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next update on May 19!

[43sparrows]

satisfied - {Five x Reader AU}

Read Part 1 & Part 2 & Part 3 / Part 3.5 & Part 4

Warning: a rollercoaster from start to end

Word Count: 4,512

Note: Here it is. The final installment. I'm also impressed I've managed to pull off my own little goal which was to make each chapter longer as we go deeper and deeper into this relationship. It was fun to write, and I hope you stick with me for my next series

You've ignored four of his calls.

Well, technically, you've only ignored one, deleting the message from the answering machine after a short but brutal internal war. The other three times he's tried to get in touch with you were on the typical ripped out notes taped to your mirror. Each one was plucked down, scanned for words you didn't really expect to find (sorry, mistake, asshole), and then tossed into the waste bin.

You know that even as fucked up as your last encounter was, he deserves more--an explanation or at least a clean break--but you can't bring yourself to give him either. And you hate that about yourself. You hate it because you know why you can't do it, and the feeling that comes from this fact is worse than any of the ways Five's ever made you feel.

So, you don't call him. Instead, you work to erase the little traces of him you find in your apartment and in your thoughts until at last you're faced with something you can't just stick in the garbage: the man himself.

He's standing at the foot of your bed, hands on his hips and brow knit together. The look stops you dead in your tracks as you enter the room.

"You're avoiding me."

You feel like you're going to throw up. The thought briefly crosses your mind that if you do, you might get out of having this conversation. But instead you take a few more steps into the room and close the door behind you. When you face him again, you find his finger tapping at his waist. Your eyes remain on the finger instead of his face and you stay silent. This isn't an admission of guilt, but he seems to take it as one.

"Why?" he demands.

Objectively, you know the words. You're proficient in more than one language, so frankly you have more than enough words to use. But you can't seem to piece them together quite right, and so, no sound comes out. Instead you turn your gaze to your right and it lands on the candle on your bookshelf. The flame flickers, dancing in a breeze you can't feel yourself. You feel like there's a metaphor somewhere in there.

"Look--"

"Why would you do that to me, Five?" Your voice is soft, but the interruption effectively cuts him off. If you were looking, you'd imagine you'd see his eyes squint at you in frustrated confusion. His mouth would be slightly open, and you'd want to kiss it closed. So you can't face him. Your gaze stays fixated on the candle.

"Do what?"

You wet your lips as if that will help get out what you need to say. It doesn't work, but it does buy you a bit of time and makes the tension in the room that much more palpable. You wonder if that's what's guiding the flame through its movements.

"You brought me to Howl's just to fuck me in front of my ex."

Five's quiet now, and you chance a look at him from the corner of your eye. He doesn't look frustrated, but he does look like he's working a math problem and each time he comes to the end he gets a different solution.

He notices you're looking and tries to catch your eye, so you turn back to watch the candle burn it's way down the wick.

"You said you wanted something to shove in his face."

You don't remember saying that, but it's true. You did want something to shove in his face. But not like this. You shake your head at him.  "Not that." Your voice is both airy and tight, and it's not a good sign. "That wasn't anything worth shoving in his face."

"What?" There's heat in Five's voice now, and you can tell that something you've said has pushed a button. "He's working two jobs so he can get married to some boring elementary school teacher, and you're having mindblowing sex with the closest thing this city has to a goddamn superhero. Who came out on top there?"

"You," you say, simply.

"Me?" he repeats, and you finally find the strength to turn and face him. His eyebrows have shot up so high, you're surprised they're not touching his hairline.

"You're the one who got what they wanted out of that show Five. Because he's still happily getting married having been proven right that I'm nothing more than a call girl dumb enough to work for free."

Five narrows his eyes at you, and there's nothing confused about the look. Instead, he looks downright mean. You realize in that look, that he's missed the point completely. He's not listening to you. He's not seeing you. And you're starting to realize that he may not even want to. The realization hurts. It fucking hurts. Like you're being ripped apart from the inside. And the worst part is that you really should have known this.

Before he can get any words out, you beat him to the punch. It's the only way this argument was ever going to end. �� "I can't do this anymore, Five."

The look shifts into one of incredulousness and then disgust and then stoniness. And then, without a word, he vanishes.

You feel like you've collapsed on the inside.

Apparently, you look like it too.

Your boss had taken one look at you and tried to send you back home. You'd told her that you were fine to work and made it half the day before she insisted you looked truly terrible and needed to go home. And maybe see a doctor.

Judging by the look on your roommate's face, you look even worse now that you've made it home.

"Are you alright?" she asks, peering up at you from the couch.

"Got sent home early," you mumble. It's not exactly an answer to her question, but you hope that it gets you out of having to talk anymore. It's not that you don't love your roommate. But you'd rather crawl in bed and stay there for a month if it meant that you didn't have to socialize with any humans in the meantime.

You successfully shuffle all the way into your room and drop your things next to your desk before the TV shuts off. Your roommate's footsteps echo throughout the apartment, and then there's silence and the feeling of someone hovering in the doorway behind you.

"I'm worried," she says, and you sigh, your shoulders dropping as you turn around.

"I'm fine."

She hums a no and gestures at your room.  You've let piles of dirty clothes take over most of the floor. There's about six different cups scattered on different surfaces, all with varying levels of water in them. Only one of the candles is lit. Her eyes find yours again, and you can't help but look away. "You've been locked in here all weekend. And most of last week too. I know he hasn't been by. He hasn't even called. What's up?"

You shrug helplessly, and the same way they do any time you think of Five, your eyes betray you and start to water.

"You don't know?" she presses, and you shake your head, looking off to the side, trying to get yourself under control. She walks into the bedroom then, coming around to sit on the edge of your bed and stare up at you. "Talk to me, Y/N. Seriously, I'm worried about you, and I don't know what to do."

"I--" your voice feels too thick, and you're having a hard time keeping it even as it comes out. "It's over." Your roommate's eyebrows draw down in sympathy as do the corners of her mouth.

"He ended it."

You shake your head and swallow. "I did." The pitch is too high now.

"Why?" your roommate's voice softens in response to yours, and it's then that you break, face crumpling, tears falling, and a broken sob escaping. She doesn't say anything more, instead rising from the bed and wrapping her arms around you from the side, leaning her head against your shoulder.

It takes an embarrassing amount of time to stop crying. Then again, any time spent crying over a boy who you weren't dating and never made any promises in terms of feelings or commitments was embarrassing. But, when you do slow down, you finally find the words to tell her everything. What happened while she was away. Your trip to the bar and what you discovered. Your fight. She listens and doesn't say anything, instead doing the one thing that you need most from her: she doesn't let go.

You look less like shit.

But you still feel awful.

It's been just over a week since your fight with Five, and you feel like you should be over it by now. The disappointment, the embarrassment, the hurt. But you're not. Sure, you don't exactly feel like an open wound anymore. But you feel a bit like someone's just put a single layer of gauze on top, and that's not nearly enough.

So, you decide there's only one course of action that will make you feel better on this Saturday morning: Griddy's Doughnuts.

Just walking into the shop makes you feel lighter. The sweet smell of the different glazes and jellies wafts through the air, and kids are crammed up against the doughnut case and perched on stools with their parents. Walking into the place is like a time warp--it feels exactly the same way it did all those years ago when you were the kid tugging at her mom's hand.

And then you make accidental eye contact, and it all shatters. Because the brown eyes you're staring into belong to none other than Vanya Hargreeves.

