awake?

My eyelashes twitch, but I still don’t dare to open my eyes.

Victor lets out a low laugh, then leans over slowly. I sense a large shadow looming over me through my eyelids, and I stop breathing.

Victor: How much longer will you pretend to be asleep?

MC: I… I’m awake.

Seeing that I can no longer put up this pretence, I open my eyes slightly and watch as Victor straightens up.

Victor: If you’re awake, get up and have something to eat.

After a late lunch, MC notes to herself that even though they can’t go for the Rose Festival, spending time together alone with Victor is not bad either.

She notices that there is a bottle of red wine on a low shelf, and that it doesn’t have a label.

Victor: You still want to drink after having a heatstroke?

Victor’s sudden voice from behind gives me a fright.

MC: I was just curious… did you buy this bottle just now? Why doesn’t it have a label?

Victor: It’s home brewed wine from the Market Fair. It has a special flavour.

MC: Special? Was it brewed by some famous master?

Victor: Not a master. Didn’t you want to find the “most beautiful rose” earlier?

I fail to understand the meaning of his words, but Victor doesn’t continue explaining. He skilfully removes the oak stopper, pouring the rose-coloured wine into a glass.

Along with the scent of wine, a sweet-smelling aroma permeates the air. I can’t help but let out a deep sigh.

Victor arches an eyebrow, looking slightly surprised.

Victor: I didn’t know that people who suffer from a heatstroke would also experience a deterioration of smell.

I ignore his sarcasm, taking up the wine glass and swirling it in front of me. The faint aroma of flowers becomes even more obvious.

MC: It’s rose! So you can actually brew wine with roses?

Victor: It’s not made using roses, but it does taste like it.

MC: Can I try it?

Victor doesn’t respond immediately, but takes the glass from me before saying slowly:

Victor: No.

MC: Victor, CEO Victor, Mr Victor, please let me try it! My heatstroke is completely gone!

I lean towards Victor, but he raises the glass up high. Even if I were to tiptoe, I wouldn’t be able to reach it. So I can only huff and give up.

MC: Fine.

Victor: Wait till you…

MC: Just kidding!

Seeing Victor lower his guard, I jump and snatch the glass. Because of my unsteady footing, I end up lunging towards Victor.

Victor reacts immediately and steps backwards, forgetting that the bed is behind him.

After a chaos-filled second, Victor falls onto the bed heavily, bringing the scattered rose petals along with him.

I’m lying on him, my mind a complete blank, though my expression still displays cheekiness and excitement from snatching the glass earlier.

The glass of red wine that sparked off this entire situation has tumbled onto the bed, its contents spilling onto the covers and even soaking my hands.

I dumbfoundedly take in the scene before me as the scent of rose petals envelops us.

Victor, who is pressed below me, lets out a heavy sigh. Loose strands of hair casually fall in front of his eyes, making him look less sharp.

Victor: Didn’t I say that you can’t try it?

While he speaks, I can feel the vibration of his chest as we are pressed together tightly.

I regain my senses, my face beet red, wanting to straighten up.

Victor grabs hold of my wrist, and I fall back onto his chest.

Victor: You need to change your habit of running away whenever something happens.

His narrow eyes catch the change in my expression. His expression, while remaining the same as usual, makes me even more flustered.

Unlike his seemingly calm expression, he is unable to hide the heat emanating from his body and seeping through the thin fabric of his clothes. This causes my body to heat up as well.

The air seems to be burning, and I can hear my rapid heart rate. Even my voice wavers.

MC: I will change… next time.

Victor: I’ve heard this phrase many times.

The hand around my waist is like iron, pulling me even closer.

MC: This is an accident.

I explain in a small voice, letting my eyes shift everywhere aside from his face.

MC: I was just curious about the flavour…

Victor: You’re only allowed one sip.

MC: You said it yourself!

The scent of wine still wafts in the air, tinged with the fragrance of roses, making the atmosphere feel even warmer.

I bring my wine-soaked palm to my lips, gently licking it with the tip of my tongue.

A touch of sweetness spreads from my taste buds to my brain. The slight bitterness of wine carries with it a hint of a rose aroma. It has a surprising attractiveness.

Victor pauses. His eyes turn darker, and his voice sounds slightly husky.

Victor: …are you stupid?

Hearing this, I realise what I just did, and even my ears turn red.

MC: We’ve tasted the wine already, we...

Victor grips my wrist before I can escape again. With an irresistible pressure, he pulls me closer-

A drop of sweat trails down the side of my face and pelts onto his collarbone.

His Adam’s apple bobs, and he uses his other hand to loosen his tie in a slightly rough manner. He releases a low laugh.

Victor: Who says I’ve tried it?

With my guard down, he pulls my palm closer to himself and sticks out his tongue like I did earlier, gently licking the remaining red wine off my palm.

The rose-coloured liquid and the redness of the tip of his tongue makes this colour appear fresh, and even more dazzling, in my eyes.

My breathing and heartbeat seem to stop. I can only sense the touch on my palm, like electric currents coursing through my entire body.

While doing this, he keeps his eyes on me.

Trembling slightly under his gaze, another bead of sweat rolls off my temple. I want to escape, but I’m unable to hide from him.

The emotions within those deep eyes resemble surging tides.

Victor: The taste is not bad.

MC: [blushing] !!

I widen my eyes and pull my hand back as though I just touched a live wire. Victor doesn’t stop me this time, letting me hop up from the bed frantically, almost tripping over his feet.

Victor: Don’t be so reckless.

Victor reaches out to hold onto my waist, his low and husky voice in my ear.

MC: You…

Victor: The “most beautiful rose” is not just a literal rose.

He lowers his head and leans towards my ear, his lips almost pressing against it. I can barely concentrate on his words.

The curtains are drawn open, and the scene of the town shrouded in dusk appears before our eyes.

Victor: The sky is the most beautiful part of this town.

Following his words, I look up and my eyes widen in surprise.

MC: …it’s beautiful!

The rose-coloured sunset glows from the horizon. The clouds hang in the air, drifting slowly. Embedded in the sky, the clouds resemble waves from the sea.

The sky of this small town looks like a rose that is waiting to bloom.

Victor: In the evening, the colour of the red clouds look very special from here. This is the most beautiful rose I found.

His tender and low voice is in my ear, and I suddenly understand what Victor brought to me.

I originally wanted him to have a unique travel experience. I never thought that he would be the one giving me this rose-coloured sky in the end.

Victor embraces me against the window. The look in his eyes is even more tender than the red clouds.

Victor: Close your eyes.

I close my eyes obediently. A scorching breath gradually draws near, and a soft touch descends on my lips.

Victor places his hand on the back of my head, deepening the kiss.

His actions are gentle yet powerful. The intense stimulation spreads from the tip of his tongue all the way to my depths.

The fingers that gently brush the back of my spine leave a trail of tingles in their wake.

The hot air cools as the sun sets, but the temperature continues to increase along with the intertwining of our lips and tongues.

My senses are completely overtaken by Victor’s presence. His breathing, his tender licks, his arm encircling my waist, and the heartbeats from his chest…

After an inordinate amount of time, I tighten my grip on Victor’s arm, like a person who is about to lose consciousness and drown.

The faraway clouds, like a rose that has been waiting for a very long time, finally begins to bloom.

The curtains are pulled shut, and the room once again descends into a dim warmth.

An intense and rich floral fragrance slowly ferments in the blisteringly hot air.

🌹

Phone call after the date: here

#mlqc #mlqc cn #mlqc spoilers #mlqc victor #love and producer #the true OTP is Victor x his tie #truly inseparable

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secret-engima · 3 years

Note

Can we see some criminal reactions/meeting with the ringmaster? Possibly some big territory debate thing and some new upstart starts talking shit about this stupid ringmaster and all the rules?

Uhhh okay! Please note this may not be canon for Gremlin verse since atm I don't have any solid criminals-meet-Ringmaster scenes planned out aside from like- one and it's friendly.

-They're a new gang setting up shop near the docks. Imports from Mantle who finally got tired to dodging Atlas's security drones. They're traffickers of just about anything, from expensive but usually legal goods to drugs and people.

-They've been settled for maybe two weeks, just putting out some feelers, and are surprised when the local underworld gives one of two reactions: refusing to so much as speak with them, or nervous chuckling and a warning that if they keep being so obvious about what they do, they'll get the attention of the Ringmaster.

