#i can promise you she has already thought those same criticisms to herself - and worse ones too.

[jerys]

how is it okay to call people who simply enjoy a different genre of music than you 'braindead' and stupid. disliking taylor swift's music does not give you the right to be wildly misogynistic about her. disliking her music does not give you the right to rampantly hurl abuse at anyone who does enjoy it. this kind of behaviour makes me so incensed because tell me what other artist gets this level of vitriol thrown at her for just doing her job? what other fanbase - comprised predominantly of young women - gets attacked with such a vicious level of malice? you can claim it's not misogyny but at this point no one's going to actually buy into that

[sailors-diary-for-elise]

Reaching Out

SEE! SOMETHING OTHER THAN SMUT. Also this one is old and a bit dusty, sooooo warnings are gonna be to the best of my ability. ALSO. THIS IS ANGST AND HAS TRIGGERING THEMES. PLEASE SCROLL PAST IF THE WARNINGS ARE DISTRESSING TO YOU. I wrote this during a really difficult day and was just word vomiting tbh. I am also gonna state that this is a work of fiction and I am in no way a therapist or anything, so if something here bothers you I’m sorry this is just something I wrote mostly for myself.

Warnings: god this is painful but here we go. Reader is depressed and has anxiety, mentions of self-inflicted injuries (she punches a mirror...repeatedly-), blood, panic attacks, it takes a few of the members to restrain the reader so if you’re uncomfortable with that please don’t read this, this is honestly just a hard read imo so please read with care. Also, the reader hates herself and just doesn’t really think highly of herself at all sooooo yeah-

It was the fourth time this month. The fourth argument that could’ve and should’ve ended differently.

You’d come out of your room to find San off at practice or on some work related schedule, spend the entire day outside trying to break a horrible cycle in your mind, just to disappear again once he returned home. It was frustrating you both and causing a serious strain in your relationship.

On San’s side, he couldn’t understand why it was that you would fight against him trying to get you to come out of your room when you spent the entire day alone. Then there was his frustration when you would complain about never seeing him and yet would disappear and avoid him when he was available. To San, it didn’t make any sense. All he wanted to do was spend time with you and support you, but it seemed as though you were determined to shut him out. He watches you storm off to your bedroom, running a hand through his hair as he tries to recall the last time he’d come back from a schedule and had a nice quiet evening that didn’t end in you both screaming at each other. When he can’t, San grabs his jacket and walks out of the apartment with his phone and keys, planning on spending the night at the dorms so that you can have some space to cool off. Once he gets in his car, he quickly dials Hongjoong’s number, pulling out of the parking garage of your complex and letting out all of his frustrations and concerns. 

As he drove, San had no way of knowing how much you hated yourself for what was happening between you both.

What San didn’t know was that your depression and anxiety had been spiraling lately due to the pressure that had been placed on your shoulders from not only your work but from being the girlfriend of an idol that had become so famous. He didn’t know that every day you were terrified that, now that his future was so bright and secure, he’d no longer want you. That he’d leave you just like so many before had done, and that he’d realize you were no longer something of use to him. And finally, how you criticize every minute of your life, finding ways that you are failing even when you’ve done nothing but your best. It came to the point that waking up from dreams was physically painful, because you could control a dream and guarantee the people you love never turned their backs on you. San didn’t, or rather, couldn’t know this. Because to know this would mean you would have to tell him. And no one should have to bear this burden but you, and there was always that small part of you that was terrified of having your feelings invalidated. 

Your whole life people have toyed with you, accepting your depression only when it was convenient to them and berating you once the curtains fall. Some even went as far as to weaponize your emotions, tearing you down in an argument with something that was the equivalent to the beating heart in your chest. Yes they would apologize and you would eventually forgive them because people make mistakes. But the thing about words is that once they leave someone’s mouth, the damage is already done and there’s no amount of remorse or forgiveness that can repair it. That’s where you are now.

You slam the door shut, leaving all the lights in your room turned off, your head pounding after the screaming match you and San had just finished (rather, you ran out on and barricaded the door so he wouldn’t see you cry) and your face stained with tears. Not a sound left you as you curled up on the bed, biting your fist as a punishment for your body's betrayal of emotions. All it would take was one minute of silence and the entire apartment would be able to hear how you were feeling. In all honesty, you didn’t want San to see you cry. Because in your mind, you didn’t deserve to cry. You were the one who picked a fight. You're the one who made unfair accusations, using his career and passions as weapons against him. You were the one that hurt him in the same ways that had been done to you, falsely claiming that it was to “beat him to it and strike first.” 

The front door slams shut, and you work quickly. You unbarricade the door and peek out, making sure no one is there. Dashing across the living space, you reach the spare bedroom and lock the door, not seeing the need for such extreme measures as earlier. You then sit with your back to the door, listening for the sign of San’s safe return from the store. Your butt has just about gone numb when this occurs, the front door shutting softly alerting you instantly. You rise from your position, albeit a little slowly due to your cramped muscles, and shuffle to the bed. A knock sounds, and a decision has to be made.

“Y/N? I know you’re awake. Can you come to bed? You and I both know that neither of us can sleep alone anymore.” San mumbles through the door. You hear shuffling, and you hold your breath thinking he might unlock the door. You’re not sure though, whether you’re holding your breath in hope or fear. But all you hear is a thud, indicating San sitting down. “Look, we don’t have to talk. You don’t even need to look at me, it just feels better for both of us if I’m holding you through the night, because at the end of the day, we still love each other, right?” 

San’s cheeks are marked with tear streaks, eyes red and puffy as he waits for any sign of confirmation from you. He loves you more than anything else, so much so that he’d give up everything for you, and needed to hear that you still loved him as well. He holds his breath, hands covering his face while he waits for you to show him a sign that you’re even listening. That you’re even there. 

You tip-toe over to the door, gently crouching down in front of it and rest your fingertips lightly on the wood, near where his shoulder is supposed to be. It’s cold and unyielding, but this is the bravest you’ll ever be. You hear a sigh on the other side, almost as if he can sense your presence.

“You know, you don’t have to keep it all in. From the first moment I saw you, I knew that there was so much going on in your life that it’d take time to get you to trust me. And I still want that. I want to know what’s going on in your life again. I want to hold you as you're crying again. And I want to repay you for all the times you’ve helped me.” San whispers, his voice showing how much of a toll this has taken on him. “I know a lot has changed, I travel a lot, and it’s harder for us to go anywhere without me being recognized. But I promise you that my feelings for you, the amount of love I feel for you, it’s all still there. If anything, I love you even more now than before. I don’t want to lose you Y/N. I want to keep fighting for us and I just need you to reach out to me, show me you want this too. Open the door, even if it’s just a crack, and let me help heal those open wounds. Yes there will be scars and yes it will take time, but I’m willing to wait.”

At this point you have tears streaming down your face as you withdraw your hand. You don’t move though, despite your broken mind willing you to do so, you stay rooted in your spot. Sniffles break through the other side, showing how much San is hurting. You feel as though there’s a war going on inside of you, your heart begging you to open the door and stop this madness, but your mind resolute on keeping this wall up. 

“I. Can’t.” you croak out, bringing your trembling hand to your lips and nibbling your thumbnail as you rise slowly. “They were right, I don’t deserve it. I don’t deserve you.”

“What? Who told you that?” San questions, confusion swirling in his head as he struggles to better understand where this was coming from. Standing, San presses his hands to the door, trying to open it only to find it locked. “Love, talk to me.”

“All I’ve been doing is hurting you, and I’m sorry. ” You whimper, your mind screaming at you to shut-up and not give away anything while your heart, your very being, is begging to be set free and allow him back in. “I, I love you, San.” And with that you rise, walking towards the bathroom attached to the room. You close the door, locking it and turning to the mirror to see your disheveled state. Tears stain your cheeks, your eyes have bags under them, and your hair is greasy and a mess from the lack of effort on your part to take care of yourself. 

Thoughts swirl and distort your reflection, harsh words clouding your mind. Some of the words surface from your past, some are from deep within you stemming from your lack of forgiveness for yourself. You don’t deserve forgiveness or a second chance. You don’t deserve him caring for you. You’re toxic. You do nothing but hurt him. Toxic. Toxic. 

You start screaming, starting in your gut and ripping out through your mouth, scaring the shit out of San who begins pounding on the door. You hear him calling out to you, but it’s muffled in your head as you continue to sob and scream at your reflection, running your hands through your hair before tugging on it out of frustration. The longer you look at yourself, the worse the feeling in your gut gets as the harsh words continue to tear you apart, worsening with each passing moment. With one last scream you pull your arm back and punch the mirror, desperate to feel something other than the all consuming self-hatred. And it works.

There’s a crack on the mirror with droplets of blood in the center. You bring your trembling hand into view, noticing your knuckles slightly bloodied and cut. The pain replaces all of the noise in your head, if only for a moment, and you become entranced by it. Raising your fist again, you punch the mirror once, twice, three more times before stopping to look at your handy work. The crack has grown and your hand is bleeding steadily, a couple of pieces of glass stuck in your knuckles. You’re ashamed of what and who you’ve become and raise your fist again when the door breaks down.

“WHAT THE HELL ARE YOU DOING?!” San shouts, restraining your flailing and screaming form as tears stream down your face. Four pairs of hands are pulling you out of the bathroom, with San’s arms wrapped tightly around your waist as he pulls you on the bed. He immediately starts shushing you, whispering into your hair as he wraps his legs around you as well, restricting you so the others can clean you up and call an ambulance if need be. At this point though, he doesn’t need to as you’ve gone completely limp, sobbing into his neck loudly as the emotions you’ve kept hidden flood out in a wave that swallows you whole. “Shh baby, it’s okay. We’re here now and we’re not leaving you. I’ve got you, we’ve got you. It’s okay, it’s okay.” His voice is trembling, absolutely terrified by what he’s just experienced. It’s lucky that Hongjoong, Yunho, and Seonghwa arrived when they did or he might have been too late, having planned on coming to help San piece back together your relationship. It took Yunho and Seonghwa to break down the doors, and all four of them carried you out of the bathroom so you wouldn’t hurt yourself or them.

Soon, you run out of energy and are left whimpering and quivering in San’s hold, slowly coming to your senses as you hear running water, hushed murmurs, and the cabinet mirror (or what’s left of it) being opened in search of something. When the realization sets in that San, Hongjoong, Seonghwa, and Yunho have seen you at your worst, your chest tightens and your breathing becomes irregular which are the first signs of a panic attack. Something San was familiar with but hadn’t seen happen in some time.

“No no no no.” San repeats, noticing the changes in your behavior and looking towards the bathroom. “Hongjoong! It’s getting worse!”

Immediately, footsteps can be heard heading in your direction, and a gentle face appears in the corner of your eye. Hongjoong slowly reaches forward, grasping the hand that had begun curling in on itself to the point of almost drawing blood and pulling it away from your chest.

“Sweetie, grab my hand and squeeze that instead. You won’t hurt me, I swear.” Hongjoong whispers, slowly working his nimble fingers between your clenched ones. It comes as a surprise to him when, instead of resisting, your hand flies open into a rigid position. “Shh… it’s okay sweet-heart. How about this. Follow this.”

Your hand is placed on a firm and warm chest, a slight bump hitting your palm and drawing your attention to the pattern. It’s his heartbeat. Hongjoong’s pulse creates a rhythm in your head, distracting you from your fears and disdain towards yourself momentarily while Seonghwa and Yunho both return to the room, one holding medical supplies and the other holding a bowl with warm water and a towel. Crouching in front of you, Seonghwa notices the hand on Hongjoong’s chest is the one that’s injured, glancing at San who is fighting back tears as he strokes your hair.

“Y/n-ah. We have to clean your hand. Put your hand on San’s chest, follow his heartbeat.” Seonghwa says in a firm yet kind tone. At this point, you’ve lost almost all self-awareness, too exhausted to fight anyone as you nod partially, removing your hand from Hongjoong’s chest to place on San’s. “No sweetie. The other hand.” Seonghwa instructs, a heartbroken smile crossing his face at the sight of you behaving like a toddler who skipped their nap. You look confused, bringing your hand to your face to inspect it, finding the streaks of blood and bits of glass as a few tears trickle down your face. 

You’re not sure how long it takes for Seonghwa to properly clean your hands, or when you got changed into one of San’s shirts that fits like a dress, but as you’re lied down on the bed with San, who’s watching you intently to make sure any slight changes on your face are caught immediately, you find yourself in an almost numbed mind-frame. Too exhausted and confused to comprehend anything around you. 

Your eyes slowly close, the occasional tear slipping out only to be swiped gently away by San. San, the last thing you see before you fall into a dreamless sleep. And you are blissfully unaware of what’s to come in the morning.

As you snore softly in San’s grasp, your chest rising and falling in a steady rhythm, Yunho leaves the room to clean up the mess that has been left behind with Seonghwa following closely behind, most likely to comfort the younger boy. Hongjoong reaches forward to brush hair out your eyes and slowly strokes your cheek. Who knew such a small body could take this much pain? he wonders to himself, not even beginning to understand what caused you to struggle so much and break down so devastatingly. And that’s the only way to describe your attack. Devastating.

Like a tsunami, you receded from social outings and even your true love San, and once they realized what was happening and why you’d “changed” the wave had already hit. But his main question was voiced by San.

“Hyung.” San rasps out, looking up at Hongjoong with tears streaming down his face. “Why-or how did this happen? What caused this? What are we-what am I supposed to do?” 

San’s breathing becomes labored, almost as if the weight of the situation has sat fully on his chest. He chokes on a sob, looking at you in your angelic state while pressing a gentle and wet kiss to the top of your head while crying. He clutches you to his chest, rocking slightly and burying his face in your head. Hongjoong panics, thinking he’ll wake you but settles once realizing how exhausted you must be. “Why would she keep this from me?”

“San-ah, I honestly don’t have the answer to that.” Hongjoong mumbles, holding his own tears back with a few deep breaths before looking at the pair of you. He honestly considered Ateez his family, and you became his little sister that he felt he needed to protect from the world. If only he’d realized sooner how much damage the world had already done to you. “But I do know one thing. Now more than ever, she needs us.”

San looks at his hyung and leader, absolutely wrecked from the storm of emotions that flowed between you two. “How?” he croaks out.

“I’m not sure. But what I do know is that the storm hasn’t gone and that this is only the beginning of our journey.” Hongjoong places a hand on your cheek and his other on San’s hand, squeezing slightly in hopes of reassuring the younger boy. “I see how much you need her San. And how much she needs you. She’s scared San. More so than any of us right now. Which is why we have to stay with her no matter what. No matter what she might say or do to scare us off, we have to fight through it all and show her we are here for her. Because if we don’t.” Hongjoong’s voice cracks, revealing his true emotions and the toll this whole ordeal has taken on him. “We might lose her forever.”

San sits quietly, shaking slightly from the silent tears that are being shed and pulling you closer to his chest if that was even possible, crying himself into a slumber much like you did moments prior. Hongjoong rises, tucking both of you in like he would an upset child, and walking into the bathroom. The scene that awaits him is what finally breaks his own dam of tears, collapsing next to Seonghwa and Yunho who are both crouched down. They’ve hunched over, scrubbing the white tiles of your blood and throwing glass shards away in a paper bag. Upon noticing Hongjoong, Yunho drops what’s in his hands, embracing his leader and best friend. His tears fall as well, the sight of someone as strong as Hongjoong breaking down terrifying him. 

Seonghwa wipes the few stray tears before rising, quickly finishing the task of cleaning before ushering the two broken boys out of the room. He sits Hongjoon and Yunho down, pulling out a paper and pen and titling it “Y/n’s Healing.”

“We’ll make a plan, and take this journey one step at a time. Until Y/n’s finally healed.” Seonghwa states, immediately writing steps and plans he’s already come up with in his head. And so the journey begins.

[heliads]

Some Small Comfort

Based on this request: “reader is having a really bad day for no reason and Draco comforts her and one of the ways he does is kissing her forehead and wrapping his arms around her so she can bury herself into his chest”

masterlist

The wind is wild around you. It’s a cold, blustery day, and anyone in their right minds would have stayed firmly indoors, bodies turned instinctively towards a roaring fire in their common rooms. However, you are decidedly mad, and instead perch here in the creaking wooden stands, green and silver scarf wrapped around your neck as if the few feet of woven yarn will do anything to keep you warm.

It’s not like you’re alone, though. Hundreds of students are packed in around you, banners of emerald and sapphire being waved frantically through the air at opposite sides of the stands. It’s time for a Quidditch match, the semifinals of the Hogwarts Quidditch Cup. Your own beloved Slytherin is playing against Ravenclaw, who despite being stronger than the past couple of years is being steadily crushed by the swooping and soaring forms of seven green-cloaked players. Your cheers are ripped from your throat by the wind, joining the collective cacophony of the school as you all watch in awe.

“They’re going to win. No doubt about it.” You glance over your shoulder to see Pansy Parkinson. You and Pansy have not always been close friends, and the most you have in common with her is the house you share. She’s overly critical of the fact that you’ve been known to hang around with Potter, Weasley, and Granger. You’re a touch too haughty when you compare yourself with her. If you’re supposed to spend time with people who make you a better person, you’re not entirely sure you’ll find that same company with Pansy. That being said, there is a certain rush in being able to say what you want about whoever you want and share gloating laughs with another girl clad in viridian. It’s always a little more fun to pretend to be the villain, isn’t it?

You flash Pansy a grin. “As if there was a chance they wouldn’t. Slytherin is Ravenclaw but with muscle. It’s easy to see that those blue prats wouldn’t last ten minutes.” Pansy smirks at that. “Besides, it’s easy to cheer them on when you’ve got your star seeker boyfriend, don’t you? I hate to say it, but the two of you are cute together.” You feel your cheeks heat up as she says it, even as you know Pansy only speaks to get a rise out of you. “I’m glad you approve of our relationship. I would be utterly devastated if you didn’t.”

Pansy turns her attention back to the game. “Speaking of which, Malfoy would be utterly devastated if you don’t start paying attention. I think he’s about to win.” You tear your gaze away from your friend to stare excitedly back at the pitch. Sure enough, Draco has spun his broom into a deep dive, plunging farther and farther through the air until at last he snatches at something and rights himself, arm held triumphantly up. Even from this distance, you can see the victorious look on his face and the small golden sphere trapped in his hand, white wings beating uselessly against his palm.

Your shout of triumph is drowned out by Lee Jordan’s voice, which echoes across the Quidditch pitch. “And that’s it- Malfoy has caught the snitch- Slytherin has won. I hate to say it, but it was a good performance from Slytherin all around. We all know we’ll thrash you at the championships, though, you can count on that-” Lee’s hurried speech is cut off by the sound of Professor McGonagall chastising him for a certain lack of impartial commentating. You and the rest of the Slytherins rise up in boos against Lee, although you can’t stay angry for long. Draco has won, what more could you care about?

You rush down through the stands to the grounds below, feeling your heels fly across the packed earth. Draco’s already waiting for you outside of the locker rooms. His face, which you can tell he’s trying his hardest to keep neutral and unimpressed, breaks into a smile when he sees you. You run over to him and he picks you up, wrapping his arms around your waist. You beam up at him. “You were amazing, Draco. Honestly. That last catch was fantastic.” Draco shrugs as if it’s nothing, but you can tell that he’s secretly thrilled himself.

“It was fairly easy against Ravenclaw. Gryffindor’s next, though, in a couple of weeks. They’ll be the actual competition.” You scoff. “Gryffindor is nothing. You’ll handle them just fine, I promise.” Draco leans forward to kiss you. Even despite the bite of the wind, you can still feel a sudden burst of heat radiating through you. “Well, as long as I’ve got you I know I’ll be fine. I looked for you in the stands, you know.” You smile up at him. “I was there. Always am.”

The whole castle is in a buzz over the game. The Ravenclaw team has been training nonstop in preparation, but Slytherin still beat them easily. At this rate, the Hogwarts final will be a walk in the park. Draco still heads out to the pitch all the time, broom in hand and ready to practice, but you can tell by the ease in his shoulders that he’s ready to win. 

Your footsteps echo through the stone corridors, joining the storm of chatter that bounds off of the arched hallways. You doubt Hogwarts has ever been quiet in its long history- too many students, too many spells, never enough time for silence to draw a breath. As you round a corner, though, you’re struck by a sudden lull in the hubbub that surrounds you. It’s brief, but just enough that you recognize a few voices. Hermione, Ron, and a few others.

You pause. You were intending to go back to your common room and finish up a few essays, but you’ve got no actual plans to fill your time. Why not go chat with your friends? You switch directions, crossing over the hallway to turn around a bend and rejoin the Gryffindors. You’re hidden from them by the stone corner of the wall, and you’re almost about to catch up to them when you hear more of their conversation. With a sinking feeling, you realize you know exactly what they’re talking about.

Ron is speaking now. “-and that’s what I was talking about. Quidditch tryouts are going to be opening up next year, and a lot of the oldest members of the team will be leaving. I’d go out and practice, but the field’s swamped with everyone trying to do the same thing I am and learn broom skills before the summer.” Hermione clicks her tongue understandingly. “I have the same issue around exam season. All I want to do is go to the library in peace, and then it’s swarmed with all the kids doing their best not to fail.”

She hesitates a second. “Actually, remind me if you’ve got any brooms to spare. Y/N and I were talking about going over some Quidditch skills. Everyone around us plays the sport, and all flying lessons stopped after the first year. We were thinking it would do some good to have a refresher on the finer points of broomstick flying.” Ron laughs, muttering something about the finer points of broomstick flying, really, Hermione, you’re making it sound so dull under his breath. However, a new voice rings out beside them, and you realize that you recognize it. It’s Oliver Wood, captain of the Gryffindor Quidditch team. He must still be anxious over the recent Slytherin victory and the upcoming crushing defeat awaiting the Gryffindors, because his voice is cold.

“The Slytherin? Why the hell would you want that?” It’s not just the fact that he didn’t say your name, or the way you can practically see him turning to Hermione in shock. It’s the disgust in his voice, the sheer revulsion in his voice at the thought of ever speaking to you. He says Slytherin in the same way you might say vermin or dementor, and it cuts you to the core. You’re remembering key facets of Oliver Wood now, the way he clings to the Gryffindor-Slytherin rivalry with as much fervor as he does to his broom. He would never see you as anything more than a snake, and to be honest, the same is likely true with Ron and Hermione. They’re not defending you right now, are they? No, they’re just continuing on with the conversation.

You feel sick to your stomach. You had considered them friends, people you could talk with and not regret a thing. Did they see you as anything more than the one average Slytherin, someone they would tolerate to your face and loathe behind your back? You turn away from them, shouldering your bag and walking hurriedly back down the hall so they can’t see you. You head straight down towards the Slytherin common rooms, but with every step you can feel your spirits sinking. One of the worst hurts is when a friend insults you, but this is worse. They don’t even think of you as a friend, and they would have no problems with tossing you aside.

Finally, you reach the seemingly innocuous stretch of stone wall that marks the entrance to the Slytherin common room. You stand before it, muttering the password under your breath. “Hemlock.” The wall slides away, revealing the long-awaited common room. Usually, your eye would be drawn to the intricately carved stone ceiling and columns, the tall bookcases of dark wood that house every manuscript you can think of, but not today. Even the roaring fire in its wrought iron gate seems cold, the emerald-cushioned chairs unappealing. You feel like you have a lump in your throat that seems to choke you if you even think of straying by the other students, and so you hurry on your way to your dorm. You’re not sure you want to be alone right now, but it’s better than having to force yourself to speak to anyone else.

However, it doesn’t look like you’ll get the opportunity to finally escape. A voice calls out to you as you cross the common room, and you groan inwardly as you realize it’s Draco. His tone is light, unburdened, but it hesitates with worry as he takes in your twisted face. He walks over to you, taking your hand in his. “Are you alright?” You try to tell him that you’re fine, cook up some lie that you’re just tired, but your tongue doesn’t seem to want to move. His eyes glance over the students clustered around the fire and chairs, unwanted ears that could hear your conversation, and an understanding seems to dawn on him.

Instead, he guides you over to the window seat on the far side of the common room, the one that holds the swirling waters of the lake behind it instead of a view of the grounds. He sits down, reaching out for you. He pulls you close, letting your head rest against his chest. Your legs stretch out over the window seat, and you watch as the shifting lights of the lake tint the air around you a comforting green. Draco’s voice is quiet when he finally speaks. 