You pull over to the side of the line to do the right thing and make brief small talk. If it hadn't been for two occasions where she'd come home sooner than planned, you wouldn't be in this situation. She wouldn't recognize you. But this girl's seen you half naked and spoken to you several times over the phone. She knows more of you than you wish she did. She probably feels the same way. Regardless of the willingness either of you have to engage in this conversation, she's coming over, bag of doughnuts and tray of coffee in hand.

"Y/N, hi," she greets, offering a nervous looking smile.

"Hi," Your own attempt at a smile is disastrous. It's too tight and it doesn't reach your eyes. It hardly even reaches your cheekbones. "Seems like we had the same idea for breakfast."

She nods, looking down at the bag in her hand. "Yeah. We have this family tradition to grab Griddy's whenever one of us--"  she stops then, seeming to remember who she's talking to and restarts with a safer question. "How are you?"

Vanya's voice sounds the way Griddy's smells--like nostalgia and comfort and it makes you ache inside. You want to know how her sentence was going to end, but you want out of this conversation more.

"I'm fine," It comes out more of an exhale than a word, and she seems to see right through it.

She nods, her smile taking on a sad quality. "You and Five both then. Guess we did get the same memo about Griddy's."

A silence seeps in between the two of you, and you hate the way this feels--like you're drowning in the middle of a swimming pool and trying not to call attention to it.

"I don't want to pry--" She must see you go rigid because she seems to decide on a different route. "I don't know what happened, but I'm sorry it didn't work out. I know you guys cared a lot about each other."

You don't know how to respond to that. You're not sure if you want to be the fool who fell in love with her friends with benefits or the slut who was just in it for phenomenal sex or the bitch who points out Vanya's brother is a heartless bastard and doesn't deserve doughnuts because he clearly never gave a damn. She must catch the crease between your eyebrows, your lips instinctively puckering into a qualification, because she saves you from responding.

"Look, I know Five can be...a lot. And I don't know what he did, but I can tell it was big and it wasn't good." She looks like she wants to reach out and touch you, but her hands--thankfully--are full. "But you should know, he checks the answering machine every day."

It stings. He still thinks you'll call.

And you almost have.

You can't look at her open and earnest face any longer, so you look down at the ground and nod dumbly. "Thanks." She stays in front of you, and you can feel that she wants to break the silence again.  You swallow hard and force yourself to meet her gaze once more. "Well, I don't want your coffees to get cold. It was nice to run into you, though, Vanya."

She nods, her mouth settling into a line. "Take care of yourself, ok?" she asks, and you lift your lips into half a smile because it's just about as much as you can manage. She nods once more and then turns and leaves the doughnut shop. You get in line.

Your roommate decides it's time for you to leave the house.

You point out that you leave the house almost every day.

She argues that leaving for work doesn't count. It's been two weeks and you need to have fun.

You insist that if you're going to have fun, it's not going to be on a Tuesday.

She informs you that there will be dollar tacos where she's going.

That's how you end up at Don Pablo's at eight o'clock on a Tuesday night with your roommate and two other friends all crowded around a table. It's hard to say what it is, the dollar tacos, the strong margaritas, the good company or the Spanish covers of pop songs, but whatever the reason, you're feeling lighter than you have. You're even laughing as your friend, Faith, updates you on the latest antics of the passive aggressive post-it queen at her work.

"That is...one hell of a story," someone to the right of your table says, and the eyes of the group look up to a lanky man with shoulder length brown hair. He's wearing a mesh crop top that sparkles a little under the light and leather pants that leave absolutely nothing to the imagination, a fact that's captured Sam's attention.

The man pushes off from where he's leaning against the coat rack, and it's a testament to Faith's storytelling prowess that not a single one of you noticed him lurking there until this point. He motions for Faith to budge over, and the motion is so familiar and friendly that she scoots without protest.

"So," he says, resting his chin in both of his palms. "Which one of you radiant young ladies is Y/N?"

The words are objectively skeevy, but much like his admittance to the table, this earns nothing but a few snorts and smiles. He's also smiling like he's in on the joke, and it's genuine and sparkling rather than leering. You're half tempted to tell him, but your roommate stops you.

"Why?" Nasreen asks, raising an eyebrow.

"Because she's the one person who will save us from my brother's broody pining," he says with a faux pout.

Nasreen's eyebrows lift even higher. "Isn't it a little middle school of your brother to send you over here for him?"

He chuckles and lifts his head, shaking a finger at your roommate. She grins back at him. "Yes, it would be, but he very expressly told me not to come over here. I'm here looking for Y/N of my own free will." He glances around the table and steals a chip out of your basket, dipping it into the salsa. "Technically," he says, crunching down on the chip. "I'm risking my life for this."

Sam laughs and the man grins, reaching for another chip. "It's true. He said, and this is a direct quote, 'Klaus, if you go over there, I will drive this tiny umbrella through your eyeball until it hits that thing you call a brain and puts us all out of our misery.'" He pops the chip into his mouth and gives a dramatic eye roll. "Very eloquent, my brother."

Your friends laugh at this, even Nasreen, but you grow cold. Because you know one person with a brother named Klaus.

"So," Klaus bounces his shoulders once, sitting up straighter. "Who am I sacrificing myself for?" He looks around the table pleasantly just as Sam glances at you. It's a small motion, but Klaus latches onto it. "Ah," Klaus says gesturing toward you. "I'm going to need you to come fuck my brother."

Faith spits out her margarita. Sam barks out a sudden laugh. Nasreen blinks and draws back into the booth.

"I know he's an emotionally stunted little asshole, but he's been even more insufferable than usual, and Vanya says it's because of you." He drops his hand onto the table, relaxing back into the booth. "Obviously, he's the one at fault--you seem like an angel. But it would mean the world if you would come fix our little shitheel."

It's the name Vanya that brings Nasreen up to speed.

"I'm vetoing this right now," your roommate says, shaking her head. Klaus presses his hands together and points them at her.

"Your objection has been heard and noted, but let's hear from Y/N."

All of the eyes on the table are on you, and dollar tacos isn't enough to redeem this moment. You shake your head slowly. "No."

"No," Klaus repeats. He seems surprised.

"No, I'm tired of being fucked over so Five can feel better. No." Your roommate's approval radiates over you, strengthening the feeling. Faith and Sam straighten up at the mention of Five.

Klaus heaves a sigh and leans back to rest his head on the top of the booth's cushion. "I don't blame you, but I don't want to go back over there," he says to the ceiling. "Not only is he going to publicly murder me, but he'll probably drive me up this stucco painted wall with his moodiness before he does it." He lolls his head to turn to Faith. "Can I stay here with you?"

Faith laughs a little, looking at the rest of you.

"Depends," your roommate says, leaning on the table.

"On?" Klaus raises an eyebrow.

"If the next round is on you."

When you stumble into your apartment, it's a little past 1 am, and you're not so much as drunk as you are high on a good time. Allowing Klaus to stay at your table had been the best decision you'd made in the past...month? Maybe longer. Not only had he supplied you with enough good stories to take your mind far away from Five (whose gaze you could feel once you knew it was there) but Klaus had also pulled each of you up to salsa with him despite the fact that it wasn't a dance bar at all. Still, several other couples from different tables had followed his lead, and you'd allowed yourself to be spun and turned about until your legs were ready to collapse.

It's hard to imagine that anything can bring yourself down from this feeling as you place a kiss on your roommate's cheek and thank her for dragging you out.