-"The Ringmaster? Who the heck is that?" Mantle's underworld might not be the thriving hub that Mistral's is, but they're not usually out of the loop. If the Ringmaster was a name for one of the local underworld bosses or kings, they should have heard of them before now.

-New blood, they're told by the few groups who will cautiously interact with them. New blood with power and charisma and Rules™. Rules that get enforced, usually after one warning, sometimes after three for the milder breaks. For things like drugs and person trafficking however, there is only ever one warning. If they get caught doing that, even outside the Ringmaster's territory, they will be destroyed. Smuggling in other things like expensive foods, Dust, and hard to get but legal items is tolerated, even permitted within the Ringmaster's territory and weapons are tolerated on a territory basis only, but drugs and people? Hard no. There are consequences, and even those who don't answer to the Ringmaster directly are skittish of touching the stuff. Nobody wants a gang war, it's bad for business. But the locals, even the ones who are known as powerhouses in their own right, seem wary of the war less because of the potential damage and more because they seem to think they'd lose.

-The group from Mantle scoff. They've never heard of this Ringmaster, and who cares what other gangs do so long as they stay in their territory? They've dealt with Atlas security, some uppity new blood with a pesky honor code means nothing to them.

-The other gangs all collectively exchange glances and take a long step back.

-For the first month or so, there's no sign of this Ringmaster. The gang stays close to their tiny territory pocket, sets up some trade rings in their more palatable stock. Then, once the income is trickling in, they move for the big haul.

-Slums are always a good place to lure in marks, and Faunus always sell well, even if humans are more of a premium. It's easier to make Faunus disappear though. Faunus bias runs deep on both sides, both in humans who won't look as hard, and Faunus who believe that humans won't bother looking, so why bother telling? Even though there are actually plenty of officers, human and Faunus, who would risk their skin gladly to rescue anyone, extra ears or no.

-They've snagged about ten marks and are hoping to round that number up to thirty before selling them off to various buyers in Mistral and Mantle when the warning shows up. It's delivered right to their door, and none of them know how they didn't hear the racket of someone hammering a paper notice onto their door.

-"Return the people and cease selling drugs and people or leave entirely. This city does not welcome your kind. -Ringmaster."

-They *laugh*. Really? A note? Big Whoop. Besides, they were careful not to take anyone from inside the Ringmaster's territory, so what business it is of theirs?

-Four nights pass, they snag three more marks, one of which is a particular prize, a young human boy, dark skinned and green eyed. His price will be lowered a little from the limp he seems to have, but his scar like tattoos are intriguing and his face is pretty enough they figure they'll still get quite a bit. The boy is oddly calm as they push him into the warehouse with the others, watching them with almost eerie green-gold eyes as he says calmly that they should let everyone go. It's not right, he says softly, to sell lives. And if they don't stop, they're going to regret it.

-They laugh some more as they shove him into the worried arms of a young Faunus mother who already has a few other children she's been trying to comfort.

-Three hours.

-That's how long it takes for the world to come down around their ears.

-The warehouse is taken first, all the marks gone in what feels like one blink, then it's set on fire, fueled with Dust so there's no hope of recovering the building. Their four backup safehouses are gone by the end of the hour, members of the group either trussed up and knocked out and dumped on the doorstep of the police or killed where they stand if they tried to fight back.

-In three hours, their central base of operation is all that's left, and they learn quickly that there is nowhere left to run.

-Roman Torchwick spins his cane idly as he saunters in, backed by his silent partner. They're both known entities in the underworld and have been for years. The leader spits at Torchwick, mocking the name Ringmaster as pretentious even for a thief and crime lord like him.

-Torchwick smiles, it's not a nice expression, "Oh. I'm not the Ringmaster. That's my boss."

-A flourish and a sidestep and the gang cringes back in disbelief and shock as a massive Grimm shoulders its way through the broken doorway.

-Perched on its back, a dark king on a fallen steed, is the boy. Those eerie green-gold eyes look at them in disappointment, in knowing, and the Dust orbs in his elaborate cane gleam warningly when a few of them inch hands toward hidden knives.

-No way. This is the Ringmaster? This child?

-"You were warned," says the boy in a voice too calm and too mature for his skin, "I'll give you one more chance. Surrender and turn yourselves and all relevant evidence in to the police, and you won't die."

-The leader of the group from Mantle snarls and pulls out a hidden pistol, taking aim at the boy.

-He's dead before the safety of the gun can click off.

-The other child, silver haired and grinning like a wild thing, lowers his foot, the shot from whatever weapon he has hidden in his boots echoing through the house. The Grimm looms large, jaws parting in an echoing snarl of warning, one massive paw rising to show huge claws.

-The child -the Ringmaster- doesn't so much as flinch. He just shifts those eyes to those that remain with a silent question in his eyes.

-Many of them decide that dealing with the law is better than dying at the hands of this- this demon child.

-None of them question anymore why Vale's underworld treats the Ringmaster with respect, even if the factions that do not yet answer to him.

#SE asks #anon asks #Team Gremlin verse #oscar pine #oscar pine being a crime lord #friendship is nice #but sometimes murder is necessary

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sparklingpax · 4 years

Text

Tales From Iacon - Part 4: Truly

A/N:

-Part 1, Part 2, Part 3

-sdjjdsjds I’m sorry bout that title but it was that or literally “I’m sorry part 2” ksksj please have mercy on me I’m bad with titles and naming stuff,,

-I also have a wattpad where I’m posting updates as well as other stories! (user is @/kunixjiro)

-akjsdkjsdj I’m so sorry this took me literally way too long to write and for all that waiting it’s literally just........the super short......conclusion to this current um. “conflict” that’s been happening....I hope it wasn’t too bothersome! ^^’’ Next bunch of stories will be more the way I had planned on writing this series; stuff happens and each chapter is its own “adventure,” kinda....^^’’

-As always, I apologize if this was badly written, and for any typos, mistakes, weird phrasings, characters being ooc, etc

-And once again, I’m sorry it’s so darn short...... >///<’’

-So with all that said and done, please enjoy! I...I hope ^~^’’

///

Orion waited at the gates to Kaon, nervously eyeing the rather…buff guards that stood nearby. Their faces were like stone; unmoving and barren of any emotion, staring straight ahead as they gripped large blades with both hands.

Megatronus…please…come…Orion swallowed and took a small step back. As he continued to wait, his mind began to wander.

He noticed the two guards were also very different.

The one to the left of the gate was slightly bigger, and a much milder shade of blue dominated his plating. Meanwhile, his companion to the right had a deeper blue with highlights of a blueish-purple, as well as the tip of his helm having a small crack in it. Orion also began to see that their optics were actually closer to green than blue, the blue-purple bot having a greener shade of—

“Orion. You wanted to see me?”

The archivist nearly jumped out of his skin, biting down on his tongue in surprise. Quickly, he slapped a hand over his mouth as he turned around, still reeling a little from the pain of his bite.

“Mh…mhmh…” he nodded, smiling a little sheepishly under Megatronus’ hardened gaze.

First thing’s first, make this whole mess right, Orion. Don’t screw it up again.

“Well?”

Orion felt his face heat up, realizing he hadn’t quite…thought out what to say.

The silence, broken only by the sounds of nature, seemed louder with every awkward second that passed.

“Orion…” Megatronus’ voice was a bit softer as he cut into Orion’s thoughts. “I thought you should know that I—”

“I’M SORRY!!!”

The two of them froze, eyes widened, just staring. Nervously Orion swallowed, wishing he hadn’t just blurted his apology so awkwardly….and while Megatronus had been trying to say something…

“…and so am I, Pax.”

Megatronus let his gaze flit to the ground as he mumbled his own apology, absentmindedly kicking at the ground. Primus, don’t I sound stupid…he gritted his teeth. But I was stupid…and overly mean…and stubborn….

Hands reached out and gently gripped his rough servos, causing him to abruptly look up again. He was met with Orion’s bright blue optics, shimmering with remorse and anxiousness.

“Megatronus, please,” he nearly whispered. “Don’t apologize…”

“But I was—”

“—hurt. You were hurt because you and I are friends, and I wasn’t there for you. We appreciate many of the same things, yet we are still different.”

Megatronus stared into his friend’s eyes. Orion squeezed his hands, smiling faintly.

“Difference makes life unique, Megatronus,” the archivist stated earnestly. “It was my fault for being so close-minded. I feared what it was I could not understand…and I see that now. Were I to lie to you or not, it would have made no difference—I would still be ignorant and unaccepting.”

