#dare i say someone cooked here (it was probably jack)

[sixtypackofcrayola]

May i please request Redson x She/Her Fiancé reader?

Despite being an arranged marriage its still love at first sight.

Thought abt this one all day and had fun w/ it woo!!

✰ Red Son x Fem!Fiancé Reader ✰

Fandom; LEGO Monkie Kid Character List; Red Son, DBK, PIF, Reader's Family (Unnamed) Genre(s); Arranged Marriage Trope Pronouns; She/Her (Reader), They/He (Red Son) TW/CW; None, I believe! A/N; quick note; UNEDITED N NOT PROOFREAD,, n i probably wont go back to fix it</3 i wrote notes 4 this while i was stuck somewhere for a bit and just kinda copied them all down here</3 had a lotta fun w/ this tho ive never liked this trope b4 buuuut,,,,,, allllso read the a/n at the end thanks yous 

-Red Son wasn't too happy about this whole "arranged marriage" ordeal at first -The thought of already being set to marry someone random that he barely knew at all,, didn't appeal to him. He didn't even get a choice! They didn't know,,, much about love, but they were sure it wasn't forced -But, it appeases their parents... a great deal, in fact. Princess Iron Fan seems to like the idea of him with.... who was he marrying again?? -It wasn't like he had a choice. Arguing with his parents was usually futile. The possibility of heavily disliking who he was supposed to spend his life with ate away at him for the rest of the day -So, his parents and your parents were gonna have a dinner party,, thing to talk and formally introduce their children to each other. -Apparently his bride-to-be was the daughter of two other powerful demons. They were able to read up a bit on your parents in legends and whatnot, wanting a bit of a background check, but there was no mention of a child. So great, they still knew jack shit abt you. -The day of the dinner party, Red had a few bull clones running around to decorate as his parents wanted, and he was going to be preparing the food bc he's likely the best cook in the house -They were told to hold off a little on the spices when they cook, and that made them slightly more upset -Red dressed a bit differently as well,, not far off from his usual aesthetic but somethin a bit more formal at the request of his mother -You know he changed it up a bit though -Red Son honestly expected the worst, even if he didn’t express that with his parents. They didn’t think they were gonna like you much,,, -Just like Red, you also weren’t too happy about this -When your father told you that you were set to marry someone not of your choosing, you got a bit upset with him -Who you married should be your choice, right? You wanted to marry for love, not simply for the good of the family.  -Your elder sister had an arranged marriage as well. She didn’t seem completely unhappy, really, but she also wasn’t having the time of her life. However, your parents keep saying the results of these things are good for both families.  -They weren’t giving you a choice, either.  -The son of the Demon Bull King... wait hold on -THE Demon Bull King?? -Ohu boy -If you weren’t concerned before, you were now. If DBK’s son was anything like his father,,,, -You were mad at them for a while, understandably. How dare they take this right from you? AND THE LITERAL DEMON BULL KING’S SON.. -You and your family were demons too, and rather powerful ones at that. Your ancestors had caused boundless storms that raged and wreaked havoc for millennia at one point. The sparks of lightning ran through your veins, but that immense power had been shattered,, now your family was powerful, but not as much as they could be. Though even with that, DBK? How’d that happen?? -The next few days left you feeling a bit down. You didn’t wanna be stuck in an unhappy marriage like your sister! Just from that you expected the worst. You really weren’t going to like this, were you? -But hey, keep your chin up. There’s a possibility you’ll end up better than your sister, right?  -A while later, your parents tell you that you’re going to a dinner party,,, thing at the house of the Demon Bull family to formally introduce the fiancés or whatever -They had a personal tailor who made a dress for you! It was elegant but simple, easy to walk in and comfortable. You were going to pick something yourself, but you had to admit, it was pretty... -And the day of the event, your stomach was filled with uncomfortable butterflies. But you told yourself you’d be nice and hope for the best..  -And then you and your family show up,, -And ohu boy. -She’s- pretty- -Ayo wait. -You swear you see the red boy’s high ponytail spark flames for a second, but your parents didn’t seem to notice -You have a similar reaction. Just “oh wait he’s actually- wait-” -You honestly weren’t expecting him to look like this,, oh my -Red Son told himself it was simply nerves when his heart may or may not have skipped a beat. Even though he isn’t the type to get nervous, but,, it was easier than saying- uh, nevermind. -Your father introduces you, and you bow as you were told to before you arrived.  -”Lovely to meet you,” You say with a kind smile -”Pleasure meeting you as well,” they respond -Ohu his voice,, -Don’t come at me I love Red’s voice bro  -When you both look back at eachother, you see them blush, even if only a little. You feel your own face warm a bit -Princess Iron Fan says his name is Red Son. Odd name, but it wasn’t bad -After a bit more talking, PIF tells Red Son to show you around the main floor, and then meet in the dining room -He might’ve been lost in thought, as he looked slightly surprised when his name was mentioned again -”..Yes, mother. Come now, this way.” -His hands were folded behind his back as he led you down one of the halls. The hallways were long and a little echoey. You could slightly hear the sound of your footsteps bouncing off the walls. -You look back at Red Son out of curiosity, and his brow is furrowed slightly, like he’s upset or just in thought.  -You decide to perhaps strike a bit of conversation,, he interested you. Maybe he was feeling strange about this whole thing.. you were too. It was weird to be almost married to someone you’ve never really met. Could they relate to you? -”This is weird, isn’t it..?” You say in a low whisper, feeling the need to speak quietly as you lean closer to them so they’ll hear you -You see their ears flutter red son has bull ears headcanon lets gooo -”What, the long hallways or the fact that we’re fiancés?”  -You let out a barely audible laugh, “The marriage, of course. But yes, it does look easy to get lost in this house.” -”Oh, I used to. And think about it; this is only the first floor! I really don’t see the appeal in taking a whole five minutes to get to a different room.”  -You smile at him, “Sounds like a pain.” -”Doesn’t it?” -They only smile back for a moment, before averting their eyes with a flick of the ears -”Ahem, anywho, this way! The treasury is right down here.” ( To Be Continued ~  ✰ ) A/N; OKAY I LOVE THIS RN BUT IM SO TIRED BUT I WANNA PUT THIS OUT SO IF Y’ALL MAYB LIKE THIS N WANT THE OTHER PART I WILL GLADLY WRITE THE REST BC THIS I HAVE MORE THOUGHTS OBVIOUSLY N IDEA WAS FUN OKAY GN!!

[hockeywhhores]

it’s a love hate kind of thing- Q. Hughes

Quinn Hughes x f!Reader

warning~ angsty as hell, swearing, miscommunications 

summary~ You have to quarantine with the Hughes family, and you finally get to know why Quinn started to hate you. 

genre~ enemies to lovers, angsty to fluff

word count~ 2.9K 

Valentine’s masterlist

main masterlist

You don’t even remember how you became friends with Jack and Luke Hughes. Though, it was how most people became friends. You met Jack in highschool where you had a couple of classes, and mutual friends. From there you grew closer to the middle brother and soon met his brothers. Quinn was what you considered being your friend, but only for six months. Until he just stopped talking to you entirely. Luke had always been a genuine friend. When Quinn just stopped being your friend, it threw you through a loop. Was it something you did? What did you even do? Jack and Luke were there to say that he was just their older brother being an asshat, but you were still wary. You had the biggest crush on him from the moment you met him, and it really hurt when he stopped talking to you without an explanation.

You had no time to dwell on the past, as you were now in college. Jack had made it to the big leagues, and Luke was projected to follow suit. If anyone asked Ellen, she would say that you were at their house more than you were at your own dorm. Ellen didn’t even mind the company. You were teaching Luke how to cook proper meals, so he could be more self-efficient than his brothers. But then coronavirus hit. Hockey was canceled, they sent home the players, and colleges closed their doors. Ellen gladly let you stay at the Hughes’ household, while you waited for the dorms to reopen. The worst part of this deal was that Quinn was also coming home. You decided to just stay out of his way, but that was going to be hard with how close the brothers were.

“Y/n you want to go roller skate with us?” Jack was yelling at you from the living room, while you were making yourself some iced tea in the kitchen. Before you could respond, you heard Quinn. You weren’t sure if he didn’t want you to hear it or if he did.

“Dude, why did you invite her?”

Ouch.

“No thanks, Jack. I think I’m going to help your mom reorganize the cleaning closet.” you semi-lied. You had wanted to go play street hockey with them, but you really weren’t in the mood to listen to Quinn insult you.

“Come on! Please y/n!” Luke was now trying to convince you. The guys now moved in the kitchen where you were still making your drink.

“I think your mom is going to need some help to clean the closets.” you tried to push the looks they were giving you out of your head. Quinn looked disgusted. Jack and Luke were trying to give you puppy eyes.

“Oh, y/n you don’t have to help me. Go play with the guys.” It shocked you when you heard Ellen’s voice coming into the kitchen. Now you really didn’t have an excuse to not go. Jack and Luke high fives and started cheering.

“Thank you mom!” you heard Jack cheer out. You didn’t dare look at Quinn. You knew he had to have a look of disappointment. “Well, come on!” Jack grabbed your arm and dragged you outside.

Rollerblading was not your forte. You were so much better at ice skating, and Quinn never let you forget that as you tried to stop by turning your foot. Quinn also bumped into you hard, but you said nothing. You didn’t want to give me another thing to critic you about. Jack was on your team, and Luke was on Quinn’s team. Jack voiced out that it wasn’t fair, because you haven’t been playing hockey your whole life.

“You wanted me to come play with you guys.” you shrugged out and heard Quinn’s scoff.

“I told you guys not to invite her.” Quinn never missed a beat with the insults. You rolled your eyes, and started passing that puck to Luke, who was across from you.

“Lets just play.” Luke became the voice of reason, between Jack and Quinn’s argument, about being nicer to you.

Everyone knew the Hughes brothers were competitive, so you tried to stay out of the way of their sticks. You were just staying towards the designated spot for the goal until you heard your phone go off. You knew they wouldn’t care about you going to pick it up. Skating over to the garage where you left it, you noticed it was your friend Will that was calling you.

“Hey Will!” you cheered into your phone. Getting the attention of the guys. You just waved them off as you sat down on the floor.

“Hey y/n! I was wondering if you could give me some tips for online dating.” Will asked you squeamishly.

“I haven’t dated in years. I don’t know if I’m going to be any help.” you admitted.

“I know, but you are great at starting conversations. I just want some tips on how to be more outgoing, I guess.”  

“Just start by asking about their interests, and then just fine common ground. Your set after that.” you explained. “Don’t be afraid they’re just another human being.”

“I don’t want to text first, but I don’t think she wants to either,” he confessed. “Before I go, how is the Hughes family treating you? Quinn still being a dick?”

“Yeah, but nothing I’m not used to from him. Aside from that, everything is going great. We were just playing street hockey, before you called.”

“Well, this was just going to be a quick call, but we should talk more later.”

“Yeah, totally! Bye! Remember, she is just another human being.” you explain one last time.

“I will! Bye!” You clicked off the phone and were met with three eyes watching you. You got up from the ground and skated back to them.

“What?” you asked, curious why they were just staring at you.

“Who were you talking to?” Luke jokingly poked you, with his eyebrows going up and down.

“Not that it’s any of you guys' business, but I was talking to my friend Will.”

“Who’s Will?” Jack asked, genuinely curious.

“Probably just some else she’s fucked.” Quinn mumbled under his breath.

“Actually, no, he isn’t. He’s a friend that goes to my college, and he wanted some advice on how to talk to a girl he has been going after.” you were beyond pissed at Quinn now. Usually he just stuck to the insults about how terrible you were at hockey, or how he doesn’t want you around, but calling you a slut was crossing the line. “I’m done playing. See you inside.” was the last thing you said before you quickly took off the rollerblades, and went inside, without looking back at the guys.

“What the hell, Quinn” Jack yelled at his brother. “That was so not cool.”

“Yeah. Why the hell did you think you could say something like that to y/n. She has been nothing, but nice to you and you are being a total asshole to her.” Quinn just shook his head. He didn’t even know why he said that, but he would not be scolded by his younger brothers. Without giving them an explanation, he went back inside as well. As Quinn walked past your ‘room’ he could hear you crying. What he said was harsh, but not as harsh as you when you supposedly hooked up with his teammate, while you were talking to him.

Quinn was getting into the talking stage with you, and things were going good. You would send him good luck text before his games, and he would text you/hang out with you whenever he could. Until he had heard his teammate, James, talking about how good you were in bed. Quinn even came to your rescue saying how they shouldn’t talk about you like that, but when James told him when you had hooked up with him, he couldn't stand being around you. He was heartbroken. Quinn thought he did everything right. You were close with his entire family, and he tried to give you as much as he could, but you chose James. After that he wanted nothing to do with you and thought if he just insulted you enough you would leave him and his brother’s alone. But Jack and Luke liked you too much to let you stop being their friend. Quinn never told his brothers what made him hate you, because it wasn’t his business who you slept with. That still doesn't mean that he was going to continue giving his whole heart to you, while you slept with other people.

Dinner was awkward. No one really knew what to say. You had left your room in an enormous pair of sweatpants, a shirt that was a bit too big, and puffy, red eyes. Your hair was in a bun, and you weren’t really into talking. Quinn felt as if he should apologize, but didn’t really know what to say. He knew he hurt you, but you also hurt him. After you finished your plate, you thanked Ellen and went back to your room. Jack and Luke were quick to follow you, leaving Quinn and his mom together.

“What happened between you two? I thought you two were going to finally get into a relationship, but here you are. You are making her cry, and she can’t even look at you anymore. Doesn’t that make you sad?” Ellen questioned her oldest son.

“I thought we were going to become exclusive as well, but then she went behind my back, and slept with James Fisher. It does make me sad. I was so sure that we had mutual feelings, but I was just someone for her to play with.” This was the first time Quinn has ever told anyone why he disliked you so much.

“Have you talked to her about it? I trusted nothing that came out of that kid's mouth.” Ellen quizzed her son. “You both deserve answers.” with that she cleared her plate and started cleaning the kitchen. Quinn knew she was right, but he doubted that you even wanted to talk to him. Yet, He went to find you.

Quinn found you in your room with his brothers. He heard the laughs and the chirps before he even was close to the door. He lightly tapped on the door, making it swing open more and revealed him.

“What do you want, Quinn?” you demanded, voice as cold as ice. Jack and Luke were just looking at him.

“I wanted to talk to you. I owe you an apology.” he explained. It surprised you; Quinn never apologized for his insults. “Can I talk to you? Alone.” After you nodded, his brothers jumped up from sitting on the floor and left.

“Are you going to come in?” you asked him, pointing at the chair in the far corner. He just nodded and closed the door. He sat in the chair and just started talking.

“I wanted to say sorry for the comment I said earlier.”

“Why did you even think to say something like that?” you challenged him.

“Because that was what happened with James.” Quinn said seriously. “I thought we had something going on, and then you go and sleep around with my teammate. I don’t care what you do with your body, but you had to do it while we were talking. I was putting everything into getting our relationship started and you really thought sleeping with James was better. I was just a game to you. God dammit y/n, I loved you.” Quinn just confessed everything. He couldn’t keep it in anymore.

“I never slept with James.” you mumbled. “He made that all up just because I wouldn’t sleep with him. You weren’t just a game. I fell in love with you too. I still am, but if you just asked me, you would’ve known that I did not sleep with James. James is an egotistical asshole who lied to everyone.” you explained in a claim voice. You had tears in your eyes, and you saw some in his as well. Lightly patting the spot on the bed next to you; Quinn promptly moved next to you. Right when he sat down next to you; you pushed yourself into his arms, pulling him into a tight hug.

“I’m so sorry that you thought I was just playing you.” You cried into his shoulder.

“No. No. No. This is all my fault I should’ve just asked you. I’m so sorry y/n. I truly am a dick.” Quinn was playing with your hair while you hugged, and you just sank deeper into his arms.

That night was different for everyone. When a movie was put on, you and Quinn weren’t insulting each other. You guys were actually sitting next to each other, holding hands, and even sharing a blanket. Things weren’t great between you too, but things were better. The night was peaceful.

The next day, the sun was shining, and you needed to get outside and experience it. You put on your tanning swimsuit and laid out on the lawn, while the guys were playing street hockey. They really couldn’t get enough hockey. You giggle every time, one brother chirped the other.

“You want to play y/n?” Quinn asked you, when you started coughing after laughing so hard at something Jack called Quinn

“Oh, I don’t think so.” you barely got out. Turning around so you could your back under the sun. You felt Quinn’s eyes on your body, and you looked over at him and gave him a wink and a genuine smile. You were happy. You felt as if you belonged.

“Come on, babe, come help me show these dorks up.” Quinn pleaded with you. The pet name rolled off his tongue without him even knowing he said it.

“I mean, you asked so nicely.” You joked with him as you got up and grabbed your rollerblades.

“Yay! I call y/n!” Quinn cheered out so loudly that you were sure the entire block heard him. You laughed and grabbed that shortest stick you could find. Skating over to the boys while they were standing around waiting for you to get closer, you got close enough and stole it from where Luke had it steady. You shot it towards the mini net they had, and surprisingly it went in!

“Oh my god! Y/n just did that!” Jack shouted out in disbelief

“Hell yeah, she did!” Quinn countered and pulled you into his arms. The swim suit you were wearing was supportive enough for you to play, but still showed enough skin to tan in. Feeling his hand on your bare waist took your breath away. You turned and smiled at him.

“Aren’t you glad you picked me.” you chirped at him.

“I’m never not going to pick you.” Quinn declared, looking straight into your eyes. You made the first move and pulled him into a kiss. The kiss was one of love and pining. The kiss was making up for all the ones that were missed.

“Hey lovebirds! Get a room!” you heard Jack yell out from behind you.

“Dude, shut up.” Luke told Jack for you and Quinn. You were the one that broke up the kiss due to you smiling too hard. Resting your forehead against his with your arms still on him, trying not to roll away, and his touch still burning your skin.

“Do you want to try this again?” Quinn asked you nervously.

“I would love to try this again.” you professed. He pecked your lips and then briskly pulled away.

“She said yes! Y/n is going to be my girlfriend!” Quinn shouted so loudly that you were now sure that the entire block heard him.

“Finally!” you heard Jack and Luke applauded.

Quinn and you slept well that night, tangled up in each other's arms. Everything was going to be fine. You woke to Quinn drawing feather-light shapes on the back of your upper arms, and the smell of pancakes filling the house.

“I’ve always dreamed about what it would be like to wake up with you in my arms.” he admitted.

“So have I, but now we don’t have to dream anymore.” you grinned at him.

“Have I ever told you how beautiful you are?”

“Probably, but you could always say it again.” you playfully countered him.

“You are the most gorgeous woman. I have ever met.” Quinn proclaimed. You leaned up and kissed him. Letting everything out. Crawling on top of him, with your knees on both of his sides. You passionately kissed him. Quinn kissed you back with the same amount of passion and then started pulling up your shirt.

“EWW! My eyes!!” Luke’s voice rang out through the entire house. You promptly pulled down your shirt and jumped off of Quinn. “Mom! You’re going to have to watch these sinners.” Luke continued to run around the whole yelling.

“Be quiet, Luke, I’ve been waiting too long for those two to get together.” Ellen’s voice rang out after Lukes. Quinn blushed, and you did as well.

“Well, then.” Quinn said into the awkward air. You then just bursted out laughing, and soon he was joining in.

“What would we do without your brothers?” you chirped.

“We would probably get some peace.” Quinn countered, and you nodded your head in agreement.

“Let’s go get some pancakes! We can finish what we started when they all find something to do far, far away.” you wiggled your eyebrows at him.

“I can’t wait to take you back to Vancouver with me.” he confessed. You only smiled at him, but he knew that was what you wanted as well.

finished 

[crystalas]

Junk Yard Talks

A continuation of the Demon Bull Divorce AU. I’ve never done anything like this before so if you have any questions or prompts by all means go for it.

Takes place after Hindsight.

MK, Mei and Red Son are scrap hunting in the junk yard for stuff to upgrade the tuk-tuk and truck, they run into a certain pair of demons.

Junk yard talks

Mei had never thought of exploring the city’s Junk Yard because if she needed any parts for her bike, she could always buy them brand new from the shop but according to Red Son it was a treasure trove of finds. For her it was a treasure trove of smells.

“Especially for prototypes and if you’re on a budget!” he had explained giving MK and a side long glance, “For me at least if a prototype blows up then at least I don’t have to worry about costs!”

“So, what are we looking for?” MK demanded as he inspected a rusted-out van.

“I don’t know that’s the beauty of looking!” Red Son exclaimed “You never know when inspiration will hit you!”

“Hopefully inspiration will hit us without us needing tetanus jabs afterwards” Mei muttered as she navigated around some sharp looking scraps and then glared at MK.

“Don’t give me that look it was his turn to choose what we did for the day!” MK whispered back at her. “I thought you’d be into this being a motor head yourself!”

“When he said we were going to be looking at machine parts I thought he meant shopping not dumpster diving!” she hissed back. And Red Son had begun to rummage through what looked to be a car that had been hit a train, MK kept his hands in his pockets as he looked around. It was weirdly giving him an idea to draw a monster made of junk maybe with an old digger spade for a jaw and rusty chains for hair…he took out his little note book he always kept on him when such idea struck him and began to sketch down the parts he wanted to use.

Huh maybe Red Son was right about inspiration hitting you here.

“Monkie Kid!” a voice demanded “It’s your worst nightmare!”

“Yin!”

“Jin!”

“The gold and silver demons!” the two voices sang before mimicking a rock solo, only then did MK look up and saw the two demons glaring at him crossly as they perched on top of nearby junk pile obviously hoping for more of a reaction that dumb confusion.

“Oi mate!” the gold one growled “It’s considered common courtesy to at least look at your demise!”

“Sorry I was in the zone!” MK apologized as he took out his staff to fight.

“Yeah, well you’re being very rude!” Yin declared.

“Barging into our home, not even acknowledging our sweet introduction; downright disrespectful I’d call it!” Jin cried.

“Hey MK did you find anything?” Mei asked and MK waved her off. “Hey weren’t those the guys who tried to run Pigsy out of business?”

“Yeah, I gotta fight them so give me a minute”

“A MINUTE??!” the two demons roared “You got some nerve!”

“Need a hand?”

“Don’t ignore us!” Yin shouted and MK looked up to see the two demons leaping down prepared to fight and MK prepared to do battle.

“What’s going on Noodle boy?” Red Son demanded as he turned a corner just to see everyone in mid fight pause and stare at him before Yin and Jin took a step back.

“Monkie Kid! Not Monkey King!” Yin grumbled and smacked his brother around the head “Told you we should have written that down!”

“Kid, King it’s kinda easy to mix up!”

“Hey are we fighting or what?” MK demanded “You wanted this!”

“Nah we’re good!” Jin exclaimed “Hey Red Boy how are things?”

“Not bad all things considered” Red Son said “How are you two doing? Last I saw you were on TV trying to out cook Pigsy”

“Yeah, to be fair that was one of our more thought out plans we had…” Jin muttered.

“You know these guys?!” Mei demanded reminding the demons of the humans in the group. Red Son turned around to face his friends.

“Oh yeah we go waaaay back!” Jin laughed and patted Red Son on the back.

“We are probably the first demons to start mixing Tech and magic, these two are great to bounce ideas off with. Speaking of which, how did that improved calabash idea go? Did you managed to get pass that whole melting the victim problem?” Red Son asked and MK perked up at that last bit and saw the two metallic demons giving him an interesting look that was a mix of “don’t you dare tell him about that” and “Please don’t tell him about that”.

“Nah it kinda went belly-up we had to go back to the drawing board ya know?” Yin exclaimed and hustled Red Son away from MK in case the Monkie Kid decided to remind the two that the calabash did indeed work and he broke it when they tried to kidnap him with it.

“Pity” Red Son muttered “The idea of having an entire illusionary world that you can carry on you sounded like a fun idea. To be able to recreate places from memories or even create new locations entirely… you could have made it like a vacation spot for demons!”