Then again, you hardly imagined Five would be popping into your bedroom at 1:30 in the morning.

His hair is wild, eyes are hazy, and he looks more disheveled than you've ever seen him. "You were there. You were there and Klaus came over, and what the fuck?"

You've never heard so many nonsensical words come out of his mouth.

"Are you...drunk?" you ask, dumping your clothes at the door to your closet.

"Figured that one out," he says, gesturing flailingly at you.  "I got drunk because that's what you do when the one person in this world who doesn't make your life worse won't even look across a bar at you." He says.

You, for your part, remain silent, head tilted, trying to make sense of what's going on--how much of this is him and how much of it is the alcohol. Because you can't believe he's this upset--Five doesn't seem to do emotions other than stressed, horny, and smug.

He sways a bit. "You were right there. Right there. And you didn't even look at me. Not even when fuckin' Klaus went over."

"I didn't realize you cared that much," you say quietly.

Five scoffs. "Why else would I spend five days hunting down your ex just so you could get your closure."

You blink several times at this fact, but you don't have time to formulate some sort of response before he continues. "Do you know how many Jordan Millers there are in this city?"

"You--what?" The words come out as hardly more than a disbelieving whisper.

"Five days and perfect planning to get you there and have it all work out at just the right moment, only for you to end it. No reason. You just ended it."

You swallow hard and then fix him with a stare. Because he's right--he should at least have a reason. "I didn't end it because of Howl's." You pause, and he takes it as the end of the sentence because he continues on.

"I don't even know what happened. I keep trying to work it out. It's all I can fucking think about, and I can't figure it out. You wanted just sex, so I gave you just sex. You wanted to show up your ex, so I made sure you could show up your ex." His voice takes on a hysterical quality as he starts to pace the room. "What am I missing? Please, enlighten me. Because Vanya and Allison are up my ass about trying to fix things with you, and hell if I know where to begin."

"You can't fix this," you shake your head and then wet your lips, steeling yourself up for the most embarrassing truth. "I ended it because I wanted more, and you didn't."

He pauses and then lets out a manic laugh. "So you left because you wanted to be with me?"

"I left because I thought it was just sex to you, and that's all it would ever be."

"That's all it was supposed to be," he says, not stopping his pacing.  "That's what we both wanted."

"Wanted," you repeat, quietly. "Wants change."

He lets out a manic laugh. "Oh, I know that," he says and stalks closer to you. "Why else would I be here right now, still trying to figure out what you want so I can give it to you instead of fucking any of the girls who came up to me tonight?"

You blink a few times, and this has to be an exhaustion induced delusion, because there's no way he's saying what you think he's saying.

"What are you talking about?" you ask, quietly. He doesn't answer, instead closing the remainder of the distance, pulling your body flush against yours and kissing you.

He tastes like margaritas. His kiss is as intoxicating as the alcohol itself, the sensation rushing through your body and urging you to relax into him. He's only kissed you four times before, and all of those were different. In those kisses his hands ran over your body, pushing at your clothes, his frame walking you back towards the bed. But now he's solid, and his hands are still, a vice keeping you close to him as his lips remain on yours.

It takes an extraordinary strength of will to extract yourself from his kiss. "Don't do this," you whisper, your lips brushing his since he's chased after your kiss.

"Why?" he pulls you even closer, pressing another kiss to your lips.

"Because you don't mean this," you say, bringing your hands in between your bodies to push him away. "You're drunk and you're lonely and…"

"And I want you," he says, not moving, ducking his head to kiss you again.

"No you don't."

The words make him step back angrily. "I don't know how to make it any fucking clearer," he says, raking a hand through his hair. "I want you. I want you Y/N. I wish I didn't. I wish things would go back to being just sex. Because my life was so much easier then. But they can't. Not for you and not for me. You want more. I want you. So why won't you just accept that and let me kiss you?"

As far as romantic speeches go, it's pretty shitty.

"Fine," you say.

It's an equally shitty romantic response.

But then he's kissing you again, and you let yourself lean into the hope that maybe, come morning, he'll still mean what he said.

When you wake up, Five's gone.

The other side of the bed is tucked in tightly, like he was never even there. But you know he was. Because if he wasn't, there's no reason for your whole body to ache inside and out. It's tempting to stay in bed and throw yourself a mix of pity party and roast. After all, last night you exhibited top tier dumbassery.

But you're tired of feeling like shit. So you drag yourself out from under the covers and towards your door, hoping that some coffee and a warm breakfast will help you to feel better.

You pad out the door and down the short hallway to come out to the kitchen where your roommate is pouring herself a cup of coffee.

“My head hurts like a sonofabitch,” she says, reaching into the cabinet to grab down a mug for you. “You?”

You give a rueful smile and head over to stand next to her by the coffeepot. “Surprisingly, I’m ok. Better than yesterday.”

“Good,” she says, filling your mug up.

Your toilet flushes, and both you and your roommate look at each other. The silent question is answered not long after as there, appearing in the doorway, still wearing yesterday’s clothes and looking a bit disheveled, is Five.

It’s the first time your roommate has ever seen him.

“Uh…hello?” your roommate says, and Five nods at her, moving forward to steal your mug of coffee. He lifts it to his lips and takes a long sip.

“You’re…here,” you say dumbly, and he nods, drinking some more coffee.

“It’s where I want to be.”

Your roommate looks between the two of you. “And you are…”

“Five,” he says over his coffee, and your roommate looks between the two of you wildly before finally settling you with a significant look.

“You’re going to have to make more coffee, and explain all of this to me,” she says, circling a finger at Five.

You look at him, a small twist of a smile on your lips. “Fine with me.”

[blossom-hwa]

hi! i really liked your sungyoon fanfiction, light the pyres—apocalypse aus are great. very nervous to ask for your 4th anniv event but could i perhaps get kang yeosang + the title "3 of hearts?" (if anyone reading here knows what show it's from ily!)

hi love! light the pyres is actually one of the works I'm most proud of so it makes me so happy to hear that you liked it! thank you for your request - I'm not sure what 3 of hearts it from lol (maybe one of my followers does), but I hope you still enjoy this!

4 year anniversary drabble game: send me a Stray Kids/The Boyz/Golden Child/Ateez member + a prompt (check out the post for ideas) and I’ll write a drabble for you!

I guess this could be seen as a sort of spinoff of Kingdom (read the series here) - I haven’t posted the next parts yet, but this takes place in the Queendom of Hearts, which is where Checkmate is set :D like Kingdom, it’s heavily inspired by Marissa Meyer’s book “Heartless” - the story of a queen who went mad over love >:)

Uh so TXT Yeonjun is technically here but please don’t take my characterization of him as anything even close to who he is irl.... just think of it as me taking just his name and slapping it on a character I made I’m sorry

~

Title: Three of Hearts

Pairing: Yeosang x gender neutral!reader

Word count: 1.6k

Triggers: mentions of blood and death (semi-graphic)

~

They said you were born under the three of hearts, a spell of kind fortune, a card of good omen. "Your child will be beautiful," the diviner said when she placed you in your mother's arms. "They will love deeply, and in return, they will be loved greatly."

It was a blessed birth for the Kingdom of Hearts, whose rulers, though loved, had not been able to secure an heir for many years. Already the conception of a child was a miracle - to have you born under such an auspicious card only heightened the excitement, cast even more light on a day already filled with laughter and joy. Your parents showered you with love, and as the years passed, you grew in blissful happiness, surrounded by those who adored you. And truly, it seemed you were the three of hearts personified - for with you were two boys, Yeosang and Yeonjun, your best friends, who followed you everywhere you went. 