He paused, looking down briefly, feeling guilty. “I am your friend, and I care about your happiness…and I wanted to let you know that whatever you love, whoever you are—I will be there next to you. I will support you. If I don’t understand, I will make the effort to—”

“Orion Pax.”

“—learn…yes?” Orion instantly felt his heart begin to pound. He hoped with all his spark he hadn’t said something he hadn’t meant. Truly, Orion felt what he was saying…

Megatronus squeezed his friend’s hands back.

“I know you meant no harm, my friend. It was my pride that twisted your words. You made no mistake…I ask you accept my apology for being so…harsh…” He gazed at Orion. “And, Orion…thank you.”

There was another silence before Orion nodded, smiling.

“You are my friend, Megatronus,” he repeated, “I would not turn you away for the world.”

“Orion, I—”

He didn’t finish his sentence, feeling all air leave his system as he felt the young scholar throw his small frame against his, arms embracing him gently.

A…a hug….

Megatronus stood there, immobile for a moment.

Then, feeling a flood of warm emotion, he gingerly hugged back.

Something about the comforting grip of his small friend made his spark soar.

I suppose every fight has its conclusion…I’m glad ours did…

Orion drew away, swiveling to face the gates.

“Come, Megatronus, I have an idea…” Orion prompted him, tugging gently on the gladiator’s arm, smiling warmly. Saying nothing, Megatronus followed, feeling…something he couldn’t quite describe with words well up in him.

“Of course,” he responded, trying his best to contain his joy.

Anywhere we go, let us be together, Orion Pax. You are a peace and kindness I have never been shown. Your eyes sparkle with innocence and excitement for life—life which is not beautiful, but only because you wish to learn about everything you can…your soul is good and generous…how I wish I was like you…let me stay near you, so that I may learn…

///

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chickensarentcheap · 3 years

Text

Never Gonna Be Alone- Chapter 43

Title: Revelations

Warnings: profanity, angst

Tagging: @c-a-v-a-l-r-y, @alievans007, @innerpaperexpertcloud, @miss-smutty, @tragiclyhip

He’s out the door by five thirty in the morning; leaving behind the warmth and the comfort of his home and making the five block trek to the Hudson River. With no fresh snowfall, the sidewalks and streets are remarkably clear; milder than normal temperatures slowly melting the waist high banks and turning patches of ice into puddles of muck and slush. His strides are long and purposeful. Soles of his runners crunching as they pass over neatly and tightly packed snow; following the foot tracks that earlier pedestrians have left behind. Chin tucked into his chest and his hands shoved in the pockets of his hoodie; anxious to get to his destination and start the day off in the right frame of mind. The headphones worn over a black beanie render him oblivious to sounds of life taking place around him ; the pounding of the music blocking out the sounds of traffic and the rattles and bangs that accompany the city garbage trucks. While he doesn’t make eye contact with those he passes, he notices the nods of greeting; meeting them with the brief turning up of the corner of the mouth and a slight head nod of acknowledgment. It’s what he enjoys most about the area and what eventually sold him on the idea of buying the brownstone; people are friendly enough to smile or offer a quick ‘good morning’, but don't possess enough curiosity to actually stop and speak.

He’s never been a social butterfly. Popular in high school, he’d blended in easily with the ‘jocks’ simply because of his athletic prowess and fairly good looks; girls wanted to date him, guys wanted to befriend him and hang out and attend beach parties. And while he’d followed the mantra ‘fake it until you make it’ and managed to stay quietly on the sidelines, he’d never been entirely comfortable with his status as one of the ‘cool kids’. The guy who’d get irritated when his buddies would make fun of the less popular kids; easily flying off the handle and calling them out on their shit if they said anything degrading towards the special needs students or dared to lob sexual comments towards females. He’d felt more in tune with the ‘loners’; the ones who’d hang out in the back of the cafeteria with their noses shoved in books or who’d eat their lunch sitting in front of their lockers.

It’s how he’d met his ex wife; a newly arrived grade nine student whose family had just moved Port Douglas from Perth. Taller than most females he’d ever encountered, she’d had a thicker build that both guys and girls consistently made fun of; broad shoulders and muscular legs and well defined arms. Shy and soft spoken and never making eye contact with anyone in the hall; thick, wavy blond hair falling over her face as she ignored the whispers and the stares and kept her books and binders clutched tightly to her chest. He’d been the first student to approach her; the last football player to leave practice and finding her sitting on a curb outside of school, waiting for a ride that was running late. And she’d seemed both stunned and terrified when he actually spoke to her; standing above her still clad in his now muddy and sweat soaked practice gear, helmet tucked under one arm and his backpack slung over a shoulder. Introducing himself and offering both a hand in greeting and a ride home; quickly discovering that she had a beautiful smile and the most stunning green eyes he’d ever seen. And she’d made him feel things that none of the other girls ever had; never experiencing that immediate and intriguing spark with any of the prom queens or the cheerleaders that he’d attempted relationships with in the past.

“I know who you are,” she’d said, nervously tucking her hair behind her ears. It had shimmered in the sunlight; the lightest and most beautiful shade of blond that he’d ever laid eyes on. “Everyone talks about you. You’re like the most popular guy in school. Yet you don’t act like that. You’re not a total ass to people. You’re different.”

It had been the first time that anyone had ever told him that. Truly believing that the company he’d kept had painted him in a far different light. Guilty by association because those he hung around were boisterous and crude; convinced that being good at sports meant they ran the school and didn’t have to show respect to anyone. And it had made him feel good; being seen as kind and compassionate doing wonders for his ego in a way no touchdown or goal scored ever could.

She’d accepted his ride home that night. And the request for a date before she slipped out of the car. Two weeks later they were inseparable and considered themselves ‘exclusive’; holding hands in the hall and having lunch together every day and spending nearly every waking hours outside of school with one another. He was convinced that he met the love of his life and that she’d be the one he’d marry and have a family with. Grow old with.

It had started out well; a brief engagement and married only a week after graduation. She’d been certain she could handle the life of a soldier's wife; he was new to the military but extremely committed and determined to make a lifelong career out of it. And for the most part they’d been happy; a little house not far from his home base, a tight circle of both military and civilian friends, the honeymoon stage lasting well into the second year. Everything changed once he received his first deployment; eight weeks in Afghanistan that quickly turned into six months. When he’d returned home, he’d begun hearing the rumours; she was angry at his absence and his inability to call home on a regular basis and sought solace in the arms of not just one man, but many. He hadn’t wanted to believe it, and she’d been convincing when he’d confronted her about it; pledging her undying love for him and assuring him -with both words and her body- that he was the only man that she’d wanted.

He’d been an idiot. For years. So smitten that he hadn’t wanted to accept the truth and refused to walk away; seeing her as his ‘be all and end all’ and not wanting things to come to an end. He DID love her. Probably a lot more than she had ever loved him. He’d been so terrified of abandonment, that he’d held on even tighter; he’d lost the only other woman he’d ever loved at a very early age and couldn’t stand the thought of losing Sarah too. So he put up with it; sticking by her side no matter how many notches on the bedposts she lodged and no matter how rampant the rumours and the gossip became. Soon that love turned into resentment and sheer tolerance. Letting her live her ‘double life’; pretending to be a happy and adoring couple in public yet knowing she was off running around behind his back the second he was shipped off for a tour. His drinking became a problem; booze numbing the heartache and the loneliness and giving him an escape from the miserable reality of his life. And he’d been a week removed from filing for divorce when the pregnancy test came back; she was expecting a baby and she was adamant it was his despite all the evidence that told him there was no way he could possibly be the father. He couldn’t leave her like THAT. He’d be viewed as the bad guy; the asshole that had ended his marriage WHILE his wife was pregnant. So he’d changed his plans; vowing that he’d stay by her side no matter what and that he’d be the best father and family man he could possibly be.

He’d been in Iraq when Austin was born; informed of his son’s arrival while in Mosul and immediately sent home. And he’d known right away that the kid wasn’t his the second he’d looked at him; not a single feature that could be attributed to either father OR mother. But it hadn’t mattered. The second he’d held Austin in his arms and all of those tiny fingers had curled around just one of his, Tyler had made his decision; he’d stick around and be the boy’s daddy and love him a way he never thought it was possible to love another human being. He’d be the kind of father his kid could one day brag about; attentive and patient and compassionate. Never would he be like his old man. He would cut back on his drinking and get help with his anger management issues and his wife would never have to worry if he’d wander and find someone else; throwing himself one hundred percent into their marriage and in raising a family together. Even if it meant that he’d never be truly happy and that she’d continue her dalliances whenever he was stationed overseas. He’d stay committed to her no matter what; his son never having to grow up without both parents under the same roof or suffer from the trauma of being from a broken home.

