#finally got a family gathering following my uncle's death out of the way

[nametakensff]

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[feuqueerfire]

Never Let Me Go Ep 1 - 4 Live Blogging

I’ve been anticipating this for so long and my interest even spiked halfway through 2022 so it’s a bit :0 that I’m finally getting to watch it; first show of 2023 no less! I’m kinda really nervous though, so I’m getting around to it at 11pm lol Hope I love it

Also, hope I enjoy my on-air show experience with this too! Second time after The Eclipse.

Ep 1 (Jan 1) 

1-1

please Neung’s birthday wish basically hoping that his dad stays healthy and happy and with him for a long time. it’s because he said it out loud that it won’t come true, isn’t it? haha

His dad’s birthday gift is a necklace that says “Only one” in Chinese characters. Neung = One, Dia = alone or only or something from what I could gather. so it’s a reflection of Neung’s Thai name, which comes from the fact that he’s an only child and he’s the only one his dad has hopes to continue the family and business

I’ve seen a few comments here and there saying the ?caretaker?servant?assistant?security? mans (Palm’s dad as we’ll find out later) might be behind Neung’s dad’s death and as he insists that the family stays to wait away from the rain (even though they’re already standing in the rain) while he goes to get the car, I can begin to see why they’d think that.

Did Palm’s father even call the ambulance?

Episode Name: Father 

“You’re the only hope for the [surname] family” both his father and now mother have said this to Neung like dang, no pressure

Neung’s mom so beautiful and cool

oh sighting of Perth and his father (who I already know is Neung’s uncle)

the music when Palm’s doing his boating duties :> I wanna be in a boat on the sea too although I’d suck at fishing so bad

ooh okay I got spoiled that Pawin’s character was the one who beat Neung up in Ep 3 and saw that ppl said it was an easy guess but didn’t know why. after seeing him stand up for Neung only to ask Neung for a favour from the principal, I understand

oh lol Ben’s an endearing character “When you play the piano, you look very happy.” “You watched me?” “uh No, I didn’t” I’m glad to see the Ben and Neung storyline

Neung and Palm first meeting and I can’t tell if I’m imagining tension just because I want it to be there or not

1-2

damn, Neung heard a sound had to go explore with a gun

The pool scene, specifically the beginning, kinda cheesy but I’m into it nonetheless

Neung slapping Palm’s pleading hands away 

ngl I thought Neung in the back of the car driving away while leaving Palm behind would be a more dramatic scene from the trailer lol

bro the way my wi-fi went out for a few mins??? 

i like them showing Palm travelling to school and how he kinda stares at everything because it’s his first time whereas a seasoned Bangkok resident would stride past it all quickly

also Palm sees the banners that demand land back, so Neung’s family’s businesses is kinda like Tawi right

wait at first I was like why do the kids make fun of Neung, I feel like it makes way more sense to suck up to him the way Pawin’s character is doing and talk shit behind his back. but seems like all the kids in this “special class” and this school in general perhaps come from influential families (even if Neung’s in the most influential), so they don’t care about burning that bridge? still stupid to do but makes slightly more sense that they’re already rich kids

Palm being spoken to and blending in with the kids so easily as he’s invited to play basketball makes Neung understandably envious

“Are you following me?” “No” as Palm gets caught following Neung

please Neung dragging Palm in to the hallway and them standing 0.5 inches apart for no reason even though there’s space

Palm horny as hell, I believe it, what with the moments in the swimming pool scene + the hallway

1-3

Neung’s mom is cool but I hope she doesn’t girlboss too close to the sun and get killed by Neung’s uncle or something. Also I was thinking that if this was a show from the uncle’s POV, it’d be about how his deceased brother’s wife is pushing him out of the business even though it’s a family business and how it’s unfair that he hasn’t been left a hotel or smth as if that family is conspiring to ensure everything stays in their hands etc like who’s seen as right vs wrong could be different, so i wonder if Tanya is sketchy too

Neung being a bit of an asshole and dangling not telling Palm’s dad about Palm swimming at night above his head, so true.

1-4

Well Neung easily figured out Palm was sent to protect him

ah here’s the “We’re our father’s puppets”

bratty and entitled Neung who’s only looking for a friend agh fr

“Can you help me, Chanon? You’re the person I trust the most” no like Neung’s mom telling Non this definitely makes it seem more like he’ll be behind Neung’s father’s murder but he has like 0 motive right now unless he’s working for Neung’s uncle who promised him riches

Non really went we owe them a lot and this could be a lifelong job for you to his son

Neung having that smirk on his face even as he asks Palm to be his friend because he wants a friend but doesn't yet want to be vulnerable enough to be genuine

Linguistics: Palm calls him Khun Nu even as he agrees like “If that’s what you want, Khun Nu, I’ll be your friend” or smth. I think it’s more like Khun Nu is the 2nd person pronoun actually “I (pom) will be Khun Nu’s friend.” On the other hand, Neung has been using gu/meung toward Palm

Linguistics: I’m glad I understand more of certain Thai words and registers because it seems to play a significant role in this because of the difference in status and class. 

“Khun nu”. in 1-1, Neung tells Uncle Non to stop calling him Khun Nu and after some convincing, Non says “Alright, Khun Nu” which is funny lol but is just translated as “Alright” in the subs, meaning people who don’t know it lose that aspect (the main aspect of the conversation because “Alright” means Non won’t call him Khun Nu anymore vs “Alright, Khun Nu” which shows that Non has no intention of stopping)

Palm using -khab and khun nu with Neung (What does he use for I pronouns? pom? I haven’t noticed yet). He used gu easily with the classmate during the basketball scene though

Anyway, good first ep! It did a lot of setup for the family dynamics, school situation, and character’s personalities and backgrounds. The story doesn’t seem like it’ll be unpredictable but rather about the journey and I’m into that. I haven’t been looking forward to this because of heavy plot or twists and turns but rather character dynamics, progressing relationships, and certain tropes. I wanna see where they go and how we get there. 

Also, this is one of the only times I’m excited for a love triangle. I’m into whatever Ben and Neung will have for a brief time. I wanna know why they won’t work out (Ben backstabber? they just realize they like the other guys more? who breaks it off?) and how they transition to their main pairs.

The acting is not incredible like the way it’s in some of my other favourite shows but it’s not terrible either. I think the writing and cohesiveness of the story is good so far, hope the screenwriting continues to be good because some of my favourite shows fall flat it certain aspects of that (Not Me and The Eclipse had weak ending and inconsistent writing respectively). 

Ep 2 (Jan 2/3)

It’s 12AM and I’ve not even started the ep yet so technically it’s jan 3 already but no I’m counting it as the 2nd’s ep. I’m so sleepy and tired since I just got back home from a dawaat but I wanna at least start this ep

2-1

is that Palm being annoyed at having to serve food to Neung?

Linguistics: Neung said the words “puen gu” when it translated to “don’t you wanna eat with me?” i wanna know what he said esp bc the next line is “you said you’d do what i told you”

Linguistics: okay yknow maids or children of maids in BD would definitely not call the children of their boss with “apni/highest most respected register” it’d be “tumi” as any other adult would call people the same age or younger than them. so the fact that Non and Palm are soo subservient and use -krab is interesting (this might just be Thai society and not showing that they are especially subservient compared to other people of similar status difference btw. i’m just noting the difference between this and my culture)

Episode Name: Friends

damn not Palm not knowing a lick of Mandarin but being in the class with everybody else since he’s in the same class as Neung

(Fave) Linguistics: insane how Chopper just asks to use gu/meung with Palm and it’s an easy agreement. Neung also turns his head to them when this happens (Palm still uses -khab and Khun Nu with Neung)

Phum really is a dickhead, talking about Neung’s bag being cut in front of the whole class and asking if he did something to someone

Linguistics: Ben uses gu/meung with Neung and is straight forward in asking if he wants to be friends

oof not this Ben and Neung blooming friendship thing as Neung becomes confident that Ben’s not just using him. 

sometimes the music choice for this show is hm

(Fave) this fucking scene is so brainworm inducing. first of all, the word is pengyou ie friend. Neung literally takes Palm’s hands and places the fingers on his neck and tells him to remember the feeling as he says those words. Palm’s eyes lingering on Neung’s face, I so believe he’s already insanely attracted to Neung.

Linguistics: Neung wants Palm to call him Neung Diao so bad instead of Khun Nu that he tries to trick him by having him repeat Peng You x3 and then sneaking in a Neung Diao. Palm manages to not say the full thing though

oof, Neung just wants a friend whose friendship doesn’t depend on place, time, or status

“Do you like when I order you around? Fine! From now on, don’t call be Khun Nu again.” this fucking dynamic

Linguistics: at like 16:50 when Palm’s saying he can’t say gu/meung to Neung and Neung says fine you don’t have to say gu/meung to me but don’t call me Khun Nu, the subs don’t mention the gu/meung part and just allude to ‘call you that’ and ‘call me that’ which makes it kinda not quite make sense bc what are you talking about. i’m glad i can pick up them saying gu-meung to be able to understand what ‘that’ is referring to in the subs

Linguistics: Palm says he’ll call Neung as Khun Neung instead of Khun Nu

it’s 1 I should go to sleep oof maybe after part 2

2-2

Neung’s uncle is like an evil version of Yangfrom To Sir, With Love lol. also kinda funny to think of him as Chopper’s dad when heseems like a decade older max

Neung laying it on thick for his mom to get her to allow Palm to swim ahh

school giving special treatment to Neung by letting him go through even though he’s late while the other boys are doing pushups and he offers to do them too oof that’s not good for making the other boys like Neung nor for making Neung not feel singled out

both Ben and Chopper saying it’s the other who stopped hanging out with them 

Chopper bitcoin trader noooo

oof Chopper accusing Ben of wanting something from Neung. still up in the air whether it’s true or not but it’s still inappropriate for Chopper to insinuate that

Neung’s bratty “So, am I smart to come up with that excuse?” is sooo yeah i love the haughty vibes of this character

“Wait. Why don’t you swim a bit longer? I want to watch you.” that’s so fucking gay, not to mention Palm’s shirtless and his muscles are flexing as he swims like 

okay acc time for sleep idk how it’s 1:47am and I’ve fucking watched 2 parts of the ep lol

ummm i should’ve finished watching the rest of this ep before going out at 1:30pm on Jan 3 but it’s 12:30am on Jan 4 and I’m just getting around to it lol. I did reread 80% of Son of Neptune though oof so good <3 

Ep 4 was released today so technically the plan was to have watched that but it I’ll finish up ep 2 and go to sleep

2-3

“how can you help? music is an art, you’re only good at physical activity” damn Neung, not holding back lmfao asshole for no reason

lol Palm’s face when he realizes the friend that told Neung about this position is Ben

Linguistics: did Macky use the 2nd person pronoun ‘nai’ for Neung? Neung’s using ‘pom’ for 1pp

lol Macky very presumptuous with the “or is it that you’re interested in me, huh? :D” but I like that in a girl so

Neung getting annoyed by Palm and Macky dancing, I wonder if it’s a platonic possessive jealousy or if he already romantically likes him a bit and if so, if he thinks it’s a platonic thing or if he knows he’s kinda into Palm 

lol all the boys noticing Neung when he’s playing the piano and Neung always asking them about it like oh? you noticed?

heh Neung and Palm with the Roti Sai Mai where Neung can’t help being a dickhead with his ‘are your hands clean’ but also can’t see Palm be dejected, so eating it anyway

Neung loves testing his power and pushing boundaries like when Palm asks if he wants another one he replies with “if i said i want a 100 more, would you make them for me?”

(Fave) my tags for this scene:  #several things like first of all food (and how it's different from the breakfast scene)#secondly neung's inability to not be an asshole with the 'are your hands clean' but inability to see palm dejected and eating it#thirdly the way neung just tests boundaries and checks his power over palm with the 'if i want 100 pieces' thing like broooo#but also him dangling the order and command that they're friends over palm's head#with bringing up smth like 'aren't you my friend' or 'can my friend not?' (idk i just heard __ puen gu mi dai-o?) to get palm to eat

2-4

ben and neung are cute together lol ben trying so hard

pls the gong sound when Palm catches Ben and Neung together like girl it’s not that serious

oof idk whether I want Ben to be a schemer or not 

ooh Ben seeing Palm get into Neung’s car and also seeing the motorcycle people cut them off

Palm huddling Neung 

damn Tanya really going “Palm you must protect Neung both physically and emotionally” as if that’s just a regular ask of someone. + Neung overhearing them say it too and Palm making eye contact while agreeing

Fave Scenes: 

Pengyou touching throat scene, it’s just mind-numbing and I’ve already written about it above

the Roti Sai Mai scene bc so many things are at play

Ep 3 (Jan 4/5)

It’s 12:30AM on Jan 5 and I’ve finished reading Son of Neptune, the first bit of Mark of Athena and last part of Blood of Olympus. Then had a crisis about whether to retry reading the Trials of Apollo series or finish the Malec book #2 (The Lost Book of the White or smth) or catch up to this ep rip so many things pulling me. Think I’ll just watch the first part of this ep and go to sleep and finish the rest tmrw

3-1

please Neung’s pleased face at getting Palm to sit next to him in the car

I wonder what Palm’s dad thinks about 1) Palm disagreeing with Neung and 2) Neung saying “you can be physical and i’ll be the brains. that way we’re a good match.”

Episode Name: Enemies

once again Neung’s face at indirectly standing up for Palm during Chinese class

Neung really divulges to Phum that it’s troublesome and unstable at home after his dad’s death (like even saying his uncle’s mad or smth)

who’s Phum’s dad? What’d Neung mean by he saw him in the news?

lol Ben pulling a Bad Buddy Pran with the “you and Palm... what’s your relationship with him?” except instead of asking Palm (ie. Ink), he’s asking Neung (ie. Pat in this scenario) which I guess also happens in the sleepover scene in ep 4.

oh, Neung’s telling Ben that Palm’s his driver’s son, mans is just in a divulging information mood today ig

Ben’s straightforward with his “if you need a friend or someone who can take care of you, I think I can do that”

“I just want someone who believes in me and doesn’t treat me like I’m weak” “I don’t need extra training to do that for you.”  smooth Ben

(Fave) This Ben and Neung interaction like I’m loving the Ben and Neung progression bc I wanted this relationship and love triangle to happen so bad. i also talked about why i want it down below. 

3-2

ahhh Ben with his air of innocent presumptions and subtle digs and letting Palm know his own place while also letting him know Ben’s place with the “I’ll be around more often. Hope you can trust me more, I won’t hurt Neung”

(Fave) insane dynamics while dancing. Palm dancing with Macky while staring at Neung and Neung staring back while dancing with Ben. The two pairs bump into each other. Then Neung shaking off thoughts of Palm and Macky (girl is it Maggie or Macky) that night vs Palm smiling while imagining him and Neung dancing instead; shows where each person is in terms of their feelings as well.

time for me to sleep

3-3

I hope they keep up this thread about the land Tanya’s taking back or whatever and the citizens who were leasing the land are upset about it. She reassures Neung that that the land is theirs and they’re doing nothing wrong but hmmm

oof the shooting range scene. “think of someone you love and want to protect”

please I miss how Yang and Tian were so ride or die best brothers for each other in To Sir, With Love despite everybody putting them in competition. Chopper’s disinterest toward Neung’s position and empire gives me Yang vibes so I kinda want them to be supportive happy cousins pls (though if Chopper gets mad at Neung or betrays him to help his dad, that’d be interesting too)

oh Chopper saying “Don’t get too close to [Ben]. He can’t stay close to someone for too long.” cuz they used to be close in grade 10 (they’re in gr 12 now ig?)

damn Chopper’s dad really pushing Tanya. It’s not that he’s wrong because Tanya is struggling but giving him parts of the business doesn’t seem like a viable solution either since he’s such a snake

Chopper’s kinda interesting because he also makes digs at Palm but it seems more unintentional than the passive-aggressive digs Ben was making at Palm. Chopper seems like in the same boat as Neung where they don’t fully understand how to bridge these social class gaps elegantly.

Chopper’s dad now knows about Palm... wonder if he’ll try to use him or anything

lol Palm “talking back” and teasing Neung at the pool, so true

oh yeah Ben’s comments were eating away at Palm, which makes sense. ig it’s good that he went to ask Neung whether he told Ben about Palm being his servant and Neung both admitted it but also said he didn’t say servant

okay i knew smth about necklace being taken by Pawin’s character. so Neung puts it in the locker, Pawin (Phum?) sees, steals it when he goes to the bathroom while Neung’s in the pool, Neung realizes his locker is unlocked and the necklace isn’t there but he has a tracker on that thing lol good for him

3-4

no interesting because I do want Neung’s parents to be capitalist leeches who are cheating the villagers and Phum's family to be suffering bc of it and Neung to have to come to that reckoning (even though he doesn’t deserve to be bullied by Phum and other students)

lol Phum clocking their gay asses and thus resorting to homophobia

Palm going into a blind rage hitting Phum for hurting Neung

(Fave) this necklace putting on scene is sooooooooo and the convo before it too

Fave Scenes

Ben and Neung’s little convo about Ben being his bodyguard

the Ben-Neung and Palm-Macky dance scene + the imaginary Neung-Palm dance. I like the music during the scene as well

Palm retrieving Neung’s necklace and Neung letting him put it on him

Love Triangles

The reason I’m so in for this Ben/Neung relationship is that I loved the image of Ben and Neung holding hands while Palm walked behind them sooooo much omg. I like pining and jealousy up to a certain amount but pining forever for no reason without saying anything or being overly jealous over nothing is very offputting, so pining because your crush is in a relationship (not to mention the class divide) + the jealousy from that is just so good.

Also, I say I hate love triangles but I just hate it when we the audience and the characters all know the endgame couple. In YA love triangles, A clearly loves B much much more than C but will string C along for so long and they won’t even really have a blossoming romance or go far. Media with love triangles that work are The Infernal Devices trilogy (Will, Jem, and Tessa all love each other dearly and Tessa does get into a serious relationship with Jem before with Will and then again with Jem after Will dies) and to a smaller extent, Light On Me (Taekyung was actually interested in and invested in Daon but the relationship didn’t work out because of character differences, not just because we all knew Shinwoo was endgame from the beginning).

Here we can see what draws Neung to Ben (his one friend at his same social status, Ben saying the right things) and why, even if Neung likes Palm (TODO: which does he? and does he know whether he does?), he’d pursue a relationship with Ben. So, I hope that regardless of whether Ben’s a scheming bastard or dies or they just break up, that their relationship makes sense for both Neung’s character and the narrative and how Palm reacts to it.

Characters

I think the strongest aspect of this show is the characters; I love how they’re being created.

Neung is a rich boy, he’s sassy, he’s naive in certain aspects but he’s very clever in others and can manipulate situations/people to his desires. 

Palm is falling a bit too fast for my tastes (does he really think of Neung as the great love he wants to protect when shooting?) but is interesting nonetheless with how he interacts with Neung when alone vs with others outside of the house vs with Neung when others are around

I think Phum was interesting because even though he’s a pesky asshole, if we were watching the show from his POV of having his father attempt suicide because some capitalist fuckers were taking their land and making them lose money, we’d be so mad at the heir of this empire, strutting around and acquiring the benefits of squashing other people 

Chopper seems genuine so far, even though he keeps accidentally offending people (Ben’s intentions with Neung, calling Palm a servant). He’s also kinda funny about Ben, as if mans got his heart broken by him.

Ben listen I like him because he seems like he wants something, though I can’t tell if it’s only to be Neung’s bf or more. He seems calculated but I don’t think he’s fully evil, more like passive aggressive and wanting something. 

I’m curious to see more about Chopper and Ben’s story as well.

Ep 4 (Jan 7)

I’m splitting my time reading the Trials of Apollo novels (30% in book 2) and watching this, so it’s taking a while for me to catch up here

4-1

I wonder if the Phum thing is done or he’ll continue doing things

oho, the way Palm and Neung took forever to let go of each other’s hands

Episode Name: Love

another pleasant Neung and Chopper interaction but I keep anticipating it turning sour in the future maybe

lmfao did Neung really come outside to stare at Palm washing the car in short sleeves and shorts for a minute and then go back inside

naurrr is Maggie (prev. Macky) tricking Palm to hang out or did he forget?

pls the way Neung looks down/over Palm’s body like 3 times as if he can’t control his eyes when Palm opens the door shirtless

pls Neung’s “when I hear you, nobody will hear it *smirk*” 

please Neung dragging Palm up to sit on the bed and Palm’s facial expression like pls let me live i’m done

Neung’s so forceful with Palm both with how he speaks and how he just grabs his jersey, it’s acc soooo alkdjf he’s kinda mean? arrogant? condescending? about Palm’s choices of festivals though, it’s kinda interesting because that’s not how new friends would talk to each other

4-2

ohhhh interesting, in this Neung and Chopper convo, seems like Neung doesn’t want the business but Chopper does. “I never want to do it. Do you wanna do it?” “Don’t joke with me about this, sutt. I may take it seriously.” “You can take it” in a jokey manner but I wonder whether it’s foreshadowing something; Neung giving it to Chopper in a happy way the way they’re talking here or Chopper (with his dad) taking it by force

lmfao Palm and Maggie really hung out at Palm’s basketball practice?

ooh jealous Neung seeing Maggie post an ig post of her and Palm

please usually Neung finds it amusing when he gets Palm to take back to him but now Palm not doing the assignment because he went out all day + spent time with Maggie but also doesn’t say that he spent time with Maggie means Neung gets irritated at his quips

not the story of the holiday being of trails of love and separation lmfao parallels to Palm and Neung ig

what is with this showwwww “If you can [get an A], I’ll have a reward for you” “What?” “What do you want? I can give you everything.” first Neung talking about scolding Palm and now rewarding him goddammit Jojo

please the Ben and Chopper scene is so good. Chopper apologizing for insinuating Ben wants something from him and Ben confessing that he wants Neung to like him back and Chopper’s vision goes hazy. Then him encouraging Ben to confess ahhhhhh and the way Chopper tells Ben to confess is actually mind-bending, like he’s saying all his own thoughts aloud as someone with an unrequited crush on Ben but framing them as Ben’s situation with Neung

Ben: I thought we’d stop being friends after what happened that day. <-- girl what happened on what day?!?!?!?! 

4-3

Palm praying as he hands in the assignment lol

naurrr Neung and Ben are so cute T.T Ben giving Neung the cut paper craft with Neung’s name and reassuring Neung about not devaluing himself, ah cute

I’m not into them more than I have into Neung-Palm but I’m sooo glad they didn’t cut this out from the mock trailer

Also interesting that Neung said he has good feelings about Ben and feels good about being told that he’s liked by such a popular guy like Ben and he’s never been confessed to before. he however doesn’t say that he likes Ben in a romantic sense, though I do think he kinda does

yeah it’s an awkward, stiff kiss but I’m not really mad about it the way people on twitter were lol to me, it’s not meant to be fireworks and passionate because that’s not really their story? It’s cute, a bit awkward, a bit fumbly, and in the end, not quite right not quite what the other needs

oof, I know that Palm saw the kiss based on spoilers but right now, the audience and Neung don’t know that

Palm’s “I don't have a right to get mad at you” 

okay verrry interesting, how at first Palm was sitting down, so even though he was speaking cutly, Neung was taller than him --> Palm gets up all defiantly, making him higher up than Neung --> Neung gets mad and is like aren’t we friends? Why aren’t you telling him things? and then gets up on the higher ground so that they are on the same ground and equal height

Neung saying “You cannot hide your feelings for me” about Palm being upset about smth but like hmm lol

Neung in the closet

Palm really doesn’t trust Ben and I can’t tell whether that means I shouldn’t trust Ben either because it’s foreshadowing or if it’s showing that Palm’s jealous lol

Once again, Neung talks about being wanted by Ben but not about wanting Ben. so ig that’s where they’re heading in terms of Neung liking Ben back

Neung also likes it that he has Palm to watch his back

beautiful beautiful Neung in the bathtub tbh

oof Neung thinking about the Ben and Neung kiss only to be overtaken by Palm and himself thoughts

4-4

ooh i’m so excited to see terrible shitty drunk Neung

oh Neung grinding his teeth with jealousy at Palm and Neung

hehe Neung and Ben are cuuuteeee idk idk

insane shot of Neung taking shots while in the bg Palm and Maggie are talking about going on a trip with a fishing boat

Also this screenshot from @/justafriend-ql from this post about this scene playing out the 4 rules of firearm safety from ep 3

Neung looks beautiful why drinking as well + his watch on his left wrist

upon rewatch: someone pointed out that Palm says ‘Neung’ while trying to dissuade Neung, not Khun Neung ahhhhh guttaral screaming

ohhh terrible horrible words from a drunk Neung hurled towards Palm  which contradicts how he had been trying to act so far but really got Palm where it hurt

upon rewatch: after Neung’s said the words about Palm being his servant and lackey etc, Palm goes back to saying Khun Neung

“You can dance with her but you can’t dance with me, huh?” Oh Neung is fucked in the head rn

oh so that’s how the fight happened? I was wondering how they’d have that in the middle of a cute dance party

oh gross they really had spit and vomit on Neung’s mouth after his retching, fascinating choice

oh Neung was nottt doing well “Palm, I can’t breathe” :0

This episode was so good, it gave me things I wanted (Neung-Ben) and things I didn’t know I wanted but are great (terrible words from a jealous, possessive Neung)

When they added Perth to the cast, I was afraid that they'd scrap the Ben-Neung storyline from the mock trailer or tone it down but no, they're giving me what I wanted!!! We got cute Ben-Neung interactions where Neung’s entertaining it because he likes the attention and Ben might like him genuinely or may have hidden intentions. It’s so good. I saw some people upset that the Ben-Neung kiss happened and that it happened before any Neung-Palm kiss which I don't understand because why would you want Neung-Palm to happen and then for Ben-Neung to happen? bffr. also people were annoyed that it was an awkward kiss but like? i’m pretty sure it’s supposed to be? Ben’s into it but Neung’s not really super into it bc he’s using Ben to feel good, not because he’s romantically interested. I love Neung stringing him along, he’s so selfish and also into Ben being romantically interested in him rather than his wealth or power.

terrible Neung lashing out at the end but ahhh that was so good to me like the whole entire thing with Neung's initial jealousy while playing the piano, followed by the Neung and Ben conversation, the shots of beautiful Neung drinking with Maggie and Palm in the background talking about going on a fishing boat, terrible horrible words from a drunk Neung hurled towards Palm which contradicts how he had been trying to act so far but really got Palm where it hurt (+ Palm’s Neung --> Khun Neung) and then the “You can dance with her but you can’t dance with me, huh?” is soooo fucked. the fact that they had spit and vomit on Neung’s mouth after his retching? fascinating choice. and then Neung was nottt doing well the way he was reaching for Palm and the “Palm, I can’t breathe”

It’s kinda not fun to read the reddit on-air thread or watch tiktoks of ep 4 thoughts because everybody hates ben and/or neung diao but like goddamn there’s no reason to hate ben beyond “eww he’s getting between my ship” (+ some people mentioned him negging Palm in that dance class but like? he’s a jealous boy trying to get his mans? and he seems kinda sus but the hatred seems disproportional to what ben has done so far). with neung diao, the point is that he’s flawed and traumatized and doesn’t know how to have friends and is terrible, like idk whatever it’s just not fun to read rants because i’m having fun with the choices the show is making 

Next Ep 5 Preview: I didn’t watch it but ofc I’ve been spoiled anyway. Someone spreads the photo of Ben and Neung kissing across the school and I think Ben’s terrified of his father or something. Ahh so fucked

I’m excited to watch this for the next 2 months! My second on-air show! 