“That’s a way better idea than using it as a holding cell for our enemies!” Jin moaned out loud to which everyone except MK turned to stare at him confused, Yin just face palmed.

“Anyway, you looking for anything in particular?” Yin interjected before anyone could question that statement Red Son pulled out a blue print.

“I’m looking to improve this, which needs better suspension…” he began and Yin looked at the blueprint nodded sagely, before scanning the junk yard.

“Yeah, I think I saw a quad bike over there, the engine is totally buggared but everything else is good to go!” he exclaimed Red Son grinned and trotted over with Yin leading the way. Jin watched the two go before glancing back at Mei and MK who were still on guard, sword and staff in hand just in case.

“So…how’s Red Boy been lately?” the demon asked quietly.

“Huh?!” Mei spluttered.

“I mean what with the whole divorce thing going on…”

“DIVORCE!?” MK cried out before being shushed by Jin loudly, he shot a look over to where his brother and Red Son had gone. “Sorry…but divorce? Red Son said his parents were going through a rough patch not ending it entirely!”

“That’s not what we heard on the ol’ demon grapevine, DBK going the whole nine yard on it. that’s practically unheard of in our community especially royalty. If you’re a king and you didn’t like your wife you just got a consort or something…”

“What did they say about Red Son?” MK asked concerned.

“Yeah, I heard you guys saying about mixing up Monkie Kid with Monkey King” Mei asked, all three scanned the area in case Red Son was in ear shot before returning to the huddle.

“We were told that until the whole thing was sorted out Red Son now belong to Monkey King’s court, turns out they meant YOUR court” Jin explained.

“Court sounds so uptight and fancy, I prefer the word team…” MK muttered before getting back on the topic. “Wait so why did DBK do that?” he demanded to which Jin just shrugged.

“No clue…” he muttered.

“How come he never told us? Does he even know himself?” Mei wondered but Jin couldn’t answer as Red Son and Yin came back easily dragging a quad bike that looked like someone had tried to drive it through a boulder and failed.

“Hey look these are practically brand new and we can use the fourth as a spare!” he chirped happily.

“Good find mate!” Jin beamed, “Why don’t you guys stay for lunch? We’re having toad in the hole!”

MK and Mei blanched at the idea of eating roasted toads or something and the demon brothers grinned.

“Oh, come on we’ll be having some spotted dick for afters!” he chuckled Mei nearly gagged at the idea and Red Son gave a sigh.

“Relax Toad in the hole is an English dish of sausage in batter, and spotted dick is a steamed current pudding” Yin and Jin gave a groan.

“Spoil our fun why don’t you?” Yin growled.

“You know how to cook English dishes?” MK asked.

“We travelled to London during the whole industrial revolution, very informative on the top-of-the-line tech at the time and what can we say? The accent stuck!” Jin explained “you found it fun too didn’t you Red?”

“You went too?” Mei asked and Red Son crossed his arms and looked annoyed.

“He didn’t stick around like we did, not after the Spring Heel Jack incident” Yin chuckled and playfully punched Red Son’s shoulder who gave a half-hearted growl.

“In my defence it was the one time and that old bat deserved getting her eye brows singed off, ‘filthy savage’ indeed!” he grumbled “all the other spring heeled jack sightings were not me!”

 Notes: I love the head canon that Yin, Jin and Red Son hang out and helped each other with their projects. Also, Spring Heel Jack was a Victorian creepy pasta of a being who could breathe fire, leap inhumanly high and vanish in an instant…sound familiar huh?

[orangefoxes]

Hey, so I've been trying to submit a prompt but it won't work so here it goes I know this will be sad but what if Neil gets really sad and depressed (the reason is up for interpretation ex: bullied by jack or is haunted by PTSD) and so he becomes full of self hate and becomes anorexic and cuts himself #andreil (this would mean so much since I've been through similar circumstances and was strong enough to pull through and keep living, this book and your Tumblr have helped me so much)

Hi @soph-ie21 I am so sorry this took a whopping 4 years for me to post. I’m terrible for not checking my inbox as my notifications have been turned off for tumblr since I was like 13. I’m so glad to hear that you recovered from your ED, you must be so strong and I’m so proud of you as I know how difficult that is to do. I’m hoping this is the sort of prompt you were looking for, if you’re even looking after this long, as it’s not very dialogue heavy, but here you go.

TRIGGER WARNING: EATING DISORDER, SELF LOATHING, ANOREXIA.

When in high stress situations, to cope, the brain releases a hormone called cortisol. It’s alright in small doses, helpful even. It triggers your fight or flight response and readies the body to do something, fast. Constant exposure to the hormone however, has some not so good long term effects. Effects that include, but are not limited to: high blood pressure, heart disease, type 2 diabetes, osteoporosis, and, arguably the mildest, weight gain.

Cortisol results in weight gain for two reasons. The first is because it slows your metabolism, and the second is because the drop in blood sugar from constant high blood pressure means that you start craving fatty, sugary foods, which leads to overeating. Neil’s memory is not nearly good enough for him to recall what foods he had craved over the years, but he and his mother shied away from sweets and chocolate for dental reasons, it probably would have been a hardship for many kids growing up but Neil had never much cared for sugar anyway. However, what he and his mother did indulge in is a lot of fatty, fast food. Partly because it was cheap, partly because it was something they could eat while on the move, and partly because no one would look twice at two sketchy people in a Burger King or remember a beaten up old car briefly pausing in a drive thru.

While never giving much thought to how he looked (short of checking for ginger roots and the bruise on his cheek from where his mother had slapped that smile from his face), Neil does remember his weight fluctuating a lot when he was younger. The more stressful the months, the chubbier he got. It was in the quiet periods as he and his mother settled down and didn’t dare to venture into the supermarket too often that he began to lose it again. It was a cycle.

In Millport, Neil was at his lowest weight yet. There was only a solitary McDonald’s in town and Neil wasn’t about to become a regular. He stocked up on tinned food from the supermarket in his first week in town instead and meticulously made his way through them, heating the can up on the hot plate he had bought for four dollars from the thrift store in the high street.

He gained weight again once he started at Palmetto, he gained muscle mass too. This, of course, was thanks to three free meals a day and a new training regime with daily exercise. It was to be expected, but if, perhaps, he gained weight quicker than his teammates and muscle slower, well, he had bigger things to worry about.

Then he knew he was going to live.

Then everything with the Moriyamas was…well, not gone, but resolved.

That’s not to say there was nothing to stress about. There was the influx of reporters wanting to catch the Foxes’ attention to ask about Nathaniel Wesninski. There was Kevin’s impending break down as Riko’s funeral came and went. There was Aaron’s trial. Honestly it probably would have gone as stressful situations for Neil always go - here and gone just as quickly - except it turns out that Nicky cooks when he’s stressed, and Neil, well, he’s a stress eater.

After Aaron is declared innocent, Nicky resumes as normal. Neil…not quite. He’s constantly opening the cupboards to look for something to eat only to close them again when he finds nothing of interest. Without Nicky cooking, there’s nothing he can easily dig into and Neil, while accumulating many skills over the years, had never been a hand in the kitchen. The only things ready-eat that were consistently in the dorm were ramen and ice-cream. Even the thought of ramen makes Neil want to vomit and Neil wasn’t so desperate that he would resort to eating something as sweet as ice cream. Not that Andrew would let him if he did. (Andrew wasn’t a sharer).

He started to feel hungry.

He was always hungry.

The first few days he started to skip meals, he didn’t even notice he was doing it. Surely he didn’t notice he was doing it.

It’s just -

Here’s the thing.

Maybe he stress eats. Maybe his mother did too. They spent long car journeys with a family sized bag of potato chips resting by the gear stick and they spent half the time stuffing handfuls into their mouths and the other half checking the mirrors for cars that stayed behind them a touch to long. So maybe he stress ate, but it was never because of hunger: it was because of craving. It was because it gave him something to do with his hands. It was only when things quietened down, when the weeks turned long with the monotonous almost-existence that took up the majority of Neil’s life growing up (here’s something no one tells you about life on the run, in between the moments of sheer terror, it’s very very very boring), it was only then, that Neil actually began to feel things like hunger.

So when the hunger pangs began to curdle in his stomach, well, he didn’t mind. It meant he was safe enough to feel the hunger.

Maybe for the first couple of days he didn’t notice it. But then he noticed it.

He noticed enough to avoid things like rice and bread. Danger foods that packed on the calories and that made him bite the inside of his cheek until it bled at the mere thought. He noticed enough that he began to watch the others train and saw their muscles flex and couldn’t help but track their muscle growth and measure it up against his own. He always found himself lacking.

That’s when it started to get worse. If Allison spent 20 minutes on the treadmill. Then Neil would do 30. If Kevin did 40 push ups. Then Neil would do 50. If Renee had a salad for lunch, then Neil would just have a fruit pot.

The first time Andrew noticed that he skipped a meal, Neil just blinked. Being who he was, Neil didn’t do stupid things like stumble for lies and this time was no different. When Andrew asked about him not eating Neil just blinked like he hadn’t even noticed until Andrew brought it up.

He blinked and said “oh, you’re right. I got so caught up in watching exy reruns i didn’t even notice”

He said, “thanks, I’ll grab something in a sec”

Andrew breathed a scoffing breath down his nose, rolled his eyes and called him a junkie. He didn’t look at all surprised, as though Neil was only confirming what he had already guessed. Which of course is the trick all good liars employ.

Neil wondered if he would be surprised if he were to find out how impossible it would be for Neil to forget a meal time. He could never forget. All he thought about was food. It was all he thought about.

Food began to feel like it was all he cared about. Cared about more than school. Cared about more than exy. Is it terrible of him that that more than anything else feels like the worst thing?

And then, as things do, it got worse.

It turned into Neil stood in front of the mirror (looking at his body but not his eyes, never his eyes) and pinching the flesh between his fingers. Noticing every part of him that didn’t harden into muscle like the others. Noticing all the scars that had stretched strangely over a waist and thighs that are no longer as small.

He begins to peck at his food. Rip it into tiny pieces. Andrew looks down at his plate and glowers at him. Neil gives him a cheeky grin. He knows what he’s thinking. That this is just another one of those Andrew-mannerisms that Neil is taking on for himself. Like the sarcastic salutes and the blank, waiting stares. It’s so much easier to hide how little you’ve eaten when it’s all in pieces.

He didn’t know how to explain it. He just knows he needs to be thinner. He needs to weigh less. It’s not about looks. It’s never been about looks. He just needs to do this. He needs to be smaller. It will be alright then. Because then…then…

Well it will be alright then.

So here’s the thing about guilt and self loathing: they’re useless emotions. Andrew would be quick to agree. (Though Andrew is a hypocrite and is chock full of the both of them). His mother would agree too. How many times had Neil slipped poison into someone’s drink, stole from someone just as desperate, shot someone who maybe or maybe-not deserved it? And how many times after that did his mother pinch and prod at him and repeat the same mantra of “don’t you dare let guilt slow you down, you slow down and you’re dead”

Well, Mum, he’s slowed down. He slowed down so much that he’s stopped altogether and guess what? He fucking hates himself.

He replays it all in his head like a terrible loop. The boy in Switzerland that he tricked into taking his jacket so His fathers men would go after him instead. The old women he and his mother tricked into housing them and then slipped something in her tea until she slept and never woke up again. The homeless man who had broken into the house they were squatting in that Neil had shot on instinct. Seth.

Seth. Seth. Seth.

He fucking hates himself. Honestly the hunger pains kind of feel like the best thing he’s ever felt after that. The pain, the ache, he deserves it.

Then it gets worse. Then comes the worst part.

Andrew’s meds change again. The others had begun to make him irritable and he always had an energy crash by about 5pm and a terrible headache. The new ones wouldn’t be of much note as they did nothing groundbreakingly different, short of getting rid of the headaches and not sapping so much of his energy.

Except for one key side effect of the meds.

They suppressed Andrew’s appetite.

More and more Andrew is missing meals. He won’t even eat more than a tablespoon of ice cream. Neil watches him and adjusts himself to suit. He doesn’t know why, but he just can’t be eating more than him, he can’t.

The frustration he feels about Andrew’s meds soon turn to resentment. He hates that he has to watch Andrew not eat and not seem affected by it at all. Andrew lessens his exercise under Betsy’s advice and yet nothing changes. His weight stays the same. He probably even loses some thanks to the loss of muscle. Neil watches and Neil hates. He hates that if he skipped out on training he would pack on the pounds, he hates that his stomach hurt and hurts and Andrew doesn’t spare a thought on food at all.

He starts to avoid the roof. He starts to dodge Andrew’s gaze the same way he does his own in the mirror.

The next time they’re alone and Andrew leans in, more hesitant than he’s been in months, Neil jerks back and snaps “No.”

It isn’t even completely because of the resentment. The majority of it is because he feels disgusting and fat and he can’t bare Andrew touching him right now. Can’t bare him looking at him.

Andrew’s face closes off and he slides back to the other side of the couch. He’s searching Neil’s face, trying to find the misstep, trying to find what he did wrong.

Good, let him think he did something wrong.

Now that’s the resentment.

It’s immediately one of the worst things Neil has ever thought. He remembers sitting, trembling, on the roof, Andrew refusing to touch him saying “I wont be like them, I wont let you let me be”

And Neil’s trying to make him think, wants to make him feel -

Jesus Christ. He’s a piece of fucking shit.

He slams his way out of the dorm and runs and runs and runs.

He sleeps in the locker room and slumps out in the morning so he’s first in the main room for the meeting with Wymack. He sits on a chair that’s as far away from every other seat as it can get while still completing the make do semi-circle around where Wymack usually stands. When the others begin to filter in they take in his new seat, but don’t comment when they see his storming expression.

When Andrew sees him he pauses for a beat in the doorway before continuing to his usual seat on the couch. He stares at Neil blankly, but his hands are clenching and unclenching in his lap. Wymack hesitates but doesn’t say anything. The others play at being uninterested and only Aaron openly looks between Neil and Andrew with a steadyingly darkening expression.

Neil slams his locker and gets changed in the cubicles for the first time in months. He’s vicious in practice. Throwing in as many dirty moves as he can. Andrew stands in the goal and does nothing. When it’s only Wymack’s sharp whistle that stops Neil bringing his racket down on Matt’s arm when he attempts to steal the ball, Neil is benched.

He yanks off his helmet and slumps down on the bench and tries to remember how to breathe through rage.

He’s sat, pinching at the skin on his thigh, for ten minutes before Allison joins him. She holds out a breakfast bar and Neil stiffens.

“Eat, it might help you stop being such a raging asshole,” she says.

Neil takes the breakfast bar and when she doesn’t immediately leave he opens it and snaps a bit off with his fingers.

He stares down the rolled oats and nuts and grimaces at the sticky feeling of the syrup that holds them together. He feels sick.

“Are you going to eat?” Allison says.

Neil looks at her and huffs a bitter breath through his nose. A wry smile pulls at the corner of his lips.

He remembers that Allison battled bulimia for years.

You can’t lie to a liar.

She looks at his face. Concern trying to become anger that she’s trying to force to stay concern. She looks at his face and then over at Andrew, who is stood in his goal watching them as Kevin shouts at him to fucking do something already. She looks back at Neil.

“You know, relationships are hard enough without mental health problems in the mix. Seth and I were a terrible combination for many reasons and that was one them. I’m not saying it can’t be done or that it shouldn’t be done, I’m just saying it makes it so much harder. He used to try to make me eat. I hated him for that. Hated that I had to hide my own habits in my own room. One day, after he stopped me from going to purge one too many times we got into an argument. I said some disgusting things to him. The next day he was in the hospital because of an overdose. He had to get his stomach pumped. You know what the worst thing is? I don’t even remember what it is I said. I don’t know if what I did triggered him or if it would have happened anyway, but it couldn’t have helped. You’re always going to trigger each other at one point or another, it’s unavoidable. But if you know that and you don’t do anything to help yourself…well that’s when every shit thing you think about yourself starts to become true. So tell me, are you a piece of shit that’s going to drag everyone down with you, or are you better than that?”

Neil looks down at the breakfast bar. He still can’t make himself eat it.

He swallows harshly against the lump in his throat. He has to swallow two more times until he’s sure he can talk without crying.

“What’s betsy’s number?” He asks.

Allison doesn’t smile, but she nods like he’s done the right thing and pulls out her phone.

SIDE NOTE: I’d like to point out that Neil is very flawed and toxic in his thinking and Allison is harsh in what she says to him just because she’s a harsh person. If you have an eating disorder I know sometimes help and recovery seems like the worst thing in world and something you really don’t want, but please, please seek help. You can do it.

[britishassistant]

The Villainous Paranoiac Just Wants An Uneventful Holiday (Part 1)

This is not how you wanted to spend your break.

The school was supposed to be empty. Everyone except the Octavinelle trio was supposed to be gone.

Not to say you don’t enjoy your friends’ company but. No magic-using people means no magic-spewing overblots.

You were looking forward to just bringing the fairies their firewood and working on your winter homework while taking the first opportunity in a good long while to unwind with Grim and the ghosts. No investigations to worry about, no weird dreams to get worked up over, no overblots to frantically try and survive.

You wanted a break.

This? Marching 10km into the desert with the rest of Scarabia dorm for the third day in a row due to their leader’s looming psychotic breakdown? This is not a break.

Although...

There’s definetely something rotten in Scarabia dorm, you think to yourself as you watch Viper-senpai hand out skeins of water. Kalim-senpai had no problem using his unique magic yesterday, and yet today he acted like Grim had mortally insulted him when he asked for a repeat performance.

If the outburst had been after two or three other instances of Kalim-senpai using Oasis Maker and receiving what he felt were insufficient thanks for it, then his current attitude would make a little more sense. But taking umbrage after using it just once? And being universally praised by everyone else the rest of the day for it?

It doesn’t add up.

Even deranged behavior has some sort of internal logic to it, as Rosehearts-senpai and the Rules of the Queen of Hearts have taught you. Even with how nonsensical all 810 rules are, it’s rare to find a scenario where one rule actually conflicts with another— all of them usually work smoothly in tandem with the goal of having an orderly unbirthday party in mind.

Even if they do violate most forms of dignity and common sense.

Kalim-senpai’s behavior though? It’s erratic without rhyme or reason, bouncing from nice to mean and back again seemingly as he enters and exits a room. He insists you and Grim stay and participate in this asinine “training”, despite the fact that you both belong to a different dorm, and are technically rivals to Scarabia in Magift and exams.

If you didn’t know better, you’d say it’s almost like he’s trying to imitate Rosehearts-senpai before his overblot—and doing poorly at it.

And with how much Viper-senpai has been invoking parallels between the current situation and what happened back then...

The smartphone Crowley gave you is a cold, heavy weight in your pocket. Its charge ran out yesterday, which is unsurprising given how many times you dialed and redialed the dumb bird headmaster’s number only to be met with his voicemail. You can probably recite that stupid message by heart now. You’ve heard nothing from Ace and Deuce either.

One thing is clear; no one’s going to help you out of this mess but you.

“Kalim-senpai?” You brace yourself as you step towards him. “Can I ask you something?”

“What could you possibly question me about?” He barks, glaring down at you haughtily.

“Well, I was just wondering, what’s the point of all this?” You fight to keep your nerve as his posture stiffens. “I don’t mean any disrespect, none at all, but you do want everyone to do better in Magift and exams, don’t you? I was hoping you could explain to me how the parades and defensive magic training are supposed to do that. I apologize for my ignorance, I’m nowhere near as smart as you, but could you please tell me why we don’t just practice Magift and brush up on the class material inst—”

Your head’s ringing.

You think you hear faint yelling, though it sounds like it’s coming from somewhere far away.

Your cheek aches.

Numbness blooming into a sharp stinging throb that feels like it’s growing with every second that passes, burning hotter than the sun above you.

You cautiously poke your tongue against your teeth, but none feel loose, thank the Seven.

Damn, the desperate, near-hysterical thought flits through your head. Even a pampered rich boy like him has strength behind his hits, huh?

The rest of you is just trying to process what the Hell just happened.

“How. Dare. You?!”

Asim-sama looms over you, red eyes burning with fury.

It’s a fight to keep yourself from curling into a terrified ball under his gaze, tucking into yourself as though seeing less of you would abate the anger, the shouting, the hurt, like you used to when you were a child.

“You dare to question my methods, my leadership of this dorm?! You? A sniveling street rat leeching off my hospitality?! Do you know who I am?!” He rages. “I am Kalim al-Asim! I am the Head of this dorm! I don’t have to explain ANYTHING, justify ANYTHING to the likes of you!!”

You knew, you knew you were pushing your luck when you first asked, but you thought it would just be yelling, like it was before. You can handle yelling, nothing Asim-sama can say could ever be worse than what you’ve already heard.

You didn’t think he’d hit you.

You didn’t think he’d hit you.

You didn’t think—

“DON'T YOU TOUCH MY MINION, FGNAH!”

Your arm whips out almost on instinct.

You jolt forward slightly as Grim collides with it, hissing and spitting like he really was an irate cat, the flames in his ears flaring brightly enough that some detached part of you is worried about getting burned.

The other Scarabia students are reaching for their magic pens.

“Lemme at ‘im! Lemme at ‘im!!” Your friend howls, fighting to get past you. “Forget butt on fire, I’ll BURN IT TO A CRISP FOR HURTING MY MINION!! I'LL STEAL EVERYTHING YOU HAVE AND SELL IT FOR LUXURY TUNA!! THIS IS WHAT YOU GET FOR CROSSING THE GREAT GRIM—”

“No, Grim.”

Your friend halts in his flailing to stare uncomprehendingly at you. “But Yuu—!”

“It was my fault.” You say, trying to keep as much emotion out of your voice as possible. Tears and trembling only show weakness, only make them worse. “Asim-sama was just correcting me. He was right to do so. I shouldn’t have questioned him. I overstepped my bounds.”

Asim-sama sniffs. “At least you know your place. Be glad I don’t punish you anymore than this.”

“What?! He slapped you for asking a question, you can’t possibly believe—” You gather Grim into your arms and hug him close. You quietly thank the Great Seven you at least have him, trying to hide the quiver in your limbs by burying your face in his fur.

But that’s exactly why you can’t let him do this. It’s just the two of you, you can’t win against an entire dorm of wizards like you did against the ghosts. Maybe if Ace and Deuce and Jack were here...but it’s just you. You need to protect your friend in the only way you can. “We can’t win this. Please, Grim.”

You feel him grumble, then a paw carefully pushes at your forehead. “Hrm...I’ll show mercy for now, so geroff already. It’s too hot for you to keep hugging me like this, I’m cooking here fgnah.”

Despite saying so, he settles onto your shoulder, tail smacking your arm as it flicks irritably.

“If you’ll excuse me, Asim-sama.” You duck your head slightly. “I will remove myself from your sight and head back early as penance for my behavior. Once again, my deepest apologies for insulting you.”

Asim-sama gives you a curt, dismissive nod.

You turn and make your way through the crowd of Scarabia students, snatches of muttered conversations floating to your ears.

“How could he—?”

“Just for a question?”

“Isn’t that going too far...?”

“Unforgivable...”

“Prefect.” Viper-senpai takes you by the shoulder, turning you to face him. “Are you alright?”

“I’m fine.” You reply monotonously, eyes on the sand below you. “Just...just need to be by myself for a bit.”

His lips purse and you can feel him study your face. He presses a full water skein into your hands. “Take this. Even if it’s not as cold as I’d like, it should help with the swelling some. Plus you need to stay hydrated out there.”

“Thank you, Viper-senpai.” You nod, keeping your eyes down.

“And Prefect?” He squeezes your shoulder, voice lowering only a fraction. “I am truly sorry about this. All of this. It will not happen again, you have my word.”

It would’ve been a nice apology, had you not caught a glimpse of a smirk on his face.

You nod, making sure not to outwardly react to that or to the way the whispers of the other Scarabia students turn from the condemnation of their dorm head to the exaltation of the vice dorm head. You begin following the tracks in the sand back to the main dorm.

The sun beats down on your back as you take a swig from the skein and pass it to Grim to drink from. He’s still grumbling about how you should’ve let him recreate his rampage at the entrance ceremony.