The cancer had changed everything. The stress behind caring for a terminally ill child had brought out both his and Sarah’s true sides; they didn’t love each other and could barely stand being in the same room together and all of the pretending and the faking was just wearing them down and making things even worse. But he’d admired her; her commitment to caring for their rapidly deteriorating son, the steadfast determination to beat it ‘no matter what’, and the rock solid courage she displayed when it was evident Austin’s time on earth was coming to an end. And despite her mistakes and her failures as a wife, she HAD deserved better. She had needed a man that would support her; someone that would hold her while she cried and lift her up during the especially dark and trying times and would be by her side during funeral preparations. He’d failed her; running away when things became too painful to witness. And in the end, he’d failed his son as well. Leaving him alone and scared; his final moments on earth spent wondering what he’d ever done to make his father hate him THAT much.

It’s been seventeen years and sometimes it hurts just as much as it did the moment he got the news. The loss still painful and immense; a part of his heart forever torn out of his chest and never able to be put back into place. And it isn’t just the unexplainable and often unbearable sorrow that comes with losing a child; so powerful and pronounced it can bring even the toughest of men to their knees. It’s the guilt and the regret that continue to haunt and eat away at him; silent and waiting for the perfect opportunity to strike. It comes when he’s at his lowest; when the combined mental illnesses are rearing their ugly heads and threatening to drag him down. That’s when the voices come out to play; the cruel and the degrading whispers in his ears that insist he’s EXACTLY the monster that he’s made himself out to be. The kind that abandons those he loves when the going gets tough; physically brave, but an emotional coward. They remind him not only of the mistake he’d made with Austin but those he’d committed within the last twelve and a half years; the lies he told and the promises he broke and the times he raised his voice or put a fist through a wall. The moments he’d slipped and given in to his addictions; the fear of being a failure as a husband and father pushing him to not only the job, but the bottle and the pain meds as a form of coping and a means of escape.

Normally he’s able to fight those voices off; years of therapy -and an extremely patient and attentive wife- helping him develop healthy coping mechanisms. The water remains his favourite and most successful form of escape; the familiar scent of salt that hangs heavily in the air, the sounds of the waves as they roll up onto the shore, the sun's powerful and often punishing rays glistening on the rippling surface of the ocean. Sometimes it’s a couple hours spent surfing; the feel of the wind against his face and crispness of the water that seems to cleanse his very soul. There’s days where it’s as simple as a walk along the ocean line; the water lapping at his ankles, wet sand cushioning and moulding around his feet. Or a hike through the forest across from their home. Taking a well beaten path that snakes and winds through the dense gathering of trees and leads to a small clearing; a small wooden staircase he’d erected shortly after they’d moved into the house giving access to a patch of pristine, white beach. It’s a tiny piece of solitude; tucked away and unseen from even the edge of their main property. And they’ve ventured there together many times; taking along that faded and tattered plaid blanket and a picnic lunch and taking advantage of every minute of quality time granted to them. Reconnecting in many ways; playful bantering and light hearted teasing, deep and emotional chats revolving their respective childhoods and the shared loss of the only parent that had loved either of them. Even after twelve and half years there’s never a lull in conversation; always something new and long buried that’s brought to the surface and finally shared after decades of locking it away. It’s never boring when they’re together; a strong friendship and a unique and powerful bond -cemented during that difficult and terrifying time nearly thirteen years ago- serving as a stable foundation for everything else built upon it.

The riverfront is quiet. A half a dozen dog walkers and one lone jogger. The latter a middle aged woman in top of the line athletic gear that he’s encountered a handful of times over the past three years and always offers him a warm smile and a nod in greeting. He pauses at the railing; checking for any missed calls or text messages and taking his time to stretch and warm up. The body feels good today; the stiffness and the pain minimal, the warmer than usual temperatures keeping any arthritis flare ups at bay. There’s a distinct connection between his physical condition and his mental one. When his body feels healthy and he’s able to skip the daily cocktail of pain meds and exercises learned during physio, his mental condition isn’t as fragile. The burden of stress and torment that normally sits upon his shoulders suddenly seeming so much lighter; the usually bottomless and fermented wound in a long ago broken heart not seeming so gaping or festering. He feels energized and renewed; a deep and peaceful sleep and a pain free morning making him feel as if he’s prepared -mentally and physically- to take on the world. It’s still there; the black cloud of depression that hangs over him. But it doesn’t seem so ominous or menacing; those slivers of hope and positivity managing to sneak through.

He takes a moment to relish the view. The peek of the sun on the horizon, the glistening of the snow and the chunks ice that have taken up inhabitance on the surface of the Hudson, the faint glimmer that plays off the windows of the skyscrapers in the distance. There’s moments where he’s truly content here; enjoying the change of pace and admiring the vast differences between New York City and home. Today is one of those days; he feels secure in both where he is and WHO he is. A welcomed outsider as opposed to a strange and mysterious interloper. It’s a reminder that home is wherever his heart lies. His wife and his children sound asleep; warm and safe in their beds only blocks away.

SHE’S his heart; the person that came into his life and turned his world upside down and reminded him that he was still very much alive and had so much more living left to do. Showing him -for the first time in thirty five years- what it was like to be TRULY loved; wholly and completely and unconditionally. Someone so bright eyed and light in heart and spirit; managing to love life and everyone in it despite all of the pain and the suffering that they’d been put through. Giving him what he’d hadn’t even realized he needed; a normal life with everything familiar and mundane and domestic that came with it. Someone to wake up to in the morning; a sleepy smile and soft lips against his own, hands reaching for him and a warm body pressing against his. Going to bed with them every night; those remaining conversations that take place in a darkened, quiet room and the intimacy shared and the love and appreciation expressed.

Once more removing his phone from his pocket, he selects a different playlist and jacks the volume up on his headphones; drowning out the world around him and concentrating on nothing but breaking a sweat and pushing his body to its limits.

*****

It’s shortly after seven when he returns to Gramercy Park. Layers of clothing sticking to sweat soaked skin, beanie long discarded and shoved in his pocket; hair damp and sticking up in several different directions. The tips of his ears and his cheeks flushed from both the chill in the air and the effort and energy he’d put into his run; slow and steady at first, then legs and arms pumping as hard and powerfully as they possibly could. He feels invigorated; a level of energy and exuberance that he hasn’t encountered in weeks. Maybe even months. And it’s a welcome change. Feeling healthy AND content at the same time.

Before returning home he stops at the bodega at the end of the street; filling a basket with the various items Tanner had scrawled onto a post-it note he’d found attached to the fridge. The kid never fails to both surprise and amaze him; constantly finding recipes or ‘science experiments’ on the internet and always insisting on trying his hand at them. Forever curious; holding onto that innocence and that joy and wonder for far longer than any of his older siblings ever had. Phenomenally intelligent and talented; teaching himself how to play the guitar and the piano by ear, his paintings and drawings always appearing as if they’re done by someone so much older and possessing an experienced eye. Emotionally mature and wise, but socially lagging; unable to form friendships and constantly feeling awkward surrounded by groups of people and easily overwhelmed by too much activity and noise. Yet so empathetic and compassionate; easily and powerfully feeling other peoples’ emotions and his moods and behaviour dictated by the mere energies people give off when around him.

The bodega owner greets him with a broad smile and a friendly nod when he approaches the counter. A first name and very few details kind of friendship; Frank the sole proprietor and only full time employee since the store’s opening forty years ago. Short and stocky; a headful of curly salt and pepper hair and a thick moustache and a heavy Bronx accent. Both know very little about the other; talk mostly revolving around the weather and current events and Frank’s never ending curiosity about life in Australia and his overwhelming desire to visit and one day retire there.

“Alone today,” Frank comments, and moves to the small coffee bar -nothing more than a handful of machines and containers for milk and cream- behind the register. It’s an understanding between them; Tyler never needing to ask and Frank knowing his standing order. “That doesn’t happen often. Normally you’ve got at least one or two rug rats hanging off ya.”