[yukihirata]

Ancient History

The ultimate test of a man's conscience may be his willingness to sacrifice something today for future generations whose words of thanks will not be heard.

((The following contains subject material that may be triggering to some. Themes included are graphic and intense violence. Read at your own discretion.))

(( Recommended listening: https://youtu.be/lfczAmFIsTE?si=9N76JcBw_p6k7g4d ))

A long time ago, during the Age of Blood and Strife…

Long before Kugane was Hingashi’s capital city, it was a significantly smaller settlement ruled by the Mitsurugi clan. Unlike the other clans, the Mitsurugi clan was not a violent group. The head of the clan, Kanzan, believed in less violent ways to unify his people. He often employed marriages as a tool to bind two clans together, knowing that it would cause strong bonds between two groups of people who were at war with each other. Ninjas were also sent into his opponent’s encampments and cities to gather intelligence on his foes.

On the final days of the Age of Blood were indeed quite bloody. One of the Mirsurugi clan’s enemies, the Naruse clan, was rumored to be on the move for an attack on the Mitsurugi clan’s familial estate. One of the clan’s ninjas was on his return trip, moving his horse as fast as the beast could manage. He carried with him the plans their enemies would use against them. It was night when he arrived at his lord’s estate, both him and his horse out of breath and fatigued.

“Halt!” a man in his 40’s said, holding up a hand. “State your business.”

“I am one of Mitsurugi-sama’s informants,” the ninja gasped as he tossed one leg over the other and hopped off his horse. “Please, I need to see him right away. It’s a matter of life and death.”

“Hirata!” the forty-something man barked out.

A young man in his 20’s stepped forward with a smile. He offered the ninja a polite thirty five degree bow and held a hand out of the man’s report. “I’ll take it to him right away, you have my word,” Hirata had told the Ninja.

“Fine, here. Just please make sure he sees that right away. Please,” the ninja urged the Samurai, reaching out and offering him a folded up piece of parchment.

“Worry not friend, for I, Moriyama Hirata am one of Mitsurugi-sama’s personal Samurai. Your report is in safe hands. Your duty is done, you are free to go as you please,” Moriyama told the ninja, his kind smile never wavering.

With the paperwork in hand, Moriyama did another polite bow before opening the estate’s front gate and slipping inside, letting the large wooden doors close behind him. He then followed the gravel walkway that cut through the estate’s garden that was lovingly tended to by Kanzan’s wife. The sound of a shishi-odoshi wrapping against a stone every few seconds ringing out in the relatively quiet night. As Moriyama strolled through the garden he could smell the Sakura blossoms intertwining with the various other flowers that populated the garden.

“Mitsurugi-sama,” Moriyama called out in a sing-song tone. “I have an intelligence report!”

Kanzan slid a door open and poked his head outside. A much smaller and younger head poked out as well, a little girl beaming up at her father. The pair looked at each other, laughed and went out to greet their friend properly. Kanzan strode over to Moriyama, smiling at the man that he had been friends with his entire life. His daughter, a girl by the name of Motoko, walked up to Moriyama and tugged on his hakama.

“Uncle Moriyama, can Kaya play?” Motoko asked the Raen with her little girl voice.

“I don’t think so, sweetheart. It’s getting late and I’m sure your mommy wants to put you to bed soon. You two can play tomorrow, though! I even got you two some new toys,” Moriyama replied with a soft tone of voice as he dropped down to a squat so he was eye level with the little girl. “But you need to be a good girl and listen to your mom.”

Almost as if on queue, two women stepped out onto the wrap-around patio. The two women, clearly twin sisters, were conversing quietly amongst themselves, one of them carrying a newborn infant. Moriyama smiled when he saw his wife and son, a feeling of pride blooming in his heart. It brought him much joy to see his family coexisting with his best friend’s family. Finally, after so many hard years, things were finally starting to look up for the Mitsurugi clan and its retainers.

“Oh no,” Kanzan let out, his eyes wide with panic. “The other clans. They’re here. They’re coming to kill my family!”

Moriyama’s smile faded and his mind switched into high gear. He first looked at his wife and son, then down at his goddaughter and over at his sister in law. His eyes then fell on his best friend, the man he would gladly die for.

“Go,” Moriyama told them all. “Get your things and leave out the back gate.”

“There’s no way in hell we’re going to leave you behind!” Murai, Moriyama’s wife told him, in no way shape or form taking no for an answer. “We can all escape together!”

“No, you all must go. Take the guards with you. I’ll hold them off long enough for you all to get away.”

“We’re not leaving you behind!” Kanzan added, walking over to his friend. “I’m not going to let you throw your life away so recklessly.”

“Kanzan,” Moriyama said, placing a hand on his friend’s cheek. “You are the future for our people. I would gladly fight to my last breath to ensure and our country survive. Nothing you can say will change my mind, so please, get your things and leave.”

There was pain behind Moriyama’s words. Tears began to form in his eyes as he looked at his friend, then to his wife and son. He shifted his hand from Kanzan’s cheek to his shoulder and gave it a firm squeeze before approaching his wife. The two embraced each other, saying nothing as they pressed their foreheads together, gazing into each other’s eyes.

“Murai, my love, take Takeshi and go while there’s still time. I know this is hard, but it’s what’s best for our children. Please,” Moriyama begged his wife as tears flowed down her cheeks. “Go. Live a long and happy life in a unified Hingashi.”

Kanzan took one look over at his friend and ran back into the house. The others looked at where he had vanished into, waiting to see what he went to grab. After a few minutes he flew out of the estate, a sword in hand. He approached Moriyama, holding the sword out for him to take.

“Moriyama Hirata, as future emperor of Hingashi, I hereby dub you the title of Hingashi no Kami, chief of Kugane. Your sworn duty is to protect me and my countryman. Do you accept?”

“I do,” Moriyama said without an ounce of hesitation and reached out to take the offered sword.

The weapon had a hefty weight to it, a sign that it was not a simple katana like Moriyama expected. He drew the blade and looked at it with amazement. His eyes started at the tip of the sword and trailed all the way down the blade, which was a touch wider than most katana and made with an edge meant only to dismember. Engraved on the base of the blade were the words, “I belong to the warrior in who the old ways join the new.”

“What does that inscription mean? What are the new ways?” Moriyama asked his friend, looking over at Kanzan.

“Peace, that’s the new way. You have always been an advocate for peace, going as far as to carry a blunted katana. It is through your sacrifice that Hingashi will flourish. I had planned on giving that sword to you for birthday, but I decided today was a better time. I hope this blade serves you well, old friend.”

And without another word, Kanzan gripped his friend by the shoulders and briefly gazed into his eyes, memorizing the features of his oldest and greatest friend. A brief moment of silence fell over the group as the two men said their silent goodbyes. Kazan eventually released his friend and rushed toward the estate, motioning for the two people and their children to follow. Moriyama watched as his family ran off, knowing that this would be the last time he’d see them.

The two guards at the front gate rushed past Moriyama, having overheard the group’s conversation and gave him a gentle nod of their heads as a sign of respect for what he was about to do. He sheathed his sword and casually approached the front gate. Off in the distance a sea of torches could be seen bobbing up and down, a clear sign that they were working on borrowed time. All Moriyama needed to do was delay them long enough for the Mitsurugi clan to escape the estate and eventually fleeing the region by boat.

The future of his family and country solely depended on them surviving this night. It was their destiny to unite Hingashi and put an end to this nigh endless war. Their destiny led out in the future, Moriyama’s destiny ended here, at this moment, for this singular purpose.

Moriyama took a deep breath and lowered himself down to a sitting position. He tucked his legs under himself and sat with his back straight, sword resting sheathed on his lap. His eyes drifted closed while he tried to ground himself and banished the fear and uncertainty from his mind. A gentle calm washed over him, allowing him one final moment of relaxation before the fight was brought to him.

Several minutes later and Moriyama could hear the beating of horse hooves on the roadway. His eyes slowly slid back open and he gazed at the small army approaching. He then rose to his feet, letting his left hand come to rest on the scabbard of his newly gifted sword. It had been many years since Moriyama had to use a weapon, having relied on his words for the most part. He was a man of peace, after all.

Eventually the opposing forces arrived at the gate, lead by a group of armored men. They wordlessly hopped off their mounts and approached Moriyama. One of them drew his katana and held the blade close, the tip pointing up to the night sky.

“Let us through or die,” the armed warrior said while he dropped down to a low, wide stance.

“Hello to you too,” Moriyama said with a light bow of his head, eyes never leaving the armed man. “My name is Moriyama Hirata, sworn guardian of Kanzan Mitsurugi. It is my duty to protect my lord and I will do so with joy in my heart. Please, lay down your arms and join us as brothers. A unified Hingashi is a possible, achievable goal! Imagine that, peace in our time!”

“I don’t care. Let us through or die,” the armed warrior demanded as he started to advance forward.

“Please, gentlemen, we don’t have to fight anymore! Don’t you see what’s happening? Hingashi is about to be united for the first time in almost a thousand years! Peace! Please don’t do this. I don’t want to hurt you or your men,” Moriyama continued to plead.

The armed warrior said nothing more and instead shot forward, letting loose a mighty war cry. His blade was swiped down, only to have Moriyama simply step out of the way. He gripped the warrior’s forearms once he was in range, sweeping his feet out from under him and throwing the warrior to the ground. Moriyama took several steps back, hands up to defend himself.

“Please! I don’t want to hurt you! Stop this madness!”

Several of the men on horses dismounted, drawing their swords once they were on stable ground. Moriyama looked over at them, then at the now prone warrior. They all looked incredibly angry, the intention to spill blood hanging in the air. It was then that Moriyama realized that these men would not leave, even if they were facing an army themselves. They didn’t want the Mitsurugi clan to rule, they wanted their lord to rule. He knew the type of rulers they’d be and Moriyama wanted nothing to do with even the idea of someone else ruling over Hingashi.

(( Recommended listening: https://youtu.be/60FJDw9qcFk?si=RsFf83TYUQjyLZNdv ))

“So be it,” Moriyama said, his voice lowering and gaining an edge. “May the gods have mercy on our souls.”

The opposing warriors remained silent and approached with caution upon seeing the change in body language displayed by Moriyama. They watched as he eased his sheathed sword forward, right hand moving to rest on the hilt of the weapon.

Without warning all five of the warriors charged forward, each one drawing their sword as they ran. Moriyama drew his sword in a flash of sliver, catching the wrist of one attacker and stopping his sword. He then swiped his sword as he spun around, cutting clean, straight lines in the stomachs of the enemy warriors. They fell to the ground one after the other, each one trying in vain to keep their internal organs from spilling out on the ground. But, it was futile as the cuts were too long and too wide to simply hold shut. The attacking warriors would eventually die in the coming minutes, their lives tossed aside for nothing.

Moriyama was a sight to behold. His blade moved faster than the eye could see, blocking one sword here, and countering another there. He lashed out and kicked someone under chin, sending them sprawling backwards. As more men fell to the lone defender, their commanding officer was clearly annoyed with the delay. He snarled and dismounted his sword, drawing his sword as he did so. Two men wielding pikes also dismounted, following their commander closely, each one wearing menacing Oni masks.

More men went down with a single stroke of Moriyama’s sword. A small pile of corpses was beginning to arise around him, their blood intertwining with each other and becoming one. Faces frozen in agony or fear stared up at their killer, watch him as he cut down more of their friends and brothers. The army was growing restless and sick of watching their buddies die. The main fighting force advanced forward and boxed Moriyama in. They moved into surround him on all sides, all while he defended himself.

With a roar of anger, Moriyama lashed out with his sword. A jet of flame suddenly whooshed to life and consumed the blade, sending globs of molten fire in an arc, hitting everything in front of him. The men who were unfortunately unable to get out of the way of the fire were quickly consumed by the blaze. Their bodies went up in flames, their screams carrying out across the valley and into the night.

Moriyama quite literally shot forward, an ear shattering BOOM sounding off as he launched forward at the speed of sound. His sword was driven into the chest of one of the attackers, setting the man on fire. He screamed in agony as the blade was violently ripped out of his body, blood squirting out of the fresh wound. Another sonic boom rang out and another warrior was cut into three pieces. The lone defender moved from person to person, each one either getting zapped by lightning or being set ablaze with fire. Some men were unfortunately hit with gusts of freezing air, paralyzing them as the frostbite set in, turning their skin a lovely shade of black.

A ripple of energy shot from the tip of Moriyama’s sword as he swung it from left to write horizontally. The energy crackled with power as it flew through the air. It crashed into a wall of bodies, sending them sprawling backward. Their bodies convulsed on the ground as inhuman levels of electricity coursed throughout them, killing them slowly and painfully.

The lone defender continued to his defense of the estate. He knew by now that the two families would be safe and nowhere near the battle. If they were moving as fast as they were supposed to, they should be arriving at boat at this very second. Moriyama could only hope and pray that they made it out before the army showed up.

For now, all Moriyama could do was slow the army down. He continued his assault on the attackers, sending wave after wave of fire in their direction. He sent bolts of ice into the hearts of his enemies and bolts of lighting into their minds. For the first, and last time, Moriyama was actually fighting. He based the idea of having to kill someone, but this was the future of his people at stake.

“MITSURUGI BANZAI!” Moriyama shouted as he brought his sword down on one of the warriors, cutting him in two. The two halves took a couple steps away from each other and fell down, internal organs slowly sliding free from their skeletal prisons.

A cry of pain escaped the lone defender’s mouth as he was stabbed through the torso. He could feel the sword wedged into his body, the sharp point visible from his backside. The pain was unbelievable, feeling as if a fire had been set inside his chest. But this wouldn’t deter him from doing his duty. It was up to him and him alone to ensure the future of his people was a peaceful one. He wanted nothing more than to end this pointless bloodshed. It was time brothers stopped killing brothers and united together instead of against each other.

More men were quick to join the fray, only to end up dead on the side of the road. By now a good ten bodies had been stacked up on top of each other, having been vested by a single man.

Moriyama stood there gasping for air, his body on fire. The sword he had been impaled with was still lodged in his chest, joined by two stab wounds created with a pike’s blade. Sweat trickled down his face, intermingling with his own blood. One of his eyes was bruised, his nose bent and broken. While he did kill a number of men, they were also skilled warriors who wounded him in the process. Some managed to get off better blows than others, the pikemen being the biggest annoyance.

“Please,” Moriyama begged between taking in lungfuls of cool night air. “Don’t do this. There are children inside!”

“They’ll join their father then,” the commander said. He held out a hand, stopping the advance.

“Like hell they will!” Moriyama shouted as anger crept into his voice. “Fine then, let’s do this. You and me, right here, right now. I challenge you to a duel.”

The commanding officer snarled and reached up to his black Oni mask. He took it off and tossed it to the side, revealing a face only a mother could love. The commander’s face was a network of scars, some much older than others. His mouth was disfigured and pulled off to the side on the right side of his face, giving him a permanent sneer.

“I accept your terms,” the commander barked as he dropped down to a low stance, right hand hovering over the hilt of his sword.

Moriyama took a deep breath and sheathed his sword. He took up position directly across from the commander, mimicking his stance. The two men stood there for a couple minutes, each one waiting for the other to make the first move.

The commander was the first to attack. He prepared and drew his sword, drawing a crescent in front of him horizontally with his opening strike. Moriyama easily evaded the attack, stepping out of the way at the last second. He retorted with yet another single swipe of his sword, which was immediately sheathed upon finishing its arc. The commander stumbled forward a few feet before falling apart, literally cut in two. He groaned as the last of life left him, his blood pooling out of his body and creating a gross mixture of blood and dirt.

When the remaining forces saw their commanding officer die everyone lost their collective minds. All of a sudden they had no one to lead them and guide their anger, which has only grown stronger watching their commander and friends die. With no one to control the group, they all went inside. Several of them broke off and started attacking other houses in the area. Women and children screamed, the roar of fire heard off in the distance.

Moriyama’s face paled as twenty armed men all approached him at once. They drew their swords and pikes, tossing aside any scabbard that could get in the way. And without warning they all surged forward, lettting loose war cries forged in hell. Moriyama was quick to avoid one strike, cutting the head off one man while stepping out of the way of a separate attack. It didn’t matter how good of a swordsman he was, Moriyama was quickly outmatched.

One man leapt forward, swinging his sword in a diagonal slice and opening a fresh wound on Moriyama’s chest. He yelped in pain and dropped to his knees, finding it harder and harder to fight. It seemed that in his haste to defend the estate, he had lost a considerable amount of blood after being impaled. In fact, it was a miracle he was still alive.

“Kami smiles down at me,” Moriyama said, struggling to breathe. He coughed up a lungful of blood and slumped forward, letting more blood ooze out of his mouth. “Can you say the same?”

So, this was it. This was the end.

“Please,” Moriyama gasped as darkness started to close in on his vision. “For the good of Hingashi, stop… this… madness…”

It was then that Moriyama died, sword in hand. His body went limp and slumped forward before falling prone, his dark brown eyes gazing up at the stars, a smile frozen on his face. His duty was complete, the Mitsurugi clan was safe. His children were safe. Now he could finally rest. Rather than returning to the livestream, whatever was left of Moriyama’s aether entered the sword and remained there. The next time the blade was sheathed it wouldn’t open again for anyone but a member of the Hirata bloodline.

———

Yuki let out a surprised yelp and nearly dropped her sword mid-swing. She stared at the blade after experiencing what felt like someone’s last moments. The smell of fire and death clung to the back of her throat, the taste of blood lingering like a faint memory. The Raen looked up and then around her surroundings, seeing none but herself.

“What was that?” she asked herself, eyes never leaving the weapon. “Did you just show me what makes you special?”

Silence was her answer. She smiled at the idea of a sword talking back to her, a silly idea.

“So, if that was all real… Then that’s why no one but me and dad can use you! We are of your blood! Oh my gosh, I need to tell my dad right away! This is amazing!”

Yuki abandoned all hope of finishing her exercises now that she had a new mission. She gathered up her belongings, having set up under a large tree. Once her stuff was all gathered and put away in a canvas bag. With her gear in hand, Yuki began the walk home.

Her dad absolutely needed to hear the story of their family sword. Yuki even planned on telling her boss about this, knowing he would love to know the story of their common ancestors. This was big, big news for the loyal family.

At long last, the story of Moriyama’s sacrifice could be told.

[roadtogracelandx45]

The End| Supernatural|1|

masterlist

@ohnoitsthebat

crossposted on ao3 under the same name

01: Early 2014

Sioux Falls, South Dakota 

“El! Come on baby, we gotta get out of here!” Dean Winchester called up the stairs to his wife who was gathering what she could from the bedrooms up there, including her own room. “I am coming.’ She called back before tossing several bags down the stairs. They were trying to outrun the people who had been infected with the Croatoan virus and had stopped to get the rest of the weapons that Bobby had at the house. She finally appeared carrying a duffel on one shoulder and a knife in the other. 

“I found Uncle Bill’s knife.” Jo and Ellen had both been taken by the hellhounds months before and it had devastated her, they were the last two family members she talked to, hell after Jo almost got killed by HH Holmes, she stayed with her cousin in Chicago for a couple of months. They were close enough to be sisters . “And one of my dad’s I forgot I had.”  Her husband nodded his head and motioned for her to come down the stairs the rest of the way, everyone else had already gone on ahead and they were the last two leaving.  Ellie took one final glance around the house before exiting it and going to the pick up truck that they had just finished fixing up. “We will come back.” Dean said as they both got into the cab. 

“There’s no reason too. We are the only ones left. Bobby’s gone. Sam is god knows where. It’s just you and me.” She frowned, don’t get her wrong she loved Dean and had since she was 13 years old but this Dean was rougher and angier.  Much like how he had been when John died. This Dean, she would have to learn to handle, if she could. After her uncle Bill died, Ellen set her to live with Bobby,  this is house is the one that she came back too everyday after her after school activities, this was where she realized that she had fallen in love with Dean, where she lost her virginity to him in a back of truck much like the one they were in right now. She had given him every bit of her and it was never returned. Releasing a quiet sigh, Ellie shifted her position so she could rest her elbow on the door and look out of the window. 

The last parting words that Sam had said to her were still  ringing in her head, she, Dean, Cas and several others were fleeing the bloody scene and he had called out to her. Not to his brother or to Cas, but her, “Following him blindly Eleanor, will just make your heart break more.”  Cas, who had been holding onto her arm pulling her down the stairs with him, was surprised when she stopped walking and turned to go back up the stairs to confront Sam, like she had wanted to do for years. 

Since Dean stopped at her apartment in Chicago after Blackridge's job and begged her to come with them. Not only to patch them up but to be a third eye on hunts and alot of the time Sam treated her like shit. Not caring about her feelings or the relationship between his brother and her.  He was still hurting from Jess’s death and treated Ellie like she was like the piece of gum that got stuck to his shoe right before he lost it down the drain. Cas had gripped her arm and hauled her up the stairs, telling her not to listen to Sam. “He is going to try and get to Dean through you.’ Cas had told her repeatedly on the way back to Bobby’s house. And for the most part Ellie knew that was the plan, she was the only other person in the world that meant something to Dean Winchester. And that meant demons had tried, and the angels had tried to get to Dean through her and they all failed and in most cases spectacularly. 

“What’s wrong?” Dean’s voice asked, shaking her out of her thoughts. He only asked her things like that when he knew she was upset and getting her to scream and yell about it was the only way that she would be okay again. But this time, she was silent, the muscle in her cheek flexing every now and again almost like she had been when he left her for Lisa.

 “Nothing.” She finally said, barely glancing at him. ‘Bullshit, El, something is wrong.”  He could almost see the wheels turning in her head before she finally spoke, “I don’t think we should have left Sam.” “Eleanor.” He started, “He chose to be Lucifer’s meat suit.” “And you could have been Michael’s.” She returned twisting away from the window to look him in the eye. “You wanted me to be his meat suit?” 

He was ludacris, his Ellie would never have let him do that, she fought as hard as against as he did. “No, I think what happened the last few weeks leading up to that day changed Sammy’s mind. We changed his mind.” “What the hell are you talking about?’ “You know goddamn well what I am talking about, Dean.” There was the spark of anger that he had been expecting from her, something that had been missing the last year or so.

“We were warned about this. Cas warned us, Anna warned us, hell even that prick Jeremiah told us what would happen if you didn’t take Michael up on his offer. This is our fault. It is our fault that Bobby’s dead, that Jo and Aunt Ellen are dead. Its our fault that this is happening.” 

Dean jerked the wheel quickly veering the truck onto the dirt embankment.

”Damn it Dean!’ She swore as she quickly reached her hand out to grab onto the dash. “You are seriously putting the blame on us?” “Think about it, look at what we have done so all three of us could be together. What you and Sam have done to stay together. What we have done to stay together. What Cas has done. We are pretty fucking selfish.”

“So what? God is one that keeps changing things for us. We have done what we needed too to survive, and you shouldn’t be blaming us for it. God and his minions are the ones to blame for this.”  His fingertips reached and touched her cheek, almost grateful that she didn’t flitch away again.

“We should get going, we don’t want to worry anyone. They will need their fearless leader.” Dean hated that nickname, hated that he had to take on this role. But in a fucked up way, Ellie was right, they were fucking selfish. And it was only a matter of time that drove them apart.

