#implied/referenced child abuse

[aurae-rori]

after pain : aventio fic

— #aventio #ratiorine fic

— poetic narrative

— relationship/character analysis

— fluffy and comfy :)

— technically wrote this awhile back lmao

— 2.3k words https://archiveofourown.org/works/54107008

[wangxianficrecs]

a thousand fragile and unprovable things by theLoyalRoyalGuard

a thousand fragile and unprovable things

by theLoyalRoyalGuard

G, 5k, Wangxian & Mo Xuanyu

Summary: It’s a sunny Thursday when Mo Xuanyu runs away from the latest crappy foster home. He’s fifteen and he’s done. Until the day he tries to pickpocket the man in the powder blue suit. Or Mo Xuanyu gets tired of foster homes and ends up with Wangxian instead. Kay's comments: Inspired by emergent properties by luckymarrow which I have recced and loved as well. Really loved this story of Mo Xuanyu stumbling into Wangxian's life and them searching for the best way forward for him and giving him all the love and support he needs and deserves. I wish they were my parents too. Bonus feature: adorable A-Yuan. Excerpt: Lan Wangji frowns at him, thoughtful, a tiny crease between his brows. “This isn’t technically proper,” he says, slow and deliberate, “but you could come with me.” Mo Xuanyu gives him a sidelong look, weighing possible dangers. The guy doesn’t seem like a predator, but then, they usually don’t. On the other hand… he doesn’t have a lot of better options . “I, uh, I have some friends I can crash with…” the lies stick in his mouth. It’s so obvious Lan Wangji isn’t buying a word. “The friends who got you arrested for robbery and aggravated assault?” He lifts one eyebrow just the tiniest bit, and Mo Xuanyu wilts. Lan Wangji checks his watch. “My husband should be awake by now,” he says, in that careful, deliberate way like every word is calculated to matter. He doesn’t waste them. “He's making baozi.” Mo Xuanyu’s stomach rumbles. He hasn’t had real baozi in… well, since he was a kid. Despite himself, the picture in Lan Wangji’s wallet rises in his mind, the smiling man and the toddler.

pov mo xuanyu, modern setting, modern no powers, lawyer lan wangji, trans mo xuanyu, married lan wangji/wei wuxian, adopted lan sizhui, foster care, implied/referenced child abuse, homelessness, angst with a happy ending, families of choice

~*~

(Please REBLOG as a signal boost for this hard-working author if you like – or think others might like – this story.)

[romanarose]

He Didn't Have to Be

Will Miller x Single Mom!reader

Summary: You and Will hit it off immediately, but being a single mom but a past, you didn't think that he'd be interested in you. You were wrong, and Will asks you on the sweetest date you could imagine.

A/N: Will Miller brain rot is so real rn. Titled after the Brad Paisley song, bc it's what inspired this fic.

Warnings: Referenced past abuse, referenced past child abuse

*******************

Many guys ran for the hills at the idea of a woman with a kid. Some only wanted you for sex, insisting you get a babysitter or god forbid leave your son at home, insisting “it’s only for an hour” even though he was four. Some gave it a shot, only to get angry when they realized Jonah came first. It’s not that you didn’t try to make time for dates, but you had a young child, and you wanted to make the best of his childhood. They didn’t get why you were busy working on letters and numbers with him, asking “isn’t that what his preschool is for?” or why you spent time trying to plan and cook nutritious food on a budget, or why you wouldn't just drop him off with your sister to fuck or why they couldn't come over when he was napping.

So, you simply gave up dating, figuring the right guy would come along at some point, when the time better.

And the right guy did.

You were lucky enough to land a job as a receptionist at a physical therapy office, your friend’s husband, Frankie being kind enough to send the job your way when his friend said they were hiring. You were waitressing at this point and although you were getting by, it was just barely, living in a studio apartment with you and Jonah (another reason dating didn’t work) was hard. This job would offer not only financial security, but a better schedule, with Jonah at the free preschool during most of the day so this meant paying for only two or three hours at daycare after. The handsome physical therapist was a perk too.

Will Miller was one of four physical therapists in the office, but by far your favorite. He always said hello and goodbye to you every single morning and evening, and even when you first started he was making easy chit chat. The small talk turned into full conversations, Will often being found leaning over your counter, strong arms blunging out of the sleeves of his black t-shirt as you tried not to stare. It wasn’t that hard; his blue eyes were compelling enough to keep your interest. You familiarized yourself with the features of his face while he talked, and one of the other workers comments how they'd never seen Will so talkative. When you asked what they meant, they said that Will was always polite, nice but never very open. She didn’t even know he had a brother until she heard him mention Ben to you, and she’d known Will a year. It made you happy to know he felt comfortable with you like that. It took you an embarrassingly long amount of time to figure out that he was the friend Frankie knew, the one that had mentioned the job opening, but once you did, you grew closer sharing stories of Frankie and Jessica drunk.

He also let you talk about your son, which was exciting. People don’t really care a lot about a kid that isn’t their family besides a few pictures, but you mentioned a cute video, and Will actually asked to see it, endearing you to him more and more. Still, you didn’t get your hopes up. Your last relationship, Jonah’s father, messed you up pretty bad, and you were certain someone like Will wouldn’t want someone like you. Will was successful, put together, tall, handsome and charming with a very well paying job. Why would he want to take a single mom living in a shitty studio apartment with a ton of baggage? He could get any woman he wanted, not some woman he probably thought just wanted him for his money.

When he approached you that Friday as you were packing up for the weekend, he seemed oddly stiff, not leaning casually over your counter like the Jim to your Pam. Instead he stood awkwardly, hands clasped behind his back as if he was reverting back to his military days and you were his drill sargent.

 He greeted you by name, and promptly began stuttering, the composed, cool headed man you knew seemed long gone. “I was, um, well I was wondering if maybe you were doing anything this weekend? If you-you wanted to do something with me, maybe? I understand if you’re busy, it’s completely okay theres no pressure or anything, it won't have any effect on your working relationship but if you wanted too-”

“Will?”

“Hm?” His pail English skin turned pink.

“Are you asking me on a date?” 

The blush grew, but he nodded. “Yeah, if you’d like that, of course. No pressure at all, we can continue being friends either way.” The way he repeated ‘no pressure’ made your heart warm.

You smiled at him, equally nervous. The idea of going on a date for the first time in a year was nerve wracking, there was a solid chance of getting your heart broken… but he was so fucking handsome, how could you say no? “Yeah, yeah that would be great.” You laugh nervously. “I’m open all weekend, I just gotta see when I can get a babysitter.”

“Actually, I was thinking, and we don’t have to, it’s completely up to you-”

He’s so cute when he’s nervous, isn’t he? “Yes, Will?” You encourage him on.

“I thought maybe Jonah could come with us? I know maybe you don’t want to bring a strange man you don’t know around your son, but if you wanted to, I’d like to take Jonah to Chuck E. Cheese?”

You were stunned. No man has ever cared to meet Jonah, let alone spend time with him like that. 

“You want to go to Chuck E. Cheese for a first date?” You ask softly.

He seemed to get the wrong idea, and began to backtrack. “Right, not very romantic is it, sorry, I’d love to take you somewhere nice, I just thought it would be easier and I’d want to get to know Jonah because he’s a part of you-”

“I’d love that” You smile up at him. “Are you sure? It’s kinda an expensive first date?” You didn’t want him to invest a bunch of money on a date when you already knew you wouldn’t be sleeping together that day.

Will seemed to relax, smiling at the idea of the date. He shook his head. “I want to.  Besides, it’ll be fun. I haven't played ski ball in years, when else do I get a chance to be a kid?”

You could not wait to see what the 6’2 giant of a man looked like pretending to be a kid.

Will offered to pick you up but said if you prefer to meet there, that was okay too. Normally, you’d meet there, you didn’t like random men knowing your address, but Will… Will was different. The way Will was cognizant of your comfort made you just trust him. You still would be careful, of course, after what happened with Jonah’s dad you were protective of your precious preschooler. Jonah was ecstatic when you picked him up and told him you’d be going to Chuck E. Cheese for dinner. You explained he’d be meeting a friend of moms, keeping it vague, but it seemed very much uninterested in that aspect as the idea of the arcade filled his adorable little head. You kept it simple, a nice romper that would be acceptable to play in but looked cute on you, at least you thought so. You didn’t give your apartment number, for safety reasons but also you were a bit embarrassed at your small studio. You hoped soon to get a one bedroom with this nice new job, but wanted to have a good savings in case of emergencies. Jonah was small enough now that it was okay, it was working, but you wanted him to have some space of his own in a few years. Still, you did the best you could.

Will was waiting outside the apartment complex door, his eyes lighting up when he saw you.

“Hi. You look great.” He said with a genuine smile that you returned. Will wore a blue shirt and black pants, fitting the casual but pleasant outfit you had gone for, the blue bringing out his eyes. You were disappointed he didn't greet you with a kiss on the cheek or a hug, but he seemed nervous, so you didn’t think much of it at first. Will bent down, crouching to get to Jonah’s level. “Hey little guy, you must be Jonah.”

“Yeah, I’m this many” He held up four fingers. 

You held up all five “Honey, you’re this many”

“Oh” he giggled. “Yeah” He was embarrassed to have gotten his age wrong. “Sowwy”

You turn to Will, about to explain that Jonah just had a birthday, but Will was way ahead of you. 

“That’s okay, you had a birthday week, right? Mine was last month too and I still forget.”

Not only was he good with Jonah, but he even remembered his birthday. You began to let yourself get more and more attached to William Miller.