“Do you want to tell me what happened?” You sigh. “It’s nothing, just- Well, I was walking back here and I heard Ron, Hermione, and a couple of other Gryffindors talking. My name came up, and one of them seemed so disapproving, like he hated me just because of my house. I know we do the same thing to them, probably worse, but it still hurt in the moment.” You can feel him tensing underneath you, head tilting slightly in anger. You look up at him, shaking your head slightly. “Don’t do anything. I don’t even think they thought about it much. It’s not worth it to get a detention so close to the game.”

Draco presses a kiss to your forehead. “You’re too nice to them. They don’t deserve to be around you, and if they can’t see that, then I pity them. You’re far better than any of them, and they know it. They’re probably scared.” You chuckle quietly. “Only you could turn an insult into a compliment. I’m not sure they’re scared of me, I’m not very threatening.” Draco runs his fingers absentmindedly over your arm, tracing invisible patterns into your skin. “Maybe you’re not looking hard enough. I think you could hex any one of them into the hospital wing if you tried.”

You laugh in spite of yourself. “I think you just want me to hex them.” Draco smiles. “What’s wrong with that?” You roll your eyes, but you can already feel your mood lightening. “Thank you for listening.” Draco pulls you closer to him, nestling your head against his heart. “I’d do it any day you ask. You know that.” And you do.

[drmmyrs]

The Way I Loved You (Poppy x MC)

Soo bear with me since I think this might be a long series. This part is mostly just establishing the story so there is little to no fluff yet.

But stiiill, let me know what you guys think and I’d really appreciate feedback/constructive criticism. Hope you enjoy and if not, thanks for reading anyways :)) 

tag list: @whackawriting @samanthadalton @crazzyplays @uselesslesbianfr (ithis is my taglist I thiiink, but if you wanna be added or removed just let me know)  

Pairing: Poppy x MC (Bea)

Word Count: 1650

Warning: Little swearing (at least for this part)

A/N: This is from the part before Poppy and MC were paired for a project

Bea had been at Belvoire for two months now, but she still wasn't used to waking up on a queen-sized canopy bed fitted with luxe sateen sheets in a bedroom which probably cost more than her family's house back at Farmsville. She glanced at the clock–11:30 am. She still had some time to spare before her first class. How people managed to wake up early on this luxurious bed made of clouds, she didn't know.

After a few more minutes of daydreaming, Bea begrudgingly pulled herself out of bed. She was preparing her outfit when the smell of heaven wafted through the bedroom door–bacon and pancakes. Like some kind of puppet on strings, Bea let herself be led by the delicious aroma to the kitchen where Zoey was expertly pouring pancake batter on a pan.

"I didn't know I was roommates with a master chef," Bea jested.

Zoey turned around at Bea's voice, and as she saw her, a smirk crawled up her lips.

"Well, don't you look sexy." Zoey eyed Bea up and down with an amused look on her face.

Bea glanced down at her outfit and saw that she was still in her pajamas. "Whatever Zo, not everyone can rock designer outfits even in bed."

"Hey, I'm not complaining. Besides, Spongebob PJs do have a certain charm."

Bea rolled her eyes while smiling. "So, what are we having for breakfast?"

"I'm pretty sure it's lunch. And aren't you supposed to be in class, like, right about now?"

"Nah, my Tuesday classes aren't until one o'clock."

Zoey stared at Bea. "Babe, it's Wednesday."

Bea's eyes widened at Zoey's words. "No, no, no, Professor Roberta is gonna kill me."

Bea rushed to her room and hastily changed her clothes faster than she thought was possible. She contemplated going to class au naturel, but ultimately decided against it. Bea was not ugly by any means without makeup, but in a sea of extremely contoured cheeks and false eyelashes, having no makeup was basically social suicide, especially since Poppy was in that class. Ugh, great. Of course, I'm late to the only class I have with Poppy.

When Bea thought she was presentable enough, she sprinted out the door but not before grabbing a handful of pancakes and shoving it to her mouth, looking like a chipmunk in the process. The T is gonna have a field day if someone saw me like this. Bea slowed her sprint to a stride as she swallowed the last of the pancakes.

Bea arrived in class forty-five minutes late.

"Look who finally decided to join us," Professor Roberta said in disdain.

"Sorry Professor, won't happen again."

"I'm sure it won't. And since you decided to join us so late, you're gonna have to work with Ms. Min-Sinclair over here for your community service project."

Oh hell no.

Sure enough, Poppy was sitting alone, glaring at her, and Bea could almost swear she could see smoke coming out of her nose.

Bea hesitantly sat down beside Poppy.

"Look Poppy, let's be civil about this and finish this project fast so we–"

"We're not going to do anything, Farmsville. I will ace this project and you will stay out of my damn way."

"Like hell I'm gonna let you take all the credit."

"Is there a problem here?" The professor glowered at Poppy and Bea.

"None professor, we were just calmly discussing the details of the project," Poppy responded with a fake smile.

Bea rolled her eyes. Kiss ass.

Once the professor was out of earshot, Poppy sharply turned to Bea. "Be ready on Friday, we're going to a foster home in Middletown."

"Middletown? But that's like an hour away!"

"I don't see you coming up with better ideas," Poppy hissed.

"I–I–"

"I thought so. Do not be late, Farmsville. I don't want you taking more of my time than you already do," Poppy said with a glare before she grabbed her Chanel purse and strode away.

***

Back at her dorm, Bea was resting her head on her hands on the dining table when Zoey arrived.

Upon seeing Bea, Zoey immediately took a seat beside her and placed her hand comfortingly on her shoulder. "Aww, babe. Was Professor Roberta that mad?"

Bea turned to face Zoey. "No, but it was much, much worse."

Zoey raised her eyebrow.

"I was paired with Satan for our project."

"Poppy?"

Bea nodded. "She even wanted to do the project in Middletown. Middletown. That's like an hour away! I mean surely there has to be another community that needs servicing that doesn't require an hour drive with Poppy."

Zoey pretended to think thoughtfully. "Hmm, maybe she finally found a way to get rid of you permanently?"

"I'm serious, Zo." Bea glared at Zoey.

Zoey laughed. "Okay, okay, sorry. But do bring holy water just in case."

Bea groaned and stood up from the chair before ambling to her bedroom. "I'm going to bed."

Before Bea was able to shut the door, Zoey called out after her. "You'll survive, babe! Give her hell for me."

***

Just a few minutes after Bea got back from her classes, she heard the sound of consecutive horns outside which she immediately knew were from Poppy. No one else is obnoxious enough to disturb an entire dormitory. With a sigh, Bea grabbed her things and trudged outside.

When Bea got outside, Poppy's Range Rover was parked at the curb. Bea walked to the passenger's side and opened the door.

"Be a dear will you and don't touch anything, I don't want your filthy hands staining my car."

Bea rolled her eyes. Hello to you, too.

The first few minutes of the drive were silent except for the light rain that started drizzling on the windshield, that is, until Bea asked Poppy, "why are we going all the way to Middletown anyway? There's probably some–"

"Remember that time when I asked for your opinion?"

Bea just glared at Poppy.

"Me neither. So, shut up, Hughes."

"How about you take a day off from being a bitch, Poppy. Seeing that you've had your whole life being just that," Bea rebuked.

The entire car ride was spent with both girls hurling insults at each other that it was honestly surprising that Poppy didn't kick Bea out of the car in the middle of the road.

After one looong hour, they finally arrived.

"Don't get in my way, Farmsville," Poppy warned as she approached the house and rang the doorbell. After a few moments, a middle-aged woman opened the door.

"Poppy! What a pleasant surprise. Come on in." The woman gestured them inside.

Hang on, how does she know Poppy?

The woman led Bea and Poppy to a couch and asked them if they wanted something to drink, to which both of them politely declined.

"So, Brenda. How is the family?" Poppy was wearing a smile that might actually be... genuine?

Bea stared at Poppy in shock. Not only were they on a first-name basis, but Poppy was actually nice to someone that doesn't involve sucking up.

"They're doing great! Thomas actually just got promoted recently so we're gonna take the kids somewhere nice sometime next week."

"That's amazing, send Thomas my regards."

Okay, what the hell is happening?

After a few more polite conversations, Brenda turned to Bea. "You haven't introduced me to your friend yet." Brenda extended her hand to Bea. "I'm Brenda."

Bea wore her biggest smile as she shook Brenda's hand. "Bea. It's a pleasure to meet you."

Poppy cleared her throat. "Actually, we came here for a community service project, and we were hoping that we could throw the kids a small party and maybe at the same time we can do a photography shoot that can be shared to prospective families. Do you think we can do that?"

"Oh, certainly! I'm sure the kids would love that."

"That's great to hear. Where are they anyway?"

"They're actually out there playing with the toys you sent them. Come on, I'll lead you to them." Brenda stood up and walked towards the back door.

Poppy started to follow her but turned around when she noticed Bea was still sitting down.

"If you're just gonna sit there like a half-wit, do us a favor Farmsville, and do it far away from here."

Still in disbelief, Bea stood up and followed Poppy and Brenda to the yard where Poppy was greeted enthusiastically by five kids. She watched as Poppy played with them with such kindness and compassion that she couldn't help but smile as most of her anger towards the blonde was replaced with warmth and some other indescribable feelings. After a few more games where Bea was basically manhandled by Poppy to join, all of them went back inside exhausted. As it was already getting late, Bea and Poppy said their farewells to Brenda and the kids with a promise of returning on Sunday for the party and went back on the road.

Bea had so many questions she wanted to ask Poppy but the look on Poppy's face implied that she probably won't be answering any of those. A few minutes later, there was suddenly a huge downpour of rain that Poppy had to park the car. Bea then received a text from Zoey, and as she read it, a look of dread flashed across her face.

Poppy frowned upon seeing the look on Bea's face. "What is it now?"

"There's a typhoon. We're stuck here."

***

Bea and Poppy managed to find a decent hotel nearby where they decided to stay until the typhoon passed.

"Two rooms, please. And make them as far away as possible," Poppy said to the receptionist while handing him her credit card, giving Bea a glare at the last sentence.

And here I thought we're finally making progress.

"I'm sorry Ms. Min-Sinclair, we only have one more room available for tonight."

[sevlgi]

the florist pt. 2

requested: yes

group: dreamcatcher

pairing: jiu x fem!reader

genre: angst, questionable fluff

contents: hanahaki!au, florist!jiu.  read part 1 here.

warnings: death

synopsis:  Minji’s drawing away. You know that; you can see it, and you can feel it deep in your bones. But when you finally realize the pain afflicting her, will it be too late for you to save her?

a/n: I’M SORRY THIS IS BASICALLY FULL ANGST ASLKDFFDSKJN... i’ll do a part 3 if y’all want it 😬

word count: 3.6k

Sometimes, the arrival of a new person changes the way you see things.

That fact had been true for Minji for years; meeting people always taught her something new, whether it was about the world or about herself. And yet, no one had ever been able to change her thoughts about her 6 closest friends, until she found a beautiful girl in her flower shop, begging for help with the blooms in her lungs.

She didn’t mean to resent Siyeon. She shouldn’t have-- you were a stranger, just another person that used your personal connection to her friends to guilt her into helping you. But when Minji saw how dismissive you were to even the possibility of asking Siyeon to save your life, she realized something about her friend, and she realized something about you.

On one hand, Siyeon knew what she could or couldn’t do to help others. Minji had seen her go out of her way to pick up a fallen grocery basket for someone or help an old lady across the street, but she would never try to lift a car to save someone underneath. She knew her limits, and Minji had to accept that it wasn’t selfish of her to protect herself.

But on the other hand, you were selfless. Too much so, really. You hated the thought of inconveniencing the girl you loved, even if it meant that you would die. It took too long for you to convince yourself to even ask Gahyeon for help, just because you knew how touchy of a subject it was for her.

Maybe Minji loved that about you, at the same time that she hated it. And maybe it was something that she hated about herself as she stared at the speckled purple blossoms swimming about in the toilet bowl.

“Shit,” she whispered, wiping droplets of blood off her lips. “It’s getting worse.”

“Obviously.”

Gahyeon looked more grim than sympathetic as she offered a box of tissues to the older girl. She experienced the disease herself for long enough that she knew how painful it was, and she was smart enough to know that Minji didn’t have much time. “How long has it been?”

“8 months.” Minji gingerly plucked petals out from under her tongue, flicking them away. “I met Y/N 8 months ago.”

She could’ve smiled just by saying your name, but she kept her face solemn as Gahyeon did the math in her head. “8 months. It takes 3 months to fall in love, but knowing you, it was probably shorter.”

Minji rolled her eyes, taking a sip of water. “Watch it.”

“I’m just saying,” Gahyeon protested. “But at most, you’ve had Hanahaki for 7 or 8 months. So why are you basically on your deathbed? Y/N told me she loved Siyeon unnie nearly 2 years before she even bothered to ask me for help.”

“Maybe my heart is just weak,” the florist sighed, leaning her head against the wall. “It’s my fault, I fell for a client. A client, Gahyeon, how stupid am I?”

The younger girl scooted closer, wrapping her arms softly around Minji. “You aren’t. Okay? Y/N is amazing, and if I wasn’t so hung up on... if I had the time for it, I could see myself loving her too. You should--”

“Don’t,” Minji warned, eyes narrowing. “Don’t tell me to tell her. I can’t put that on her, and I can’t let her know that I’m in... that I’m in pain because of her.”

“You’re one and the same, you know that?” Gahyeon shook her head. “The exact same.”

But no matter how much she griped, Minji knew that her friend wouldn’t reveal the secret, not until she was lying on her deathbed. She was trustworthy, and she would leave Minji to her own solutions if she asked for it.

Finding a real solution was what would become the problem.

“Hey, Minji!”

Even though you felt awkward with your shoulder pressed up to your face and bags in your hand, you smiled as you squeezed the phone closer to your face. The florist hadn’t picked up on your call, but you didn’t fault her for being busy. “Uh, I’m coming to you to make Gahyeon’s cake like we promised.”

You cursed as you dropped one of the grocery bags, taking your phone in your hand to finish the message so you could check out. “I’m almost there, so wait up for me! I got some special supplies for you too.”

Rounding the corner onto the Love Blossom, you fished your keys out from your pocket. There was a pink jewel-studded one on the chain, new as of just 8 months ago, but it felt like it had always belonged there as you twisted the lock and pushed the glass door open.

To your surprise, Gahyeon was waiting inside, almost looking like she was shielding the door to Minji’s apartment. “Hey, Gahyeonie,” you greeted, attempting to wave. “Good to see you.”

“Hi, Y/N. What’re those for?” she asked, nodding her head at the bags. “Baking again?”

“Yeah, you know me.” You craned your neck, trying to see if Minji was fixing a bouquet somewhere, but you didn’t find the brunette anywhere. Gahyeon, standing smack in the middle of the shop and blocking the door, didn’t help. “Is Minji here?”

“Oh, yeah. She’s just... finishing something.” The younger girl’s smile was disarming, obviously hiding something and yet innocent enough that you could’ve just been paranoid. “You don’t mind waiting, do you?”

Your eyes narrowed, but you shook your head. “So, uh, how’s Siyeon?”

Gahyeon softened at that, sighing, “Still not ready to see you. I’m sorry, she... she feels guilty now, that Minji and I had to help you not die.”

“It’s okay.” To be honest, it was true; despite all the feelings you’d invested into her, Siyeon couldn’t break you just yet, not even after you barely recovered from the Hanahaki disease. “I’ll give her time.”

“I’m grateful for that,” the other girl smiled, squeezing your arm. “On her behalf.”

Before either of you could say something more, the hidden door creaked open to reveal a Minji that was decidedly more gaunt than when you had last seen her. Her cheeks were hollow, lips pale and dark circles unable to be hidden by the layers of makeup she wore. “Oh. Hey, Y/N, what’re you doing here?”

You raised the bags in your hand in answer. “Baking? We agreed a couple weeks ago.”

“Oh!” Minji attempted an apologetic smile, though you still got the feeling that she didn’t really remember. “Right. Gahyeon, I’m fine, you can go home.”

“Are you sure?” the younger girl eyed the florist critically. “Because--”

“Gahyeon. I’m good.” Minji’s tone left no room for argument, and Gahyeon merely waved at you before making her way out. Finally only the two of you left in the shop, the brunette opened her door for you. “Sorry about that. Come in?”

Despite not really wanting to overstep, you blurted out, “So. What was that about? If you’re sick, I can easily go home and bake there...”

“No, I’m good!” Minji tried her best to grin, but something was just lacking. You also noted that she did her best not to touch you, skirting around the kitchen table to be on the other side. “Did you get chocolate like I asked?”

“I did,” you nodded, accepting the fact that she wouldn’t talk about it until she was ready. After all those months, you learned that when Minji was stubborn, there really was nothing that could change her mind. “Chocolate because Gahyeon likes it, but I also got vanilla to make cupcakes for anyone who doesn’t like it?”

She clapped and you played along by bowing, though she stopped so she could start to taking ingredients out of the bag for you. “Oh-- what’s this?” she frowned at the can of coconut cream she held in her hand.

“That--” you snatched it out of her hand-- “is for you. I learned how to make coconut mousse recently, and I thought that while I’m here, I might as well treat you.”

Minji opened her mouth to speak with a smile, but she was interrupted with a sudden fit of coughing. You reached to grab water for her, concern parting your lips, but she waved you away. “I- I’m fine. A bit of a cold, that’s all, I’ll be right back.”

With that, she ascended to her loft again, leaving you with coconut cream in your hands and confusion written all over your face. In all the 8 months that you had known her, Minji hadn’t gotten sick once; she brought you chicken soup when you got the flu and miraculously avoided it, claiming herself to have “immunity superpowers” with that amazingly infectious smile. So it was weird for her to be so affected by a simple cough.

But as you turned back to your cake recipe, you tried to write it off. After all, she’d saved you already... she didn’t owe you any explanations.

Yubin was sweet. A lot quieter than Minji, but she was that calm kind of funny that didn’t really require being boisterous to invoke laughter from you, and you definitely didn’t mind it. “Thank you for coming to shop with me,” you mentioned as you bent down to stare at the label on a folded jacket. “Minji said she’d come, but she’s really busy lately.”

“Yeah, she can be like that sometimes,” Yubin shrugged, pointing a decorative cup out to you. “She insists that she doesn’t like to burden us or whatever.”

“That’s bullshit, but it sounds like her,” you sighed. You folded the jacket over your arm and picked up the cup on your way to the register, Yubin following with her gift for Gahyeon already hanging on her arm. “But I can’t help but think that she’s hiding something from me... just me.”

The younger girl raised an eyebrow. “Really? I mean, Minji’s been quiet recently, but I don’t think she’s treating you any different. If anything, she’s nicer to you than she is to the rest of us.”

You chuckled at that and passed your credit card over the counter. “Right. She is being really nice to me, almost weirdly nice. You know, I brought my baking supplies over to her the other day, and she didn’t even try to throw flour in my face. It’s weird.”

“You’re right that that doesn’t sound like Minji,” Yubin frowned, opening the shop’s door for you as you walked out. “I don’t know, she’s like a different person after meeting you. Doesn’t talk to Siyeon much--”

At the guilty expression on your face, she stopped talking. “Y/N, it isn’t your fault. Minji... she’s just too kind. She never understood how our friend, who saw the effects of Hanahaki herself, could just let you die.”

“Isn’t it my fault though?” You tilted your head to the sky, observing the fluffy white clouds that floated over the skyscrapers of Seoul. “I gave her that responsibility of healing me, she wouldn’t have given a shit if she didn’t have to heal me.”

“Well, if you think that, then you still don’t know Minji well enough.” The other girl laughed softly, shaking her head. “See, it’s less about letting you die and more about letting someone else die. We all know that Siyeon-unnie couldn’t love you on command, but Minji thinks she was callous with how she rejected you.”

“Yubin...”

She held up a hand so that you’d let her continue to talk. “See, she’s selfless. She could’ve turned you away, no matter how much Gahyeon tried to convince her, but she didn’t. Minji can’t handle the thought of not doing something when she could, but she would also never impose on others.”

“Do you think that’s what’s happening?” you asked suddenly. “Is she sick or something, and won’t tell us?”

Yubin hesitated to answer, her expression conflicted. “I want to say no. But it’s... more likely than not.”

You almost reached for your phone, but you remembered how curt Minji’s text messages had been in the past month, and how often she had blown you off. “Huh. Well, I guess we’ll just have to ask her tomorrow.”

“Yeah. Coffee?” your new friend offered, stopping in front of a small coffee store. You followed her in, more and more worried about the florist as you thought about her. Your heart was beating uncomfortably in your chest again, as quick as it had been when you had Hanahaki, just without the unrequited love clogging your lungs like so many months ago.

You leaped onto Bora’s back as soon as you saw her, laughing as she shrieked. Gahyeon, who had been talking to Bora, grinned at the sight of you in your sparkly outfit. “Gahyeonie, happy birthday!”

“Thanks, Y/N.” She took the gift from your hands to set it down on a table, Bora hitching you up higher on her back. “Now that you’re here, will you convince Handong-unnie to let me see the cake?”

“Not a chance,” you sing-songed, sticking your tongue out at the pouting birthday girl. “I spent hours on that cake, I’m not letting you see it before the grand reveal with Minji. Where is she, by the way?”

“Minji?” Bora frowned, finally giving up and letting you down onto the floor. The petite woman scanned the apartment with her lips pursed, swishing her specialty punch in the cup she held. “Mm. I don’t think I’ve seen her today.”

Your eyebrows furrowed at that, and you stepped further into the living room to try and catch the florist among the throng of celebrators. “Really? That’s unlike her, I would’ve thought she’d be here first.”

“I think Siyeon stepped up for organization this time,” Gahyeon offered. “I can... ask her for you?”

You were tempted to agree; after all, it had been nearly a year and a half since you had confessed and gotten painfully pushed away. But then, you had to know where Minji was for yourself-- any information, even if it was given to you by Gahyeon, wasn’t trustworthy unless you heard it for yourself. “It’s fine,” you sighed. “I’ll go.”

“Y/N, are you sure?” Bora asked quietly, catching you in your stride with her hands on your arm. “She’s not exactly friendly towards you.”

“I’m good,” you smiled in an attempt to reassure her. “Really.”

Once you left the two behind, it wasn’t tough to find Siyeon. She stood in the kitchen with Handong, laughing at some joke or the other that you couldn’t hear over the music. To your alarm, your heart hurt a little bit at how beautiful she looked, blonde hair lengthened by extensions and lips colored; but it wasn’t the disease, just a normal twinge of remaining heartbreak as you approached her. “Hey.”

She didn’t turn until the hostess pushed her to. “Y/N. Hello.”

You pursed your lips at her attitude. “Look, I don’t want to talk to you either. All I need to know is where Minji is.”

“Minji...” Siyeon frowned at that, turning to look at Handong, who shrugged. “She still hasn’t shown up? The party started hours ago...”

Handong offered, “She texted me a little while ago, she said she had a cough? It’s not like Minji to be sick, but I’m sure a cough is no problem.”

“A cough?”

The three of you turned to find Gahyeon behind you, her expression a mixture of grim and absolutely horrified. “Gahyeonie..?” Siyeon asked, panic seeping into her voice just like it did yours.

“Y/N, you need to come with me” was the youngest’s only answer as she grabbed onto your wrist. “We don’t have enough time, Bora can drive you to the LB. And--”

“Hey, Gahyeon, what the hell is going on?” you asked, quieting yourself when she hushed you. “Is Minji sick? And if she is, why wouldn’t you tell us? We can buy her medicine--”

“She has Hanahaki.” Your eyes widened immediately and you stopped in your tracks, ignoring Gahyeon tugging at you. She gave up, and tried to soften her words. “Y/N... Minji loves you. And you don’t love her back.”

You stammered, attempting to find the right words to respond. But there didn’t seem to be any-- none of the sentences on the tip of your tongue could even come close to describing what you wanted to say, so you could only settle or saying, “What?”

Gahyeon pinched her lips together, typing something furiously on her phone. “Yeah. It’s progressing too fast, I think, she was on the brink of death when you saw her last. Coughing out full blossoms already, and I’ve already found her choking on her own blood twice.”

“But...” Your mind raced, trying your best to find an explanation. “I’ve only known her for 10 months.”

“That’s how much she loves you, I guess,” Gahyeon shrugged, turning as Bora bounded down the stairs. “Please save her. It might be too late, but- but I don’t want Minji to die without seeing you one last time.”