[loki-is-my-god-of-mischief]

Just One of Those Moments (Sirius x Male!Reader)

"HAPPY BIRTHDAY HARRY!!!" Everyone gathered in the Burrow shouted. The birthday boy himself pretending to act surprised. (Y/N) smiles as everyone gives him a hug then insists he open their present first. The atmosphere soon gets too stifling in there and he excuses himself for some much needed air.

As soon as he's outside, he lights up a cigarette and takes a deep drag. Then looks up toward the stars as they help him calm. "You shouldn't smoke you know. It's not good for you." (Y/N) doesn't even turn at the sound of the familiar voice.

"As if that's going to help me now."

"We know how you feel, but you are just causing yourself unnecessary damage." A new voice answers him instead.

"So." He responds.

A different voice again, female this time "Please, stop with this unhealthy attitude" the voice begs.

"Harry needs you." Another voice. Male again, and very familiar. This causes him to finally turn and face them. He looks at each owner of the voices and decide to answer them each in order. He turns towards a handsome man with black wavy hair that reached his shoulders. Sirius. "You used to go through three packets a day, you can't talk." Then turns toward a tawny haired male with hazel eyes and scars across his face. Remus. "It's not like the damage matters." He then turns toward his favourite red head. "I'm sorry Lils, I can't." Finally, he turns towards the last voice. His brother, James Potter. "No, he doesn't."

The flat way he spoke that must have struck a chord with James as he suddenly starts shouting at him. " Of course, he does, you’re his uncle. The only family who survived." At this James pauses then continues on in a much more sad and desperate tone "You’re all he has." At the tone, (Y/N) turns away from them.

"He doesn't. Harry has everyone he will ever need, right inside that house. Not me. I-"

"Don't be stupid! Of course, I need you." (Y/N) turns to see Harry stood right behind him.

"What are-"

"You were taking a while; I came to see if you were all right. You shouldn't be out here on your own." As he said this, (Y/N) and the marauders share an amused look whilst Lily looks exasperated at us. "Who were you talking to anyway?"

"It doesn't matter."

"Please don't start lying to me." Harry says sounding slightly hurt. (Y/N) sighs and draws a breath to steady himself.

"Just a doe, a stag, a dog and a wolf."

It takes a few moments but Harry finally clicks with what he means. "What? But they're-"

"I know." He say resigned, he is a smart kid. He is going to figure it out.

"But that's not possible, the only way to do that is through the stone, which is lost, or you're-" He cuts himself off as he realises.

"Yeah, you got it. I'm sorry." (Y/N) says defeated.

"How?" At this question (Y/N) goes towards the porch and sits down, Harry following his example.

"Remember the year we met?" Harry looks confused as to why he chose to start there but goes along with it.

"Beginning of fifth year. The Order raided one of Voldie's lairs and found you in the dungeons. You were rescued, tested to see if you really were my uncle and then taken to Hogwarts to Madam Pomfrey."

"Yeah." (Y/N) shivers momentarily at the thought of those dungeons. "Remember the Department of Mysteries?"

"How could I forget." Harry says with a bit of bitterness in his tone.

"Right, sorry. When Sirius fell into...yeah. I ran after him, like you tried. I was stopped by my old mentor Alastor, but not before I touched it. The veil."

______________________________________________________________

Flashback (Reader's POV as in he is telling the story to Harry)

The whole room was filled with the sounds of Order members and Death Eaters battling. I was protecting the children from stray spells when I heard something unusual. "Nice one James!" I turn and see Sirius and Harry fighting Lucius. No Pads! Harry. Prongs isn't here. It's Harry.

I noticed that Harry caught the slip and momentarily stopped fighting, Sirius was too busy trying to take down Lucius to notice. He cast one last spell with a fancy flick of his wrist and disarmed Lucius. I was relieved, they were both okay. He blasted Lucius away and I smirked towards them. The smirk dropped when out of nowhere Sirius was struck with the dreaded green spell. No.

I watched him fall. Fall backwards into the veil to never return. All was silent in those moments, the world still. "SIRIUS!!!" I charged towards the veil, no he can't be gone, no. "SIRIUS!!!" I'm reaching for the veil, almost there. Almost to Sirius. My hand enters the veil when I'm grabbed and pulled away. I look back to see Alastor.

"I'm sorry lad. But we are not losing you too."

Flashback End (POV end too)

______________________________________________________________

Both Harry and (Y/N) take a few minutes to compose themselves enough to continue the conversation. "When my hand entered the veil, it attached itself to my soul in a way. It's eating it, bit by bit."

"You're dying." Harry says with so much finality, as if he knows there is nothing to be done.

"Yeah. It was a couple of days after my release from the hospital wing that I saw James, Lily and Sirius. I thought I was going mad."

"I thought you already were." Harry joked, successfully breaking the tension. Everyone laughed, even the Marauders to which (Y/N) shot them a joking glare.

"It wasn't until after the war that I saw Remus, for obvious reasons. I also see Fred too whenever I'm in the same area as George. Even in death, they are inseparable."

"How long?" Harry asks after a short comfortable silence.

"What?"

"How long until you...you know." He makes the gesture of a finger crossing his throat.

"Oh! A few months. Mediwitches and wizards say there is nothing they can do as they don't understand the veil." (Y/N) stares at the sky with a sad look. Harry gets up off the porch and rubs of imaginary dirt from his pants. He then turns towards (Y/N) and holds out his hand.

"Well come on then!"

"What?"

"We still have a few months left so let's make them count. I know you're excited to go walk off into the afterlife hand in hand with Sirius but this is our time now." This comment causes (Y/N) to go bright red, Lily to smile at the fact Harry acknowledged his uncle’s crush, Remus to laugh behind his hand and Sirius to smirk in his direction until James storms over to have a stern talking to about the rules of dating his brother.

"I am not!"

"Are too." Lily and Harry say at the same time causing (Y/N) to smile. Like Mother like Son, he thinks that muggle saying goes.

"Whatever. Let's just have a good time huh?"

"Yeah." Harry replies more upset than a few minutes ago.

"What's up? You know...apart from the obvious."

"I just wish there was something we could do."

"It's just one of those moments Harry."

[stetervault]

Hiii! Been delving into Steter now, in the year of our lord 2021, even though I never really did when I was active in the fandom years ago and I was wondering if you'd have some longfic recs for the ship? Like, fics that are Classics(TM)? But happy endings! And I'm not super into those in which Stiles is still underage 😬 do u have any recs? Thanks!

Welcome to the Steter fandom! I definitely have some long fics to rec, some of them are super old lol, and I'll stick to ones around 20k or over, and most of them are finished. And hmm, considering the ship, and a lot of fics like to start off in season 1 where Stiles is still technically a teenager, I'll try to limit these to ones with Stiles being at least 16/17 before anything starts happening, and only 18+ if there's explicit content. I hope that's okay.

drowning in the sea of you by Corpium

Beacon Hills was perfect for Stiles growing up, but now, with werewolves, hunters, and an anxious best friend running around, it's turning into a place too chaotic for an empath like Stiles to handle alone. And pain killers can only go so far.

Wake Me Up by ToAStranger

Stiles has been in a coma for six years. Now he's awake.

Tremors by Corpium

(Stiles has a taste for him now. All Peter needs to do is wait.)

Surviving Peter and the Zombie Apocalypse by Nopennamesleft

Its the end of the world and Stiles has run out of luck. He saves a werewolf from certain death. Will they begin to rely on each other to survive or will the wolf just eat Stiles for a midnight snack?

Bite Down by EclipseWing

In which Stiles is forced to survive the zombie apocalypse with a sociopathic murdering werewolf for company.

as you are by veterization

Stiles runs straight into a tree and suddenly, things are... different. Namely, he's in a world where Peter Hale is his boyfriend.

Call My Name by KouriArashi

After moving to Beacon Hills, Stiles starts having recurring dreams of a man in some kind of prison, who needs his help. Things get so bad that he ends up in Eichen House, where he finds out that the man is real.

Devil of Mercy by KouriArashi

Peter's heard people talk about what it felt like when they saw their mate for the first time, from those who actually believe in the mystical bullshit. Like a magnet, like gravity. Peter just feels... sharply curious.

Whiskey is My Kind of Lullaby by taylorpotato

Peter is a simple saloon owner on one of the outer planets between the Aaru Belt and the Olympus Galaxy. He’s done with trouble. Done with adventure. So fucking done with rustlers. That is, until a cute young outlaw named Stiles wanders into his bar. Peter has this problem where he can’t seem to resist charming narcissists (perhaps because they remind him of himself). And when said narcissists turn his life upside-down, the worst part is he’s not even that upset about it.

Proposing To Strangers by moonstalker24

At the end of a strained relationship, crime novelist Stiles chooses to hide from the world inside a bar with far too many motorcycles outside it for comfort. Here he'll meet the man of his dreams, eat food and propose marriage, all within the first five minutes.

Peter doesn't know who this kid is, but he's cute and looks like he could use a break. So he feeds him. He's not expecting a marriage proposal, but with what comes after, he doesn't really mind.

Stiles Stilinski, Disaster Chef by Guede

The zombie apocalypse forces Stiles to learn how to cook.

The Will by Guede

We are gathered here today for the reading of Gerard Argent’s will.

On the Importance of Lunar Influences in Gardening by Guede

“Oh, it’s you again,” Stiles sighs. He puts down his basket and drops the bunch of onions into it, and then dusts off his hands. “Can’t you get your own strawberries? I mean, I have it on good authority that wild strawberries? They’re a thing. They exist. They’re out there.”

“But Stiles,” says the werewolf dangling by one foot from the tree, sticky red smears around his mouth and all over his fingers. “Your berries are so juicy, so ripe. Those ones in the woods are mere passing indulgences compared to the royal feast you have in your garden.”

Genii loci Stiles and his father run a community garden, and it’s all good, except for the werewolf who keeps sneaking over the fence to raid Stiles’ strawberry patch (and the hunter who’s constantly hanging around his father).

Runes and all kinds of things by FeelingsDusk (WIP)

Enough is enough. Stiles is tired of being always a last choice when he always tries to do his best for his precious people, so they better get their act together or face being left behind.

OR

The things in the Argent's basement get nearly fatal, the Sheriff finds about the supernatural, Allison can have a wicked, wicked mind and Peter Hale appears to be everywhere.

Oh, and Stiles can't seem to stop breaking the laws of physics with his magic.

Sanctuary by DiscontentedWinter

The Hale Wolf Sanctuary isn’t just for wolves.

It turns out it’s for Stilinskis as well.

Out Of The East, Never See The Sun Rise by neglectedtuesday

In the beginning, there are three absolutes.

One. Stiles is a god, forged of starlight and collapsing galaxies and he is eternal.

Two. Peter is human, fragile bone and viscous blood and he is temporary.

Three. Stiles and Peter are in love; love that claws its way inside one’s heart like fish hooks; all encompassing love that is beautiful but dangerous.

Stiles is a god. Peter is human. They love each other.

Three absolutes.

You Had Me at Canapes by LadyArinn

Stiles doesn't mean to sneak into the Hale wedding, and he certainly doesn't mean to have cliche coat-room sex with the bride's uncle, but what had happened, happened, and it wasn't like he could just leave. At least, not until he got to have some of that cake.

Infinite Space by DiscontentedWinter

Stiles needs Peter's expertise to help stop the latest threat to Beacon Hills. And, as the pack falls apart around him, he might even need Peter for more than that.

Hook, Yarn, Sinker by pprfaith

Stiles is happy with his store, his hobbies, his friends. Peter's just trying to figure out how to raise his nieces and nephew without fucking them up too badly.

Paths cross.

Open Wounds by Guede

Talia got out of the fire with Peter, but everyone else died. Years later, they’re still struggling with injuries, but they’ve at least settled in with oddball werewolf Stiles. And then other werewolves start showing up. Familiar ones.

Bittersweet Creek by Guede

When Stiles finally steps off the westward trail to California, he’s the last of his pack. He starts building a den, but then he finds a dying man next to a burnt-down house and it turns out he’s not really much of a settler, after all.

For Great Justice! by Green

Stiles is a vengeance demon, drawn to Peter just as he's waking from his catatonia.

"Whoever did this? We will make those fuckers suffer. I promise you."

Bone Deep by ShippersList

A body in the woods, a mate, and a long-awaited revenge.

Peter had no idea how his life would change when he followed the strange pull in his chest.

Love What is Behind You by KouriArashi

Basically what it says on the label. Hunger Games type fusion. Stiles doing way better than anyone anticipates. Peter finds him intriguing. Ruthless, devious assholes working together to ruin bad guys, as the Steter ship is meant to be.

Soothing the Burn by Therapeutic_Steter (WIP)

Peter is burnt out and breaking down. Stiles notices and offers him solace, along with the one thing he wants most: Pack.

Til Death by Bunnywest

“How long do we have to find him someone?” Stiles asks. “Two weeks,” says Derek, eyebrows pulling down even further. The fierceness of his expression tells Stiles just how concerned he is. “He marries, or he goes to the camps. And you know what your father told us,” Scott reminds her. The camps……aren’t camps. Peter either finds a wife, or he dies.

Ink Blossoms by Triangulum

"So, you're going to ruin your niece's baby shower with flowers in the wrong color?" the florist, Stiles, asks when they reach the counter. He pulls out a binder and starts flipping through it.

"Not ruin. Mildly inconvenience," Peter says.

"Right, messing with a hormonal pregnant woman seems like a great plan."

"To be fair, her fiance and the father of her baby is my ex-boyfriend," Peter says. "And we weren't broken up when they started 'dating'."

Stiles looks up at him in surprise. "And you're still getting her flowers?" he asks.

"It's under duress, I assure you," Peter says. He absolutely wouldn't be here if his alpha hadn't ordered it.

"Well, shit, yeah, let's get you some purple revenge flowers," Stiles says.

After You by FlyAwayMeow (rjaejoo)

It’s true that sometimes what you want the most, you can’t have and that you’ll miss what you once had all along when it’s finally gone.

After breaking his engagement to Chris, Peter heads to New York to start over. He meets Stiles, a young author at his publishing house who helps him piece his confidence back together. When tragedy strikes, he discovers how to finally let go of his past and have the family and future he's always wanted with the pieces already in his life.

love me lights out by veterization

Stiles and Peter get snowed in together. (Or: what happens when you accept phone calls from people you haven't spoken to in over five years.)

Uncle Peter Doesn't Date by Mellow (SweetCandy) (WIP)

“Oh don’t lie, you love it.” Peter purred and winked at his newest arm candy, who spluttered for a few seconds, before blushing like a 16 year old virgin. Considering how young he looked Laura wouldn’t be surprised if he was actually 16. “Shut up Peter!” Bambi squeaked, still flushing and averting Laura’s eyes. “Well, anyways, I’m,” ‘Bambi’. “Stiles. Stiles Stilinski, pleasure to meet you- again.” Stiles smiled sheepishly, obviously nervous. Stiles Stilinski. Definitely a stripper then.

-

Or: Laura was prepared for whatever piece of armcandy her uncle had decided to show up with, what she hadn't been prepared for was Stiles Stilinski...her uncle's boyfriend.

Under the Songbird’s Wing by mia6363

Captivity easily destroys the will of escape. It can break the fiercest of animal. It can strip the most regal man and woman down to nothing but animal needs.

Captivity can, if met with unwavering determination, shape a person into something unimaginable.

Stiles is sixteen when he's captured. Stiles's first thought is, "I won't die here."

Baby Whisperer by twothumbsandnostakeincanon (somanyofthekids)

“What. Is that.”

Scott looked up at him, apprehensive.

“Her name’s Lily.”

Stiles stared at the fuzzy head peeking out of the papoose.

“Her. Her name. That is a real live human baby. Oh my God-”

“Actually I don’t know if she’s human?” Scott said with a confused frown. “Becca didn’t say.”

“Who the fuck is Becca?!”

Sacrificial Lamb by Bunnywest

The Alpha has a scruffy beard, unkempt hair and dazzling blue eyes. The scar on his face is raised, running down his cheek like a twisting, gnarled rope. Stiles knows that it came from the blade of Kate Argent herself, and that the Alpha got it fighting in the battle where Kate killed his lover, cutting his head clean from his neck, if the stories are to be believed.

The Alpha lets Stiles look his fill, before indicating that Stiles should take the other couch, and Stiles does so, his father’s words echoing in his ears. He can do this, can be pleasant and amenable. The lives of his people may depend on it. The Alpha spends long moments surveying him, before saying, “I like you, Stiles.”

You don’t know me, Stiles wants to blurt out, but he bites his tongue.

The Various Triumphs of Mischief Bilinski by Whispering_Sumire (WIP)

"Hello, Chris," sings a honeyed voice from behind.

Chris' attention snaps toward the intruder, his gun already out of its' holster and aimed at whoever it is — a boy, apparently, with braided russet hair, a red jacket, and wise eyes. He's wearing a gas mask, but Chris can tell by the way his eyes crinkle around the edges, the way sun-burnt sand swirls in his irises, that he's smiling.

Chris cocks his gun.

"You killed my father," he says.

"No offence, but he totally deserved it," the stranger agrees with cheerful solemnity.

"What the hell are you doing in my home?" Chris demands. The kid is perched on a windowsill in Chris' office, as nonchalantly as if this were something he did every day, as if they were familiar.

"I was just wondering," the kid speaks softly, fond amusement sewn through with a peculiar resignation, "how you'd feel about putting down some nazis?"

[Or: The one where Stiles goes back in time and subsequently fucks with everything.]

A Curious Magic by Triangulum

Overall, Stiles is very well-known in the supernatural community. It’d be hard not to be, not with how his reputation has grown like wildfire. He knows and is on good terms with nearly all the fae that reside in the preserve, the asrai that live deep in the lake, the Ito pack, the vampire couple that lives over in Beacon Valley (they buy an ethically-sourced food supply from Stiles), as well as almost every other supernatural entity in the area. But Talia Hale doesn’t like him, and a werewolf pack tends to do what their alpha tells them to.

So it’s a definite surprise when the wards at the edge of his property trip, the tingling down his spine telling him it’s a werewolf, the lack of burning sensation letting him know there’s no hostile intent. Stiles, in his office in the second floor turret, sets down the amulet he’s packing up for Marin and moves to the large window overlooking the front of his property. He’s expecting to see an Ito packmember, even though they nearly always call in advance, and is surprised to see a man that he recognizes as Talia’s brother, Peter.

Light in the Dark by cywscross

It still surprises Stiles sometimes, how easily he’s adapted. Seven months in a world filled with train tracks and soul-sucking fae, and it feels like he’s never known anything else.

~~

Or, the one where diverting the Ghost Riders from Beacon Hills to prey on a different town only succeeded in setting them free.

Vengeance Looks Good On You, Sweetheart by cywscross

Just because Scott refuses to see the Argents for what they truly are - prejudiced serial killers sitting proudly on a mountain of innocent corpses - doesn't mean Stiles will. It's about time someone did something about the Argent Empire anyway, and what a coincidence - summer vacation is just around the corner.

--

Or, the one where Gerard Argent kidnapped the wrong fucking person to torture. Stiles has never subscribed to the policy of forgiving and forgetting anyway, not when razing the problem to the ground and salting the earth for good measure has always been a far better solution in the long run.

He doesn't expect to have company.

[griffintail]

One Last Time

Summary: (Y/N) goes to live with her Uncle Tubbo in the aftermath of their lose.

Pairings: Parental! Tommy x Teenage! F!Reader

Platonic! Ranboo, Tubbo x Teenage! F!Reader

Warnings: Angst, Mentions of Death, Mentions of Exile, Everyone’s just sad man.

This the second part to True One

The next part is A Normal Smile

A/N: Two different people wanted this,  🐝 anon and @samistheidiot​ So, here you guys go! 

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

        (Y/N)…wished it was a nightmare, that Tommy would shake her awake like she’d done many times before for him when he’d have a nightmare.

        Instead, there she stood in Snowchester, staring at her Uncle Tubbo’s house. He’d grabbed her things from…Tommy’s house and brought her back to his own home. Tubbo had found her with Sam and had broken down with her this time. She tried to deny everything Sam was telling her, what she saw on her walkie. Yet, when Tubbo pulled her in and held her close, she knew it was real this time.

        He wasn’t coming back.

        It took hours to finally get (Y/N) out of the hotel and into a boat with Tubbo. When she had first exhausted herself, Tubbo had a serious conversation with Sam. Tubbo knew what Tommy always wanted for his little girl. He’d been there through many steps of their lives, so he knew what Tommy would have wanted now. (Y/N) would come with him.

        Sam wanted to argue that he could take care of her but…he didn’t have faith in himself anymore and agreed it was best.

        Tubbo stood at the door, looking back at (Y/N), who hadn’t spoken since they left the hotel room.

        “(Y/N).” He called gently, her dull gaze looking at him now, making his throat tighten. “Come inside, let’s get warm.”

        She sighed, following him. She went back to the room she had been in when…

        Tears welled in her eyes as she sat on the bed. He was supposed to come to get her; they were supposed to have been celebrating. She buried her face in her hands as Tubbo was putting down his things in the main room, still trying to process his own feelings.

        He was in full denial.

        Tommy shouldn’t have gone like that. In the prison, beaten to death…Tommy shouldn’t have gone at all. Not his best friend. Tommy just had to be alive, he just had to, just like last time! He still had a daughter to raise!

        …but Tubbo knew he was wrong deep down.

        “Tubbo!” Ranboo burst into his home, out of breath.

        Ranboo had gotten the same message as everyone else. He had gone all the way from his base at Techno’s to see Tubbo first.

        “Hey, Ranboo.” He said quietly. “I guess you saw.”

        “I-I did. It’s wrong, right? There’s no way…” Ranboo tried to deny himself.

        “…Sam said it’s real.” Tubbo gripped his hands along the edges of a chest. “That Dream and Tommy were fighting and then…they were actually fighting…”

        “No…No that can’t be right. Sam should have…Dream wouldn’t have…”

        “What do you mean Dream wouldn’t have?” (Y/N) spat as she came into the room. “Dream was a fucking psychopath! We all knew that! Yet we let my fucking father stay in the godforsaken prison cell with him! After all the shit he’s put my family through! WE LEFT TOMMY IN THERE!”

        “(Y/N).” Tubbo took a step towards her.

        “No, I don’t have time for this shit. It’s just like exile.” (Y/N) scoffed, putting her hands in her pockets as she walked back to her room, slamming the door.

        Tubbo was frozen in his spot as tears gathered in his eyes, (Y/N)’s old words screaming in his head.

        It’s your fault!

        Ranboo looked at his friend before quickly following after the girl knocking on the door.

        “Go away!” She shouted.

        “No, I won’t. That wasn’t fair. We’ve all lost someone today.”

        (Y/N) boiled in her room as she stormed to the door and threw it open, tears stuck in her eyes.

        “Yeah? Well, guess what? Life isn’t really fucking fair now is it?” Her shoulders were shaking in anger. “You know what my dad was doing at my age? He was fighting in a god damn war for a country that doesn’t even exist anymore! He lost two lives to a green fucking bastard. And now, he’s lost a third because no one listens when someone screams for help.”

        Ranboo stood there in shock as she stared at him.

        “You can’t tell me what’s fair. I watched my dad go through trial after trial. So, I mean this in the nicest way possible, fuck off.”

        She closed the door again and locked it before sliding her back down against the door as she sat on the floor, letting her tears flow again as she was in privacy. It was going to be a long day…

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

        Tubbo and Ranboo let her have her privacy. Ranboo had decided he’d stay for a while as he figured his friend would need all the help he could get as he was grieving and also now had a grieving teenager living with him. The two didn’t see (Y/N) the rest of the day and the next morning came.

        (Y/N) woke up from her spot on the floor trying to clear her mind and remember what happened. She wished she hadn’t as she pulled her legs up and hugged them with one arm and her other hand lightly gripped onto her bandana. Her thoughts went wild in the early morning light.

        She didn’t have anything of her father’s. His gear would all be in the prison and she refused to ever be near that place again. The more important thing was the discs; she couldn’t ever get those. They were in Tommy’s ender chest. She’d never hear them again, not that she wanted to without Tommy…

        If the adults had just listened to her, let her storm that building when she had the chance…!

        It was her fault too…

        No, none of this was her fault, it was the adults that wouldn’t listen!...

        She held her head as her thoughts were scrambled in anger at herself and anger at others. She thought she was supposed to be sad but she was just…angry. Angry at Sam, Tubbo, Ranboo, Dream.

        She remembered being angry when she thought her father was originally dead. Tubbo had been the primary target of her anger because he was Uncle Tubbo but he never listened to her anymore. He did a lot to reconcile with her over after everything was said and done, Tommy helping his best friend do so, wanting his daughter and friend to see each other as a family once again.

        She felt guilt now for what she said the day before. She shouldn’t have brought up exile, Tubbo regretted it every day and tried so hard to reconnect with the two of them.

        “(Y/N)?” Tubbo knocked on her door.

        She didn’t move.

        “(Y/N), this is my house, I have a key.”

        “So?” She muttered.

        “Please open the door.”

        “Shouldn’t you be angry?” She asked instead.

        “Why?” Tubbo questioned, confused.

        “…I brought that time up.”

        Tubbo felt his heart pound a little harder before he took a deep breath. “Can I come in please?”