It was inevitable, then, people whispered, that at least two of you would fall in love. 

At the age of six, seven, ten, even twelve, you could ignore this. You could play the innocent card that came so easily to those born under the three of hearts, bat your eyes and cock your head and ask “What do you mean?” in reply to the questions people asked - do you have a crush? I’m sure you do. It must be on one of the boys you’re always running around with, yes? But as you grew older and the question of to whom you would extend your hand in marriage became increasingly important, your eyes began to fixate on soft blond hair and warm brown eyes, smile widening in the presence of a deep, gentle voice accompanied by the loveliest sparkle in his eyes. 

The traits of a certain best friend and heir to the Kang family fortune. 

He offers a courtship under the flowering wisteria tree just under your window, pale cheeks tinted with blush as he stutters his way through a short confession. Your heart warms, lifts, bursts with joy as you accept with a smiling nod, rejoicing that you have found a match who will love you as much as you love him. Three of hearts, you think giddily - I will be loved as much as I give it.

The stages of courtship seem to pass by all too slowly and at the same time, all too quickly. Caught up in a whirl of fine clothes and presents and ceremonies, you fall asleep every night eager to wake at dawn, if only to see Yeosang’s face the next day. Every moment with him seems too short, and every moment with him feels too long. 

One afternoon under the wisteria tree, you complain of this. Yeosang laughs at your indignation, though when you go to hit his shoulder, he catches your fingers with soft, warm hands, before kissing your forehead gently. “It will be all right,” he murmurs, pulling away just enough for you to see the sparkle in his eyes. “We’ll have a lifetime together, after this.”

A lifetime. Born under the three of hearts, destined for a life of love and happiness, you believed it. 

So much, in fact, that you forget to watch out for the second best friend at your side. 

It never occurred to you to take caution with Yeonjun. He was your best friend. Even upon the announcement of your engagement, he only ever smiled and congratulated the two of you, knocking your heads together teasingly when you got too mushy for his taste. Yeosang even asked him to be one of the groomsmen when the wedding date was set. 

So you never notice the way Yeonjun’s gaze always lingers on you a little too long, the way his eyes darken whenever you place a chaste kiss on Yeosang’s lips. You do notice that he spends more and more time away from you, away from Yeosang as the wedding approaches, but it’s easy to put it down to affairs of the Choi family that you simply aren’t privy to. Perhaps something has gone wrong. Yeonjun would tell you about it in due time, wouldn’t he?

On the night before your wedding, you and Yeosang dance together under a sea of sparkling stars, white engagement outfits shimmering under the night sky. The people cheer. Your parents wipe away tears. You almost cry, too, wrapped in the warmth of Yeosang’s arms around your waist, his eyes smiling into yours. 

You part ways with promises of tomorrow and a lifetime hanging on your lips. When you finally fall asleep, it is to dreams of a beautiful future, complete with Yeosang by your side. 

Instead, you wake up in a world where he is dead.

They say the servant who found the body went mad afterward. You don’t blame them. When you saw the body covered in its rips and stains of red, it felt like a part of your mind simply disappeared. Scrambled. Something. All you could see was the body splashed with blood, unseeing eyes wide open and glassed with the sheen of death. 

And there’s no time to grieve, either, because the next day, the Choi family storms the castle with shouts of a coup and rebellion on their lips. 

All you can do is stare into Yeonjun’s stony expression as he orders the execution of your parents right before your eyes. 

He finds you in your rooms a week later, a beautiful prison of silk and satin that they took away so you wouldn’t hang yourself before he came. His eyes soften upon seeing you, but when he reaches out a hand, you slap it away. 

Only one word leaves your lips. “Why?”

Love, he says. Love for you. Love that burned fierce, hot, so unlike the soft warmth of Yeosang’s hand, love that burned so bright it couldn’t stand to fall second to the gentleness of Yeosang’s smile. His heart burned for you, beat for you, enough to plan all of this, enough to ask, even now - 

“Will you marry me?”

The wisteria tree outside your window is in full bloom under a bright, cloudless sky. A mockery of the day Yeosang asked for your hand and you gave him your heart. 

In the absence of blades and bullets, no one should underestimate the power that fingernails can do to raw skin and bone.

“You worthless, worthless human being,” you snarl, even as guards drag you back from Yeonjun’s bleeding face. “Worthless - worthless - I will never marry you -”

“You will,” Yeonjun snarls back, now a safe distance away from the blood caking your nails. “You will or you will die.”

You don’t die. You almost do, jamming the lock on your door and smashing the fortified window with a superhuman strength you believe Yeosang and your parents have lent you for one night, just one night before leaping into the branches of the wisteria tree, crashing to the ground in a heap of branches and flowers and glass. They nearly catch you - an arrow pierces your shoulder and another streaks so close it almost cuts off your ear - but you escape. And hide. For days, weeks, months...

Until you return with a sword and murder in your eyes, slashing through every guard on your way into the castle until you come across Yeonjun sitting upon your father’s throne, the crown of your family on his head. 

“Would you?” he whispers, the tip of your sword positioned over his heart. “Would you, truly?”

A blank smile curves your lips. “Of course,” you whisper. “Just the same way you would.”

They crown you queen with triumph in their eyes, songs of a royal who avenger their lover’s death when a jealous suitor got in the way. You listen to it with stony eyes and teeth gritted behind your lips, especially when they speak of the three of hearts, blessed above all, destined for a life of love -

There is no love left in your heart that wasn’t taken away with the death of Yeosang and your family.

You execute the Chois. You execute their allies. You root through the kingdom, imprisoning those with even a semblance of a relationship to the man who killed your love, who took the blessing of your card away. The songs die away, replaced by whispers of a queen gone mad with the loss of their love. Triumphant shouts of a blessed three of hearts turn into murmurs of a curse, a new meaning to your card - perhaps not one destined for love, but one whose life will end in tragedy. Pain. Suffering.

They are wrong. Your life was full of love, love that you gave on your own and love that was given by those around you. It was the cause of your happiness and the reason for your suffering - love killed Yeosang and your family, just as it killed the last bit of humanity in you. 

The words of the diviner mock your grief. 

“Your child will be beautiful.”

Not as beautiful as he ever was. 

“They will love deeply.”

Where did that get you? 

“And in return, they will be loved greatly.”

Where did that get him?

No longer do they speak of the three of hearts as a blessing, as a sign of blissful omen. Instead, they speak of it as a curse, a curse of love, a curse of madness, a curse of tragedy to follow at every bend. 

Good. They’re right.

The love that the heavens wrought never brought anything more than pain, anyway.

[the-ace-with-spades]

(6/6) the best is yet to be

five times someone realized Ronan and Adam were basically married and one time they actually were

Part 1 │Part 2 │Part 3 │Part 4 │Part 5 Read on ao3

They were getting married.

It wasn't exactly planned — any part of it, really, all just came up on its own or spiraled into place after years of floating in the air. Adam came from his final year earlier than expected — than Ronan expected, really, apparently Adam planned it to be a surprise — having taken a heavier workload in the first semester and finishing his dissertation in March. He had told Ronan he would miss Easter and he did, coming only two days later.