Bora grabbed you then, not giving you a minute to even ask if it was okay to leave. It was a short bound to her car in the driveway, and the both of you seemed just as desperate to reach the florist when Bora pressed down on the pedals with close to her full force.

You came dangerously close to crashing into at least 10 cars, and you were sure that you had run a red light, but there was nothing else on your mind as you slammed the car door closed and kicked the door to the flower shop right open. “Minji!” you shouted, craning your neck to try and see up to the loft. “Minji, where are you?!”

At the sound of some weak coughing, you were leaping up the stairs, gripping onto the banisters to move even faster. And there she was, looking all too frail and weak in her bed.

There was a spray of blood on the pale pink comforter, wrapped around her body with minimal effort, and Minji’s eyes were barely fluttering open. “Y/N,” she croaked, hand creeping up to touch your face as you fell to your knees right next to her. Her voice was hoarse, almost gone from the months of coughing up mallow blossoms and blood. “You came.”

“I... of course I came.” Your voice was shaky, and there were hot tears already spilling down your face. “Minji, why wouldn’t you tell me?”

“Not- not your responsibility,” she coughed out. “I couldn’t let you feel guilty for what’s happening to me. It’s not your fault, Y/N, that you don’t love me.”

You sobbed out at that, wiping your eyes roughly with the palms of your hands. “Minji, please...”

The girl lying before you could barely be called a shell of Minji, and no matter what you said, it could only be your fault that her eyes were as sunken as a skull’s. It could only be your face that her wrist was as delicate as that of a bird, that her hand wasn’t even able to support the weight of your head as you slumped down to sob next to her.

There was nothing bright shining in those brown eyes anymore, none of the light that exploded into a thousand golden sparkles whenever you baked her favorite pastries or arranged a bouquet just right. There was no smile on her parched lips, no laughter shaking her entire body or a stupid joke that no one really understood.

All the memories of the Minji that you remembered flooded into your mind, like videos flickering over the nearly-dead girl that you could see in front of you. Minji when she spent hundreds of dollars for your birthday bouquet, Minji when she took you as a plus-one to her favorite concert. Minji when she smiled at coconut tarts, Minji when she presented you with your very own apron for the shop.

Was there something I could’ve said to make your heart beat better?

Said. As what could’ve been Minji’s last breaths began to escape her lungs, your head shot up and your heads reached out to cradle her to your chest, your lips moving faster than you could’ve ever imagined to say those three words out loud. “I love you. Kim Minji, I love you I love you I love you so much, please don’t leave me--”

You couldn’t feel her breathing against you with the force of the sobs racking your entire body, rocking back and forth on the edge of her bed with your hands wrapped around what was left of her familiar frame. “Please,” you cried, her hair damp against your cheek with your own tears. “Please...”

And with the last plea that escaped your lips, she drew in a rattling breath, only to cough it back out with a good 2 blossoms or so. You gasped, holding her away from you and patting her back to help as Minji vomited purple speckled blossoms onto her bed. 

“You said it,” she rasped, collapsing. All you could do was continue to cry, the salt of your tears finally tasting sweet on your lips instead of bitter like they did when you thought that the girl you loved was dead. 

“Thank you.”

[authorialarcanist]

It Seems I'll Never Understand (Kagerou Project)

Genre: Angst

Rating: Mature

Pairing(s): Tateyama Ayano x Kisaragi Shintaro

Summary: "...Hey, Shintaro. Why'd you do it? I mean... You could have stayed out of it. It wasn't your fight."

In a world where Shintaro Kisaragi was the one who killed himself on that fateful august day two years prior, Ayano isn't sure what she can do with her life. Living in fear of the Snake of Clearing Eyes, all she can do is think back on the past, and wonder - why it was that her best friend took her place when she's sure he must have hated her, and when was it that it all went wrong.

Shinaya roleswap with a focus on making it work with as few changes to canon as possible.

---

It’s late - late enough that it’s gotten truly dark out. I’m walking along the road to my home, a boy next to me. The bridge we’re crossing seems to stretch out endlessly into the distance, illuminated only by the moon and the street-lamps we’re passing by.

I fiddle with my scarf absentmindedly as I steal a glance at his face. I’m so glad… I was finally able to become friends with him. Or, well… maybe ‘friends’ isn’t the right word just yet. To him, I’m sure I’m still just that stupid girl who made him tutor her for hours after class.

Still… I tell myself that this is the most important first step. Mm-hm. Now that I’ve introduced myself, I’m sure that we’ll be friends - real friends - in no time at all.

“You really saved my life! I never would’ve been able to finish that problem set on my own.” I grin weakly as my babbling inevitably turns to self-deprecation. Ah, well… after my terrible performance back there, trying to act cool for my new friend was a lost cause already. Well, if this was a manga, at least this might be the part where the aloof genius breaks character to reassure me that I can do it?

“Even with my help, it took you way too long…” He sighs. “Geez. I only came here to get my wallet, too. I must be really unlucky.”

—Yeah, right. I’ve only known this guy for a few hours now, but it’s pretty obvious that tender support isn’t his strong suit.

“I really am sorry…” I shrink a little under his criticism. “But! I promise, I won’t forget about today!”

“What are you saying? Didn’t you just say you forget things no matter how much you study?” Ow… I guess I did say that, but… he really has no faith in me at all, huh?

But he just doesn’t get it! Not quite panicking, I redouble my efforts to explain myself. “Today’s special! I’m going to try extra hard not to forget, so it’ll be okay!”

He hums in contemplation and stares away into the distance. And then—

—“Liar.”

I recoil from the sudden accusation. “Huh? What are you talking about?”

“You’ve broken your promise already, haven’t you? You can’t even remember my name.”

He picks up his pace, and though I try to follow, I can’t seem to move forward.

“Huh? Of course I can!”

“Really? Then why haven’t you said it?”

“Why are you so focused on that all of a sudden?”

“Say it, Ayano.”

“Stop it!”

“Say my name.”

“I— You’re—“ Tears spill from my eyes. I’m trying to say it. Why — why is this happening? Why couldn’t we just keep walking together, chatting about nothing important, like friends do?

“…Yeah. I thought so.” He stops walking, and for some reason, I freeze as well. I have no choice but to watch his back as he speaks. “I guess it’s not your fault, though. Sorry.” He shakes his head. “But… Try to remember, okay?”

He turns to face me again.

His eyes are red.

“If you can’t remember soon, then—“

——

Knock. Knock. Knock. Three hesitant raps on my door.

The sound wakes me from my dream. Already, it’s growing too hazy to remember. All I can say for certain is that hewas there.

He’s always there in my dreams. Maybe it’s some cruel balance for the fact that he’ll never be there again in real life.

“Ayano?”

At the sound of the voice calling for me, I turn over in my bed and bury my face in my pillow, trying not to make any sound to indicate that I’m awake.

“Ayano, please, I know you’re in there. I just want to talk.”

I don’t respond. My father is dead. That’s the best way to think of it. The safest way to think of it. Even when the snake lets him out, it’s only in the hopes of getting me to snap.

“Ayano, I’m sorry. I know I haven’t been the best father to you, since your mother died. But please, I just want to know what happened. What happened to Shuuya and Tsubomi and Kousuke. Why you won’t talk to me. Ayano, please.”

My hands clench against the pillow. I force myself to breathe. In. Out. In. Out.

“Ayano…”

In.

Out.

“…Just… think about it, okay? I’m here, if you’re ever ready to talk. Even if you need another two years, I’ll still be here.”

A lie. Dad won’t be here. Just the snake.

“…I love you.”

I stay silent, waiting until the sound of footsteps fades from my hearing. No matter how many times I go through this, it never gets any easier. But… I can’t talk to him.

Even if the snake wasn’t privy to his every thought, I can’t bring myself to speak with the man who sold my world.

“…Is… he gone?” A tinny voice whispers from my computer’s speaker.

I listen for a moment. When nothing happens, I nod. “Yeah.”

My computer monitor lights up as it exits sleep mode, and a girl in blue peeks out from her hiding place behind a browser window. “…I still don’t understand why you don’t leave here, Ayano-chan…”

I shake my head. “I… I just can’t. I’m sorry, Ene.” Ene… that’s what this girl calls herself. About a year ago, she popped out of an email and decided to stick around. She tried to put on this sassy, hyper front at first, but it fell apart pretty quickly.

I’m pretty sure I know who she really is, after all. And she knows I know. I just haven’t been cruel enough to push the topic.

It’s not like she has much of anywhere else to go, after all.

“…Okay. I get it.” She looks down at the taskbar and pokes her index fingers together. “Just… hang in there, okay, Ayano-chan? Do your best.”

“Like my best has ever mattered,” I mumble, and sit down at my computer chair. To be honest, my activities since dropping out of school two years ago have been nothing, nothing, and a heaping dessert of nothing. It’s not like I have any sort of online life to speak of, even. It’s just that… ultimately, there’s nothing else to do when I’m living under the same roof as my father. I can’t risk going outside at the wrong time and having to face him. At least he respects the boundaries of my room; and the snake finds it convenient to leave me a sanctuary under his supervision for as long as he doesn’t have any need of me.

“…So, um… Ayano-chan?” Ene glances up at me, a little shyly. “Can I ask about whether…”

Ah. That. I shake my head. “…I’m sorry. I’ve tried talking to him while my father was away, but Konoha really doesn’t seem to remember anything about us.” Konoha… the white-haired boy the Clearing Eyes took in really is just another reminder of my failures. Still, I know that’s not hisfault, and I can’t really blame Ene for being too scared to check up on him herself. Talking to him hurts badly enough for me, and I still hadn’t been quite as close to Haruka as she was. Honestly though, whenever I’d felt safe enough to slip out and check on him, Konoha had seemed pretty nonresponsive. Forget remembering me and Ene; he didn’t seem to remember anything, not even basic things like rain.

“I see…” Ene droops. This happens every time she brings up Konoha; as much as she’s tried to be around for me, I don’t have the first idea how to comfort her when this topic comes up.

Well, honestly, I don’t think I’m in a place to be comforting much of anyone. Back when I tried all those years ago, it only ended in pain.

In the end, I go with the tried and true method of pretending I didn’t see anything. When there’s nothing you can do, acknowledging the problem only ends in more tears, after all. I pass the day mindlessly browsing the web and making more paper cranes for the army that chokes every available surface in my room. Occasionally, I can’t help but fantasize about what things might be like if I had Paper-Animating Eyes. Sending an army of little origami birds to get revenge on the Clearing Eyes… it’d definitely be a more efficient way of getting a wish granted.

Ah well.

At least my father has work during the day and the snake has better things to do than waste time in this lonely house during the nighttime, so I’m able to check on Konoha and grab something from the kitchen for lunch on most days. That’s particularly important, because dinner can be much more spotty, depending on whether my father is in a “bury his problems in work” mood or a “try desperately to be present to make up for selling his soul to an evil snake” one. Well, okay, I really don’t know how much he’s able to retain about what the Clearing Eyes does when in control of his body, but if he really is oblivious about everything that might actually be worse.

Unfortunately he seems to be in a “try to atone” cycle right now, so I’m running off of a single meal when the knocks return once again.

“Ayano.”

Ene hides behind the browser window again, and I click off of the tab showing a video of a mongoose taking down a snake.

…What? Look, I have to deal with the spite somehow.

“I know you’re in there.”

I stay silent.

“I’ve got another mission for you, Ayano. You know the deal by now.”

I freeze. This isn’t dad.

“I trust I don’t need to spell it out for you?”

It’s the other one.

“I’m waiting.Or is this some pathetic attempt at rebellion? If so, I have to applaud. It’s the most pointless one yet.”

I finally find my voice. “I-I understand.”

“Heh. Good.” The snake chuckles. “Two children are coming to stay in this house soon. Your father’s sister-in-law, and some hanger-on. When they’re here, you’re going to be the model of a big sister, understand? Get them to trust you, and then make sure they’re in a certain place on August fifteenth.”

I shrink in on myself. Children? Please, no…

“I said, understand?You know what’ll happen to your family if you refuse…”

“N-no!” I shoot to my feet in panic. “No… I understand…”

“Good.” What should be my father’s voice drips with malice. “See? Wasn’t that easy? Goodbye, Ayano.” Saying the last two words in an odd sing-song voice, the snake leaves. I collapse back into my chair, hugging myself.

“A-ayano-chan…” Ene peeks back out from her hiding spot.

I turn to her with wide eyes.

“Ayano-chan, you don’t have to do this. Please, we can fight back. I’ll help you.”

…If only. But no, I know it’s hopeless.

I can’t fight the snake. All I can do is delay the inevitable.

I shake my head, and start disconnecting the speakers from my computer. If Ene tried to do something brave, and the Clearing Eyes found out…

“…Ayano, please…”

I pull the plug on my monitor. Ene may still have access to the inside of my computer, but the most she’ll be able to do in the house is open and close the CD drive.

“…sorry…” I whisper quietly to myself, even though I know she can’t hear me.

God, how did things turn out this way?

——

I have many precious memories, moments I’ve spent these past two years trying desperately not to forget. Reading storybooks at bedtime with my mom. Meeting my little siblings for the first time. The way my dad’s face used to look when he’d play with us, long before everything happened.

If you were to look through those treasured days, flipping from one to another as though they were files secreted away in a lockbox, one might still stand out from the rest. Perhaps it’s laminated, or hidden behind a false back. Not because it’s more precious than the others - I wouldn’t trade my family for anything - but because it’s unique nonetheless. A moment elevated in its rarity, and in the pain it brings me - not the dull ache of my mom’s face, nor the stabbing betrayal of my father’s failures and mine, but a gaping void of ‘what if’s.

The first time I ever got to see Shintaro smile.

It was during our second year of middle school, a couple months after the day I finally introduced myself. The last test I’d gotten back had been my lowest score yet, and with exams rushing to meet me, I was honestly in a panic.

But then, Shintaro’d spoken up. For the very first time, he gave me a totally unprompted offer to help me study.

“Thank you so much,” I’d sobbed. “I don’t know what I was gonna do…”

“Ugh, don’t be annoying about it!” He’d refused to meet my eyes as he grumbled. “I just know that if you failed your exams I’d somehow get dragged into helping you catch back up. It’s just easier to get this over with this early, alright?”

Whatever his stated reasons, I still felt like I’d been saved when he stuck around to help me pound the latest lessons into my skull. And I don’t know if we finished faster than usual, if something good had happened to him at home, or if his guard was just down that day for some other reason, but one way or another, he decided to stick around and chat for a bit afterwards.

I can still picture it clearly. That sunny classroom, me perched on my desk to bask in the light from the window, him leaning his chair back as we killed time… and the glint of light that drew my eye to the spine of a book just peeking out of his bag.

“Hm? Hey, Shintaro?”

“What?” He glanced lazily back at me.

I tilted my head to read what I could from the spine. It rung a bell; I’d overheard some of the other girls in our class talking about it from time to time. “Isn’t that ‘Let’s Fall In Love’?”

“HUH?” I winced at the sudden crash as Shintaro lost his balance and fell in a heap.

“Ah! Are you okay? I’m sorry!” I rushed to help him up, but he just scrambled back until he was pressed against the wall.

“W-w-w-what are you talking about? I-I don’t, I mean, that’s not—“ Shintaro grabbed suddenly for his bag, but his hand missed its mark and sent the contents spilling out as it toppled over instead. The book landed face up, its cover proudly displaying a drawing of a boy and a girl standing together in a very shoujo-esque artstyle. Emblazoned above the picture was ‘Let’s Fall in Love ~ by Yumeno Sakiko.’

“Umm…”

“I mean! It’s Momo’s! Yeah! My little sister wouldn’t stop pestering me, so I picked up her copy for her, uh-huh! I definitely don’t read shoujo manga!” His stuttering picked up pace as he scrambled for excuses, and I couldn’t help it - some part of me kinda wanted to watch him squirm for a little longer.

So, I grinned slyly and searched my memory of my classmates’ conversations. “Uh-huh? You know, with how Mamiko and Oze were talking in the latest chapter, don’t you think there might be a chance they’ll—“

“THAT’S HERESY!” Shintaro slammed his hands down on the ground, and I winced at the sudden spike in volume. “Mamiko and Suzuki are meantto be together!” He clenched his fist and held it to his chest. “I can’t imagine how anyone would think otherwise after that moment in volume 7! And anyways, Oze and Waka may be having a fight right now, but everyone… knows…” He trailed off as my control failed me and I started to giggle. “…Fine. You caught me. Happy now?”

At the sight of him forcing down a pout and struggling to regain a serious expression, I laughed even harder.

“…So I like shoujo manga. Is it really that funny to you?”

“No, no! I’m sorry!” I did my best to get myself under control. “It’s not that, honestly. You just looked so earnest, and then you kept trying to hide it… If reading that sort of thing makes you happy, then I think that’s a goodthing! It’s actually kinda c—“ I suddenly realized what I was about to say, and blushed heavily. “—I mean, it’s kinda cool! Yeah! You shouldn’t worry what other people will think about your interests, you know?” Oh yeah, that was an absolutely stellarsave, Ayano. Absolutely nobody was gonna suspect that you almost called your classmate ‘cute’ without thinking. Aside from, I dunno, people with eyes.

Thankfully, all of that intelligence must have come out of Shintaro’s perceptiveness instead, because he let it pass without comment. “So…” Shintaro seemed to be looking anywhere in the room other than my face, which might have helped the whole ‘not noticing my face doing a bonfire impression’ thing. “Do… you also read it, then?”

“Huh?”

“Y, you know! ‘Let’s Fall in Love’!”

“A, ah! Right!” I snapped out of my thoughts. Right, let’s just pretend that slip never happened for now, and I can unpack whatever the heck it meant on my own time, when I won’t make my one school friend think I’m even more of a weirdo than he already does. “Ehehe… Not really, actually.” I scratched the back of my head and grinned sheepishly. “I was just parroting something I overheard. I’m more into the shounen stuff, you know? Hot-blooded super sentai fighting to save the world, and all that.”

“Really? But they’re so formulaic. You can see everything coming from a mile away. And how do those guys get through posing dressed like that and not die of embarrassment?”

Well, I couldn’t just sit there and take that. “What? Hold on a moment, like your mushy stuff is any better! Aren’t they all just ‘boy meets girl, cue nothing happening for the rest of their school lives’?”

“Wh— they are not!There’s nuanceand relationship growth and everything!” Woah. Shintaro was looking about the most fired up I’d ever seen him! At that thought, an idea clicked in my head.

“Hmm… Alright, then!” I grinned at him and gave a sharply enunciated chuckle, heh-heh-heh. “Why don’t you tell me more about this series, and if you manage to change my mind I’ll give reading it a try? And then, in return, you’ll watch an episode of Engine Sentai Go-Onger with me, and we’ll see how you feel about heroes after that!”

Shintaro rose to the challenge. “Fine! Come on then, I’ll teach you about why Yumeno-sensei is a master! I mean, her portrayal of Mamiko’s inner struggles alone touches the heart, even for a boy like me! There’s this moment in chapter 12 when she…” He lit up as he talked, gesturing wildly with the plot points. I’m a little ashamed to say that I actually stopped paying attention after a few moments, because my focus suddenly seemed drawn to his face. He was grinning - actually grinning, the first genuine smile I’d seen from him in, well, ever- as he opened up about his interest.

I can only remember thinking two things as we walked home that day.

The first was, ‘What a pretty smile.’

The second was, ‘…oh. Crap.’

…So, yeah. It looked like I maybe had a teeny little crush. That was okay! It was fine! It meant I was finally starting to grow up, right? Anyways, whatever Shintaro’s romance manga said, I was pretty sure that people were supposed to get a lot of those with time. They didn’t have to mean anything, or, y’know, gamble their only real non-family friendships on the chance that someone who was really smart and cute would still want to hang out with a dumb girl they barely tolerated helping out if she asked.

Not a problem! I’d just go about my life as normal, and it’d fade in time. Eventually, I’d probably look back on this day and laugh.

…And if in the meantime, I wanted to see him smiling like that again? Well, that could be my little secret.

——

Of course, let nobody accuse me of being a good planner. Obviously, the darn thing only seemed to get stronger with time. Wanting to see Shintaro smile because I wanted him to be happy slowly morphed into wanting to be the reasonhe was smiling like that. Hoping that maybe, if I could be the one to make this lonely boy smile, that’d mean I was actually worth somethingreally the hero I pretended to be.

Mom died, and I had to be the strength for the whole family as dad seemed like half his world had gone missing, but no matter how much I needed comfort of my own, I wasn’t ready to tell him.

We met Takane and Haruka, and one friend turned into three, but even though I’d only be gambling 33% instead of 100, I was still too scared to tell him.

And then I found out that dad had changed, what the thing in his body had planned for Haruka and Takane and my siblings, and suddenly my stupid little feelings didn’t seem so important. I had to research the read eyes, and I needed Shuuya to cover for me, and in the end I didn’t have the attention to spare for my friend my crush my…

…for Shintaro. Maybe that’s why I didn’t notice our growing distant. Why I didn’t notice things growing strained.

Why I didn’t notice that I really was just burdening him with my own expectations.

Didn’t notice until a hill at sunset, a hand snatched away, his back receding into the distance while I stood alone.

After that, I wondered about a lot of things. How much had been genuine, and how much really had just been putting up with me. How much of my motives had been pure, and how much had been that dark little thrill of seeing him down and feeling like I was still needed.

How cruel it must have been, to plan what I was planning and still try to hold onto his hand until the last minute.

So I didn’t try again. I delegated as much school time as I could to Shuuya (and carefully didn’t wonder why his face was growing more stressed, why his own time seemed to draw thin.) I withdrew further, and dedicated everything I had to my lonely mission. August fifteenth came all too soon at last, and I shoved my responsibilities onto Takane, told her to be honest with her feelings even as I swore that my own were better ignored. I wrapped my scarf around my neck, the colour of a hero, I steeled myself and turned to mount the stairs, and I was interrupted.

“Shuuya? What are you doing?” My little brother had arrived in front of me, hands on his knees as he gasped for breath.

“N, neechan, please!” Panting, Shuuya raised his eyes to meet mine. They glistened with tears. “You have to— you have to stop Shintaro-kun! He’s about to do something really stupid!”

“Huh?” I was taken aback. “What are you talking about?”

“He’s already gone to the roof! I couldn’t do anything! Neechan, please!”

“The roof?” I still didn’t understand, but I burst into a run anyways, leaving my brother behind. Why was Shintaro even here today, when he didn’t need summer school? Why did Shuuya know about it? What could he be doing on the roof, other than…?

He wasn’t involved. God, please, he wasn’t involved, why was he here?

I took the steps two at a time, ignoring the pain shooting through my lungs, and had no choice but to stop for breath and lean against the wall for a moment when I finally reached the door leading outside.

My father’s voice filtered in from outside. No - not my father. The thingwearing his skin. “Honestly, kid.” He sounded mildly exasperated, like my dad did whenever a student had turned in a particularly baffling answer on a quiz. “You think that you’re gonna be the big damn hero? You really think there’s a single thing you can do here to beat me?”

“No.” Shintaro, this time. “Honestly, it’s a stupid plan. Totally useless in every way. But hey.” A dark chuckle. “Objectively speaking, the life of a rotten boy like me is just worthless enough to make it worth trying.”

I’d finally caught my breath, but at that it caught in my throat. Did he mean—

I burst through the door, screaming, “Shintaro, NO!” The roof was empty except for two people. My father, standing on solid ground looking mildly vexed. And Shintaro, clad in that red jersey I’d said I liked, the color of a hero, sitting perched half-on the fence around the edge of the roof and half dangling over open air.

His eyes met mine, and no matter how hard I try I know I’ll never forget the way his face clouded over, the way his eyes darkened, or the words he said to me at that moment.

“…Oh.

“Ayano.

“The very last person I wanted to see.”

His final curse delivered, he leaned back. The world distorted around him, horrible discordant red tearing open fangs in the sky.

And he fell.

I must have screamed, but it’s a blur. I just know that by the time I came to, I’d fallen on my knees, and the thing that took my father was laughing.

Laughing.

“Ha! You kids never fail to surprise me, you know that? I never once would have expected that depressing little thing to get up off his ass and do something like this!” He paused. “Well okay, I guess I would, but the part where he tried to stand up to me was still new.”

Before I even knew what I was doing, I’d jumped to my feet and was tackling him. “SHUT UP!”