        She huffed, but got up slowly and opened the door, Tubbo standing there with a plate of food and water. He came in, putting the plate and cup down on the nightstand as (Y/N) sat on the bed. Tubbo sat next to her, connecting his hands as he looked down at them.

        “I know…I messed up back then. Things might have been different if I had listened to you like I was supposed to. I was supposed to take care of you for…for Tommy.” His breath shook. “I failed…in a lot of different ways with a lot of different things. I tried to make it all better after. When he got stuck in the prison, I didn’t tell you,” Tubbo looked at her with tears in his eyes, “but I went to Sam privately demanding to know why he wouldn’t let Tommy out. I was trying to make sure I did it right this time. I wouldn’t let this be exile.”

        (Y/N)’s guilt piled on her as tears welled in her eyes. Tubbo put an arm around her shoulder before pulling her into a hug as he put his head on top of hers.

        “I don’t know what happened in there but I promise you, I will find out,” Tubbo promised with his whole heart. “For myself, you, and Tommy, I’ll figure out what happened.”

        “I’m sorry Uncle Tubbo.” She cried on him now.

        “It’s alright. I’m angry at everything too.” He muttered. “But we’ll figure it out.”

        He let her cry it all out on him as he let a few of his own tears drip before making sure she ate and drank.

        “I’m not going to force you to do anything,” Tubbo told her as he took the half-eaten plate. “I’ll be here though if you need anything.”

        “…Uncle Tubbo?”

        He stopped at the door, looking at her.

        “I want to make a memorial for dad.” She whispered.

        His whole body softens as he thought before nodding. “Ok, we can do that. Get dressed and we’ll go work on it now.”

        Tubbo went out with (Y/N), letting Ranboo know what they were doing and the hybrid let them have their moment. Tubbo built a wooden headstone as (Y/N) gathered a few flowers and paused in her work before she got a jukebox to rest next to the headstone. As the last piece of their exhausting work, they made a bench together and both hesitated.

        “I’m…I got a disc, hang on.” He muttered.

        He went back inside to get a disc as (Y/N) stood there, staring at the memorial they had built, cobblestone outlining the area. Tubbo came back, turning a disc in his hand.

        “It’s…not one of his. But I know he’ll appreciate it where ever he is.”

        He put the disc on and stepped back. He motioned to the bench as the music started to play. (Y/N) couldn’t even produce tears as she sat in the middle of the bench, Tubbo on her left. They both stared at the words Tubbo had carved into the wood before (Y/N) spoke.

        “You remember that play he loved?” (Y/N) muttered.

        “Yeah, Hamilton. He managed us all tickets because said he couldn’t live with a daughter who hadn’t seen it.” Tubbo laughed quietly at the memory.

        “There’s a few words that keep playing in my head from one of the songs.” She looked at her hands. “And then we'll teach them how to say goodbye. …Dad never taught me how to say goodbye…”

        “…Well, we’ll make this our last time with…Tommy…and we’ll learn to say goodbye together.”

        (Y/N) put her head on Tubbo’s shoulder and he hugged her close as the jukebox stopped playing.

        “And now it’s quiet uptown…” She mumbled.

        Tubbo couldn’t help a soft smile. Tommy loved that play and (Y/N) had adopted it onto herself, learning every single song just like him. She dozed off on Tubbo’s shoulder and he sat there like that for just a little longer.

        “I’ll make sure it’s not always quiet. I’ll take care of her Tommy. I promise.”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~  

        Days dragged on.

        Tubbo and Ranboo took turns making sure (Y/N) would eat and drink. It was three days before she left her room to walk around. When she was finally walking around again and eating full plates of food, Tubbo decided to start his investigation into Tommy’s death. He promised (Y/N) he’d figure it out and he would, for his, hers, and Tommy’s sake. This shouldn’t have happened and he’ll be damned if it goes unsolved.

        Ranboo was to stay with (Y/N) in Snowchester, just to be sure she’d be alright. He was waiting with breakfast in the morning, Tubbo having gone in the early, early morning, but there was no sign of the teenager after an hour of waiting. Getting up, Ranboo knocked on her door.

        “(Y/N)?” He called softly.

        He thought it was only fair if she was upset in her room. He was still processing the fact one of his friends was gone. There were small tracks of burn marks from when he had cried originally, his tears having run out now after the past few days. He couldn’t imagine though what (Y/N) must feel every day.

        “(Y/N), can you open the door?” He reached out again.

        She still gave him no answer and he sighed.

        “I got to come in, so freak out.”

        He opened the door and looked around the room. Instead, he was the one freaking out as he saw an empty room and an open window.

        “Oh, oh god. Where is she?” He ran to the window, looking out to see slowly fading footprints from the falling snow. “Crap. Ok, I just got to find her.”

        He ran to put on his warm clothes before moving quickly to not lose the tracks. They lead on and on, all the way to the edge of the snowy biome and towards the Dream SMP land.

        “Where did she go?” Ranboo panicked as there was no way to track her from here.

        He’d just have to work his way around the land. There was one place he could think of first, the hotel. Tubbo had told Ranboo that (Y/N) would now be the owner of the hotel according to Sam Nook once she was ok again. It was Tommy’s final project and he assumed she’d be there. So, he ran down the path towards the hotel but sputtered to stop as he saw a familiar figure sitting on a bench with a disc playing in the jukebox next to the bench.

        Ranboo hesitated as they were in their own world as they stared at the rising sun, but he came over because he needed to know.

        “Hey.” He said as he stopped a few steps away.

        (Y/N) jumped as she looked over at him.

        “Oh, hey.” She gave him a weak smile. “I…didn’t really process how late it was, you came looking for me?”

        “Yeah, I did. You had me worried. Luckily, Tubbo was doing something else.” He said as he sat on her right, making her stiffen. “What’s wrong?”

        “I just…dad sat there.”

        “Oh gosh, I’m sorry.” He stood up, instead sitting on her left, making her relax. “Is that why you sit in the middle?”

        She hesitated before nodding. “Tubbo on my left and dad on my right…We’d sit here some days for hours and just…watch the sun go up then down. I couldn’t think of anywhere else better to go…”

        Ranboo nodded, not sure why she needed to go here. Then again, as he looked behind him, of course, there was her old home. A few monuments had been constructed for Tommy.

        “What did you want to do here?” He asked carefully, looking at her as she was watching the skyline again.

        “…It’s stupid.” She muttered standing up.

        “No, no, it’s ok. I won’t judge you. I won’t even write it in my memory book if you don’t want me to.” (Y/N) looked at him and he stood up, towering over her but he crouched a bit as he put his hands on her shoulders. “I would never want to hurt you.”

        (Y/N) sighed as she looked at the bench and jukebox, finished playing the song.

        “Dad…Dad told me he and Uncle Tubbo heard Wilbur, actually Wilbur. And…” She rubbed her arm, shrugging.

        “You wanted to see if Tommy would come.”

        She nodded, a few stray tears coming loose and burning his enderman hand as he wiped them away but he didn’t flinch. “I just…I never got to say goodbye you know? I’ve never lost anyone really. Sure, I lost Uncle Wilbur but then I got Uncle Ghostbur, who was everything I loved before Wilbur went crazy. So, I never lost him. I didn’t have to say goodbye. But with dad…there’s nothing and I just…”

        Ranboo stood up and pulled her close into a hug, she hugging him back as she buried her face in his chest.

        “I just wanted him back one more time so I could tell him I loved him and say goodbye.” She gripped onto his shirt.

        “He knew you loved him; I know he did and he loved you so much. When I first met Tommy, he just kept going on about you and I thought you must be the happiest girl in the world to have such a loving dad like Tommy.” Ranboo muttered as she sniffled. “I wish I could say goodbye to him too…maybe we can do it a bit differently though.” She looked up at him and he gave her a sad smile. “Let’s get some flowers.”

        Together, (Y/N) and he gathered white and red flowers close by and planted them right outside the door. They both stood side by side and (Y/N) looked up at Ranboo at what to do next. Ranboo took a deep breath before stepping forward.

        “There’s…not much I can do so this is how I’m supposed to deal with this. I got some flowers with (Y/N) for you to make this little shrine, to help move on.” Ranboo had so many words to say, some of them cruel about the response of others in the world around them but he held his tongue to repeat them for another time when (Y/N) wasn’t beside him, looking for closure herself. “There’s not really much we can do…with you gone. I know I’m forgetful, but I won’t forget you and I wanted to save this memory of your place like this. I’m sure it won’t be here forever as many things you created…were destroyed. But, the one thing that can’t be broken, that can’t be destroyed…is what you left behind…and the people you left behind.”

        Ranboo looked at (Y/N), seeing her with new tears as she lightly gripped her bandana. He looked at the allium he had in his hands before looking back at the empty house.

        “Remember this? I gave you one of these and you immediately insulted me…That was the first time we interacted.” He remembered, (Y/N) giving a sad laugh. “I gave you one of these, you insulted me, and then…I helped with the thing that led you…to your demise…” It was all quiet as the pair stood there. “So, so here Tommy.” He put the flower on the ground in front of the door. “Have a flower…” They stood silent. “There’s no one there to pick it up anymore…so that means… goodbye Tommy.”

        He stepped back, (Y/N) standing there before walking forward, looking at Ranboo.

        He nodded encouragingly and she took a deep breath.

        “I…I came to the prison after I heard what happened. I…I don’t know if you heard me…but I shouted that I loved you and that I’d make sure you get out. I promised myself that it wouldn’t be like exile. That I’d make sure someone would get you out and Sam promised he would…” She played with her hands. “I could blame a lot of people…but I can’t. All I can blame is Dream. People should have listened but it was Dream’s fault. You always told me that.

        “You did so much for so many different people and people try to prove wrong but I know what you were really like because…you were my dad. You were the best. And…I’m going to miss you so much…There’s so much you didn’t get to teach me. One of them being, you never taught me how to say goodbye. But don’t worry Mr. Hamilton.” She smiled sadly at the door, tears trailing down. “I’ll figure it all out. It may be quiet right now but hopefully, I can hear everything again and remember what it was like to be happy, just for you.”

        She played with her bandana, sighing quietly.

        “I love you so much daddy, and I miss you. I have to say goodbye though, one last time. Till we meet again.”

        She turned from the door and started walking. Ranboo put a hand on her shoulder as he walked with her, neither seeing the figure currently invisible to the human eye.

        Tommy smiled sadly as he picked up a ghost of the flower left in front of him and moved past them, kicking up wind that made (Y/N) bandana dance in the wind. He knew she’d be ok…

[letarasstuff]

Can I stay with you?

(A/N): This is based on this, this and this post. I really hope you are ready for the feels, because they are there and they are heavy-

Summary: Following the events of Emily's death, how will Spencer and his daughter cope with it?

Warnings: Angst and lots of it, mentions of drug use, contemplations of drug use, mentions of needles, we also got some bittersweet fluff

Wordcount: 2.5k

✨Masterlist✨ _______________________________

A hospital is not a place where a child should be, Spencer knows that much. But he picked (Y/N) up on his way for two reasons:

The first one being the simple occurence that the babysitter is not able to keep her any longer, because she has classes in the next morning. The second one is selfish and the father knows that, but he needs her presence, the comfort she brings to him.

“Daddy”, the child breaks the silence in the waiting room, “Is Auntie Emily going to be ok?” She sits in his lap reading a book before looking up at him. Her eyes hold something he wishes to never see again: Fear. The fear of losing someone she loves dearly.

“I hope, Baby. But let’s not forget one important fact: Your Auntie Emily is one of the strongest women I know.” Spencer gives her a kiss on the top of her head and cuddles her closer to him, seeing (Y/N)’s eyes dropping. The rest of the team watches the interaction with aching hearts.

The girl is asleep for half an hour when JJ enters the room. Everybody gets up crowding her. Spencer is careful to not disturb his daughter as he moves her head to his shoulder and hooks his arm under her legs.

“She never made it off the table.” These words echo in the genius’ mind, seemingly being the only things he can think about. “I-I never had the chance to say goodbye.” JJ hugs him, trying to give some sort of comfort. In this process (Y/N) wakes up. As soon as she spots her father’s tears, she knows not to ask a question. Instead she loops her arms around his neck.

“It’s fine. It’s gonna be alright, Daddy”, the toddler recalls the words he says to her whenever she is upset in hopes to cheer him up.

The next couple days are hard on the whole team. They try to grieve together, especially while the funeral takes place. (Y/N) notices that the color black is fitting, since her Auntie really liked to wear it. She likes that they do the same to pay their respects that way.

“Auntie Penny, is she watching?” The blonde woman carries her while the casket is walked down the aisle. Since her death, (Y/N) doesn’t dare to say Emily’s name. She thinks if she avoids it, she is going to inflict less pain when she is talked about.

“Of course. Emily is in heaven and watches this beautiful beautiful ceremony we hold for her. So wipe that frown off and put on that smile she loved so much. Alright?” Confusing to her, the adults want (Y/N) to smile all the time. But they are frowning and crying more often than not.

“Can she hear us? Because I want to say I love her. I forgot to say it the last time I saw her.” Trying to distract herself from seeing the casket lowering into the grave, the girl plays with Penlope’s hair. She in turn has to fight tears back. Only now she realizes the impact the whole thing has on her.

“I’m sure she does. What about when the majority is gone, we go to her grave and talk to Emily? Do we have a deal?” (Y/N) nods.

As soon as the ceremony is over, Spencer takes his daughter, cradling her close to him. As if she senses his sadness, the girl is petting his back in a comforting way. He squeezes her closer to him, leaving her not much room to breathe.

“Daddy, I wanna talk to her. I need to get down.” (Y/N) wiggles in his grasp after she whispers this into his ear. Reluctantly Spencer lets her down and she toddles over to the freshly made grave. A little plastic card sticks out of the grass in place of a headstone.

The adults try to give her as much space as possible, they have to let grieve on her own.

“Hey, Auntie Emily. I-I wanted to say I love you, and I forgot to tell you this the last time so I say it a second time. I love you. And I miss you. I think Daddy misses you too. He is sad since you are gone. I’m too. I think it’s because we miss you. But I hope you like Heaven. Maybe you see my Mommy. When you do, can you say I love her?

“I’ll try to see you soon, Auntie. Goodbye!” (Y/N) goes back to her father and makes grabby hands towards him. Gladly Spencer picks her up again, putting a kiss on her head. “Wanna go home, Daddy.” The child mumbles, exhausted by all the stress and emotions from the day.

The father is relieved to have an excuse to skip the meal with the team. He is scared that the evening at the little restaurant is clouded by sadness and angst. Spencer doesn’t need that right now, a nice sit in with his daughter sounds way better.

After saying their goodbyes the little family sits in the car on their way to the apartment. As soon as Spencer starts the car, (Y/N) is fast asleep. He looks at her through the rear view mirror, happy to see her at peace. It gives the father time to sort through his own thoughts. Since Emily’s death (Y/N) tries to be around him constantly, which he is thankful for, because she keeps the darkness away.

Her last hours play again and again before his eyes. The different ways he could have stopped all of this. Why didn’t he say more when she began biting her nails? When she said “Laura Reynolds is dead”? Maybe all of this is his fault?

His forearm begins to itch. Exactly where Tobias Hankel injected the needle same as he did several times. Maybe, maybe it would make everything better? Just this one tim-

“Daddy? When are we home?” The small voice cuts off his train of thought. Spencer needs a few seconds to clear his mind. Did he really think that? Taking dilaudid while the reason he fought his addiction literally sits right behind him? “Just a few minutes, Sweetheart. Do you want to go to bed after dinner?”

As if she knows that the father can’t be left alone in this state, (Y/N) answers: “No, I wanna watch a movie with you. Can we watch Alvin and the chipmunks? I love Simon so much!” This places a smile on his face, the excitement in her eyes scare his dark thoughts away. “Sure, Peanut. We can watch whatever you want.”

It's the fourth evening in a row that the girl sleeps in her father’s bed. She either falls asleep there or climbs next to him in the middle of the night, so he figures he lets her sleep there right away.

“Good night, Sweetheart”, he tells her as they lay down. Even though it’s quite early for Spencer to go to bed it’s (Y/N)’s time. “Good night, Daddy”, she tells him while snuggling closer, “I love you. Soooooo much.”

The young doctor decides to take the next few days off from work in order to work through the events. The first one he spends coloring in books with her the whole day. While she works on her own books gifted by various members of the BAU, Spencer has his own extra made for adults. He can’t deny the soothing effect it has on him. The repeating moves calms the storm of thoughts inside his head.

The next day the two of them sit the whole day on the small couch in the living room, (Y/N) on his lap, and read. Sometimes they read for themselves, others the father reads outloud from his own or (Y/N) from her own. It’s kind of therapeutic to hear his child doing something he enjoyed his whole life.

“Daddy, do you think she feels lonely in heaven? There is nobody she knows, she has to wait for us to follow her, doesn’t she?” Not prepared for such a deep question, Spencer is caught off guard.

He clears his throat before answering. “Uh, Auntie Emily isn’t that lonely up there, you know. You can’t remember him, but Uncle Gideon, a friend from work and someone I looked up to, is there. He surely greeted her with open arms, happy to see her. And your Mommy is also there, she certainly asked lots of questions about you.” “A-are you sure? I told her to say Mommy ‘I love you’ when she sees her.” (Y/N) looks up to her father with big eyes.

He is not sure if he is lying right now to her, but he sees that his daughter needs the reassurance. “Yes, I’m sure.” To lighten the mood he begins to tickle her, which ends in a tickle fight which in turn ends in tiring the girl out and falling asleep while watching a Disney movie.

The next day is by far the worst since it all happened. Both (Y/N) and Spencer haven’t slept much due to nightmares from both sides (him comforting her as she tears him from his own), which results in a grumpy toddler and a non stop coffee drinking adult.

“Sweetheart, you need to put that shirt on. Auntie JJ is expecting us in ten minutes. Please, stop fighting me”, he begs, but she continues to cry. As Spencer tries for a third time to put it on her (Y/N) throws herself to the other side of the bed.

“I don’t want that, Daddy!” She finally gets out through her sobs. Spencer halts in his movements. “Why? That’s your favorite, Baby.” While (Y/N) begins to cry louder, he leaves the clothing article on the bed and gathers her in his arm, rocking her back and forth additionally to whispering sweet reassurances in her ear.

“She gave it to me. I don’t wanna make it dirty or ruin it”, the toddler says between shaky breaths. For what feels like the trillionth time, the young agent’s heart breaks over this statement. He has a bigger vocabulary than the average English speaking person, but at this moment Spencer is at a loss of words.

“Sweetheart, I apologize for not acknowledging this right away. I’ll get another shirt out for you, ok? Thank you so much for telling and helping me.” Just a few minutes later the little family is on their way to the next metro stop. It’s then that Spencer realizes his day won’t be any easier.

“(Y/N) you can sit in the seat next to me like you always do. Why do you have to sit in my lap today?” Normally he isn’t someone who denies his child physical contact, but the seating chart has a logical purpose. Being on a train with a child means you have some kind of luggage with you, which leads to occupying a four seats compartment. In order to prevent somebody taking the seat next to him, Spencer places his daughter there. It’s a win win situation for everybody, really.

Unfortunately for him (Y/N) is extra clingy today and won’t stop crawling onto his lap. With a sigh he accepts his defeat and tries not to think about the amount of germs that fly around.

Another problem that torments the father: Over the last few days his cravings grew. Especially today the feeling, the need, for another shot and another high is undeniable for him. As if sensing this (Y/N) sticks by his side throughout the whole time, keeping his mind off of the drug that changes him.

While they are at the Jareau’s and Lamontagne’s household, his daughter refuses to play with Henry. “I wanna stay with you”, she murmurs into his shoulder. Again Spencer accepts his defeat and sits down on the couch next to his best friend.

“Sweetheart, you need to let me go. I have to go to the bathroom, you can’t come with me.” This is followed by a tsunami of tears. While JJ tries to console her, he slips out of the room discreetly.

Due to (Y/N)’s current grumpiness and Spencer’s fatigue they quickly call it a night, even though he could use some more comfort from his friends.

“Good night, Sweetheart. Sleep tight and dream nice. I love you”, he says after tucking his child in and giving her a kiss on the forehead. “Night night, Daddy. I love you, too”, her small voice echoes back to him and makes him smile softly.

Spencer finds his way back to the living room and sits down with a book in his lap. As expected he doesn’t get much reading done, too distracted by his own thoughts. The events of the night of his colleague’s, his friend’s, death replay themselves over and over again.

What if he made his conclusions faster? He is supposed to be the smart one, the one the team relies on for making important connections. But he failed once so who knows what happens when he fails again? Next time it could be the whole team dying. He could die. He would leave (Y/N) alone with the team gone. His mother isn’t capable of caring for her and his father doesn’t even know she exists. She will go into foster care, into a home with too many kids. She will be looked over, too small to be seen. Her potential will go to waste and she will never achieve anything she is capable of. And all that because he hasn’t made a conclusion fast enough.

Spencer’s scars on his forearm itch worse than ever. One shot. Only one shot to make the thoughts go away. To make the guilt go away, the bad feelings. He needs it. He needs to cure himself from the symptoms of being a human.

Before the young doctor even registers what he is doing he already put his jacket on and looks for his wallet when a voice startles him.

“Daddy, i can't sleep. Can I stay with you again?” (Y/N) stands in the doorway, clutching her stuffed animal and her blanket, shielding her eyes from the light, oblivious to what her father was about to do.

“Oh Darling, of course. Do you want me to read to you? Or we drink hot chocolate and watch a movie?” He suggests, ready to distract himself from anything that’s going on in his mind. A few minutes later his daughter cuddles into his side while watching once again Alvin and the Chipmunks.

Spencer is just happy to have his light in his life all the time and is ready to tackle any task to keep her there, may it be once again the weekly visits for anonymous narcotics or time off from work to process the events together in therapy.

Taglist:

All works:

@agentshortstacc

Criminal Minds:

@averyhotchner @mggsprettygirl

Spencer Reid x child!reader:

@ilovetaquitosmmmm

[waitimcomingtoo]

Open for holiday requests? Well then... ho,ho,ho🎅 Tom’s driving home frantically during holiday season and ends up getting his car stuck in a snowstorm. Reader and her family take him in from the cold and slowly he adjusts for the time being and maybe starts catching feelings???

I love a good hallmark like Xmas movie romance!

Home For The Holidays 

Pairing: Tom Holland x Reader

Masterlist

“Spencer, look!” Lucas alerted his twin once he heard the knock. “There’s someone outside.”

Spencer got up to the window curiously and looked outside, seeing Tom covered head to toe in snow.

“It’s a monster.” Spencer shrieked as he ducked down from the window.

“It is not a monster.” Lucas rolled his eyes before looking out the window again. “Oh my God.”

“What?” Spencer asked, jumping up next to his twin to look out the window.

“Its a monster.” Lucas gasped. The boys scrambled to the door and flung it open, gasping in unison at the sight of a snow covered Tom.

“Hi. I’m-“

Are you the abdominal snowman?” Lucas asked as he let Tom in the door.

“No, I’m T-“

“Daisy!” Spencer cut him off with a shout. “Come in here!”

“Is there an adult I can speak to?” Tom asked the child as a little girl came into the room.

“Whats going on?” Daisy asked before her eyes landed on Tom. “Woah, is that an abdominal snowman?”

“Yea!” Spencer nodded. “He came right to our door.”

“I saw him out in the snow.” Lucas said proudly.

“Hey kids.” Tom spoke again. “Sorry to bother you, but I really need to talk to an adult. Are your parents home?”

“Did you come from the North Pole?” Spencer asked.

“No, Spencer.” Daisy rolled her eyes. “The abdominal snowman lives in Alaska.”

“I think he lives in Florida.” Lucas added.

“It’s actually abominable and I’m from Europe.” Tom cut in.

“Do you have magic powers?” Lucas asked.

“Yeah. I can use a phone really well. Do you want to see?” Tom tried to bait them into letting him use the phone.

“Wait!” Spencer gasped.

“What?” Daisy asked.

“Stranger danger.” Spencer realized. “We let a stranger into the house.”

“Oh no.” Lucas whined. “My parents are gonna be mad at me.”

“Mine too.” Daisy feared. “We can’t tell them.”

“Get Y/n.” Lucas instructed. “She’ll know what to do.”

“Okay.” Spencer ran out of the room, leaving Tom with the other two kids.

“Is Y/n your age?” Tom asked the children, hoping he wouldn’t have to deal with another child.

“No. Shes my cousin.” Daisy answered. “I think she’s 40. Shes really pretty though.”

“He’s right in here. He doesn’t look like the one in the movie.” Tom heard Spencer’s voice coming back. He came into the room with you, your one hand holding his and your other over your eyes.

“Okay. Can I open my eyes now?” You asked your brother.

“Uh huh.” Spencer said, and you slowly opened your eyes and removed your hand. Tom finally got a good look at you and felt all the air leave his chest.

“Uh, hi.” Tom waved awkwardly at you, taken aback by the beautiful stranger who let him on their house. You, on the other hand, were thinking something entirely different.

“AHHHHH.” You screamed and grabbed the children. “Intruder!”

“Woah woah woah.” Tom tried to calm you down. “The kids let me in.”

“Did you hurt them? Are you guys okay?” You asked as you inspected the children.

“We’re okay.” Lucas nodded, making you kiss his forehead out of relief. You picked Daisy up with one arm and held the boys close to you with your other as you backed away from Tom.