It was the beginning of April and the weather that week had been unexpectedly good and they sat in the fields, Ronan was braiding his third flower crown — one had been eaten by Opal, one was on Adam's head.

"It's so warm in Virginia," Adam said, directing his face into the sun. He always complained about Harvard being cold, no matter how many blankets and sweaters Ronan had sent him. "It's the most dream-like part here. We should get married in spring and have a wedding in the meadows, it would look like from a Victorian novel."

He said it way too casually to justify Ronan's heart attempting to escape his ribcage at such alarming speed. He also didn't add anything, just leaned further on his elbows, touching Ronan's shoulder with his forehead.

Ronan didn't even think before he got up, making Adam fell on his face, and told him, "Fucking wait here and don't move even an inch."

It took him twenty minutes to run to the house, throw away all the cookbooks from the shelf in the kitchen — the shelf Adam was forbidden from touching after his third attempt at crêpes — grab a small cardboard box from behind the backboard, and run back. Making his way through the meadow, he wished he had put it in something better-looking and not just left it in the same box he picked it up from the jewelry shop.

Adam was still sitting where he left him, this time with Opal on his knees, showing her how to finish the flower crown Ronan abandoned.

Ronan felt his hands sweat.

He kneeled down.

Adam stared at him, his arms going limp around Opal. He frowned. "Ronan?"

He said it so softly Ronan could feel his heart growing at the sound.

When he resized the ring — one of his mom's, one of the few she wore outside of her wedding band — he had told himself that he will make a plan. At first, he thought about taking Adam to Lindenmere, but they were there too often for it to be something special and Ronan wanted it to be something special. He thought about restaurants and hikes and dreamt fireworks and writing it on a cow's fur and going on a boat on the lake. He thought about putting the ring in a birthday cupcake — although with Ronan's luck, Adam would choke on it — or in a flute of champagne — Adam didn't drink alcohol — and he thought about a hundred different foods he could cook for him. It all didn't seem right, seemed overly cheesy or normal or conventional, and they were anything but that.

Adam was anything but that.

So Ronan kneeled there, in the meadow full of spring flowers and fresh grass, and both of his knees were getting wet from the muddy ground and he had the most gorgeous view of Adam's face drawn by a flower crown made of buttercups, golden ragworts, and with Virginia bluebells falling onto his forehead and ears. With his warm complexion and light freckles and even warmer blue eyes, Adam looked like the spring personified.

They had to marry in spring.

"Fuck," he said finally. "I don't know what to—how to..."

Adam turned around to the side more, Opal's head falling more onto his right shoulder. They were both looking at him, the same shade of blue piercing through Ronan's soul.

Adam raised one hand to his face, stroking his thumb over Ronan's cheekbone. "Hey," he said. "You don't have to."

He did have to.

Ronan ripped the box, throwing the scraps on the ground.

"Marry me."

Adam's hand moved down, curving around Ronan's nape. "Of course."

It wasn't a question and it wasn't a yes, but—

But it was enough and they were engaged. And Adam Parrish, the boy of his dreams, was his fiancé.

When they got back home — and Ronan hadn't let go of Adam's hand the whole time, even when Ronan protested saying she wanted them to swing her back and forth between them — Adam stopped in the foyer.

"Go wait in the kitchen," he said and went upstairs in a quick stride.

So Ronan did. He made them coffee and sat down, suddenly feeling nervous, the tension fleeting back into his tightly wound shoulders.

Adam came back downstairs, sat on the other side of the table with a grin.

"I got you a ring too," he said, lying a velvet box onto the table. "I was going to propose on my graduation day."

He opened the box. It was a simple black gold ring with Celtic engraving but it must have cost at least a month of unstopping hard work, divided between a longer time — it meant so much more if one knew the true value.

The room suddenly seemed very quiet, Ronan could only hear the humming coming from their old fridge and his own thoughts sprinting through his head.

Ronan started crying.

It was an involuntary response. He didn't know he needed it, needed to know that Adam wanted it as much as Ronan did, that he wanted Ronan to feel as special as Ronan wanted Adam to feel. He thought that it was implied, that he was the one to notice when Adam was ready and he was the one to propose then.

Adam was still smiling. "Is that a yes?"

"Have I ever fucking said no to you?"

Adam licked his lips. "Well, yesterday, I asked you to do the laundry and—"

"Just give me the ring, Parrish."

So Adam takes it out of the box — which was way prettier than Ronan's because it was Adam and Adam paid attention to every detail, always — grabs Ronan's hand with an unbelievable gentle touch and puts the ring on his finger.

He leaned over the table, holding Ronan's hand in both of his, and pulled it closer to his lips, kissing Ronan's in slow and light as a feather movement.

Ronan couldn't stop crying for good fifteen minutes.

The next Sunday, Ronan asked Adam to go to the mass with him. He had never asked before but Adam sometimes came with him — when he was back from Harvard only for the weekend and didn't want to leave Ronan even for an hour — and Ronan always celebrated it deep within his heart. He didn't tell him why he wanted him to come with him.

The mass ended, people started to leave and Ronan went the opposite way, to Father Cohen who was still standing at the front of the altar.

"Boys," he said, despite the two of them being twenty-three. "I haven't talked to you in a while. How are you doing?"

Adam opened his mouth to say something that was probably polite and good-natured, but Ronan said instead, "When is the closest opening for a marriage ceremony?"

Adam turned around and raised his eyebrow. Father Cohen didn't look any less surprised than him either, wide-eyed, his mouth open but not making a sound.

"Let me grab our calendar," he said after a very long silence. He was clearly stunned that Ronan, who he had known since he was about two and was brought to church for the first time, was getting married.

Ronan was stunned too.

He left to the sacristy in a daze and Adam, as soon as he was out of sight, asked, "What are you doing?"

"What? You said you want a spring wedding. It's spring."

Because St. Agnes was a small church, Father Cohen gave them a list of dates that weren't open, rather than the open ones. It consisted of a whole total of three dates in the next three months, the first open spot being in two weeks.

Ronan said they would take it.

They — or rather Ronan, seeing as Adam was still so shellshocked that Ronan felt like he was tricking him into this marriage — thanked him and Ronan gave Father Cohen Adam's email to forward them any documents they needed to fill.

They were outside the church and Adam still didn't say a word.

"If you don't want to get married now—"

"Do you know how much paperwork it's going to be?" Adam interrupted him.

Ronan blinked, very slowly and — if he dared to admit — fondly. This was the man he chose to marry. The man who agreed to marry him. Who asked him to marry him back.

"Are you fucking serious?" he asked. "This is what you're worried about? We just have to get the marriage license and we're done."

Done sounded like this was something Ronan was forced into.

"Yeah, but I'll have to call DMV, SSA, my bank," Adam listed off. "I'll have to pay for the last-minute change of my diploma if Harvard even lets me change it so close to graduation."

He wasn't making sense. "What? Are they suddenly adding married to on a diploma?"

Adam scrunched his eyebrows in the manner that always made Ronan want to kiss his forehead — he would always do that when dealing with someone stupid.

"No, but I'd prefer not to deal with the explanation why my name doesn't match the one on my diploma to any of my future employers."

Oh. Oh.

"You want to—like, take my name?"

Adam smacked his side. "Don't be an idiot," he said, frowning. "Of course I—I mean, unless you don't want me to—"

"I want you to," Ronan replied instantly.

"Well, then you're helping me fill all those documents."