“Whoops!” Somehow, my father’s body stepped out of the way before I could react. I found myself impacting concrete and rolling on the roof, scrapes all over my body where I’d fallen. “Come on, brat. You’re a big girl now, you should be used to hearing swear words by now. Or wait, are you angry about the boy?”

With a wordless scream, I threw myself at him again, but this time he casually stuck out a leg and tripped me.

“You might still have time to save him, you know. Throw yourself off the roof after him, and maybe you could convince him to come on out and bring me that snake he stole.” He sneered. “Of course, it’d mean making this whole little sacrifice play all for nothing. And this guy” he tapped the side of my father’s head, “might even willingly help me kill the brat if you did! Oh, now thatdespair would be delicious to see.”

I swallowed the pain as my fists clenched, scraped raw though they were. “…Shut up. You… you’re just trying to convince me because you know your plan’s finished. You can’t gather the snakes now. There’s no… no more reason to kill Takane and Haruka, or the others.”

*snrk.* The monster covered his mouth with a hand.

“What’s supposed to be so funny?”

“Ha! Oh, I’m sorry. It’s just… you think this kid managed to save your friends? Please.” He rolled his eyes. “He was too late. They’re already dead.” He shrugged and continued in a sing-song voice. “And anyways, the boy was a goner already. You should be thankingme; this way, at least he has a chanceof living for another year or two.”

“W…what…?” I slumped, the fight draining from my veins. No. It couldn’t be. Takane and Haruka… they were gone, too?

My “father” walked up to me and rested a hand on my shoulder. To anyone watching, it might have just looked like a father comforting his daughter; but I could feel his fingers dig into my flesh in a vice grip. “Still, working this all back out from the top is going to be a pain. And that’s not even counting all of the cleanup I have to do! It’s one thing for those other two kids; I’d made preparations for them. But spinning the sudden disappearance of this brat, too? No, that’s far too much work.” He crouched down until he was level with me, a too-wide smile on his face. A shiver ran down my spine. “So, Ayano.I’m going to have you do me a little favor, alright? And before you consider trying to do something brave, consider just who it is that has your family’s life in his hands, hmm? Don’t say anything; just nod.” I nodded, stricken. Everything I’d planned had come to nothing in a few short minutes. “You’re going to find Shuuya for me, and you’re going to have him go make himself look like this guy -“ he waved vaguely at the empty edge of the roof - “’s body for me. A suicide should be easy enough to explain away. Especially when the victim was as gloomy-looking as this asshole here. Honestly, people’re gonna think it was a miracle he lasted as long as he did.” My fists clenched again at relentless slander, but there was nothing I could do. I was totally and utterly defeated. “You got it, Ayano? Do this, and I’ll let the people you care about live a little longer.” He chuckled. “…Well, what’s left of them, at least. Hahahaha!”

How could I have ever thought I could be a hero? All I’d managed to do was arrive too late to save either of the snake’s intended victims, and drag a bystander to his death in the process.

In the end, tears streaming down my face, all I could do was nod.

——

“Neechan!” Shuuya rushed up to me the minute I exited the school. He grabbed my hands - I didn’t resist - and gasped at the scrapes all over them. “What happened to you? Where’s Shintaro-kun?”

“Shintaro— He’s—“ My voice caught.

“Nee…chan…?” I could see the exact moment Shuuya caught on. His eyes widened and his face fell, all in one motion. “Dammit! And just when the guy starts to convince me he’s not all bad, he has to go and do something like this…” His hands tightened involuntarily around mine, but I couldn’t even find the energy to wince.

I spoke in a flat voice, forcing myself to put one word in front of the next. “Shuuya. There’s something very important I need you to do.”

“Huh? What is it?”

“You need to use your power to turn into Shintaro. Let somebody discover ‘his’ body, so there’ll be a record. If you don’t, then… then he’ll…” My voice caught again, but I forced myself to continue before Shuuya could ask any questions. “And then there’s one more thing you need to do. I need you to take Tsubomi and Kousuke, and go away. Go somewhere far away from here, and don’t— don’t tell me anything about where you’re going. You can’t contact me at all, okay? I can’t have any way to find out more about you.”

“W—what?”

“It’s the only way that you’re going to be safe. I… we can’t stop the Clearing Eyes. He can have you all killed in a moment.”

Shuuya must have been able to see the seriousness in my eyes, because he didn’t try to debate the point. “Okay, but… Why can’t you come with us? We can all run, that’ll be safer!”

I just shook my head. “…No. He… he’ll find me, somehow. He knew how to respond to everything that I tried. Anything I do… no matter what, I’m sure he’ll…” I hugged myself and started slowly walking towards the path home. It was clear to me now. I was nothing more than a puppet dancing on the Clearing Eyes’ strings.

“W-wait, Neechan! Come back!”

“Goodbye, Shuuya. Please don’t forget to do what I told you. Consider it… My final request as your sister.”

“NEECHAN!”

——

“…Hey, Shintaro. Why’d you do it?”

I lie on my back, staring at the empty ceiling as I talk to the air.

“I mean… You could have stayed out of it. It wasn’t your fight.”

The cranes crowding every surface above me seem to swirl and distort, like a heat haze.

My head keeps playing his final moments on repeat. Even as the happy days grow dimmer and dimmer, I can’t seem to forget his last words no matter how hard I try.

‘The very last person I wanted to see.’

“If… if you hated me so much, why didn’t you just let me be the one to jump? Why take my place?”

I wonder… if I’d been the one to jump that day, would he have been able to do what I couldn’t? I indulge in a brief fantasy of Shintaro, red jacket flapping behind him, standing tall with my siblings as they face down the Clearing Eyes together.

…Somehow, I just can’t see it. Sorry, Shintaro.

‘The life of a rotten boy like me is worthless’

“…Did you hate yourselfthat much? Were you so sick of life that you grabbed the first excuse you could find?”

…Maybe. But… somehow, as much as he tried to shut the world out, I can’t help but see Shintaro as someone who was brimming with life underneath it all. At the very least, whenever he talked about his sister, he didn’t seem like he’d want to leave her.

The thought of Momo-chan makes me wince. Another memory, this time of her crying and screaming at me when I’d tried to comfort her.

When I’d broken down and sobbed that it was all my fault.

I can’t blame her for hating me. To be honest, I wonder if it wasn’t what I was secretly hoping for.

Just another case where Ayano’s self-satisfaction came before actually doing her job.

My alarm clock rings. I’d set it instead of my phone, to make sure Ene couldn’t try and be a hero. (I can’t help but hope that she’s given up on me, and found her way to somebody who’ll be a better friend.) It means that the children…

…my victims…

…should be arriving soon.

I push myself to my feet. In the end, even blaming myself is just pointless self-satisfaction. I’ve made the choice to play this role; I made the decision that these two children were worth less than the family I know and care about.

It doesn’t take too long to get myself presentable. I choose an outfit that looks like its owner hasn’t been in hiding for the last two years, and glance at my scarf, hanging wrinkled and dusty on a hook.

My hands shake.

And I turn away without touching it. I don’t deserve to wear that color.

Not when red is the color of blood.

“Sorry, Shintaro. Guess you made the wrong trade, in the end. Even a genius like you makes mistakes, huh?”

With that snide remark, I turn my back on his sacrifice and walk out into the house.

…Still, a thought flits across my mind.

—Ah, I would have liked to see that smile, just one more time.

The doorbell rings. It’s time.

I hide my feelings behind a smile, painting it from ear to ear.

And I open the front door.

[handwrittenhello]

where the road then takes me

Prompt: Law of Surprise Relationships: Geralt/Jaskier/Renfri, Geralt/Renfri, Geralt/Jaskier, Jaskier & Renfri Rating: T Warnings: None Summary: When Jaskier runs into a pack of wild dogs while searching for his lost hen, he's lucky that Geralt is nearby to save him. But he has nothing to repay the witcher with except the Law of Surprise, and who do they find upon returning to the farm, but Jaskier's sister, Renfri, back early from marauding?

For @witcher-rarepair-summer-bingo!

(ao3 link in reblog)

--

Jaskier, eighteen, had grand dreams.

They were little more than dreams, unfortunately, because seeing as how he and Renfri had grown up fending for themselves, stuck in a tiny village on the border of Creyden, he didn’t have much opportunity to go to school or learn to play the lute or anything, really, besides tending to the farm while Renfri got… freelance work elsewhere. That was all he cared to know about it—she would leave, and return home every couple of weeks with a decent bag of coin and blood-spattered clothes, which Jaskier would bitch about cleaning. She made enough for them to live, though not comfortably—Renfri had kept him fairly sheltered, but he knew that they were one of the poorer households in town.

Which was why Jaskier only dreamed of traveling the Continent, singing songs and weaving grand tales for the commonfolk. Instead, he was stuck here chasing down their old hen again, after the coop had blown down in the storm for the fourth time. Henrietta was a sneaky fucker, already gone by the time he woke up in the morning. He cursed but pulled on his boots and stumbled out into the cold morning air to look for her.

He cursed all the way to the edge of the forest, where she’d apparently disappeared into, judging by the tracks and the few scattered feathers he found. “Damned hen. Ought to just eat you and be done with it,” he muttered, pulling his cloak tighter around him before heading into the forest.

He followed her trail as the sun slowly rose, stopping when he heard barking in the distance. Fuck, he hoped that was the hunters’ dogs—he hadn’t thought to bring a knife to defend himself with. Whatever it was, he trudged onwards, because they couldn’t afford to lose a hen. Renfri would kill him if—when—she found out.

And then he heard it—familiar squawking, accompanied by those same barks, louder. He crept closer and saw exactly what he’d feared—a pack of wild dogs circled Henrietta, one of them darting in every so often to snap at her slashing claws. She was fending them off pretty handily, actually—Jaskier knew how vicious she could be firsthand.

But the dogs would no doubt attack in force soon, and then she’d have no chance. Without thinking, Jaskier picked up a rock and threw it at the nearest one, hitting it square in the nose. It recoiled and turned its attention away from Henrietta, which was exactly what he wanted.

Unfortunately, it turned its attention towards him, which was exactly what he didn’t want. “Oh, fuck,” he spat, and turned tail as the pack gave chase.

He dashed over tree roots and fallen logs, blind stupid terror coursing through his veins. He had no plan beyond don’t get caught—and he could only run for so long before tiring. He threw a glance backward and saw that they were gaining on him—and fast.

Not looking where was going, he was taken completely by surprise when he slammed into something hard, bouncing off it and landing with an oof on the mossy ground.

Dazed and still half-blind with fear, he didn’t even notice that he’d slammed into a person until they moved, stepping over him and taking on the dogs with an easy confidence, sword swinging with preternatural force.

Two swords, armor, incredible speed and fighting skills? As the man finished dispatching the last of the pack and turned around to reveal mutated cat eyes set in a heavily scarred face, Jaskier realized who the man was. He sucked in a sharp breath.

The witcher sheathed his sword, holding out a hand as if to calm Jaskier. “It’s alright,” he rumbled, voice full of gravel. “I’m not here to hurt you.”

Jaskier picked his jaw up from where it had dropped. “I know that,” he answered, getting to his feet and half-heartedly brushing the dirt off himself. “You’re a witcher.”

“I am. Usually fight more dangerous things than wild dogs, though. Also don’t usually see unaccompanied kids running around being chased by them.”

“I had to get their attention somehow. Henrietta was—wait, Henrietta!” Jaskier, remembered, abruptly spinning on his heel and dashing back to where the pack had cornered her.

“Wait!” the witcher called from behind him, but Jaskier paid him no heed.

He was gratified to see that while he’d been running for his life, Henrietta had seen fit to begin making herself a nest right in the same spot. “Oh, aren’t we cozy?” he grumbled, creeping closer in an attempt to grab her. He was almost upon her when the witcher ruined it, crashing through the underbrush behind him and sending her clucking away just as Jaskier pounced.

Jaskier sighed and turned to face the witcher, who at least had the good grace to look a little guilty. The guilt soon disappeared, though, when Jaskier rounded on him and began to lecture. “Now look what you’ve done. It’ll take me ages to catch her,” he complained, watching as the witcher’s eyes grew incredulous.

“You risked your life for that scrawny thing?” the witcher asked, amused disbelief coloring his tone.

“That scrawny thing is probably the most valuable thing we own, so yes,” Jaskier snapped. He couldn’t stand it when out-of-towners looked at him like that, like he was a stupid farm boy who knew little more than dirt and chickens. Which, to be fair, he didn’t, but it wasn’t as if he wanted it that way.

The witcher’s face cleared to something more akin to understanding—thank the gods it wasn’t pity. “Then I suppose I owe it to you to help catch her,” he said, and in the blink of an eye he’d snatched Henrietta up. Jaskier accepted her into his arms somewhat stunned.

“Thank you,” he eventually managed to stammer. The witcher said nothing in return, and they stood there for a long, awkward moment, before Jaskier realized he was probably waiting for something. “Oh! I don’t—I don’t have anything to pay you with…” he trailed off, recalling all the old adages, that witchers never worked for free. Fuck. Renfri wouldn’t be home for days if not weeks still, and the only coin he had he needed to save for the market day after tomorrow.

The witcher began to speak—what it was he was going to say, Jaskier didn’t know, but he interrupted as an idea struck him. “But I can offer you the Law of Surprise!” he suggested, recalling the ballads of children promised to witchmen. “We’ve a bitch due for pups soon—perhaps we’ll return home and you’ll find yourself with a companion to warm the long nights on the road!”

“Hmm,” the witcher replied, but it wasn’t a no, so he figured that it probably meant he wasn’t about to be forced into the witcher’s debt. Humming, he led the way back to the farmstead, the witcher a silent, hulking protector at his back.

Once they arrived, Jaskier was quick to secure Henrietta in the barn, where normally there would be pigs, but now, after sickness had taken their only sow, there was only dust and hay and the occasional mouse. He left Henrietta to her mouse hunting and led the witcher to the cottage, throwing open the door, excited to see what surprise he might find.

“Jaskier, why the fuck have you brought a witcher home?” asked Renfri, perched on the table and cleaning underneath her fingernails with one of her many knives.

Jaskier paled. “Renfri! You’re—you’re not meant to be home yet,” he choked out.

“What, you’re not happy to see me?” she drawled, eyebrows knitting together. Jaskier, helpless, threw a glance back at the witcher, who was wearing a thunderous expression. Shit.

“I—not in this case, no,” Jaskier said tersely. “Fuck.”

“Some welcome,” she said faux-calmly, hopping down off the table. Jaskier recognized the tenseness in her form that spoke of a predator preparing to pounce. Sure enough, she lunged a moment later, her knife held a half-inch away from the witcher’s throat. Jaskier yelped. “Did he hurt you, Julek?” she asked, not taking her eyes off the witcher’s face.

“No, nothing of the sort, now put that down,” Jaskier hissed, tugging ineffectually at her arm. “He saved me, in fact, and…”

“And?” Renfri asked lowly.

“…and I may have promised him the Law of Surprise in return,” Jaskier finished all in a rush, wincing. “I swear, Ren, if I’d known…”

“That’s the thing about surprises,” the witcher interjected. “But you needn’t worry. I have no plans to claim your—sister?” Jaskier nodded. “As I said before, I need no payment.”

Renfri lowered her knife, and Jaskier breathed a bit easier for it. Renfri was a formidable fighter, but Jaskier doubted even her strength against a witcher. If a fight had broken out, he’d have had to—well, not help, because he was rather useless in a fight, but it was the principle of the matter.

“I suppose I could do worse for myself,” Renfri mused, looking Geralt over critically.

“Wait you’re—Renfri, he said he wouldn’t claim you, you don’t have to.”

“And what if I want to?” Renfri answered. “He seems a decent sort. And not too hard on the eyes, either.”

The witcher, looking uncomfortable, stood there and said nothing.

Jaskier threw his hands up. “You’re insane. And you!” he said, turning to the witcher. “Are you agreeing to this?”

“The life of a witcher isn’t well suited to… companionship,” the witcher replied, face twisted. “Walking the Path is difficult.”

“And if I promise that I can handle myself?” Renfri asked, twirling her knife in one of the many tricks she was proud of. “I’m no stranger to the road. It’s Jaskier you’d have to watch out for.”

“I resent that,” Jaskier said mildly, mostly out of principle. But the prospect was too exciting to dwell on it for long—was Renfri truly proposing that they set out with a witcher? “Ren, do you mean it?”

“If your witcher is fine with it, then I don’t see why not,” she replied. “What do you say, witcher?”

“Geralt,” the witcher corrected her. “If we’re to travel together, you ought to at least know my name.”

“Geralt,” Jaskier repeated. It rolled off the tongue wonderfully. “Oh, this is so exciting! I’m going to write so many songs, just wait,” he gushed. “The Witcher and the Shrike—I can hear it now.”

Renfri pulled him out of his thoughts with a cuff to the shoulder. “Ow,” he said mildly. “Wait—you are planning on sharing, right?” he interjected. “Because, I mean, look at him.”

“Am I a toy to be shared among siblings?” Geralt asked, raising an eyebrow.

“Is that a no, you don’t want to sleep with both of us? Because I’ll respect that, I will, but also, not to objectify you or whatever, but dear gods please, I think my poor heart might break if I didn’t get to fuck you at least once.”

“Jaskier! Leave my Husband Surprise alone,” Renfri said, shoving him away. “Go get packed. Essentials only!”

“Alright, alright, I’m going,” Jaskier placated, raising his hands in surrender. “Don’t get up to anything while I’m gone, you lovebirds.”

As he left, Geralt turned to Renfri. “Is he always like this?”

“Yeah, he’s chronically stupid. Gets it from our father.”

“Remind me again why I agreed to this?”

“Don’t know, but it’s too late now. You’re stuck with us, witcher,” Renfri replied, looping an arm around Geralt’s.

Geralt made a show of sighing, but in truth, he wasn’t annoyed as all that. At least it would make life more interesting.

[chockfullofsecrets]

Critical Role: Difficult

(Read on AO3)

Rating: Gen

Summary: He considers for a moment and then pulls it over the back of Caleb’s head, leaving his arms dangling loosely in the taut pull of the fabric. “Be good or I’ll tickle you again.”

It’s something he’d say to one of his siblings, and it gets an equally petulant response - Caleb growls, elbows flailing as he tries to break free of his shirt prison. “Caduceus.”

Difficult. Caduceus eyes the bare and probably-ticklish - and currently burnt up - expanse of Caleb’s exposed torso and makes a decision.

Wordcount: 2.4k

A/N: Fill for this anon prompt!

---

Caduceus likes to think he’s pretty immune to nonsense, as things go - growing up with three siblings will have that effect - but that doesn’t mean he’s not frustrated when certain people decide that they’re going to walk away from a we-barely-survived-a-dimension-with-a-dragon-in-it healing circle.

Still, he knows how these things go. He sees everyone off to bed and reminds himself to come up with some tea for Beau later. He pulls thick green stalks of succulents from his pack, grateful that he’d thought to wrap most of his herbs up in oilcloth before his time with the group took a decidedly nautical turn, and crushes them methodically into paste before stirring in some warm oil and beeswax. He hums a quick prayer to the Wildmother, asking for the same patience it took not to sneak something annoying into Clarabelle’s food when she started putting worms in his bed at night.

Then, he goes to find Caleb.

Their guilt-ridden wizard looks even worse than he did before, if that’s even possible. He smells of soot, shirt scorched and blackened around the collar, and his cheeks are red and peeling with what might be mistaken for a particularly terrible sunburn if Caduceus hadn’t been in the room with him and a fire elemental and a whole entire dragon. But that’s not the worst of it - he’s hunched up at the head of his bed in the already confined space of the room he and Nott have taken over, knees pulled to his chest and a faraway look in his eyes that says he’s probably sat himself down and not moved since.

Caduceus tries not to sigh. “Hey, I brought you some stuff.”

Caleb’s head barely twitches in his direction. “I am not in the mood for tea just now, Herr Clay.”

“Well, good, cause it’s not tea.” He ducks through the doorway properly and brandishes the bowl of salve for inspection, cradling it gently in his hands. “For the burns - you’re going to have to take care of those sooner or later, or they’ll get pretty gross.”

“I will sleep it off, then.”

Caduceus very tactfully refrains from mentioning that Caleb has obviously not been sleeping. “Where’s Nott gotten off to?”

Caleb tends to be a little less guarded when Nott is around, he’s noticed, and the question gets him to shift just enough to reveal Nott hidden between him and the wall, high-pitched goblin snores muffled in the sleeve of Caleb’s coat that she’s wrapped herself up in. “We will let her sleep, ja?”

He turns away, clearly considering the conversation over. Caduceus takes just a little bit of smug pride in the way his head snaps back around when he climbs onto the bed to join them.

“She can sleep. You, though-” He settles cross legged at the foot of the bed, catches Caleb’s eye and pats the mattress in front of him. “C’mere.”

Caleb stares. Caduceus thinks he might be trying to intimidate him. “Herr Clay, we do not know each other so well, but I think I have been quite clear-”

Caduceus snags one of his ankles and starts towing him in, patiently watching him wince and sputter as he scrambles to keep himself upright without the support of the wall. “You - well, the group, but also you - asked me to come with you to heal you all.”

Caleb, just shy of his lap, makes an immensely frustrated noise - he looks like he wants to gesture angrily, but both of his arms are occupied keeping him from falling over. “Yes, but you cannot just-”

“You need healing,” Caduceus says firmly. He takes Caleb’s shoulders and nudges them around, leaving him to straighten the rest of himself out. “Hold still now, I’m doing the back of your neck first.”

All at once, Caleb seems to decide that it’s not worth the effort to crawl back to the other side of the bed - his shoulders bend under the gentle pressure Caduceus puts on them, and he looks away. “Jester has never been this dedicated to healing,” he complains, but he turns himself to sit on the edge of the bed and pulls his feet to the floor.

Caduceus hums approvingly and lets go of him- it’s important to reward good behavior. “Isn’t it nice that the Wildmother decided to bring you to my door, then?”

Caleb snorts.

It’s slow going. First Caleb won’t let him braid his hair up out of the way - he jerks his head away, and Caduceus can see the way his back stiffens with pain as he produces a twist of silver thread and yanks the reddish locks into a painful looking tail at the back of his skull. Then he bows his head and refuses to say a single word when Caduceus asks him if he’s pressing too hard. Honestly, he’s met more cooperative corpses.

“Does it help?” he asks, smoothing more of the salve over the taut muscles on either side of Caleb’s neck. Goosebumps spring up under his fingers, and he rubs a little more firmly to smooth them back down. “The sulking, I mean. Doesn’t do much, in my experience, but you seem pretty attached.”

Caleb, unsurprisingly, stays quiet. Caduceus has to laugh at that, doesn’t particularly bother keeping it quiet. “Yeah, that’s what I thought.”

It’s not a big area to cover, and he’s finished within a minute, but as he keeps rubbing his thumb over the bony jut of spine just under the fragile curve of skull Caleb relaxes ever so slightly into his touch - very much despite his own intentions, he’s sure - and he’s interested in chasing that rather promising hint of compliance. Another minute, and Caleb’s elbows unlock from their pillar-straight position by his sides. He’s curious what might come next, but the exhaustion of the day is starting to pull at him and he knows he needs to check on Beau too before he goes to sleep. Caleb’s a multi-step project, if anything.

He does take the opportunity to tease Caleb’s ponytail just a little looser, though. He doesn’t like seeing people mistreat their hair.

He pulls his hands away - Caleb sways in his direction, a quiet protest escaping, and he does make sure to hide his amusement at that - and reaches for the collar of his shirt. Tugging it away from the skin, he peeks down Caleb’s back and instantly hisses in sympathy. It’s not burnt, protected by two layers of cloth, but the skin still looks red and irritated from the heat. No wonder Caleb isn’t keen on going to sleep. “Okay, shirt off, let’s do your back too.”

And, just like that, Caleb locks right back up. “What? I thought we were done.”

He does permit himself an aggrieved sigh, at that - he’s sure the Wildmother will understand. “Yeah, no - I can see the burns on your back, you know.”

Caleb’s shoulders take on an especially mutinous hunch, fingers tightening on the hem of his shirt. “I will be fine.” He huffs in a dark, angry way that makes Caduceus’ ears want to flatten against the side of his head. “I’ve seen worse.”