“Gotta sneak out when I can.” He empties the contents of the basket onto the counter; the latter he stores in the rack at the end of the counter. “How’s business?”

“Quiet. Same thing every Christmas. The elite like to get away. They’re going to where you’re from, and your kind are coming here. Must be quite the culture shock, huh? Going from the sand and the sun to this crap?” It’s a typical conversation starter; the same opening question Tyler’s been asked every single visit for three years running.

“It’s a change, that’s for sure. Can’t say I wouldn’t rather be back in the sand and the sun. But…”

“But the kiddos and the sweetheart like it. I get it. When my daughter moved to Phoenix with her husband about ten years back, she insisted on coming back here every Christmas. Missed the cold and the white shit too much. Who the hell is crazy enough to miss THAT?”

“Wife says it’s the magic of the season. Wants the kids to experience it. White Christmas and all that. And they enjoy it; skating, sledding, snowball fights, all of that crap. If they’re happy, I’m happy.”

“I hear ya there. Makes a man’s life much more easy and relaxed, that’s for sure. If the littles and the wife are happy, things are a lot more pleasant, know what I’m saying?. They all doing well?”

“No complaints. Got spoiled at Christmas, Aunt’s coming to visit today, big brother’s getting married in three days…”

“Busy, busy. Not rest for the weary. How’s that cute little wife of yours?”

“Still little. Still cute.”

“How you holding up? Must be hard being away from home. From what you’re used to.”

“I miss it,” Tyler admits, and nods his appreciation for the coffee that’s set down in front of him; black, no sugar. “It’ll be nice to get back. It’s quieter there. No one really around. Just our own slice of paradise. Private. Just the way I like it.”

“You definitely are a stickler for your privacy, aren’t ya.”

“I’ve got my reasons. For keeping to myself.”

“Just not a people person, huh?”

“I like people. Some don’t like me. It’s better if they keep away. Especially from my family.”

Frank nods in understanding, then begins ringing up and bagging the purchases. “Gotta like a man that will defend and protect his own, no matter what.”

“You do what you gotta do,” Tyler reasons, reaching into the pocket of his hoodie when he feels his cellphone vibrate against him. Eyes narrowing and a frown playing on his lips when he reads the text sent by his wife; complaining about being woken up from a dead sleep by the ‘new nuisance in town’ repeatedly ringing the doorbell.

He was confident they’d seen and heard the last of Natalie. While he’d been grateful for her assistance in the American Girl store during Addie’s disappearance, he’d made it perfectly clear that he wanted nothing more to do with her. His already agitated and guilt stricken mood made even worse but yet another attempt on her part to proposition him; boldly stating in front of other customers and his children and granddaughter that while playing hard to get only made him sexier, it was time to put an end to the games. It was obvious -in her mind- that he was attracted to her and was only holding back out of a sense of loyalty and obligation to the woman who’d given him seven offspring.

The sex would be off the charts, Natalie had whispered in his ear, and brazenly attempted a crotch grab while waiting in line at the register. Not caring about the still sobbing Addie in his arms and tightly clinging to him, or the furious glares that Brookie was shooting in her direction. He hadn’t been kind in his rejection; angrily yanking her hand away with enough force to cause her to wince in pain and for his fingers to bruise the skin around her wrist. And he’d kept his tone low yet forceful when he’d told her to back off; he wouldn’t tolerate blatant disrespect towards his wife, especially in front of two of the children she’d not only hand in creating, but had carried inside of her.

“Bad news?” Frank inquires, and pushes the plastic bags across the counter.

“Something I’d rather NOT be dealing with.” He tucks his phone back into his pocket and checks the total on the register; pulling forty from his wallet and waving off the change when Frank begins to hand it over. “But it’s probably better in my hands that my wife’s.”

“Feisty little thing, ain’t she,” Frank chuckles. “I still remember when she told that one kid off for checking out your one girl. Your oldest. She was over there looking at the magazines, minding her own business, and some fucking high school joker was checking her out and making comments to his buddies. Your wife certainly isn’t afraid to mix things up, is she.”

“You don’t mess with a mumma bear. She’s tiny, but she’ll rip you apart,”

Frank grins, “Bet that makes you toe the line, huh?”

“I long ago learned what buttons NOT to push. She looks all cute and sweet and innocent, but trust me, that girl can fuck someone up. I’ll probably see you later.” He gathers up the bags in one hand, cup of coffee in the other. “TJ and Declan will want to come by. They also do when you get the new Archie comics.”

“Already put two aside from them. Gotta treat my best customers right. And speaking of that privacy you like so much…”

Tyler pauses in the doorway.

“You ain’t gonna like what I have to tell you.”

“Not when you put it like that I won’t.” He once more approaches the register. “What’s going on?”

“Someone’s been in here a few times asking about you. And your family. I meant to tell you yesterday, but you had the girls with you and I didn’t want to bring something up that might spook them or upset them.”

“Someone from the neighbourhood?”

“A newcomer. Some woman. Tall, blond, need a power washer to get all that crap off her face. Why do women do that? Why do they feel the need to smear on the war paint? Looking like damn clowns is what they look like. I don’t want to be stuck in the rain with a girl and turn around and look at her and find damn eyebrows washed away, know what I’m saying? Wake up next to them and all the makeup is gone and you no longer recognize them and you think some strange woman snuck into bed with ya in the middle of the night.”

“What did she want, Frank? What did she want to know?”

“Little questions, mostly. Mostly about you and your wife. How you met, what her name was before she met you, where she’s from originally, family life. That kind of thing. Wanted to know your last name but I told her I had no clue. First names only. That’s the way it’s always been.”

“Ask anything about my kids?”

“Just wanted to know their ages, school grades, stuff like that. I didn't have any info to give her and I told her that much. Also said even if I DID know, I wouldn’t cough it up to her or anyone else. Awful nosey, don’t you think? Trying to get up in a man’s business like that?”

“She’s definitely treading on thin ice. I appreciate it. That you wouldn’t tell her even if you did know that stuff.”

“Ain’t nobody's business what you do with your life. And it especially ain’t none of their concern when it comes to children. That’s just creepy as hell, if you ask me. Think she’s up to no good? Trying to cause trouble? With you and the missus?”

“I don’t know what she’s up to.” He moves towards the door. “I’ll find out though. One way or another. Thanks for letting me know. And for having our backs.”

“You and your family have been nothing but good to me, figure I should return the favour. Let me know how it turns out, would ya? Once you find out just what she’s up to. Inquiring minds want to know, and all.”

“I’ll let you know,” Tyler promises, and uses a forearm to push open the door.

“Hey!” Frank calls to him, and he pauses on the threshold. “What IS your last name?”

“Drummond.” The lie rolls easily off the tongue. Almost TOO easily.

“Tyler Drummond,” Frank nods as he considers it. “Got a nice ring to it. You know, you don’t look like a Tyler.”

“Yeah,” he grins, and steps out the door. “So I’ve been told.”

*****

He finds her in the kitchen. Back turned towards the doorway as she waits for the toaster to finish its cycle; repetitively tapping the end of a butter knife against the granite countertop as her body repeatedly shifts weight from one side to the other. Well known evidence of agitation and simmering anger; body always needing to be in motion, anxiety propelled nervous ‘tics’. She’s been fighting her own battle against mental illness for longer than he’s known her; the years of psychological torment inflicted by her mother -and eventually an emotionally, physically, and sexually abusive husband- leaving wounds far deeper and more punishing than anything his body has ever experienced. Medication and therapy have helped, as has finding her own ‘niche’ in the world beyond just being a wife and a mother; running her own business, a once weekly yoga and meditation class, her own strenuous workout plan that he’d helped her create. She’s always managed well considering; panic and anxiety attacks fairly uncommon and periods of deep and crippling depression far and few between.

While he always admonishes her for taking on too much and throwing herself into caring for others instead of herself, she swears that it helps; keeping her mind and her body occupied and not giving her a chance to sit still for too long and dwell on things. He’s sure there’s some PTSD in there. The incident on the Sultana Kamal Bridge still weighs heavily on her; unable to sit down and talk about it without having an emotional meltdown and suffering from the occasional night terror. But she always shrugs off the idea of additional help and supports; insisting she’s fine and just needs to keep busy and that things will pass. They always do. And even though she’s infamous for calling him the most stubborn human on the planet, he’s pretty sure that it’s HER that actually holds that title.