They filled the paperwork Father Cohen sent Adam and went to the courthouse the next day, getting a marriage license and leaving it, and newly bought wedding bands, in church on the way home.

Then came the first problem — telling everyone.

They had been sitting on the couch, both of their phones on the coffee table in front of them, and argued about who was going to tell Gansey.

It was, technically, not a big deal. Gansey would be, in the end, happy for them, but in the end was the keyword here — it'd be proceeded by a rant, a scolding, lots of detailed questions like, why didn't you tell us sooner, and none of them knew how to answer them. Calling Blue would result in the same outcome, as Gansey was bound to butt into the conversation once Blue forwarded the message.

"Maybe we just don't fucking tell him and the maggot," Ronan suggested.

"And how is gonna know to show up for the wedding?"

Ronan groaned, hitting his forehead on Adam's shoulder. Repetitively.

"Maybe I'll just text him," he added. "Or you text him. He's used to being ghosted by you after you text him."

This wasn't actually such a horrible idea so Ronan took his phone, typed out something that would have minimal detail, showing it to Adam, who retyped something else.

The final result was, bring maggot and cheng next sunday to the barns at 1. wear something nice.

Ronan sent the text. Gansey called him within three minutes. Ronan declined the call. Gansey called Adam after another two minutes, which he also declined. Instead, Adam texted Maura, with the same but slightly more polite message.

It left them with Declan and Matthew.

"They are your brothers," Adam said when Ronan suggested he could call them.

"I texted Dick," he countered. "It's your turn."

"It's your turn," Adam mocked. "Is this how it's gonna be for the rest of our life?"

Ronan grinned. The rest of their life sounded so good. "Yeah, get used to that."

Adam bit his lip, holding himself back from grinning back. "Fine."

Adam texted Declan, Church is at 1 30 next week, be at the Barns at 1, kind of lying. The important thing was, Ronan didn't have to deal with Declan. If he was the one to send such a text, Declan would inevitably start calling him as soon as he read it, not giving up until Ronan picked up or straight up driving from DC just to know what was going on.

Which put them on Sunday next week, preparing for the arrival of everyone.

They had prepared the meadow the day before, taking a dreamt stretchable tent there and carried the grill there, among with the living room table and chairs and a dreamt stereo that connected to Spotify despite now electricity or no Internet connection. The field now turned mostly yellow, with occasional bluebell here or there, but it was still an amazing view — Ronan planned to make another flower crown for Adam, once they were already married. Right now they left the tent without food, watched by Chainsaw who soared in circles, sitting on the table from time to time.

It was cozy, probably cozier than even the smallest wedding receptions were but Adam would never agree to have a big party in some rented venue and Ronan hated any venue he had looked up online. It suited them.

Opal was ready, dressed first out of the three of them. She had insisted she wanted to be a flower girl — they didn't even know she knew what that was — and allowed them to put herself in a better-looking pair of culottes and a white shirt.

She had a fool basket of dandelions and buttercups ready — hidden, so she wouldn't eat it before they even left for the church — and probably was already muddy, seeing as she left the house as soon as Adam told her she was done.

It left Ronan and Adam, squeezing in front of the main bathroom mirror while they both put on their suits.

"So, how pissed Dick will be?"

Adam didn't look at Ronan when answering, concentrating on making his tie straight instead. Ronan planned to crook it again as soon as he was done.

"Gansey? He'll be fine, he is used to you, isn't he," he said. "I'm more worried about Blue. Or your brother."

Declan. It was clear he meant Declan.

They had become better over the years, to the point that Ronan could finally, without any guilt or any anger, call him family. The first time he had referred to him just as his older brother and not his dickhead older brother, about two years ago, Ronan was taken aback but not with an unpleasant aftertaste. They talked about the stuff that made them angry and about their dad, but he still could easily come off as judgemental towards Ronan's impulsive life decisions and Ronan had never really learned what he thought about him and Adam, and those two things were unvaryingly connected in this case.

"You don't think he will, like, leave?"

Adam turned around, his full attention on Ronan. His face softened in a way that used to be foreign as he took Ronan's face into his hands.

"No, Ronan, of course he won't," he said. "I'm sure he's going to have gray hair before he turns twenty-seven, but he won't leave. Jordan would make him sleep on the couch if he did."

He smiled at Ronan, the reassuring kind of smile that was mostly transmitted through his eyes.

Ronan grabbed one of his palms and kissed it. Then he crooked Adam's tie.

Fifteen minutes before everyone was about to arrive, Ronan and Adam sat down on the porch. Opal was sitting in the grass behind the banister, her pants already a bit muddy, observing snails. Or maybe eating them.

The first car came, the obnoxious orange of it visible from the beginning of the long driveway, followed by a shiny black Volvo.

Adam and Ronan stayed seated until all seven of them were out of the cars.

"What is going on?" Blue asked.

Hennessy, Jordan, Declan, and Matthew were standing on the right of the stairs to the porch, and Gansey, Cheng, and Blue were standing on the left. Ronan felt surrounded, especially with Adam now pushing his lower back and staring at him like he wanted Ronan to begin.

Ronan was not going to begin. "You go first, Parrish."

"You shithead," he grumbled under his breath, sending him a death glare. "Can't believe I'm signing myself for an eternity of this."

Ronan's grin widened.

Loud enough for everyone to hear it, Adam said, "We're getting married."

"What?"

"In half an hour," Adam added.

And the chaos erupted.

Matty, bless his heart — and Cheng, but without the blessing — was as excited as if it was his wedding, Blue was asking, again and again, how could they not tell her, and Gansey and Declan kept on asking, shouting over each other, whether this was a joke. Hennessy had to step away because she was laughing so loud.

"I hate this," Adam told him, close to his ear. "Why did we decide to get married again?"

"So you can have a brand new name and steal my fortune?" he said, nudging him with his elbow. He got a beautiful chuckle as a reward. "Cover your ear, baby."

Ronan came to the agreement with Adam — after an argument about Murder Squash in the car — that Adam's hearing was to be prioritized and he was to avoid ear-splitting noises at all costs. So no sudden, loud noises around Adam.

Adam covered his ear and stepped aside.

"SHUT UP," he shouted with the voice of someone who trained traditional Irish singing for ten years, making everyone quiet down. "We're getting married, end of the story. You can now move along with the crowd or leave."

Ronan hoped nobody left.

Nobody left, but everyone did shut up. Blue, Gansey, and Declan were all looking like they wanted to say something still, and Jordan now looked as amused as Hennessy.

Adam stepped up closer to the stairs, grabbing Ronan's hand on the way. "Gansey, you're going to be our witness."

Ronan squeezed his hand. "And you, Dickwad," he said, clearly looking at Declan, "are our second witness."

There was a very long silence when everyone stared at Ronan as if he grew a second head, Declan, in particular, like he was about to cry. Adam squeezed his hand.

When they discussed who they wanted to be the witness at their wedding, they agreed on Gansey immediately. Declan was Ronan's first choice for the second person, Blue was Adam's. Adam wasn't surprised, even expected that apparently, but Ronan realized that while his and Declan's relationship was getting better, there was a lot that they would never fully leave behind. Ronan didn't mind that and this was supposed to convey it without using the words. Clearly, it was a very bold statement.

"I told you I should have put on a suit," Gansey broke the silence, turning to Blue. "I can't go to church just in a shirt." He had dress pants and a white shirt on.