Somehow, he doesn’t think his look-over-here trick with the mushroom will work as well here as it did on Beau. Instead, he flutters his fingers along the side of Caleb’s neck, on an unburnt patch of skin just below his ear. Tends to be distracting, even on people who aren’t ticklish there - and he’s fairly sure Caleb isn’t, after watching Jester try to blow a raspberry on the back of his neck and immediately gag on the taste of days-old sweat and earn barely a startle for her troubles.

Which makes it all the more delightful when the sensation takes right away - “Oh”, Caleb gasps, and instantly crushes his shoulders up against his ears as goosebumps bloom over the sensitive skin. “Ah- hffff-”

Caduceus keeps a watchful eye on his hands, yanking his shirt up as soon as his death grip on it loosens and - oh, right the holsters. He’d forgotten about those.

Caleb recovers quickly, pulling away from the tickling and jerkily tugging his shirt down from where it’s caught up by his ribs. “Okay, this is - I am low on spells right now, but if this is what it takes then I will fucking do it-”

Caduceus tunes him out, searching the visible stretch of skin on Caleb’s back for somewhere that’s not going to hurt him to be touched, and - ah, there it is.

Caleb’s tirade cuts off with a startled squeak as Caduceus wraps a palm around his side and wiggles a fingertip into the soft spot just underneath his ribs. Perfect.

He smiles triumphantly and leans over to fish for the buckle on the front of Caleb’s holsters - he’s tall enough to catch a look at Caleb’s face as he does, and finds the scrunched-up nose and twisted lips of someone trying desperately not to laugh. “Didn’t know you were ticklish,” he tells him, gently tugging at straps until he finds the ones he wants. “You could’ve said, if that’s what you were worried about.”

It’s definitely not, he knows, but he’s hoping to bait Caleb into trying to say something in the hopes of getting him to laugh - it’ll be easy enough to deal with him like this, squirming and distracted from the tickling, but he might at least have some fun in the meantime.

Caleb doesn’t seem to share the sentiment. “Sta - hhh - stohoppit” he grits out, swatting at Caduceus’ hand, and he does, but only because he’s got the buckle sorted out and can finally get Caleb’s shirt all the way up.

He considers for a moment and then pulls it over the back of Caleb’s head, leaving his arms dangling loosely in the taut pull of the fabric. “Be good or I’ll tickle you again.”

It’s something he’d say to one of his siblings, and it gets an equally petulant response - Caleb growls, elbows flailing as he tries to break free of his shirt prison. “Caduceus.”

Difficult. Caduceus eyes the bare and probably-ticklish - and currently burnt up - expanse of Caleb’s exposed torso and makes a decision.

Grabbing Caleb around the ribs to hold him still, he murmurs a prayer to the Wildmother and smooths his hands over the damaged skin. Lichen sprouts beneath his fingertips and webs across the irritated skin, a beautiful thing made all the sweeter for happening amidst the salty waves of an earthless ocean. He watches for a moment, waiting for the growth to crumble away as the spell finishes and leaves pink and tender flesh in its wake.

There’s a lot of dust. Caleb’s gone still under his hands, finally, so he lets go and starts to brush everything away - curls his fingers a little more than he needs to, while he’s at it, scritching lightly here and there to see if he can find anything particularly sensitive.

“You,” Caleb says slowly, the bright edge of a laugh squirming its way up under his words, “had spells?”

“Mhmm.” The grooves of Caleb’s ribs seem particularly useful, even if lingering there for more than a moment makes him start squirming again.

“Then - what - ahhf-”

“Well, you didn’t want them earlier. I thought you could use a little fussing over.”

“But - hfff-” Definitely a laugh caught in Caleb’s throat now, words jumbling uselessly on his tongue as he tries to fight it back. Caduceus chuckles and presses his fingers carefully into the bony ridges of his ribcage, rubbing nice and slow to give him a fighting chance of getting the words out. “But I - heh - I am healed now, so-”

He considers for a moment. “Now I’m going to make you laugh,” he decides, digging in a little harder, “and we’ll go from there.”

Caleb jumps hard enough that his shirt tumbles back down around his shoulders, revealing his flushed face as he turns around to gawk. “N - hnnn - no, no, but Nott is sleeping, please-”

“Yeah, she’s a deep sleeper,” Caduceus says. “Does she know how ticklish you are?”

“I’m not,” Caleb gets out, just as Caduceus goes to tickle under his arms and finds the top edge of his ribcage instead.

The resulting shriek of laughter sounds very ticklish to him.

“Not when you’re surprised, maybe,” Cad tells him. Caleb’s starting to wobble dangerously close to toppling off the bed, too tired or distracted to stay upright, so he wraps an arm around his waist and tugs him back to sit properly in his lap. “But if I spend enough time poking around-”

He kneads at the top of Caleb’s ribcage again and finds himself with a lapful of cackling wizard - his hands are under Caleb’s shirt now, but even with his arms free the poor thing isn’t making much of an attempt to get away. “Ahaah, ahahaaa - aaa! - hah, Caduceus - please - ”

Caduceus hums and lets his hands still for a moment. “Yeah, what’s up?”

Caleb’s face is nearly as red as his hair. “It tickles,” he pleads, squeaking helplessly as Caduceus twitches a finger a little too close to his ribs.

Caduceus grins down at him. “Sure it does,” he teases, drifting down to squeeze Caleb’s sides until he starts laughing all over again. “Maybe I should just heal you like this, from now on, so you can’t wander away. Wouldn’t that be nice?”

“No! Noho, please, I’m sohorry - ahahaaa!”

Whoops, his fingers are back on Caleb’s ribs again. “Yeah? You’ll stick around next time?”

“Yes,” Caleb shrieks in an very un-Caleb like way, kicking frantically as the merciless tickling heads back up under his arms. “I will, I will, plehehease!”

His voice cracks on the last word, cresting into silent laughter, and Caduceus begrudgingly deems him repentant enough that working on any other bad habits will have to wait. He pulls his hands out from under Caleb’s shirt with one last pinch to his tummy, looking over the giggling mess in his lap with the serene satisfaction of punishment well administered.

He’s been on the other end of things too, often enough - especially from Calliope - but no one here needs to know that.

Caleb sits up, the giddy remnants of a smile lingering in the corners of his mouth as he scrubs his hands furiously over his ribs. “Herr Clay,” he says, breathless, “I think that I will stay very far away from danger for the time being. Just in case.”

Caduceus just laughs at him.

[agent-cupcake]

Hey AC! I love your blog and was wondering if I could get your opinion on something. I've seen some people complaining that Ingrid and Hilda are treated by the fandom, with Ingrid stans saying that Hilda is also racist towards Almyrans (which, granted, she is) but doesn't get nearly as much hate about it as Ingrid does. But personally I feel like their attitudes and the way they react towards Dedue/Cyril are wildly different and Hilda generally seems less hateful/irrational about it. Thoughts?

This is... kind of a touchy topic... I like it though! It’s worth discussing, especially since I feel like it’s broke criticism to simply deflect blame onto a character in order to prop up another.  Full and obvious disclosure: I very much dislike Ingrid and very much love Hilda. That said, I don’t think it’s fair to compare them for the sake of which is worse. I fall into the trap of character criticism through comparison far too often and it's not really valid unless you can fully explore each character in their own right beforehand. Which is why, while writing this, I came to the conclusion that the ways these two characters are interpreted and the reason people view their racist tendencies differently has far more to do with the characters themselves than their actual beliefs.

From first impressions to subsequent playthroughs, this is pretty much how I feel about Ingrid: she brings up her hatred of the Duscur people and Dedue unprompted and uncontested several times at the very beginning of the game, putting it front and center to her character. This is important, it sets a foundational component for how I could come to view her. According to her introduction, she is honorable and respectful, a model lady knight trope. But, as mentioned, she's really racist. Literally standing around thinking about how awful it is that Dimitri would trust a man of Duscur because they are all bad people. Yikes. And nobody calls her on it. Again, this is very important for perception. People judge Sylvain for his bad behavior in a much more harsh way than they do Ingrid for her vitriolic loathing for another classmate who we have seen as nothing but respectful. It's weird. And then, despite the fact that her close friend Sylvain was able to reason out that it’s not possible for the Duscur people to be at fault for the Tragedy, despite the fact that the prince of the country she supposedly hopes to serve with unwavering respect and loyalty has made it clear that he does not believe that Dedue or Duscar are responsible for the Tragedy, and despite the fact that Dimitri, her close friend and the one most affected by the Tragedy (seriously, she lost a guy she might have married and he lost his best friend, mother, and watched his father be killed in front of his eyes) continuously insists that neither Dedue nor Duscur are at fault, she loudly and openly believes that the ensuing massacre of Duscur was deserved and Dedue is inherently culpable simply because of his race. Her motivations for this hatred feel even more cheap considering her dogged hero worship for Glenn was born out of the fact that she was promised to him, making the fact that she’d use his death as reason enough for the destruction of countless innocent lives even more unsympathetic in my eyes. I mean, seriously, she was around 13 and he was older than her, how close could they have truly been? Dimitri says they were in love, but she was a child. Abandoning my modern sensibilities about age of consent or whatever, kids at that age don't have the emotional or mental capability. Maybe this is just nitpicking, but I have a very hard time caring about that relationship. But, if her actual justification is because of what happened to Faerghus as a result of the Tragedy and feels duty-bound as a knight to find justice through the systematic destruction of the Duscur people, then it just circles back to confusion considering the future leader of said country doesn't hold Duscur or Dedue responsible. The importance of perception comes in because despite these paper thin excuses and her seemingly willfully ignorant hatred, she is never challenged on her racist beliefs. The reason she seems to change her mind about Dedue and consider that maybe excusing a genocide is wrong stems from guilt that Dedue continuously comes to her aid in battle at the potential cost of his own life. I can understand, to a certain extent, why she might feel the way she does. But, again, I have such a hard time with any justification when nobody that she's close to is even nearly as hateful as her, there is plenty of evidence (evidence that the people close to her have found!) to provide a very reasonable counterclaim to Duscur's guilt, and that none of that even matters when it would require her to openly contradict the prince of her country to make the claim that Dedue was in any way complicit in the Tragedy. Which would be fine if she wasn't established as the model Lady Knight archetype, which also brings us into Ingrid's moral high horse. Admittedly, I hate the Lady Knight trope. I have a significant bias against these types of characters. However, I really do think that this moral crusade is where she lost me completely. Without even a shred of empathy or self awareness, she lectures Sylvain about his shitty behavior even though their circumstances are at least somewhat similar and he has his reasons (bad ones, maybe, but ones worth understanding if she actually cares about him), she lectures Felix about not being interested in knightly endeavors (an aspect of his character that is born of the trauma she has appropriated), and she lectures Claude about behavior that is befitting of a man in his position. Not because she cares about the girls Sylvain is hurting, not because she thinks there are any grave stakes from Felix choosing to do his own thing, and not because she knows that Claude's behavior affects his ability to lead, but because she doesn't like these behaviors and thinks they should be fixed. Yet, at the same time, she believes Dedue deserved to lose his family, country, and culture based on his birth and nobody ever does anything to morally correct her, it is something she eventually is forced to acknowledge on her own. It's frustrating, infuriating even, that the game lets her get away with being so grossly hypocritical. And, all the while, she is being painted as sympathetic. Again, I have a hard time feeling sympathy for her about Glenn, and I certainty don't feel sympathetic towards her issues about marriage because there's never any actual tension there. Of course she won't be forced to marry, she's a Lady Knight. Beyond being unsympathetic, I also find her massively unlikable. Awful design, poor voice direction, food-loving-as-a-personality-trait, the fact that she's written as one of those stock "feminist" characters who hate makeup and girly things until it benefits them, and constantly butting in on other characters to give her opinion without taking any criticism herself are all aspects that I just personally dislike. Ultimately, Ingrid being racist is only a symptom of the many reasons her character is one of my least favorites. Most of these points can be countered by someone who doesn't take issue with the things that annoy me and to point out that Ingrid DOES get over her racist beliefs. It's not fair to say that she doesn't change but, for me, the damage was already done by the time she became tolerable so I still have a hard time appreciating her. My assumption would be that there are a lot of other people who feel similarly to me regarding their dislike of Ingrid so they focus on one easy character flaw, her being racist at the beginning of the game, as a reason to validate their dislike of her overall.

On the other hand, Hilda's racism isn't a main trait of her character. It's related to her overarching character flaws, but she doesn't bring it up unprompted and can actually be pretty much missed without the Cyrill supports. Like you said, Hilda does seem less hateful and irrational, it doesn't take willful malice and an active rejection of reason for Hilda to dislike the Almyrans, they pose a genuine and provable threat to her family and territory, seemingly senselessly testing the borders and throwing away lives for the sake of conquest. To be clear, her "you're not like those OTHER Almyrans" schtick is legitimately nasty. Her behavior is gross and condescending and it really underscores the fact that Hilda is ignorant, lazy, inconsiderate, and incredibly comfortable in her privilege. She accepts what she's been told at face value because she's too lazy to look into it further. Cyrill does tell her she's stupid to think that way, though. Which is satisfying because Hilda in those supports is insufferable, it really highlights the worst aspects of her character, dismissive, manipulative, and very selfish. However, for me, she's also very likeable. I'm not interested in going over my opinions on her like I did with Ingrid as I don’t feel it’s as important to my point but a few reasons I really like her is because I think Hilda has a fantastic design, cute supports, amazing voice work, and is secretly sweet in a way that absolutely tickles my fancy. I am sure many people do not agree with me, which is fine. Additionally, just as Ingrid grows out of her racist beliefs, so does Hilda. They both end the game as more tolerant and caring people. Still, for the same reason a person could argue that Ingrid is actually great and I'm being unfair, they could argue that Hilda is terrible and I'm too biased. That's fair and true..... but I think the fact that Hilda is more generally appealing in conjunction with the less obvious nature of her racist attitude makes people less likely to dismiss her as a racist in the same way they do Ingrid. Unless they dislike Hilda, in which case, it’s all fair game.

Anyyyways, a main takeaway from this is that I highly doubt people are truly arguing on the individual basis of who's more racist, but that they're engaging in the age old waifu war. As with many characters in this game, it's easier to argue moral superiority when you can't quite articulate what you like or don't like about a character. Or, even worse, when you're arguing opinion. Even now, as is clear by reading this, I am arguing my opinion of why I don't like Ingrid. Not because she's racist, but because of the character traits and writing choices that make her unlikable to me. I like Hilda because, flaws and all, I find her to be compelling and enjoyable. From the people that I know, at least, that is basically how the Ingrid stans v Hilda racism argument is structured, even if they dress it up in different language.

By the by Hilda never talks about how the Almyrans deserve to be wiped out. I think that probably sours a lot of people's opinions of Ingrid no matter what happened afterward but that’s fine we can just pretend that didn’t happen

[dakotafinely]

Thank you for writing my request!! I enjoyed the twist you put on it!

But like....now I’m curious about when April’s parents finally DO meet splinter and the bois- would she recognize Raph? I assume she’d recognize splinter bc I mean cmon rat man but Raph has gotten so much bigger than when she first saw him

Would you be willing to write that too? 🥺

YOU HAVE NO IDEA HOW MUCH I WAS HOPING YOU'D ASK THAT AKSNSOSNDIFLENEHFODND!!

ALSO THANK YOU I HAD SO MUCH FUN WRITING THE REQUEST!!

Also, before we get into it. April has two mom’s and I don't take criticism on that. The one that met Raph & Splinter will be referred to as Mama/Ma while the other will be referred to as Mom/Mother.

--

Most of the time, it was just April and her mama. Her mom with a job that caused her to travel often. Sometimes unexpectedly.

“But, the guys really want to meet you!” April begged, despite knowing her mother couldn’t get out of it if she wanted to. Her mother lightly kissed her forehead, before returning to pack her suitcase.

“I know honey, and I’d love to meet them too,” She stops to focus and folding a shirt and putting in the suitcase “but I have to go, they need me down in Texas for the week. I promise if I can make it back before Sunday I’ll try to with all my might.” She turns to her daughter. Placing both hands on her face with a gentle smile on her own.

“You know I wouldn’t do this if I didn’t have to,” she says and April sighs. Knowing she was right.

“Just... try and make it back as soon as possible,” It was April’s last plea. To which her mother turned back to the suitcase to zip it up. Putting it with the other one and looking to April. Her eyes shining with honesty.

“You know I always do,” she responded. Leaving about ten minutes later.

Saturday came, and April knew her mother wasn’t coming in time. Still, the guys at least meeting one of her mom’s oughta satisfy their curiosity just a bit.

Sunday came and April’s mama was running around like a chicken with her head cut off. Trying to prepare the house as much as possible before they came. April tried to calm her down. The speed reminiscent of a freight train.

“Mama please, trust me when I say they’re not going to care if it’s not perfect,” April said with a slight whine. Still, in a flurry she went. Tidying up things the boy’s wouldn’t have even seen to begin with. Like closets and bedrooms.

“Well I’ll care,” her mama retorted. Slowly running out of steam as it become one hour before they would arrive. Hair tied up and fizzled, clothes stained with deep cleaning messes. She huffed as she looked at herself.

“I’m taking a shower,” she told April “put the chicken in the oven when the-”

“When the timer goes off, I know.”

--

“I still don’t know why we have to wear clothes,” Raph spoke up as Donnie and Leo admired themselves in a shared mirror. Lightly pushing each other to get a better view. Raph huffed and smoothed out the red cardigan he put on for the 50th time “we never wear clothes any other time!” he said.

“Yeah, but,” Mikey slid up next to him, adjusting the snappers tie “it’s to make a good impression! We’re mutants, we gotta do something to make her feel at ease.”

“Her?” Raph asked.

“Oh yeah, I forgot you weren’t in the room,” Donnie spoke up, finally leaving the mirror before the pushing got to violent between the twins. Leo falling over with a yelp at the unexpected movement of the soft-shell “April’s other mom couldn’t make it back home in time. We’re only meeting one of her parents,” Donnie explained, looking relaxed in the suit, as if he could wear it all the time.

“But still!” Leo spoke up, popping up next to his twin as though he hadn’t just fallen “It’ll be nice to meet at least one of her parents,” he said “for a hot second there I thought we’d never meet either of ‘em!” Leo crossed his arms and sat with a happy smile. Also looking comfortable in his clothes.

“I’m just glad we finally have a reason to use these cardigans!” Mikey said, gesturing to his orange one. Raph looked back to the mirror, looking down at the red cardigan. Mikey had taken time to tailor it to Raph’s measurements, it would’ve been a true shame to let it go unused.

“Alright my sons!” Splinter emerged from his room. The boys stared at him, his suit looking dapper, a sight unusual for the boys. He held a brightly wrapped gift in his hands. Clearly spending most of his time on it as the bow on top was complex and beautiful. He grinned “Let’s go!”

--

As the hours had become mere minutes. A dread filled April’s stomach. She’d yet to tell her mom’s the truth about her friends. But she knew if she didn’t do it now she’d be asking for disaster later.

“Mama,” April said, mouth dry as she didn’t really look at her. April’s mama looked from the table she was decorating. Concern following her features as she saw the way her daughter was standing.

“What’s wrong baby?” She moved, stopping her task and put a hand on April’s shoulder. Using the other to move April’s face gently to make April face her. April looked nervous, with a mixture of fear. The type of fear you feel when you believe you’re about to be rejected.

“There’s... something I gotta tell you about my friends.” April said “Before they get here, so you can be ready.” She continued, studying her mama’s facial expression. It was mainly confused.

“What is it? What-” A lightbulb went over her head “Oh! Are they gang members? Is that why you’ve been out all hours of the night because April-”

“No!” April spoke a laugh of disbelief, relaxing a bit. Mama relaxed a bit as well, that was her worst fear. The last thing she would ever wish on her daughter is to be swept in something as dangerous as a gang. Especially with some of the very...  bizarre ones in New York.

“Well, then whatever it is will be alright with me,” Mama said letting go of her daughter. Despite the concern on April’s face, as if there could be something worse in her mind then gang members. Mama smiled reassuringly “You can tell me, I promise it won’t make me think any less of your friends,” she added, wanting to let her daughter have open space to talk about anything.

April opened her mouth, when the doorbell rang.

“Oh! Well speak of the devil’s then,” Mama spoke with a small chuckle, already moving to open the door.

“Wa- wait! Maybe I should get it!” April began to protest. To which Mama simply shook her head as she placed her hand on the doorknob.

“Nonsense April,” Mama said, already opening the door, “I’d love to-” She stopped as her eyes landed on the five mutants in front of her. Recognizing one almost immediately. Eyes wide and mouth agape as she stared at him again for the first time in years.

Splinter couldn’t help but have the same expression. Feeling as though he’d been thrown into the past. Recognizing the woman, her long thick curls draped down her shoulders had light grey hair’s decorated inside them. She didn’t seem as slim as she was all those years ago. But the gentleness was still evident in creases around her eyes.

Her eyes flicked up. Four, there were four turtles. And despite the fact she hadn’t used the information for years. She still was able to identify each one of them with a glance.

A red-eared slider, a box turtle, a soft-shell, and-

“You!” Splinter and Mama said almost at the same time. Mama taking a step back as she pointed to the Snapper.

April finally snapped out of her horror as she had awaited her mama’s response. Becoming confused by the reaction.

“Wait, you know Raph?” She asked walking behind her mama. April’s mama put a hand over her mouth.

“Pop’s... you know her?” Raph asked leaning down, not-so-subtly whispering behind his hand. Having been to young to truly remember the trauma he’d gone through.

“Well, uh, can we at least come inside?” Leo finally said after a beat of silence. Earning an elbow from Donnie “What? She knows Raph! Or pop’s at least...” Leo trailed before realizing something.

“Wait, is she the one you meet when getting Raph back!?” Is what Leo would’ve said, if Mikey hadn’t said it first. April’s eyes went wide with the realization as well. And Donnie and Raph seemed a bit flabbergasted.

“I- uh, come in!” Mama finally snapped, swinging the door right open. There was a lot of explaining to do...

Eventually, everyone had settled. Sitting at the table as the last of the food cooked.

April looked to her mama, awaiting an explanation.

“It was... before you were born. I’d joined this sort of hunting group as a way to make quick cash. They’d needed a turtle and tortoise expert. And I was it.” April’s mama began. Hands on her lap as everyone leaned into the story.

“I didn’t go on many trips. Just a couple, I didn’t know what they did with the animals they caught. I always thought it was a capture and release type of thing. Since I only was really there to examine the capture and take notes before just, being on my way. But..” She took a deep breath “during one mission, they’d actually decided to let me stay from start to finish and...” Mama looked up to Raph with a small smile “that’s where I met you,” she said.

--

“Look what I caught!” A hunter said holding up a small turtle by it’s tail. The group gathered round to get a better look at the creature. But she was the only one who truly took notice of weird things about it. How it held it’s claw like a hand, whimpering in pain as it looked around. With eyes that shone of a bright mind, curious about the world. And unusual, toddler like form.

“Well O’Neil?” A hunter asked, lightly knocking her shoulder. Snapping her out of her study. They lightly gestured with their head to the turtle “what kind is it?”

“Uh,” O’Neil shook her head and took a closer look. Holding the turtle with care, making the other hunters snicker at her compassion. She ignored it as she flipped the turtle on it’s stomach, feeling the sharp edges of it’s shell. She turned it back and opened it’s mouth. Tiny hands pawing at the unwanted intrusion, but she saw the sharp curve of it’s beak. Clearly made for tougher meats. Of course, this one was easy, she probably could’ve guessed if she really wanted to “Ah, Alligator Snapper Turtle... which is unusual for this area.” She said.

It took everything in her not to take it back as a hunter ripped it from her arms like a lifeless doll. Laughing a bit as they put him close to their face, slightly sneering at it.

“Really now? Why don’t we cage this lil’ fella and sell ‘em?” They said lightly tossing him from arm to arm. The snapper letting out whines and distressed whimpers. O’Neil was in to much shock at the action to move to action as the others around her laughed.

Until the hunter let out a pained scream. Dropping the snapper with a slur of curses. Backing away as bit. The snapper had begun to get up and try and run. O’Neil noted, that it was on two feet and not all four, before someone else crushed him under their foot.

“That- that fucker bit off my finger!” The hunter screamed in horror as another went to grab the med kit from one of the tents. O’Neil’s eyes widened as she saw the little turtle spit it from his mouth, clearly in distaste.

It was after that O’Neil still had to watch them throw him in cage. But, he drew blood, heck he almost at a whole finger. They couldn’t release him back into the wild. Not with the taste of human blood now his system.