For your part, the distance and good company have let you pull yourself out of that headspace enough that you can try and look back objectively on what happened.

Your mind keeps circling back around to one question: why did Asim-senpai hit you?

Based on your interactions before this, Asim-senpai doesn’t seem to be the type to resort to physical violence as a first response, or even a last one. Which means something in your question likely backed him into a corner enough that the normally pacifistic dorm head felt lashing out physically was the only way to get you to stop.

...Like the fact that he couldn’t answer it?

Even when screaming abuse at you, his ultimate response was that he wouldn’t explain himself to you. Is that because he didn’t want to? Or because he couldn’t? Does Asim-senpai himself not know the reasons behind his own actions? But how can someone act without knowing or meaning to, without being under the influence somehow?

Under the influence.

People acted without knowing or meaning to thanks to being under the influence of Buchie-senpai’s Unique Magic during the Magift incident. But he went home, you saw him leave, so what...?

You pull out your notebook, flipping through the pages with sweaty hands until you get to your records of the testimonies from the incident. You scan through the testimonies from Scarabia students, hoping to find something, anything—

Oh.

Oh.

“Motherfucker.” You hiss, staring at the page in dismay. You are an idiot. You are the biggest idiot, you make Deuce look like a genuis, how could you forget about this?? It was only the key testimony that helped pinpoint Buchie-senpai and Savannahclaw as the culprits behind the injuries. And it explains so much— why you kept agreeing to stay here despite wanting to go back to Ramshackle so desperately, almost like your mouth was speaking without your consent.

“Minion?” Grim asks, pushing the water skein back onto you. “What’s wrong?”

You snap your notebook shut and slide it back into your pocket, taking another fortifying swig from the skein. “Grim? Think we can get back soon enough to work on the escape route in our room before the others arrive back for lunch?”

“If we pick up the pace a bit, yeah.” He hops back onto your shoulder. “But what’s the rush? We have all night tonight to work on it.”

“Let’s just say the sooner we can get out of here, the better.” You mutter, cogs and gears turning in your head as a tentative plan begins to form.

This is not how you wanted to spend your winter break.

[refinedbuffoonery]

Looking Through A Window (2)

macriley married undercover au

masterlist.

Oh man. My dudes. I received so much love and support and excited feedback on the first chapter that I thought my heart was going to explode. Y’all are so wonderful. Keep it up. <3

*****

Luckily, Matty lets them take the Phoenix jet to Houston. Flying commercial would make today even more tortuous than it already promises to be, albeit for a different reason. 

No matter how hard he tries to distract himself, Mac cannot stop staring at the diamond ring on Riley’s finger. The princess cut gem is stunning and ridiculously large, but it suits her cover as a lucrative arms dealer. A white gold wedding band sits below it. Riley left her usual assortment of rings at home, and Mac can’t help but think her long, delicate fingers look bare without them. 

He tears his eyes away from the rings again and again, both on the plane and while driving to the safe house. Riley drives with just her left hand, her right elbow resting on the center console. Mac likes driving, but there’s something relaxing about riding shotgun while Riley drives instead. He’s never been able to put a finger on it, but the sense of ease washes over him all the same. Admiring the way sunlight illuminates her engagement ring is simply a bonus. 

He doesn’t let himself imagine what he might give her, in an alternate future where she reciprocates his feelings and one day wants to marry him. 

Harley obediently lays in the backseat, staring out the windshield. She's been on her best behavior the entire twenty four hours Mac's known her, ever the professional. 

Which puts her completely at odds with Mac and Riley's shenanigans—cracking jokes, dancing on the plane and in the car, doing purposefully bad impersonations of Russ. These are the best parts of going on ops alone with Riley. They can let loose in a way they just couldn’t when anyone else other than Bozer was around. Everyone else is professional all the time; Mac and Riley are only professional when they have to be. 

Riley taps the steering wheel in time to the classic rock song on the radio. “What do you want for dinner?” 

“Dinner? We haven’t even had lunch yet!” 

“True.” Riley chuckles. “Can you tell I’m hungry?” 

Mac gives her a sly look. “Not at all.” 

They settle on Texas barbecue for lunch on their way to the safe house, because that’s what Jack would choose if he was here. If only the old man could see them now, all grown up and getting sent to take down terrorists unsupervised. 

Seated in a booth in the far corner of the restaurant, Mac raises his brisket sandwich in a toast to Jack, in whatever afterlife he found himself in. Hopefully it’s the one with an endless supply of good barbecue. 

“Oh man, Jack would’ve loved this,” Riley says through a mouthful of food. She sneaks Harley a piece of brisket. 

Mac smiles. “Yeah, he would’ve.” 

It’s easier, now, to talk about him. At first, Mac hadn’t been sure he could ever get to a point where talking about Jack didn’t make him want to hit something or just curl up and sob. 

But here he is, on the other side. Him and Riley both. 

Their safe house is another twenty minutes away from the restaurant, in a nice neighborhood full of trees and children playing on the sidewalks. It’s so much greener than a California neighborhood could ever dream of being. There’s even a park across the street from their apartment complex. It’s exactly the sort of place a young, affluent couple would want to live. 

Riley parks in their designated space, and the pair ascend the stairs to apartment number 202. Outside of the car, they don’t dare use each other’s real names until they’re sure the apartment is free of bugs. The place was furnished earlier that week by other Phoenix agents, but Mac and Riley do a thorough sweep of every room just in case. 

It’s a nice apartment. Wood flooring, granite countertops, matching cabinets throughout. There are pictures on the walls, but Mac doesn’t bother to stop and check what they are. 

Riley clears the space from back to front, so Mac does the opposite. He clears the kitchen first, frowning at the absence of any sort of food, before moving on to the living room. 

Mac stops dead in his tracks when he enters the bedroom. The singular bedroom. With a singular, queen-sized bed. 

Oh no. This is not happening. 

Mac shakes his head and rubs his eyes, hoping his mind is just playing tricks on him and that there’s actually two beds. Or a whole other room he missed before. 

The one and only bed seems to mock him. 

He walks back out, finding Riley already sitting at the kitchen table, turning on her laptop. “Uhh, Riles? There’s only—”

“One bed,” she finishes, not bothering to look up. “I know.” 

Oh god. He can’t do this. He can’t. Not with his dignity still intact. Mac stammers, “I’ll, uhh, sleep on the couch. You can have it.”

That gets Riley’s attention. “Don’t be ridiculous. We’re going to be here for weeks. You’ll hurt your back sleeping on the couch that long. Just sleep with me.” Riley’s eyes widen as she realizes what she just said. “In the bed,” she quickly adds. 

Mac ducks his head to hide his blush. 

“What are you working on?” he asks in a feeble attempt to distract himself from their sleeping situation. Because it will definitely be a situation if Mac’s not careful. 

“Connecting to the Wi-Fi,” Riley says in a slow, “What else would I be doing?” sort of way. 

“Right.” Mac silently curses himself. Of course that’s what she’s doing. “Anyway, I’m assuming you already know this, since you probably opened the fridge too, but we have no food.” 

“I saw.” She’s multitasking again, manicured fingers flying faster across her keyboard than Mac can keep track of. “Why don’t you unload our bags while I finish this, and then we can go.” 

Unable to help feeling like he’s been dismissed, Mac complies without protest. 

Soon they’re back in the car, headed to the grocery store, and the whole thing feels ridiculously domestic. Mac’s never been a fan of grocery shopping, but Riley makes it almost...fun. For starters, she’s not methodical about it the way Bozer and Desi are. But more than that, getting to spend time with her doing mundane, non-work stuff is a nice reminder that their relationship is more than just the job. They’re friends too. 

Mac wishes there is a way to tell her all that without it sounding weird. 

They come home, unload the groceries, and take Harley for a long walk, and that feels easy too. It feels normal, even though literally nothing about this situation is normal, and Mac already knows he’ll miss this when the op is over. 

But normalcy ends when Riley beckons Mac to sit beside her at the kitchen table, and together they write an advertisement for their arms dealing business. Once they’re satisfied with it, Riley sends it off into the dark web, and there’s nothing to do but wait, like a spider after spinning her web. 

The waiting is the worst part. 

Mac is contemplating taking Harley for a second walk when Riley asks, “Want to help me make dinner?” He takes one look at her hands on her hips and the “you don’t actually have a choice” look on her face and knows he’ll be left to fend for himself if he doesn’t help now. Mac learned that the hard way back when he and Riley lived together. 

“Sure.” 

They work in comfortable silence. Mac chops vegetables and grates cheese for their quesadillas while Riley does the actual cooking part. Even though they are doing separate tasks, Mac is acutely aware of every move Riley makes, no matter how insignificant. Flexing her long, thin fingers around a knife. Itching the back of her calf with her foot. Dancing in place, spatula in hand, while she waits to flip the quesadillas sizzling in the pan. 

Mac smiles softly. Her random little dances are cute. He’s noticed them more and more since realizing he has feelings for her, but if Mac is being honest, he’s always thought the dances are cute. 

Riley hisses as she peeks under the tortilla, checking to see if it’s browned yet. 

“You good?” Mac asks, frowning. 

“Yeah, I touched the pan by accident.” Riley runs her thumb under cold water. 

Her laptop dings while they eat. Wide-eyed, Mac glances at Riley. That was fast. She grimaces before sliding the laptop closer and checking the notification. 

“Is it them?” he asks tentatively. That’s the hard part about this; in order for their business to look more legit, they had to just put an ad out and hope for a response, rather than target the terrorist organization directly. 

Riley exhales. “No, it’s not them. It’s someone else.” 

Swallowing another bite of quesadilla, Mac says, “I don’t know whether I’m relieved or if that’s worse.” 

“Same.” 

There are no more responses that night.

*****

Mac wakes up in the same position he fell asleep in—on his side, facing outward, with as much space between him and Riley as possible. When they crawled into bed the night before, Riley did the same. 

Harley spent the night on the couch. 

She’s a very guarded dog, Mac is slowly realizing. Tolerating, but not trusting. Mac supposes he would be like that too if he was a dog and he got stuck with a bunch of strangers after his human suddenly disappeared one day. 

He makes coffee, feeds Harley breakfast, and takes a shower, all before Riley loses her battle with the snooze button and finally gets out of bed. While she showers, Mac takes Harley for a walk in hopes that the cool, spring air will ease the anxiety that took root the moment Riley released their ad into the void. 

It doesn’t. 

Dark, puffy clouds loom on the horizon, and the few birds Mac hears shriek at each other in warning. It looks like a storm is coming. 

When Mac returns, he’s met with a grim expression, one he understands without Riley uttering a single word. “They answered,” she confirms. 

“What did they say?” Unclipping Harley’s leash, Mac moves to stand behind Riley, resting his hands on the back of her chair. The scent of her shampoo tickles his nose, and he forces himself to ignore it and focus on what Riley’s saying. 

“They want to meet. Today.” 

“Time or place?” 

Riley points at a small box on her screen. “Just an address.” 

“What’s there?” 

“A warehouse,” Riley says. “Owned by the same shell corporation other Phoenix techs already tied to the organization.” 

“Not very clandestine, are they?” 

“No, they’re not.” Riley looks up at him, her head bumping his sternum, and butterflies ricochet inside Mac’s rib cage. There’s something soft in Riley’s expression that makes Mac want to kiss her. “Are you ready for this?” 

Mac sighs. “As ready as I ever am. Are you?” 

“Yeah,” she says, but her confidence falters. Without thinking, Mac squeezes her shoulders in reassurance before walking away to change.

*****

The warehouse is located on the edge of the city, in an industrial area that has certainly seen better days. Even from a distance, Mac can see cobwebs decorating the warehouse windows and rust creeping up the roller doors. Aside from Riley, there’s not another soul in sight. 

As per the directions the organization sent after Riley confirmed the meeting, Mac parks on the south side of the building, near the only functional-looking door. He doesn’t look at Riley as they get out of the car, instead desperately trying not to cringe at the cold, heavy weight of the gun holstered at his side, hidden beneath his jacket. 

High-end arms dealers couldn’t walk around unarmed, unfortunately. 

Although her hands are occupied with holding Harley’s leash, there’s a gun hidden beneath Riley’s suit jacket as well. Mac’s stomach churns. The second Riley emerged from their bedroom earlier wearing that jet black suit, she was a different person. She was wholly Genevieve Turner, and no matter how hard Mac tried, he couldn’t find even a single trace of his best friend beneath the icy exterior. 

Locking their SUV, Mac smooths the lapels of his own black suit and slips into character as well. 

The dark clouds Mac noticed earlier are directly overhead now. Mac has never believed in omens the way Jack did, but he can’t help hearing Jack’s voice in his head, warning him that black clouds are a sign of certain doom. Or something like that. 

There’s no one inside the warehouse, at least as far as Mac can see. “Hello?” he calls, the word echoing slightly in the open space. Aside from a few random wooden crates, the room is empty. 

A door slams, and then an older man comes into view. He’s probably in his late fifties, with graying hair and a beer belly his shirt doesn’t quite cover. The man swaggers like he owns the place, although Mac doubts the leader of a terrorist cell would deign to play tour guide. 

No doubt there’s a quip on the edge of Riley’s tongue about entitled white men, but she doesn’t share it. 

The man extends a hand to Mac in introduction. “Conrad.” His sneer doesn’t reach his eyes. 

Mac frowns, keeping his hands at his sides. “Last name?” 

“Doesn’t matter.” 

What he’s about to say might screw everything up before it even starts, but Mac says it anyway. In his gut, he knows it’s the right call. “If it doesn’t matter, then we’re done here. My wife and I have no interest in entering a business relationship with someone too inexperienced to understand that trust is integral to any transaction.” Mac spins on his heel and strides toward the door, Riley falling into step beside him. 

“Wait!” the man calls. They pause, turning around slowly. “Deacon. Conrad Deacon.” The man seems to know he’s already lost. Good. “Welcome to the cause.” He gestures for Mac and Riley to follow him. 

Mac stands his ground. In his peripheral, Riley stands utterly still, the perfect mask of cool, collected neutrality. Almost bored, even. It’s scary how easily she becomes her cover. 

“Come on now,” Conrad says, taking a single step forward. “We have much to discuss.” 

That’s enough of the power play, Mac thinks, but just as he’s about to give in and follow Conrad, Riley utters a single, sharp command that rings through the room. “Sit.” 

Harley obeys. 

Riley’s lips curve in a cruel, taunting smile. “Then enlighten us.” Mac suppresses a shiver; he’s seen this side of Riley plenty of times before, watched her hone it over the years, but it’s still unnerving. Admittedly, it’s also kind of hot. 

Conrad ignores her entirely. He croons, “Why don’t we start with your names?” It’s phrased like a question. It sounds like a question, but Mac sees the demand for what it really is. 

Mac gestures to Riley. “This is my wife, Genevieve Turner. And my name is James.” His father’s name tastes like ash on Mac’s tongue. 

“And the dog?” 

“Killer,” Riley sneers. Mac isn’t sure if she’s kidding or not. 

Again, Conrad doesn’t acknowledge her. “James, why don’t I give you the tour and explain what we do here.” 

“We’ll go on the tour, but we are not here to join your cause.” It takes every ounce of Mac’s willpower to maintain his neutral tone. “All we care about is what you’d like us to provide and how much you’ll pay for it.” 

Conrad doesn’t hide his displeasure. “Fine. Follow me.” 

Mac and Riley are led through the open warehouse. The layout is straightforward and nearly impossible to get lost in. But after Conrad shows them a room full of rifles—countless hung on the walls, floor to ceiling, the rest in half-open crates—Mac finds himself counting the number of wooden shipping crates scattered around the building. 

He doesn’t like his final number. 

Arming terrorists doesn’t sit well with Mac, even if it serves a purpose. It makes him sick, knowing he will likely be indirectly responsible for their next attack. 

Especially because those crates are no doubt full of the kind of rifles designed to kill people most effectively. The ones hanging on the wall are military grade, probably cutting-edge. Desi would know exactly what they are and how they work. 

Trusting Riley is paying close attention, Mac only half listens to Conrad babble about the cause. But then the older man says something that stops Mac in his tracks. “Our country is being run into the ground by whiny do-nothings,” Conrad asserts, “who waste our money and spew garbage that some people matter more than others. Well, you know what? Hardworking, everyday Americans matter. But no,” he scoffs, “those damn liberals don’t like it when we remind them of the truth. Once we’re rid of them and the insufferables who elected them, this country will be better off.” 

The ground sways under Mac’s feet. He knows these people believe this, read it in Matty’s extensive briefing notes. But it’s another thing entirely to hear someone say it to his face. 

He can only imagine what Riley must be thinking. 

Clearing his throat, Mac tries to redirect the conversation. “Like I said, we don’t care about your cause. Just tell us what you’re looking for, and we’ll be on our way.” 

Conrad eyes him suspiciously, but complies. “We’re looking for something a little more than what you can get at the store, you know?” 

Mac doesn’t, not exactly. He’ll have to ask Desi later. “I do,” he lies. 

“Good. Here’s what we’re willing to pay for it.” He hands Mac a folded piece of paper, and Mac does a double take when he reads the number. There are a lot of zeroes. “And as a show of good faith, we’d like it delivered tomorrow.” 

“Tomorrow?” Riley splutters. Mac feels it then, the broiling rage slipping through a crack in her persona. He needs to get her out of there. Now. Not just to preserve the op, but for Riley’s wellbeing. Some audacity Matty has making Riley play nice with men like this. 

Mac slides his hands into his pockets, using the movement as a cover to brush his knuckles against Riley’s fist. I know. I’m here. I’m sorry. 

For the first time, Conrad addresses Riley directly. “Yes. Tomorrow. Unless that’s something you can’t do?” 

“We can do that,” she replies calmly, and the difference between her reactions is like night and day. As quickly as that crack appeared, it was gone. 

“Excellent.” Conrad takes another step toward Riley, offering to shake hands, but Harley’s low, menacing growl keeps him at bay. Rewarding the dog with a quick scratch on the head, Riley closes the gap and shakes Conrad’s still-outstretched hand. 

“It’s a deal,” she says. Following suit, Mac shakes Conrad’s hand as well and follows Riley out the door, neither of them uttering another word. 

Mac drives. One look at Riley’s trembling fist decides for him. 

By the time the warehouse disappears from the rearview mirror, he can’t take the silence anymore. “Hey,” Mac starts, but Riley cuts him off with a hand. 

“Not until we’re inside.” 

They hit every single red light between the warehouse and the apartment, and Mac anxiously taps the steering wheel. Raindrops land on the windshield. They’re small at first, but soon the drops are large and numerous enough to refract the streetlights, and Mac struggles to see where he’s going. He adjusts the windshield wipers over and over, never landing on the right speed. 

Too slow. Too fast. Too slow. Too fast. 

Mac settles on a setting that’s slightly too fast, and the squeak of rubber on glass nearly matches his heart thudding in his chest. 

Riley stares straight ahead, unmoving, unblinking. Mac wants to reach out, to let a gentle touch say what he verbally can’t, but the road is slick enough to make him keep two hands on the wheel. We’re almost there, he reassures himself. 

By the time he parks, it’s pouring hard enough that the ten second walk from the car to the door soaks them to the bone. Riley’s hands shake as she unlocks the apartment door. 

Once they’re inside and Mac unclips Harley’s leash, Riley turns to him with pained, pleading eyes. His heart breaking all over again, Mac draws her in for a long, tight hug. She doesn’t say anything. She doesn’t have to. 

Mac just cradles the back of her head and sways gently, wishing he could fix the world for her. 

Neither pulls away, even when Riley suddenly says, “If Conrad was smart, he would’ve had someone bug our car while he paraded us around the warehouse. I don’t think he’s actually smart enough to do that, but we should check first, just in case.” 

Mac curses himself for not thinking of that. “Good call.” He rubs Riley’s back, hoping the gesture is soothing. “I hate the way he treated you,” he snarls. “Like you weren’t even worth acknowledging.” 

“Welcome to being a woman.” 

It was more than that. They both know it. But neither say it.

*****

“You need what?” Matty shrieks over the phone. 

Mac winces. “Sorry.” He’d called Desi first, to ask what kind of guns Conrad meant with his innuendo, and received a verbal lashing for not asking any follow-up questions. But she made her best guess anyway. Now on the phone with Matty, it doesn’t take even a single brain cell to know that her reaction will be much, much worse. 

“He wants us to prove ourselves,” Riley adds. “As a show of good faith.” The words come out dripping in venom, but their boss doesn’t comment. Mac takes a second to study her; Riley changed into leggings and an oversized flannel shirt, and there are still remnants of dark makeup smudges under her eyes. Now, she’s sitting on the kitchen counter with her knees tucked into her chest. It’s weird to see her take up so little space. 

Matty sighs, deeply and loudly in a way conveys her annoyance more than words ever could. “Fine. A few weeks ago, Border Control confiscated a huge shipment of smuggled guns near El Paso, so I’ll see if we can borrow those. But next time, Blondie, don’t make promises you can’t keep.” He doesn’t correct Matty in that it was Riley who made the deal. That would only add fuel to the fire. 

“Thank you,” he says, and Matty hangs up. Mac runs a hand through his damp hair. “That went well.” Riley’s lips twitch, but it’s not the amused reaction he hopes for. He’s at a complete loss regarding what to say to her, so Mac gently asks, “What can I do?” 

Riley slides off the counter, and Mac reaches for her automatically, although he doesn’t actually touch her; his hand hovers just beside Riley’s elbow. She doesn’t shrink away, but she makes no move to touch him either. 

“Help me put him and everyone like him in a deep, dark hole where they can’t hurt anybody. And then just…” she trails off, taking a deep breath. “Keep being you.” 

With that, she walks away, leaving Mac alone in the kitchen, racking his brain to figure out what that last part means.

*****

Later that night, Mac tosses and turns, replaying Conrad’s words. Once we’re rid of them and the insufferables who elected them, this country will be better off. They seem off-kilter, like what the man said and what he really meant are misaligned. Mac sighs, rubbing his face. 

Another bolt of lightning illuminates the bedroom, and Mac automatically counts the seconds until he hears thunder rumbling in the distance. The storm is moving closer. 

Beside him, Riley lies on her back with her eyes closed, although her breathing is too light for her to be asleep. Mac wonders if her mind is just as loud and chaotic as his. 

For Riley’s sake, he hopes it’s not.

*****

Sleep never finds Mac. 

The storm rages all through the night, but by the time dawn arrives, the thunder and wind dissipate, leaving just the steady downpour. The clouds are dark enough that Mac can hardly tell the sun even bothered to rise this morning. 

When Riley’s alarm goes off, it’s like the shrill tone is mocking Mac for being awake. Riley groans as she shuts it off. 

“Morning,” he mumbles. His throat hurts. He needs water. “Did you sleep well?”

Another groan. “No.” 

“At least you slept,” Mac mutters.

Riley rolls onto her side, drawing one of the extra pillows into her chest. “Do you always toss and turn that much?”

It was his fault, he realizes, that she didn’t sleep. Mac suddenly feels guilty. “Sorry. And no.” 

He expects Riley to be upset at being kept awake, but she isn’t. With a look that just might be understanding, she softly asks, “What were you thinking about?” 

Mac can’t say that his thoughts whip around his mind like raindrops in last night’s storm. Not without sounding crazy, at least. So instead he says, “I don’t even know. I just have a bad feeling about this.” 

“Me too,” Riley admits. “It feels off.” Her eyes are heavy, and Mac’s had enough early mornings with Riley to know it’s not just the lack of sleep weighing her down. 

“Go back to sleep. I can handle the delivery.” 

Riley rolls her eyes. “Don’t be ridiculous. I’m not letting you do that by yourself.” 

He doesn’t argue. “Okay.” 

A moment passes between them. It’s been happening more and more lately—holding eye contact a little too long, sharing smirks when no one else is looking, stealing moments where it’s just the two of them and nothing else matters. Each one gives him hope that there’s not a wall between them, but instead, a door. Someone just has to be brave enough to open it. 

Sitting up, Riley quipps, “Just don’t make me regret letting you sleep in the bed with me.” Mac snorts. 