It was fun to see Will let loose. Not that he was tightly wound at work by any means, but he was professional. This was a side of him you could easily fall in love with.

You had tried to pay for the tokens for the arcade games, insisting that Will could pay for the food like he would for a normal date, and you’d cover the part for your son, but he wouldn’t let you. It wasn’t in a ‘I have more money than you’ way, but in a way that was just the kindness of his big, soft heart. And he got along great with Jonah, that was clear, and something very important to you. He asked you before picking Jonah up and putting him on a ride when Jonah begged him for help, gave him high fives and encouraged him when he didn’t get something on a game. He was everything you could ask for. He must've been a good big brother, you just knew it.

You and him were already past the small talk point, so there was no ‘tell me about yourself’, but conversation flowed easily, with you laughing and giggling along to his stories of his brother, remarking that Jonah reminded him a lot of when Ben was little. Still, he didn’t kiss you, was hesitant to touch you, and you began to worry that maybe he didn’t enjoy your company outside of work as much as maybe he thought he would. Still, it was a fun evening and you loved spending time with Will.

When the pizza came, Will noticed they forgot to bring the breadsticks. “I’ll go grab them, be right back.”

“Thank you” You smiled at him, and pulled out the wipes for Jonah’s hands and cleaned him off front he germs before turning to the table to plate up pizza for everyone. 

When you turn back, Jonah was gone. You tried not to panic. “Jonah?” You couldn’t see him anywhere. “Jonah!” Now you’re shouting, and in a flash Will is by your side, settling the garlic bread down. 

You don’t even have to explain what happened when he has a plan. “I’ll check the front, he can’t leave without one of us so he’s in here. I’ll talk to the employees, you just start searching, he’ll come to your voice easier than mine.”

You’re tearing up, looking around for your baby, trying too hard not to go into a pancik. “I swear, I turned around for just a second, and, and, and he-he”

Will grabbed you shoulders, forcing you to look up at him. He was calm, assured, clear headed in an emergency and that transferred to you. “I know, it’s gonna be okay, just go look for him and I’ll start getting a parameter.” Military man indeed. 

You nod, trusting Will to make things right, help you find him. You, Will and Jonah had numbers stamped onto your hand from the employee at the front, so you knew he couldn’t leave without you or Will, but you didn’t want him alone with all these strange people. You begin looking calling out to him and you could see Will talking to and directing the employees and a few concerned parents who volunteered to help, instructing them to clear different areas and guard them, slowly narrowing down a ‘parameter’ just as he said while you looked for him.

You were trying to keep calm, but 1000 worst case scenarios ran through your head. You needed to be strong for him.

You hear your name called from the indoor play structure and you look up to see Will and Jonah in a clear plastic bubble waving to you. Jonah was safe, Will found him, even going up in a play structure you knew he could barely fit in to do it. You began to cry, so fucking relieved to see your baby, and informed the worker that everything was okay. Will slid down the large slide (how he didn’t get struck, you didn’t know. The man was broad as hell.) and when he and your son popped out the other end, Jonah was apparently none the wiser of how much stress he put you through. You tearfully talk to him about not wondering off, then take him back to get food. The rest of the evening went wonderfully, and you didn’t take your eyes off Jonah the rest of the night. 

You watch Jonah dance and sing with the Chucky mascot when it came out, the ugly thing handing out tickets to the kids. You turn to Will. "Ever played 5 Nights at Freddy's?"

The giant of a man burst into boisterous laughing, the sound ringing out and filling your heart with so much joy. "I didn't wanna be the one to say it!" He heaves over from laughing so hard. "freaking fuck'n rat, used to scare the shit outta my brother as a child, I tried to fight it once because it made Ben cry"

You couldn't imagine the polite, composed man fighting a giant rat, but given how he talked about his brother, you knew he was defensive. "Oh? And what happened?"

"Turns out Chuck will put you on your ass when you kick him in the crotch."

When Will pulled into the parking lot, Jonah was fast sleep in his booster seat and you unbuckle him, turning to Will. It was the end of the date, and you knew what he might be expecting. “Listen, I had a wonderful time, and I’d like to go out again, but I can’t… I can’t exactly invite you to stay over.”

Will was quick to assure you he had no expectations, but you continue to clarify; you didn't want him to think you didn't want him. “It’s embarrassing, but we live in a studio apartment right now.”

“A studio isn’t embarrassing, trust me, I’ve slept in some interesting places and I don’t expect anything on the first date. And I especially wouldn’t expect a mom to invite me to stay the night where her kid lives this early on.”

You, however, weren’t ready for the evening to end. It was still early. “Listen, Jonah is out cold” After running around all day and eating a ton of pizza, he was in a food coma. “I have a balcony. I would love it if you came up and had a drink.”

Will lit up, teeth showing just a bit as he smiled. “I’d love to, if you’re comfortable.”

Will helped hold Jonah while you attempted to brush his little teeth and politely excused himself to the balcony while you changed him into his pj’s. Will didn’t seem put off at all by the Baby Yoda toddler bed between your twin mattress and the small kitchen table.

When you came outside, Will was sitting on one of the cheap lawn chairs. You brought out a throw blanket and two mugs of hot chocolate with just a splash of Bailey’s Irish Cream and pulled the second lawn chair up next to him. Gathered under one blanket, you were thrilled to spend some alone time. You adored your son, and you adored how Will wanted to all be together, but it was nice to be with Will away from work, just you and him. 

“Can I hold your hand?” Will asks sweetly, his soft, bearded face welcoming you in. 

Like a silly teenager, you blush at the innocence. “Yeah” He takes your hand and you feel so connected, so safe, so secure in his firm but comforting grip. “I was wondering when you’d make a move.” You gently tease, and you see Will blush as he smiles and glances away. “For the record, I wanted to make a move earlier, but I didn’t know what was appropriate with Jonah around. Didn’t wanna confuse him or noth’n.”

The way he always thought about you and Jonah first… it never failed to make your heart sore.

You rest your head on Will’s shoulder, and he wrapped an arm around you, making you feel more warm than the blanket ever could.

“Thank you for today, William.” You whisper.

“I had a great time, honey. I hope I can take you out again sometime.”

“I’d love that.” You look up at him, the moonlight illuminating his skin oh-so beautifully. “And thank you for going into action so fast when Jonah was missing.”

“Of course. Jonah is important to you, so he’s important to me. Plus, any kid that goes missing needs immediate action.”

That’s what you loved about Will. He didn’t just do it because it was Jonah, you know damn well he’d do the same for a stranger’s kid if needed. 

“How come you wanted to go out with Jonah too? I’ve never had a guy do that after a few dates, nonetheless the first one.”

He held you closer. “Well, I don’t wanna be presumptuous, but I don’t date casually, and it seems you don’t either… if we are gonna be together long term or even…” he trailed off, but you knew what he was about to say. “Well, I’d wanna be a family. Not that I’m tryna replace his dad!” Will quickly adds.

“Jonah’s dad isn't allowed near him.” You say. When Will doesn’t respond, merely nods, you knew he was keeping the conversation to talk more if you wanted to, so you continued. “He was an asshole. Roughed me up a bit.” A bit was putting nicely, but it was a bit early for pouring your heart out.

You could feel his grip tighten ever so slightly on your shoulder as he took a deep breath. “I’m sorry”

“It’s okay” You said softly. It’d been a few years since you’d left. “I put up with a lot, but when he hit Jonah, that was it. I left right after that, spent a few months in a shelter, now we're here.”

“Bastard.” He mumbled under his breath, and you knew his anger for you and your boy was genuine. 

“I have a restraining order against him, so he’s not in the picture. I wish Jonah had his dad, but I won’t let him get hurt again.”

“I know, you’re a good mom.” Will assures you, “He’s a happy kid.”

You can’t help but smile at that. “I wish I could give him more… but I’m trying.”

“Hey now” his voice was soft and comforting, his hand gently, so gently guiding you to look at him. “He’s happy, he’s got food, a bed, lots of toys and I saw the worksheets you got laid out, I know you’re working hard on his learn’n. He’s a good kid, says please and thank you, you've given him a good life, princess.” 

“Thank you, Will. I appreciate that. Are you doing anything Sunday morning? I’d love to cook you lunch.” 

When Will left that evening, he waited at your doorway, holding both hands, looking nervous again. “I’d like to kiss you, if that’s okay.”

They he always asked you, leaving so much room to say no. When he asked you on the date in the first place he was adamant about making sure you felt no obligation even though he was technically your superior, to something as innocent and pure as hold your hand… you knew he was different from Jonah’s dad, he was so, so much better. Was it possible to fall in love this fast?

Still holding his hand, as he nervously looked down at you awaiting an answer, you went up on you tippy toes, planting a loving, chaste kiss on his pink lips. He kissed you back, lips moving against yours before he pulled away. “I’ll see you both Sunday?” 

Both.

“Yeah, Sunday” You hugged him goodbye, resting your head on Will’s firm, strong chest. You didn’t want him to leave, but you knew now was not the time for him to stay over. You’d move slowly, you and Will, going at a pace comfortable for both of you until you were ready. Something felt right, so damn right about him.

Yeah, you’d take things slowly, but something in your gut told you… Will would be a part of your little family.

********************

This got me pretty good ngl ;-; my baby fever is so high these days lolololol

If you'd like to see a part two, lmk! I'm happy to write more drabbles with this. Not like, a series bc I don't have a full story plan but a few one shots.