“Who are you and why are you in my house?” You demanded.

“My name is Tom.” Tom started slowly. “I’m so sorry to bother you but my car has broken down and I can’t get any service. Would you mind letting me use your phone?”

“My whole family is inside.” You told him. “Can you give me some sort of proof that you’re not chop us up and turn us into soup?”

“What kind of proof do you need?” Tom chuckled softly.

“Can you take me out to your car to show me that it’s broken down?”

“It’s really cold out here and I parked pretty far. It’s not safe for you to walk all the way out there.” Tom warned you.

“How far did you walk?” You asked, suddenly noticing how tired he looked.

“I’m not sure. You can’t see anything out there.” He shrugged. You chewed your lip and looked down at your siblings and cousin before making a decision.

“Kids, go inside and help grandma with the cooking.” You instructed. “Tell her I said you could have one piece of candy each.”

“Are we in trouble for letting a stranger inside?” Lucas asked fearfully.

“No, honey.” You assured him. “Just don’t do it again, okay? You did the right thing by coming to get me.”

The children smiled in relief before scurrying out of the room, leaving you alone with Tom.

“Empty your coat pockets” You demanded, trying to put on a brave face.

“Okay, but why?” Tom wondered as he took the contents of his pockets out.

“In case you have any weapons.” You said like it was obvious.

“There.” Tom said as he put the last of it on the table. “Pockets are empty.”

You eyed him skeptically before walking up to him and putting his hands in his pockets. You patted him down until you were satisfied.

“Okay. I believe you.” You nodded. “I’m Y/n, by the way.”

“Tom.” He shook your hand. “Are those your kids?”

“No.” You smiled. “Those were my brothers and my niece.”

“They’re cute.” Tom complimented. “They look like you.”

“Well, I have tons more in the living room.” You said proudly. “That’s why I have to keep you in here until I know you won’t hurt anyone.”

“How can I gain your trust?”

“Um, I don’t really know.” You realized. “I’ve never interrogated anyone before.”

“How about this.” Tom offered as he pulled off his hat and scarf, revealing his reddened face. “I’ll take off my stuff so you can see I’m just a regular guy.”

Your body language changed when you saw that he was a handsome guy your age. You blushed a little and looked around the room to gather yourself.

“Your skin is freezing.” You sighed as you touched a warm hand to his cold cheek. “How long have you been out there?”

“A while. I can’t feel anything below my neck.”

“You poor thing.” You sighed and rubbed his arms to warm him up. “Come on, let’s get you warmed up.”

“Wait, what about the interrogation?” Tom wondered.

“You passed. Now come on, before you get frostbite.” You laughed as you took his hand and lead him into your living room where your family was. Tom looked around the room, seeing at least 8 children and a bunch of adults. As soon as they saw you, your cousin Clementine ran into your arms for a hug. You scooped her up and held her on your hip as you addressed your family.

“Everyone, this is Tom.” You put your hand on Toms back. “His car broke down and he needs our help.”

“How cute is he!” Your aunt Linda gushed. “Look at those brown eyes.”

“The eyes? Look at that hair. So healthy.” Your Aunt Mary added.

“Nice to meet you Tom. I’m also Tom.” Your grandfather reached forward to shake Toms hand.

“And I’m Gary.” Your other grandfather shook his hand. “Nice handshake. Strong.”

“Thank you sir.” Tom smiled shyly.

“Ah, Y/n, he’s your age.” Your grandmother gasped. “What a cute couple you’d make.”

“Do you want to see my train set?” Your brother Charlie tugged on Toms hand. “I built it myself.”

“I helped.” Your youngest brother, George, told him. “I put the tracks together.”

“I’d love to see it.” Tom smiled at him.

“Can we get you something to eat?” Your uncle Jason asked Tom. “You must be starving.”

“How about a drink? Do you like hot chocolate? I just made some.” Aunt Linda offered.

“Have a seat, dear.” Your mom led Tom to a chair. “You must have been walking for miles.”

“A friend of mine owns the best auto shop in town. I’ll give him a call for you to see about your car.” Your uncle Richard said as he went to get the house phone.

“Thank you, sir. I greatly appreciate that.” Tom nodded in appreciation.

“Did you hear that?” Your mom gasped. “Manners.”

“And that accent.” Aunt Mary winked. “Oh, Y/n, he’s perfect for you.”

“Aunt Mary.” You glared at her. “We just met.”

“Oh, you must be freezing. I’ll get you a sweater.” Your other grandmother moved towards the closet.

“Make Y/n get it.” Your grandma waved her hand in dismissal. “You need to focus on the food.”

“Y/n, would you take Tom to get a fresh set of clothes? He’ll catch his death in this weather.” Your mother asked you.

“Please, don’t let me put you to any trouble.” Tom tried to stop them from going to great lengths for him.

“Nonsense. You’re our guest.” Your mother smiled at him.

“Follow me.” You put Clementine down and took Toms hand, leading him to one of the bedrooms.

“You have such a big family.” Tom commented as you reached the room.

“I know.” You smiled proudly as you got clothes out of the closet. “Every holiday is a huge celebration. It’s the only time we all get to be together.”

“That’s really great that you’re all so close.” Tom smiled as he looked at the family pictures hanging on the wall.

“Yeah. I wouldn’t trade them for anything. Here.” You handed him clothes. “You can put on anything you find and leave your wet clothes in the bathroom.”

You went to leave the room but Tom grabbed your arm.

“Y/n?” Tom asked.

“Yes, Tom?”

“Thank you. I really appreciate you letting me in.” Tom smiled warmly.

“And I really appreciate you not chopping my family up and turning us into soup.” You smiled back before leaving the room. You waited a few minutes before coming back in once you assumed Tom was finished changing.

“I found some more sweaters if none of those...” You trailed off when you saw what Tom was wearing.

“What?” Tom asked in confusion as he looked down at the sweater.

“That’s my dads sweater. I haven’t seen it in years.” You smiled softly as you ran your fingers down the material of the sweater.

“It’s so soft.” Tom chuckled as he felt it as well. “He doesn’t wear it anymore?”

“No. He um, he passed away a few years ago.” You admitted, keeping your eyes down.

“Oh, I’m so sorry. I can take it off.” Tom immediately went to remove it.

“No, it’s okay.” You stopped him. “It suits you.”

“Tom! Y/n!” Your aunt Linda called from the living room. “Hot chocolate is ready!”

“Come on.” You took his hand. “My aunt makes really good hot chocolate. You’ll love it.”

Tom blushed behind your back as you lead him to the kitchen, feeling intimidated when he saw your entire family sitting down.

“There you two are.” Your mother smiled. “We were just sitting down to eat.”

“You can sit next to me.” You pulled Tom to two empty seats. He pulled your chair out for you, making you smile.

“I wanna sit with Tom.” Daisy whined.

“No, I do.” George pouted.

“You can sit across from me.” Tom told George. “And I’ll sit in the middle of Y/n and Daisy.”

“I called the auto shop.” Your uncle told Tom. “They can’t send anybody out here until the morning. Hope you don’t spending the night here.”

“Oh, don’t worry about it.” Tom shook his head. “I’m sure I’ll find a hotel around here.”

“Nonsense. You’ll never make it to a hotel. Plus, we have a perfectly good bed right here.” Your grandpa insisted.

“I don’t want to put you to too much trouble.” Tom told your family. “You’ve already done so much for me.”

“It’s no trouble at all. We’re happy to have you here.” Your other grandpa said.

“Hot chocolate, for you.” Aunt Linda placed two mugs down in front of you and Tom.

“Would you like some potatoes?” Aunt Mary passed him the bowl.

“How about some greens? I put a little brown sugar on them to make them taste good.” Aunt Linda put some on Toms plate.

“You have to try this. It’s my special recipe.” Your grandma put a baked zucchini next to the green beans.

“My wife makes the best stuffing.” Uncle Gary chuckled as he put some on Toms plate. “You’ll want to take some before the kids get it all.”

“Ooo. Make sure you get some cranberry sauce.” Your mother filled the last empty spot on Toms dish.

“Thank you. All of you. I really appreciate your kindness.” Tom smiled fondly at the table, his heart warming with gratitude.

“It’s the holiday season. Kindness is the most important gift you can give.” Your grandpa declared.

“Tom, do you want to play dolls with me after dinner?” Your cousin Ivy asked.

“No, he has to see my train set first.” Charlie spoke up.

“We could put the dolls on the train.” Tom suggested, making all the children grin.

“Did you hear that? He’s a genius.” Lucas said to Spencer.

“How long is Tom gonna stay with us?” Ivy asked her mom.

“Can he stay in my room tonight? I have stars on my ceiling.” Lucas told Tom.

“That sounds really cool, Lucas.” Tom nodded. “You’ll have to show me.”

“Are you and Y/n gonna get married?” Clementine wondered out loud, making you slap your hand to your forehead while Tom laughed.

“We just met, Clementine.” You said shyly as you pushed your food around your plate.

“Do you like pie Tom?” Aunt Linda piped up. “I made apple and cherry.”

“And I made pumpkin.” You leaned towards him to tell him.

“I like pumpkin.” Tom smiled at you, leaning in as well.

“Me too.” You giggled as you bumped shoulders with him.

“Oh look!” Aunt Mary gasped. “You two are under the mistletoe.”

You and Tom looked up and sure enough, a bustle of mistletoe was hanging above your heads. Toms face immediately flushed as he looked at you, but you were busy giving an unamused look to your family.

“Wow.” You said sarcastically. “It’s almost like someone hung mistletoe over the only two empty seats at the table.”

“Maybe it was a coincidence.” Tom squeaked.

“Uh Uh.” You shook your head. “This was no coincidence. My family did this on purpose.”

You punctuated your sentence by standing up and taking the mistletoe down, making your family roll their eyes and huff.

“We’re not gonna kiss.” You declared as you set the mistletoe down on the table. “Not like this.”

Tom perked up at your words, but appeared to be the only one that heard it. He looked around the table for witnesses, but found that your family had given up and started eating. Out of the corner of his eye, he watched you slip the mistletoe into your cardigan pocket. Tom eyes you curiously but didn’t say anything as he began to eat his food.

After dinner, Tom helped you clear the table while the kids ran off to play. You couldn’t help but smile at him as he stood next to your grandmother, drying the dishes as she washed them.

“Look at him.” Your grandmother gawked. “He’s helping me wash the dishes.”

“Y/n, if you don’t marry him, I will.” Your mom clicked her tongue, making you roll your eyes.

“Stop it.” You scolded. “No one here marrying him. We don’t even know if he’s single.”

“Well, Tom, are you seeing anyone?” Aunt Mary asked him as she put the dishes away.

“I’m not, no.” Tom answered as he kept his eyes on you. You gave him a coy smile before looking away.

“Then when are you taking Y/n on a date?” Aunt Linda asked, making you gasp.”

“Aunt Linda!” You exclaimed. “That’s enough. Nothings gonna happen between us if you’re all poking around in our business. We’re leaving. Come on, Tom.”

Tom gave an apologetic look to your family as he followed you out of the room. You took his hand and brought him to one of the rooms, presumably the one you were staying in.

“Sorry about that.” You sighed as you shut the door behind you. “They’re always trying to set me up.”

“Has it ever worked before?” Tom asked, a hint of jealousy in his words.

“I don’t know.” You shrugged and flicked your eyes to the ceiling. “You tell me.”

Tom followed your eyes and looked up as well, smiling a little when he saw mistletoe badly taped above your heads.

“Hm.” Tom played coy. “Now, where did that come from?”

“I took it from the dining room.” You laughed. “It’d be a shame to go to waste.”

“You know what?” Tom smirked as he hooked his pinky under your chin, tilting your lips closer to his. “I was thinking the same thing.”

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[ginazmemeoir]

for @gopikanyari - i couldn't draw them but i did write this fic.

tagging @taareginn @momo-all-the-way @dragonfairy1231 @aadyeah @weird-u @holding-infinity-and-a-book @aloomu @carmen-riddle @mango-pickle

Everything slows down. All I feel is my breath, the sweat trickling down my face, and the tension in my hand dissipating as I release the knife and let it fly. It strikes the dummy with a ‘thwack’, and I keep staring at it. Miss. Again.

My father didn’t consider educating his youngest child, a girl, in the art of warfare. So after getting married to five men, all brothers, in a strange twist of fate, having near death experiences in the forest and at my husbands’ home in Hastinapur, I decided to instruct myself. Swords made me feel confident, bows and arrows made me feel like a hero in an epic, but knives? They made me feel like a toddler playing pretend. And yet, Drona, my husbands’ mentor and father’s sworn enemy, insisted on teaching me in “the art of the blade”.

I lean against the wall, wiping the sweat off using a cloth, and head for a bath. As I exit, my maid Malti approaches me, her face writ with worry. “Um… uh… Your Majesty…” she stutters. I place my hand on her shoulder and calm her down, “What happened Malti? Something in your family?” I ask. Instead, Malti hands me a card. I take it from her, beaming at the seal – a dolphin encircled by a peacock feather – Krishna’s emblem. I greedily tear the elaborate wrapping, desperate for the kind of raucous and “unladylike” interaction that I only got with Krishna. My eyes skim over the letter’s contents, and my heart sinks. “Impossible,” I mutter, clutching the letter in my hand, “my husbands promised me complete fidelity. They cannot remarry again.” Malti, her voice trembling, then uttered the words which my feeble brain couldn’t read, “Your Highness, the invite was delivered by a member of the Dwaraka council. Prince Arjuna is getting married to Subhadra, Lord Govinda’s sister.”

The streets of Hastinapur are jubilant with celebrations, as their prince returns with his new bride. All over the city, repairs were done, and frivolous, expensive structures were erected, all in an effort to show the audacious wealth of the Kuru empire. The cheerful, flower and gold bedecked exterior hid the internal deformities. Suyodhana’s maternal uncle, Shakuni, or as everybody called him in the land – the snake – fumed at what had transpired (from what I gathered Suyodhana was to be wed to Subhadra, who had eloped with my husband); King Dhritarashtra boiled in silent anger, while Queen Gandhari taunted and cried out her distress every now and then.

Arjuna arrived on the gates of the palace, his new bride at his side, followed by my other husbands (his brothers) and Krishna. Both bride and groom were bedecked in the finest of clothes and jewels, looking like overstuffed dummies. Even from here in my balcony, I could clearly see the bride’s discomfort in wearing the heavy jewellery and silks preferred by the Hastinapur royalty even in the scorching summer. All the ceremonies and rituals were performed with due tradition, thus amounting to an hour or two, and then only did the entourage enter the palace. I hurry down to meet the party, when I see the newlyweds walking towards me. Anger floods every pore of my body. Had I had my way, I would have scorched the palace with the same fire from which I was born. What kind of man is this cruel, taking his second wife to meet his first? Disgusted I slam the door on their stricken faces, and bury myself in my misery. Was I never destined to be happy?

The years pass by, and an unlikely bond forms between Subhadra and I – the kind of bond shared by mothers. It took six pregnancies to break the barrier between us, and she had approached first. That would always be a guilt I would carry – that I hadn’t extended my hand earlier, blinded by pride and anger. Soon, awkwardness gives place to an unlikely friendship, with her teaching me the various wonders of the world she had seen on her various trips; Greece, China, the Golden Isand of Lanka, she had seen it all. Meanwhile I taught her how to wield a sword , and helped her navigate the tricky waters of politics and party throwing. It was a rare, pure friendship – one spent wearing a cotton sari under a scorching sun, eating mangoes with sticky hands and giggling, one I had never experienced before.

I walk towards my palace. Or, not my palace, since Duryodhana owns it now. Nothing is left, not even my pride and dignity. My dishevelled appearance, torn sari, entangled hair and bruises make for a frightening appearance apparently, stunning everybody into silence. I don’t feel human anymore, just a husk slowly inching its way before it collapses, for my soul was stripped along with my clothes in that den of gamblers and cowards. I seethe with a burning hatred against my husbands, pretentious motherfuckers cowering behind their false dharma and “code of chivalry”, which conveniently vanished when they took multiple wives and yet made me marry all five of them against my will. I want to rage and burn and destroy and drink the blood of Dushasana and use Duryodhana’s skull as the cup. I thought my city, this magnificent city of Indraprastha, loved me the same way I loved it. And yet, in my darkest hours, none came to stop what followed, except perhaps Vikarna, a brother of the man whom I didn’t consider human. Subhadra was in the guava orchards with Abhimanyu, when she saw me. She quickly put him down, and rushed towards me, trying to cover me with a scarf, as if I cared anymore. She took me inside, and drew a bath for me. That day, I scrubbed my skin raw till it turned red and almost tore my hair from my scalp, trying to rid myself of Dushasana’s filthy touch. She then gives me some khus, which I drink gingerly, my tears mixing with the sweet green concoction. At first, she looks stricken, unable to believe what had transpired. Disbelief gave way to pity, which gave way to anger. “It’s useless Subhadra. Nothing is left. And I will make sure, that nothing will be.” I console her. I see the fear in her eyes then. Good. People had forgotten who I was, but I’d make sure I’d remind them in the years to follow. They blamed me for what had happened right, that I was too weak or too proud? Well then I’d like to prove them right. I am Draupadi. Paanchali. Yajnaseni. Born from fire, born to wreak havoc, born to change the fate of this cursed land of Jambudweep, where the roll of a dice values more than a person.

The 13 years that follow are spent in agony. Twelve years of wandering in the forest, facing arrogant saints and malevolent creatures. I keep wondering of Subhadra and my kids. When she had heard the news, she had slapped an unsuspecting Arjuna, and taken Abhimanyu and my kids with her to Dwarka, safe and secure, forbidding him to show her his face until he proved himself worthy. Arjuna soon parted ways with us in the forest, going off on some adventure, finding new beauties to marry and accumulating more powers for the war to follow. I meet Hidimba in the forest as well, Bhima’s first wife. I envy her freedom and her life. And then comes the dreaded year of agyaatvasa – living in the shadows, for fear of recognition. Yudhishthira becomes advisor to King Virata of Matsya, Bhima a cook, Nakula the master of stables, Sahadev a shepherd and I, the mighty Draupadi? A hairdresser. How cruel life was, making the woman who kept her hair unkempt and open as a reminder of her revenge, a hairdresser to a queen. Arjuna also returned, but as the eunuch dancer Brihannala. Even here, peace eluded me as the queen’s brother Keechaka turned his perverted gaze towards me. But this time, I had enough. And so I invite him to a secluded spot and then have his skull crushed by Bhima.

It’s the time of war. Vultures and hyenas gather in the fields of Kurukshetra in anticipation of the feast to follow. I reside in the camp with the other ladies and children of the house. I am unable to recognize my own kids at first, how quickly they’ve grown and how much they have changed. They greet me with the same love and respect, but something has changed fundamentally in our relationship, a cherished bond that would never be the same. Subhadra is there by my side, making me live their childhood through their mischievous stories and their life at Dwarka, and yet my mind wanders to our six sons – wearing their armour and lifting their weapons, barely on the cusp of manhood and yet already thrust into a war that isn’t their own. I stopped believing in gods long since, and yet I pray to any that might exist with a shred of mercy in their heart towards me – let my children live.

Abhimanyu’s mutilated corpse greets us on the thirteenth day of war. His body looked so gruesome, even Yamraj would have shuddered. Subhadra’s wails pierce through the sky, reverberating more than the clang of metal and steel. She reaches for Abhimanyu’s body, hugging him close, with his head on her lap, embracing her son for a final time before the fires engulfed him. I am too shocked, and Subhadra too bereaved, to either comfort or be comforted. There is no sermon, no balm, no magic for this loss. His loss permeates into every single cell of our being, and stays there. Subhadra cries the entire night, her eyes red from crying, consuming neither food nor water. I stay by her side all along. The other ladies comfort his wife Uttara, in the final month of her pregnancy, devastated by the destruction of her own small world before it could begin. Finally, when dawn breaks, and her body is devoid of tears, does Subhadra arise, but she’s not the same. She goes with the Pandavas to cremate her only child, and returns back. She utters not a single word, conveys not a single emotion. She doesn’t rage like fire – she is instead like the oceans near her home. A turbulent storm rages within, which the calm face doesn’t give away.

I come back to my tent having exacted my revenge. The sound of Dushasana’s arms being ripped off, his skull cracking open echo in my ears. My hair drip with his blood, my face smeared with sweat. I thought I would feel victorious, at peace now that I had avenged myself, avenged Abhimanyu’s death. But then Subhadra gazes at me, and a single gaze is enough to communicate everything in my heart. Is this who I am now? What more atrocities would be committed in this war?

The war has come at an end, as Duryodhana lies dying in agony, his thighs shattered. I go with everybody to cremate the fallen and pay my respects to Grandsire Bhishma, as he too draws his last breath upon his bed of arrows and leaves this world. All the bodies are collected in a massive mountain of rotting half eaten flesh, and cremated. The fire blazes high, an inferno reaching for the skies, taking the souls of everybody within it towards Indra’s court, which receives anybody who dies fighting. The flame reminds me of my own birth, which seems like a lifetime away. I return back to camp, weary from all the death that surrounded me, and am instead greeted by a fresh nightmare. My brother Dhrishtadyumna’s head hangs at the gate, his decapitated body beneath him, hands closed around his sword even in death. I rush in to find everybody dead – physicians, maids, cooks, attendants, charioteers, guards, everybody. I enter my sons’ tent, fearing the worst and that is when I see their corpses. They were still in bed. Sleeping. They were supposed to ride out tomorrow to Indraprastha, their true home. They were supposed to grow up and live their life far away from court or war. They were planning to finally visit the fabled Palace of Illusions, swimming in the Mirror Lake, plucking fresh fruits from the orchards. Sutasoma intended to devour all the books he could lay his hands on. Prativindhya wanted to try wine. Srutakarma wanted to learn pottery and sculpting. Shatanika wanted to try make up, while Shrutasena wanted to learn music and painting. My children were robbed of their lives and their futures in their sleep. Now I truly knew the meaning of loss. I would rather die a thousand times over just so I could bring them back. I collapse, the last thing I hear is Subhadra shouting my name. I don’t feel the ground as I fall.

It is in this hell on earth does Subhadra’s daughter in law Uttara give birth. She screams in pain as she tries to push her child out of her womb, the last child of a massacred dynasty, when the room suddenly fills with a scorching white light. It disappears as suddenly as it arrived, and everybody immediately figures out what happened. The Brahmastra, the strongest weapon in the universe. Aimed directly at Uttara’s womb and her unborn child. It is an unspeakable crime. The death of his grandnephew makes Krishna goes insane, and for the first time in my life, I see him become the angel of death. He picks up the babe, and proclaims, “If I have been a truly righteous human, let this child come to life.” The child, a boy, gasps and cries, strong and powerful. I have stopped believing in miracles, but this is one I admit. Subhadra reached for her grandson, and cradles him in her arms. Her tears drop on his forehead, as she smiles at him. As she hands the baby to me, there’s an understanding in our eyes. An agreement. A promise. Never shall this child know suffering. Never shall this child know pain. He will have what we could not. He will have a childhood, a future, a life.

We make this oath to ourselves. Sisters, united by pain, suffering and hope.

[fortisfiliae]

Promised Part 16 - Tom Riddle x reader

Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4 | Part 5 | Part 6 | Part 7 | Part 8 | Part 9 | Part 10 | Part 11 | Part 12 | Part 13 | Part 14 | Part 15 | Part 16 | Part 17 | Masterpost | Masterlist

Summary: In this story, Tom didn’t grow up as an orphan, but with his grandfather and uncle. Reader’s sister got very sick and the Gaunts offer their help. But not without asking for something in return.

Disclaimer: Please be aware that I don’t condone any of this in real life. (GIF is not mine)

Warnings: Arranged marriage, physical fights, mentions of  torture (brief), blood and violence, character death. Read with care!

Word count: 4k

Part 16 - 30th June 1945

The N.E.W.T.s had gone by so quickly, it felt like all the preparations, all those years in Hogwarts and all the worries they had brought you, had been of utmost exaggeration. Of course, they had been challenging, but what the Professors had said about them in advance, how hard and draining they would be, how nervous every student had been, made it even more curious afterwards. It had only taken a few days after all. Some days of your life, which would most likely be forgotten in a few years. Just like any other week. And all that fuss for that? Well, at least they were over.

Tom, Camille and you had passed most classes with the highest grades. Freda had gotten some outstanding grades as well and even Avery and Lestrange had qualified, if only barely. The final evening in the Great Hall was filled with a strange kind of melancholy for the students of year seven. You had done it, all of you. Seven years in Hogwarts, school of witchcraft and wizardry. It was like your first year had only gone by moments ago, you could practically still feel the sorting hat sitting on top of your head. But alas, all good things come to an end.

Final points were given to all of the houses and, to most people’s surprise, Hufflepuff won the cup. Everyone knew headmaster Dippet favoured Slytherin and Tom and Freda had surely given their own house a few extra points here and there, but Avery and Lestrange’s robbery from Slughorn had cost Slytherin too many points to recover from. All Hufflepuffs were overwhelmed with joy and Ben even ran over from the Gryffindor table to kiss Camille on the cheek while she celebrated.

Walking through the halls one last time was strange, you couldn’t fathom that you would leave the castle ultimately. It really had grown to be everyone’s second home and it would always remain so in your heart. Sadly, there wasn’t a lot of time for grief, as the antidote for Mors Grano was finally ready and waited to be filled into a flask to be used the following day. Tomorrow, June 30th would be your wedding day. A day you had dreaded but still couldn’t wait for. A day that was about to change everything.