“No promises.”

.

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[tarotnoob]

Pick a Pile: Who’s your soulmate?

Not to be BTS on main, but you’ve probably read references to BTS in previous pick a piles. I love them. They were there for me when I was depressed. I am OT7, ofc, but I have two biases, one of them being Jimin. I think he’s an amazing performer and person. Serendipity is my fav song.

I’d like to honor him with a soulmate pick a card because he’s done a lot for me.

Please take a moment to concentrate, breathe, and choose the pile you’re drawn to based on number, pile, or one of Jiminie’s photos :)

Pile 1

Don’t you dare run away, Pile 1. Let’s figure out what is up with this pile oml

I’m going to clarify all the tarot with the Linestrider.

This is the Serendipity photo pile, so I was expecting something light and fluffy for pile 1. 

Oracles: Truth Be Told - i think - fell out first and as I was putting the deck away, By the Book flopped out so I let it stay. Truth Be Told is essentially about being honest with yourself and others as well as being yourself. By the Book is about not pressuring others to conform to the way you want them to and respecting who they are as an individual (including their background).

Darkness and Void - well, we can’t say these fell out by accident, and it’s fascinating that there’s a bunny in Darkness looking up at the moon when Jimin in the photo is looking up at the (sun) in his photo. Those do remind me of Jimin’s cards, but ANYWAY - should we also talk about all these 4s and 1s in your oracles. Although really it’s 4, 1, 2 (Master 11, rather), 5. Just a little fyi aside, Jimin’s life path number is 11 aka 2. But, without adding them up, there’s synchronicity happening here, which is funny on the Serendipity pile. “All this is no coincidence… Just, just by my feeling.”

Darkness is about doing self-reflection, shadow work, turning inward to explore what isn’t moving us forward. Void is a similar message about a spiritual reset, of letting go and surrendering what isn’t working for you, releasing bad habits, fears or negative thought patterns. This gives me Moon plus Devil vibes.

Connect: I create strong emotional connections with the important people in my life. Dilettante: Delights in the arts without having to be a professional. Alerts you to the danger of becoming superficial in your pursuits. Shadow: Pretension to much deeper knowledge than you actually possess. So this is like “jack of all trades, master of none.” Kinda gives me Gemini vibes. Could enjoy cooking, gardening, sports. 

It’s funny. If you’re a bts fan, this card reminds me of JK because it talks about dabbling in a lot of things, but not making a lot of it. He’s done video editing, played guitar, he cooks. Obviously he’s a professional singer/dancer/entertainer - but on the other side of doing a lot of things/hobbies, but not always following through (ignore the fact even his dabbling is usually exceptional), like his painting.

So you (or them), this should be about them but the cards are probably also giving you a message. But, someone who just likes to explore their interests, has a lot of interesting hobbies, as skillful at a lot of things that they aren’t pursuing as a career. Again, very Gemini. But, Mercury also rules Virgo and I keep getting pulled to Virgo but that’s probably because I talked about him. And Jimin’s moon is in Gemini… I’m not really going to be surprised if his energy snuck in a whee bit here.

I’m going to look at the Tarot and the clarifiers before I pass my conclusion. 

Tower (reversed?), gosh I’ll just give you the full description: When it comes to your love life, the tower reversed indicates that your relationship needs to undergo a few changes. If you want to stick with your partner, then you must put in the work required for it to survive. This usually depends greatly on your ability to calmly and effectively communicate with one another. When you are deciding what must be done to improve your relationship, focus your efforts towards changing on yourself only. Attempts to change your partner rarely go over well. If you can improve your own contributions to the relationship, your partner will likely follow suit.

This already resonates so well with the oracles, but let’s keep going and I’m not clarifying that.

Nine of swords: This is a sense of anxiety, and the moon oracles (besides moon) have a Hermit vibe, as well. Besides Tower (which is Mars), there are a lot of swords here in general, so they could be an air sign, but all these moons could mean they have some water, as well, and the connect also has an emotional feel, so likely an air sign with water or water with a lot of air. And next is Justice, which is the Libra card.

Justice: On a basic level, this person could work in a law-related career, but looking at all the other cards, this more likely has to do with a sense of balance, an equal partnership - where, again, both partners treat teach other with respect and don’t try to change the other. There’s fairness, equality. And if you’ve had previous awful luck in relationships, this could be saying this person will be the answer to what you’ve been wanting (an equal relationship).

Three of swords: (heartbreak, disappointment, miscommunication)

Okay, okay. There’s a theme here. There’s advice here, and then we have crumbs about the person. The big themes here are accepting someone for who they are, honest and open communication, and, essentially, doing the inner work necessary on (yourself) in order to meet this other person half way.

About them specifically? Yeah, I get air vibes mostly, Libra and Gemini (Jimin, can you please step out of this reading - ). Not to mention he’s got Scorpio Venus and Mars and we have these dark, watery oracle cards.

Doesn’t mean he’s not trying to deliver a message to you :)

This person… seems rather… I don’t want to say delicate, but vulnerable because I think they’re going to be a very open person, someone who definitely has a more mercurial mindset, meaning - they think a lot, probably overanalyze, their feelings get hurt easily, they have a natural desire (like Libras often do) for balance and fairness. I think their feelings get hurt easily, they’re sensitive and often need to retreat to think when they’re upset. I think By the Book to THEM, means “golden rule.” Treat others how you deserve to be treated. I think they value honest and open communication - if you lie to them or mislead them, they are going to withdraw from you (hence the Libra next to 3 of swords). 

I think that the relationship will require “teamwork” (reversed Tarot)… If there are issues within the relationship, you’re expected to talk about it. I think they’d appreciate a grounded partner since they have so much air and anxious energy. Don’t get me wrong, this person isn’t high-maintenance. This is just how we air signs are. We think a lot, but we CARE a lot. So if you have a lot of earth in your chart. Fire is also a nice complement to air signs, as well. 

They are going to have a variety of skills they’ll want to share with you, so don’t criticize them. If you aren’t someone who is good at encouraging others and instead always has a critical thing to say - this person… is going to get hurt. They will want to show they care by involving you in their hobbies. They’ll want to make  you dinner or go to the Saturday markets, pick you flowers - very childlike in a way but so, so sweet, so social and communicative. If you don’t know what this vibe is like for this person, you should watch the Serendipity video.

They’re very vulnerable, lovely, romantic, but… a worrier. There’s a lot of moon symbolism here… but like anything there’s a light and dark side to the moon. There’s romance… and then there’s… some dark stuff. And you’ll need to be able to step up to the plate with this person because they might’ve been through some stuff. Someone who’s very nurturing and grounded would be good for them. Also very sincere, honest, but not… overly critical. Definitely someone who wants to think the best of people and the world… even if they have down moments. They’ll want to be really connected to you emotionally and intellectually and will do this through conversation. They’ll probably want to ask you about all kinds of things, from your childhood to your interests to your hopes and dreams or theories on the universe. Oof, I’m so soft for this person.

See, that wasn’t so bad, Pile 1!! Congrats, your soulmate will be someone like Serendipity Jimin xD

—

Pile 2

Pile 2, you picked Lie!Jimin… oof, what an era. Lie gives me Scorpio vibes. Jimin has Mars Scorpio and Venus Scorpio at least, so sex appeal.

I’m drawn to rebel first. I’m not surprised this fell out given the photo. 

Rebel: Challenges authority to effect social change. Rejects spiritual systems that do not serve inner needs. Shadow: Rejects legitimate authority out of anger. Rebels out of peer pressure or fashion. Guide book says this person could be someone politically inclined or an artistic innovator. Sees past tired preconceptions. 

Purpose: My dreams connect me to my Purpose.

Orphaned… I think this resonates with the rebel card. I’ll leave the full description here: https://www.colettebaronreid.com/oracle/orphaned/

This is about someone trying to find their place (within society or their circle). I’m already getting an idea of this person, but let’s do the other oracles.

Release: This is a lot like the Hanged Man. It’s about letting go of patterns or individuals or situations that aren’t serving you. 

Hunger: This is a bit deep. It says: Feed the good and hope within you. Do not let your hunger blindly dictate your actions entirely”. It also tells this story about an old Cherokee telling his grandson that two wolves live within us - one that gives darkness, despair and hate and jealousy and sorrow. And the other that gives light and hope and helpfulness and kindness. And the wolf that wins out is the one you feed. It reminds me of the image on the Moon tarot card. Plus, I swear to g*d that this is so very Lie!Jimin energy. It’s also about recognizing there will just be leaner times in life and making sure we build ourselves up to handle them.

Tarot:

Ace of Needles (Ace of Swords): This can be that you’ll connect on a mental level and find communication easy. This is also about truth and clarity. (I’ll move on and see how it fits with the rest).

Ten of wands: I’m not going to read this negatively, but generally 10 of wands is a sense of feeling burdened or carrying something heavy on your shoulder, which is exactly what I feel with this person. We’ve already talked about this heavy desire to find their place, but also not someone who’s interested in conformity or being locked into a box, and with anyone who… wants to be authentic, but doesn’t want to be ostracized (or alone), there comes a sense of personal burden, to not only be their authentic selves, but to see so many others in the world who force others to conform or feel forced to conform and in experiencing that desire to be themselves, they seem to be someone interested in social justice.

The High Priestess: (more Moon) energy…  this person likely is in touch with their divine feminine energy. Like Jimin, he’s beyond ridiculous gender stereotypes. If you caught his Filter performance this weekend, you know he promotes this concept of… he can wear women’s clothes and look good in them, he’s someone who can attract all genders to him (regardless of sexuality even)… it’s a very gender fluid notion. It could be that this person (regardless of gender) is a feminist, an equalitarian, socially and politically progressive, or should I say socially and politically AGGRESSIVE. Or should I say for rapline: UGH-gressive. Haha, bts joke. 

The Chariot: This is usually about being very focused, focused will, often the Career card, also Cancer card (again more Moon, more watttteeer). Lots of fluidity and emotions. So, being political or… all of these emotions or thoughts that surround this person’s… passion for non-conformity and social or cultural or whatever stereotypes could actually be part of their career/life purpose.

Putting it altogether, I think this person could be a water sign. Someone who’s not a loner, per se, but someone who definitely marches to their own tune. They stand up for what they believe in, they are intensely passionate about only putting themselves in situations where they feel like their circle is authentic and not like a fake progressive as some people are. They won’t hop on the cancel train because it’s trending, they’ll do so if they believe in it. I’d say they’re highly political or definitely very vocal in political debates or at least feel strongly about their beliefs. Passion is definitely their purpose. If you’re fake, if you don’t care, if you sit on the fence - this person isn’t likely to respect you, though, I should say they’d respect your opinion within reason… I don’t see them as just being belligerent about their beliefs because that would be obnoxious and make them slightly hypocritical. It’s more a sense of… a lone wolf content to do their own thing but really they’re looking for their tribe/pack. There’s something very restless about their energy.

I do think it’s okay to say appearance-wise they will be… very sexy, very alluring, very intense and enigmatic… possibly even more of a “feminine” beauty if they identify as male and if they are female-identifying, then just… sexy and intense. Definitely scorpio vibes here, possibly with a bit of fire because there’s so much raw passion here. I think you can just look at the oracles and get a good idea of this person’s energy - strong, proud, a little lonely, full of passion and purpose, a rebel…  my only advice would be this person is so… their energy isn’t slow… this isn’t someone who just… sits under a tree writing poetry every day. Meaning, you’re going to need to keep up with their (fast) pace and high intensity emotions. And the other thing is as I’m thinking about the one scorpio I dated is that they can go a little… tunnel-vision. They can be possessive, jealous, emotional, secretive (High Priestess). Mysterious. Keep thoughts to themselves. It’ll be important to make sure communication is clear here as are boundaries and expectations so they don’t steamroll you.

But hey, did I mention they’ll be sexy? Wink wonk. Priorities, Pile 2.

—

Pile 3

Pile 3, you picked Promise!Jimin. Promise is a sweet, sad song… but we’ll see how its vibe fits in with the cards. Is it sweet, though? It’s a sweet melody. It’s a sweet way of talking about how to handle troubles (within a relationship and then individually). Talking about being someone’s light, but being your own light, too.

First off, it’s not here, but I’m getting Empress vibes because of the Mother and Faith card. Also Peace and co-create have this sense of “birth.” Birth can mean anything from actual parenthood to creative birth or the birth of love or self-love. All of these things fall under the Empress (Libra/Taurus - Venus).

I’m not surprised 7 of cups fell out first because the cards, themselves, fell out in an uncertain way… I wasn’t sure if I should take five of pentacles and 10 of cups because they flopped out, and - that’s usually symbolic of the energy.

I’m not going to give the full descriptions of these oracle cards but this is Wisdom of the Oracles and if you google them, they all come up.

Not For You - is, kind of literally what it means… the situation, a person, a belief, the timing isn’t right, etc…

Peace - in terms of relationships, this has two of cups vibes. This is a harmonious relationship, so much so that you feel an inner peace because of how you connect with the other person.

Breathe - this is being patient, needing time to open up, remaining calm, avoid getting tensed up over things

Co-create - Relationship Message: “Connections of the heart serve to inspire you, opening you up to new ideas you would never have come to on your own. You are looking in a mirror held up by this experience and seeing yourself in an unexpected way. Who is this extraordinary being looking back at you? You are going to be so happy that you kept your heart open! Your love is a unique work of art now, the very embodiment of beauty.”

I thought I’d put the whole thing because, this is all very Empress, two of cups energy… this person could be very well mirror you in a lot of ways. You’ll feel like when you’re with them there is some sort of divine connection as if you’ve always known them, as if you can speak or not speak at all and they understand you with just a look or a single word. You can sit together and say nothing and feel perfectly content. 

Not For You - I want to talk about this, to me, this is probably about divine timing. There is very likely someone very special designated for you, possibly someone you’ve known in other lifetimes because that is going to be how it feels when you meet them. This person will make you feel very calm and you will do the same for them. They may be particularly creative, they may be into spiritual practice, including yoga or just… naturally be someone with an open heart and mind.

I’m realizing now you got the welcome oracle and Jimin’s got his arms open as if welcoming you. Bless his heart. It says “When I dream, I invite limitless magic into my life and I welcome my spirit guides to show up in wondrous and unexpected ways.” If anything, I think this alludes to the way your spirit tribe is going to be working to make all the proper preparations for your meeting with this person and again just believe and be open to the idea of destiny.

I think that resonates with the Mother and Faith - have faith in the universe and your guides. Mother is - Nurturance, patience, unconditional love. Joy in giving birth to life.” To me this is about being overflowing with love of the purest kind, like a mother to a child (figuratively, I mean, as all mother-child relationships are different, ofc).  This woman in Faith and the Mother, too, are just so open and welcoming and full of love and peace and the ability to create something of beauty. 

As for the tarot:

7 of cups is usually… indecision, illusion, daydreaming, multiple choices, lots of emotions happening at once… five of pentacles is usually about… some kind of spiritual or financial lack or waiting or seeking help when it’s right around the corner but you’re not necessarily… seeking it out… and then 10 of cups is usually ultimate emotional contentment/happiness/fulfillment. 

I think the message here is layered. Since you’re being guided to be patient and open to this connection, I think on the one hand this emphasizes this idea of daydreaming and fantasizing….  and this idea of being “pregnant” with options and feelings…. but it also indicates an uncertainty…  the five of pentacles may give the sense that you might be doubting whether it’s going to happen but, again, to trust in the process and your guides because happiness awaits you in the future. I want to actually clarify real quick too.

 Interesting. 

Seven of cups is clarified by Tower. It actually popped out as I was shuffling with a bunch of other cards and came out again so that’s legit. This could indicate that you or they might’ve had… a lot of failed relationships so you’re a little uncertain about THE ONE ever showing up, but in my experience (though I haven’t met THE ONE, all the failures build you up to be ready to handle THE ONE once the universe aligns everything). I just sense more in you than this person (but if you’re mirroring each other it’s one in the same), that you just… there could be big stuff in here in terms of disappointment and romantic hurt, so I’m not brushing over that, but the focus isn’t on the pain… it’s more like this is… in the past because then five of pentacles has Temperance clarifying it, and this is healing, especially spiritual healing, coming into balance, moderation (patience), also Sag energy. It’s a fairly spiritual pile, not surprised with 3.

I feel like this sense of feeling sort of lost has occurred due to (x) reasons that aren’t important right now, and then I see spiritual healing, I see… loneliness, but under all that you still have hope and still dream of something more. It’s pretty amazing how well it fits the lyrics for Promise, yeesh. I’m getting emotional.

Finally 10 of cups clarified by 4 of cups. This gives me the sense again of waiting. It’s like there’s ambiguity here, but I’m reading it as - again - this is about divine timing so it’s like “hi we’re your guides, we’re buffering rn.”

It’s also got similar vibes to 7 of cups…  it’s also this sense of not having faith when you should because, well, it’s coming, so don’t give up… and make sure to keep your (heart) open to this because it will be offered and you can’t just sit and ignore it because this one cup is equal to 10 cups.

This pile touched more on the journey and yourself whereas the others had more details about the person but my feel is that they’re very similar to you anyway, at least where it matters… it’s a sad pile, but there’s a sense of destiny and future peace and calm and harmony and spiritual help and timing… of love that’s so pure it’s kind of like… how you expect the creator to feel about its creations. It’s definitely screaming divine soulmate here.

If I could say anything about them is that they’ll be nurturing and patient and feel similarly to how you do when you’re together…  maybe they’ll already have children or be good with kids or be a bit childlike in terms of idealism, faith, hope.

I think they’ll be a creative person and have creative thoughts…  I think they’ll be spiritually in tune with you and the universe by the time you meet. Again looking at Not For You, it’ll be important to pay attention to signs and messages, the chess pieces make me think there’s a strategy in place, letting the pieces be set up how they need to be…  there’s angels and guides involved, asking you to have faith and keep your heart open, to practice self-love, nurturing yourself so that you know how to nurture someone else, so that you’re whole by the time you meet your person…  and eventually when you look back, you’ll see how all these strings of events led up to this moment and the moment couldn’t have happened without all those ups and downs… so anyway.

That’s what I see for you Pile 3. I’m quite envious. Stream Promise :)

[canyouhearthelight]

The Miys, Ch. 112

Whew! Okay.  Happy last-chapter-of-Spooptober!  I hope we all made it through okay.

This chapter is dedicated to @zazen-rabbit and our pumpkin carving antics in the past. I love carving pumpkins, and this chapter is the payoff to the month-long references to enormous jack-o-lanterns.  You want to know what they look like, right? Right. And thanks, as always, to @baelpenrose for your beta-reading and input. It made this chapter so much fun to write, and it always makes writing so much more fun to have someone to bounce ideas off of in real time.

Before anyone objects, @charlylimph-blog also beta-read this chapter and gave full approval. If you don’t know what I’m talking about, even after reading the chapter, then thank you ;)

On an serious note, since this is the last chapter before the big day: if you live in the United States, go vote by November 3. Too many people have fought and died for the right to vote in the U.S. for any of us to decide not to vote.  And there are too many people in this country who have lost the right to vote for unfair, racially motivated reasons for us to dare skipping out.

At some point, the pumpkins were finally scooped completely free of seeds and stringy goop, all of which was carefully stored to be used later as ingredients.  Finally, those of us who dared were set loose with sharp objects and abject glee to start carving, in our own unofficial competition.  Conor, Maverick, and Coffee took a well earned break and drank cocoa that had manifested from somewhere probably-Charly-related.

Arthur and Grey each took on their own enormous squash, carving with various implements in complete silence.  Tyche and I, on the other hand, were tag-teaming one at a time, moving with a similar precision to when we cooked together - she would carve the bulk of the spaces, while I focused on finicky tricks of the light and filigrees. I couldn’t see Charly over her pumpkin, but she was suspiciously quiet and I could see Simon eyeing her with worry.

Two hours later, I was seriously concerned with how anyone was carving these on their own.  My hands and shoulders were cramped into knots, and I had help. A soft tune was drifting over from Charly, who was apparently humming while she just kept carving away.  Tyche had very, very carefully climbed/been lifted out of the first pumpkin and was working on the second one.  Grey and Simon looked finished, while Arthur was studying his with a very serious expression that confused the hell out of me.

Especially considering that this side of his jack-o-lantern was untouched. Curious….

Eventually, I was done and trying to shake and massage feeling back into my fingers.  Charly was still going, but spoke as she saw me stand up. “Almost done!” she promised, one hand bracing herself and the other carefully cutting away a few final bits.  I shook my head with a laugh and wandered back over to our ‘fire’.  Before we started our carving, we promised that each person who finished had to wait and face away from any pumpkin but their own, and everyone looked like they had kept their word.  As tired as I was, I was nearly twitching to see what everyone else had done.

Finally, finally Charly came bouncing over and didn’t even bother sitting down while we all stood and turned to look at the finished products.

I had just enough time to take in Simon’s - surprisingly, a werewolf-Riding-Hood howling at the moon from a cliff - when Arthur started swearing. “Are you fucking serious, Reids?”

I smothered a grin and turned, doing my best impression of Charly’s most innocent face. “What?”

“They’re…lace…” Grey answered, much more calmly. “All the way around… You two turned them into… lace.”

“A bit sturdier than that,” Tyche corrected.  “But, yeah.”

Bravely, Simon ran a hand over the closest one. “There’s actually more here than you think,” he pointed out, almost confused. “Some of this isn’t cut all the way through.”

“Nope,” I grinned. “That’s how you get different shading.  Some of it is solid, just really thin.”

Grey nodded in understanding and I soon saw why: they had carved an optical illusion for their lantern.  When standing on one side, it was a beautiful young woman. But look at it from the other side - 

“Holy rabies, it’s The Phantom of the Opera,” Paden half gasped, half squealed.

“And Christine Daae, yes,” they smiled slightly. “I never was allowed to carved these when I was a child, so it became my favorite thing each year after I left my parents’ home.”

Charly let out a low whistle. “That is some serious carving skill.”

“Let’s see yours,” Simon turned eagerly, followed quickly by the rest of us.

Not to be outdone, Charly had carved an entire flower garden full of butterflies, birds, and fairies.  There was even a….

Oh. Oh hell no. 

Before I could stop myself, I let out an ear-piercing shriek and turned to run.  Conor and Maverick, confused as they were, quickly caught me and held me despite my struggles.  I was sobbing hysterically when I heard Charly’s voice speaking in a confused tone, although I could not make out the words.  Soon, I felt a small, familiar hand on my elbow.

“Sophia, it’s just a carving of a bunny,” Tyche explained slowly. “It’s not even real.” A brief pause. “Oh, you two better not say a damned thing, I mean it. She’ll explain later, she just needs to calm down.”

Arthur’s voice trailed in. “I knew about the bunnies, but I have some serious questions later.”

“Oh, noooo…” Charly practically shouted in what I could now realize was an entirely insincere tone, followed by a wet thud. “Simon tripped and kicked my pumpkinnnnn… the rabbit is now a rock…”

“But I didn’t - “

“If you don’t shut the fuck up,” she hissed. “I had no idea about the rabbits.”

“I really hope no one is afraid of aliens or werewolves,” Simon sighed wearily. “Especially… Charly are they making out?”

“Yep!”

“Seriously you two,” Tyche sounded like she turned away. “That’s not even remotely…. A… Joke, apparently? You actually carved that...”  She shook my elbow. “Sophia. Seriously. Alien making out with werewolf.”

I had calmed down just enough that my curiosity was peaked.  Slowly, I turned away from Conor and Maverick and back to the Pumpkin of Lapine Doom.  Sure enough, there was a hole where the rabbit had been, and as I followed around to what everyone was staring at… Yep. Alien. Werewolf. Kissing.

“Huh.” I was actually shocked out of any remaining anxiety I had. “That’s pretty cool, actually.”

“At this point, I feel like mine is rather anticlimactic,” Arthur sighed as dramatically as I had ever heard him - which wasn’t much, but it was at least noticeable. “There is no murderous mammal, or filigree lantern, or optical illusion.” Without further words, he flung his hands toward his lantern in a ta-da gesture.