I love Will so much and it makes me sad he doesn't get much attention in this fandom :(

(Dolli that princess was especially for you. I feel like Will is a 'princess' kinda man, but wouldn't use it right away. but when he felt comfortable enough....)

also funfact i usd to work at chuck e. cheese and yes i was the giant rat. Yes I have gotten tackled to the floor and yes i did want to punt some kids but didnt. flipped off some teenagers though.

tagging a few people who might be interested/expressed interest in the discord server.

@missdictatorme @my-secret-shame-but-fanfiction @campingwiththecharmings @ahookedheroespureheart @jake-g-lockley @littlenosoul @welcometostayingawake @miraclesabound

[the-24-7-lawlu-library]

Thank you @deadnamedblog for this getting-together canon rec.

How Does Your Garden Grow? by betsib (M)

The World Government has fallen, Luffy is the King of Pirates and Law is laying low, waiting to see how the situation will change. He comes across two orphaned children and decides to help them out and temporarily take care of them until he can find an orphanage or someone to take them in. It turns out to be much more difficult than he expected. “The world is full of orphans. That’s not your fault,” Penguin pointed out. “Maybe not,” Law said. “But he looks like me.” Penguin blinked. “The boy? He looks nothing like you.” “You didn’t know me before I met Cora,” Law said, and Penguin lowered his head, conceding the point.

-Mod Raiya

[arenjix]

Baby Birds and Bat Caves

By IzzyMRDB

Complete

Summary:

Gotham was built on a cave system. Batman has referenced a Bat Cave before. Tim is currently in the cave system. He is in the cave system that he entered from Drake Manor. Drake Manor is right next door to where Batman- The Bruce Wayne- lives. Holy Cavern, Batman! Tim had just accidentally wandered into the Bat Cave’s cave system. OR Tim, having found a weird hole after a storm, decides to go exploring ignoring the fact that This Is Gotham and They Probably Have Cursed Stuff Down There. Luckily, it was just a cave system that spans the entire Gotham underground. Unluckily, Tim is a very curious child.

(Stats/Tags are under the cut)

Rating: Teen And Up Audiences

Archive Warning: No Archive Warnings Apply

Category: Gen

Fandoms: Batman - All Media Types, Batman (Comics)

Relationships: Jason Todd & Bruce Wayne, Tim Drake & Bruce Wayne, Dick Grayson & Bruce Wayne, Tim Drake & Jason Todd, Tim Drake & Dick Grayson, Stephanie Brown & Tim Drake, Stephanie Brown & Cassandra Cain & Tim Drake, Tim Drake & Edward Nygma

Characters: Tim Drake, Jason Todd, Dick Grayson, Bruce Wayne, Barbara Gordon, Original Non-Human Character(s), Alfred Pennyworth, Stephanie Brown, Cassandra Cain, Edward Nygma

Language: English

Additional Tags: Caves, Fluff, Weird Gotham City, Tim Drake-centric, BAMF Tim Drake, Kid Tim Drake, the Bat Cave, Kids are so curious, Smart Tim Drake, Tim please stop running around in gothams cave systems, Stalker Tim Drake, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, no beta we die like robin, Tiny Tim Drake, Tim Drake has the survival instincts of a wet paper bag, Crack Treated Seriously, Humor, Tim looking at the cave system under the city: you know this might as well happen, Bruce please stop him, Child Neglect, Bruce Wayne is a Good Parent, Inspired by Welcome to Night Vale, Hijinks & Shenanigans, Magic shennanigans, BAMF Stephanie Brown, BAMF Cassandra Cain, Edward Nygma Tries, Cryptid Tim Drake, Tim Drake is Crow, Tim Drake is Not Robin, Kid Fic, Stephanie Brown is Starling, Cassandra Cain is Black Bat, Cassandra Cain is Black Bird

Series: Part 1 of Gotham Caves and Reality Aberrations

Published: 2022-03-20

Completed: 2022-06-30

Words: 30,113

Chapters: 20/20

[shattered-glasswork]

WITCHES AND TEDDY BEARS:

I didn't really understand what was happening. Now that I think about it I never did.

One moment, mommy was making lunch for me and bubba, and the next she was screaming. I ran to the kitchen to see what was going on, when a plate narrowly missed my head and instead collided with the wall.

This happened sometimes, mommy would be surrounded by green fog and she wouldn't stop yelling. My bubba was huddled up in the corner, he was scared of her, and I'd never admit it but so was I...

...

I couldn't stop the tears rolling down my face, I knew it was pathetic, real Romans don't cry, but I just couldn't stop. You see it's halloween; And while you might be thinking Why are you crying on halloween it's supposed to be fun. Well it's not. I've always spent the holidays alone, everyone either thinks I'm weird, crazy or both. And you know what, they're right. I'm just Octavian, the weird teddy bear killer that even his own family doesn't want or like. Sitting alone in the first cohort after almost killing himself to stop Gaia, demoted to probato from centurion. So yeah, I think I will just sit here and cry. It's not like anyone cares where I'm at Knock Knock

I was about 8 when he left. We were playing in the backyard. Hide and seek if I remember correctly. It was my turn. I turned around and began counting 1...2...3...4 when I heard the fence rattle. At the time I'd thought nothing of it after all why would I? 18....19...20. "Ready or not, here I come!!" I exclaimed with excitement, I had loved this game as a young child, although he was always better at it. When I opened my eyes I already knew something was wrong, but I looked anyway. "Be back in time for lunch" that was the last thing mother ever said to him. After that nothing was the same again.

…

I looked up at the door quickly wiping the tears from my eyes and called out "come in", Embarrassed by how my voice quivered and broke in a few places. I knew who was at the door before they ever opened it. The smell of pine cones and dirt gave him away, my mate, Bryce Lawrence. My suspicions were only confirmed when he walked through the door dressed in a Purple tux that fanned out around the hips and with black pointed shoes and a large witches hat to top it all off. I won't lie, he looked cute.... But that's not the point. "Are you okay..." "yes." I lied effortlessly. "No you're not, I can see the tears on your face" shit I scrambled for an excuse. "But anyways, why are you here? Shouldn't you be out trick or treating" I asked him hoping that he'll leave me alone "I came to get you" I paused for a moment "wha-" is all I can manage to get out still try my hardest not to cry again.

…

I was woken up by the sound of howling. "Luke, they're here for you!" my mother called out from across the house. My name isn't Luke, but it's easier to play along. I walked down the old and creaky stairs to the front door where my mother was standing at the door, eyes clouded but not yet unseeing. At the door was Lupa, I had heard of her, the mother of Remus and Romulus, trainer of Roman demigods and now.... It's my turn.

…

"You didn't think I was going without you, Right?" I hesitated "well.... Yeah" I told him my face was still red from crying "No you're coming with me" I looked up at him with misty eyes "nobody wants me there" "I do" He stated firmly "you're coming with me babe" I started to stutter out a response. "Fine..." I reluctantly agreed despite knowing I had no choice in the matter. He smirked down at me "I have the perfect costume for you" "should I be scared?" he grinned "maybe"

…

Training was hard but I knew I would get through it. I had to get to camp Jupiter or this struggle was for nothing. My thoughts were running wild as I ate what I had caught earlier today. There were other children here, all of them bigger and older than me but I never gave up. We had to fight to earn our place in the legion and I sure wasn't going to let that pass me by

…

"Are you serious?" I mumbled while glaring up at Bryce "you think this is funny?" "maybe." He teased, reaching down to ruffle my hair. "Aww come on, you look cute!" "don't lie to me" "I'm not!" he laughed at the pissed off expression that I undoubtedly had on my face "Plus it's Ironic" I couldn't help but chuckle at that. He was right it was pretty ironic dressing up as the very thing a dismember for my job. "You look adorable as a teddy bear" "shut up" I said as I did my makeup. I Took a glance at myself in the mirror when I was done. I haven't worn makeup in a long time, shaking the thought away. I glanced down at the probato tablet hanging from my neck and tucked it into my shirt. "Are you ready?" Bryce called from the other room "Coming!" I shouted back.

…

I was on my way to camp Jupiter. It had been about a week since I left the wolf house. I was tired, dirty and beat up but my determination never faltered. Stealing had become a necessity, I didn't like it, but you do what you have to do. The only weapon I had with me was an imperial gold dagger that I got from my mothers house before I left, It had come in handy Although I hated having to use it. I'm not a fighter, bone thin, no real training or skill. Coming up with plans and strategies had always been my strong suit but I can manage a bit longer.

and we were walking down the streets of new rome, Bryce trailing a bit in front of me swinging his basket back and forth dropping candy that I happily picked up. "Let's go to that one!" The volume of his voice startled me at first until I registered his suggestion. "Sure, why not?" I looked at him and held out my hand, fully prepared to be laughed at. "Do you want to hold my hand?" he asked in a teasing manner making my cheeks heat up "u...uh no what are you t..talking about!!" I stated, embarrassed. He smirked at me and grabbed my hand making me look up at him in confusion "I thought you didn't want to?" "I never said that," he replied and we walked up to the door. "Ding Dong "Trick or treat!