It took two more days for O’Neil to properly realize that it was simply self-defense. With no more incidents occurring, and the snapper unable to eat anything raw without immediately spitting it back out. The poor sucker was starving.

“Maybe he’ll eat the jerky,” O’Neil made the mistake of commenting it aloud as she watched poor turtle suffer in his cage. Whimpering out in hunger, sitting in the corner every time another human would walk by.

“Aww, what’s the matter little guy? Ya hungry?” The hunter he’d bit a few days ago spit out. Clearly begin sarcastic as he threw a piece of jerky out of the cages reach. Still, the naive snapper had went after it. Trying to paw at it from inside the cage.

The laughter surrounding her was sickening. It made her want to cover her ears and shout at them to stop. But she couldn’t. Instead she used her foot to nudge the jerky within reach.

Waiting a few minutes before dumping her bag inside the cage. She didn’t like the jerky that much anyways. She couldn’t help but watch with a smile as the snapper filled his stomach. A satisfied churr coming from him as he smiled back up at her.

That was it, she had to get him out of here.

Under the cover of the evening. She’d volunteered to do night patrols, in case something or someone tried to invade the camp. A shudder crawled through her spine at the idea. What could they’ve been doing to make other people come after them?

Still, once she was sure everyone was asleep. She went to the cage, crouching down in front of it. Relieved to see the Snapper crawl towards her instead of away. This would make it much easier. And despite the darkness, she could see his eyes. Shining with child-like joy and wonder.

“You’re not like the others are you little guy?” She cooed, trying to be as gentle as possible to not startle him. The snapper churred in response, curious but cautious. He understood her. She couldn’t help but smile wider.

“Yeah, I didn’t think so. I’ve seen snappers before and you don’t really look it,” She continued, before letting out an awkward chuckle. He did sort of look like a snapper, that’s why she was able to identify him in the first place “I mean,” she corrected herself “you do kinda, but not really if you get what I mean.”

A confused churr, but he leaned against the door of the cage. Silently asking to be let out.

“Yeah... sorry,” she said, opening the cage door. The snapper immediately went into her arms. Snuggling into the warmth and safety of them. The moon finally coming out from behind the clouds for her to see him properly.

Perfect, now was the time to-

As she’d turned to run off, she saw a rat. A large rat, wearing a worn down robe and looking as though he hadn’t slept in days. She couldn’t do much of anything beside stare. And the creature stared back.

The Snapper began to chrip happily, seeming to recognize the thing in front of her. She kept him balanced, still afraid of handing him off to someone. Within four days, it seemed she’d adopted the snapper.

But when the rat gently lifted his arms. Staring at the snapper with adoration and worry and hope. Hands shaking just a bit as though he could will him into his arms. O’Neil knew she was defeated.

She relented the child. With slow movements as to not scare either of them. The rat took him quickly and carefully. Hugging him like his own son, quietly sobbing with shoulder shaking violently. Oh dear, how long had he been looking for the kid?

“Go,” her voice was much hoarser then she would’ve liked, but there was no time for her to care. The rat looked to her, as if he completely forgot he was there to begin with. She couldn’t help but glance at the tents, afraid of waking up the others was lighting in her skin “if you want to get out of here with him now. You need to go,” she whispered. The rat nodded and with no words. Rushed off, leaves in the up kick at his unexpected speed.

She relaxed, until she heard a branch snap.

“O’Neil?” A hunter spoke up, clearly groggy from begin so easily awakened “Is that you making a racket?”

“Yeah, yeah,” she tried to sound as confident as possible. Not wanting to raise suspicion and make them aware of their escapee sooner then necessary “just go back to sleep, thought I heard something but I was wrong.”

She stood frozen in place. Waiting for a response. Before relaxing after a beat or so.

--

“Wait! What happened after!?” Mikey asked excitedly, immersed in the story. She couldn’t help but let out a chuckle at his enthusiasm.

“Oh, I quit. A month later we got you,” She booped her daughters noise. Making April giggle a bit and shy away. Mama sighed and leaned back against her chair. More at ease with the story out there.

“I always thought you guys ran far away from here,” she commented looking to Splinter “I’m surprised to see you’ve stayed, and gained three more turtles in the process.”

With that, the timer beeped. And everyone helped move the food for them to dig into.

--

I hope this one’s good! I feel kinda iffy about the ending but it seems like a good place to end it. I had fun playing more with this concept! I’d like to think the guys and April’s history went deeper then even they realized. (I kinda like doing that with ALL my characters, it’s so much fun to interweave them!)

This was a lot of fun! Thank you for sending me the ask!!

[fellhellion]

can you make a rec list of your favorite fe3h fics? if that's alright?

OF COURSE I WOULD LOVE TO <3 always happy to give my fave works a shoutout <33333

Though mind u this is going to be a LOT so ill pop them under a cut

from the heart in exile

TLDR: platonic hubert edelgard fic that haunts me. It’s extremely good with really well written character voices and focuses on these two characters trying to find out who they are beyond the war with their friends refusing to leave them behind

Summary: 

You can’t speak just yet to whether time—and age? experience? not that war or rulership have given you much of the latter, at least in the area of gardening—has made your thumbs any less brown, but the house in the Oghma Mountains is surrounded by so many growing things it hardly seems to matter. It sits at the edge of a forest, on the gentle lower slopes, and the people in the nearest town had all smiled to speak of it when they pointed the way for Hubert, the day you arrived. A number of them were old enough to remember what it had been like, years ago, in the warm and golden before, and to insist that it had not changed in the ways that mattered. It was still full of light. The air still smelled green.

In which Edelgard keeps a garden, Hubert learns to fly, and those they leave behind refuse to be left behind.

----------------------------------------------

Watchtower

TLDR: platonic fic and amazing sylvain character study. Like genuinely one of the best i’ve ever read. If you’re someone who really wanted a deeper exploration of Sylvain’s feelings about Dimitri this fic is for u. 

Summary: 

When Sylvain is six and a half and climbs to the top of a tower with no one’s hand in his, he realizes that each and every one of the people he loves has been born as a gift to something else. Dimitri was born for Faerghus, and Felix was born for Dimitri. Glenn was born for the royal family, and Ingrid was born for Galatea and for Glenn. He realizes, too, that what they’re for decides their future. Dimitri will lead them into a better world. Felix will guide his path, and Glenn will protect his life, and Ingrid will bind her future to theirs.

And Sylvain, who was born for the border, will stand in a watchtower. He will see the enemy before it comes, and he will keep Dimitri and Felix and Ingrid and Glenn safe.

Dimitri reappears after five years. Sylvain knows it's his role to fix the mess they're in, but he doesn't know how.

-------------------------------------------

little light

TLDR: really good exploration of flayn and seteth’s relationship (+ with his wife and flayn’s mother) pre canon (also post canon if i remember right) just a really good if heartbreaking family fic 

Summary: 

"She is beautiful, and she is perfect. It is foolish to say so, because the goddess herself says perfect beings cannot exist - but Cichol knows now she must have been wrong, because his daughter is perfect. They name her Cethleann. In the old tongue, it means 'light.'"

Cichol, Cethleann, what they lost, and who they became.

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conjure the wind, ease my mind

TLDR: this author in general writes FANTASTIC work so pls check out their whole repertoire. a platonic fic between holst and claude w an exploration of claude’s past that’s just so good....found brotherhood i am WEEPING 

Summary: 

“I’d like to know what’s wrong. I’d like to help if I can.”

Calculating green eyes lock onto Holst’s own, but this time they’re laced with something a little bit like resignation

Many people call Duke Riegan a liar, but Holst feels like he knows the young man a bit better than that. To call him a liar is wrong, you see, because all Claude has ever really done is master the art of giving up as little of the truth as possible. He keeps truth close, treats it like a valuable commodity.

“I have three brothers,” he says. “Half-brothers.”

***

Claude won’t spar with Holst and Holst wants to know why.

----------------------------------------------

my fellow passerine

TLDR: same author as before and just...god this fic is so good. a platonic exploration of the relationship between Claude and Cyril. This fic has it all: found brotherhood, worldbuilding about Almyra, Claude character study, CYRIL character study. it’s just fantastic 

Summary:

Then the Alliance delegation shows up, and their offering strolls through the gates of the monastery like he already owns the place.

A reminder, for those who need it: Cyril is not an idiot. He has good eyes and he uses them.

An observation, for those who want it: The Golden Deer house leader is Almyran.

~

Cyril knows a lot more than he lets on, Claude is far less covert than he thinks he is, and messing with the guy your parents told you was a possibly-unkillable demon-prince isn’t usually supposed to earn you a lasting friendship but hey… life is already pretty damn weird.

-----------------------------------------

Autotomy

TLDR: god this ferdibert fic just fucking...destroys me. i cannot get through it without crying at least twice and usually more. it’s basically a CF canon divergence with a heavy HEAVY exploration of ferdinand and hubert’s perspectives towards usefulness and how abelist thinking affects that in their efforts to find Shambala after Ferdinand loses his sight from one of Hubert’s experimental spells. All while falling in love. this fic is VERY fucking heavy, please mind the tags, it’s amazing but it’s subject matter is something you need to be very aware of. Also i would highly reccomend reading the prequel to this fic as it provides some critical context to Hubert’s actions that you don’t get through Ferdinand’s flawed pov. Basically this author is a master of character perspective.

Summary: 

Ferdinand von Aegir's war record ends in 1182. The war does not.

Or, blind man's bluff.

---------------------------------------------

Coming of Age

TLDR: same author as before and god...just my FAVOURITE ferdinand character study. Takes place within the period Byleth is away. I don’t want to spoil anything but it’s incredible. Mines the fantastic character drama hook between Edelgard and Ferdinand that canon DIDNT rip

Summary: 

Ferdinand was a general. In theory. Edelgard had promised him continued command of his battalion, and a general needed a certain measure of wealth to supply his horses, his servants, his armor and rations and lodgings and, she’d promised.

But his father sat rotting in a cell, or worse, and it could be nothing more than a fable they thought him simple enough to believe. What did promises matter?

When the house of Aegir collapses around him, Ferdinand struggles to forge a path forward. He quickly discovers he can't manage it alone -- and neither, perhaps, can Edelgard.

------------------------------------------

Another Life

TLDR: same author AGAIN (can u tell theyre my favourite fjsdhfk). Ferdibert fic, a man loving his partner and trying to figure out the best way to support them as they silently wrestle with questions about their gender identity is something that can be so PERSONAL and make u CRY god. also dark flier hubert my beloved. 

Summary: 

Ferdinand notices things. He cannot say what he notices, precisely, because he has no one to ask, and if he were to ask Hubert it would damn well result in every questioned moment up and vanishing forever behind a new wall of prickly austerity. Ferdinand cannot risk that. The things that he notices stick in his chest, and he thinks only, but.

Hubert wrestles with unasked questions; Ferdinand wrestles with a pegasus.

---------------------------------------------

Beneath the Sheets of Paper Lies My Truth

TLDR: Dimilix fic in my FAVOURITE fucking format of secondary in game historical sources exploring their relationship in retrospective.

Summary:

It was said that Duke Fraldarius’s grief at King Dimitri’s death was more potent than even the queen’s—but said by whom, and how, and why?

-----------------------------------------

A Fair Day’s Work

TLDR: Post CF Canon ferdibert where Hubert and Ferdinand’s overworked aides desperately try to get them together so they’ll be too busy being uhhhh AMOUROUS to give them so much work. Very much a romantic comedy with very fun OCs as our protags. 

Summary:

“I may have some coffee in the place for you,” said Prime Minister Aegir. “Let me show you how much better I have become at brewing it to your taste.”

“If you insist,” said Minister Vestra but he sounded pleased. To Delarivier, who had literally made it her profession to attune herself to his tone (usually ranging from sort-of-murder-y to extremely-murder-y), Minister Vestra sounded very pleased indeed.

--

Ferdinand and Hubert's long-suffering aides figure out a way to work fewer hours.

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Roost

TLDR: Dimilix post AM Canon with some pre canon moments. Basically an exploration of the complexity of their relationship with bird symbolism and extra Holy Kingdom lore. Gifting ur lover a vulture is something that can be so personal fksdhfsjkd

Summary:

Dimitri makes an affirmative noise. Then he takes a breath, voice leveling out into what Felix had long ago dubbed his 'future king voice', all steady explanation: “Long ago, the saying fledged right along with the nobles' and royal family's love of hawking, and it has remained a common phrase from one generation to the next. As adviser to the king, the duke is meant to be regal and strong, even deadly when required, from his place at the king's side. To always act as the most piercing, watchful eyes over the Holy Kingdom of Faerghus and her sovereign."

He looks over to Felix as soon as his mouth snaps shut on the final word, as always seeking approval on his recitations.

Felix tilts his head, trying to look unimpressed. “I like eagles.”

A hand automatically comes up to cover the lower half of Dimitri's face, muffling the inarticulate sound of a snort of amusement. “That is good, since you are to be mine.”

***

They say an eagle watches over Fhirdiad.

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A faint and faraway sound

TLDR: Ferdibert with an excellent Hubert centric character study....just so good...makes me warm and fuzzy...the mutual pining and ROMANCE of it all

Summary: 

Hubert learns to be a person, with a lot of help and complication along the way.

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In golden light

TLDR: A really REALLY good ferdibert fic with ferdinand centric pov that focuses on him reflecting on his life as he prepares the Aegir house to become a boarding school. Ferdinand sibling exploration is ABOUND here and it’s great

Summary: 

When his family's summer home at Lake Aegir is set to be converted to a boarding academy, Ferdinand pays it one last visit and contemplates his complicated relationship with family, love, and legacy.

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one three four three four zero

TLDR: the fic that actually got me into dimilix. VERY heavy character study and you NEED to mind both the general fic tags and the content warnings the author lists for each chapter but it’s incredible. Takes a very familiar trope and just. slams you in the face with over 60k words of amazing character study. 

Summary: 

“How are you going to get the One-Eyed Demon of Garreg Mach, the Boar Prince of Faerghus, smuggled past Dukedom soldiers? What plan could you possibly have to get a creature that incapable of even pretending it isn’t a bloodthirsty beast into Dominic without getting caught?”

The Professor gives him one of their steady, unreadable stares. They definitely do not and could not possibly have answered him, “You’re going to pretend to be married to him.”

or, How to Pretend to be Married When One of You Can't Stop Hallucinating and the Other One Uses Hostility to Cope

[earnestly-endlessly]

Bridgeton AU!!!! yespleasethankskbye

Thanks for the ask @pinkoptics. I do love my period drama and when I watched Bridgerton I thought of all the ways I could cherik it. Now you can’t quite match the storyline entirely to the characters of x-men so I had to develop different ways to establish family connections and backgrounds. This is the idea I have currently, and it might change. The main idea of Bridgerton is there, but some of the characters are merged into others so that the characterisation makes sense. Also, this is A/B/O universe so those are the main differences. But I hope you enjoy what I have. 

Bridgerton AU

As London’s social season is fast approaching, Charles Xavier is about to make his formal introduction into high society at the annual Debutante Ball hosted by Queen Emma. Every year the queen hosts the debutante ball where young omegas of noble and gentry families are presented to the royal court. After being presented at court, debutantes are allowed to partake in all the exclusive social events of high society. More importantly, after their debut the young noble omegas are considered eligible for marriage. The season is anticipated by everyone in town, especially when the elusive secret columnist who writes under the pseudonym Lady Whistledown follows reports on the proceedings with her ever watchful gaze.

Charles Xavier is the only son of Brian Xavier and Sharon Marko nee Xavier. After Brian Xavier’s untimely death, Sharon is forced into marriage to Brian’s business partner and friend, Kurt Marko. Kurt Marko has a son Cain from a previous marriage (his wife passed away under suspicious circumstances but there was no proof of foul play). Cain is brutish and boisterous and terribly dim witted. He harbours jealousy towards Charles who is smart, well-read and friendly to all. Charles is also proud and ambitious. Together Kurt and Sharon have Raven who is very close to Charles and becomes overprotective of him.

Kurt Marko doesn’t care about his omega stepson’s societal status and is keen to marry him off as soon as possible. He has made an arrangement with Lord William Stryker II who has shown Charles great interest. Kurt Marko owes Stryker’s father hefty money as he has been spending the Xavier fortune on gambling and indulging his and his wife’s overly excessive lifestyle. By marrying Charles to Stryker’s son, he has solved all of his problems. His plan to marry Charles quietly off to William Stryker II is dashed when Charles receives attention and high praise from the queen herself at the Debutante ball. Suddenly, Charles becomes the most sought after omega of the season and every noble and single alpha is after his hand in marriage.

When Charles and the Marko´s are invited to the first social gathering at the Summers residence in Kensington Charles becomes hopeful of finding a suitable mate. Despite his independence and keen mind, Charles is also very much aware that in order to leave the Markos household he must find a suitable mate.

The Summers family lives near the Marko´s and are an unusually large family. Christopher and Katherine have eight children, Scott being the oldest of them. He has his eyes set on young miss Jean Grey who is also one of the more favourable omegas of the season. The Summers have four omegas to present for the debutante: Henry Philip ´Hank´, Alexander ‘Alex’, Anna Marie and Sean. Their three youngest, Katherine ‘Kitty’, Nathaniel and Gabriel are too young to be presented. Charles and Raven have been close friends with the Summers siblings since childhood. Charles is especially close to Hank who is awkward and doesn’t have the typical small stature of young noble omegas. Hank doesn’t want to sacrifice his studies and get married to a noble alpha. He wants a future in academia and spends most of his time holed in the library with his stack of books.

During the Summers ball, Charles is eager to be introduced to eligible alphas but realizes that Kurt has no intention of making his formal introductions. Raven is of no help either. As an alpha, Raven knows many of the alphas who have their eye on Charles and feels as if they would all take advantage of her brother. She even steers him away from the dashing Lord Azazel and the lovely Lady Braddock. There are also more disagreeable suitors such as Lord William Stryker II whose attempts of seduction are repulsive and aggravating. In his haste to remove himself from Stryker’s presence Charles accidentally stumbles into a tall, handsome alpha. In his desperation to get out of Stryker’s hands he attempts to engage the alpha in a conversation with no luck. It turns out that the alpha is rude, proud and standoffish. Charles deems his character altogether unpleasant though he begrudgingly admits that he is handsome, and his scent is pleasing. Thankfully Raven sweeps him away before he can make any more fool of himself. Raven explains to him that he just ran into Erik Lehnsherr, Duke of Hastings. Raven warns Charles of the Duke who is an acquaintance of hers. Despite her young age, Raven has tried to establish her place in the alpha community of the noble and gentry of London. In her experience the Duke is taciturn and aloof with no intention of marrying.

Much to his dismay, Jean Grey receives all the attention that night. This becomes even worse when the Summers family present their cousin and ward, Angel Salvadore, at the next ball who gains the attention of everyone with her beauty and charm. Little does the family know that she has secrets of her own that are best kept under wraps.

The days following the Summers ball Charles is called on by various suitors but Kurt Marko´s ominous presence and Raven’s forthright comments and criticism of the suitors repel most of them away.

Charles hopes that he’ll have better luck at the ball hosted by Viscount MacTaggert. At the ball, Kurt informs Charles that he has agreed to give Charles’ hand to Lord William Stryker II in marriage. Charles refuses to marry Stryker and storms off. As he seeks solace in the quiet rose garden, Charles is ambushed by none other than Stryker who attempts to take advantage of him. He’s instantly grateful when a tall, dark figure arrives in time to strike Stryker in the head and render him unconscious. Unfortunately for Charles, his saviour is none other than Duke Erik Lehnsherr himself and Charles reluctantly thanks him for saving him (though he assures him that he could have taken care of it himself). The Duke merely humors him and offers to escort him back to the party. Charles explains to him his predicament and Kurt’s acceptance of Stryker’s proposal on his behalf.

During Charles’ explanation, Erik halts him in his step and proposes an idea that is so absurd that Charles can’t help but laugh. Erik proposes that they pretend to court each other. With Charles on his arm everyone would believe that he has found his true mate and he would be free of the constant wooing of young, impressionable omegas. This would help Charles gain the attention of eligible Alphas of good standing, and to challenge his stepfather who has already promised his hand to Stryker. Unknown to Charles, Erik has made a vow to never marry and have children due to events from his past that involve his father Jakob Lehnsherr and his father’s associate Sebastian Shaw. Erik intends to end the toxic reign of his father’s and shaw’s influence by ending their legacy with himself. His last vow to his father was that he would never conceive children and involve an omega into the legacy his father left on his deathbed.

At first their arrangement goes exactly to plan. Charles’ new relationship with the Duke makes suitors seek him out at every ball and he receives severe calls a day from hopeful suitors. The whole affair draws the attention of the handsome Colonel James Howlett and the dashing General Steve Rogers (who harbours a scandalous secret that gets reported in Lady Whistledown’s column). When the queen herself invites Charles to tea at the palace she introduces him to her cousin Prince Warren Worthington III who shows Charles great interest Charles finally feels as if he can escape Kurt Marko’s clutches at last.

The only problem is that as Charles continues his ruse with the Duke…Erik, he starts to become fond of him. Once taciturn and cold, Erik seems to let his guard down when he is around Charles. As their charade goes on Charles begins to form a sort of attachment to Erik and finds that not merely does he seek his presence, but he looks forward to their chaperoned outings. Moreover, Erik gives him lingering, burning glances and subtle touches that makes his skin tingle. But Charles can’t harbour feelings for Erik when he has plenty of other suitors. Besides, Charles is sure that he doesn’t feel the same way about him. He probably sees him as a naïve, foolish omega with no worth.

Their whole charade takes a turn when lady Jean Grey witnesses Erik kiss Charles without an escort present in the maze by the Grey manor house. Jean Grey threatens to reveal the truth and Charles knows that it will ruin him and his prospects entirely. Raven challenges Erik to a duel since it’s her duty to protect her brother’s virtue. Charles manages to stop the proceedings before they go any further and pleas for them to stop, eventually begging Erik to marry him and end their foolish escapades. With reluctance Erik agrees to marry Charles. Raven is furious at Charles and claims that she can end this without Charles having to sacrifice his happiness and freedom. However, Charles is steadfast. Erik agrees to marry Charles but makes it clear that he can‘t and won‘t have children. In his desperation Charles agrees.

However, Charles does not know the reason behind Erik‘s refusal to have children and in the first weeks of their marriage he gives it no heed. Eventually, Charles finds out the truth and challenges Erik‘s decision which ultimately challenges their fragile relationship. Charles‘ belief that Erik was starting to care for him shatters which makes him question his growing feelings for him.

Their whole affair is closely followed by Lady Whistledown‘s column. Not only is the affair between Charles Xavier and the Duke the talk of town, but Ms. Salvadore‘s affair with young Mr. Armando Munoz who was believed to hold the affection of Alexander Summers. Things become even more complicated when Lady Whisteldown reports that Ms. Salvadore has a dark secret of her own.

[snowe-zolynn-rogers]

Pairings: None Yet

Word Count: 1,583 Words

Summary: Maria and Mercury tell stories of the pasts.

Warnings: Self-Deprecation Mention, Abuse Mentions, Child Abuse Mention, Amputation Mention, Death Mention, Weapon Mention, Food Mention, let me know if I should tag anything else.

Shadows Are Made Of Light: Chapter 3

Mercury was amazed while Maria was telling the story of her past. The most powerful Silver Eyed Warrior and someone he looked up to as a child, he respected her. But the story also infuriated him on her behalf. How dare they take her eyes like that? Is that what Salem would do to him if she found him?

"But I wasn't. I went into hiding soon after." Maria explained.

"I can't believe it. You. You're the Grimm Reaper. You were a legend. And then you disappeared." Qrow looked startled, shocked, appalled. It all made Mercury nearly laugh at him. He behaved like a obstinate child in front of his idol.

"How exactly does a legend disappear?" Oscar asked.

"You never used your name, never showed your face. Lots of us thought you were just laying low. Eventually we came to accept that you were probably dead. But the stories about you, I based my weapon off of yours. I wanted to be as good as the Grimm Reaper." Qrow spouted.

"Well, I'm nothing but a disappointment. So you're well on your way." She announced with a huff.

"How can you say that?" Blake asked. Mercury shook with rage. His idol, sitting here, criticizing herself.