“Oh, wow,” I whispered, echoed by nearly everyone. 

Instead of any tricks or intricate patterns, his pumpkin was a straightforward, three foot tall face.  A cross between a skeleton and a smile, it was eerily familiar.  The eyes were enormous - easily half the entire face - and just wide and empty spaces.  Two vertical lines made up the nose, while the mouth curled up and around cartoonishly until the corners stretched beyond the outside edges of the eyes.

“It’s Jack Skellington,” Tyche said, doubtfully. “From that really old movie.  But… something is different. I can’t put my finger on it.”

It was Conor who figured it out first. Leaning over, he tapped gently where the cheeks would be on the face. “These symbols.  I don’t think they were there originally.”  Sure enough, both ‘cheeks’ were covered in geometric patterns. 

“They look Terran Muslim,” Grey guessed.

Arthur shook his head, however. “Celtic, but I can honestly say you weren’t as off base as it sounds. Muslim art uses a lot more intricate geometry, though.” Clearing his throat, he stared through the pumpkin. “One of my students, Before, used to make a jack-o-lantern like this every year. When I decided to carve one, I figured… hell, why not?”

After a moment of silence, it was Simon who finally threw his hands up in the air. “Oh, nothing special he says… anticlimactic he says… Let me just show up lace, and illusions, and smooching cryptids by casually carving a memorial to a student. No big deal….”

Arthur narrowed his eyes at Simon dangerously, prompting me to step in between them. Before I could say anything though, Arthur shrugged the comment off. “Why not? We’ve decided it’s October, so it would be the time of year for ghosts, and Halloween was always her favorite holiday. I know at least a few of my former students are somewhere on board the Ark, and we all carry her spirit with us.”

“You come pre-haunted,” Tyche nodded seriously.  Somehow, it didn’t sound that ridiculous.

After all, weren’t we all?

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[itdobe-foggy]

Bundle of Joy (Aaron Hotchner x reader)

Requested:  no Warnings: CUTENESS AND AARON HOTCHNER HAPPINESS Word Count: 1,254

You and Garcia were shifting around, fidgety as all hell. This was the longest 5 minutes of your life. This is happening. It felt like time stopped when you bought the test and took it home. It was a weird feeling. It seemed as though your heart stopped but at the same time, it felt like it was beating out of your chest. 

You and Garcia were shifting around, fidgety as all hell. This was the longest 5 minutes of your life. This is happening. It felt like time stopped when you bought the test and took it home. It was a weird feeling. It seemed as though your heart stopped but at the same time, it felt like it was beating out of your chest.

Of course, you and your fiancé would be so happy to bring your own bundle of joy into the world but there were always risks. You could miscarry, you could have a stillbirth, it might be born prematurely. 

While you are on the verge of hyperventilating from anxiety, Penny is shaking you. The timer was finally going off. Who knew 5 minutes could feel like a lifetime? You slowly walked into the bathroom alone where the test lie in wait of you to check it. Penelope said she didn’t want to intrude. You stood there, shocked as ever. 

This feeling was pulling your head around like a roller coaster. You were happy that you are going to be having a baby with Aaron but at the same time, there was a part of you that doubted if he would be as happy because of his job and he didn’t want a repeat of Haley. 

As you saw the little plus sign appearing on the test, you dropped it. You screamed and heard Penny wobbling her way to the bathroom. As she came closer and closer to the door, she started shouting. 

“What is it? What is it? Is everything ok?” She entered the doorway and saw you standing there, smiling so hard, your cheeks started to hurt. 

“Penny, I’m having a baby!” Of course, as soon as you said this, she squealed in happiness for you, Aaron, and a new member of the team. Right now, they were away on a case so you were at the BAU with Garcia, waiting for their return. They went to Ohio on a spree killing. You didn’t work there but knew a lot due to Aaron. 

As soon as Penelope had gotten the phone call that they were on their way home, you began to panic. How would you tell him? That was the only thing on your mind. You couldn’t just throw the test at him and yell, “Catch!” That was stupid. Funny, but stupid.

You wanted to get this just right. So you did what women do best. You went shopping. Not for a whole lot. Just a card. A father’s day card. He’ll think it’s because of Jack but it’s also for the addition. 

You were extraordinarily excited. Would you have a boy or a girl? What would you name them? Who would be the godparents? So many questions ran through your mind even though you just found out about this baby.

When you checked out and got into your car, you started to think of what to write down at the bottom. “You’re the best father to our small but big family.” It’s cute. It implies it but doesn’t entirely give it away. Well, it probably does because he reads people for a living but that’s beside the point. 

When you returned, it was still just you and Penelope. Now she would wait inside his office with you, anxious for their return. You two kept looking out the window frequently hoping, yet also not hoping, to see them walk through the doors. She got a notification that they landed and were 20 minutes away. 

Now, it’s time to calm your heart rate. Garcia walked and waited outside as per usual. She was so excited but this was your moment. 

The 20 minutes flew by because of all the thinking you were doing. Thinking of names, about reactions, and sadly, the possibility of a false positive. What if all of this hope and joy was for nothing? That was such a depressing thought that you couldn’t bear to think about.

Alright, this was it. You saw the team walking in slowly, all with their heads down. Hopefully, you could change the mood. For everyone. 

Aaron slowly ascended the stairs to his office, not expecting to see anyone in there. He was pleasantly surprised when he saw you.

“(Y/N), I wasn’t expecting you here. It’s almost 9 o’clock, what are you doing here?” Haha. He was totally unsuspecting of anything. So of course, you made up an excuse. Well, it wasn’t fully an excuse. You were there to give him something for Father’s day, just not quite what he was expecting. You looked out the window to see Garcia staring right back at you. Now was your chance.

“Oh, nothing. Just thought I’d surprise you and give you a little something.” Again, not entirely a lie. Just partially. But he was already onto you. 

“(Y/N), “ he said in a warning voice. Signaling that he wasn’t angry just wanted the truth.

“Here. Open it. You’ll really like it.” You were too excited to hesitate. You wanted to jump in his arms and scream it to the world. You were so happy. This was the second-best thing it happen. The first being him proposing.

“I don’t understand. Why did you get me a card?” Still unsuspecting. Hopefully. Maybe he already knew but wanted to hear it come from your mouth. Who knows? Only he does. Right now anyway. 

Questionably, he looked up with furrowed brows. Confusion was written all over his face. You couldn’t help it. The grin on your face began to grow, quickly. As he just stood there, staring at you, you started to speak and squeal.

“Aaron, come on. I’m pregnant!” You finally said it. As your smile got bigger, his face began to shine. He was happy. Of course, he was. He was going to be a father to a new baby! Jack was going to be a big brother!

As your family flashed through your mind, Aaron dropped his suitcase and picked you up, spinning you around. He was absolutely beaming. He, too, wanted to shout it to the world. So he did. 

He stepped out of his office, still with his face overcome by a smile. He didn’t want to wait to tell them. He was so extraordinarily happy. 

“Everyone, we’re having a baby!” Everyone looked up, smiles forming on their faces as well. They all started hooting and hollering and just making all kinds of noises. Emily, JJ, and Penelope all ran up to hug you. Rossi, Morgan, and Reid followed behind them, slower of course. All around congratulations coming from every team member. As everyone quieted down, someone began to talk.

“Hey, why don’t we have a celebratory dinner at my house?” Of course, the Italian would say it. He loved cooking, he loved the team, and he also loved children. He said everyone could bring their family. David himself said he’d bring Joy over. And no one dared to say no to SSA David Rossi. 

Filled with smiles, Aaron said that for the dinner, they would have the weekend off. While everyone asked you questions, David walked up to Aaron. 

Softly, he spoke. “How and when are you gonna tell Jack?” Aaron hadn’t thought about it yet, he was just too happy. He explained that he wasn’t quite sure yet but of course he would tell him. Jack would be so excited to have a little sibling. You just knew it

But as of right now, you and Aaron have some thinking to do and some excited FBI agents to deal with.

@arganfics​ @good-heavens-chris-evans​

[space-helen]

Where Have You Been? - Chapter 11

Words: 1000

Pairing: Jack Thompson x Reader

PART 1 - CH1   CH2   CH3   CH4   CH5

PART 2 - CH6   CH7  CH8   CH9  CH10

PART 3 - CH11   CH12   CH13

______________________

You swung the door open to Jack's office and reached for a file on his desk “I’m telling you Mr Cook has been running the whole thing since Mr Martin was arrested. I was so dumb to let him go.” you flipped open the file on the relevant pages and slapped it down of the desk for Peggy and Daniel to see. 

You rubbed your hands across your face before storming out in the bullpen “I want 3 of you to go to Mr Cook’s house and if he’s there arrest him and bring him in. I want a team of you at Agent Sanchez’ wedding reception venue scouring the property for any evidence or witnesses you can find. The rest of you chase up leads on anyone that is connected to Mr Martin and Mr Cook that might have taken the Chief and bring them in if they aren’t already behind bars.”

You moved back into Jack’s office and sat in his chair “I guess you’re taking responsibility of the branch now.” Daniel questioned.

You looked at him quizzically “huh?”

“I mean the way you just commanded that room and everyone’s following your orders. You’re sitting in the Chief’s chair.” Daniel stopped for a second “What I’m trying to say is that someone has to now head the New York branch while Jack is missing and that can either be you, and you’ve proven you’re capable, maybe too closely associated and have a conflict of interest, but nonetheless capable of running the branch, or me or Pegg can take over.”

You weighed it up “I’d love to but I’m not sure that’s a decision I should be making.”

“I think Jack would want no one else to be leading the investigation.” Peggy added, coming forward and putting a hand on your shoulder.

“Alright I’ll do it.”

Daniel Nodded “Alright Chief Y/L/N, where do you want us?”

The rest of the night had been hectic, people coming in and out of your office and presenting leads to you. “We’ve brought someone in.”

“Who is it?”

“Mr Cook’s old friend Michael Days, there’s proof that they’ve been in contact with each other recently.” 

You walked up to the Agent and took the file and documents from him “Get him ready for an interrogation. I’ll be over in a second.”

You downed some water and picked up some more files from your desk before quickly heading to the interrogation room, Peggy caught you by your bicep and you stopped in your tracks. “Y/N are you sure that you’ll be able to handle this?”

“I’ll be fine Peggy. We just need to find him soon.”

“I’ll watch the interrogation and if I see anything I don’t like I’m pulling you out.”

“Fine.” you shrugged out of her grasp and into the interrogation room, the door clicking shut behind you. You looked at the well dressed man sitting at the table, his face held a smug smile. “Mr Days, I’m just going to cut right to the chase.” 

You sat opposite the man “From our investigation so far we know that you’ve been involved with Mr Cook. You two were, well I supposed I could say are still good friends correct?” 

You paused and waited for his reply but the man stayed quiet and relaxed into his seat. “The silent treatment huh? All I want to know is where Mr Cook is. You don’t have to give anything else up just his location. Hey, who knows we might even let you walk free after if you cooperate.”

He slowly leant forward, his chair squeaked under his movement. “You know and I know that I’m not walking free so there’s no point me telling you where he is. I’ll give you one thing though.” he leant back “That body with the gunshot wound. I shot him, another guy getting anxious about plans so there was only one way to deal with him.” he shrugged. “I know they took your Chief but what intrigues me is how upset you look. He’s more to you than just a boss, you care for him don’t you? I heard he cares for you since he gave us that information, albeit false, to make sure you were safe.” 

“Where is he.” you asked coolly.

“He’s probably wondering where you are. That’s if he’s conscious.”

“Where is he.”

“Knowing what they have in store for him.”

You slammed your hands down onto the table and shouted “Where is he!”

There was silence for a second before he leant forward and spoke “What, am I getting under your skin?”

You harshly pushed the table into the man and winded him before storming out of the room. You heard Peggy's footsteps trying to catch up with you but you were soon pushing the Chief’s office door open and sliding into the chair. 

Running your hands through your hair they caught on the sunflower which was clinging onto it’s position. You gently took it in your hands and brought it in front of you, this was all it took to properly break you, unstoppable tears streaming down your face.

Peggy walked in just in time to see you crack, she instantly came to your side and hugged you. “It’s going to be ok. We’ll find him.”

“This always happens to me. I’ll never be happy. It’s all my fault.”

“Don’t you dare blame this on yourself.” you pulled away from Peggy and wiped at your cheeks, silent tears streaming now. Peggy knelt beside you, “I’ll finish the interrogation. I want you to stay in here and go through files, have a coffee and I’ll tell someone to get you something to eat. I know you, you just need to cool down and you’ll be on the top of your game” she put a hand on your leg and gave it a reassuring squeeze before pushing herself up to her full height. 

“Thank you Peg.”

“We’ll get to the bottom of this.”

Next Chapter

Tag List: (open)

Jack Thompson: @fandomsandxfiles @itsmissdahliahayward​ @vintagelavenderskies @britishcorporal @ravennaofasgard @spunky-89​ @darkusangelus96 @marinettepotterandplagg @fandomsandxfiles-writes​ @okkulta​ @gavemesomuchtoremember​ @remmyswritings  @marvel-jackt-loki-buck

All MCU:

[pianoperson]

Ikerev x Twisted Wonderland Crossover HCs

Did a dump in two of the Discord servers I’m in, so I wanna put them here and add other things

Sirius and Trey talking about the hardships of taking care of their group as they do gardening

Ace and Fenrir hitting it off immediately and do dumb things. Kalim will definitely join in.

Deuce and Ray being forced in their shenanigans

Probably they’ll bond over the fact they have a past they don’t like very much

Seth and Vil talking about beauty products and Cater introducing Seth to Magicam

Seth and Cater may or may not notice that they both hide some dark things in their past

Luka and Jamil cooking together and talking about how rowdy their companions are

Edgar coming in to see Luka and sees Jamil and both of them immediately take note of the shadiness each other has

Tweedle 👏 twins 👏 meeting 👏 Leech 👏 twins 👏 Floyd and Dalim may end up going wild together and Dean will talk to Jade seeing that he’s the more ‘mature’ one, not knowing that Jade is just as chaotic but more lowkey. Jade, however, will pick up the shadiness oozing off of Dalim. Oh and he probably researched about all the Ikerev guys wwwww

Lancelot talking to Malleus as they exchange knowledge about their magic. Sebek may be overprotective and will try to fight him but Malleus will stop him.

Lancelot: Hmm... reminds me of a certain right-hand man I know

Silver, Mousse, and Leona napping in the gardens

Loki and Ruggie causing mischief with their magic together (poor Oliver)

Let’s hope Chenya is there so we can have Cheshire Cat meetup!

Kyle getting his ass drunk in Mostro Lounge and Oliver is just done with him

Azul: As long as I’m earning from this...

YO OK BLANC AND LILIA, OLD MAN MEETUP they talk about what happened in their worlds for the past 500 years and just have inside jokes about being grandpas

Blanc will show Lilia his records and Lilia would be like damn and I just rely on my memories lmao

Look, please give me Zero and Jack handing out lollipops and just being good bois 😭🥺

Ortho will be going around excitedly because WOW NEW PEOPLE NEW VISITORS NEW PEOPLE FOR NII-SAN TO BEFRIEND

He’s gonna end up bringing Harr with him to meet his brother and oh my the awkwardness :’)

Please, if Luka and Epel interact, they’re going to be ranting about the people they want to avoid (Jonah and Vil respectively)

Ok, there’s the obvious: Jonah and Riddle having tea time and bonding over sweets maybe, even wondering why tf do they sound so similar

But honestly?? I really want Jonah to interact with Azul and Jack.

NO NO LISTEN

Jack and Jonah are both righteous and noble, very tsun too

I want Jonah to end up in Savanaclaw and the students see his pretty doll-like face and think he’s easy prey and looks so fragile and decide to gang up on him for trespassing

Jack sees that and rushes to stop them but

Wow those moves, that agility, that badassery

And Jonah’s gonna say one badass noble line about how ganging up on someone is a cowardly move and oh is that Jack’s tail wagging like crazy?

And ever since that day, Jack has admired Jonah and every time the Queen of Hearts dares come within 20ft of his range, Jack’s tail will start wagging with excitement

Welcome to the Heart Defenders, Jack, now just sign here and you will be an official member

As for Jonah and Azul, well at first they won’t completely get along, considering Azul is shady af while Jonah is honest and prudent

But probably one of their heated conversations will have Azul admit his past and Jonah will relate because both of them have been bullied and it’s what drove them to work hard so no one would step on them again

Nonetheless, Jonah will tell Azul that his methods aren’t morally correct

[ashintheairlikesnow]

I saw you mention that Jake is a lightweight, so here’s me begging that we get some drunk Jake content at some point 🥺😭💞 or at least get to hear what type of drunk he is, it’d make my friggin day

CW: Alcohol use

Tagging @burtlederp, @finder-of-rings, @endless-whump, @whumpfigure, @stxckfxck, @slaintetowhump

Takes place after the Safehouse Raid. Also features a fact about Chris that was mentioned on his intake paperwork but may have slipped your notice at the time!

Addie doesn't drink and she doesn't eat meat, so when Jake wants to chill with something to take the edge off before he has to really buckle down to study - and a giant burger with fries - he has to do that alone.

Well, not alone - he's never alone here, and wouldn't want to be. Antoni is responsible for the burgers and homemade fries, Leila is next door at Naomi's house watching some TV show and laughter drifts out Naomi's window loud enough that Jake can hear it all the way through theirs.

Leila’s probably going to move out soon, and they’ve gotten word of a bonded pair of rescues that might need to move into the space Krista and Leila have left behind. Might not be much longer they have this particular group together.

Well... Antoni and Chris probably won’t go anytime soon. Antoni has shown no interest, and Chris... probably wouldn’t last long. 

Nat's out at a group meeting, and Jake chose not to go with. He goes to fewer meetings, now, since the raid. He stays close to home, keeps his head down. Talks to a few people he knows really well, yeah, and meets up with the frat guy on campus for coffee and, like, talking shit out, but mostly Jake is pretty happy to just... stay here. Talk to the rescues, and Nat, and call his mother on the phone so she can disapprove of his life choices.

For now, Jake is eating, Antoni cleaning up from cooking, and Chris... Chris makes drinks.

"Did, um, did it for, for-for for Sir every day," Chris says brightly, as if talking about a trip to the zoo rather than the details of a daily horror. "Gin and, and tonic, cold as it gets without, um, without... being, being ice. Little, little bit of lemon, plus a, a, a a a twist of peel on the, the side. Or limes, he, he, he he he-he... he liked lime with gin a, a lot..."

"I don't like those, thanks, I don't even think we have gin." Jake puts his hands up in the air, smiling. He has a mostly empty Jack and Coke in front of him - second one, actually - and he feels mostly relaxed, a gentle warmth spreading through his shoulders and down his back. Less angry, and he’s angry all the time these days, not that he wasn’t before.

"Not a gin and tonic kind of guy."

Not like he'd drink the same thing as that goddamn asshole smarming up the fucking television anyway. The fucking Governor... Jake can’t even see him any longer, and unfortunately they’re going into an election year and the smug fuck’s all over the TV with his advertisements now. If Jake could just get ahold of that video of Chris... Jesus, he could end the Governor’s career, his whole life.

Maybe if he could find that video, it’d have some kind of identifying... something that could help them figure Chris out, more. His real name, whether or not he has any family... but no, the video had mentioned a legal guardian, and Chris - terrified and looking an inch from tears - had mentioned Aunt Jo, Joanne... Jake can’t figure it out. He’s missing something... something... important.

He hasn't told anyone else yet. Sooner or later, he'll have to. Chris first? Nat? Drive to an empty lot on the old factory district and scream to the fucking sky?

He hasn't decided yet.

He’d rather drink until he’s in a better mood, first.

"Well, well, well well well I trained Mixology, what do we have?" Chris asks, glancing back and forth between Jake taking a bite of his hamburger and Antoni leaning with his back against the counter, watching them with a slight smile in his slightly narrow face.

"You trained in-" Jake stops, his mouth is full, he needs a second. He chews and swallows, leaning on his elbow on the table. "You were trained to make drinks?"

Chris nods, green eyes locked on his, before he gives a little grin and bounces on the balls of his feet. "I, I liked those classes."

Jake and Antoni briefly meet eyes. Antoni shrugs. “Don’t look at me. I only took cooking classes and learned cleaning.”

“Well, maybe next you could make us something fancy you know how to do,” Jake says - the pride in Chris’s eyes, this is something he can do for them, is unmistakable and as uneasy as it makes him, part of him really wants to let Chris show off for once. “D’you know anything with vodka? Antoni keeps some in the freezer he thinks I don’t know about-”

“Don’t you dare,” Antoni says with a one-sided grin, pointing a finger at Jake. His barcode is visible in his T-shirt and jeans, in this one place where his arms can be bare without danger. Normally they’d have had it removed by now, but Antoni keeps refusing, not giving any reason. “I spent my money on good vodka, you don’t drink good vodka with anything but itself, Jasha.”

“Okay, okay. You’re no fun.” Jake pouts, a little, and Chris grins so brightly at the unfamiliar, rare expression of humor that Jake worries his face has to hurt. “I’d share my liquor with you, you know.”

“I don’t want it,” Antoni says primly, even sticking his nose in the air, and Jake laughs, shaking his head a little, picking up a fry and tossing it Chris’s direction. Chris catches it in midair and stuffs it in his mouth like it might disappear if he doesn't. “I don’t want your Jack Daniels swill, thank you very much.”

“My apologies, not all of us have your refined tastes.” 

“Apology accepted.”

Jake throws a fry at Antoni this time, and he only ducks to the side, the fry landing harmlessly in the sink. 

“You have terrible aim, Jasha.”

“You ducked! I’d’ve hit you right in you forehead if y’didn’t!” Oh, he’s starting to slur his words, pick back up the accent he’d had growing up, before he and his mom moved out here. Probably a sign he should stop drinking anyway - Chris made his Jack and Cokes stronger than he usually drinks them and being 6′3″ and made of muscle after working out since he was a teenager seems like it made him look like he can hold his liquor, but his liver never got that memo.

“Hey, Ant.” Jake clears his throat. “Antoni.”

“Yes?” Antoni grabs the bottle of vodka from the freezer, fogged and cloudy with frost, and slides into a chair, glancing over at Chris and patting the seat next to him, between Antoni and Jake. Chris grins and plops down into it so hard the chair creaks a little at the thump of his weight. He sits with his hands between his legs, palms resting on the wood of the chair, leaning slightly forward. It’s similar to and the opposite of his posture in the Contract Signing video, his eyes wide and bright, smiling slightly instead of crying, bouncing his feet off the ground in a constant blur of motion that allows the rest of him to be, largely, still. 

“What do I call you?”

“What?” Antoni blinks, confused, popping the corked top off the vodka bottle and taking a swig straight from it, not even bothering with a glass. He’s a little less refined with every week that passes, a little more casual in the way he holds himself, the way he sits, in the way an odd lilt has begun to seep into his syllables, harsher R’s but drawn-out, softer everything else. Jake wonders if he’s witnessing some kind of grand experiment, some days, in what it means to recover yourself and learn that you are something else entirely, in a way you could never have anticipated, than what you were made to be.

“What do I call you? Y’call Chris, ah, Chrisha-” Jake trips over the diminutive, his tongue struggling against the unfamiliar phrasing, and Antoni grins, taking another drink. Chris’s fingers skip up to the table, begin to sneak their way to the last bits of Jake’s second Jack and Coke. Jake catches him at it and puts on a stern face, shaking his head, picking the glass up and finishing the rest, watered down by melted ice to nearly nothing, by himself. He sets the glass down, the remaining ice clinking against itself. “No, man, you’re not 21 and I’m the closest thing to a responsible adult in this house right now.”

Chris drops his hand back between his legs again, but his smile doesn’t falter. If anything, it grows wider. “Oh, oh, okay, Jake. Maybe next, next time?”

“Turn 21,” Jake says, pretending for the moment that he himself wasn’t sneaking cheap beer behind the bleachers with the other guys back in high school. 