"I was falling and the only thing I could think of is why? I don't remember doing anything wrong. ** It had been a month since I was put in the first cohort. I was living with my aunt who, in hindsight, never really liked me. She was always glaring or barking orders, bullying others, and demanding to be treated like a queen. It only got worse when she learned of my blessing from Apollo. "Cursed child...just like his mother...stuck with it" I would hear her mumble under her breath. "OCTAVIAN!!" she yelled from across the house. "I'm coming!" I shouted back. I walked upstairs and opened the door to her room "Do you need me for some..." *Smack" I fell to the floor stunned, confused and frightened as she put her foot on my face and pressed down with her heel. "How fucking dare you!" "I take you in and THIS is how you repay me!!" "I..I don't know what you're talking about" I stutter out tears forming in my eyes "Yes you do!!" "you broke my lamp post with your stupid game!" Now I knew what she was talking about, but it wasn't me. She had broken it in a fit of rage at her husband when she threw it at him. "B..but I didn't" I cried as she yanked me up by my hair "So now you're lying to me" "I've been meaning to get rid of you anyways." she growled under her breath. As she dragged me into the car. We drove out to the middle of nowhere and walked into a creepy looking temple. The floor was missing and the pit seemed to emit a strange pull, magnifying anything near it. I looked back at my aunt who was smiling with a sick look in her eyes "what are we doing here...?" I asked "you will see" and she pushed me in.

We were the first ones back from trick or treating, cuddled up on the couch eating the candy we had gotten and watching a movie. I was curled up on my mate's lap and he was gently stroking my hair. He will claim that I was chirping, but that's ridiculous, I would never. It had been a good night. We each got a trash bag full of candy and bought a few monsters (the drink dumbasses) from the mortal dollar store. I moved my head to look up at him "If I asked you to go somewhere with me and not ask questions would you?" "Yes?" Bryce replied somewhat cautiously "Great, let's get going!" I hopped up off the couch and grabbed my mate's arm as he got up. I brought him to an old house that looked as if it hadn't been used in years. "What is this place?" he asked me "I said no questions." We walked throughout the old hallways and up the stairs until we got to the only well kept room in the house. It was a bedroom with a twin sized bed in the comer, bookshelves lining the walls all the way to the ceiling, a hammock with stuffed toys and a carpet in the middle of the room. "Who's room is this?" Bryce finally spoke up. "mine" I grabbed his hand "do you not live with the rest of your family?" he asked, squeezing my hand tighter and pulling me into a side hug. "They didn't want me around" not like a want them around either "Julia is the only one who knows I'm still alive, I asked her not to tell the others." he was silent for a moment "I'm sure nobody would notice a disappearance on halloween" his signature smile creeping onto his face and putting a hand on his sword sheath. "Thanks for the offer, but let's not get kicked out already" to which he booed and pouted like a child. He's so sweet. He's so sweet. my heart did somersaults when he did something so simple as meet my eyes. I moved my hand up to caress his face and leaned into his chest as his hands moved to my waist and pulled me against him. We moved to sit on the bed. Everyone at camp hated us, but I could deal with anything as long as he's by my side. Corny, I know but it's true. I curled up in his lap "I love you..."

[imkindanerdy]

Chapters: 1/1 Fandom: Welcome To The Table - Ben Brainard (Web Series) Rating: Teen And Up Audiences Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings Characters: Massachusetts (Welcome To The Table), Virginia (Welcome To The Table) Additional Tags: Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, Child Abuse, Virginia as a child, Massachusetts as a child, Virginia and Massachusetts had to grow up too fast Summary:

Virginia didn't know what to make of Massachusetts when they met as children. He already had to be responsible for so much. Massachusetts, it appeared, had a different set of expectations.

[fic-ive-read]

Link To The Fic

[topgunruinedme]

Screaming in Silence

Summary: If anyone asked Jake how four words had impacted his life, he wouldn't have been able to tell them.

FebWhump Prompt - Day 12: "Can you hear me?".

//

No one questioned Jake about his tattoo, he knew it was weird. It was unusual, worrying for people who didn't understand it. He had been asked to see a psychologist and he had seen the odd looks people give him.

But no one knew the significance behind those four words. The four words that had changed his life forever. The four words that had been the first thing that wasn’t shouted in abuse at him.

From the cop who gently pulled him out from under his bed and wrapped him in his own jacket.

‘Seresin’

The man who saved his life, who took him away from his abusive foster home, who adopted him and gave him a life he had once thought could only happen in a fairy tale. 

It all started with four words. “Can you hear me?”.

It started when he was 7. Hiding under his bed terrified as the police raided the house, his foster parents were screaming and flailing making a fuss. 

Jake held his breath as a pair of black boots stopped In front of his bed. He pressed himself back further against the wall. The shine of the flashlight the man was holding was pointed at the floor.

He watched in bated breaths as the man knelt down carefully and sucked his head under the bed.

Jake stared at him terrified, his chest caving under the stress of breathing and his heart pounded as every instinct in his body told him to run. To fight, to escape this hell he was trapped in. 

“Can you hear me?” The man asked gently with a small smile, he seemed generous perhaps if Jake was compliment he would receive less of a beating.

With a jolty head movement he nodded in his cramped space under the bed.

The man looked around before moving back, providing him more space between them.

Ensuring he didn’t feel crowded, Jake realized in awe.

“Hey bud, can you come out for me?” He asked softly, Jake watched the man lower the flashlight to see him more clearly. It was pointed away from him but the light still made him wince.

The cop grimaced “Sorry buddy, I can’t do much about that. I have to be able to see you”.

He shifted so he was down on his stomach copying Jake's position, urging the boy out softly, both of them attempting to ignore the yelling and sound of things crashing in the other room. It was slightly muffled, as the man extended a hand out to him.

Jake flinched, yanking himself away from the man watching the man tentatively for any movement that could hint towards the man hitting him. He found none. 

The man patiently waited for Jake to examine him before Jake shook his head at him, his eyes filled with terror, no he couldn’t go with him. They would take him, it would be worse, so much worse.

“No?” The officer asked “That's alright we can stay here”. He seemed almost laid back, keeping his hand extended out as an olive branch as he rested his chin on top of his hand just watching. Waiting. “My name is David Seresin, I’m an Officer for LAPD. What’s your name?”

Jake shifted uncomfortably “Jacob” he said quietly biting down the the feeling of a car to heavy tongue and cottonmouth,

“Jacob” David tilted his head “That’s a nice name, so you like it?” 

Thinking through all the abuse and names his fosters had screamed at him, he shook his head nervously. 

David smiled calmly at him “Would you rather me call you something else?”

“Jay?” He requested hesitantly. He had always been ‘Jacob’, ‘that boy’, ‘Foster’. He had never had a nickname before.

“Alright Jay, why don’t we get you out from under there now yeah?” David smiled, wiggling his fingers enticingly.

Hesitantly Jay reached out clawing their hand together letting David lead him out from Under the bed watching the man’s slow calculated movements carefully as the man helped him stand. Shrugging off his jacket and wrapping it around him. It was heavy on his shoulders far too big, then again he was far too small for his age.

“Come on kid, let’s get you out of here” David wrapped an arm around him protectively as he led him out of the house that had housed his own personal hell.

He let David walk him out to a new leaf off his life. The better half, the half where David took him in and encouraged his love for flying. It was a slow process but he was there, every event, every graduation without fail, right up until he got shot in the line of duty. 

Jake stood in front of David’s body laying on a slab, his hand pulled back the sheet and brushed the stray lock of hair off his fathers check.

David always hated how wild his hair was, he was cold to the touch. He had gone out saving a friend, a colleague. Just as he would have wanted too, he had saved another person. 

It all started with 4 words, “Can you hear me?”.

[yusuke-of-valla]

An Allegory Of The Vanities of Human Life

AO3

On a trip to Tatsumi Port Island in 2009, Yusuke overhears something he shouldn't.

-

Yusuke can’t sleep. He’s been having strange dreams ever since they got to Tatsumi Port Island. He looks at the clock and sees it’s a few minutes to midnight. For a second he’s tempted to go find Sensei, but he knows Sensei will simply scold him and say he’s too old for this sort of behavior, so instead he tries and slips into the kitchen to make some warm milk to help him sleep.

He leaves his room and sees a sliver of light from the conference room. The suite they’re in is large, paid for by one of Sensei’s friends, and he must still be up talking.

Yusuke doesn’t know what possesses him to head closer to the open door, but he can smell alcohol and hear Sensei laughing. 

He should go, he’ll be in trouble for being up so late.

“I can’t believe you did it, you old coot,” Sensei’s friend says. “After all these years, you really found the perfect business plan.”

“It’s all thanks to The Sayuri,” Sensei says, clearly drunk. 

The Sayuri? What was–

“If the woman who painted it hadn’t dropped dead in front of me, I wouldn’t have anything.”

“You’re still stuck with her kid though, right?”

“Who? Yusuke? Sure kids can be annoying but he knows how to behave.”

Yusuke backs away from the door, his entire body shaking. Sensei stole The Sayuri from Mama? Sensei had been there when Mama died? He’d said that she was alone, that there was nothing anyone could do.

He barely registers as he crashes to the floor and curls up into a ball. 

And then everything stops.

Yusuke doesn’t notice at first, too wrapped up in his sobs to notice that the laughter in the other room has gone silent, or that the moon has gotten impossibly large, or the sickly green hues lighting the apartment.

All he knows is that everything he knew was a lie.

Finally he’s run out of tears and notices how everything’s wrong, and he tiptoes back towards the door. Instead of Sensei and his friend though, there are coffins.

Yusuke’s always been told to not make too much noise, especially late at night, so he doesn’t let the scream that’s crawling out of his chest escape his throat, but he feels sick.

Is this all some sort of weird nightmare? Is there anyone else even here? 

Footsteps from the outside hall answer his question. Yusuke is quick to curl up behind the couch and hide, and someone breaks open the door.

Yusuke’s pretty sure she’s the angel of death. That has to be the only explanation, with her porcelain skin, pristine dress, and axe.