Per Tanner’s written instructions, he leaves the bodega purchases in their bags; carrying them into the pantry and placing them in a plastic tote box marked with his son’s name. The ten year old very particular and detail oriented; extremely neat and tidy and having his own anxiety attacks if anyone dares to upset his ebb and flow. For his seventh birthday, the only gifts he’d requested were a label maker and over two dozen food storage containers; adamant that those were the only things he wanted and didn’t care about the idea of a new bike or surfboard or the latest gaming system. Less than twenty four hours after receiving what he so desperately coveted, he’d used them to reorganize the pantry at home; everything stored in plastic containers and labelled appropriately and throwing a fit if anyone didn’t alphabetical order when putting things back on the shelves. THAT had prompted them to finally seek out a diagnosis for him. They had suspected it for years; Tanner sitting some place on the Autism spectrum. Yet it had still been hard to hear the words come out of the specialist’s mouth; fear and worry and concerns for his future flooding through them as they saw the words neatly printed out in their son’s medical chart.

“Everyone still asleep?” he inquires, as he finally approaches. Standing behind her with his hands on her hips; lips meeting the top of her head as his fingers gently knead the supple flesh. Even when -uncharacteristically- grumpy first thing in the morning, she is always at her most adorable; hair messy and face still puffy from sleep, petite frame clad in her infamous mismatched pyjamas. Today it’s a pair of scrubs with the word Columbia printed across the ass and a faded and tattered t-shirt from his side of the closet; miles too big on her yet somehow sexy at the same time.

“Thankfully. Takota woke up in a panic; the doorbell scared the ever loving shit out of him. You know how it is; things always seem a thousand times louder when you’re asleep. I cuddled with him for a bit; he’s passed out in the middle of our bed now.”

Draping an arm across her collarbone, he presses a kiss to her temple, then watches in amusement as she tends to the toasted bagel now sitting on the plate in front of her; putting enough force behind buttering it that the knife pierces the toast.

“You know…” his lips rest against the side of her head. “...you’re not supposed to stab the damn thing.”

“Better to stab this than walk down the street and stab that bitch in the fucking face,” she reasons. “I don’t think I’m in the position in my life where it would be a good idea to go to prison.”

“Definitely wouldn’t be ideal at this point and time. Not to mention you always complain about how shitty you look in orange. So how about we NOT stab anyone and try to rein in our homicidal tendencies?” Reaching around her, he wrenches the knife out of her shockingly tight and strong grip; completing the preparation of the bagel for her.

She tips her head back to look at him, smiling in appreciation. “I’m mad.”

“I can see that.”

“What is that woman’s major malfunction? Why is she so goddamn insistent on seeing you? I mean, I know you’re hot and the walking and breathing definition of masculinity and you’re enough to make even the old ladies all weak in the knees, but fuck…” she turns around to face him; plate in her hand as she leans back against the counter. “...she is WAY worse than any thirsty females on the playground or at the soccer park.”

“She’s something else alright.” He moves to the kettle boiling on the stove; snagging a clean mug from the drainboard by the sink and a tea bag from a canister on the counter.

“To show up here at all is a dumb ass thing to do. But at seven in the morning? Knowing there’s a house full of littles here? She has a kid of her own. I doubt she’d like if someone popped up on her doorstep and woke her crotch fruit up.”

“I don’t think she gives a shit, Me. About our kids OR her own.”

“She treats that kid like a goddamn accessory. Have you seen the way she dresses that little girl? Fur coats and Gucci and Chanel, a freaking bracelet and earrings from Tiffany’s. The kid even carries a bloody Birkin bag! She’s six! What the hell kind of parent buys stuff like that for ANY kid? Never mind a six year old.”

“A person with money to burn apparently.”

“WE have money to burn. And then some. Our kids wear clothes from Target. The occasional UnderArmour or Nike swag here or there. Most expensive thing on them is their shoes. And not even THOSE are over a hundred bucks.”

“Millie does have that expensive purse,” he points out, as he stands in front of the open fridge door and snags a carton of milk; dumping the preferred and required amount into the steaming mug of tea. “The pink one.”

“The Chanel. Yes, she does have that. And you know why she does? Because when Millie says ‘daddy, I really like that’, daddy goes ahead and buys it for her and doesn’t even bother to check the make or the price tag. That is SOLELY on you.”

“Daddy likes to spoil his girls,” he reasons, offering the mug as he rejoins her. “Especially the oldest one.”

“Millie always HAS been your favourite.”

“I meant YOU,” he presses a chaste peck to her lips when she turns her face up towards him. “Not Millie. I spoil you way more than I spoil any of those kids.”

“And how many times have you been told NOT to?”

“Way too many to count. How many times have I told you that I don’t give a shit what you say and that I’m going to keep on doing it?”

Smirking, she rips a piece of bagel off with her teeth. “Touche.”

“What did she want?” He stands next to her, palms resting on the edge of the counter. “The nuisance?”

“To be just that. A nuisance. I kept telling her you weren’t home. That you’d gone out for a bit. She wasn’t having any of it. Insisted that I was lying and accused me of being jealous and possessive and told me that no matter how hard I tried, I couldn’t keep you away from her. Something about 'you can’t stop what the heart AND the body want'.”

He gives a derisive snort.

“I don’t know. By that point I had already tuned out and was fantasizing about how I was going to kill her and dispose of her body. What the hell is her issue? I get that she has a raging female boner for you and in all fairness, I don’t blame her. But that woman is coo-coo for Cocoa Puffs. And I don’t use that term lightly. I save that for the REALLY crazy ones.”

“Did she say what she wanted? Why she even came over here?”

“You mean other than to jump on your dick? Or to convince me that you and her have some undeniable sexual chemistry and that you’re reluctant to leave me because I’m clingy and needy and have trapped you with half a dozen kids? Plus one.”

“She said that?”

“Every last word. Apparently you and her have really hit it off. There’s some kind of powerful and potent sexual and emotional connection between the two of you. News to me.”

“She’s fucking delusional. You realize that, yeah?”

“Big time delusional. I know what you’re like. I know how much you love me and your kids; how you’re unwaveringly faithful and loyal. I’ve never doubted any of that. I’ve never had a reason to. If you wanted out, you would have left a long time ago. You’ve had your chances.”

“I don’t want out. I’m all in. I’ve been all in for twelve and half years. I’m all in for the rest of my life. So sorry, Me. You’re stuck with me. Until the bitter end.”

“I can think of worse fates. But what the hell is her problem? Who does shit like this? Calling on another woman’s husband? Making up bullshit like that? Trying to cause problems between people?”

“A crazy person, that’s who. That’s all she wanted? To see me?”

“To give you Addie’s mitts back. I guess she left them at the American Girl store and crazy lady picked them up. Couldn’t she just leave them in the mailbox instead of showing up and ringing the doorbell at seven in the morning? Is that NOT what a normal person would do?”

“I think we’ve already established that she’s NOT normal.”

“You didn’t tell me she was there yesterday,” Esme sips at her tea. “At the American Girl place.”

“I thought I did.”

“That’s my sworn enemy. I would definitely remember if you told me something like that.”

Tyler shrugs. “Guess it just slipped my mind with everything else that was going. With Addie flipping out and me feeling like shit for losing it on her, telling you about the neighbour wasn’t the first thing on my agenda. I probably should have, but…”

“So she just happened to be there? At the American Girl lunch?”

“Yup. Showed up with her kid.”

“Kind of a coincidence, don’t you think? That she’d be there on the EXACT same day? I don’t mean to go all paranoid and possessive and jealous wife, but…”

“You’re not paranoid. And aren’t we all a little possessive? And jealous? When we love someone? I’m that way with you. I don’t like guys checking you out and making comments towards you and all that. And if that makes me possessive and jealous…” shrugging, he reaches for her tea and takes a sip.

“This woman has serious issues, Tyler. She’s nuts. Certifiably, I think. Didn’t you already tell her to leave you alone? That you’re married? Happily?”

“More than once.”

“Does she not realize some men actually DO value the sanctity of marriage? Mind you, it doesn’t seem like many these days, but still.”

“I don’t think that’s the kind of married men she’s used to, Me. I don’t think I fit HER definition of a married man. And it’s not for the lack of trying to scare her off. I’ve tried. Several times. Doesn’t seem to be getting through.”

“She’s persistent, I’ll give her that. Still, I don’t like someone pissing in my front yard. Continuously. Seems awful weird; her somehow showing up nearly everywhere you go. I can see the park being a one off; she was new to the community, saw a parent there and took it upon herself to try and make friends. But everything else? When you took the kids for lunch, when you and I were on our date; we SAW her watching us from her living room window. She didn’t hide it.”