Chris is just testing, like always, but in different ways. Always testing to see if they’ll be like Sir in this way or that, learning about himself while he does it. Jake hasn’t let him down yet - and he has to hope he only ever lets Chris down in ways they can recover from. 

“... and you call me Jasha,” He continues speaking to Antoni. “So what do I call you?” 

“Hm.” Antoni thinks. “Ansha? I don’t know. I think...” His eyes go slightly distant, with the furrow of his thick eyebrows that suggests the pain that always comes with trying to consciously remember what was taken from him. “I think someone called me that once... Are we so close, you think?”

Jake shrugs. “I think so. Do you not?”

“I think we are, yes.” Antoni shrugs right back at him, then reaches out and pours a bit of the vodka over the remaining ice in Jake’s empty glass. “Jasha, what do I do if I don’t want to move out of the house?”

Jake blinks at him, taken aback. “What?”

“I don’t want to leave here. I like you, and I like our Chris, I would not want to leave him.” 

Chris bites down on his lower lip - not the practiced little nibble of teeth against sensitive skin he learned to weaponize, but a genuine attempt to hold back the surprised ecstatic smile trying to take him over. “You, you, you you-you-you-you-”

“I wouldn’t,” Antoni says softly. He reaches out to squeeze Chris’s shoulder, once, Chris leaning heavily into the touch. “I would not leave you willingly, Chrisha.”

Jake glances at Chris, bouncing in his seat, his head cocking back and forth in a kind of rhythm, feet tapping on the ground. Eternal whirlwind movement, he’d doing cartwheels on the lawn if they were outside. He won’t sit for long, he’ll be doing handstands in the living room or twisting himself in pretzels, getting out the energy that races through his muscles in any way he can. 

“I wouldn’t, either,” Jake says, thinking. He picks up the vodka Antoni poured for him and takes a sip - the vodka is weirdly smooth, runs down his throat with only the barest hint of fire. “Oh, this shit’s dangerous, isn’t it?”

“It is if you are you,” Antoni says, giving him a wicked little smile. “And not me.”

“Ha. Jackass.” Jake grins, to take the sting out, and catches the moment of worry fading from Chris’s face to be replaced with the smile he’s been wearing all along. “There's something I’ve thought about...”

“What?” Chris asks, cheerfully.

Jake looks at him, considering. Then he just shrugs on more time. “Nothin’. I’ll tell you later when I can talk about it without rambling all over the place. I’m too drunk for good conversation right now.”

“I, I, I liked this, this conversation,” Chris says, a little shyly. Jake bumps his foot against Chris’s under the table, and watches Chris toss his head with a smile, hair over his eyes falling to the side. 

“Yeah,” Jake says, taking another drink of the vodka, watching Antoni drink straight from the bottle and Chris sip the glass of Sprite and grenadine. Chris has only had a few sips, but the more he drinks, the bouncier he gets. “Yeah, I’m likin’ it, too. Like family dinner, except y’guys already ate and everyone but Chris is drinking.”

He holds up his glass, and Antoni clinks his entire bottle of vodka against it, and Chris clinks his Shirley Temple, and the three of them laugh. 

“To family dinner,” Antoni says cheerfully. “May it always include vodka.” 

Jake blinks, hearing the soft dip of the v into a different sound, almost a w. Vwahd-ka.

“To family dinner,” Jake says brightly, tossing another fry to Chris.

“To, to, to, to to to family,” Chris says, soft and nervous, as if he expects them to correct him, demand he take it back.

“That one is better,” Antoni says, pitching his voice low, too. “To family, Chrisha.”

Jake has an idea, but it might not be as safe for Chris as their situation is now.

He’s got one more year of school, and then he’ll have the education he needs plus three years of shelter life under his belt, and maybe... maybe he can ask Nat to help him pull off the one big dream Jake’s allowing himself to have. Let her use that fucking blood money she keeps in a bank account growing in bits and pieces each year since she left WRU to do something that’ll piss those fucking human traffickers off royally.

Maybe... maybe he can take Chris with him, and Antoni, too.  

“To family,” Jake says, louder than the other two, holds up his glass, and downs the rest of the vodka in one long drink. 

[whichstoodonrockyshores]

Chapter Seven

(ha gay)

“I’m sorry for being so late! I’m home, Danny!” Lucy cried. He turned his head a little and smiled at her.

“No, it’s okay. I was late too, I had to visit… someone before I came home.” Danny explained, not wanting to say who he visited. Lucy looked relieved when he said that. 

“Me too,” Lucy said, sounding like she was about to pass out. Like she’d been running. She sat down on the couch and sighed. “I’m sorry that there’s no supper, I could make something right now if you want?”

“Nah, I can make it. Vinnie’s already asleep, but chances are he’ll wake up in an hour complainin’ about how hungry he is.” Danny said, with a small laugh.

“You’re gonna make supper?” Lucy asked, sounding very confused. She’d never seen a man offer to make supper before. Well, this was probably for the best, she was an awful cook anyways. 

“Unless you really want to. I wouldn’t take it away from you if you wanted to.” Danny explained. Lucy nodded, turning around to walk towards the bedroom

“I’d love for you to make supper. I’m going to write a letter to my father now, call me when you’re finished.” Lucy explained. “Is this room the bedroom?” She asked.

“Yeah, see you later then,” Danny said, getting up and heading towards the kitchen. He started making a beef and vegetable stew, which was by far his favorite thing to make. He was waiting for some water to boil when he heard someone crying. He almost thought it was Lucy, but it sounded more like a child. It didn’t sound like Vinnie either. He checked outside, looking out of his back door.

He didn’t see anything, which was pretty confusing. He looked around outside but still didn’t see anything. Huh. He suddenly remembered the cooking and ran back to the kitchen. The crying was still there, but it sounded more like it was coming from inside now. The water was boiling though, so he put in a few of the ingredients. He looked around the kitchen for something or someone, but he couldn’t seem to find anyone.

He looked in a cupboard, around where the crying was the loudest. That’s when he found a young child, curled up in a ball. The child looked familiar to him. Wait was that…

“Jack?” He asked, looking the child in the eyes.

“What..?” He sobbed back.

“Are you going to come out of there? How did you even sneak in?” Danny asked, holding a hand out. Jack was one of his very young cousins, actually his youngest cousin. His Uncle James had remarried to a very young woman after his first wife died. They had Jack a few months later. Everyone was convinced that he had been conceived out of wedlock.

“The door was unlocked…” he muttered, crawling out of the cupboard.

“Okay, okay, sit on the couch. I have to make supper.” Danny explained, and Jack agreed and sat over on the couch, his lip quivering. Danny felt bad, but he didn’t want to burn supper for everyone else. supper was finished eventually, and he sat next to his cousin. “What’s wrong, kid?” He asked, finally.

“...Pa ain’t been feedin’ me. So I was hopin’ I could come here and get somethin’ to eat.” He explained.

“What?! You’re thirteen, how dare he not feed you-“ Danny interrupted, but Jack just continued to talk.

“He said I was pansy… I didn’t know what to do… so I came to you."

“What do you think he meant by pansy?”

“...that I was weak, I guess. Can I just have some of your supper? It looks real good… and I’m hungry, you know...” Jack said, smiling at Danny. He sighed and nodded.

“Yeah. You can have some supper. You’re always welcome here, just so you know, but I’m gonna get Vinnie.” He got up and knocked on Vinnie’s door, waking him up. He came running out a few seconds later, looking prepared for supper. Danny looked down at him for a second, before crouching down to his level.

“We have a guest over, son. Be on your best behavior, I’m gonna go get Lucy now.” He explained, getting up after explaining it.

“Okay Uncle.” He said, running off to the table. Danny gently knocked on the bedroom door, trying to get Lucy’s attention. She came out after a few minutes, looking a little sad. She sighed and went to the dinner table. Danny followed behind her, but she looked confused when she saw Jack. She didn’t say anything though and just sat down.

“So this is my cousin, Jack. His father ain’t bein’ too kind to him currently, so we’re gonna feed him and let him stay over whenever he needs to.” He explained. Lucy seemed to understand now, and Vinnie was already getting antsy, just wanting to eat. “That’s all, y’all can eat now.” He said, and everyone started eating except Jack.

“Ain’t we supposed to say a prayer?” Jack asked, looking very confused and concerned.

“Well… I guess we don’t really do that, Jack.” Lucy explained. “My family has never done that, at least. I guess I didn’t think about it.”

“Oh. Well, I’m sorry, I’m just gonna get to eatin’-“ he said, basically shoving it into his mouth afterward. Lucy & Danny started to eat after that, and Lucy smiled suddenly, perking her head up to look at Danny.

“Danny, this is delicious! I wish I could cook like this- in fact, you can cook from now on.” She exclaimed, very happy that she wouldn’t have to be cooking every day now. Danny smiled back at her and nodded.

“Well, thank you! I guess I will, then.”

“I didn’t know men could cook like this, Danny,” Jack said, but he quickly went back to shoveling the stew into his mouth, and his bowl was beginning to run low. He stopped when he realized this. “Can I have seconds? Maybe? Sorry for eatin’ this much, I’m really hungry…” Jack explained.

“It’s okay. Danny has made plenty.” Lucy explained, smiling at Jack. He smiled back and got some more stew for himself. Vinnie seemed to be out too but didn’t get any more. He seemed to be sitting there, waiting for the rest of them to be done.

“So what did you do today, Vinnie?” Lucy asked. Vinnie perked up and smiled.

“Well, Great Uncle Hamish took me huntin’ for crawfish! That was fun! I was pretty tired from the weddin’, but it was still fun.” Vinnie explained, a gigantic smile on his little face. Lucy, however, looked confused.

“Who?” She asked.

“Oh. Um...Uncle Danny. Sorry, I misspoke.” He explained, suddenly looking rather shy.

“...okay, well, I’m glad you had fun in the swamps.” She said, continuing to smile at him. She didn’t look confused anymore. Danny seemed super zoned out, staring out the window and barely eating his food. He looked like he was on the verge of tears, barely keeping himself together.

“Danny, are you okay?” Jack asked, noticing his facial expression and actions. Danny seemed to jolt upright and nodded. He quickly went back to eating, not acknowledging what had happened. He still looked sad, however. The family stayed quiet for a while after that. Everyone just ate, and Jack finished his seconds and went for thirds, slurping them up at the same speed he had when he first got the food. Everyone else was done by now, just waiting for him to be done.

“Thank you, Dan. It was nice of ya, but I’m gonna go back home. My Pa probably ain’t gonna be happy about this…” he said, with a sigh. Danny stood up from his chair and sighed.

“I’m takin’ you home.” Danny firmly stated. He looked around and no one objected, while Lucy began to clean up the table. Danny and Jack began on their way to Uncle James’ house. Jack looked terrified, but Danny was rather calm. He began to gently pat the boy on his back.

“It’s okay. I’ll keep you as safe as I can, I promise,” he explained, keeping his voice calm. He didn’t want to scare Jack off, after all.

“Thank you…” he said, shakily sighing and looking up for a moment. They soon made it to James’ house, and Danny knocked on the door. There was a short waiting period before Molly, Jack’s mom, opened the door. 

“Hello ma’am, this is your boy right?” Danny asked, and Molly looked over at Jack and nodded. She suddenly jumped on him and pulled him into a hug. Jack sunk into his mother's arms, and Danny went inside to confront his Uncle. Because despite seeming very calm on the outside, he was angry. Very angry.

He quickly found James in his office. Danny walked in without knocking and saw James writing something at his desk. He suddenly turned around when the door opened, not even looking up.

“Molly, if you bother me one more time I’m goin’ to-” he started, before Danny walked over and punched the old man in the face so hard his chair spun.

“This ain’t Molly,” Danny said coldly. “You better stop takin’ your damn family for granted. If I see a single mark on the boy or your poor, poor wife I’m gonna knock you harder, you hear me?!” he yelled, before throwing James out of his chair.

“Danny? What’re you talkin’ about?” he questioned.

“Oh be quiet. Feed the boy or I will.” Danny said, before walking out of the office. He saw Jack and Molly softly talking in the foyer, and Danny put a hand on Molly’s shoulder, making her flinch quite a bit.

“You can always come over to my place if you need. Both of you,” he explained, looking back and forth at the two of them. Molly nodded.

“Thank you,” she whispered to Danny before he left the house. He was back at home soon after, but he couldn’t seem to think about much except for that. Even with Lucy laying next to him.

His Uncle James wasn’t who Danny thought he was. Could that be true for anyone else?

[cadcnce-archived]

          BIG ASS CHARACTER SHEET FOR                    FANTASY VERSE WYLAN

I found an image while going through my files for cursed pics to send @spiritmaiden​, they had the audacity to take it and fill it out for the fantasy verse of their sky-zel, so I of course have to match the effort for Wylan because I’m not about to be shown up. It’s hella involved, nobody’s getting tagged but damn if you want an exercise in hitting your character then give it a shot. Most is under the cut because of length.

Character’s Name: Zachary Reis (Born) Wylan Rechtur (Used) Character’s nicknames: Ze (by his sister) Wy (by his friends and preferred) Zephyr (mercenary name, also what you’d see on any wanted posters) Gender: Male Righty or Lefty: Righty Age: 25-26  Height: 6′-0″  Weight: ~180 lbs Eye Color: Emerald green, bright and wide filled with a mix of confidence and playfulness. Hair color: Dark brown, messy and falling to his ears. Unkempt may be a good descriptor, but he generally keeps it down flatter at the least.  Distinguishing marks: His body is pocked with marks and scars from fights and other disagreements, but the ones most easily discerned are knife scars on his hands, and a short arc above his left brow. Describe physical traits in one passage: A good way to view him is concealed strength and agility. He’s toned and in good shape but doesn’t often dress or carry himself in ways that would flaunt this. His posture and pose are loose, and his expressions can be lazy and playful. So the moment he flips that switch and uses the full brunt of his power? It’s a surprise. He’s also a bit on the lanky side, his body size doesn’t fully compliment the size of his limbs. 

FAMILY/ RELIGION

Parents: Mother and father were disappeared/dead when he was just a bit over 6 years old and his sister was an infant. They were involved with the church but not royalty themselves. Wylan never spent much time figuring out what. They had a life left for him and his sister that he threw away as well. His father was a gentle soul while his mother was razor sharp and firm. Siblings: Younger sister, Katelynn Reis, but goes by Lyn with her friends. Wylan calls her Kat. She’s ~5 years younger than he, and remains with the church training and working as a healer. Whereas Wylan ran away from being a Paladin, she stayed strong to become a Cleric.  Significant Other: Verse dependent, Wylan typically is averse to romance and prefers casual encounters.  Children: None, nor is he open to them initially in his canon.  Other relatives: None remain living that he is aware of. He and his sister were raised by his grandmother on his father’s side, but she passed away shortly after he left the knight’s academy, when Wylan was roughly 16-17.  Pets: None. But he does enjoy talking to cats. Friends: Wylan is the type who ‘knows a guy’, he’s close with many tavernkeeps and makes nice with the adventurer’s guilds and their members as well. His work as an informant necessitates things like this. Wylan is also the type to consider most anyone he encounters and converses with a friend, whether they like it or not. His best friend though would easily be a wandering adherent by the name of Emke. I don’t care what the thread is about in some way she’s involved in his life. They’re platonic soulmates. Enemies: As a mercenary and hunter, some others in his craft would consider Wylan to be their rival, and in many cases he would view them just the same. It’s hard to say he has any enemies outside of pointedly evil factions however! Relationships (other): His relationship with his sister is an odd one. They’re still in touch via letters and the occasional visit, and he does what he can to support her with his money, but they’re not close like conventional siblings. There’s a strange codependence between them. Wylan depends on Lyn as a ‘rock’, and she depends on him as the ‘sea’. Ethnicity: Human! His origins are mostly a mix of Germanic/Portuguese if you wanted a comparison to Earth races/ethnicities. Religion: He recognizes the existence of higher powers but his relationship with them isn’t the best. As if being rebellious to his parents wasn’t bad enough he has to be tsundere towards The Light. This is noted when he uses holy magic such as wards and smiting spells and getting rebound into his own body upon use. Superstitions: He’s incredibly wary around the undead and spirits. So catch him spreading salt when he has to camp somewhere less than lively. Also give him a moment to sharpen his silver weaponry...  Diction, Accent, ETC.: His dialect is pretty clean, though this depends on who he’s speaking to, being the travelling sort he is he’s capable of lightly ‘faking’ various accents, or just being lazy with his own manner of speech. Traces back to proper speaking that was drilled into him as a child and then his own rebelliousness. SCHOOL/ WORK / HOME Education (Highest): He was well learned with the academy work that he actually accomplished. While he never finished and never put his all into his studies, it was clear to his teachers that he had a gift for learning but a problem with conviction.  Degrees: None! But just so I still have something here, one of his informal titles is ‘The Gale’s Fang’. Vocation/Occupation: Jack of several trades, wrapped up best as a mercenary informant, and a monster hunter. He’s good at tracking both people and monsters and taking them down- lethally or not so much. Employment History: Wylan was fully involved with the knight’s academy from the age of 6 to 16, so for those 10 years he had his hands full dealing with that and trying to figure out himself (poorly). Upon leaving the academy after the accident, he took up arms and was given tutelage by the thieves’ guild which taught him how to use his senses and move quietly through the shadows. Wylan didn’t make a good pickpocket, but he was good at reading other people and exceptional at duels. It wasn’t long before he took the advice of the guildmaster and made better uses of his talents. Not necessarily for good, but for more profit. By the age of 22 he was an accomplished and well connected informant, bartering information as well as putting his swordwork to use headhunting and slaying monsters that made issue outside the cities in which he frequented. This continues to current/canon start of interactions. Salary: He’s affluent enough not to worry too much about his state of living, but he can be prone to splurge spending that puts him in a bind for a few weeks at a time, at least until the next job puts money back on the table. Status and money: Continuing off the above, he’s decent enough with his funds (after sending money back to help out his sister) but wouldn’t be well off enough to be considered rich compared to his modern verse. Fortunately he has enough renown that jobs aren’t too hard to come by for him. And many barkeeps and friends are willing to open a tab for him. So he’s not too desperate.  Own or Rent: Wylan typically rents inn rooms when he stays in the cities, and camps when he’s out in the woods. Technically he also owns if you count helping his sister keep her own place running (thought it’s really about 30-70, with his sister funding most of it)  Living Space: Wylan never stays long at the room. It’s a place to go back to and sleep. Personal belongings? Very few. Most things he owns that he wouldn’t want to lose stay back with his sister kept in a basement or separate room that he uses on the rare times he’s back in the capital/holy city from which he originally hailed. As you can imagine, this isn’t very often.  Work Space: N/A! He doesn’t have one! Given his work is almost entirely in the field. Main Mode of Transportation: CATCH A RIIIIIDE. Though he’s apt to have a horse around for transport if he isn’t going too far. Long voyages for when he changes locales would probably be hitching a ride with a caravan. He also doesn’t mind voyages on foot too much. PSYCHOLOGY Fears: Externally he has an aversion to ghosts and spirits. The concept of the dead coming back to haunt you isn’t something he much cares for. Having access to light magic should mostly assuage this, and yet it can give him goosebumps anyhow. Ironically he has a fear of large mammals in his modern verse but that shit doesn’t apply here given he’s a monster hunter! Internally he fears being forgotten, not making a name for himself, and dying before he can truly feel alive.  Secrets: His birth name, Zachary Reis, isn’t something he will bring up with anyone. It’s not necessarily a ‘dead name’ for him, but it’s one he threw away the same time he decided he was going to toss away his ‘fate’ as a paladin. Taking the name of Wylan was another way he took his life for himself in his mind. Despite this being a path of self destruction. His sister is also something he doesn’t often bring up unless he very much trusts that person.  IQ: Surprisingly high. He picks up a lot of information doing the work he does, but you wouldn’t be blamed for not believing this. Eating Habits: They could be a lot better. He eats enough to get by, but his diet isn’t as varied as it could be. Wylan hunts small game when he can, but he isn’t an exciting cook so ALAS. This boy prefers hitting up taverns and getting basic meals like stews, jerky, sandwiches, etc etc. Sleeping Habits: Wylan is a very light sleeper. Typically if you so much as step into the room he’s sleeping in he’ll snap into awareness. It takes a loooong day of exertion to keep him sleeping deep otherwise. Frustrating is how he ‘fakes’ being asleep. So someone could come in and start rummaging and he would still breathe and move as if he were still sleeping. Up until he sits up and stares or cracks a joke. Dare you to kiss him when you think he’s asleep.   Book Preferences: History tomes every now and then. Wylan doesn’t read much fiction and prefers any time he spends reading to be somewhat productive! Make up for other education he missed as part a result of running on the academy. He also reads up on magic and sorcery to work on the wind affinity he also has.  Music Preferences: Wylan doesn’t play any instruments but he DOES love love love to dance and sing. He’s an entertainer at heart and loves to rally people however he may. Suffice to say he’s amusing to go drinking with. And not just because he starts bar fights to amuse himself. Groups or Alone: He’s primarily a lone fighter. Some hunts he will of course work with a team of other hunters, he’s not stupid enough to take on the larger beasts by himself, but there’s a preference for doing things on his own terms. He’s self aware enough to know that his ways and methods can be grating, but ah... how all of that clashes with his desire to show off and have an audience. Being Wylan is suffering. Leader or Follower: He’s both, but prefers to be a follower if he can help it. Let other people make the plans then nudge them this way and that to better fit your own methods. He’s a prankster and a good compliment to most parties after all, so you’d be wise to utilize him! Lest he utilize himself... but that said, he’s an anti-hero, so there’s possibility in there for him to be a leader as well and take charge. It just isn’t his default nature and he’d rather not. Planned Out or Spontaneous: Wylan is chaos incarnate. Most everything he does outside of necessity/work is spontaneous. All his mischief and plans are cobbled together and thrown out there. Sometimes he’ll do a bunch of things at once, like throwing a bundle of darts at the wall to see which ones stick. And oh my fucking god don’t get me started on being romantic he can’t plan for shit in that department. Journal Entries (Do they keep one?) Nope. Not a daily journal at least. He’ll keep notebooks and the like for jotting down intel and what have you for jobs he takes up. But most of the time he’ll just have little notes in his pocket, and not really chronicle his life. He may also make ‘fake’ entries to tease people or trick them. See what he did to Zelda the one time. Be careful what you believe... Hobbies, Recreation: Tricks!! Sleight of hand!! Cards and dice!! Part of growing up and learning with a thieves’ guild is getting involved in lots of things that make use of your hands and dexterity. He likes playing random games with folks and oh! People watching. Stalking. Not the cutest thing but Wylan makes a hobby out of ‘testing himself’ and exercising his talents. His hobby is unfortunately annoying people, to summarize. How Do They Relax: His hobbies help him to relax! Also, if you can believe it, sitting back in a group conversation and watching the conversation happen and move forward. Learning about other people is something he likes doing, which is hypocritical since he can make himself so difficult to learn by contrast. BUT THE REAL THING HE DOES.. is practice sword fighting. Slow rhythmic swings of his blade, almost like a dance. He focuses his thoughts and calms his soul when he practices. It’s like a mix of swordfighting, dancing, and yoga. Controlling himself. Feeling himself. It’s multiple things.    What Excites Them?: PEOPLE. Things! Happenings! The unknown and pushing himself to new limits. Honestly one of Wy’s biggest drives is doing something or becoming something that will make him ‘Feel Alive’. Because for all of his antics and frivolity he’s very much fighting an encroaching darkness in his soul. So he’ll search out bizarre things to get involved in. It’s one of the reasons he’s bugging Zelda, because her involvement in witchcraft and his own suspicions have him interested huehue. Pet Peeves: Being ignored. Like perfectly disregarding his existence and whatever he’s getting up to. If you’re not reacting to him being him then that means he’s not being effective and he’s losing. It’s his only real weakness...  Prejudices: None. He’s not the most respectful person so most everyone, royalty or important or otherwise gets subjected to similar treatment. If anything, the more important you are the more likely you are to get annoyed! Attitudes: He’s usually with a front, a mask if you will. His general attitude is curious and nosy, but that’s fronted with a playfulness and proclivity for being annoying. Don’t be fooled, he’s usually something more pensive and calculating underneath that exterior. Wylan actually quiets a fair bit once that mask is taken away, his mood swings down and his tone is a touch deeper. Stressors: Things going awry and his friends being put in danger. He absolutely does not do well with people he cares about being hurt. One of the worst things that can happen to him is his sister dying for example, and has lead to one of his most self destructive plots I’ve written, in this verse especially. Lovers? Don’t hurt them. Don’t endanger them. The idea of rivals or enemies going after people he cares about.. hoo. MAN. None of that please. He can be SO damn possessive. In relationships he’s very self conscious as well of fulfilling their needs. So if his partner remarks, regardless of how offhandedly, they’d like more of something he will TRY TO MAKE THAT HAPPEN.  Obsessions: Being an absolute pain in the ass. And in cases where someone has wronged him or someone close to him? Tracking them down and getting closure/revenge. That shit takes him to the brink of killing himself. Addictions: None to the point of being problematic, but he does love eating pickles.  Ambitions: To make a name for himself, to be renowned and respected. To feel alive and accomplished as a person. He’d also like to take down a dragon someday. Get some armor from its scales and a sword out of that shit. As Seen by Others: Capable and dangerous, but impossible to work with for long periods. Keep a tight lip around him lest he use that information against you and learn things you’d rather keep secret. A lecherous womanizer. As Seen by Self: A body of broken glass, encased in a shell, covered in masks. Who are you? What are you? Where are you even going? You’re lost. You’re aimless. You’re swimming and swimming and eventually you’re going to be tired, aren’t you? ASTROLOGY/PHISIOLOGY Birth Date: October 10. Time of Birth: Evening. Western Astrological Sign: Libra Traits Associated with Western Sign: Social, Clever, Unreliable, Diplomatic Traits Associated with Chinese Zodiac: N/A, seeing as I don’t age Wylan with the years this doesn’t really apply. Handwriting: Clean when he needs it to be, but otherwise a quick script with lots of pen strikes. He’s capable with drawing diagrams and the like as well! This boy can throw out monster diagrams with weak points and other ecological notes oh yes yes. Sexual History: Wylan was already exploring that sort of thing before he left the academy, so yes... as early as 16 he’d already lost the v-card. He doesn’t really do relationships and enjoys casual encounters. Many a maiden at the bar or elsewhere has taken him for a spin. Typically partners aren’t reoccurring in fantasy verse, however. He’s... well, very good in the performance category.   General Health: A+ healthy aside from the sleep and subpar diet bits. Strong and good stamina. Medical History: He’s nearly died one times too many. Been stabbed, cut, poisoned, bitten, but hey he’s still alive! And that’s what he’d argue matters with this business. Allergies: SHELLFISH. Chronic Illnesses: None to speak of. Handicaps: He’s somewhat of a type B tsundere. It’s awful.  OBJECTS Purse / Bag: He’s got a coin purse that he’ll carry spare gold around in for spending on what have you. Supposedly food but he’s weak to splurge purchases. Most everything else he keeps on him in his pockets and his belt. Wallet: Uhhh see above, coin purse!!! He’s got enough for the week or so!! Don’t try and pickpocket him because he will catch you and you will feel stupid. Fridge: He doesn’t keep food around. He more or less has to scavenge for everything he eats either through buying or hunting. That’s kind of the life for the vagrant he is, isn’t it? Medicine Cabinet: N/A, but he does keep bandages and salves at his room.  Glove Compartment: N/A!! Junk Drawer: NNNNNN/AAAAAAA Kitchen Cabinets: Wylan get a house so I can fill this out challenge. Bedroom Hiding Place: Behind a wall panel or somesuch if he can manage. Otherwise in the floor or outside the window. Closets: His wardrobe typically includes tunics, coats, leather armor and harnesses for his weaponry! He’s got a couple swords in fantasy verse, and he’s got throwing knives and a grappling hook!!  Backback: Yeah uh see above, what a question. Locker: None Desk: WYLAN KEEP ITEMS AROUND CHALLEEEEENGE.  Clothes pocket: Daggers, notes, maybe a writing implement and paper so he can jot things down. He’s also got little knick knacks like a gem or a monster tooth to show off. Isn’t it cool??? Also lint.