And there you were. In an old chapel north of Ramsbury, a small muggle town, where no one knew who you were. The Gaunts had chosen the place themselves and had only told your family where to go the day of, most likely to make sure you couldn’t plan to mess with them. 

The chapel was dull, as was everything else there. No guests, not even a priest or a registrar to wed the two of you. Marvolo had told you that he was to do it himself. The place was so small, it wouldn’t have even fit a lot of guests, but you still wished that at least Camille could have been there to witness. And so, with a heavy heart, you stood in the tiny side room, where Mother’s wedding dress waited to be put on, while Elsie, your parents and the Gaunts waited in the chapel.

“Alright?” Tom asked as he fixed his tie in front of the mirror. 

You watched him as you went over towards the dress, your fingers brushing over the silk skirt. He looked great in his tailored black suit, white shirt and dark green tie, there was no way of denying it. Freda Morris would have been just as green with envy if she had seen him, but yet, not everything was about looks. 

“I’m alright,” you said and took another look at the dress. “I have to change now. Put this thing on.”

“I’ll give you some privacy in a minute,” he mentioned as he walked over to the desk where some things were gathered. He had put a large box there when you had arrived. “I brought someone with me.”

He pulled the top off from the box and you peaked in. “Nagini! Marvolo allowed for you to take her here?”

“He doesn’t know,” Tom shrugged. “And it would be better if it stayed that way.”

“I see,” you said as you held your hand inside the box for the snake to smell you. “Well at least I know one of my friends is here.” 

Tom wore an unreadable expression when he closed the box again, his lips thin as he nodded slightly. “Do you have the antidote with you?”

“Yes,” you answered and pulled it out from your pocket. The flask was the size of your palm, small and translucent. The potion inside shone through the glass like a silver and lilac gloss. “It’s right here.”

“Alright then,” he said. “Give it to your sister as soon as you can. I’ll wait outside with the others.”

When he closed the door behind himself you heard Marvolo nagging about what was taking so long, urging for you to hurry. The bastard made everything about himself again, even on your wedding day, which should have been the happiest day of your life. You pulled the dress off the hook vigorously, put it on and changed it here and there with your wand to make it fit better. When you went over to the mirror to look at yourself, it felt like staring at a stranger’s reflection. The dress was beautiful, but you didn’t look even close to what a happy bride should look like. Your hair and makeup had been done in a hurry, nothing was as perfect as it could have been. No traditions, no extended family or friends, not even a banquet. You didn’t know what you had expected - it was clear from the beginning that the wedding wouldn’t be anything like you had dreamed of since you were little - but it was certainly not this. Not as marginal, not as a means to an end.

Three hard knocks on the door pulled you out of your thoughts. “Are you done yet?” Marvolo’s muffled voice called. “Hurry up!”

Desperation turned into annoyance and your eyebrows furrowed even deeper. What did he want now? “I need a minute,” you answered as you opened the door only an inch. “Elsie, Mum, can you help me with my dress?”

Marvolo mumbled a few incomprehensible words while the two walked in. To hell with him, he could wait for five more minutes before he would get what he wanted. And you should get what you wanted too. Right now.

Mother looked you up and down with a smile. “You look beautiful, darling. What do you need help with?”

“Come,” you told them quietly and took Elsie by the hand, leading her to the other end of the tiny room, so that the Gaunts wouldn’t hear you. “I have to tell you something.”

The two looked at each other and then back at you, waiting for you to explain.

“I found something out a while back. Tom told me, he showed me. The curse that hit you, Elsie, it wasn’t sent by someone who wanted to attack Father. It wasn’t meant for Father at all.”

Elsie’s eyes grew wide and Mother laid her hand on your sister‘s shoulder. “What do you mean? Why would you tell us that minutes before your wedding?” Mother asked.

“Let me explain,” you went on. “Tom showed me that it was the Gaunts who sent the curse. That’s why they found a cure so quickly. And why they didn’t heal her completely.”

Mother gasped faintly, her hand wandered up to her own chest. “You mean…”

“Yes. They chose Elsie specifically so that you and Father would agree to their pact.”

“I… I can’t believe it,” Mother mumbled.

“They made me sick?” Elsie asked, her eyes as big and round as marbles. “On purpose?”

You nodded.

“But why haven’t you told us sooner?” Mother asked. “We could have-”

“I did as much as I could without attracting too much attention. Tom and I, we both assumed that the Gaunts wouldn’t even lift Elsie’s curse after the wedding. And even if they did, I wouldn’t trust them enough to let you drink anything that they would give to her again. So we brewed the antidote ourselves.”

You pulled out the flask and held it up in the air. Mother took it and inspected it for a moment. “You brewed that?”

“Yes. Elsie, take it right now. You will be healed completely then and the Gaunts won’t notice anything.”

“Are you sure it’s safe?” Mother asked. “And what then? What are you going to do?”

“Yes, I’m sure it’s safe. And then,” you looked at the door to the chapel and heaved a sigh. “Then I’ll get married. Stick to the plan.”

“I hope you know what you’re doing,” Mother said as she handed Elsie the flask.

“Would you rather have her drink something that Morfin brewed up? If he would give her anything at all.”

“You’re right,” she said and shook her head.

“Quick Elsie,” you urged her. “Drink up and we’ll be ready to go.”

Elsie nodded as she pulled the cork off the flask, then put her lips around the opening and took a small gulp. She scrunched up her face into a grimace. “Tastes gross.”

“Sorry, princess. They don’t make recipes for strawberry flavoured antidotes yet. Now drink it.”

Elsie exhaled sharply, then threw her head back and let the liquid pour into her mouth. One swig, two. She had it down almost completely when suddenly the door flew open.

“Excuse me ladies, what is taking you so long?” Marvolo asked, standing in the door frame, with Morfin, Father and Tom behind him. Marvolo stared at Elsie, who was just gulping down the last drops from the flask. “What is that? What did you give her?”

The three of you froze, staring back at Marvolo and the other men. Shit.

“Just her vitamins,” you lied. “To make sure she’s well for the ceremony.”

“No, no,” Marvolo huffed as he walked in. “Give me that.” He took the flask from Elsie’s hand and brought it up to his nose. “Morfin, come here.”

Morfin entered the room as well, took a look at the empty flask and smelled it. Father and Tom took several steps in too, filling up the room almost completely. 

“Stop,” Marvolo ordered and held his hand up to Father and Tom. “I didn’t tell you to come in.” The two halted and remained standing by the door. “Now, son. What is it?”

Morfin inspected the remaining liquid inside the flask, shaking it to see the single droplets hanging inside the vial. One side of his mouth pulled up into a ghastly smirk before he spoke through gritted teeth: “Mors Grano antidote.”

Marvolo brought his hand up to his neck, fumbling on the chain that hung there. That must have been where he carried their own flask with the unfinished antidote. It was still there, which visibly confused him. He remained calm, wouldn’t dare to show that he didn’t know how you had done it, his eyes dark and full of anger.

“You little bitch,” he spat. “Morfin, take the child.”

Morfin did as he was told, quicker than any of you could have reacted and pulled Elsie to the middle of the room by the hand, then stepped behind her, one hand around her neck, his wand in his other one, pointed right at Elsie’s head.

Mother cried out when she saw what had happened to her daughter and turned to walk over to her, while Father ran towards Morfin and Elsie as well.

“Stupefy!” Marvolo called, his wand directed at Father, who fell to the ground immediately. “I told you not to step in. No one’s making a move now unless I tell them to.”

Mother fell to her knees, looking at Father unconscious on the ground and Marvolo gaped at her in disgust. “Take your husband. And shut your mouth, or you’ll be lying there with him.”

She pressed her lips shut and crawled over to Father, slowly dragged him to the corner of the room behind you, where she held his head between her hands. Silent tears ran down Elsie’s cheeks, who was still captured between Morfin’s hand and his wand. You had managed to pull out your own wand during the turmoil and looked over at Tom in the doorframe, who had done the same.

Marvolo had noticed the looks you had exchanged and heaved a bitter laugh. “You two, eh? Partners in crime. And what do you think you’re doing there, girl? With your wand out. Do you really think you can defeat me with your schoolbook magic?”

You gripped your wand tighter to prevent your hand from shaking, swallowed down thickly and frowned. There were a million things you wanted to say, thousands of curse words you could have called him, but Morfin still had Elsie between his fingers. “Don’t you underestimate me, Marvolo.”

He clicked his tongue, let his head fall back and laughed wholeheartedly. “Oh, juveniles. Graduated a day ago and think they’ll conquer the world. Well, I got some bad news for you then. But first, you’re going to tell me how you’ve found out about Mors Grano. And how you got a hold of an antidote that isn’t ours.”

You didn’t answer and only looked at Elsie, who breathed rapidly, her hands holding on to Morfin’s grip around her neck.

“I see,” Marvolo sighed and turned his head towards the door. “Tom, would you give us the honour then? Come, stand next to your fiancée.”

Tom walked over silently and placed himself next to you, his hand gripping yours.

“Oh look at that,” Marvolo feigned. “Tragically in love. Now, Tom, explain.”

Tom didn’t answer, only held your hand a bit tighter and you could feel something cold inside of it, something metallic, perhaps.

“No?” Marvolo asked. “You don’t want to tell us? Well, then we’ll have to motivate you. Morfin, go ahead.”

Morfin grinned but didn’t point his wand at Elsie anymore. Instead, he pointed it right at you. “Crucio!”

The pain that rushed through you was unbearable from the moment it had started. You fell to your knees and opened your mouth to scream, but couldn’t even hear yourself or anyone else anymore. A million knives must have pierced your body at once, and they scraped off your skin with rusty blades inch by inch, while your head hammered and stung as if a lightning bolt had struck right into it. Your vision had left you from the pain, everything around you had gone white and you only heard scraps of conversation between the all-consuming buzz that rumbled between your ears. Tom was begging them to stop, you assumed, but couldn’t concentrate on his words anymore, as the pain threatened to crack your skull.

Then, as quickly as it had started, it ended. You opened your eyes slowly, blinked a couple of times when your perception came back and felt a small hand on your cheek. Elsie kneeled above you, next to Tom.

“What happened?” you asked, your voice hoarse, while you sat up groggily.

Marvolo was still standing in his spot, looking down at Morfin, who lay on the ground, holding his leg with both hands. And attached to his thigh, was Nagini, pressing her fangs into him through his trousers.

“Nagini,” you whispered and as soon as you had said her name, the snake let go of Morfin and retracted.

“She crawled out of her box when he hit you with the curse,” Tom said quietly. “And bit him before they could have noticed.”

Tom helped to get you on your feet again and even though your knees were still weak from the Cruciatus Curse, you stood in front of Elsie, to shield her from the Gaunts.

Morfin winced in pain and still held his leg. Nagini’s venom spread quickly, Morfin’s thigh was twitching on its own.

“Father,” Morfin whined. “I need treatment. Help me get home.”

Marvolo looked down at his son, lips parted with an expression of sheer revulsion on his face. “Do you think I have time to take care of your little injuries right now? Suck it up.”

“But… But Father, I can’t feel my leg anymore,” Morfin panted. “I might die when the venom reaches my heart.”

Marvolo sighed and bumped his foot against Morfin’s hurt leg, to which his son screamed. “Then leave.”

Morfin nodded, it must have taken all of his remaining strength not to pass out, and closed his eyes before he apparated, leaving only a few drops of blood on the floor behind.

“Now back to you,” Marvolo said and looked at Tom as if nothing more than a minor inconvenience had just occurred. “Don’t you dare lie to me. You know I can kill everyone in this room within a second.”

Tom still didn’t answer and placed himself in front of Elsie and you, which made Marvolo laugh again.

“Oh, boy. You’d sacrifice yourself? For this family and not your own? I know I’ve raised you differently. You’re a disgrace.”

“You want me to tell you everything?” Tom asked. “Then let me come closer, so I can share all of my secrets.”

Marvolo remained unimpressed at the thought, there was no spell he couldn’t counter. So he rolled his eyes and shrugged. “Come as close as you want, son. But keep your wand up, where I can see it.”

And so Tom went. One step, two, three, four, until he was face to face with his grandfather. Marvolo still eyed Tom’s wand, gripping his own tightly. And then, Tom moved his other hand abruptly, jerking it toward Marvolo’s abdomen once. You couldn’t see from where you stood and only noticed when Marvolo looked down himself and opened his mouth.

“Imperio,” Tom said quietly while Marvolo fell to his knees.

Now that you could see what he had done, you put your hands in front of Elsie’s eyes, holding them closed. Marvolo was bleeding from his stomach and Tom held a bloody knife in his wandless hand.

“I’m just making sure you can’t apparate,” Tom said coldly. “Like uncle did. The coward. I want to see how you die.”

Marvolo looked up at Tom, opened his mouth but didn’t say anything, tears edging on the corners of his eyes. 

“No. You don’t get to talk now,” Tom went on. “Never again. You’re going to listen. And I’m even going to tell you what you wanted to hear. I found a way to tell her what you have done to Elsie. I stole Morfin’s book, and we brewed the antidote ourselves. Oh yes, before I forget, we also stole some Banshee tears from Morfin, while you were out. Scrook and Hokey were very helpful. I even learned some new things this year. Some of them from a muggle-born, can you believe? It got me thinking, you purebloods are so concentrated on magic, you wouldn’t even realise when I’d come up to you with a knife in my hand. And I was right. You didn’t. You see, you called me a bastard so often and reminded me that my father was a muggle. So I thought I’d remind you myself how much of a half-blood I am. Isn’t it awful dying the muggle way? So slowly, so weak.”

Marvolo laid to the side, impacted by the Imperius Curse and opened his mouth, coughing up blood, his eyes half-closed.

“And now, here we are,” Tom whispered. “You did this all to yourself. Good night, Grandfather.”

It took a while until you all had calmed yourselves. Father had woken up some minutes after Marvolo had closed his eyes completely and you had brought Elsie into the chapel, so she wouldn’t have to see the body. Tom, your parents and you hadn’t decided yet what to do with Marvolo. You had thought about leaving him there, or to apparate him to Gaunt manor, where the elves or Morfin could take care of it. If Morfin himself was still alive. 

Mother joined you in the chapel and you took the chance to get some fresh air outside. Only out in the open you noticed that you were still wearing the white dress. What scorn of fate it was to watch someone die on your wedding day. The door opened again behind you and Tom walked out. He had managed to remain composed better than anyone else there, even though he was the one who had killed somebody.

He walked up to you, looking at the ground and only lifted his head when he stood right in front of you. A warm breeze brushed over your skin as the sun was setting. “Are you okay?” he asked.

You nodded. Physically you were. Your mental state was debatable. “I think I am.”

Tom dipped his head once too and loosened his tie. “Are you scared of me after what you’ve seen?” 

You looked him in the eyes, tilting your head slightly. His pupils were extended, brows sitting calmly above. “No,” you answered. “I would have done the same if I had to.”

He bit his lip and nodded, hands inside his pockets before he took them out, held you by your waist and kissed you. All the tension and stress seemed to leave your body for a moment, your shoulders finally relaxing and you wished you could hold on to him like this for an hour. Tom stayed close for a moment, pressed his forehead against yours and sighed. “So,” he said as he took a step back. “The pact is done with. Elsie is cured. You don’t have to marry me anymore.”

A surprised gasp fell from your lips. You hadn’t even thought about that yet. He was right. “I guess I don’t.”

Tom pushed the tip of his shoe through the gravel on the ground, drawing patterns. “But I wanted to know,” he said. “Would you have gone through with it if this had turned out differently? Would you have married me and stayed?”

There was a moment of silence when you thought about it. What answer could anyone give to such a question? You liked him, yes, you would even dare to say you were in love with him. But would you have really married him this quickly if you could have decided yourself?

“Would you?” you asked, to which he smirked. The wind tousled his hair, just like when you had sat with him at the bench back in the Hogwarts’ courtyard. “Why don’t you ask me? Properly I mean.”

Tom’s smirk vanished and he looked at you seriously. He took both of your hands in his, inspecting you closely. He opened his mouth but shut it again to clear his throat. Then he asked: “Do you want to marry me?”

A smile formed on your face, one that he didn’t mirror, as long as you wouldn’t answer him. “No,” you said. 

Tom’s expression didn’t change, but when you looked closely, you noticed that the size of his pupils had decreased, his brows now hanging in confusion. He still held your hands but you could feel him trembling.

“Not yet,” you added, your smile still in place. “Not like this and certainly not today. Not on Marvolo’s terms. Not without my friends and not before we really get to know each other and both decide, on our own, that we want to do it.”

You leaned forward, kissed him once and said: “So, ask me again in a year or two?”

And then, the rarest sight of them all, Tom Riddle smiling genuinely, was given to you. He looked so handsome wearing it and with the orange light from the setting sun on his face when he let your hands go and pulled you in.

“I promise I will.”

Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4 | Part 5 | Part 6 | Part 7 | Part 8 | Part 9 | Part 10 | Part 11 | Part 12 | Part 13 | Part 14 | Part 15 | Part 16 | Part 17 | Masterpost | Masterlist

That was it, the grande finale :3 I truly hope you liked it! There’s still one more part to come, the epilogue, which will hopefully please the majority of you. I see it as a little cherry on top. Please consider leaving a comment and tell me what you think so far :) They motivate me so much to keep writing! Thank you for reading!

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[alluringjae]

[ 23:45 ] ⮕ END   

part of my collection of cookie cuts from all i do is wait

in order to understand, read the main story first here.

pairing: ghost!doyoung x female!reader

genre: angst, sum fluff if you really squint

warnings: death, grief

author’s note: someone asked me how i would interpret this scene, so here it is. this hurt A LOT. have fun though!

leave me some feedback, constructive criticism or hellos!

Mid-1953

At long last, the Korean War has ended after 3 years.

Over 5 million people dead, and to be one of the lucky survivors was a miracle.

The remaining soldiers who’ve fought through it all could return home, whilst civilians can properly rebuild all that was devastatingly destroyed in their cities. Their own normal lives included.

The fiercest 3 years of your life must you say, too engaged with self-studying your history books saved pre-war while dealing with the bargaining stage of your grief towards Doyoung. Every day, you couldn’t go on without overthinking the what-ifs. On top of that, your toddler Areum was at the stage where she loved creating a mess on the walls with her crayons. No matter how many times you’ve corrected her because it wasn’t your house, she continued anyway.

Now, she’s full-blown crying after you confiscated them and you’re on the verge of it. Thankfully, your mother stepped in to take her out for a walk in the neighborhood so you could unwind for a bit.

Since news broke out that the war ended, everyone from every street cheered and danced on the streets. You hailed with praise along with them, positive that things were going to get better. Yet deep down, you’ve selfishly wished that he was one of the lucky few to come home.

If only you didn’t chicken out so easily after he told you he was enlisting so you had a few more seconds with him.

If only you compromised him to join another field.

If only you told him about Areum earlier so he could go home.

These thoughts revolved your mind the most, instantly getting you to break down wherever you were. Even photos of him and you together were enough to tear down your walls. So, they remained hidden until the day you’re in a much better state of mind.

Dear god, you longed for him. Everything that consists of him.

In hopes to forget this tremendous loss in your life, you poured hot tea in a cup and started on this new book from this ongoing series, The Chronicles of Narnia. Getting it during this harsh period was tough, bartering it with old books you’ve owned in the market.

Fully preoccupied in the fantastical universe, flipping the pages quickly, you almost missed the continuous knocking on your door. You let out a tiny gasp and made your way to the entrance. As delusional to think it was Doyoung, you knew it wasn’t your mother and Areum either because they would’ve simply walked in. Opening it anyways, you were met by two young tall men. One had a bandage on his cheek while the other had a cast on his right arm. Noting their growing hair, they must’ve fought in the war.

Oh, if Doyoung was one of them.

“Hello, may I know who you two are?”

The one with the bandage spoke up, bowing first. “Hello, I am Lee Taeyong and this is my friend, Kim Jungwoo. We were good friends of your late lover, Kim Doyoung.”

Late lover.

Haven’t heard that since people in the neighborhood gossiped about your taboo pregnancy, but it’s not like they knew anyways. But from the letters exchanged with Doyoung before, he talked about these two highly. Whenever there were times of ease while serving, Doyoung was always up to mischievous things with these two. In a situation where they had to man up, they brought out his inner child.

“Oh, yes! Doyoung used to talk about you two in his letters, but I had no clue how you guys looked.”

By instinct, you invited them inside for tea by the patio. You’ve always wanted to meet them despite the circumstances. Bringing in a tray with a teapot and treats, mostly you were inquiring about their lives. Aside from knowing their positions in the team, you learned of their new plans moving forward.

“I want to return to university to finish my studies in mechanical engineering, maybe travel the world too.” Jungwoo stated, blowing on his cup before sipping it. He’s said to be an organized man according to Doyoung, always cautious of his surroundings. It balanced out his liveliness.

“Me too! I want to complete my major in finance, then marry my childhood sweetheart after a few years.” Taeyong expounded, his round eyes glowed in wonder. He must’ve been looking forward to this day, and you were content for him. Meanwhile, it processed to Taeyong what he said, realizing that it may have been insensitive.

“Shit, I’m sorry,” He burst out instantly. “I got stuck in my feelings there.”

“It’s okay, nothing to worry about. You shouldn’t apologize for how you feel.”

“I do think we should feel worried about you though.” Jungwoo interrupted, sighing heavily. “What happened with Doyoung-hyung all those years ago, we’re really concerned for you especially.”

At the mention of the painful memory, this wasn’t the right time to crumble. You weren’t capable to show your vulnerability to anyone but yourself. Plastering a wrenching pretend smile, “I appreciate the concern, truly. But I’ll be okay again. I’m planning to return to university too, then proceed to law school. A shared dream of mine and his.”

Taeyong and Jungwoo transparently viewed you like glass, coping with the grief of it. They were on the same page as you, and unaware to you, they knew his final words. With their interpretation, it only felt right to reach out to you. Befriend you, aid you in any possible way.

At the end of the day, three of you equally shared the suffering over the death of a loved one.

Sitting in peaceful silence, the front door creaked open followed by a tiny, high-pitched voice squealing.

“We’re home!” Your mother shouted.

“I’m at the patio, we have guests over!” You replied, pouring more tea for the two quiet boys.

From such a low-spirited atmosphere only did it liven up when an energetic Areum came into your setting. She had pigtails this time, satisfying herself with fresh bungeo-ppang from the neighborhood. No matter what you’re feeling, it took a single glance of her with her small moon-like eyes to recharge you.

“Mom, who are your friends here?” She pondered cluelessly.

The two boys exchanged looks at each other first, then to you in one breath. Their expressions of perplexity by how one’s hand was on their mouth and the other boy couldn’t stop staring at Areum, you identified exactly what they were thinking of.

“Areum, these are your dad’s friends in the army.” You animatedly confirmed. “The one with that tiny bandage on his face is uncle Taeyong, and the one with the white cast is uncle Jungwoo.”

Doyoung’s death was already so heavy to take in, but upon discovering this hidden surprise, Jungwoo wiped his tears on his sleeve. But you were fast to hand him some tissue. He was younger than you, so your older sister instincts kicked in.

“This is unjust, (Y/N).” He murmured across you so Areum won’t pick up his words. Your lips pressed against each other, maintaining a straight face at him. He was right.

With Taeyong, his arms spread out wide for the small girl who willingly walked to him. He loved children, having a nephew back home. He caressed her smooth hair down to her jaw. The first thing he distinguished was her pretty eyes followed by her squishy cheeks, resembling so much of his late friend.

“You’re so pretty, Areum. Did your mom tell you that you mirror so much of your dad?”

“Yes, she does! But I’ve never met him and I don’t when I will, uncle Taeyong.”

A tragedy how the splitting image of his best friend doesn’t see what everyone sees. But again, she’s only 3 and she can only process so much. She doesn’t know the real truth behind her father’s location, except that he was working far, far away. There are days she’d ask if he’d come back soon, yet your only response is not now. This isn’t the right time for her purity about life to stain.

“Well Areum,” Jungwoo gathered his senses again, crouching down to her level. “As his friends, we know that you look just like him! Prettier even.”

“Really? Tell me more about him, uncle Jungwoo!”

It’s about time someone else shared stories about your late lover because yours was short-lived. It’s even more intriguing to listen to what other people have to say about Doyoung that weren’t his parents. Some stories told by Taeyong and Jungwoo were new to you too, giggling along to their ridiculousness when they’re not training or fighting. Loving their presence, you invited them to stay for dinner with your family, which they couldn’t reject.

What started as a tense conversation transformed into a heartwarming experience. These two boys earned a spot in your life, aspiring for longtime friendships with them. The tender way they cherished for Areum like they’re own after meeting for the first time, it’ll fill in bits of her void. In exchange, they insisted to chip in for you and her lives so it wouldn’t be just you and your family. Struggling already with the consequences of the war, it only felt proper to do so.

“Doyoung has always been there for us, now let us return the favor and be there for you and Areum.”

Your protests were deemed useless, so you allowed them to do so. Once you finished law school and take the exams, you could pay them back. It’s phenomenal how Doyoung’s good influence towards others multiplied even after his passing. Maybe if you began to view things this way, you’d recover sooner. Although he’ll always be in your thoughts, it wouldn’t be as sensitive as it is now.