“That was a little...odd,” Tyler admits.

“And how many times has she suddenly popped into the bodega when you’ve been there with the boys?”

“I’d say nine times out of ten.”

“That’s way too much of a coincidence to be a coincidence, don’t you think?”

“I do think that. I also think we need to talk about it. About all of this.”

“Oh God…” she grimaces. “...you ARE leaving me for her.”

“What?” He can’t help but laugh. “No, baby. NO. I am definitely NOT leaving you for her. For ANYONE. I already told you; I’m in this right to the end. Whenever that may be. There’s no one else, Me.” Draping an arm across her shoulders, he pulls her into him; lips meeting her temple and lingering for several seconds. “There’s just you. There’s always just been just you. Always will be.”

“And we need to talk about her because…”

“Because there’s more going on than you realize. More than just her showing up places.”

Esme frowns, mug poised at her lips. “Uh oh. I don’t think I like the sound of that.”

“Believe me, I don’t like it either. What’s going. But you’re right; that woman definitely DOES have issues.”

“Other than being a stalker you mean?”

“I don’t know EXACTLY what’s going on. Or how serious it is. But I don’t like it. What she’s up to.”

“And coming from someone with your instincts and your background? That’s saying something. Do I need to worry about it? Is it something we need to really watch out for and take seriously and…?”

"I honestly don't know, babe. But she knows stuff. About us. She somehow knows our name. Called me by first AND last yesterday. I've never told her what it is. And I highly doubt you did."

“I want to stab the woman in the face with a butter knife, so I think it's safe to say I’m NOT going to be out there telling her personal things. How WOULD she find that out? It’s not like it’s advertised anywhere. Frank doesn’t know it, Desi wouldn’t say anything.”

“She tried to blame TJ. Said she talked to him when he was out shovelling snow and that he coughed up the info. I confronted him and he denied it. Said that she DID stop to talk to him and all he told her was his first name. That’s it. Told me he knows better than that; not to tell strangers much about us.”

“TJ doesn’t lie. Not since he got caught...on camera...denting your truck and trying to tell me that it wasn’t him. He learned his lesson, believe me. And out of all the kids who would be a blabber mouth? He’s the last one. He idolizes you. The last thing he wants to do is piss you off or disappoint you. So when you tell him what to do or what NOT to do, he listens.”

“So how did she know? If neither of us told her and Desi didn’t say anything and we know it’s not TJ…”

“I don’t know. She hasn’t been around any of the other kids. They’d all say something. They’d tell us if she was asking questions.”

“She had to find out from somewhere. Someone had to tell her. It’s not like that info is just out there for anyone to look up. You don’t even use a real last name on the internet. We’ve been careful. We locked everything down five years ago. Made sure people couldn’t find shit out. But somehow…”

Sighing heavily, she carries her empty mug and dirty plate to the sink, then rejoins him; standing between his legs with her hands on his hips. “Do you think it's something serious? Something we need to worry about?”

“Are you asking me if I think she’s a threat?”

Esme nods.

“I don’t get that feeling from her. I don’t think she’s the type that gets her hands dirty. More the type that aids the person that does.”

“That sounds familiar. I distinctly remember someone else who used to do exactly that.”

“Let’s not compare the two of you. You’re nothing alike.”

“I used to help people get their hands dirty. I used to ask all the questions and find out all the info and then pass it along to guys like you. Sounds like she might be into the same kind of thing. Have you looked into her? Find out anything about her?”

“Not much to find out. Couple things here and there but nothing serious. I know she used to be in a relationship with the District Attorney in Chicago. There was a write up about it; the two of them at some charity event a few years back.”

“Is he the ex husband?”

“If he is…” he tucks her hair behind her ears, then cradles her face in his palms; thumbs repeatedly brushing against her cheeks. “...she’s never gone by his last name. I checked into that, too.”

“Maybe try Nik. She’s got a real knack of finding things about people. Things they’ve long kept buried. I’m sure she’d look into it. Probably have better luck than you.”

“If it comes to that, I’ll go in that direction. But I was thinking…”

She smirks. “I don’t think I like the way you said that...”

“...that if you still had any of your old contacts….”

“My old contacts? I haven’t spoken to any of them in years. Not since the whole fuck up with Nathan and the fake papers from the Marines. I haven’t talked to any of those people since.”

“What about people in the game? That you worked for BEFORE Nik? You ever talk to any of them?”

“There’s a couple I interact once in a while but mostly about non job related stuff. Just random checking in on each other and seeing how our lives are going. You’re not serious about this, are you? About wanting ME to try and find things out? I haven’t had a finger on that particular pulse in a long time.”

“The circle’s pretty tight,” Tyler reasons. “Once you’re in it, you’re never really out of it. There’s guys I haven’t talked to in years but I know I could call if I needed a favour. Maybe you’ve got a couple of those too. People that would do you a solid if you needed them to.”

“I thought we agreed that I’d put that part of my life behind me? We talked about this. After I royally messed things up by not realizing those papers sent to me were fake. I mean, it’s practically my fault that Nathan managed to get a hold of you in the first place.”

“Okay, we’re NOT going to go there. Because none of that is true. It happened. There’s no one to blame. He knew he couldn’t take me in a fair fight. Knew he had to get me from behind. Take me down.”

“And he wouldn’t have been able to had I NOT called you. Had I realized those papers weren’t the real deal, you never would have gone there and confronted him. We would have waited for the legit documents and you would have known how unstable he was. Instead, I just sent you in there and…”

“Let’s get one thing straight. You didn’t do anything. I went in there on my own. It was my choice. I had the chance; to walk away and leave him there. And I didn’t. I went back in. You had nothing to do with it.”

“If I’d known about the papers…”

“YOU had nothing to do with it,” he repeats. “There was no way you could have known what we were dealing with. Same way I couldn’t have known. It happened. Nathan did what he did.”

“Yeah, and you almost died. Because I was careless and…”

“Stop,” he presses a kiss to her lips in order to silence. “We are NOT going to talk about him. Nothing good ever comes out of talking about that asshole. So can we not? Bring him up? Can we let this go?”

“I just…”

“Drop it,” he orders, and then pecks the tip of her nose. “Please.”

“All I’m saying is…”

“Oh my god, woman. Stop.” Placing a kiss to her forehead, he gathers her into his arms; pulling her tightly into him, hands locking together at the small of her back. “We’re not going to talk about this. Five years ago. It never leads to anything good. And I really do not feel like fighting with you. Not after the night we had last night.”

Smiling, she wraps both arms around his waist. “It was a good night.”

“A very good night.” He drops a kiss on the top of her head. “You were fucking incredible.”

“I was, was I?” She looks up at him, bottom of her chin resting on his chest. “You weren’t too shabby either. You know how to raise the bar impossibly high, I’ll tell you that much. And that whole thing in the tub? We need to do that again. ASAP.”

“Thought you didn’t enjoy it. You were practically having a temper tantrum.”

“I was frustrated. Do you know that aggravating it is? Getting that close and having someone just yank the carpet out from under you? Do you have any idea how maddening that is?”

“Actually, I do. You’ve done it to me. Many times. But if you want to do it again…”

“I do. There’s a lot of things I want to do again. And again. And again. With you.”

“Baby, I aim to please.”

“And you do. Very well, as a matter of fact. Even though I am still slightly embarrassed by my reaction. You know, when I…in the tub...when you…”

“When I made you squirt?” He chuckles when she gives an embarrassed groan and buries her face in his shirt. “Why does that make you all shy and shit? I’m the last person you should be embarrassed around. We’ve been doing some dirty shit since day one. You think you would have stopped getting embarrassed a long time ago. I’ve only been your husband for twelve and a half years.”

“It’s just so...I don’t know...gross.”

“Gross? It’s fucking hot. It’s a turn on. Knowing I can make you do THAT? It doesn’t happen often; you getting THAT worked up.”

“Well I guess you need to try harder,” she teases, and gives a yelp when he brings both palms down onto her ass in ringing slaps and then squeezes tightly. “I have to say, husband. You really are a man among men. I definitely hit the jackpot when I landed you. Smartest thing I ever did; letting you put a ring on it.”

“Even though you didn’t want to marry me at first?”