"Child, a huntress is supposed to protect others to the bitter end. But after I lost my eyes, I only ever looked after myself. Even after my surgery, I was too afraid to fight, afraid someone would find me again, finish what the others started. You shouldn't aspire to be like me, especially when some of you are clearly stronger already. It's comforting seeing that your generation seems up to the task of inheriting this world. I'm just sorry I didn't do more to leave it in better shape."

Maria wistfully looked out over the ground they were passing over. Mercury felt rage subside slightly, she was scared, he understood that. That was exactly why he'd run after Beacon, run away to hide in Mistral only to find out that Lionheart was a traitor and he had to run again, to a place with no primary headmasters like Argus.

"When I was thirteen, I found a little girl when my father took me on one of his missions. Pretty young, a baby no older than her first few months, couldn't even walk yet. I named her Chrome because she didn't have a name. Father called her my sister but I cared for her more like a parent to a child, she was my daughter by all account. He didn't like my attention being drawn off elsewhere besides him so he only got worse toward me and her." Mercury looked at the pitying looks on the faces of team RWBY and Oscar and Qrow, even Maria looked sad.

"One day, I decided to run away from him with her. I managed to get to the next town over and I gave Chrome to a group of training huntsmen that were visiting the town from Atlas who promised to take care of her and I and take us to Atlas, since they were returning to their homeland that night. I knew he couldn't get to Atlas, so Atlas was the safest place to put her. That was until his friends found me and dragged me back home. He took my legs that day for defying him and getting rid of his only chip left to bargain for my obedience. He eventually got mad after about a week that I could no longer act as his personal maid enough that he gave me metal legs to replace the ones he took but, when he did that, I ended up killing him." He kept his composure. After all, Maria hadn't lost her cool when she was explaining.

"I would have hid too, probably found Chrome again afterward if Cinder hadn't found me there, looking for him. I would have run away and hid just like you did if she hadn't threatened me with knowing about Chrome. Because there's nothing wrong with hiding after something bad happens. It doesn't matter what you promised or who you promised it to. When you're hurt or scared and you want to hide, you do it because the person you need to save also has to be yourself sometimes."

He refused to look at the pity on their faces anymore. But he could feel the tension in the air loosen somewhat. Maria gave a little laugh.

"Thank you, Mercury." She looked at him smiling.

"Thank you for sharing something that personal, Mercury." Oscar whispered.

"I also have happier stories if you depressing bastards want something happier." He smirked.

"I think we could use happy after stuff that heavy." Ruby told him.

"Well, there was this one time Chrome decided to braid my hair as practice for her own. My hair was in tiny braids for over a week while I tried to get them out." He laughed.

"I can imagine that, that's the worst part." Yang cackled from the front.

"The great Mercury Black with dozens of tiny braids in his hair for upward of a week." Ruby chuckled. And, even if they were laughing at him, he was happy that the tension was gone now. The heaviness left in the air from those nightmares in Brunswick Farms was finally gone.

"Oh, I was thinking, Maria. Maybe you could teach me to use the Silver Eyes the way you did?" Ruby asked.

"Given I'm already training Mercury here for that same thing. It shouldn't be hard. I've always looked for other Silver Eyed Warriors to train, to teach the next generation of Silver Eyes and give hope back to this world." Maria smiled.

"You have Silver Eyes?" Ruby asked.

"How did you think we got out of that basement?" Mercury asked.

"I thought it was me?" Ruby seemed confused.

"You did the first one. The one where it got those nightmares away from Blake. I did the second that gave us time to get out." Mercury told her.

"Silver Eyed buddies then." Ruby lightly punched his shoulder.

"Hey, don't go stealing my metal limb buddy." Yang joked.

"I'm not. I'm not." Ruby stuck her tongue out at her sister. Then Ruby's scroll beeped and she brought it out. "It's Jaune!" Yang even stopped her bike.

"How?" Yang asked.

"The city?" Ruby asked. "Wait." She took the scroll from her ear and looked toward the direction that Yang was driving to find a path that led up a mountain. Argus. Yang made quick work of getting up the mountain to announce they'd arrived in Argus. Finally, this nightmare was over. They were safe.

Once there, Yang locked Bumblebee in a storage garage for vehicles. While the others waited for...something. Mercury didn't know what. He was just hoping they'd planned out a place to sleep at.

"Cute boy Oz!" Mercury looked toward the sound only to see a streak of pink as something tackled Oscar, though he helped steady them from falling on the ground while everyone else greeted team JNPR or, well, JNR. Mercury got a pang of guilt again. He had been part of the plan orchestrated that resulted in Pyrrha's death.

"Wait, who is this?" Nora asked.

"Mercury." Yang smiled proudly.

"WHAT!?" Jaune snapped.

"I've defected. I ran away. Salem would have killed me."

"Why would she kill a henchman besides you being expendable?" Jaune took out Crocea Mors, intending to use it against him.

"Because I have Silver Eyes. She kills people with Silver Eyes so I ran away and hid in Mistral. I left on the Argus train after Haven Academy was shut down." He told him.

"Why should we trust you?" Jaune asked.

"I have a daughter in Atlas. I'm trying to get to her. She should be turning six in a week." Mercury told him.

"You have a kid? A real kid?" Jaune asked, putting Crocea Mors away but laughing in his face.

"Yeah. I have her picture if you don't believe me." he angrily snapped.

"Yeah sure." Mercury pulled up the few pictures of Chrome he'd managed to get over the time he had his scroll.

"She looks just like you." Jaune hummed.

"I know, surprising considering she's adopted." He smirked.

"Alright, we can keep the stray you guys found." Jaune told them.

"Hey!" Mercury wanted to feel insulted but, honestly, it was kind of funny being referred to as a stray like he was some cat they'd found on their journey. They went onto the transit and Mercury just followed them around to Jaune's sister's house.

Mercury would absolutely not fawn over the baby Saphron had. He totally wasn't. Nope, not at all. He absolutely wasn't and no one had any proof that he was soft toward children, no sir. Mercury did take the food offered to him by Nora.

"C'mon, eat up. You can't be passing out on us." Nora shoved the sandwich into his mouth to stop his argument. It was then he realized he was actually really hungry.

He listened to their discussion this time while he ate. He wanted to know what would be happening. He wanted to make sure he could help at least. Mercury had a bad feeling, like something bad would happen to impede their journey like those damned nightmares.

"So we kinda already tried that and it didn't go super great." Jaune admitted.

"Come on, it couldn't be that bad." Yang laughed. Mercury had a feeling that she would regret saying that.

[yaboylevi]

“Let’s talk!”

In this post, I’d like to examine why the words chosen to sway and stop Eren in chapter 133 didn’t resonate with some readers, as well as with Eren.

Disclaimer #1: This isn’t a justification of any kind. I merely tried to look in a critical way at the individual parts, because while reading them, I felt a disconnect with what the 104th thought could get to Eren.  As I read, it felt obvious that what they were saying wasn’t gonna work. So I asked myself, Is Isayama such a bad writer that all his characters say is so obviously inappropriate or ineffective, or is this on purpose? (I still don’t know the answer)

Disclaimer #2: I realize that the 104th was suddenly brought in front of “Eren”, so they were surprised, and didn’t have time to sort through their reasonings, but I’d also say they have had plenty of time before. Also, maybe the suddenness of it all was actually a good thing, so we could see how some of the characters really felt.

Let’s start with Jean:

“We’ll figure out the rest from here” and, after Eren says he won’t stop, “Why not? Are you saying you can’t trust us?!”

First of all, Eren has been feeling like he was partially* pushed to this outcome, because in 4 years they couldn’t figure out what else to do to save the island in the long term. They still cannot come up with anything better than “we will be left alone for a while”, so Jean’s words offer an empty promise. It has been established that Eren won’t settle for “a while”, he wants a “forever”. Never mind that a temporary solution would still require for Historia and her kids to be sacrificed.

*Eren also feels like it was his own fault, due to “his past self wishing for everything to disappear”. We are still not sure what this means exactly, and if it is true (I’m thinking of Paths shenanigans here).

Then, Jean talks about “trust”, particularly in comrades in arms. This is a topic that has been explored repeatedly since the beginning of the story, through Levi’s “make a choice” speeches, and Eren’s harsh experiences. Basically: when Eren decided to trust in his friends and comrades, in the forest of Giant Trees, Levi’s squad got killed, Eren captured, Levi injured. All in all, it resulted in many losses, and Eren has felt a deep guilt for that outcome ever since those events, all the way through Uprising Arc and probably even later on. No matter that it wasn’t his fault, he felt that it was. So the next time he had to decide whether to trust in himself or in his comrades, he decided to trust in himself. The story also calls back to the time he “chose wrong”, as if it wasn’t an obvious parallel already.

Eren is rewarded with his friends safe and sound.

So it is no surprise that, as much as Eren - I believe -  would love to trust them, experience told him that he cannot, or the price to pay will be their lives. Eren has been entrusting the SC to find another solution to the Rumbling for 3-4 years, and in the end Marley was close to declare war on Paradis. Eren isn’t averse to trusting his comrades, he just feels like he cannot, not on this one choice. (Albeit I think he’s trusting them to do the choice of stopping him - but there is something he needs to do alone).

When it comes to Connie, I feel like bringing up Sasha’s death wasn’t the best of choices. Eren feels guilty about that. He broke down in such a helpless, desperate way, that I find it hard that Connie’s words would absolve any of that hatred and guilt he must be feeling. “We are the same” - both Eren and Reiner have acknowledged this about each other, and if it has even a bit of credibility, then no amount of apologies for not understanding them, or forgiveness for what they did, is gonna make them feel any better about the death and destruction they have both caused and feel guilty about. 

It was when Reiner threw himself to the ground and refused to accept Eren’s understanding and forgiveness that Eren reiterated they are the same, after all.

Hence why Connie’s words couldn’t have had the desired effect. (Also, guys, look, the “let’s band together against a common enemy is RIGHT on this page...lol)

Now, Armin’s words.

To me, it seems like he doesn’t really know what to say. Or rather, he tried every idea that bounced in his head at that moment, without a clear strategy. He didn’t have time to form one, and besides it’s difficult to decide whether to use an objective approach or an emotional one when it comes to your best friends. But even then, I felt like the reasonings, and reasons, he brought up, failed to reach Eren in a significant manner. And by this, I don’t mean that Eren wouldn’t want to just drop everything and hug his friends... we all know he would, under normal circumstances, because there is no doubt he loves them deeply... but it seems to me he has resolved to push his own feelings down and just...move forward - which is in a direction away from his friends.

Armin starts with logic, “Eren has brought so much destruction that nobody will interfere with the Island for centuries”. Except, Armin has no proof. On the other hand, Eren has probably seen that there are still enemy forces advancing in their attack of the Rumbling, so if he were to stop the Rumbling now, they’d attack Paradis. “The island is fine now.” It isn’t. I think Armin is aware that this was a lie on his part.

Armin immediately realizes that’s not good enough, and that he’s wrong, and Eren knows, so he switches to the emotional route. 

“We were wrong. We forced you to this point”. It would not resonate with Eren, because Eren is too aware of the fact that what he is doing is not because his friends never understood him. As bad as they acted toward their friend, they aren’t the cause for this war. The Rumbling exists because there are people who were ready to destroy Paradis.

This prompts Jean to bring up another elephant in the room: “Eren is doing this for our sake”…which isn’t wrong, but telling Eren he doesn’t have to do it for them just won’t make Eren stop. Eren has repeatedly stated that he wants them to live, and be free. Armin has just reminded him that if Eren stops, that freedom will be crushed, along with their lives. Eren, of course, cannot accept that.

After Eren refuses to stop, Armin gets in full desperation-mode, saying they will be forever together. This is untrue, and I am not sure Armin fully realizes in the moment (how could he not, though?), because Eren will die in 4 years, Armin in 9. Besides the more pressing matter that the island can be attacked again, if Eren stops.

Lastly, “Don’t go any futher away from us than you already have”.

This is a sentiment that Armin shares with Mikasa, since all the way back to the Clash of the Titans Arc. At the time, they thought back on how Eren was always rushing forward, leaving them behind. Mikasa’s argument, in chapter 133, also touches on this. I said “argument”, but it’s more like a confession. The chapter is called Sinners for a reason, after all.

So yeah, Mikasa.

Amongst all the ineffective argument that were brought up, Mikasa’s words are the ones that took me aback the most, honestly. I am not sure if I am interpreting this right, but she sounds like she’s okay with falling to Eren’s level, as long as she can be with him. Nothing new here, but more specifically, the worst sins Eren has committed, for example killing innocents and children, which is what Mikasa focused her horrified shock on in Liberio, she is willing to do herself. That’s how you share a burden of sins, by taking part in committing them. And that’s what she acknowledges. What she wants. She says it quietly because she seems ashamed of that. Because she wanted to be like Eren, to stay close to Eren, and to share his sins, she killed and enabled Eren. So now that she has “committed the same sins”…? She has conquered a spot next to Eren? So he should stop and come back. This seems to be her line of reasoning. This is horrifying, I understand why she didn’t have the courage to yell it.

We know that Eren’s fear is that he may have enslaved her to his will, and whether he still believes it or he has just a few doubts left, seeing Mikasa admitting to something like this, must have reminded Eren of exactly why he wants Mikasa to be separated from him. ‘Cause this isn’t healthy.

Eren surely can’t feel any better by knowing Mikasa had followed that logic - maybe unconsciously. If he tried to be firm and cruel once to get her to “abandon” him, it can only get worse.

The second part of Mikasa’s little speech isn’t any better, as far as situational context goes.

In the text, Mikasa has embodied the concept of family in regards to Eren, just as much as Armin instead embodied their childhood dream of freedom.

And sure enough, Mikasa repeats what she told Eren in Liberio: “Please come back (home)”. Well, at least the Japanese version is the same, lol.

It is (still) her wish (it seems like nothing has changed in 30 chapters). But other than that, it brings up memories of Liberio, and of Mikasa’s disappointment and pain for Eren’s actions. The fact that Mikasa is willing to forgive (or better, accept) everything just because it’s Eren, may make Eren feel like she’s still not free from his influence. He may be feeling as if he brought her to accept killing innocents as something that can be partially overlooked…And I doubt it is what he wanted.

Besides, it seems that the story wants Mikasa to learn to let go as well. If Mikasa has kept on trying to keep Eren close, and it’s now become even as explicit as saying, literally, “come back home”, that “itterasshai” at the beginning of the manga counters this need and seems to imply Mikasa (who I suppose is the girl saying that) will learn to let Eren free to “go far away from her”.

“Itterasshai”, in Japanese, is a wish for someone to be safe on their journey, whenever they go out, with the expectation that they will come back. Mikasa is soflty smiling, meaning that she is okay with Eren “going out and away”.��Meanwhile, the Mikasa who costantly repeats that she wants Eren to come back, to stay close, is a Mikasa who suffers and cries.

And finally, Levi. What a lacklustre moment.

It feels like Levi believes no word can sway Eren (he isn’t wrong, but still…).

Levi has never been averse to “talking it out”. He has always mostly resorted to talking, before anything else, when it counted. With minor characters such as Dimo Reeves, but mostly with regards to Eren: when the first Levi squad was about to attack Eren, Levi tried to talk them down; whenever Eren was in doubt or set on hating himself, Levi reasoned it out with him, with heartfelt little words that hit Eren’s core at the right angle. Even when Eren was out of his mind and high on adrenaline, fear and rage on the rooftop in Shiganshina, Levi opted to try and talk to him first.

The point is, he has always tried to understand Eren so that what he ended up saying, it would help the situation or resonate with Eren, or so he hoped.

This time, he doesn’t say anything of the sort. He merely admitted, in a very roundabout and lacklustre way, if not a bit too parodic for my tastes, what everyone else has said: that he would forgive Eren if he stopped now. Which isn’t bad, per se, but it’s not even close to what Levi used to be, or how he used to approach Eren.

Where Eren’s friends have missed out on what their words could achieve, potentially, due to a mix of not understanding Eren fully, and a concoction of feelings (panic, desperation, frustration) making them spout things that had no significant influence on Eren in that moment, Levi on the other hand didn’t even try this time, even though he has always done so before.

I am not sure if it’s because of Isayama’s total disinterest in Levi’s character as of late, or if it’s due to Levi himself not caring anymore - albeit it doesn’t seem the case, because he has kept on trying to find alternatives to killing Eren, so I don’t understand why he didn’t even try...

...unless he already knew it wouldn’t have worked out how Armin&Co wanted (and here I have conspiracy theories but let’s end it here lol).

Anyway, I hope this wasn’t too boring, I just felt like breaking down the scene a bit. Let me know what you thought of the various things the characters said in Paths, and if you agree with me, or if I am the only one who was disappointed by the scene, lol!

[whump-town]

Too Close

I’m ending my super shitty day on a positive note: Hotchniss

Retirement was supposed to mean that the danger is gone.

“This is SSA Emily Prentiss.” She’s trying to wrap up her paperwork for the afternoon. Not that anything thus far is going according to plan. She’s about thirty minutes from just texting her husband and telling him that there’s no way she’s making it home in time for hot passionate sex and Jurassic Park when she gets a call. It’s to her office phone so she’s assuming it’s not Aaron calling to whine that she hasn’t left yet.

The voice on the other line is unfamiliar. “Hi, ma’am,” the voice greets. “I’m calling in regards to your husband, Aaron Hotchner.” That immediately strikes Emily as strange. Hotch hasn’t worked for the better part of the last year. Calls have pretty much stopped coming for him and even the ones that do don’t connect her to him in regards to their marriage. 

“Your husband suffered a cardiac arrest this afternoon--”

Shock factor aside, she doesn’t drop the phone. She’s gotten all kinds of awful news over the phone. Stories about babies being mutilated and killed. Women being raped and tortured. This is… They can’t be compared. They’re not at all the same. Hearing those awful harrowing things does nothing to dull the way her throat gets tight. 

The voice drones on and Emily’s barely, if at all, able to keep herself together.

“Saint Sebastian,” she repeats back to the woman on the other end. The same hospital Foyet left him at. 

The other woman on the line hums an affirmation. She keeps talking. Something about the ICU and visiting hours but Emily already knows she’s going into that hospital, guns blazing with her badge for everyone to see. Aaron was FBI and all it takes is one phone call to the right people and she can get anything she wants.

And right now all she wants is her husband.

“Bella--” she looks up, blinking away tears she hadn’t realized were falling. Dave is standing in her doorway, pulling his hands out of his pockets as he gets a full view of her shaking body. “Emily, what’s wrong?” Whatever it is that he’d wanted it thrown out the door as he moves to her side.

She stares down at the phone in her hands. 

Retirement was supposed to mean he’s safe.

“Aaron had a heart attack.”

Matt and Luke only know Aaron from brief interactions. 

Given that the couple has lunch together frequently, an easy way to make up the time they’ve spent apart and a good excuse for Hotch to get out of the house, the team sees a lot of him. He rarely speaks once he hits the doors, offering friendly nods to Tara, Reid, JJ, Garcia, or Dave. Matt had only just found himself on the receiving end of one of those nods. After the two men spent an afternoon at Dave’s bonding over chaotic sons. 

Luke just gets a flat look. It brings Garcia deep joy that Luke is willing to do just about anything to get a nod from Hotch and her old boss won’t give him the time of day. 

They don’t really know Hotch but they understand how important he is to the others.

It takes Emily a moment to find the nerve to speak the words. To tell the other’s what has happened. Her hands are trembling at her sides and tears are threatening to fall. She won’t let them, not yet. It’s no surprise that the other’s don’t hold back. 

They don’t really know Hotch but they know how important he is to Emily. They’ve all heard his voice on the other end of a line, comforting Emily as she sits as far as she can from the others on the jet. They’ve come home to find him standing in the bullpen, standing silent and still for as long as Emily wants in a bearhug. 

Matt is the first person to make a noise other than stifling sobs or muffled gasps. He offers her a small, comfortable smile, “I can drive you.” 

Emily nods and forces herself to swallow against the panic bubbling up her chest. “Uhm okay,” she can work with that. “Pen?” Garcia looks up. “I need you and Luke to go to my house and get Jack and a bag for Aaron.” Emily spaces for a moment… What else do they need? How long will he even be in the hospital? She doesn’t even know how bad he is--

“Hotch still keeps a go-bag,” Dave continues. “It’ll be right by the door.” He waits for the nods that mean they understand. “Good,” he surmises. “Reid, JJ, Tara-- stay here. Hold the fort down.” He takes Emily around the shoulders, guiding her to the elevator. He can feel her tension, can see her fear. 

He can’t find it within himself to put aside his own fear to comfort her.

That’s his kid. 

These are his kids.

The pair are stopped before they get too far in the cardiac ward.

Matt’s waiting in the parking lot, waiting for a text from Dave.

They only allow her back. His condition is critical and it’s borne out of the admission that his cardiac output is worrisome. It’s not severe but it needs to be steadily monitored for the next day, maybe longer. For now, they don’t even want Emily back there but badges and the tears streaming down her face buy her one ticket back.

He’s sleeping. 

Out of habit, she draws the blankets around his waist to his chin. He gets cold when he’s sleeping. His body heats everything around him like a furnace but he likes the feeling of the weight of the blanket across his chest. Without it, he shivers. She can’t be certain if he’s actually cold but what she does know is that he won’t rest well if he’s not able to wrap his lean body around her own like a cat. 

Docile. 

He sleeps for hours and she does her best to distract herself as best as she can. It works, more or less.

“I was wondering when you’d get here.”

She looks up from her book to find him staring back at her. She moves closer to him, book forgotten. It’s fine, she wasn’t really reading it anyway. She could get as far as a paragraph before she became distracted by nearly anything in the room. Her thoughts just kept drifting back to him. To what it would mean to lose him. 

And she nearly did. 

For a moment she’s struck as to which personality she’s to show. The doting wife who warned him? She did. Over and over, more a mantra than a proper warning, but every day they had this conversation. Not so much coffee. Go to be bed earlier. Stop worrying over small things. 

The partner? They haven’t been to that level in some time. It’s a shield they’d worn during Foyet and Doyle. Partners. Much more of a, “I told you” than a proper “I almost lost you”. It allowed them the proximity they craved from one another while keeping up a friendly rouse for the others. Besides the notion that neither were prepared to admit their feelings.

Or can she just be scared?

A terrified wife. Not a unit chief. Not the work equivalent of a best friend. Just a wife.

“Em,” his hand trembles on the bed where he lays it. Palm up and waiting for her to take it. She does. Her own hand much softer than his and for a moment, she just sits and rubs her hand against his. Thinking about what it would mean to slowly forget the way it feels to hold his hand. 

She collects herself slowly. Just having him close is doing the job pretty well. She has to stand up to reach him but she presses her hips against the guardrail and leans down, cupping his cheek in her hand as she kisses him. Despite her best efforts, she starts to cry. 

Their lips are still pressed together when the first tear falls, Hotch feels it hit his face. “Em,” it’s all he can do remain where he is. The pain he feels in his chest the moment he lifts his shoulders is overwhelming. A strangled sound leaves his mouth, his body tensing. It’s overwhelming for a moment too long and as the black clouds in his vision fade away he realizes he’s simply made it worse.

The feeling of her cold hand in his.. nearly lost forever.

“You have to take it easy,” she admonishes gently. She simply doesn’t have the heart or the energy to fuss with him right now. Not when all she wants is to hold him in her arms. And how long will she have to wait for that? Before he can lay on his stomach and rest across her chest. To be held and loved within her arms. 

The bags under his eyes are worse than they ever were when he was an agent but the smile on his face comes easily. They can deny and fight it all they want but retirement has been kind to him. It’s made him happier. “Emily,” he whispers her name the same way he always has. His chest caving in like he’s in shock that a name like hers can be spoken by a man like him. “Can’t a husband fake a cardiac arrest so that his gorgeous wife can come to rescue him? Huh?”

She tuts, shaking her head and looking away from him. She hates his stupid humor and more than that she hates that he’s joking. That he’s trying to cheer her up.

“You haven’t been paying me any attention,” he pouts and she’s amazed to find that’s where Jack gets it from. “What was I to do, my love?”

My love. 

That bastard.

She leans back against the guard rail, the metal digging into her hips painfully. “Well,” she returns, “how about you try asking your gorgeous wife to lunch, hmm?” She strokes back a strand of his peppered hair. He’s going to make a very good silver fox. “Or,” she adds, “you can take me to dinner. No more cardiac arrests, though, okay? Dramatic flares have never really been my thing.”