The angel of death looks around and heads into the conference room. Sure enough Yusuke hears Sensei’s friend let out a scream that’s quickly cut short. The angel of death walks out, her dress still perfectly white. Yusuke tries to get a better look at her, but accidentally knocks over the lamp.

Her head snaps over to him and she stares at him impassively.

“Well, that’s odd.”

“U-um are you going to kill me?” Yusuke asks.

She tilts her head. “I’m not sure. I don’t think it’s a good thing you saw me. Takaya would probably consider you a loose end.”

Yusuke looks down. “Can you at least take me to see Mama after you kill me?” He asks quietly.

“You’re not scared of dying?”

“I-I dunno. I just–” Yusuke’s not a stranger to death. He always knew Mama’s health was bad. That was something she wanted him to know. Mama didn’t want him to be unprepared when she died, so she spent a lot of time talking about it with him. It had helped soften the blow when Sensei had told him. He hadn’t even cried at the quick funeral. 

But now that wound’s been ripped right open. Sensei had lied about Mama’s death. Sensei had lied about everything. If nothing he knew was real then maybe it wouldn’t be so bad to die?

“I want to see  Mama,” Yusuke says.

“What happened to your mother?” The angel of death asks.

Yusuke’s eyes turn toward the door. “Sensei… he said she died when she had a seizure and he couldn’t do anything because he was in the other room, but he lied.”

“Oh, so he killed her?” 

“I don’t.. I don’t know that. I know he lied. I don’t know why.”

“Why don’t we ask him?” The angel of death walks over and offers out her hand, and Yusuke takes it. Then they head back into the conference room. The dead body of Sensei’s friend is there, along with a massive coffin.

The angel of death opens it up, and Sensei comes out.

“What? Who are you? Yusuke, what’s going on here?”

Yusuke grips the angel of death’s hand tighter, and she looks at him.

“I’m not going to do this for you.”

Yusuke swallows. “What did you do to Mama?”

“What?” Madarame laughs, “Yusuke what are you talking about?”

“You said she dropped dead in front of you, did you do something to her?”

“I don’t know what you’re trying to insinuate, but you’re being very ungrateful after everything I’ve done for you.”

“You stole The Sayuri from Mama. You said it was lucky she died! What happened?”

Sensei makes his scary face, and Yusuke instinctively opens his mouth to apologize when the angel of death squeezes his hand.

“I didn’t do anything,” Sensei says. “She had a seizure in front of me and let it happen.”

“You killed her,” Yusuke says, barely above a whisper.

“What was that?”

“You killed her! If Mama has a seizure you’re s’posed to get her the medicine in the green bottle and call the ambulance! You didn’t even try!” Tears are streaming down his cheeks.

“You can think whatever you want, but you won’t be able to prove it,” Sensei says. “I don’t know who your friend is, but she’s trespassing. My private security will–”

Faster than anyone can react, the angel of death pulls out a gun and holds it to Sensei’s head.

“N-now, let’s all be calm,” Sensei says. “Yusuke, what happened to your mother was an unfortunate accident. I couldn’t have done anything! Besides, I’ve been good to you haven’t I? I raised you as my own!”

The angel of death looks at Yusuke, silently asking a question. He thinks it over for an eternity.

“Did Mama beg you for help too?” Yusuke asks.

The anger on Madarame’s face is answer enough. 

Yusuke nods at the angel, and she points the gun at her own head. 

“Come, Medea.”

With the pull of a trigger, something…. terrifying and beautiful comes out of her and starts glowing. 

Madarame starts screaming and Yusuke closes his eyes and turns away. He doesn’t look back when the screaming stops.

“So, now can you take me to see Mama?” Yusuke asks the angel of death.

“I can’t take you to see her now,” she says, “but you can see her soon. If you’d like to come with me.”

Yusuke nods. There’s nothing left for him here now.

[ollieofthebeholder]

to find promise of peace (and the solace of rest): a TMA fanfic

<< Beginning < Prev || AO3 || My Website

Chapter 71: March 1998

Gerard likes to think of himself as reasonably fluent in Latin. At the very least, he can translate a good number of the texts his mother puts in front of him these days, and he’s written out his fair share, too, and they’re more or less understandable by anyone with a working grasp of the language. His pronunciation is decent and, when his mother reads aloud to him, he can usually comprehend it well enough.

He has, however, no clue what the old man in the frock coat is saying.

Well, that’s not…entirely true. He’s following along, for the most part. But it’s just off enough that it’s like the guy is speaking a different language. At the very least it’s a dialect he’s not familiar with, and does Latin even have dialects? He supposes it must have, at one point, just like every other language does—the Roman Empire was big enough, and lasted long enough, that there must be variants all over the place—but he’s never learned anything but the scholarly, textbook variety, and he’s not sure what’s going on.

He realizes he’s focusing on something supremely unimportant in the grand scheme of things. If he worries about how the man is saying what he’s saying, he doesn’t have to think about what he’s saying, or why he’s saying it. He can pretend everything is normal.

To his left, Melanie stands unusually still for once. Her black crepe dress with the white lace collar fits her way too well to have been recently purchased—Roger almost always buys things Melanie is going to grow into—but her patent leather Mary Janes must be new, since he’s never seen them before and they’re far too shiny to have been worn much; they haven’t even picked up much of the dirt. She’s taken her hair back with a faux pearl clip, silver stars wink in her recently pierced ears, and at her throat is a cameo necklace on a black velvet ribbon. Her face is drawn and pale, and she’s clutching an honest-to-God handkerchief trimmed in lace, which might have been white once but is currently the same ivory color as the cameo. She stares straight ahead, not moving, except for the fingers that keep twisting and twisting the handkerchief.

Gerard’s eyes rove over the crowd. It’s mostly older people, a few people he recognizes vaguely from seeing around the neighborhood and one or two who’ve come to Pinhole Books on occasion, but for the most part they’re all completely unknown to him. (He’s learned by now not to use stranger in a benign context.) Roger, standing on Melanie’s other side, seems to be polishing his square spectacles rather a lot, and Gerard’s not about to look at his mother, because he doesn’t want to know what she’s looking at and doesn’t want to get in trouble if what she’s looking at is him.

Unfortunately, that only leaves him two places to look.

He lets himself, reluctantly, look at the folding chair placed just ahead of them. It’s almost entirely empty, except for two figures. Aunt Lily has gained back some weight in the last year—a lot of weight—and now has to use a cane everywhere she goes; her hands, covered in black kid gloves, are folded neatly over the carved wooden handle, except when she raises one to cough discreetly into a handkerchief—like Melanie’s, except hers is trimmed in black. She honestly looks like she’s just stepped out of an Edwardian fashion plate in a magazine instructing people on proper mourning attire. For fuck’s sake, she even has a hat with a veil.

Of course Martin stands next to her, slightly behind her. He looks smaller than usual, like he’s crumpled in on himself. His black suit jacket is just a little too big for him, hanging loosely on his shoulders and covering half of his hands, but he’s finally grown into the Norfolk cap he’s owned as long as Gerard has known him. Because of where he’s standing, Gerard can’t see anything else, but he knows he’s wearing a pair of too-long trousers that cover his smart black school shoes. He can, however, see his face, and it makes his heart hurt. It’s beyond upset, beyond even devastated. Martin looks…lost.

Gerard looks away, and of course in doing so his eyes lock onto the box just behind the priest. For some reason, the box bothers him more than Martin’s face, even though it’s closed. Maybe especially because it’s closed.

He keeps telling himself the old man isn’t really in there. That it’s just a box, containing an empty shell. That they know the old man is dead and beyond the reach of the Fourteen. The body he viewed last night, dressed in a dove grey wool suit and fingers folded over the rosary his parents brought from Poland, isn’t really the man they all knew, it’s just a husk. That man is gone, somewhere they won’t see him for a long time, if ever. Gerard isn’t terribly sure what kind of an afterlife there is, if there even is an afterlife, and he’s not sure he’ll ever earn a place in the same afterlife as Alastair Koskiewicz if there is. But wherever it is, it’s somewhere better than this, it has to be.

It doesn’t help much.

It’s not just the fact of the coffin, the idea of being shut up in a box and dropped in a hole and covered in dirt forever and ever, and how horrifying it would be if he wakes up and can’t get out. Gerard’s read stories about that happening and it’s kept him up at nights sometimes, although not as often as thinking about the casual comment Martin made when they first met (why didn’t he ever tell Alastair about that, why hasn’t he told someone, is Martin still being punished like that, what if Martin wakes up in that coffin someday). It’s the whole fact of him being dead. Death is one of the Fourteen, after all, so even being dead doesn’t mean he’s completely safe. Gerard’s not sure how that works and he’s kind of afraid to ask.

Tiny cold fingers slide into Gerard’s, and he squeezes back on instinct. That’s all Melanie needs, apparently, and she clutches his hand so tight he almost expects his fingers to pop off. For a skinny little twig like she is, she’s got a really strong grip.

The priest recites a phrase, and even if it doesn’t sound exactly like how Gerard learned it, he at least knows what it means: Ashes to ashes, dust to dust. He then nods and gestures at the coffin.

Six men, five strangers and Roger, step forward and each take a handle of the coffin, then carry it over to the hole. A man, probably an employee of the cemetery, directs them, then signals for them to let go. For a moment, the coffin rests on a series of straps before the pallbearers lower it into the ground.

At his side, Melanie gives a low whimper and turns away for a moment, pressing her handkerchief to her lips, before straightening and facing the grave again.