“For the record…” her hands move to his sides, softly and repeatedly moving over his ribs. “...I never said I didn’t want to marry you. I said I was scared to get married again. That I was worried we were going to fuck things up. And I loved you and I didn’t want us to fuck them up. We both had pretty bad track records when it came to marriage.”

“That’s because we both married the wrong people the first time around.”

“I was just scared. I didn’t want things to go bad between us. Not when they already seemed so good. And if that meant staying the happily unmarried couple…”

“But I wasn’t okay with that. I wanted to get married. To you. And before you ask? No. Not because you were having Millie. She had nothing to do with it. I would have wanted to marry you even if there hadn’t been a baby. But I’m glad there was. She’s pretty awesome. They all are.”

“Yeah,” she smiles up at him. “They are. We’ve done good work, Tae. We definitely make some pretty damn beautiful babies. And it’s kind of sad; that there won’t be anymore. Kind of bittersweet. But I think it’s time for us, don’t you? Time for you and I to concentrate on each other for a change. I don’t want that to be all there is to us. Two people raising kids together.”

“There’s way too much between us for it to ever be just that,” he assures her. Laying a hand on the small of her back, he once more pulls her tightly into him; fingers of his other hand biting into the cheek of her ass when he covers her mouth with his.

The kiss is long and soft and slow; her arms wrapping around his waist as she stands on the top of his feet in order to give her that little bit of extra height. Her lips moving against his in perfect unison; moulding and fitting together in ways he’d never experienced with anyone else before. Bodies so in sync with each other; always so responsive and eager.

“I have another favour to ask,” he says when he pulls away, hands settling on her hips.

“You keep kissing me like that?” Her eyes are still closed as she sighs heavily and dreamily. “ For the rest of my life? You can ask as many favours as you want.”

“I don’t want you causing issues with Riley. Over the fentanyl.”

Her eyes snap open; a frown curving her lips as she looks up at him.

“She didn’t give it to me with bad intentions. It wasn’t like she was hooking me up with a fix. That’s not what I wanted it for. It had nothing to do with being an addict and everything to do with the pain I was in. I had screwed that knee up and it was going to be months before they could do another reconstruction and I couldn’t take much more. That’s how bad it was. How bad I was suffering. And I knew the doctor wouldn’t give me anything else. That he’d think I was just drug seeking; in it to get a high.”

“So you asked her.”

“I couldn’t ask Ovi. I knew he’d tell you. And I didn’t want him getting caught and his whole career going down the toilet before it even started. So when Riley came up here that summer, I asked her for something stronger. To hook me up with something that could help. And she put up a good fight; she wasn’t going to go give in. I’m the one who convinced her to. Promised I’d only use it when necessary.”

“And did you? Use it just when necessary?”

“Only when the pain got to be too much. She gave me enough pills to last a couple months. I only took eight. In the two weeks we were here. That’s it. When we were ready to go back home, I put them in the medicine cabinet and never thought about them again.”

“Until the other night.”

Tyler nods. “It scared the fuck out of me, Esme. How easy it was to take to them. To remember they were even there. I didn’t even give it a second thought. I just grabbed them and took them. No hesitation.”

“You realize how badly that could have gone, right? You don’t play around with that stuff, Tyler. That is some heavy duty shit and you just went ahead and took six of them and…”

“Not one of my finer moments.”

“It could have killed you. That many. You know that, right? It could have killed you. Did you even stop to think about that? About what would happen? How I’d find you dead? On Christmas morning? Did that even occur to you?”

“No,” he admits. “And that’s what scared me. The fact I didn’t think of any of that. That I just took the stuff. Like I’d done it a million times before.”

“Did you WANT something bad to happen?”

“No, babe. I didn’t. I just needed to shut my brain up. I just needed to get away from it. I needed peace and fucking quiet. An escape. From what goes on in my head.”

“I’m going to ask you something and I want you to be one hundred percent honest with me. No matter how hard it will be for me to hear or how bad you think it will hurt me. I need you to tell me the truth. Can you do that? Be honest with me?”

“I can.”

“Do you want to die? Right now. Right this second. Is that what your brain is telling you? Is that what it’s BEEN telling you? That it would be better if you weren’t here? That my life and the kids’ lives would somehow be better if you weren’t around anymore? Has it been telling you that?”

“How did we get onto this? I was just asking you not to go off on Riley. That she was only trying to help and…”

“Please don’t do that. Deflect. I’m scared too. It frightens me that you found it so easy to take those pills. That you didn’t even stop to think of what could happen. How it could have killed you and what that would have done to me. And the kids. That isn’t like you; you weigh options and you analyze every scenario and you consider every possible consequence. So I need to know. Did you take those pills because your brain is telling you that you’re better off dead?”

“Esme…”

“Tyler…” her voice cracks with emotion and she valiantly fights back against a flood of threatening tears. “...I need you to tell me the truth. I need to know exactly what we’re dealing with here. I need to know just how serious this is. I need you to tell me what’s REALLY going on in your head. So we can get past this and figure shit out and work on how to help you.

“I don’t…”

“I know you’re just trying to protect me. And believe me, I love you so much for that. The fact you’ve always protected me. No matter what. But right now I need to know the truth. Or we won’t get past this. Do you want to die?”

He swallows heavily. “Sometimes.”

“When was the last time you thought of it? When you felt that way?”

“Couple days ago.”

She briefly looks away in an attempt to control her emotions. “That night you took the fentanyl? Did you want to die then?”

He nods.

“Jesus….” she rakes a hand through her hair, then places it over her mouth; tears managing to escape. “...I mean, I was pretty sure you were going to say yes. We’ve been in this place before. I’ve taken a loaded gun out of your hand, for crying out loud. But to actually hear it…”

“I’m sorry, Me. I’m sorry that my brain is the way it is. I am so fucking sorry.”

“I know you can’t help it. I know it’s an illness and I know first hand how bad it can get. But I just…” she takes a deep, quivering breath and slowly releases it. “....I need to go and get some air or something. I need to just get out and get my shit together. I need…”

“Baby….” he attempts to move his hands to her shoulders, but is foiled when she takes a step backwards.

“I need to get out of here. Just for an hour. Just to clear my head and accept this and figure out a way to deal with it. It’s not you, Tyler. You realize that, right? Please tell me you realize that.”

“I do. I do realize that.”

“I just don’t know how much more I can take,” she admits. “I am so close to breaking and if that happens, I won’t be of any use to you. Or the kids. I just need some fresh air and a chance to get myself together and come to terms with this. With just how bad it actually is. Can you give me that? Just that little bit of time?”

“Of course I can.”

“It’s not you,” she repeats, and moves closer to him. Once more perching herself on top of his feet; both arms reaching up to circle his neck. “I need you to know it’s not you.”

“I know that, Me.” He cradles her face in his palms; fingers gently brushing away the tears that glisten on her face. “Just tell me you’re coming back. That you’re not just going to walk out of here and leave me and our kids. Tell me…”

“I’m not leaving you. Or them. I just need some time. An hour, even. Just to get my shit together. Just to sort through all of this stuff in my head. I’m not going anywhere, Tyler. I’m not walking away from you. From our family. From US. That isn’t even an option.”

“I’m just worried you’re going to walk out and realize it’s just too much. That I’M too much.”

“That’s not going to happen,” she assures him. “I love you. My whole world begins and ends with you. I need to be able to help you. And right now? I don’t think I can. I feel like I'm drowning. Or like I’m walking on really thin ice and one bad step is just going to pull me under. And I need to be okay. I need to be strong. For you.”

“I need you to be strong for YOURSELF. Why haven’t you told me any of this? About how you’re feeling? Being this close to the edge? Why…?”

“Not right now, okay? I’m going to go and get dressed and get some air. And when I come back, we’ll talk. We’ll get TJ and Millie and Alannah to watch everyone and we’ll sit down and talk. Get it all out in the open. BEFORE Riley gets here. I’m coming home, you know. It’s not like I’m disappearing off the face of the earth. I WILL be back.”

“And I’ll be here. No matter long how it takes.”

“An hour,” she promises, and turns her face up to his when he leans down to kiss her. “I didn’t lose you to Dhaka,” she says, and places her hands over his; eyes closing as his lips press against her forehead. “And I sure as hell won’t lose you to your own mind.”

#Tyler Rake #Tyler Rake fan fiction #Extraction fan fiction #Extraction fan fic #Chris Hemsworth #Chris Hemsworth Tyler Rake #Chris Hemsworth Extraction

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