For now, you’re just going to enjoy the bliss Taeyong and Jungwoo brought, retelling old tales of a drunk Doyoung on the dining table.

From behind your garden fence in secret, Doyoung secretly observed as his treasured companions interacted at last with positivity. His only daughter mirroring his adored smile, he lived in that moment vicariously through her.

What a good time to visit today, truly.

[master-sass-blast]

Children of the Gods: Part Three, Chapter Three.

The final installment of my 100th CHC fic!

Summary: The fallout of Artemis's reveal --that she's the daughter of your uncle and Alexandra--is nothing short of an emotional mess.

The wine makes it goes easier, at least.

Pairing(s): Piotr Rasputin x Reader, Alexandra Rasputin x Nikolai Rasputin, and past Alexandra Rasputin x Original Male Character (mentioned).

Rating: This chapter gets a T because while there’s mentions of emotional and childhood trauma, it doesn’t have the violence of the previous two chapters.

Word Count: 3.7k.

Set after “Children of the Gods: Part Three, Chapter Two.”

Taglist: @marvel-is-perfection, @chromecutie, @super-darkcloudstudent, @girl-obsessed-with-things, @leo-writer, @emma-frxst, @sadstone-s

Getting Alex off your uncle is no small feat. It takes both Piotr and Mikhail to manhandle her away so she can’t beat your uncle half to death –which, considering the situation, might be warranted—and then it takes a lot of soothing from Nikolai before either of her sons let her go.

Then Alex starts yelling at your uncle again, and he starts yelling back, and both their voices are so loud that they start drawing out other members of the X-Men, who wind up staring at the debacle with confused, alarmed expressions on their faces—

You clap your hands together. “Okay! Who wants to go back to my house for, like, so much wine?”

***

“You fucking piece of lying shit—”

“I didn’t lie—”

“A lie by omission is still a fucking lie!”

You grimace as you watch your uncle and Alex through the sliding doors. Told you so.

The two of them are currently out on the back deck. Alex is snarling at your uncle, who’s slumped into one of the deck chairs and generally looks like he wants the Earth to swallow him whole.

The rest of you are in the kitchen, gathered around the island counter --save for Allison, who’s tucked under a blanket on your living room couch to get some much needed rest.

(You’d offered it up upon seeing how haggard the teen looked, and Artemis had accepted on the girl’s behalf.)

You grimace, then start grabbing wine glasses out of the cabinet. “I think we’ve got some white left, and a bottle of rose tucked away somewhere. Who wants what?”

“You had concussion,” Piotr reminds you as he helps you collect enough glasses. “No alcohol.”

“Yeah, that’s why I’ll have grape juice,” you say, poking him in the side. “I just want it in a wine glass.”

Mikhail spins around on a barstool. “Anything heavier?”

“Nyet,” Piotr replies, shooting his brother a mildly annoyed look.

Nikolai shrugs and says, “Either is fine,” when you turn to him.

Illyana passes when you offer a glass to her, which just leaves—

Artemis, who’s standing stiffly at the edge of the counter (having returned from tucking her ward in and making sure she’s okay) and glaring at you so hard you’re surprised you’re not smoking yet.

Well, here goes nothing. You hold up a wine glass and look at her in question –and when she doesn’t answer (or so much as change her expression) you let out an annoyed huff through your nose. You grab the bottle of white, fill the glass halfway, and set it in front of her before looking her directly in the eye and saying, “I’m not here to be your competition.”

Artemis recoils slightly, clearly caught off guard. She sputters, eyes widening. “I –he –he abandoned me—”

“Which I already called him out on, and I’ll do it again when she’s done with him,” you say, jerking your thumb in the direction of the deck. “I’m not here to compete with you –and, what’s more, I’m not interested in you making me your competition.”

“‘Me making you my competition?’” Artemis sputters, face going red with rage. “Out of the two of us, you’re the only one he’s ever shown any interest in! He bent over fucking backwards to try and help you!”

“Yeah, and he was wrong to do that to you,” you say, spreading your arms as if to say ‘I don’t know what else to do here.’ “I’m not sure what else I have to do to get it through your head that I’m on your side.”

Artemis shakes her head, scowling. She picks up her wine glass, downs half of it, then grumbles, “I knew my father had replaced me, and it turns out my mother went and did the same thing. Fucking fantastic.” 

Illyana, Piotr, and Mikhail all recoil—

Nick interjects before a fight can break out. “I do not think that is good way to think of family.”

Artemis ducks her head, cheeks flushing in embarrassment. She takes another swig of wine. “You don’t know what it’s like to be forgotten.”

“I do not,” Nick concedes, holding his hands up in a placating gesture. “But, I assure you, you were never forgotten.”

“Reality says otherwise,” Artemis mutters through gritted teeth.

Nick watches her for a moment. He takes a sip of wine, then says, “November 15th is your birthday, da?”

Artemis looks up at him slowly. Her eyes narrow. “How would you know that?”

“Because Alexandra remembers,” Nikolai answers with a sad smile. He slowly swirls the wine around in his glass, watching the liquid spin before lifting his eyes to Artemis once more. “She has not forgotten once. You are thirty-nine this year, da?”

Artemis flinches like she’s been struck. She swallows visibly, eyes shining with unshed tears, and nods.

Nick nods, then takes another sip of wine. “She gets you present every year, things that she thought you would like or wished she could have experienced with you. She keeps them in box at our home. Every single one.”

“Why—” Artemis swallows hard, chin trembling. “Why did she never look for me?”

“Because,” Nikolai sighs. “To her knowledge, you were dead. She had no reason to believe you were alive --and, during that time, she did not necessarily have presence of mind to search for you.” His mouth tightens into a grimace, gaze going distant. “It was very bad time for her.”

You lean against Piotr, taking your hand in his.

His trembling fingers curl around yours.

Nick looks up at Artemis, gaze sharpening. “There has not been one day that you have not been in my wife’s heart.”

“And what about your heart?” Artemis fires back. The wine ripples in her glass, belying her shaking hands. “You married my mother, had a family with her, and now I’m back when you thought I was dead. I’m sure this is a big, ugly wrench in your perfect life.”

Mikhail, Piotr, and Illyana all stare at Artemis, then look to their father to gauge his reaction.

Nikolai’s lips tug into a saddened frown. “Is that what you have told yourself all these years?”

Artemis recoils, expression flickering between anguish and rage. “I—”

“Allow me to enlighten you on my ‘perfect life,’” Nikolai interrupts, voice hardening. He sets his glass on the counter, then braces his hands against the stone surface and leans towards Artemis. “I have watched my wife suffer every single day –if not from the aftershocks of being abused by KGB, then from trauma from being foisted over to mafia families as a weapon. We have had to isolate our children” –he puts an arm around Illyana’s shoulders when she steps over to him— “to ensure their status as mutants was not discovered, considering what had happened to Alexandra. Our life has not been perfect, or easy, or anything you have told yourself in making us out as your enemies.”

Artemis narrows her eyes at him –though there’s no missing the tears slowly working their way past her dark, thick lashes. “I appreciate your life has been difficult, sir, but the reality is most men aren’t too happy when random bastard children pop into their lives.”

Nikolai’s expression softens. He shrugs. “You have never been a bastard to me.”

“Your wife had me with another man—”

“Before she and I were together, and she told me about the relationship and what she knew about you,” Nick interjects. “There was no issue of infidelity –and, even if there were, I would not punish you for it.”

“So –what?” Artemis spreads her arms in jerky, agitated movements. “I’m just a part of your family now? No questions asked?”

“If that is what you want, then yes.”

“Why?” Artemis’s voice cracks as she asks the question. She swipes the back of her hand across her eyes, desperately trying to hide the evidence of her frustration. “You don’t know me. You –you don’t have a fucking stake in my life. Why do you even care?”

Nikolai goes quiet for several moments. He stares at his glass of wine –almost meditatively. He picks up the glass and takes another sip of wine, then says, “My mother had two rose bushes on our farm.”

Artemis rolls her eyes, face creasing with irritation—

“They were for her miscarried daughters,” he continues, ignoring Artemis’s annoyed expressions. “She planted roses as memorial, so she would always have her children close at hand.” He pauses when Artemis scoffs, then adds, “When Alexandra revealed she had lost you, we placed a third bush next to my mother’s roses, so that Alex could always have you close, too.”

Artemis’s face sobers, then creases again as she tries to keep from crying.

“Alexandra wanted hydrangeas, though,” Nick adds after a moment, almost as a nonsensical afterthought. “She did not like the look of roses as much.” He watches Artemis as she ducks her head in shame, then says in a soft, gentle voice, “My wife loves you very much. As such, I love you –not in the same way, of course, but it’s love all the same. And while I never suspected you might be alive, I have learned over the years that life can be very… unpredictable. I was always ready for possibility that you would show up one day, no matter how slim chance was; as far as I was concerned, if Alex ever found you and brought you home, you would be my daughter and grow up with my children. No questions asked.”

Artemis draws in a wet, shaky breath—

And then the sliding doors open.

Alex strides in, followed by your uncle (who looks properly mollified). She takes one look at the lot of you gathered around the kitchen island –and then her gaze lands on Artemis. She stares at her daughter for a moment, then spreads her arms in a shrug. “We have shit to talk about.”

Artemis scrubs more tears from her face and nods. “Yeah. We do.”

Alex jerks her thumb towards the deck, then follows Artemis out the back door. 

You wait until the sliding door latches shut –then turn and promptly elbow your uncle in the side.

“Fuck,” he hisses as he clutches at the ribs. “Punk –what the hell!”

“She thinks you picked me as a replacement daughter,” you snap back, glaring at him. “That’s ‘what the hell!’ Not to mention –you knew she was alive all this time!”

Nick’s gaze settles on your uncle, eyes cold and flinty. His mouth curls into a disdainful scowl. “This is true?”

Your uncle sighs, deflating as he plops down onto a barstool. “I fucked this up. I know I did.” He runs his hands through his hair, then spreads his arms in defeat. “Yes, I knew. Can I please have some wine now?”

“I’m tempted to say no,” you snark back while Piotr –ever the more hospitable of the two of you—pours him a glass. “Seriously, though… what the fuck?”

Your uncle sighs and pinches the bridge of his nose. “It’s complicated.”

“Does not seem complicated,” Nick says, voice going razor sharp while he glares at your uncle. “Not in terms of action.”

Your uncle pales, squirming slightly in his seat. “I… the birth was a shitshow. The U.S. took her in hopes of having a replacement for me, but she was a late presenter and they didn’t have the money for a training program, so they cut her loose into the foster system. I didn’t even know she was alive until she was nearly ten.”

“And then?” you prompt when he doesn’t offer up anything else. “Come on. You already told me. May as well rip off the bandaid and get it over with for everyone else.”

“And then… and then my life wasn’t fit for raising a kid. And then I was always on the run and the government knew her name and whereabouts and I didn’t want to risk them catching me through her or using her against me. And then…” He grimaces, expression shifting to something guiltier, more self-directed. “And then I was worried about my niece, who I knew my former handlers were looking at as a surefire replacement for me.” He knocks back a third of his wine, then says in a hoarse, exhausted voice, “She was out. You weren’t. I… I made my choices.”

Something uneasy settles in your stomach. You can understand your uncle’s motives, and that sometimes the current of life is beyond what one person can sail through on their own, and that sometimes things fall through the cracks because no matter how much you do, you can’t save everything, but…

It shouldn’t have had to be this way.

“Why not tell your daughter this?” Piotr asks, tone more diplomatic than anything you can conjure up right now.

“Being bad at confrontation runs in my bloodline,” your uncle mutters, slumping over the counter as he continues sucking down his wine.

“Bullshit,” you fire back. “I’m great at fighting people.”

“That’s not—”

“She thinks you replaced her with me,” you repeat, crouching down so you can look your uncle in the eye. You smile at him, raising your eyebrows as if to say ‘I’m only being nice right now because I’m too tired and sore to physically kick your ass so get your shit together, dickhead.’ “Take it from someone who knows: feeling like your parents don’t want you hurts. A lot.”

Your uncle flinches, grimacing. “That was below the belt.”

Illyana shrugs. “Seems to land just fine to me.”

Your uncle scowls, but doesn’t comment otherwise.

“All of that aside,” Nikolai interjects, staring your uncle down, “if you hurt Alexandra like that again, you’ll answer to me.”

Your uncle has the grace and good sense to merely gulp and nod in response.

Before anyone can say anything else (and really, how the hell do you follow that), the back door slides open and Alexandra and Artemis walk back into the kitchen. Both women’s eyes and noses are noticeably red and swollen, and Artemis is still wiping tears off her cheeks.

Alex stops short of the counter, holding her arm out to her daughter (who, in turn, tucks herself against Alex’s side like a baby duckling). She sweeps her gaze across her other three children, then says, “I’m sure you all have questions.”

“Otets and… Andrew covered most of it,” Piotr murmurs as he puts an arm around your shoulders (which you know is largely to comfort himself)

Alex looks to her husband, then nods when he nods. “Alright… do you… have any other questions? Comments? Concerns?”

“Are you two still in love?” Mikhail blurts, gesturing between your uncle and his mother –at least, until Illyana punches him in the shoulder. “Ow! Vyrezh'te eto!”

Alex merely smiles and rolls her eyes while Nikolai tuts at their daughter. “If I was, I wouldn’t have married your father.”

Your uncle, on the other hand, slumps down further and keeps draining his wine glass –until he realizes that all three Rasputin children are staring at him. He straightens up, sets down the glass, clears his throat, and says, “I’m very happy for your parents’ marriage, and I’m just as content to be single. Happy now?”

You roll your eyes. Fuck’s sake.

“What happened during birth?” Illyana asks (which makes both your uncle and Nikolai grimace slightly). “How did they manage to take her away?”

It’s a fair question, you suppose. Even with the immense task of childbirth, you still struggle to think of what would hobble Alex enough to keep her away from her baby.

Alex’s expression sours. Her gaze goes distance, right cheek twitching as she sifts through the murky waters of recollection. “...It’s not important,” she decides. Her eyes sharpen again, and she sighs quietly before rolling her shoulders to release tension.

“Then, why did you never tell us?” Illyana presses, expression pinched with confusion and worry.

Nikolai sighs, then kisses the top of his youngest’s blonde head. “Snezhinka…”

“It’s alright,” Alex interjects, assuring her husband. “It’s a fair question.” Her mouth quirks to the side for a moment as she mulls over just how to respond. “...It wasn’t an appropriate story for when you three were younger --and it’s… not a time of my life I like to remember.” She looks up, gazing passing over her other three children. “I am so sorry you had to find out this way. If I’d known, I would’ve told you.”

“It’s okay,” Piotr murmurs. “It’s not your fault.”

Alex’s gaze flicks over to your uncle (who’s doing a very good job of pretending to inspect the glass quality of his wine glass). She scowls, then smooths her expression back out when she looks back at her children. “All the same.”

“Is complicated situation,” Nikolai allows (and you’re starting to see where Piotr gets his diplomatic side from).

You all grunt in agreement; ‘complicated’ seems like a damn understatement at this point.

“What… what does this mean for holidays? Family gatherings?” Piotr asks in a quiet voice.

Alex looks to Nikolai, then at Artemis. “I think that depends on what everyone’s comfortable with.”

“I expressed that she” –Nick nods to Artemis—“will always be welcome in our home.”

“Your home isn’t just yours,” Artemis mutters, pointedly avoiding looking at the three Rasputin children.

Nikolai glances at his sons and daughter. “Chto zh? Chto vy dumayete?”

“I always felt like more of middle child than eldest,” Mikhail comments with a shrug. He knocks back the last of his wine, then looks over at Artemis and asks, “Is real name actually ‘Artemis?’”

“It’s a code name,” she answers, “for my mercenary work. The foster home I was raised in gave me the name ‘Maria.’ The supervisor liked using religious names to help ‘inspire us wayward souls to righteous living.’”

A bout of groans, ranging from unimpressed to irritated, goes up in the kitchen.

“At any rate, I don’t use it,” she adds. “Makes it too easy for US officials to track me down, since that was my registered name as a kid. Artemis is fine. It’s how Allison knows me, so it’s what I’ll be using. Keep things more stable for her that way.”

Mikhail nods contemplatively. “Good name for sister.” He raises his empty glass to Artemis when she looks up at him, startled, then reaches for the nearest wine bottle.

“I think,” Piotr says as he shifts the wine out of his brother’s reach (which gets an indignant grunt out of Mikhail), “that adjusting will take time, but… I am not opposed.” He offers Artemis a gentle smile. “You are family –if you want to be.”

Artemis nods back minutely, then glances nervously at Illyana.

The youngest Rasputin stares at the assassin for a long, silent moment, expression inscrutable. She slowly rounds the counter, until she’s mere inches away from Artemis. She sizes the older woman up for a moment, then says, slowly and clearly, “I have been only girl for nearly twenty years. If you leave me with these two dipshits” –she jerks her thumb back at Piotr and Mikhail, who let out offended squawks—“I will hunt you down and perform blood oath that will soul bind as family well into afterlife. Got it?”

Artemis’s eyes widen, but she manages to nod all the same.

Alex sighs and pinches the bridge of her nose. “Fucking Christ.”

“I think that is ‘warm welcome’ to family,” Nikolai chuckles as he shakes his head.

“Is true,” Mikhail says as he fishes an apple out of the fridge. He takes a bite, then adds, “She shows love through death threats and pain.”

“Bozhe, zakroy rot, kogda zhuyesh',” Piotr gripes, dropping his head into his hands.

“Safe to say you’re in,” Alex says, sighing exasperatedly at her three other children before smiling at Artemis. She tugs her eldest in for a hug and gently kisses the top of her head.

For a moment, Artemis looks like she’s going to cry. She hugs Alex back briefly, then steps back and does her best to recover. “I –I need to get Allie home. She needs to recover.”

“Right. Where are you planning on taking her?”

You lean against your husband as the two women and your uncle start talking about safe houses and reconnaissance –then laugh tiredly when Mikhail starts trying to juggle knives while eating his apple, much to Piotr’s annoyance.

Such as it is, you wouldn’t trade your family for any other one on the face of the planet.

***

“Are you okay?”

You’re curled up in bed with your husband, nestled in each other’s comforting embraces.

The sun has long since set, plunging the world into the gentle night. The lamp on Piotr’s bedside table is the only source of light, bathing your bedroom in a warm, dim glow.

In the distance, you can hear cars rumbling by. Crickets chirping in the underbrush. Somewhere, an owl hoots overhead.

Now that you’re home, away from the evidence of the day’s chaos, you can’t process it. It feels like a bad dream. Or a really weird movie.

Piotr sighs. His fingers brush against your skin in slow, even movements up and down your arm. “I am alive. I have you. I think that is enough.”

“It’s a good start,” you murmur before pressing a gentle kiss against his burly shoulder. “How do you feel about Artemis?”

“Weird,” Piotr admits as he tucks some of your hair behind your ear. “But… not bad.”

“That’s alright,” you assure him. “It’s a big change; it’s okay to feel weird about it.”

“Your cousin is my half-sister.”

You let out a tired chuckle. “Yeah, that’s pretty weird.” You kiss his chest –then prop yourself up on one warm. “Can I see them?”

Piotr sighs. “Myshka…”

“I just want to check—”

“I am fine.”

“I want to kiss your ‘boo-boos’ better.” You give him the best begging look you can muster up, and even bat your eyelashes a little. “Please?”

Piotr relents. He strips out of his shirt, wincing, and bares his back to you.

His pale skin is mottled with deep, angry, plum-colored welts from where the gatling gun bullets ricocheted off him.

You barely let your fingers ghost over the web of bruises –you don’t want to risk hurting him since you know he’s sore—then shift up the bed so you can start kissing his injuries one by one. You start at the top of his left shoulder, slowly working down his back as you brush your lips against each bruised spot, murmuring “I love you’s” and other bits of praise as you go.

Piotr sighs into his pillow and slowly relaxes against the bed. 

[bjornthorsson20]

My Big Clumsy Knight

CW: Character death / Death of a loved one / Grief

One of my earliest memories of him is seeing his teary-eyed smiling face as he held me as a baby. The adoration that shone in those cobalt irises told me I was loved long before I was brought into this world.

The way I could make him cry so many tears of joy just from smiling in that silly way all babies do. How he would caress my hair gently and pepper my face with little kisses letting me know he treasured me more than anything.

I took my first steps in front of him. He looked so proud, clapping his hands animatedly to spur me on, growing more and more excited the closer I got to his waiting embrace. He held me high and told me I had made him the happiest he had ever been, with my only response being that single word he loved to hear me say each and every time.

Daddy.

Every birthday felt more special than the last. He would gather everyone he could to help make sure that it was the best day ever. We would dance and sing in a way that was just ours. He told me I was his princess. I told him he was my big clumsy knight. He gave me that laugh that was so contagious I couldn't help but follow along, and told me that he loved me. I never got sick of hearing him say it.

We would try out every new idea he had to make our days fun. We would dress up; roleplay a lot of adventures; learn a new language; invent a new way of speaking to make our conversations top secret; play pranks on others; write stories; doodle our family and friends in all sorts of scenarios; test jokes on family gatherings.

There were days he would honor his "clumsy" title. He would stumble, fall and then look totally embarrassed by his fumbling. I would always give him a hug to reassure him that everything we did was still perfect because it was with him, and I loved him.

Then one day, I was sent to Hogwarts, which meant I couldn't see him as much. But we always managed to owl each other whenever we could to come up with all the crazy things we would do once we were together again.

I knew even before going to Hogwarts that he was a big deal in the wizarding world, war hero status and all. But that never mattered to me and I never let that change who I was or took advantage of that. To me, he was my big clumsy knight and I wouldn't have him any other way.

He came back to working with Uncle George after I left for school, and whenever there was a Hogsmeade trip he would bring me a new product they had invented and were about to start selling, telling me I was their number one customer. I loved seeing his creativity in every single one of those inventions and kept them near to my heart.

The holidays meant time for new ideas to be explored and new experiments to be done. We learned to play guitar together, and he tried showing me a piece on the piano. He wasn't very good - told me the last time he tried it was before he and Mum were even together - but it was still music to my ears. He could make even a barely decent performance sound fun and engaging.

Years passed. We got older, but we never lost the drive for the fun times together. I graduated, got a boyfriend - Dad didn't like him much at first, but he came around eventually - and began making my way through adult life. I got a job and a place to live. My boyfriend proposed to me in an unnecessarily elaborate way, but it was perfect all the same.

My wedding is a day I can still recount vividly. Daddy couldn't take his eyes off of me, and he was trying so hard not to cry that it would almost be funny if my own eyes weren't completely blurred by tears. He walked me down the aisle, placed my hand on my husband's and told him to take good care of his princess. I told him he would still forever be my knight. My big clumsy knight, he finished for me with that infectious chuckle. The dance we shared later that night was so magical, I wish it had never ended. He held me close with the same graceful gentleness of the man who first had me in his arms two decades ago.

I started a family. He loved them just as much as he did me. We engaged them in our fun times and showed them all of the whimsical journeys we partook in years prior. Even after almost six decades of life, he still moved and breathed like a man in his prime.

But nearing his 80 years, we started to see the signs of frailty that signified that he'd perhaps leave us sooner than expected. At family gatherings, he no longer ran around the way he did with me, but instead his movements were weak, more patient. Seeing a man once so full of life become so fragile was a kind of pain that was hard to process.

We visited him even more frequently, his smile never faltering each time we came through the fireplace, but his eyes were tired and slowly emptying. He could still tell his grandchildren all kinds of stories and anecdotes about his life, as far back as his childhood, but now his voice was quiet and slow, with a distinct rasp. Mum looked so exhausted and the trails left by tears were evident on her face.

On his last day with us, I hugged him tighter than usual, being careful still, while he told me it was okay to let it all out. I cried the hardest I’ve ever cried while he caressed my hair the same as when I was just a baby. We played out one last tale, him as my knight and me as his princess. He kissed my forehead and told me he would be watching over me every day.

He passed away peacefully in his sleep at 81 years of age, just a month shy of my wedding anniversary. Mum found him later with a final smile etched upon his face. Seeing that coffin slowly descend into the ground was one of the hardest images that have imprinted themselves into my memory.

It's now been five years since he's been gone and I miss him every single day of my life. We visit his resting place every year and I can see Mum thinking when it's gonna be her time.

I take comfort knowing that wherever he is, I know one day we'll be reunited. He'll stumble and fall and look embarrassed by his fumbling. And I'll be there to hug him tight and tell him all is well because I love him so much. My big clumsy knight.

[sfb123]

Sapere Aude - Part 8

Book: The Royal Heir

Pairing: King Liam Rys x Queen Riley Brooks

All characters belong to Pixelberry.

Catch Up Here

Series Description: I developed a theory of what I think will happen in TRH Book 4, and I was encouraged by some very lovely people to turn my theory into a fic, so here it is. Basically, Riley is recruited to join the Via Imperii, this series will follow her as she joins them to try and bring them down from the inside, and all of the drama and bombshells she learns along the way. Sapere Aude is Latin for “dare to know” it seemed like an appropriate title.

Rating: PG-13 Adult language, allusions to smut (but nothing graphic), discussions of death, conspiracy, blackmail, and other adult themes.

Warning: The Royal Heir Book 3 Spoilers all over the place.

Word Count: 2,314

Notes: Sorry. This was such a draining chapter to write. I tried to throw some fluff into the beginning, but overall it's a heavy ass chapter. Just remember, this is what you all asked for!