"Jesus fuck, Dick, you're not walking Adam down the aisle, you don't need a three-piece suit," Ronan said, hoping they have somehow omitted the rant and the scolding for now.

"Yeah, but Declan might walk Ronan," Adam added with a smirk. Ronan squeezed his hand hard enough to be uncomfortable, but he didn't budge, continuing, "Opal wanted to be a flower girl so someone has to do it."

Declan still didn't say anything.

Everyone packed back into their cars, Adam managed to put Opal in her car seat without getting the mud on his white suit while Ronan grabbed her flower basket from the house.

In the church — where Calla, Maura, and Dean were already waiting — the two of them left Opal with everyone and went to Father Cohen. After that, Adam told him he would go to the bathroom before the ceremony began and asked Ronan to watch that Opal didn't eat the flowers.

"Hey," he spoke up before Adam left. "Aren't you forgetting something?"

He tapped his cheek and Adam chuckled.

"I'll be back in less than five minutes," he noticed.

"Don't care."

Adam rolled his eyes. Ronan leaned in and Adam kissed him on the cheek.

"I'll be back. In less than five minutes."

"I'm counting," Ronan told him.

He was left alone in front of the altar, what with almost everyone sitting down, Gansey having Blue adjust Dean's tie under his collar — it was too long to ever fit him properly — and with Father Cohen back at the sacristy.

It, unfortunately, left Ronan alone with Declan. "Ronan," he said.

"Yes, this is my fucking name."

He made a face. "Can you be serious for a moment?"

Ronan could, if he wanted to, but right now, he wasn't in the mood.

"Do you really want me to—to be your witness?"

This was exactly why Ronan didn't want to tell him about the wedding.

"You just have to sign your name on a stupid piece of paper," Ronan said, which was technically the truth but also not really. "It's not a big deal."

And Declan didn't say anything, just stared at Ronan with a blank face. If he wasn't so used to it, it'd make him fidget.

And then he hugged Ronan. It wasn't even the arm-clapping-his-back hug, it was the arms-around-shoulders and I'm-not-letting-you-go hug that he used to give Ronan when he didn't want to go to elementary school.

Over Declan's shoulder, he saw Jordan, giving him a two-handed thumbs up. Ronan hated all the weirdos in this family equally.

Which meant not at all.

"You will get snot on my jacket if you start crying," he said. It was probably too late for that.

Before he knew it, Matty was sandwiching the both of them in between his arms with a grip of someone who played in a college league lacrosse team, squeezing them to the point that both Declan and Ronan had to protest. Together.

Adam came back in front of the altar with Father Cohen in tow.

Ronan stood on the left side, Adam stood on the right. Declan was behind Ronan, Gansey behind Adam. Opal, right now holding their rings on a cushion that was tucked into her flower basket, was in between them.

Ronan smiled and Adam smiled back.

The ceremony began.

[caterinawriting]

The Cost of a Legacy (7)

Summary : He sees her and she’s the most beautiful thing he’s ever seen, everything perfect. Well except the fact that they’re growing up during the revolutionary war. Their love will hit many hurdles and what the future has in store may not be what they planned.

Pairing : John Laurens x Reader

Words : 3,697

October 1776, Switzerland

4 years later

Dearest Daughter,

I know my letters have been few and far between and I do apologize. I think now is a good time for you to know what our situation is, since the colonists have declared their independence, the business has collapsed.  As you know our ships to transport our “Merchandise and goods” were all harbored in London. The British government has taken those ships back and left me without a cent. I regret to inform you that I, Thomas Gavalanch have failed you, I'm sorry princess.  Our savings are also gone due to bad investments I made in the last years.

I know it's a bad situation, and because of it you have to come back. In this envelope, there is enough to get you back to New York. I know it's cruel to rip you from your world in Switzerland but unfortunately darling I can no longer pay to have you abroad. Please on your long journey back try to forgive your father. I tried to do what I thought was best.

Sincerely

Your father, Thomas Gavalanch

“What did the old man say?” She turned to John who was watching her from his seat across her room. To an outsider, the scene looked wrong, a young woman alone in her room with a man who is not her husband but to them, it was normal. This is how the last four years had been going for the two, two friends who loved- liked each other's company. And would sometimes sneak a kiss here or there, totally normal.

She turned to him and smiled, placing the letter under her pillow, “Nothing just that he misses me, and he's sorry for not writing to me as often.” (Y/n) turned back to her book in her lap, pretending that the letter didn't faze her. She stared at the page trying to concentrate on it, her mind not allowing her. When would she leave? Did her father already cancel her classes, or would she have to? Maybe Anna knew more than her, she'd have to speak to the older lady after John left. Oh gosh, John! What is she going to do, just leave him again? “Hey, are you okay?” She looked up, John now sitting next to her, her book in his hand. “Yea just, thinking of daddy. I haven't seen him in so long, he hasn't seen me in years. When I finally see him again I wonder if he'll recognize me.” John looked at her, a stare that often made her blush. “When Gavalanch sees you again he will be stunned to see what a beautiful woman you've become. He'll be sorry he missed seeing you transform from a pretty girl to a goddess of a woman.” She laughed slapping his arm, he laughed also at his comment. “I'm not lying you know? You are the most beautiful woman I've laid my eyes on. Not just that though, you are also intelligent, charming, elegant, a perfect young woman.” She blushed looking up at him.

“I actually wanted to ask you something.” He pulled out a cloth wrapped with a ribbon out of his jacket. “I don't know if you remember but for my seventeenth birthday, you sent me a letter with this ribbon. I kept it when we were apart all those months ago, I remember carrying it everywhere with me because it gave me hope we'd be together again one day. After I stopped writing to you, I still carried it everywhere with me, it comforted me like I knew you would. When you wrote to me your last letter I cried with it in my hands, and in the envelope, you sent your necklace,  the one I gifted you for your fourteenth birthday. I remember you swore to me you'd never take it off.” (Y/n) sighed, about to explain herself.

“I understand why you returned it to me, I made you feel unloved and I never want to make you feel like that again. For the rest of my life, I swear to you, on my life that you will never feel that helpless again.” He untied the ribbon to reveal the necklace, “You said to find a good wife and give this to her, well (Y/n) if you'd have me I'd like to give this to you.” She gasped, tears running down her face, and asked him the only question on her mind. “John, are you asking me to marry you?”

He smiled using his other hand to wipe her tears, “It's not proper I know, since we technically have not been courting, and I haven't asked your father. And I only have this necklace to give you- I'm doing all this wrong right. This probably isn't how you pictured it, (Y/n) what I'm trying to say is that  I do things that feel right and you and me are right. So what do you say?”

“Yes, yes John Laurens I will marry you.” He threw his fist in the air, celebrating his victory. He finally had her, John took the necklace and locked it around her neck. He turned to her capturing her lips with his, both so happy to be in that moment. He started kissing all around her face as she laughed, “John! John, oh my John.” He pushed him away, his lips still purcered. “What, I just want to kiss my fiance?” She laughed, still holding him away from her, “I have something serious to tell you.” He stopped his actions and sat still, “What could be more serious then what I just said?” (Y/n) took a deep breath, what to say.

“I lied.”

“About wanting to marry me?” His face paled. “No about what the letter said, from my father.”

“Oh thank god, continue love.” She took another breath, “I need to get back to New York, he needs help and he's asked for me to return. Were- were broke, the business is dead and he can't afford to have me here anymore. He says he's made a lot of bad investments and wants me back home.” She waited for his expression to change but it didn't, she thought hed look angry or disappointed. “Say something.” He sighed, “Well I guess I am going to have to ask Gavalanch for his blessing.” He laughed, pulling her into a hug. “Are you mad?’ She asked, her head in his chest.