At another signal from the priest, Aunt Lily hefts herself to her feet and limps forward, Martin trailing after her. She takes something from the priest and throws it into the open grave, then steps back. The priest beckons to Martin, who also comes forward and hesitantly lets something fall from his hand into the grave. Unlike his mother, though, he doesn’t stand back, just stays where he is. The priest ignores him in favor of finishing the ceremony.

Once the final amen is said, the crowd drifts away from the graveside and back towards the road, probably intent on heading back to the old man’s house, where a reception has been laid out. Roger moves over to assist Aunt Lily to her feet, and she leans on both him and her cane as she struggles forward. Gerard’s mother focuses on an awkward-looking young blond man standing off to one side, gives a sharp, sweetly poisonous smile, and heads in that direction. Martin remains where he is, staring down into the grave, even as the gravediggers uncover the pile of dirt under the tarp and begin spading it back into the hole. Gerard can hear the rattle as it rains on the lid of the coffin. Melanie flinches at the sound, then suddenly yanks her hand out of Gerard’s and rushes over to Martin’s side, throwing her arms around him and hugging him tightly.

He doesn’t react. Gerard’s heart constricts.

Hesitantly, he crosses over as well and puts one hand on Martin’s shoulder and the other on Melanie’s. He’s taller than both of them, for now anyway, tall enough that he can look over their heads and see into the grave as the smooth, polished wood gradually disappears under the dry, brittle soil.

“C’mon,” he says gently, trying to steer Melanie and Martin away. “Let’s get back to the house.”

Melanie starts to come without too much resistance, but she stops dead in her tracks when Martin doesn’t budge. He keeps watching as the coffin is slowly but steadily obscured.

He’s not crying. Gerard doesn’t like it. He understands Melanie—he’s never seen her cry, no matter how upset she gets—but Martin wears his heart on his sleeve, and the fact that he’s not crying for his grandfather is…worrying. As is the way he’s just…staring at the hole, and the box.

“Martin,” Gerard says, a little more insistently. He holds his shoulder a little tighter, shakes him a bit, trying to get his attention. The fact that Martin still doesn’t react scares him more than he’s willing to admit, and before he can stop himself, he slaps the younger boy across the face. “Martin!”

Martin jerks and stumbles back from the edge of the grave. Gerard takes advantage of him being off-balance to grab his arm and drag him away; Melanie loops her arm through his other one and helps, although she’s not much help. Actually, Gerard has to admit that if Martin wasn’t already off-balance, he wouldn’t be able to move him either. Martin is chubby, to put it politely, and probably weighs as much as both of them put together, and he can be quite difficult to move when he wants to be.

The village cemetery is probably a good mile from the house, but most of the cars have already left by the time they manage to wrestle Martin to the road. Gerard reckons that’s probably not the worst thing in the world—the walk will do them good—but before he can even bring that up, a woman comes over to them. She looks to be about the same age as Gerard’s mother, a sweet-faced woman whose thick braid of hair is more white than black but whose dark blue eyes shine with innocence, and she’s dressed in a black skirt suit that looks more like an everyday work outfit than something bought specially for a funeral.

“It’s Martin, isn’t it?” she says in a soft, gentle voice. Martin recoils, shrinking back, a naked terror suddenly replacing the half-blind look that was in them before, but nods once. The woman doesn’t seem to notice his fear. “I’m so sorry about your grandfather, dear. I used to work with him a long time ago. He was a very, very good man.” Turning to Gerard, she adds, “And of course, you’re Eric’s son, aren’t you? Gerard? We used to be colleagues. I was saddened to hear of his passing.”

Passing. Like it was an easy thing and not the work of his mother and a pair of hedge clippers. Gerard swallows down that response and only says, “Yes, ma’am. Thank you.”

Turning to Melanie, the woman’s smile softens. “And who are you, sweetling?”

Melanie surprises Gerard. She looks up at Martin briefly, then back at the woman, but doesn’t answer. Gerard figures she’s just shy for some reason, or too upset to talk, and steps in. “This is Melanie. She’s our friend. Her dad was one of the pallbearers.”

“Of course, of course. Are you a friend of the family, then?”

Gerard starts to answer, but Melanie shakes her head and pulls on Martin’s arm. “Gerry, you know we’re not supposed to talk to strangers. C’mon, let’s go home.”

“Oh!” The woman gives a silvery laugh, then instantly sobers. “I’m so sorry, I forgot entirely! Of course none of you know me. My name is Emma.” She looks around the parking lot and adds, “It looks like everyone else has left already. Why don’t I give you a ride back to the house?”

“No.” That single word, laden with terror and cracked with tears, explodes out of Martin’s mouth as he takes a step back. It shocks Gerard, who suddenly realizes it’s the first word out of Martin’s mouth since Alastair died, but also because Martin is never rude to grown-ups. Or anybody, really, but especially not grown-ups.

He’s right, though. Gerard was on the verge of accepting the ride, but it dawns on him just how stupid an idea that is. They don’t know this woman, and for all she claims to know both Martin’s grandfather and Gerard’s father, they can’t prove she actually does. Did. She could be trying to kidnap them, or worse.

With that in mind, Gerard tosses a hasty, “Thank you, ma’am, nice to meet you!” over his shoulder as he heads up the block, arm still looped through Martin’s. It’s hard to say who’s dragging whom.

It takes them almost half an hour to get back to the house. The drive and street are clogged with cars, including the one belonging to the woman called Emma—so at least she’s actually here—and a few shadowy figures pass by the windows. Gerard figures they’ll slip inside, grab a plate each, and find a quiet corner to tuck into.

Martin surprises him again. He bypasses the house entirely, sliding his arms from Melanie and Gerard’s without a word, and makes straight for the grove of cherry trees, currently bare and only just beginning to think about budding; they won’t flower for at least another month. He doesn’t stop there, either, just reaches up and seizes a low-hanging branch and hauls himself into one of the older and sturdier trees. Martin might be plump, but he’s strong.

“Martin! Jesus.” Gerard looks at Melanie, who gives him a worried look in reply. Bowing to the inevitable, he goes over to the tree with her and boosts her up. Once she’s managed to pull herself onto a branch, and while she’s trying to figure out how to climb a bit higher to reach Martin, Gerard turns and heads back into the house.

For a wonder, he manages to elude both his mother and Martin’s, retrieve a few snacks he can secrete in his jacket pocket, and slip back out again without anyone being the wiser. Getting himself into the tree is harder, but with the assistance of the split-rail fence and a bit of effort he manages it. Martin has climbed as high as he possibly can before the branches won’t hold him anymore, and Melanie has managed, with some difficulty, to get just a couple branches below him. Gerard makes his way up to join them, then fetches the food out from his pocket and passes some to Melanie and some to Martin. He takes it mechanically, but doesn’t eat.

Finally, Gerard breaks the silence. “I’m sorry for telling that woman your name, Neens.”

“I don’t mind. She knew yours and Martin’s, it’s only fair she knew mine, too. I just wasn’t going to talk to her.” Melanie peers up at Martin. “You didn’t like her, did you?”

Martin shakes his head, but doesn’t say anything. The sausage roll hangs from his hand, and he’s staring vacantly at something far away. He looks a lot older than nine years old and Gerard doesn’t know how to fix it.

Before he can figure out what to say, or even if he’s going to say anything, he hears voices and looks down. The woman from the cemetery is passing under the trees—which she has no reason to do, they’re not between the house and the cars—along with two other people, neither of whom look so old. Gerard can’t tell genders from this angle, only that one has curly blond hair and the other has sandy brown shingled hair. They’ve obviously all been at the funeral, or are trying to blend in with it, and are apparently mid-conversation.

“—know him?” a man’s voice asks. “I guess she must have, if you did. Shame she couldn’t come.”

“She’s very busy.” The older woman’s voice doesn’t quite have the same soft, gentle tones it did when she was speaking to the three of them, but it still sounds very sweet and pleasant. “That’s why she sent us, to pay her regards.”

“I have to say,” says a woman’s voice, “the, er, bereaved didn’t seem particularly upset.” The person with the shingled hair stops and puts hands on hips, so Gerard presumes she’s the one speaking. “Not until you mentioned the Institute, anyway.”

“I probably shouldn’t have done that,” the man says, rubbing the back of his neck with one hand. “I—I didn’t think it would be that big of a deal. I mean, if her father worked there…”

“Worked, past tense,” the unknown woman points out. “Why did he leave, anyway, Emma?”

“Oh, I don’t know,” Emma says, a bit vaguely. “It was so long ago—it wasn’t very long after I started working for Gertrude myself.”

“Was he in the Archives, too? Did he know Eric?” The man’s voice is a bit eager.

“Gracious, no, not the Archives. Alastair was a practical researcher. You’ll find his name on several of the catalog entries for the older artifacts, if you know where to look.” Emma sighs. “But yes, he knew Eric, too. And Fiona—you never met her, of course, she sadly passed away before your time—”

“Didn’t I get hired to replace her?”

“—he was always so patient with her. The rest of us thought she was a bit of a fuddy-duddy, honestly, but I suppose she reminded him of his own mother.”

“You must have known him well,” the unknown woman says shrewdly.

Emma shrugs. “Not very, honestly. As I said, we were in different departments. He usually brought down information for Gertrude from the other departments, and they’d chat a bit, but I was always so busy I never had much time.”

“Ms. Robinson must have been busy, too,” the man says, sounding defensive.

“I’m not saying she wasn’t, Michael dear. Only that I didn’t make the time to make as many connections as she did.” Emma sighs—a bit theatrically, Gerard thinks. “It’s something I regret in my old age.”

“You’re not old.” Michael, or at least Gerard assumes he’s Michael, touches her arm urgently. “You’re still quite young, honest.”