He reaches between them and rests a trembling palm against her cheek, his eyes darting between hers. “Promise,” he whispers and they both know that it’s not that simple but it’s a start.

“Do you,” she leans down and kisses him, pulling back so that their lips still brush as she speaks. “Do you, also, promise to behave for the physical therapist, nutritionist, and cardiologist?”

He groans.

“Aaron,” she warns.

He grumbles, rolls his eyes, but nods. “I’ll behave.”

She kisses him, “good.” She runs a finger over his cheekbone, “I love you.”

“I love you, too.”

[sockablock]

(prev) + (start) + (next)

Chapter 11: Make Yourself at Home

“So, this is the place you were talking about, huh? I’m not going to lie, it’s much better than I expected.”

“Aw, thanks! It’s my momma’s cabin. She owns a bunch of places around here, but this is the closest one to school.”

“A bunch of places? What a lucky woman.”

“Wait ‘til you find out what else she owns.” Nott draped her coat over the nearest hook. “Lucky doesn’t even start to cover it.”

The rest of the gang filed in through the door.

“Oh, I don’t know,” Beau began with a grin, “I wouldn’t mind staying the night in a—"

“Anyway,” Fjord coughed into his hand. “Isn’t there something more important we should talk about?”

“That is right.” Caleb turned to Molly. “Namely, what it is we should do about…well, you.”

“Is that so?” Without looking back, their newest cabin-mate strode into the living room. He threw himself across Beau’s favorite chair. “Good luck with that, then. I’ll be here in the meantime.”

“In the meantime? What’s that supposed to mean?” Beau followed him in and made a mental vow to steal her seat back as soon as possible.

Molly waved his hand. “I was under the impression that your…angel would be taking care of things. That’s her new job, isn’t it? To mask me from bikers?”

“Only for now.” Yasha met his gaze with a stern frown. “I cannot look after you forever. I will not even be here for much longer.”

“Which would be our second problem,” Caleb sighed. Behind him, Jester—and for some reason, Caduceus—danced around looking for bedsheets and extra toothbrushes, the hallmarks of an excellent host.

“Right,” said Beau. “We sort of left off on a…I hate to say it, but sort of a dead end.”

“Really? Weren’t you working something out?” Nott asked. “What about all that stuff with the dictionary, Caleb? And those star charts?”

“Those are only a start,” he shrugged. “With our current level of information, it is not enough. Like I said…when was it now, yesterday?”

“It felt like years ago.” Fjord combed dirt out of his hair.

“Regardless,” Caleb continued, “we need more clues. Something. Anything. At this point I would even take subjective commentary. Like the way the sun felt. Or if there was much sun at all, Yasha.”

“You mean like if she was on the moon?” Nott asked.

“I mean like if there was a lot of shade. Like in a jungle.”

They turned to Yasha. She sighed.

“I’m not sure, I…” she squeezed her eyes shut, “…I think…yes, the sun. It…felt warm.”

When she opened her eyes, they were still staring. “Er….”

Caleb came to her rescue. “Okay, perhaps I should have been less literal. Sorry, Engel, but that was not very helpful.”

“Pajamas!” Jester spun back into the living room. Behind her, Caduceus was holding a tray of tea, topped off with a little jar of honey. “Here you are, Molly!” She leaned over the couch. “And let me say again, welcome to our house! Demon of not, I think you’re great. I’m excited to hang out with you some more!”

“Ah, you’re a darling,” he flashed her a smile. “I can already tell you’ll be my favorite. Although, perhaps, I think I’ll be better company once I’m clean. If you all are going to keep talking about…whatever important thing you’re talking about, I’d like to use this opportunity to shower.”

“Oh, yeah, here,” Fjord quickly stood up. “You can borrow my shampoo, the bathroom’s there—"

The two of them wandered off. Caduceus handed everyone else their mugs.

“Let’s keep going tomorrow,” Caleb said, trying on his most reassuring smile. “Who knows? We might find something after all. And with more time, Yasha, you might regain more memories.”

It was small, but Beau noticed Yasha skip past his gaze to stare deep into her cup.

“Maybe,” she said. “I hope so. Otherwise…”

“It’ll be okay,” Caduceus smiled. “In my experience, the best things come with time.”

— — —

Beauregard lingered by herself in the hallway outside their room. Currently, Jester and Fjord were giving a freshly-washed Molly the grand tour of the cabin while Caleb and Caduceus—with varying degrees of contribution—rearranged their room to accommodate him. And since Nott was calling her family in the living room, this would probably be Beau’s best chance to talk to Yasha alone.

She breathed in.

Nearly every conversation they’d had since the initial fall had ended in a tangled mess. Not to mention, Yasha’s situation had changed dramatically in the last few hours. On top of that, Beau was still roiling in guilt for lying to her all those days ago. It was very likely that neither of them would be in the right headspace for a heart-to-heart, and that wasn’t even taking into account how nauseous Beau felt at that very phrase—“heart-to-heart.”  

Something else was poking at her too, something she’d had to shove aside earlier but now couldn’t shake away: it had been a while since she’d seen Yasha’s wings, but she knew for a fact that the first two times, they had been…well, they had been white—

And coupled with the fact that the angel only recently had started acting so anxious to leave, whereas before she’d been confused, but way more relaxed…

Beau breathed out and stared at the floor. Maybe it was time to stop wondering about what her own motivations were. Caleb, Fjord, and Jester had all made valid points, but truth be told, she was starting to get the sense that right now, how she felt wasn’t as important.

Still, the question did remain. What would she rather do?

“Yasha?” She tapped her knuckles on the doorframe. Sitting up, and dimly framed in moonlight, Yasha’s mighty silhouette turned.

Maybe she’d always known the answer.

“Beauregard. Hello. Is it time for bed?”

“No, uh…no, probably not for a while.” She rubbed the back of her neck. “I think Jes is showing off her mom’s jewelry. Fjord tagged along—it’s probably to be polite, but also to make sure Molly won’t steal anything. They’ll be at that for an hour at best.”

“It is good for Fjord to be careful,” Yasha nodded. “Though I am more worried about your souls being stolen than jewelry.”

“Yeah, uh, that thought also crossed my mind.” She made her way inside. “I mean, I’m mostly…not worried at all, but—wait, should I be worried? Do you think that’ll happen?”

Yasha thought about it. “He already knows your names, which is…not great. But as long as you do not make any promises, I think you should be fine. Do not shake his hand. No matter what he says.”

“Really? Like…metaphorically?”

“Either. Both. Deals are bad.”

Beau sat down on the wooden dresser beside Yasha’s makeshift cot. Even at this angle, Yasha was still taller.

“You’ve said stuff like that before,” she remembered. “You told me that ‘your kind’ had been corrupted that way. Right? Because they dealt with us?”

“Sort of. There is less blame on you, it is…just that mortal souls are powerful.” Yasha ran her fingers through her hair. “Basically…the short version is that there are pieces of light that exist inside you, light from the very essence of our world. It fuels us, and it keeps us alive, but too much and it can drive us mad. We lose sight of everything else in pursuit of more and more and…more of that light.”

Beau let her words sink in. “Yikes.”

“Yes. That is why we have so many rules. Why demons are dangerous. Why I am risking so much by staying here.”

Beau tilted her head. “Do you feel mad?”

Yasha didn’t answer right away. And then Beau steeled herself, she said—

“Your, uh, wings—"

Yasha went still.

It would not have been hard to miss. But Beau had spent so much time together with her in the last few days that when her breathing stopped, her shoulders stiffened, her eyes affixed to the sheets—

“Shit, I-I’m sor—"

“You know what is happening then?”

Yasha’s voice was a quaver. Beau paused.

“I…really don’t know a lot about angel stuff,” she said slowly, “but I do remember what I…saw. And I know that it isn’t the same as what I saw the night you landed. And then…I started thinking about how panicked you were about ‘interfering,’ and…well.”

She avoided Yasha’s gaze. “It’s my fault, isn’t it? It’s because I convinced you to stay with me—with us. Instead of just letting you go.”

The silence lingered on. Beau bunched up the edge of her shirt and waited, dreading, the answer—

“…I don’t know.”

Her head shot up.

“You…what?”

“I, ah.” Yasha’s shoulders drooped. “I really do not know. Nothing like this has ever happened before. On the one hand, in all my visits to Earth, this is the first time that I ever talked to mortals. But…at the same time, I—I don’t actually think I’ve done anything to…to justify a fall.”

Beau opened her mouth. She closed it again.

“So…huh. Then that’s—you really don’t know.”

“No,” Yasha sighed. “Although, you should know that I do not think you could blame yourself in any case. I would not have stayed if a part of me did not want to, Beauregard.”

Beau actively worked to shut down her facial features. Her reply, a pitched, “Oh.”

“One thing is definitely certain, though,” huffed Yasha, unaware of the battle raging in Beau’s mind. “The longer that I remain on Earth, the…the worse things could become. My wings are not…all that good, but…I still have them. That means I am still an angel. That…I am still an angel.”

Beau nodded, and managed to re-focus. “Then…then I bet it’s alright,” she said. “I mean, you aren’t out of time. And you know how stubborn we all are, there’s no way we’ll give up now. We’ll make sure you find your way home. You’re one of us now, Yash, we’d do anything for you.”

Yasha’s mouth twitched. “Thank you, Beauregard.” It was a smile. “For everything. Really. I…can never express to you how grateful I am. How lucky I was to land in front of you.”

Beau’s eyes flew wide, and Yasha backpedaled. “I just mean—no—well, no, not no—I didn’t—that was—that is—all of you. Everyone. You and your friends. Are good people. I…thank you.”

“Well, hey,” Beau’s arm shifted as if to almost reach out, and then she thought better of it. “My friends are your friends too,” she said, quite awkwardly, instead. “You’re one of us. And we’re friends. We’re…all friend, here.”

“Right, er, right,” managed Yasha; it was getting hot in their room. “Yes. Exactly. We are friends. Uh—"

In a fit of absolute panic, she stuck out her hand. Amazingly, Beau took it.

Their hands shook. Neither of them looked.

“Th-thank you,” said Yasha, when they finally broke away. “Besides, um…you know, I’m not leaving yet. I still don’t’ know where I’m going. There’s also the, uh, the—Mollymauk. I do not want to fly him across the world with me.”

“Right,” said Beau. “Yeah, that’s…we…we’re all kind of following your lead on that one.” Then she hesitated, and when Yasha blinked back in confusion, Beau suddenly inhaled so sharply it almost hurt.

“Look, uh, look, there’s something I gotta say from a while ago—it was a, well, a—Yasha, I owe you an apology.”

A beat.

Yasha stared at her. “Me?”

“It’s…really dumb,” Beau blurted out. “Not that—no, not that—you weren’t dumb, I was, I did—I lied to you. Back then.”

If anything, she looked even more perplexed.

“You…did?”

“Sort of,” her eyes fell to the mattress. “I, uh…when you told me about auras, that one time, I…freaked out and told you a lie. I, uh…I don’t know if you’ve noticed at all, but I kind of like being…mysterious. God, no, not mysterious, it’s just…look, I was feeling conflicted about some stuff. Stuff that I wasn’t…ready to share. So when you told me that you could see my aura, I panicked. I told you it was shitty of you to do that, which…that was really shitty of me.”

“Oh,” said Yasha. “Is that…then, does that mean humans are okay with me reading them?”

“I’m pretty sure humans aren’t aware of it enough to actually have an opinion. The point is,” she sighed, “I lied to you. You had way more reason than I did to be confused, and upset, and…and just unsure. But when you reached out to, like, understand me, I pushed you away. I…don’t ever want to do that.”

She risked a glance up. “I’m sorry.”

And then, to her shock, Yasha nodded.

“It’s okay.”

Beau blinked. “It…is?”

“Er…yes,” said Yasha. “I think it is. You were just being protective of yourself. That is alright. Especially if you…were not ready to share things. And you did not mean to hurt me, yes?”

“Did I hurt you?”

Yasha considered this. “To be honest, um, no. You didn’t, not really. And if you did, then I forgot about it when Caleb told me I was missing 6,000 years of my memory.”

“Oh.”

“Yes. Er…is that ‘yikes’?”

Maybe it was the relief, the sheer drop from such panic, or maybe it was the way Yasha’s eyebrows were bunching, but Beauregard could not keep herself from bursting out into laughter.

Yasha looked startled at first, but she recovered when Beau gave her a grin.

“You know what? I think it is time for bed.”

“What? Oh,” Yasha still looked puzzled, but she nodded. “Oh, er…sure. Yes. No problem.”

— — —

There was just one problem.

Jester groaned, pressing her face into her pillow. “I take it back. I take it all back. This is the worst thing in the world and we should call that circus right now.”

“Can’t,” muttered Nott. “Don’t have their numbers.”

“Maybe we can put up posters,” Beau suggested. “Let the evil bikers know where he is. They can have him.”

There was a rustle in the darkness. “Yasha,” said Nott, “are all demons like this?”

Another rustle followed. “Er…I have heard that the most fearsome demons plague their victims with visions of hellfire and ruin. But I think there are many ways to torment people.”

“Where the does not shutting up come in on that list?”

Yasha also had a pillow on her head. “The very top, I think.”

From the other side of the all-too-thin wall, a flood of music poured through. Fjord had made the crucial mistake of telling Molly to “make yourself at home,” and since Molly’s only home had been a crowded RV full of mostly-drunk carnies plunging down the highways of America at midnight, he’d said it was impossible for him to sleep without some “background noise.”

“Oh, sure,” Fjord had said. “Background noise should be fine.”

“He’s a guest,” sighed Jester. “We basically kidnapped him. I felt bad, and I didn’t think…I didn’t think he’d be like this.”

“Maybe someone will come to our rescue,” said Beau. “Maybe Caleb will finally snap and kill him.”

“Oh, if anyone would do it, it would be Caleb,” Nott agreed. “Fjord’s too weak. Or…maybe Cad, the quiet ones are always murderers.”

“It wouldn’t be murder,” Beau called sleepily. “It would be a civic duty.”

“Maybe we can plug our ears.” Yasha rolled over to look at the other girls. “Do any of you have some beeswax?”

The deep pause that followed would have been silence if not for the blaring—let’s have a party there’s a full moon in the sky, it’s the hour of the—

“I wanna die,” said Nott. “If he doesn’t, I will.”

“I can try to find some bees if I must,” Yasha pressed. “I feel guilty. I am the one who dragged him into your lives—"

She jumped when something brushed the side of her leg.

“We don’t need bees,” said Beau, who was slapping around the edge of her mattress, totally blind. “Here, I’ve got extra. Everyone, come get some. Earplugs. They’re not enough, but…helps.”

Yasha recovered quickly, reaching over to accept the little pieces of orange foam. There was some general shuffling and muted “thank yous” as Nott and Jester acquired pairs as well.

“Nice,” said Beau, rolling over on the floor. “Adds a pop to your monochrome.”

Yasha couldn’t tell whether that was addressed to her. But when it seemed clear that Beau had just passed out again, she carefully pressed the earplugs in. Then she sat there a moment longer, staring at her leg, surrounded by the muted blare of a hundred trumpets.

Off in the distance and dulled, Nott said, “I’m gonna go threaten to cut his head off.”

— — —

And then, eventually, there was quiet.

— — —

See:

Not…not a storm at all. Not even a lingering cloud.

Instead, there is just the blue and endless sky.

Somewhere, she is…lying down. The sun is warm. She is…somewhere. She is somewhere where a field of green-turning-gold-turning-russet wild grasses ripple slow.

There’s a gentle brush against her leg. She looks down. It’s a little white flower.

It’s…it’s being held in…someone’s hand.

Her head jerks up.

“Wait, who are y—"

— — —

Her eyes focused on a face.

“Huh?” said Beauregard. “Was that for me?”

Yasha sat up so quickly that Beau had to jump backwards. “Whoa, there—"

Yasha ignored this, whipped her head around, took in two unmade bunks, a mess of blankets, golden sunlight—

The curtains by the window rippled slow.

“I…but…”

“Yasha?” Beau frowned. “Hey, Yash, is everything okay?”

“But I…there was…” Her hands dug into the sides of her face as she squeezed her eyes shut. “There was…a field,” she bit out. “Grass. Under the sky, and a flower, and a p—"

She froze.

“Uh…Yasha?”

A…person. There had been a person. Someone—but who? It was someone…important…

And then the thought—no one can know.

“N-nothing,” Yasha blurted, though she didn’t quite know why. “It was…it was nothing. Er…but there might be something more I have for Caleb to work with.”

Beau’s concerned expression vanished. “Oh, what? Oh—hey, that’s awesome!” She closed the distance, even went to clap Yasha on the back. “That’s great! He’s gonna be totally thrilled! And that’s one step closer to you getting to…go. Oh.”

They both fell silent. Through the door, the clattering sounds of the rest setting a table.

Beau’s hand fell back to her side.

“Of course, we always knew you were gonna leave at some point. And…you know, you were ready to bolt, like, two days ago, so it stands to reason that you…should be happy to leave…”

Yasha looked up at Beauregard.

A person. Someone important…

“Beau, um…Beau, I think I—"

The door burst open. Nott shoved her head in, eyebrows raised.

“God, what’s taking you two so long? Cad made pancakes! C’mon, we’re waiting!”

— — —

A thick slab of blueberry-laden goodness landed in the center of Yasha’s plate. A sweet, buttery, slightly tart aroma wafted through the kitchen.

“So, I think I still have a bit more catching-up to do, don’t I?” said Molly, who was sitting in a chair with a slouch so bad it looked like his spine was broken. “For one, it seems like I’ve missed the book club meeting that made you all friends.”

“We met in college,” said Fjord, rubbing his eyes. “Not a book club.”

“Same difference,” Molly shrugged. “It’s just that I can’t help but feel a tad bit excluded from your pre-existing lovefest.”

“It would be easier to include you if you knew how to be quiet sometimes,” Nott grumbled.

He stuck his tongue out, and it was stained with blueberry.

“I think we are overdue for a proper meeting anyway,” said Caleb, spearing his pancake. “A lot has changed in the last twenty-four hours. We should review our goals and priorities.”

“Get home,” said Yasha. “Do that by finding ȣɿɕƺᶋɷ.”

“What the hell,” said Molly.

“Later,” Caleb sighed. “Right, okay, that’s item one on our list, our continuing mission to find Iothia. And once we do…?”

Yasha shuffled. It was quick, almost missed, but she glanced at Beau.

“Er…then I…leave,” she said. “I fly there, and I can return home.”

“Aw, really?” Jester pouted. “You’re really just going to leave right away?”

If anything, Yasha’s next expression was even more complicated. She fidgeted again. “I, er, sort of…sort of have to. As…quickly as possible, I think.”

“Man, that sucks.”

Yasha managed a tiny smile. “I know.”

“But you can’t go until you’ve taught me repression,” Molly said, quickly waving his fork for attention. “I need to get back to my circus, my dear. And I can’t do that safely until I learn to hide.”

“Which means you’ll be sticking around a little longer, Yasha.” Caduceus down the plate of pancakes and took a seat. “Isn’t that nice?”

“And you’ll be hanging out with me,” Molly grinned. “I expect we’ll get to know each other very well.”

A loud thump shook the table and everyone’s heads suddenly turned to Beauregard.

She blinked. Then she looked down.

“Shit, uh…sorry. I think I missed my plate.”

“Jesus christ,” said Fjord. “That’s an inch into solid wood.”

Beau gripped the handle of the knife she’d sunk into the table. On the second try, she managed to yank it free.

“Sorry, uh…sorry again,” she said. “Jes, your mom can bill my dad.”

“Are both of you rich girls?” Molly asked.

“It doesn’t matter,” she shot him a deep scowl. “You just worry about…about learning to shut up your aura, or whatever. Then Yasha can get on with stuff that’s actually important, and you can finally leave us all alone.”

“My, my, someone’s touchy, isn’t she?” Molly folded his hands over his lap. “Anger issues are bad for your health.”

“You know what else is bad for my health, asshole? Not being able to fucking sleep ‘cause someone needs a rock concert every night—"

“Okay, okay, okay,” said Fjord, holding his hands up so fast he almost knocked over the milk. “Alright, I think that’s enough, you two. Molly found headphones eventually, right? And now he knows better.”

“What am I, a child—"

“And we’ve got to be a little more understanding of a man who’s just had their whole life turned around. It’s not every day we find out we’re not even human.”

“Not a man either,” Molly added.

“Ah, sorry—"

“It’s alright, dear.” He sighed. Then, with a swoop of what could only be described as exaggerated magnanimity, he turned to Beauregard.

“Truce? Not surrender, just armistice.”

She rolled her eyes, but did concede. “Yeah, whatever.”

“Back to the matter at hand, then,” said Caleb, as that piece of breakfast theater concluded. “Yasha. Even though your sense memory from last night was…for lack of a better term, undescriptive, it gave me the idea that we could perhaps try to use images of natural places to trigger more. Jester’s mother has a number of picture atlases in the study, after all. Perhaps we could start there today.”

Yasha lowered her fork. “Actually…while I was asleep, I remembered something more.”

This was followed by a chorus of clattering and hurried exclamations, the loudest being Nott’s, “What, really?!”

“Er…yes, but it was very small,” Yasha said. “I…remembered lying down. In a field of golden grass. And, um…there was a flower. It was, um, white.”

“Is that all?” Caleb said after a while.

She hesitated.

Then, “Yes.”

“Well, that’s not too bad,” said Caduceus. “It might even be a great, actually. Most flowers only grow in specific climates anyway, and if we’re lucky, it might only be native to a certain area.”

“Ooooh, oh! What did it look like?” Jester asked. Then her eyes lit up. “Oh—Yasha, you should draw it!”

She jumped out of her chair and was running back from the living room with her sketchbook before they even processed this.

“And you’re getting so much better at art too,” she squealed, “this’ll be great practice—"

“Jester, are you sure—"

She pushed Yasha’s plate aside and handed her a pencil triumphantly. “Close your eyes! Picture it! Then draw!”

Even Caleb seemed reluctant to argue with Jester. He shrugged and said, “But also please describe it to us, please.”

Yasha put her fork down. She took the pencil.

“I’m really not good,” she said, weakly, but she did her best to envision the flower. “Okay, um, it was small…very small, and it had seven little points like this…”

A moment later, everyone leaned in to see the drawing.

“Aw, it’s so pretty!” Jester beamed. “Good job!”

“Ah—thank you.”

“Any idea what it is?” Fjord glanced at Caduceus. “Have you seen this before?”

Cad scratched his chin. “I can’t say I have, but…it shouldn’t be that hard to find. You said it’s white?”

“And small,” Yasha added. “As big as someone’s—someone’s fingernail.”

“My momma has tons of books on flowers,” Jester supplied. “Maybe those can help?”

“I’m sure they will. And Caduceus is right,” Caleb added, “this is an excellent jumping-off point. If we have this drawing too, Yasha, I can take over from here. That will give you time to help train our newest...divine associate.”

“You don’t have to lay on the flattery that thick,” Molly smiled. “Though I appreciate the compliment.”

“I meant that literally.”

“Why, thank you—"

“I can help you too.” Beau was determined to silence Mollymauk quickly. “Again, it’s not like I’m doing much anyway. At least this time there’ll be pictures, right?”

“Are you sure?” Yasha leaned backwards. “If you don’t want to—"

“No, no, really. I’ve told you, Yash, and I’ll say it again, I really don’t mind any of this. I want to do this. And you can’t stop me.”

Yasha met her gaze, then nodded. “Okay. Thank you.”

“Exactly,” said Beau, and raised her chin in a display of satisfaction. Then she hesitated, turned towards the rest. “But if the rest of you don’t feel like helping, I mean…I’m a deadbeat, but Fjord, you’re supposed to be reading for a summer class. And Nott, you’ve got stuff for your job, right? And Jes—"

“How about we clear up the living room and do what we need to do together?” Fjord asked. “Solidarity. It’ll be like…like study hall!”

“I’m game!” said Nott. “As much as it sucks, I should probably get on that.”

“Me too,” Jester clapped her hands. “It’s not as fun as fishing or introducing Yasha to fries, but studying won’t be so bad if we’re all together!”

Molly stared at her incredulously. “Are you—really?” He turned to the rest, aghast. “You’re all really going to sit down and do…do work? Willingly? Nevermind, this is much worse than a book club.”

He leaned over and nudged Yasha in the shoulder. “My goodness, aren’t we lucky to be divine? I’d rather do anything than, ugh, read.”

—

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