OTHER Halloween Costumes: Werewolf!!! Get him in either just a lazy one with gloves and ears or deck him out in the whole garb. Love that idea on him. In one verse Big Bad Wolf is his nickname, and in another he flat out IS a werewolf! So yeAH. Tricks: He’s very skilled at sleight of hand!! Card flourishes and dice rolls. Cup games. Illusions and dexterity... he’s a slippery one! He’s also likely to catch you in words, using things you say against you. He gets really meta and oh how annoying that can get... Talents: SWORDPLAY- He learned from a very early age at an esteemed academy where only the best knights get trained. He mixes that style with a more ‘street’ type that he picked up with the thieves’ guild and even further as a monster hunter and mercenary. Suffice to say that all mixes together into multiple stances he can switch between depending on what he’s up against. Strong sweeping strikes, vicious stabbing and leaping, poised dueling and parrying... he’s a TOUGH fight. MAGIC: Wylan is at odds with his use of holy magic that utilizes the light to bless and heal. Until he comes to terms with himself and the power he wants to channel it’ll have ‘blowbacks’ on himself. Fingers will burn, head will ache, and his stomach will flip. But it’s still undeniably effective for where it is! Aside from that he knows some wind magic to supplement himself. He’s not known as ‘Zephyr’ for nothing after all! Gusting steps, slashing winds, REALLY BIG JUMPS!!! If you throw him he’s a fantastic projectile! And lets see- DANCING! He learned it first as part of his etiquette as a knight, but it’s something that’s evolved with him and oh does he enjoy festivals for that reason. Ballroom styles are what he’s most familiar with. Dance with him. Please dance with him. Politics: Indifferent! Doesn’t care for authority figures to begin with so in any case or kingdom with a monarchy he’s very buh about it. He’s very self-accomplished and his beliefs would push him towards meritocracy over anythign else if you ask me!  Flaws: Suspicious, possessive, and very persistent. This could be a strength too but for the most part can be seen as a detriment because of how it ends up being applied. Which is in self-destructive tendencies WOO. He’s also very lustful, and can be distracted by a fine woman and let himself be swayed by his desires over time. Have I mentioned he isn’t the most reliable? He’s apt to lie to people and give intentionally wrong impressions just to make it easier for him to slip away. You gotta go up a few levels to unlock that... So yeah, sins are WRATH, LUST, and ENVY. Strengths: NONE. Okay if you earn a solid place as his friend there is almost NO limit to what he’ll do to protect you. Wylan has a ridiculous amount of determination and mental fortitude and he can and will strike down a GOD to keep those things that are precious to him. He’s also an amusing character to have around, if you are feeling bummed he is almost guaranteed to find a way to cheer you up and support you if only so he can not feel as guilty teasing as he usually does HUE. He’s got a very up beat personality! Sure, a lot of it is a mask but he WANTS it to be real and that’s what really matters if you ask me. His reckless optimism can be endearing. There’s a lot of other surprising mental qualities such as how clever and quick witted he can be. Part of that mental fortitude lets him think and fight on his feet regardless of how much pressure he’s under. It takes a LOT to dampen his thought processes. Drugs/Alcohol: He drinks frequently, but he wouldn’t be counted as a drunkard. Wylan rarely drinks to excess, and prefers to do so among friends and good company. Passwords: Uh, do ritual prayers count? Magical spells? Heh. Email Address, Home Page, Blogs, etc.: Oh if only this were for modern verse... Time and place: Medieval fantasy! Magic and creatures! I also love throwing Monster Hunter vibes in for the big monsters he goes up against. Special Places: For him? Cliffs overlooking the ocean. Abandoned temples he can just chill at. For all he enjoys being around people now and then he really appreciates quiet isolation. Special Memories: Lots of memories with his sister before they more or less split ways. There’s one in particular where he was trying to teach her swordplay when she was just a little girl, and she about stubbed his toe when the wooden practice sword fell right on it. Her panicked attempts to try and heal him were something that really stuck with him.

[nosferatyou]

If I Can Be So Bold: Chapter 4 (Jack White x OC)

Summary: A time line of Lee’s life after a certain event. Chock full of hardships, odd music choices, and the FBI watchlist. Overall an incredibly important chapter.

Word Count: 4k

Warnings: Alcohol abuse, cursing, frank iero

NOTES: Fuck. Its been a while hasnt it? schools a bitch. anyways i thought this was the best way to move the story along. Besides the early days werent really important. well it was, but it was th lead up. Still I think this is pretty damn good. Took me for fuckin ever. I hope you enjoy! 

I think I could’ve saved myself from more heartbreak if I just stopped fucking the man that was slowly breaking me, sparing me from the years of emptiness I just floated through. We could’ve only been friends and ended it at that, but I fell in love with him.

 It took me a year to realize id made the biggest mistake of my life. He was my mistake. I saw all this like I did relish every moment we had together, like every time he kissed me, I felt my chest grow warm. I never had a bad moment with him. When we fucked it was just me and him, which is so incredibly cheesy, but when you’re that intoxicated by the touch of another, its all you can think about. Nothing else existed. Bad breakups, a growing rift in old friends, the unpaid bills sitting on your counter. The truth. It genuinely was witchcraft on his end. I think the songs he wrote when we were together were actually just love spells. 

This went on for a year. I waited for him and meg when they went to the meeting that landed them their first studio album. Hell, I even taught him slide and played on their track “Suzy Lee.” Looking back at that moment always makes me laugh, the irony of it all, how I shielded myself from any truths. I think I realized I loved him when I opened my apartment door to see him with freshly cut hair. The sides shaved, the red just as wild as always but dyed a firetruck red. To this day, its the worst haircut I’ve ever seen someone get, and that day I died with laughter. He was always so confident in his looks, but that day he was in a panic. I had to console him and try to convince him it wasn’t that bad. 

“Rosie, it looks like someone glued fake fur to the top of my head.” 

The both of us sat cross-legged across from each other on the bed, trying to assess the damage. He couldn’t stop fidgeting. Fixing any loose hairs, which was the entirety of his hair. I scooted forward and played with it, trying to find any feasible angles.

“Jacky, it’s not that bad, it looks quite handsome from this angle.” I pretended to style it. There was no fixing it, but I could boost his ego to last until it grew back. 

He grabbed the hand mirror sitting next to him and tried every angle. Worry had found its way into 

every part of his face. 

“Mmm well, I guess it’s not as bad as I thought,” He couldn’t stop touching it. “Thanks, Rosie.” He smiled at me the same way he always did, lips pulled tight, making his face scrunch up with those warm eyes. 

I still looked at him and saw the most handsome man, even with that ridiculous haircut.

It never took much to convince him of something or to do something for that matter. If you put any liquid in his hand he’d drink it, I think I watched him drink hand sanitizer on a dare made by Ben. I never convinced him to go on a date with me, though. We always spent our time alone together, holed up in my room. Though back then, I always considered our late-night solo show adventures a good filler. He never noticed how happy they made me. That should’ve been a red flag, but they always just look like flags in rose-colored glasses. I seemed to be an expert at collecting red flags. I convinced myself for years that my time with my ex back in Nashville was normal.

Harriet pulled my head out of ass, though, and brought me here. To more red flags. It’s funny how completely opposite the two of them are. Jack and John (John and John if you want to get technical). John, at first, took me everywhere. He knew everyone and could get in anywhere. He showed me off and always made it clear who he was with. Once he had me fully wrapped around his finger, and we were living together, it switched. I wasn’t allowed to go out, not without his permission. I couldn’t talk to anyone except my bandmates, that was limited too. He held my playing shows above my head. If I was “good,” I could play under his supervision. I mean, he managed our band, he always knew our every move. It’s easy to misconstrue love, confuse what possession is. I was his pet, his thing to show off and shove in a closet until he needed me again. It took years to notice that it wasn’t okay.

 The beginning is always just so intoxicating.  

Jack just had this air to him, that same confidence as john. He knew he was talented and certainly knew he was good looking. The difference is Jack is humble. He could barely take a complaint from me, and as he grew, he didn’t know how to handle the attention. He didn’t lavish in it as John had, as short-lived as his attention was. Jack and I hid away, our confessions of our true feelings hiding on lyric sheets feet away from the other. That made my want stronger, I never felt I could have him, but we were so close it almost felt like I could have him. Its that moment, though, when you stare at each other with such love and warmth, faces growing so close you could feel their body heat. Your so close you can almost taste it, and that’s the moment he leaves. We didn’t cuddle. We weren’t affectionate. It was his choice. He left after tender moments, he left before breakfast, and he left before we finished the last verse of our song. We never were anything, and we never got anywhere. Me being me, it never was a thought in my mind. My judgment was clouded every time he looked at me with those eyes that pulled me in the first time. 

While we grew closer, nothing ever changed, he came over, we fucked, and then wrote together. Sharing the same Camel pack every time. I never thought he shared my feelings for him. He never showed it. He was as open as he was closed. He only let you see what he wanted. That was until me, and the girls were all hanging around during a White Stripes practice. Which was quite common. We all watched each other play, testers for anything new that we cooked up. Meg was weirdly good at knowing what riffs people would like. She always was smarter than any of us would ever be. 

That day Jack introduced a new song. It wasn’t entirely new to me. I taught him the parts, I always played the solos. He never quite got it back then. I was overjoyed to finally hear it. None of the girls were too focused on them. They always got stupid high. Jack and Meg’s landlord didn’t quite care if they smoked, not that ever did, though. It was a slower song, and a lot of work was put into it. Knowing him, the lyrics always had just as much care. 

He refused to meet my eyes. He didn’t look at me once. His eyes quickly flipping between the wall behind me and his guitar. It was very, obviously intentional. He was a storyteller, he always did it so carefully in songs, hiding the message. This seemed incredibly open. Too obvious. He was hesitant. It wasn’t until the “Chorus” (it could barely be called a chorus) that he started to get a bit more confident. It was apparent he had a lot to say.

Miss Suzy lee

The one I'm speaking of

The question is

Is she the one I love?

Is she the one I love?

That made my ears perk up, my eyes locked onto the floor. Why was I afraid to look at him?

Maybe I was thinking about it too much. My hope tends to get the best of me. Still, this pit in my stomach was growing with each note he played. 

She sent me flowers

The name of an incredibly sappy song I showed him

With her tears burned inside

Again it was embarrassingly open

And you know what I'd do?

I would run and hide.

I would run and hide.

 Fuck. I think my imagination and reality were clashing. I might actually have finally snapped and lost it. 

And the paper

On it was my name

Okay, I definitely did hide the unofficial nickname I made for him. I didn't use it often. I called him “Tree” when I was annoyed with him.

With the question

Do you feel the same?

Do you feel the same?

I knew. I knew he didn’t notice my intentions that day, though he should’ve won an oscar for his acting. He pretended like he didn’t notice. 

I think I’m going to legitimately throw up on their ratty couch. I’m going to throw up, and it’s his fault. Jesus, I’m overreacting to a song that’s probably not about me. Fuck I need this to be over so I can breathe. Maybe look up from this thrifted carpet. 

Again his words make my head snap up. This time I met his eyes. 

To end this tale

The one I'm speaking of

I wish I had an answer, but I just don't know

Is this really love?

I left the room as fast as possible after he said love. I didn’t think I could stomach it. Fuck. Shit. Jesus Christ, retribution may be in my future. 

Everything changed after that. I couldn’t look at him, I avoided him, the hope would kill me. It was killing me. I’ve always gotten too excited over people, too attached, and whenever this moment came, I spiraled. I had longed for his love for so long, and the idea of getting it overwhelmed me, being around him overwhelmed me. I avoided him, said I was busy every time he asked to hang out. I didn’t even bother to hide that I was making excuses. It took him a week to stop taking my bullshit. Jack was incredibly blunt. He wasn’t one to beat around the bush. One night he knocked on our door, and someone other than me answered, and they sent him my way. I didn’t tell the girls my feelings. I was too afraid to say it out loud. I didn’t want to be in love again. I loathed it. I wanted to be the person who could be fuck buddies and be fine with it, but I fall too hard. Every fucking time. It’s inescapable. 

My dad always said I loved harder than others and should hold onto it, but it only hurt me. 

That night fucked everything up. He didn’t look at me. If he did, it wasn’t for long. For the first time, he looked cowardly. He stormed into my room. I could hear his very distinguishable and heavy footsteps coming up the stairs. My heart pounded into my throat with every footstep. He didn’t knock. He always knocked. His hair had grown out, it lost its curl, but it hung in his face just as it always did. He didn’t look smug. He didn’t have his bubble of confidence. He was meek. He was small. I remember his hands flying to his pockets. He did that when he was nervous. 

As I said before, he doesn’t beat around the bush. I wish he did that day. Spared my heartbreak for a few minutes. 

“Lee, I can’t love you.”

Those fucking words. They rang through my mind for years. Every time I saw him in the news, saw his face in magazines in passing at grocery stores. It felt like id been ripped in half, I was speechless, I physically could not form words. That feeling happened every once in a while when I reminded. Overtime I numbed to it. 

`He was married. Can you believe that? I was the mistress and with my best friend’s husband. The moment he pulled his hand out to scratch his face, I saw it. The wedding band that was never there before. I think he wore to mess with me, one last laugh. He knew this would be the end of us ever seeing each other, working together. 

He said he kept it off during shows for the brother-sister act, and just took it off before seeing me. Jack was never a coward, but it took him a year to tell him he was married. I hung out with them daily, I watched their dog when they toured, and I never noticed once. He was fucking married. The real kicker is that the girls knew too and didn’t tell me earlier. They let me live on with my sins. I felt so dirty. He just kept talking that day. He didn’t stop. Nervously rambled on, and he never did that. He was quiet. He opened his mouth to say something that’ll either make you cry laughing or make your heart swell. He was whip-smart and knew when to speak. I just let him go until he ran out of steam, tears quietly slipping down my cheeks. Still, stone-faced. The moment he stopped, I just silently showed him out and softly shut the door behind him. 

That night, I about committed arson, okay I didn’t, but I sure wanted to. At first, I cried. And cried,… and cried. It was a mess. Soon that turned to me having a small existential crisis and dumping everything on the cashier at the liquor store who definitely knew the others, and was incredibly uncomfortable. We went there a lot. As soon as the alcohol had been bought, it was gone. I spent the night binge drinking and wrecking everything in my room. I ripped up my journals for songs, I set a small fire to my sketches of him, and I very furiously tried to wash the smell of him out of my sheets. I also punched a hole in my wall, which I kept a secret until the girls moved out. The next day I switched to Marlboros, the smell of camels gives me that same gut punch. It was his brand. 

I said some not great things to the girls. I blamed them for my downfall for not telling me. I made them my excuse. I shortly left the band. We had tried to do a show, but I was so drunk I couldn’t remember most of the songs. I was also told I was lost my pants at some point.

 I moved out of the house and lost all ties to them. I cut all ties to jack. I couldn’t go home, though. I burned too many bridges with my family and friends, a bad habit I seemed to have. I still played shows.

The good thing to come out of my rage and fall into substance abuse was my music. I went through some phases. I was playing my standard stuff for a while, just with a bit more... Anger? Then some months later, in ‘99, the stripe’s first album came out. Of course, I fucking bought it. I kept all their records. I couldn’t let go for some reason. I listened to it on repeat. I was so outraged that it was good. I heard myself in their songs, saw my name in the liner notes, I heard myself in his lyrics. I was obsessed; it was great. For two years, I fought and scratched to get some kind of record deal. I got a two-album deal. I toured nonstop, played with some damn good musicians, though I never was happy.   

I lived a life of driving and playing. Most of the time, I had no fucking clue what state I was in. In New Jersey around 2003, I’d made some friends and played with them for a bit, fucking around in their basement. I lived there for a bit. I couldn’t stomach Detroit. I stayed consistently drunk from that night in ‘98 until 2004 when I received a friend’s call, showing me where I was headed.

 We talked through it, and both decided to get sober. We both were sick. They sparked something musical in me, though. I started to get heavier, I played punk, I put my aggression entirely into my music. I produced my own stuff then, scraping what I could together. I made that record and went back to Detroit. As painful as it was, I couldn’t go back to Nashville, so I was stuck here. I mostly just fucked around, still living pretty much like a hermit, making music in my basement. When the Elephant came out, I couldn’t avoid hearing The White Stripes. They were an international success. I still collected all their records and listened to them extensively. As time went on, my existence in his lyrics disappeared. As for him, it did for me, I’d given up. It was dumb to be upset over it all these years later, still, thinking of him hurt so much. I was restless. I was bored. I wanted to be back out on the road again. 

 While I was usually blackout drunk every day, I still loved it. Playing something new somewhere new every day. That’s when my friend frank from my New Jersey days called me up in ‘07 to join his new band. I think he was just as fed up and restless as I was. We played “hardcore punk.” though that's debatable. We were sick of shit and needed to yell about it. It was my last hurrah with my inner turmoil. We finished the album and got onto the FBI watchlist for a political song. 

I looked down at my phone to see I was getting a call from “Party Dad.” I knew what this is about. 

“Did- did they show up at your door too?” 

“Frank, you know they did.”

“Dude was fucking on the FBI’s list!” He was just as excited as I was.

“Hell fucking yeah, we are! You know we were still playing the song.”

“Oh, you know it. We will find a way around what they said. Plus fuck the government, that’s the whole point.”

“Two 30 something-year-olds on the FBI watchlist for a fucking song. This day could not get better.”

See here for the song

And toured. We toured for a while. Our last tour date was actually on my birthday in ‘08. In Nashville, no less. I didn’t tell my family, and surely didn’t expect them to be there. I never saw them, but I did see a familiar face. A significantly grown-up Ben Blackwell front and center. It caught me by surprise, that’s for sure, I slipped up a note or two upon seeing him. Though when we met up after, I was surprised how cool I stayed. I hadn’t seen anyone from my past in the years since. Ben has always been the sweet kid. I could never be mad. After that, we always stayed in touch, and whenever one of us was in Detroit or Nashville, we always met up. We recorded a couple tracks too. He’s always been a hell of a drummer. 

The band didn’t live long because of the others projects, but I always worked with Frankie when he asked. I even played drums for most of his last album. I got a call while trying to make a drumline for one of the tracks. It was my mom. I hadn’t spoken to her in 14 years. The last time we talked, we’d gotten into the screaming match to end all screaming matches over my focus and direction in life. She didn’t want me to move, she didn’t want me to pursue music, and she didn’t want me to leave John. She always worried I’d die an old maid. I hadn’t dated since Jack, so I can see her concern now. 

She dropped the bomb that my dad was sick. Of course, he was sick of all people. He was the most important man in my life. I hated being away from him. I could never bear to see him, and it turns out I’ve been wasting my time with him. All the tour stops, and I hadn’t seen him once. Guilt filled me. I felt the weight of it all. I felt the same tearing feeling, the same gut punch. I told frank everything, and him being him, he sent me off as quickly as possible to be with my family. 

My mom didn’t mention the fight. She just hugged me and sent me to my dad’s room. She couldn’t look at me, though.

 The moment I entered the house, I could hear Willie Nelson, a Red-headed stranger. It was always his favorite. My dad never showed his pain. He wanted to show us strength. It was heartbreaking to see him now in this state. I pushed it down. We talked for hours, and I told him everything, good and bad. He was always understanding. He knew my mind and reasoning better than I do. 

When Ben invited me to a Third Man event, I hesitated. We see each other frequently now that I’m back in town for who knows how long. He always invites me shows and record release parties. I always declined, even though my feelings have changed, I still can’t see jack. 

This time though, he said jack wouldn’t be there, something about his kids. Which took me by surprise, yet didn’t surprise me at all. So I agreed. To  my dislike. I love ben, but the thought of being in Jack’s business nauseates me.

 I watched the show from behind in the control room. Even though id heard it a million times, Ben did not hesitate to talk me through the live recording process. I was half paying attention, aimlessly looking at the crowd.

 Then I heard that laugh, the same from all those years ago. 