Emma laughs that same silvery laugh. “You’re so sweet.”

Michael sighs. “You know who I feel bad for, though? That little boy. Is that—was that Alastair’s grandson?”

“Yes, that’s Martin. I wanted to speak a bit more with him, but he’s understandably upset. He must have loved his grandfather very much.” Emma clucks her tongue. “The poor little thing.”

“His grandfather loved him, too,” the unknown woman says. “I didn’t see a single picture of his mother anywhere in that house, but that little boy was all over it.” She sighs. “Come on. We’d best be getting back. I’ve still got to follow up with a couple of people.”

They move off, and for a few moments, there is complete silence. Then something wet hits Gerard’s hand. He looks up and sees Martin, still staring fixedly ahead of him, but with big, fat tears dripping down his cheeks.

“Martin.” Abandoning safety, sense, and sausage roll, Melanie pulls herself to a standing position and lunges forward to wrap her arms around Martin’s middle before Gerard can tell her be careful. She buries her face in his side and just holds on for dear life.

“I can’t remember his face,” Martin says, his voice small and fragile and choked with tears. “I, I didn’t—Mum said, she said I wasn’t allowed to look if I couldn’t see on my own and, and I was too short, so I didn’t see him last night, there was just the picture, but he was so young, he wasn’t—he wasn’t finished. It wasn’t his face. But I can’t remember what he looked like. He loved me so much and I can’t remember his face…”

Gerard swallows hard. He can empathize with that, a little, anyway. He barely remembers what his own father looked like, and…well, he assumes his father loved him. He remembers loving his father, anyway. Martin’s had nine years with his grandfather and only just lost him. That has to be disconcerting.

He could describe it to him. Tell Martin what his grandfather looks like. He could also reassure him that even if he had been able to look into the coffin last night, it wouldn’t have looked like his grandfather, not with all the makeup and the weird slackness that death adds to a face.

He doesn’t. Instead, he puts one hand on Martin’s leg and the other on Melanie’s waist and summons up every ounce of authority and assurance he can.

“You don’t have to,” he says.

Martin blinks and looks down at Gerard. “Wh-what?”

“You don’t have to remember his face,” Gerard repeats. “Is that what’s important? Or is it important that he loved you, and you love him? You can remember what he sounded like when he told you stories or taught you poems, right? What it felt like when he hugged you? What the cherry pie he made specially for you smelled like?”

“Yeah…?”

“Then that’s what matters. Faces change. Yours isn’t finished yet either, or mine, or Melanie’s, and if you didn’t see us for years and years and then one day you saw us again, maybe you wouldn’t remember what we looked like, but you’d remember we’re your friends. Love doesn’t have to look. Love just has to be.”

Melanie and Martin both stare at Gerard, who tries not to look embarrassed. He’s almost twelve, and love isn’t a word he throws around a lot, but for these two, he’ll do it. He’s never had a brother or a sister, but he feels like he’s got one now. And Alastair treated him like another grandson. He’s, he was, a good man, and Martin deserves to not feel bad for remembering him in whatever way he does.

“Besides,” he adds, to lighten the mood a little bit. “He looks a lot like a cross between your mum and a bulldog with big dangly jowls and a walrus mustache. You don’t want that image in your head all the time.”

It elicits a tiny giggle out of the other two, and Martin starts to wipe his eyes with his sleeve before Melanie hands him her handkerchief. “He’s right,” she tells him. “Not about your granddad, not exactly, but—I don’t remember what Mama looked like either. Not really. The only picture I’ve got of her is from after she got sick, and that didn’t look like her really either.”

Martin dabs at his cheeks. “But…but what if I do forget?”

“Then we’ll remind you,” Gerard says. “That’s what family is for, right?”

At that, Martin finally smiles and nods. “Yeah. That’s what family is for.”

[crymeariveronceagain]

SOMETHING. HAPPENED. WITH KEEFE SENCEN AND CASSIUS SENCEN. BETWEEN BOOKS 2 AND 3.

SOMETHING HAPPENED.

KEEFE WENT FROM MENTIONING HIS DAD'S NASTIENESS 1/15 CONVERSATIONS TO 1/5 CONVERSATIONS.

HE WENT FROM MENTIONING IT ONCE EVERY SO OFTEN TO DOING IT WHENEVER HE CAN AND STRETCHING IT OUT LONGER.

THAT IS A CRY FOR HELP IF I'VE EVER SEEN ONE.

IT'S A FRICKING TACTIC ONE OF MY FRIENDS USED TO USE TO STRESS HOW BAD THEIR PARENTALS WERE. I REMEMBER ONCE THEY BROUGHT IT UP FOUR TIMES IN ONE NIGHT, AND THE SILENCE THAT WENT AROUND THE ROOM BECAUSE WE WERE ALL TEENAGERS WHO DIDNT KNOW WHAT TO DO WITH THAT STILL HAUNTS ME TO THIS DAY.

THAT'S HOW YOU LET PEOPLE KNOW THAT THINGS ARE VERY NOT OKAY. UNDER THE RADAR. BECAUSE PEOPLE CAN BRUSH IT OFF IF THEY WANT.

I HAVE STRONG FEELINGS AND THEY INVOLVE WANTING TO SHAKE KEEFE BY THE SHOULDERS AND ASK HIM WHAT HAPPENED

[wangxianficrecs]

💙 The Men They Became by pinky_b

💙 The Men They Became

by pinky_b

G, 3k, Wangxian & Nielan

Summary: When he looks at A-Yuan, he sees everything he wishes his nephews could have been: happy. Or: Lan Qiren looks back on how he raised his nephews. Kind of a character study. Kay's comments: This story is the epitome of "Lan Qiren tries". Sometimes, just doing what you do is best, is not enough. He thinks things are going well for a while after he had to take in his nephews, but the house of cards collapses at some point, both boys having to deal with severe mental health issues that have been untreated for too long. Still, he tries his best at least until Wei Wuxian enters the mix. Then, he almost loses his nephews for good... This story is just very lovely in its own heartbreaking way and everyone who grew up having complicated relationships with their parents will probably recognize some part of it in this story. Still, there's hope in this too and a happy ending after some much needed communication! I also really like how this mirrored canon. Excerpt: When he looks at A-Yuan, he sees everything he wishes his nephews could have been: happy. As he watches his grand-nephew talk with his friends and smile, laugh, he feels this weight settle in his chest, reminding him of everything he failed to do. He tries to not be too hard on himself, but he knows he failed both his nephews in so many ways it physically hurts him. He tried. He truly honestly tried to do right by them in everything he did. He sees the unrestrained grin that seems to live on Lan Yuan’s face and the crowd of friends around him, and in those things, he sees everything his boys never had. He wants to be able to give himself some grace. He was never an affectionate man, and children were never anything he saw for his future, but he thought he was doing his best with what life gave him. He wants to be able to say that he did them well. Both his nephews are smart, capable, respectable men, but he thinks they became all those things in spite of how they were raised. Sometimes he feels like the boys had to overcome growing up in his home to become the men they are now. They say hindsight is always 20/20 and he can see now that there was too much on Xichen’s young shoulders.

pov lan qiren, modern setting, modern no powers, implied/referenced child abuse, child neglect, implief/referenced self-harm, grief/mourning, parent-child relationship, mental healh issues, panic attacks, musician lan wangji, lan xichen/nie mingjue, nielan, journalist wei wuxian, complicated relationships, coming out, character study

~*~

(Please REBLOG as a signal boost for this hard-working author if you like – or think others might like – this story.)

[mirananananan]

i now present to you.....my first whumptober entry!

(ft. way more comfort and fluff than hurt but oh well...if you know me....you know)

[naminethewriter]

You're Not Alone

Chapter Three: Alone No More

Masterpost | First | Previous | Next | Ao3

Back again with the @sanderssidesgiftxchange gift for @edupunkn00b! It's slow going but it's going! Only one more chapter and the epilogue left. Hope you enjoy 🥰

Summary: Logan, Janus and Remus are celebrating their first Christmas as a married couple but a snow storm strands both Janus and Remus elsewhere, leaving Logan home alone. Knowing that the situation will trigger their husband, Janus and Remus need to find a way home.

Content Warnings: implied/referenced child abuse, mentions of panic attacks and flashbacks

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

The door swung open to reveal a person covered from head to toe in thick clothes. Clothes that Logan recognized from this morning when Janus had left for Patton’s. His husband hates the cold so even for the few hours of sledding he had dressed like he was going skiing for the entire day, though he hadn’t worn everything for the drive. Now though, he wore the thick jacket buttoned up to his mouth, the hood up and a pair of sunglasses that were designed to keep snow out of the eyes. And it was obvious that it had been necessary with how much snow was clinging to his clothes.

“Would you let me come in, darling? Despite the many layers, it still feels like I’m freezing,” Janus said after a few moments of Logan simply staring at him.

Logan went from frozen to hectic within a few seconds. He pulled Janus inside and shut the door with more force than necessary. He began to wipe the snow off Janus’ clothes with bare hands, all the while rambling anxiously.

“What happened? How did you even get here?! Why are you here? Weren’t you at Remy’s? You must be freezing! What if you have hypothermia? We can’t get to a hospital in this weather!”

Cold hands grabbing his own startled him out of his panic. Janus had taken off the hood, glasses and gloves and his heterochromatic eyes were staring into his blue ones.

“Breathe, darling. I’m fine. Yes, I’m cold but that is a good sign. If I were hypothermic, I would be running very hot. If you would be so kind and get me a towel, I’ll get out of these clothes and we’ll talk about how I got here when you’ve calmed down, okay?”