Shout out to my pre-reading possy, @texaskitten30 and @txemrn, and @twinkleallnight​ for my moodboard!

Tags: Meh, they're down there and in the comments. Maybe you'll get them, maybe you won't. Who the fuck knows anymore. If you want to be added or removed, let me know.

The royal family had a wonderful couple of hours together, after Riley and Eleanor returned from Valtoria. Eleanor gifted Liam a picture that she drew for him while she was away. Liam loved it, he loved all of the pictures his daughter made for him. This one would join the others, proudly displayed in his office so that he could brag about Eleanor’s talent to every person that wanted to meet with the King. Some royals made you ‘kiss the ring’ if you wanted something from them, Liam made you look at a gallery of his daughter’s artwork. He was such a proud father. 

They sat on the couch together as Eleanor told stories about her adventures with Uncle Drake over the weekend. Liam sat, listening intently with one arm draped over Riley’s shoulders, occasionally pressing a kiss to her temple. Not only did he know that she was suffering in silence with all of the information she had gathered over the weekend, but he had missed his wife. He missed looking at her, touching her, just being close to her. She missed it too, and made sure to stay snuggled as close to his side as she possibly could, they always found comfort in each other, and comfort was something that she desperately needed in that moment. 

Before they knew it, Drake had returned and picked up Eleanor to spend the night in Ramsford. Riley and Liam said their goodbyes to the pair and returned to their living room to talk. Riley took a deep breath to center herself.

“So I take it, you told Drake?” Liam turned to face her. 

“I’m so sorry Liam, I know you wanted to wait until we had more information before we brought anyone else into it. I just left that party, and everything was so horrible, and I couldn’t call you, and I was all alone and I…” 

Liam pulled Riley close, placing one hand on her cheek, brushing it with his thumb. “Hey, calm down, deep breaths. It’s ok, I’m not upset with you.” He kissed her lips gently. “If there was anyone we could trust with this, it’s Drake.”

She silently nodded and pulled out of Liam’s embrace, taking a seat on the couch and motioning for him to join her. “You’re going to want to sit down Liam. Please sit down.” Liam sat next to her, and she immediately took his hands in hers. Just rip off the band-aid. Get the big stuff out of the way first. “Liam, your mother, she’s alive.” 

She felt Liam’s hands clench in hers, and saw his body stiffen. Silence filled the room, and Riley let it happen. He needed to process this his way, in his time, she was just there for support. “That woman,” Liam refused to refer to her as his mother, and he certainly wouldn’t use her name. As far as he was concerned, there was only one Eleanor worth anything in his life, and she had just left with Drake. “died a long time ago. She was poisoned. You were given misinformation.”

“Liam, she’s alive. I met with her.” She watched his face go through every emotion possible before finally settling on hurt and sadness. 

“You met my moth...her?” A single tear fell down Liam’s face, he looked like a heartbroken child, and it tied Riley’s insides in knots. 

She looked down and nodded her head. “She’s in charge of the Via Imperii in Cordonia. She’s their president.” 

Liam shot up from his seat and began pacing the room. “She brought me into this world, deceived me, and used that deceit to plot my downfall? This will not stand. She has committed treason, she needs to be taken into custody immediately.”

“Liam, you can’t…”

“I don’t give a damn if they release the tape!” He bellowed, interrupting her. 

Riley had never seen Liam this angry, this hurt. She knew telling him was going to be bad, but there was no way she could prepare herself for the sight before her. She approached him tentatively and took his face in both of her hands, stopping him in his tracks and forcing him to look her in the eyes. “Liam, we can’t arrest her because then everyone will know she’s alive. We can hold Barthelemy because of everything else that was on that hard drive, but Godfrey would be released. We can’t let that happen, he’s clearly an enemy of the crown, a cell is the best place for him.”

There was another long silence, and then, Liam’s emotional dam broke. He collapsed to the floor, sobbing. Riley followed him, getting on her knees and collecting him in her arms, holding him close, and letting him cry. They stayed that way for several moments, Liam sobbing while Riley rubbed soothing circles on his back and pressed kisses to the top of his head, hoping the embrace would help relax him. 

He finally broke the silence, speaking through sobs. “I spent...my life...grieving her.” He pulled away from Riley, looking in her eyes. She felt her heart tighten at the sight of his red eyes and tear stained cheeks. “I spent my life thinking she loved me, but I clearly meant nothing to her.” 

“Liam, she loved you...she loves you. I could see it in the way she spoke about you.” She gently wiped the tears from his face. “Those letters, those journal entries we found, they were all real. She genuinely felt all of those things for you.” She watched the confusion in Liam’s eyes, he was clearly torn on how he should receive this information. She knew there was more she had to tell him, but she wasn’t sure if he would be able to handle it. “Liam, there’s more. I can wait if you would rather…”

“No, that’s alright. Please, continue.” He switched on his stoic royal facade and stood from the floor, extending his hand to help Riley up. 

Riley took his hand and stood, linking their fingers together before he could pull away. “You have a younger brother.”

Liam’s grip on Riley’s hand tightened as the tears again began to fall. Riley guided him slowly back to the couch, helping him sit down. She sat down next to him and stroked his hair as he sat in silence, staring off into the distance. “Is he…?”

“He was raised in the Via Imperii by your mother. He’s currently working in the Palace.” She took a deep breath to prepare herself to make the next statement. “Thomas is your brother.”

Liam’s head dropped forward, his breath hitching with every attempt to calm himself. There was a long silence in the room. Riley continued to rub Liam’s back in an attempt to comfort him, silently wishing he would say something. Anything. Yell, scream, break a vase. Then she could at least get an idea of what he was feeling, and do something to try to help. Suddenly, he stood from his seat and started walking toward the door. 

“Liam, where are you going?”

“I need to take a walk. Gather my thoughts.”

“Do you want me to come with you?”

“No, I need to be alone right now. You stay here, I’ll be back shortly.”

He never turns down my company, he always wants me with him. Is he mad at me? Should I not have told him? 

She heard the door slam shut and she looked up. He was gone. 

No goodbye, no kiss, no I love you. He’s never just walked out like that. What am I supposed to do?

She picked up her phone off the table and dialed Bastien, asking him if he was with Liam. He informed her that he was told to stand down. Riley ordered Bastien to follow him and keep an eye on her husband. She never gave Bastien a direct order, usually she would just ask politely, so he understood that this was a serious situation, and complied. 

Riley fought every urge she had to follow him out that door and stay by his side, regardless of him telling her not to. If this was how Liam needed to process, she wasn’t going to get in the way of that. She tried not to take his actions or words personally, given the atomic bomb she just dropped on him, but part of her felt like he was upset with her, and she didn’t want to be in his face to make him more upset, that was the last thing either of them needed. She had sent Bastien, and he would keep her looped in if something were to happen. 

It had been well over an hour since Liam had left their quarters. Riley had tried calling a couple of times, but his phone was going straight to voicemail. She had passed the point of letting him process, and crossed into worry and mild panic. She sat in bed trying to read a book, but what she was actually doing was reading one sentence over and over again. There was no way she would be able to concentrate on anything until Liam got back. 

Riley finally let out a long breath when she heard the front door open and close. She put down her book and prepared herself. Liam entered the room with his head down, even though she couldn’t see his face, she could tell how tired he was. He walked straight to his closet without looking up, or saying a word to her. She wasn’t sure what to do or say, so she figured it would be best to let him come to her first. 

A few minutes later, Liam walked out of his closet and headed for the bed, not making eye contact with Riley. He silently pulled the covers back and got into the bed. Riley was sitting up, watching his every movement. She couldn’t take it anymore, she had to break the silence. “Liam…” She said barely above a whisper, he turned his head and looked at her for the first time since arriving home. “I’m sorry.” She placed her hand gently over his. 

“Riley, you have nothing to apologize for. I am the one that wanted you to do this. You did nothing wrong. None of this is on you.” He smiled a sad, soft smile at her. 

“Fine, but you’re not allowed to blame yourself either.” He looked at her with a confused expression. “What you just said, telling me you were the one that wanted me to do this. I know you Liam Rys, better than anyone. You’re thinking about how you brought all of this on yourself.” Liam started to look down, but Riley wouldn’t let him. She held his chin between her thumb and forefinger, forcing him to look her in the eyes. “This is all on them, it’s the Via Imperii’s fault. That’s why we’re going to take them down. Together. Just like Anton, just like Auvernal, just like Barthelemy, just like any other enemy that has ever, or will ever come our way. We are the King and Queen of Cordonia, Liam and Riley Rys. We are a force to be reckoned with.” She never broke eye contact with him once, ensuring she got her point across.

Liam took a deep breath, removing his wife’s hand from his chin and bringing it to his lips. “You always know just what to say, love.”

“Years of diplomatic training. I need to be prepared for every possible scenario.” She winked at him, and he chuckled. She was relieved to see his mood lift ever so slightly. It was a start. “C’mon, let’s try to get some sleep. We can circle back to this nightmare in the morning, start working on a plan.” They both laid back onto the bed, and into each others arms. 

In the middle of the night, Riley’s eyes fluttered open. She was laying face to face with Liam, who was looking at her with worry in his eyes, gently running his hand up and down her arm. 

“Hey, are you ok?” She lifted her hand and ran her fingers through his hair. 

“Please don’t leave me, Riley.” Liam’s voice trembled as he looked at his wife with pleading eyes. 

Riley sat up straight in bed, confused by Liam’s statement. “Liam, never. I love you, you’re stuck with me for life.”

He gave her a sad smile that didn’t meet his eyes. “I just...there have been so many people that said they cared about me, and then left. Losing them was so hard. But if I lost you Riley, I don’t know how I would be able to continue on. You are the most important part of me, my everything. I don’t exist without you.”

Riley’s heart broke at Liam’s confession. After the way they left things before she fell asleep, she never would have thought that this would be a conversation they would be having. And it definitely wasn’t a conversation she was expecting to have at 3AM. She cupped his face in her hands and stroked his cheeks with her thumbs. “Liam, I promise you with all my heart, and everything I am, that there is nothing on this earth that could take me away from you. My husband and my daughter are the greatest joys of my life. A world without the two of you is not a world I would ever even want to think about.”

Without another word, Liam leaned forward and kissed her. He used that kiss as an outlet for all of the emotions battling inside of him. He gently guided Riley to lay in her back as he rolled on top of her. 

“Show me.” He whispered. 

“Yes, my king.”

Riley and Liam spent the rest of the night getting lost in each other, finding the comfort they so desperately needed.

Continue Reading

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[orangegreet]

Photo by Florian Olivo on Unsplash

The morning of the twin’s birthday, Alina woke from a fitful sleep.

Strange dreams colored her feelings and her ears rang with the sounds of a dark chanting verse that had haunted her thoughts and that she could not place.

Dreams aside, the incident in the study, too, left unresolved emotions which clung to her insides like sludge and would not go away.

Her mind reminded her again and again of that feeling of being pressed into the door by Lord Kirigan’s body.

The hard plane of his chest crushing her soft breasts. The heat of his breaths on her skin. His lungs pushing out, hers falling in.

The raw desire that blazed to life when she thought he was going to kiss her. The crashing humiliation after.

She should be disgusted.

Clearly, he had been so, given the way he threw her from the room and slammed the door. Left alone and without a candle to find her way back to her room.

Desperately, she searched for that anger toward him that she had been diligently collecting and storing for weeks on end. Holding it inside of her like a talisman against his pull, against the thrall he had on her.

By the time she had washed and dressed for the day, Alina found herself right side up again.

Completely prepared to go to his study and drag him to the party regardless of the state of their professional relationship.

********

Genya and Marie were finished setting the garden together, ready to receive the guests while Nadia and Tamar ran the food from the kitchen.

Alina exited the garden to go take a rest in the house before the party when she caught sight of a little white blur at the edge of the woods.

Lillian.

The little girl looked at her and then ran into the woods and out of sight.

Alina gathered her skirts in her hands and gave chase, “Lillian! Please slow down!”

Though she had not explored the woods much in her time at Blyth Fell, having been preoccupied with the garden in the first couple weeks and then quite busy with the children since, Alina was certain it would not be a completely safe place for a seven-year-old to venture into alone.

The white pinafore dress stood out against the shadowed woods and Alina just barely kept the girl in her line of sight even though she was losing her speed.

By the time she caught up, she found Lillian stopped in a small clearing, looking over her shoulder at Alina.

The governess approached slowly, hands aloft to say, ‘I come in peace’. Lillian turned away.

She was standing in front of a little stone block. Grass seed grew up close to it and Alina looked at Lillian and then sank to her knees, guessing what this was in an instance.

She brushed the weeds down, snapping them and breaking them away so the writing on the stone was legible.

LUDA ZENIK KIRIGAN

BELOVED WIFE & MOTHER

CHERISHED SISTER & FRIEND

The birthdate was some twenty years prior to the death date which was…today’s date, just seven years ago.

Alina stared at the words, moving slowly out of the way so Lillian could sit in front of the cleared space.

They sat in silence for a very long time.

So long that Alina wondered how close they were to the start of the party. Still, she waited for Lillian to say something first.

“My Aunt Nina said I look like her…that I have her eyes,” Lillian said eventually.

“Uncle Fedyor says she was very sweet so…” Lillian trailed away, wiping her nose on her sleeve and then sitting up straight again, “So I think Georgie must have gotten that part of her.”

Alina would have laughed if she did not feel so sorrowful in this moment.

The idea that the traits of your parents were doled out to the children like pieces of pie—that the total is finite—it was so child-like to believe that broke her heart to hear it.

“I am not so sweet,” Lillian said finally, scrunching her face and pulling up a blade of grass. “I am not like her really so I must be like him,” she said with disdain, “and that is why mother died. I am bad like him.”

Alina was careful not to refute the child outright, it would not be helpful. She was careful to make sure she understood. Instead she asked, “Why do you think she died?”

Lillian turned her gaze upon the governess, wide blue eyes shining and wet, “Georgie was born first and then me. She died because I was all tangled up in her belly.”

“And you think because you were born second, you caused her to die?” Alina asked.

Lillian nodded.

It was easy to forget sometimes that children had a higher threshold for morbidity. Much higher than adults. The way they could simplify life and death and boil it down into ‘if and then’ statements was shocking each time.

“I understand why you might think that, Lillian. I was not there when you were born but I do know now I am older that it is not babies who kill their mother’s in childbirth. It is just something that happens sometimes. It is not anyone’s fault.”

Lillian scrunched her face further and Alina continued, “You do not have to believe me right now but I do hope you will listen when I say, I know what it feels like to be without a mother. It is lonely and scary.” Alina stared at the headstone. “I wished to be held all the time when I was your age.”

Lillian glared at the ground, tears falling silent into the grass. A shuddering breath extracted from her mouth every few moments.

“You are not alone.” She finished.

Lillian wiped her nose on her sleeve again. Alina did not feel invited to touch the girl and so she waited.

Neither of them spoke for a few more minutes and then the little girl got to her feet.

“I-I am ready to go to the party now.” She left without a backward glance but Alina felt that something in their relationship had been resolved at last. Alina followed close behind her.

********

Despite the interlude in the woods and the tearful admissions, Lillian and George thoroughly enjoyed the festivities planned.

The joy and excitement from each of the attendees was contagious and each person had planned a special game or activity for the group.

Nadia and Tamar had made several special cakes with surprises inside. Something stuffed and hidden in each one as a little game.

Maxim coaxed Ivan into a race wherein the children were lifted onto their respective shoulders as each man raced across the yard.

Ivan won with a mad-cackling Lillian gripping his ears and spurring him forward like a tyrant. He looked more thrilled than she had ever seen him.

Alexei, Marie and Sergei had put their heads together to come up with the best parlor games and refused out right to play anything which had previously been deemed ‘boring’ by either of the twins.

This, Alina gathered, alluded to a game of charades played last winter which contained several references that went promptly over the children’s heads but which had the adults roaring in laughter. The twins had spent the hour bored and unamused and declared they would never play the game again.

Genya and Alina had gone into town and picked up a special gift for each child.

A skipping rope with wooden handles carved in delicate patterns and a kaleidoscope with colored glass beads inside. Alina had not yet been paid but Genya assured her this money was directly from the Lord himself since, to their knowledge at the time, he would not be in attendance.

It was unusual, to be sure, to see servants show such happiness and care for the children of the household but then, looking around, Alina realized that of all the people gathered here, one glaring fact seemed to be shared—none of them had homes or families to go back to anymore.

At least, not to her knowledge. A great many of them had confirmed their status in the world noting that either war or the cholera outbreak or simply poor living standards had left each of them quite alone in the world before coming to Blyth Fell.

It was a grim truth but one which seemed to bind them all here now.

Alina wondered idly how it was that they all happened to find employment here. It pressed on the definition of coincidental.

The only person conspicuously absent, aside from the Lord himself, was Misha.

Alina asked Alexei about this while the others were tasting cakes and he wrinkled his brow and looked away from her. “He had a rather, er…difficult evening. His duties sometimes are more challenging than…well he will be around for dinner tonight, I expect.”

Alexei patted her arm and walked away, inviting no further discussion on the matter.

********

As the hour passed and Lord Kirigan had not made his appearance, Alina contemplated the very real possibility that she would have to corner him in his study and frog march him into the garden.

She wondered briefly to feel bad about accosting the Lord last night now she knew today marked the anniversary of his wife’s death.

But then, the memory of Lillian’s tearful face as she stared at her mothers headstone and George’s pained tone when he inquired for weeks whether his father would return for his birthday, reinvigorated her.

And so, just as they slipped a blindfold over Lillian’s eyes for her turn in Blindman’s Bluff, Alina resigned herself to her duty and slipped away to collect their father.

She made it halfway across the yard when she saw him.

Lord Kirigan appeared around the broadside corner of the house, walking toward the garden and fumbling with an oddly shaped box in his arms.

Alina warmed at the sight of him and promptly blamed it on the sun which was currently hidden in the overcast sky.

She was, however, pleased to see that he looked very nervous. At least this indicated some amount of care and concern for the children.

“Where are you going?” The Lord asked, sharply. “Is the party no longer in the garden?”

Alina straightened her posture, “Of course it is. I was simply heading inside to…fetch a few extra napkins—”

The box in hands emitted a strange noise and she thought for a moment she saw it tipping in his hand.

He grabbed a strong hold on it and called back, “Come along then, Miss Starkova. Some gifts do not keep well and we do not want this day to spoiled by another ill omen.”

His words relieved her lingering tension. He meant to act as if last night had not happened at all and Alina was content with this decision.

She turned in the opposite direction and led the way into the garden, her excuse with the napkins well forgotten until she was already back inside the walls.

The shock at the sudden appearance of Lord Kirigan was written on the faces of everyone in the garden caused a laugh to bubble up her throat.

The Lord glared at her and then turned back to the children.

George was beside himself at his father’s presence, hugging him then standing on the table to press the kaleidoscope over his father’s eye and twist it for him.

Lillian looked neither pleased nor dismayed. The vulnerability she had displayed this morning lingered around her and she simply accepted his presence without many words or interaction to follow. Reserving her judgement for later.

As the children opened the box from their father and exclaimed over the little orange kitten inside, Alina wondered later if the ‘ill omen’ to which Lord Kirigan had referred was an allusion to the anniversary of his wife’s passing or if it was a reference to that dead pet of hers, the pony in the bog.

Alas she would not be able to ask him with the excitement and horror of what would follow later that day.

********

The party itself was very successful and though Lord Kirigan did not participate in any of the games but rather took a seat next to Ivan, he did help himself to a few cakes left near his reach.

Alina watched him with covert eyes and relished the image of icing on the corner of his surly mouth. An image which she could save up for some inevitable moment in the future when he would try to intimidate her again.

The break in the games was welcome as the kitten was passed around to be cuddled.

Maxim disappeared to the stables and reappeared with a long piece of leather and brutally removed an aster bloom to attach to the end. He handed it to Lillian who dragged it around for the kitten, urging it to pounce.

Alina lingered near Genya as they watched when a shouting occurred from the door to the garden.

“It’s ready now and today is the perfect day to try and so if you could all gather in a line, we can put it to the test!”

Alina turned toward the newest party attendee.

A young man with dark hair holding a large box and setting up what looked like a three legged stool.

Looking around, Alina was not the only one confused but the others, at least, recognized the man and began to laugh. Genya was flushed as she pulled on Alina’s arm and directed her to stand near the end of the group.

“Genya, what is going on?” Genya looked distracted and did not seem to hear Alina. It was Nadia who answered.

“That is our Mr. Kostyk. He is a business partner of Lord Kirigan’s. He does actually live under this roof with us but I suppose this might be the first time you have seen him in person.”

Something clicked into place and Alina nodded. The man in the workroom who received his meals hand-delivered by the grace of Genya.

“And what is happening now?” Alina asked. Genya moved along the line, arranging people into view and pulling the children to stand in front of their father.

The kitten did not seem to want to still in their hands so it was shoved into Ivan’s arms who accepted it with a grunt.

Nadia smiled at the sight of Ivan and answered, “It seems Mr. Kostyk has engineered yet another device to try to get a portrait taken.”

“A portrait?” Alina asked as Mr. Kostyk was setting his box on top of the three-legged stand and hiding beneath a heavy black curtain behind the box.

“It’s something of a family business for Lord Kirigan,” Nadia explained. “The late Lord Kirigan and his business partner also worked on the inventions and would also have the people in the house to test out his progress. Or so I hear.”

She arranged the hair around her shoulders, “Although Genya says some of those models required sitting for thirty minutes at a time so I can only hope Mr. Kostyk does not expect that right now.”

“Look this way,” Mr. Kostyk pointed at the black circle in the middle of his box, “and do not move, if you please!”

They stood still for a few minutes, long enough that the children began to shift their feet in boredom.

Ivan held the cat in place and Alina, on the other end let her mind wander as she contemplated this inventor from the workroom and his patron, Lord Kirigan. She had seen examples of these paint-less portraits in London, of course, but never imagined she would be the subject of one.

When Mr. Kostyk was done, he stood and smiled at them all, not really seeing them and said goodbye with a short wave. Then he was gone as quickly as he had come. Alina giggled and wondered if he had been there at all.

Lord Kirigan watched Mr. Kostyk’s retreating back and then followed the man out of the garden, effectively leaving the party as well.

Alina frowned and glanced at the children. Lillian took the blow stoically and went back to her cake. George looked distressed once more but Ivan plopped the kitten in front of him in the next moment and he was well distracted.

********

When the party was over, Alina gathered the children to go inside for a rest. As they passed the edge of the woods again, however, Lillian spoke.

“I want to go back to my mother.” She said.

George hesitated and Alina surveyed him. “All right, let us take George inside and then you and I can go back out.”

“No.”

Lillian looked at George and took his hand, “Let us go, Georgie, please. I want to go with you.” George looked fearful but nodded.

It was hard to explain the distinct feeling of foreboding Alina felt upon entering the woods now.

It was still as dark and shadowed as it had been in the morning but now there was something in the air which was disquieting. Alina wrapped her hands on either of the children’s shoulders as they walked the same path toward that small clearing.

They had been walking for a few minutes when George stopped again, shaking his head and looking at his sister. “Lillian, I don’t want to go.”

Lillian scowled at him, tugging on his arm, “You have to, you have to come see mother, with me. Please, Georgie. Just once.”

George was shaking his head and staring past the thinning trees, fear widening his eyes.

They were in sight of the little clearing now and even through the trees, Alina looked to where she knew the gravestone sat.

Only the place where she knew the stone sat, the place where she herself sat just this morning, was covered in dark shadow.

Alina squinted, trying to discern what she was seeing and she stared, the black mass thickened.

It grew and spread like a dense, black smoke, covering half the clearing like a slow-moving predator.

A frisson of fear shot through her body and inexplicably she thought of the chanting from her dreams and more words bubbled into her throat and she prayed to Alatyr with a fierce concentration.

While she was distracted George took off on the path back toward the house.

“George, wait!” Alina called, pausing only to take Lillian’s hand in hers as they ran after the little dark-haired boy.

“George, wait for us!” Lillian shouted, sounding fearful herself.

He turned a corner and slipped from their sight and Alina panicked at the realization that he was taking a different path. One that did not lead them back to the house.

“George, stop! You are going the wrong way!”

They followed, turning the corner and he came into sight yards ahead. He stood stock-still.

“Georgie?”

His hands were up in front of him and as they drew closer, Alina saw a thick black mass rising before the boy’s body like a snake from a basket.

Was it a snake?

The woods were so dark, it was difficult to see for sure but Alina thought it’s shape was distinctly snake-like.

“Stay still, George.” Alina cautioned. She held Lillian in place with a sharp look and began to slowly approach the quivering little boy.

She was not sure what to do. Did not understand what she was seeing. Not exactly.

The snake rose up to eye level with George.

It reared back.

The boy threw his arm over his face and the snake struck with a whip-like movement.

“George!” Alina yelled, running forward to grab his shoulders as he screamed out.

It echoed around the forest and bounced off the trees and Alina held him in her lap as he continued to scream and cradle his arm.

Frantic, Alina looked around for the creature and saw nothing but dead leaves crushed on the forest floor. Everything was still and silent save the screaming from the boy in her lap.

“Let me see, Georgie,” she soothed, trying to move his hand to get a look at his arm.

George whimpered and cried and Alina gaped at the mark.

Two little puncture wounds on his pale little forearm, seeping black liquid like ink running down a page.