My heart leapt, panic-filled. I about pushed Ben over trying to get his attention. The footsteps. The heavy thuds came down the polished hallway. I nearly tore ben apart, trying to ask him if there was a bathroom.

 I was waiting for my breath. There were two entrances. Both blocked. I could either join the band on stage or run straight into the man I’m trying so hard to avoid. Ben looked so frazzled, trying to calm me down. I felt a shiver run through me, and I suddenly stopped. I was frozen, looking at the hallway. 

The bustle stopped, the footsteps stopped, all the people around him stopped in confusion. I locked eyes with him the moment he entered the room. No one dared move. Ben looked terrified next to, and the men around jack were whispering to themselves, trying to figure out what the hell was going on. Then he spoke, almost like he didn’t believe I was in front of him.

“Rosie?”

[jungle321jungle]

Level Two: Wait, You’re Not An NPC?

The world of Swords of Power and Conquest was one Virgil dove head first into, giving his soul and life to the game. He would play whenever he could, and had even decided he wanted to go into game design. At times he had even dreamt of how wonderful it would be to be inside that world for even a moment- until that world became his reality.

The familiar world he had come to love was now a foreign prison, one with no way out.

A Log Horizon AU. If you don’t know what that is, this is a Show Better Than SAO AU. If you still don’t know, the sides get trapped in a video game.

Ao3 - Masterlist

Taglist: @hells-missing-a-goat @angels-and-dreams @ollyollyoxinfree @gattonero17 @chumo-cookie @dreaming-always @anxiety-ismy-name @mrbubbajones @janustheliar

~~~~

Level Two: Wait, You’re Not An NPC?

Virgil wasn’t sure how long he had stood there. Stood there staring at his surroundings in shock and disbelief. But it was the familiar sound of a message which shocked him out of his stupor. Virgil’s eyes darted around him wondering how to open and answer- or if he was truly insane- when a voice sounded in his mind. 

“Tony?”

The voice was one which filled Virgil with relief to the point of tears welling in his eyes, but none of this could be real, right? Right? 

“Tony?” It asked again.

Virgil chose to indulge his own delusions as he wiped at his eyes. “Jack?”

“Oh thank God that worked!” The voice came from the other side of- of Virgil’s mind? “What the fuck is going on?”

“You’re asking me? This-” He stopped looking around at the forest and taking in the feeling of the sun streaming through the trees to let its warmth land on his skin, and the sound of animals running round. The sounds which were both so familiar and yet so foriegn. “This is all...” 

“I know. One moment I was sitting in my room, the next I’m standing in the Tavern. And I mean, not my character but- but me.”

The unsteadiness in that voice was something Virgil wasn’t sure he had ever heard before. But then again, neither was this situation. “I’m at the fork,” was all he said. 

“Then get your ass over here.”

With that the “call” ended and Virgil found himself moving. Leave it to Piggy to calm him down to a state of action with so few words. He wasn’t sure anyone else he had ever known was capable of such a thing. 

Virgil moved quickly. He ran down the path following the way he knew but keeping his eyes peeled. Monsters had always been in this area, but when the Tavern had been opened the monsters had become some sort of a rite of passage. If someone couldn’t get past them, then they didn’t deserve to be in the Tavern in the first place. That’s why he and Piggy together had placed the sign post and the teleport spot at the fork. It was a test. One Virgil hoped he could pass. 

He gave a hard swallow as he continued on listening carefully to the sounds in the trees, bushes and forest floor. But not daring to stop long enough to wait for something to find him. He was close. The Tavern would be in the coming clearing. 

Ralph was waiting for him in the coming clearing. 

It was when the breeze ceased that rustling became clear. Virgil’s breath shuddered but he didn’t stop and draw the sword he could feel strapped to his back. Not yet. As it grew closer and it’s footsteps sounded heavy Virgil reached back his fingers closing on his sword hilt- ready. He would wait as long as he could- because he couldn’t afford a fight. He couldn't afford the risks he had thought he had enjoyed. 

Virgil could feel the roar of the monster in his bones- in his core. Tyren. A level 28 monster resembling a mix of wolf and cat with claws which hold poison. They were generally weak on their own. But they had a habit of traveling in packs. This wasn’t a fight he could win- not anymore. All he could do was run. 

His heart drummed faster in his chest with every step he took. His eyes were burning with unshed tears but he couldn’t let them fall and obscure his view. Not when he could see the Tavern. Not when in a few moments he knew he’d be able to see the sign for the Serpent’s Den. Another roar sounded to his right. Followed by one to his left. And the growling from nearly all sides. 

They were going to trap him. To get in front of him and surround him and then take their time ripping him apart. He wanted to puke. He wanted to feel like the walls weren’t closing in. He wanted to be back in his room- hell he’d go back to taking that fucking exam. He’d go back to anything. Anything but this. 

He launched himself into the clearing not daring to look back as the roars continued. He sprinted for the back door praying to anyone who would listen that the door would be open. Thankfully his prayers were swiftly answered as the door burst open and Ralph was standing there crossbow in hand. Despite himself Virgil felt his lips curl into a smile as he watched his friend take aim. He ran toward him not bothered with where Ralph was aiming. It could be to his heart for all Virgil cared, it would be better than being torn apart. But he heard the whistle of an arrow flying past his head and the screech of a pierced tyren. He didn’t dare look back. 

It was close. Ten steps. Five. Four. Three. Two. One. 

Virgil threw himself onto Ralph sending them both flying to the ground and he could only laugh in relief as they both hit the ground, and the door slammed shut behind him. 

Virgil closed his eyes letting his tears fall as he listened to the sound of Ralph’s heartbeat. Ralph himself did nothing simply laying there, not saying a word nor pushing Virgil away. But after a moment Virgil pulled himself off and Ralph moved himself into a sitting position. Today’s face scanning Virgil with eyes that screamed worry. 

“I’m okay,” Virgil said finally. 

“No you’re not,” he disagreed. “No one’s okay right now.”

Virgil only gave a nod as he wiped at his face. When he had he looked back to Simon’s face unsure of what to say or do- but he found his gaze drifting above his head to the screen name which still managed to float about his head, lordofthelies.

“This is too real,” he said finally. 

Simon gave a chuckle, “Not the word I’d pick, but yeah. You sure you’re okay?”

“None of them got me,” Virgil assured him, but seeing the disbelief in Simon’s face he continued. “But I never thought I’d be scared of tyrens ever again. Haven’t worried about them since I got past level 45.”

“I’m not sure if alcohol works here,” Simon said standing. His eyes darted around his office before he extended a hand. “Join me in finding out?”

“Hell yes.”

They drank and sat in a comfortable silence and it wasn’t until Virgil could really feel its mind numbing effects that he spoke again. “Customers?”

“None,” Jack replied. “Today was the peace talk remember? I had closed in order to prep for the guilds which had rented out the space for a private space to talk. They had just walked into the forest and me back into my office when...”

Virgil nodded and knocked back the rest of his glass and reached to get himself a refill. “I had been out scrap picking. I had just teleported.”

“Have you been able to reach anyone else?” 

Virgil shook his head, “I don’t even know how.”

“To be honest I’m not entirely sure either. I was just thinking that I needed to message you no matter what; and then I heard the sent sound. And then I could hear you.”

“Have you gotten anyone else?”

“A few. Tact, Rolls, Bilder67. But for those who aren’t responding I don’t know if it’s because they’re not logged in or because of something else.”

“They probably don’t know how.”

Piggy’s eyes showed overwhelming disbelief but he changed the subject. “You should get some sleep. I’m going to stay up in case anyone comes.”

“But-” 

“You know where my room is.”

Virgil wanted to argue, but the thought of sleep was enticing, so he made his way upstairs to the small little loft and flopped on the bed, drifting off near instantly. 

~~~~

“Morning.”

“Morning,” Virgil mumbled back, moving to sit at the bar counter. “No one came then?”

Simon shook his head then he sipped at what must’ve been coffee. “None. And I’ve only heard back from Tact... but I figured out a few things.”

“Like how to cook us breakfast?”

A smirk graced that face as he turned slightly to face Virgil. “I was going to explain that I figured how to use game controls but I mean if you want burned eggs I can do that instead.”

“You can’t cook?” Virgil asked in surprise. 

“Not well.”

“And you own a Tavern?��

“A virtual tavern. Why don’t you cook and I’ll explain?”

“Alright,” Virgil shrugged, hopping off his stool and making his way to the kitchen. He paused upon entering it, “How do I even access food? Is it in the cabinets? Or my inventory?”

“Ah, so you do need to know how to play.” Simon smiled. 

“Just hand me food.”

Simon shook his head, “You need to learn. Basically focus on what you usually see on the computer screen.”

Virgil raised an eyebrow but when Simon made no move to do anything he closed his eyes picturing his screen in his mind. In the top corner left would be his health. In the bottom right would be the mini map of the area, and his five saved skills. In the bottom left corner would be the inventory he’s wearing, the stats of his clothes and his sword. And in the top right would be the bar for him to access skills or inventory. Picturing it all he took a deep breath and opened his eyes and nearly stepped back in shock to see his screen as pictured. 

And he wasn’t exactly sure if he was shocked or relieved to see his HP at 73%. 

“Push inventory,” Simon advised. 

Virgil nodded and reached up to hit the word inventory and was surprised to see as the boxes appeared. For a few moments he scrolled through what he had, before he found some eggs and he apprehensively moved to tap the icon. Except his arm went into it and his fingers closed around a large egg. He pulled his arm back and the large egg came with it- he needed to take it in two hands to ensure he didn’t drop it. 

“Nice,” Simon nodded, moving past him to turn on the stove and setting a pan on the burner. “I want it over easy.”

“You’re getting scrambled.” Virgil replied, setting the egg on the counter and already searching his inventory for some milk. “This thing is too big for me to flip it. It’s scrambled or nothing.”

“Fine.”

They lapsed into silence as Virgil worked, but a question was still burning in his mind. “The Starter Village... it’s probably safest there, isn’t it?”

Jack gave a sigh, “Probably. But it’s also probably swarmed with people thinking the same.”

“Safety in numbers?”

“Chaos in crowds.”

“Avoid people then.”

“That’s not what I mean. I said I talked to Tact right? People are rioting in the Starter Village. And most cities. They’re gonna deplete all their resources. Meanwhile it’s just the two of us here, we’d last longer here. And if someone makes it here? Well, if we’re gonna survive we need strength. People who can make it here are strong. We know that much.”

“We don’t even know if we can make it here anymore,” Virgil pointed out as he put the eggs on a plate. “But I get what you mean. Is Tact coming here?”

Jack gave a shrug as he handed Virgil a fork and poked at the food. “I don’t know. He said he wanted to gather information first, but I doubt he’ll come this way until we figure out what happens when HP reaches zero. And if health potions work.”

“I hope they do.”

“Same. And when people do get here. I think we should lay low for a while. People will probably swarm you for new armor and swords. Maybe we can get more information from listening to the chaos. But it might be a few days before anyone comes.”

Virgil only nodded, not wanting to acknowledge that they could really be here that long. 

~~~~

Nine days. 

It had been nine days since Virgil found himself trapped in the game he had fallen in love with. And he still found there wasn’t much he could do. One day four he and Jack had been bored and daring enough to step outside the Tavern, to see how their swordsmanship fared against one another before even daring to take steps in the woods. 

From it Virgil had learned he could still use basic moves and swing his sword well enough. And he had also realized he could use his saved skills or very basic skills the same way he had accessed his inventory. But now one day nine neither he nor Jack had figured out how to do both simultaneously. And it seemed the few customers and coworkers which had trickled in didn't have a clue either. They had all run for their lives and stuck to the basic skills and had barely managed to make it to the Tavern. But all of them agreed that despite the danger outdoors the Tavern was safer than the cities which were rapidly running out of space, and due to fear of going hunting players were running out of money and had resorted to robbing one another. Virgil could only hope those people wouldn’t come his way. 

“Hey! Anthony! Get me another beer!”

Virgil only blinked at the drunk customer (blueskiesareyellow according to his screen name), “Hello sir, would you like to browse my shop?”

“Beer! I want to buy beer!”

“I’m sorry I don’t sell that item. But I do my best to sell all sorts of armor, weapons, and rare items. Would you like to look around?”

The man gave a look of disgust and began shouting at one of the Tavern girls, MannaM, to get him a beer. “Damn NPC. Good for nothing.”

A woman further down the bar gave a laugh, and Virgil recognized her as one of his repeat customers, FuckThisImTheB3st. “Be nice to my man Anthony. He’s got some good stuff to sell!”

Virgil gave him a slight smile, “Hello ma’am, would you like to browse my shop?”

“Not right now,” she dismissed. 

“Alright. Please let me know when I can be of service.”

On any other day this would be considered horribly slow. Only six customers, and two workers. Usually they were packed all days of the week with players gossiping information to be sold to the highest bidder. But now all they had was a depleting amount of food and alcohol to be sold. And Virgil wasn’t entirely sure what they would do when they’d run out of food, Simon claimed he was working on it but Virgil doubted he knew either. 

The slamming open of the Tavern door was something of a surprise. Then it walked three faces which Virgil recognized. Virgil tried to keep himself calm as one of which locked eyes with him and stormed up the counter and slammed his hands down on it. “I need the owner. Now.”

Virgil gave him a smile, “I am the owner of my shop. Would you like to browse?”

“What? No- I want the guy who owns this place.”

“I do my best to sell all sorts of armor, weapons, and rare items. Would you like to look around?”

“No! I want to speak to the owner.”

“I am the owner, sir. Would you like to browse-“

“Are you even listening to me?”

“He’s an NPC dumbass!” FuckThisImTheB3st shouted. 

Tact stepped up next to his companion. “Hello Anthony, May we gain entry to your shop?”

Virgil gave him a smile and moved out from the behind the bar and led the way to the hidden door. He unlocked it and stepped into his shop. Inside Simon stood holding out an armored vest to a player, kittycat=patt, but both looked up as Virgil entered. 

“Tact!” Simon smiled. “Good to see you.”

Tact gave a nod as he moved forward leaning on his cane as he did. “I’ve told you many times to call me by name and not that uncreative nickname.”

“And since when do I listen to you?”

“Roman! Remus!” kittycat=patt smiled. “It’s good to see you both! I haven’t seen you both since the Dragon Raid!”

“Patts!” <3getting2Dsat1 cheered running forward to embrace the other girl. The two started talking quickly and suddenly but Virgil was still trying to process that TheSwordTwins- aka the duo with their own YouTube Channel that Virgil had watched every video from were casually standing right in front of him. 

“Tony, lock the door?” Simon asked, stopping Virgil from staring. When the door was locked all of them sat down at the table leaving Virgil standing. 

“Hey Lies,” royaltyforroyalme or Roman started. “Can you tell your NPC to stop staring and leave?”

Simon paused before he shook his head, “He stays. Anyway Tact, why are we all here?”

“My name is Logan,” He corrected instantly. “I am a tactician for the pay, it’s not who I am. But as for why we all are here I have two pieces of information to share. And lucky you for you I won’t charge a fee.”

“How generous.”

“The first is I have seen first hand that just as when this game was purely game, revival is possible.”

“You’ve seen it?” kittycat=patt blurted.

Logan gave a nod, “I have. I had posted myself outside of the East Hospital and was awaiting to see if anyone revived. And someone had. Two evenings ago I was about to head back to the inn where I was staying when the tell tale glow of the building started and a player appeared in front of it proclaiming and crying in relief at still being alive. I kept my post until this morning and confirmed this was not a fluke by watching it happen multiple times and I also interviewed each of the revived players. Thus I can conclude that when a player's HP reaches zero they come back to life as a character should. But at the same time it doesn’t seem to be a pleasant experience.”

“I think that’s the best thing I've heard since this started,” Piggy commented, relaxing in his chair. “But what’s the second piece of information?”

“I have a theory- or perhaps hopeful thoughts on how to get out of here.”

“What is it?” Virgil blurted moving closer. 

“Ah, is that what it takes to get you to break character Anthony?” Logan asked, amused. 

“Answer the question.”

Logan nodded. “The main quest. This game was designed so that it would update itself when the main quest was completed. Perhaps a fix to the servers can free us. That’s why I asked you all here. Lies is not only a legendary holder, but one of the biggest names in the information trade. Roman and Remus each hold one as well, and when I called both they told me Patton was as well. And you Anthony are certainly high enough level to aid us.”

“That’s a gamble.”

“It is,” Logan acknowledged. “But it is better than simply sitting and waiting for rescue?”

“Wait,” Roman cut in. “You’re not an NPC?”

Virgil blinked, “No. I’m not.”

“Then why?”

“People are more likely to talk about things when they don't know they’re being listened to,” Piggy commented. “And now since the joke wasn’t as funny as I intended, Tony come sit.”

“I can’t go get a chair, everyone out there doesn't know I’m not an NPC.”

He patted his lap, “Sit.”

“Fuck off Piggy.”

“Am I not good enough to sit on?”

Virgil resisted the urge to punch him in the face as he looked back to Logan. “If the game reboots if the quest is cleared, wouldn’t that just kill us?”

“As I confirmed there is no death as we know it in this world, that is unlikely,” Logan replied. 

“But how are you going to do it? We’re still missing five swords. Not to mention the main quest is literally impossible. That’s why no one has done it!”

“There was no motivation to. Before the goal of most players was to simply enjoy the game for all about its main quest. We simply need to shift focus.”

Virgil shook his head, “Ralph tell him it’s impossible.”

Ralph paused in thought before he sighed. “We don’t have any better ideas at the moment. And at least it’s something.”

“What if we only have a limited number of lives?” Virgil tried. 

“There’s only one way to find out!” Remus cheered. “Roman! Stab me through the boob!”

Roman paid his brother no mind, “He does have a point. We don’t know if our luck will run out.”

“I think we should go for the swords,” kittycat=patt tossed in. “If it’s possible we can get out quicker shouldn’t we?”

“Do we know where the missing swords are?”

At that Logan turned to Jack, “What do you know?”

Jack gave a frown and his eyes flickered to Virgil before he crossed his arms over his chest. “Before we talk about that we should talk about logistics.”

“What's there to talk about?” Roman frowned. “Either you have the information or you don’t.”

“The game ends when one person collects all ten legendary swords. Shouldn’t we discuss who will be doing the holding of these swords? Because quite frankly I don’t know anyone sitting here well enough to believe you won’t steal everything and sell it.”

“I want to go home, not make money!” kittycats=patt said quickly. 

Logan gave a nod, “We both know I have gold to spare.”

“I want to get back to my life,” Roman agreed. 

“How much money do you think you’re all worth?” Remus asked. 

“Remus.”

“I’m kidding Ro! Kidding! I wanna get back too... mostly. I mean can you blame me? This is cool as hell.”

“I suggest we each hold onto our own swords until the end,” Logan stated, putting things back on track. “And as for acquiring more, I suggest the person who claims it carries it. And once we have them all between us we figure out how to clear the game itself. Until then we have no choice but to trust one another.”

For some reason Virgil wasn’t sure he liked that idea. 

“We’re going to need to practice fighting,” Virgil pointed out. “Jack we could leave the Tavern to MannaM and head to a low level area to grind and figure it out.”

Jack gave a nod of thought, “We certainly could.”

“Have any of you figured out how to use the skills?” kittycats=patt asked. “I can use the easy ones but I can’t do any combinations.”

“I can,” Remus tossed in. “You just gotta move and it kind of happens.”

“I’ll need you to be a bit more descriptive,” Logan frowned. 

Remus gave a shrug and pulled at the mustache on her face. “They just happened. Like muscle memory or something.”

“Hm, then training will need to proceed. Perhaps you can tell us what it is we will need to know about the other locations when we have?”

“No, I’ll tell you here,” Jack sighed. “I know this is the most secure spot. I can only hope your lips are sealed just as tightly.”

Virgil wanted to disapprove, but he knew Simon was right. “Well maybe first we should start with what swords you all have and then Simon and I can tell you everything we know?”

There was a pause as eyes looked round the table before Logan spoke, “I hold the Sword of Time.”

“I have the Sword of Ice and Water,” Patts announced. 

“Sword of Sound,” Remus put in. 

“Wind,” Roman said quickly. 

“Faces,” Simon finished. “As for the others, I know that two elemental swords are still fully unknown, some rumors say they are in circulation others say they are yet to be claimed. I personally believe there’s truth to both sides. One of them, likely the Sword of Stone, is in circulation, given the Sword of Flame is pretty distinct. Someone would know if it was used. The Swords of Darkness and Light are also both unclaimed. Tony has a theory on those. And then the Sword of Stars is in circulation. Last I knew it was in the hands of a guild, so Mr. Guild Hopper might know something.”

Roman crossed his arms, “I don’t.”

Simon didn’t seem convinced but he let it slide. “Tony, your theory?”

Virgil gave a sigh, “The location of the Sword of Darkness isn’t exactly a secret. But despite that no one has been able to get it given the pitch blackness, and the boss monster. According to the lore to the game, the sword belonged to a fallen angel who tried to attack the heavens. When he lost and died the sword created the barrier to protect him. Meanwhile the Sword of Light was considered tainted and needed to be purified. But my theory is this, that given the true quest of the game is to unite all the swords, that the Sword of Light and the Sword of Flame must both be used to retrieve The Sword of Darkness.”

“I don’t understand,” Logan frowned. “I understand wanting to use the Sword of Light but why Flame? It’s said that any lights are automatically extinguished within the dark.”

“Yes, but there’s multiple reports about the boss monster inside. Some seem to think it’s the fallen angel himself revived, some say it’s a dragon, some think both. But all seem to agree that they were certainly burned inside the dark. Now perhaps the Sword of Ice and Water could put it out. But if the Sword of Flame is used it could theoretically form a protective shield of flames to absorb those thrown at us. Or something to that effect.”

Logan paused and Virgil could see the wheels turning behind those glasses, the Tactician's mind working. “Then after training we’d need to go after the remaining sphinxes and gain clues about the Swords of Stars, Light, along the way.”

“I can continue to check in with my network,” Simon promised. “But we need to be careful about people knowing we’re going after the swords.”

Virgil gave a nod before a thought occurred to him, “Eric please do not tell R3M333. He’s not subtle.”

“He’s not that bad. He’s good at collecting information, just not keeping it...”

“Please Eric.”

“Fine.”

“Real quickly,” Roman put in. “What should I call you? Because you’re not-NPC has called you like ten different names.”

Eric blinked as if the thought hadn’t occurred to him, “Tony is a bit of a nerd. See my screen name is lordofthelies. But he read it first as lord of the flies, and ever since he calls me by the name of different characters from the book. But you guys can call me whatever, Lies, Lord, or-”

“Sexy?” Remus asked. 

Eric gave an awkward smile, “I was going to say my middle name is Dante. You can me that or Dee. Trapped in a game or not, I rather not give you my first name.”

“Pleasure to meet you Dee!” kittycats=patt smiled. “I’m Patton! Call me that or Patt! But before we leave, can I buy some armor off of you too? As much as I love this outfit it’s not good for defense.”

Virgil paused looking over Patt’s oversized skirt and heels silently wondering how she had managed to make it to the Tavern in the first place. “Yeah feel free to look around my shop.”

~~~~

“You think this is all a terrible idea don’t you?”

Virgil looked up from where he was sitting on Dee’s bed and gave a slight nod, “I don’t trust them. And yet we just told them everything, Dee.”

“Not everything.”

“Oh?”

Dee raised an eyebrow as he sat beside Virgil on the bed, “I know you lied about your theory. That’s not it at all.”

Virgil gave a shrug, “You don’t know that.”

“Yes I do. I may not have heard your theory before but I know that’s not it. I just know you’re a good liar. But I also won’t ask you to tell me what it is.”

Virgil looked into his eyes- those actual eyes. The way Dee has designed the character before he had earned his legendary sword. “Then what are you asking of me?”

“I ask that you don’t trust anyone.”

“I take it that includes you?”

“I’m number one on that list.”

Virgil gave a yawn as he laid back on the bed, “Then make sure I’m number one in yours.”

~~~~

Level One - Level Two - Level Three