Logan nodded, still shaking slightly. Janus gave him a task to focus on, something concrete to do and that alone helped him calm down. Still, he hesitated to leave, a part of him convinced that this was an illusion, that Janus hadn’t actually come home, that he was still alone.

His worries must have been written on his face because Janus smiled and squeezed his hands.

“I’ll be right here when you get back, starlight. I promise.”

That was enough to reassure Logan to set off to the bathroom. On his way he counted his breaths, in for four, hold for seven, out for eight. His heartbeat had mostly normalized as he opened the cupboard they kept their towels in. He grabbed one larger and two smaller ones and made his way back to the entrance.

It was silent as he travelled back through the hallway. He couldn’t hear Janus and again, he worried that he had just imagined the ringing of the doorbell and his husband coming home, but as he rounded the last corner, there he was, on the floor, struggling to pull off his boots. He smiled at Logan and suddenly he felt so much lighter.

This was real.

Janus was really there.

He wasn’t going to be all alone.

“Thank you, dear,” Janus hummed as Logan handed him the first towel. He wiped his face with it, then pulled off his slightly damp socks and wrapped his feet in the soft material with a sigh. Logan moved behind him and dried off his long hair, though it was barely wet, safely hidden under the hood and scarf Janus had worn. Said articles of clothing hung on their coat rack, dripping water steadily on the floor. They should move those to the laundry room soon.

Again, it was almost as if his husband read his mind when he commented:

“I should probably take a shower after taking this all to dry in the laundry room.”

“While I do agree with moving the wet clothing, I do not believe showering is the best option. If you do have some form of hypothermia, warming up too quickly could have adverse effects and I know you tend to use hot water to shower,” Logan argued while his husband pouted at him.

“Then how am I supposed to get warm again?”

Logan blushed slightly and avoided eye contact. Despite being married to both Janus and Remus for months now and having previously dated a couple years, he was still rather shy about openly showing affection. He cleared his throat.

“Sharing body heat is probably the best method.”

He didn’t need to look to know that Janus was grinning at him teasingly.

“Is that so?” he hummed. “Then are you willing to share your heat with me, my darling?”

“Of course I am. But we should get you into some dry and warm clothes first.” Logan didn’t hesitate in his offer, but his cheeks do turn a deeper shade of red.

“If I was Remus, I would suggest leaving clothes out of it entirely, but I would love to put on one of my sweaters, actually.”

Logan sighed at the mention of his other husband. He hoped he and Roman had managed to find a hotel room to stay in. They should call them once Janus was taken care off.

“I’ll put the clothes away, would you be a dear and fetch me my self-care day outfit?” Janus asked with a smile that Logan found he could never say no to. Not that he wanted to, he wanted to know his husband was not freezing to death sooner rather than later.

“You are the best,” Janus said when Logan nodded. He gathered the jacket, scarf, boots and other equipment he had taken off, pressed a kiss to Logan’s cheek and disappeared down the hall.

Logan himself went upstairs to their bedroom, but as he tried to enter, he found the room locked. Right. Of course it was. A precaution he had agreed to. And a necessary one at that since he could vaguely remember having a flashback intense enough that he would have locked himself inside if he had had the opportunity to do so. Janus had told him where he hid the key this morning in case Logan actually needed to enter their room for whatever reason since he wouldn’t remember during a flashback. And maybe it was the aftershocks of having one, but he couldn’t recall where the key was.

“Janus?” he called, after having walked back to the staircase, hoping his husband would hear him.

“Yes?” came the quiet but clear response.

“Where is the key for the bedroom again?”

“In the kitchen, under your Crofter’s jar!”

“Right,” Logan mumbled to himself before calling a thank you to his husband and going downstairs to retrieve the item.

He found Janus there already, only dressed in a long-sleeved shirt, leggings of some kind and his house shoes. He held the key out for Logan to take while using his free hand to set up water to boil, presumably for tea.

“You want some as well?” he asked as he handed over the small object.

“Yes please. And sorry for making you wait.”

“It’s alright. This layer is completely dry and warm enough for now.”

“I will still hurry.”

“Thank you, darling.” Janus pressed another kiss to his cheek and Logan hurried back to their bedroom, the promise of cuddles with his husband and a cup of tea very appealing to him as he was hit with a wave of exhaustion.

~~~

Ten minutes later, Logan and Janus sat beside each other on the couch, their legs tangled together under a blanket and each with a cup of their respective favorite teas in hand. Janus now wore his hair tied in a loose bun, his favorite yellow sweater and very comfy pants that Remus liked to steal from him occasionally.

Logan couldn’t be more comfortable but still he couldn’t quench his curiosity.

“Would you mind explaining to me now how you got here?”

Janus sighed and leaned forward to place his mug on the coffee table.

“It’s simple really. I walked.”

“You walked?”

“Yes.”

“From Remy’s to here?”

“Yes.”

“Through a snowstorm?”

“Yes, dear.”

“Why would you do that?! Do you not understand how dangerous that is?! You could have died! How did you not die?”

Logan was shaking and Janus carefully extracted the cup of tea from his hands and placed it beside his own before pulling him in a hug.

“I was well aware of the risk, honey. But what else was I supposed to do?”

“Stay where it was safe! Wait until the storm had passed!”

“Knowing you were here alone? Knowing you were already on the brink of a panic attack as soon as you hung up? I couldn’t do that, Logan. I never want you to have to experience those flashbacks again. I hate seeing you hurt like that. It breaks my heart and if you would allow me to pay that woman back for what she did to you, I would in a heartbeat, as would Remus. I think he has at least twenty different plans on how to make her life hell written down somewhere. I couldn’t stand the thought of you being here, alone, for however many hours it would be until the storm clears. I had to get to you. No matter what.”

“You could have died, Janus,” Logan said, his voice breaking. Both of them were crying, clinging onto each other as if it was the only thing keeping them alive. It felt like it was to Logan at least.

“I know. Remy told me so at least a dozen times. But you’re more important.”

“I’m not more important than your life!”

“To me you are.”

Logan sobbed and hid his face in Janus’ chest. His husband let it happen, stroking his hair and nuzzling against it.

“The important thing is that I made it here. Don’t think about what could have been and just be happy that we’re here together. You can still yell at me tomorrow.”

“I will.”

“I know. I’ll look forward to it.”

“You are incorrigible.”

“I know.”

“I love you.”

“I love you, too. Now rest. We can prepare dinner together after a nap, okay?”

“Okay.”

Logan didn’t move and Janus made no attempt to separate them either and soon, both drifted off.

~~~

They awoke a few hours later to the doorbell ringing constantly and someone pounding at the door.

“LOGIE?! ARE YOU OKAY? CAN YOU HEAR ME?? OPEN THE DOOR! I WON’T LET YOU BE ALONE ANYMORE!”

The calling continued as Janus and Logan looked at each other with wide eyes.

“Remus?!”

[legends-of-time]

Strength of a High and Noble Hill (Outlander Story) - Masterlist

Timelines:

19th and 20th Centuries

17th and 18th Centuries

Fraser Descendants (family tree)

Warnings:

Major Character Death, Minor Character Death, Period-Typical Homophobia, Period Typical Attitudes, Period-Typical Sexism, Period-Typical Racism, Implied/Referenced Rape/Non-con

Summary:

May 1744

He wriggles his toes, feeling his environment. He quickly realises how much his surroundings are constricted, his legs are tightly bound and he is being cradled in someone’s arms. He opens his eyes and sees a woman leaning over him and realises she must be the one holding them. She’s humming softly with a warm and happy smile. He can see that her skin is clammy and there are bruises under her eyes, the eyes that are amber, golden-brown as well as smoky topaz, but that doesn’t dim her smile as she gazes upon the person in her arms. She’s white and her brown hair surrounds her face in messy curls.

——

What if Claire and Jamie’s first baby survived and what if it had been a boy. How will the story change?

Chapters:

Chapter 1: Birth

Chapter 2: First Months

Chapter 3: Peaceful Family Life Disrupted

Chapter 4: Goodbyes

Chapter 5: New Beginnings

Chapter 6: A Fish Out of Water

Chapter 7: Conflict

Chapter 8: Sister

Chapter 9: Returning

Chapter 10: The Truth

Chapter 11: The Loss of Hope

Chapter 12: Coping with Change

Chapter 13: Finding Him

Chapter 14: Moving to the Past

Chapter 15: Loss

Chapter 16: Lost Family

Chapter 17: A New but Old World

Chapter 18: Reunited at Last

Chapter 19: Big Brother

Chapter 20: Coming Together

Chapter 21: Fathers

Chapter 22: Dreams

Chapter 23: Fathers and Their Archaic Ways

Chapter 24: River Run

Chapter 25: A New but Old Face

Chapter 26: Caught in the Act

Chapter 27: Family Time

Chapter 28: New Beginnings

Chapter 29: Waiting

Chapter 30: Old Dreams

Chapter 31: Inferiority Complex

Chapter 32: Community Swelling

Chapter 33: Purpose

Chapter 34: First Sight

Chapter 35: Is it Happily Ever After?

Chapter 36: Gifts and Awkward Conversations

Chapter 37: Unravels

Chapter 38: Lay Up Trouble For Yourself

Chapter 39: War Wins Land, Peace Wins People

Chapter 40: Life Goes On But The Threat Looms

Chapter 41: Building Arsenal

Chapter 42: Romeo and Juliet

Chapter 43: Baggage Weighs You Down

Chapter 44: Misunderstandings

Chapter 45: Should auld acquaintance be forgot?

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