“No, this is what you've waited for, to finally go home. Im happy for you (Y/n) you're going home to see Gavalanch, Angelica and her sisters I'm so happy for you.”  He said with complete sincerity. “What about you?” He snorted, “What do you mean about me? I'll be right behind you, (Y/n) you are not getting rid of me, where you go I go.” She sighed in relief, “I thought you'd be mad.”

“No, I thought originally that we'd just stay here, start our life here. But the colonies that's home. So if you're going home, so am I.” She blushed when he said starting their lives, she was engaged to a man she loved. “I love you John.”

“I love you (Y/n).”

---

“Oh Anna.” (Y/n) hugged her maid, what a mother figure she'd become for her. She wished Anna could come with her to New York but she had her own family in Switzerland. “You must visit me every chance you get dear, don't forget about the time we spent here.” She nodded hugging the older woman again, tears welling in her eyes.

“Hey, hey no crying this a happy moment! You're going home, it took long enough.” John who had just turned up with the rest of their bags. Both of them left Switzerland. “Anna I just wanna thank you for taking care of my bride to be, you've been an excellent caretaker and friend to her.” He leaned in giving her a side hug. “Of course sir, be sure to come back when you have little ones, I'd love to see your beautiful children.” They both blushed, “Of course Anna.” (Y/n) hugged her once more, the older woman gave one last goodbye and retreated up the docks.

“Are you ready?” She turned to him, frowning. “Yeah, I'll miss it here but at least you're coming with me. I just wish you could come with me now.” He sighed pushing a strand of hair out of her face, “I know but I promise after I settle things with my father in London I will be on the next ship to the colonies.” She nodded leaving up to kiss him goodbye. Hopefully not for long, she wanted him home so they could tell her father about the engagement together. She pulled away, leaning down to grab her bags. “I should get going, it's odd you know. This is like dejavu.”

“Promise me when you get home you won't leave me again.” She looked at him through her lashes, her face serious. This time things needed to be different, she couldn't live without John. “Hey, look at that necklace around your neck. If I promised I won't leave you again I wont. I promised to marry you so the only way you'll get rid of me is in death okay? When I get home to you we will tell Gavalanch and start planning our wedding okay?” She nodded, throwing herself in his chest. “Get home safe okay John.” She planted one last kiss on his cheek and turned towards her ship. “(Y/n)!” She turned to see one of the biggest smiles from John. “Honey! If I have to swim the atlantic to get to you I will.” She laughed, blowing him a kiss which he pretended to catch. He watched as she boarded her ship, before turning to the one on the other side of the harbor. He boarded watching her ship take off, he'd take care of his business in London as soon as he could and then head home to (Y/n). Now to earn his father's approval and respect.

---

Here she was back in the greatest city in the world, well in her opinion. Just being back in Manhattan made her heart feel almost complete again, only thing that was missing was John but he'd be back in a couple of weeks with the rest of her soul. For now she could deal, she couldn't wait to see Angelica, Oh! And her sisters must be so big now! She grabbed her bags and began looking around for her father. She searched the port for a while before she retreated back to her starting point. Where was he? He said he'd be here to greet her and take her home.

She sighed looking off in the distance for him, maybe he was late. ”Excusez-moi are you Miss Gvalanch?” She turned to see a very handsome man speaking to her, sounding French she thought. “Yes I am, (Y/n) Foire Gavalanch. If you don't mind me asking, who are you? Are you one of my father's helpers?” He laughed, taking her hand and kissing it. “Marquis de Lafayette, you can call me Lafayette. I do not work for you father but I was sent to bring you home.” She nodded handing him a bag, he led them to a carriage taking her other bag and tossing it in, before assisting her in. “I will eh- return in a moment.” She watched as he went up to the driver, she assumed he was telling him the direction to her home. She took notice how tall the man was, he towered over her earlier. She was trying to compare him to John who was only an  or two taller than her, Lafayette was maybe 5 inches taller than her. “Merci” He joined her inside, sitting directly across from her. “Pardon, I walked here so I had to eh- direct him.” (Y/n) nodded staring out the window taking in the scenery.

“So Foire? You know in French that means fair?” She nodded, “I took a bit of French when I was younger, I assume that's your home country?” He smirked at her, “It is my motherland, let me just say Miss Gavalanch you are foire.” He turned his head to the widow, she blushed doing the same to cover her red face.

---

“Here's your bag Sir.” John thanked the man taking his bag, here he was back in London. He looked around the port, it felt like just yesterday he had rejected Martha here, he sighed leaving the port. He had his father's address from letters from Henry, now if only he remembered how to arrive.

He approached a man, “Excuse me sir,can I bother you for directions?” The man scoffed eying John down, “Are you from the colonies?” The man asked him, John assumed he guessed by the lack of an accent. “I am? Sorry I'm just in need of direction.” The man looked angry as he towered over John, maybe he should have asked someone a little friendlier looking. A group surrounded the two of them, “Tell me boy do you think you guys can just declare independence and you're done with us? No son we own you, King George owns the colonies.” Ah, that explains it, this man was a supporter of the crown, well he assumed everyone here was. He remembered reading the Declaration of Independence by Thomas Jefferson,while in Switzerland. Written very well in his opinion.

“Well boy?” The man and his group awaited his response. “Sir I don't want any trouble, I'm just trying to see my father” The man pushed John’s chest, “You should've thought of that before you showed your face in London” The man swung first hitting John straight in the eye. John dropped his bag, he was never one to step away from a fight. He pounced at the men, delivering blow after blow, not even registering the hits the man was landing on him, he knew he was doing more damage.

In between the shouts of the crowd John heard a voice louder then the rest, “Gentleman stop this! Stop!” Another accentless person, was it who he thought? He was pulled off the man by the powerful voice and dragged out the crowd as the bystanders checked on the bloody man. John did good, he won this fight. John collected his bag and turned the man who dragged him out, “Hey thank you- Henry? Is that you?” Henry looked at the man, finally recognizing his older brother's face. “John? Brother oh my god, what are you doing here?”

“Causing trouble, what does it look like?” They laughed, as they embraced each other. “Henry you've grown so much in the last four years, I mean look at  you, you are a man now.” Henry chuckled, “Me look at you! You look so old now!” He joked, noticing his eye swelling. “Oh gosh we should ice that, you just had to approach the guy who's the most loyal to the crown right?” John laughed touching his eye, “Lead the way little brother.” Henry grabbed one of his two bags and lead his brother to his home.

“So why was that guy so pissed? Isn't the war in the colonies?” Henry sighed, “It is but you know men here tend to be very loyal to their monarchy. Most of them didn't take the news very well, calling the “United States” ungrateful. Anyone who fled here or was already living here has been treated pretty badly, that's why I put on a british accent when I need to.” He said the last part with a convincing accent, John laughed. “That's pretty good.”

“Took me four years but I did it.” They laughed, finally arriving at the home John hardly remembered. He had only spent two weeks in it before he fled to Switzerland, to (Y/n). “Is James home?” Henry shook his head, “No he's got two more hours of school, but the father is home.” John nodded taking a deep breath before being led into their home. “I'll be in my room. Father, I'm home.” He called out before running up to his room. “Okay, son!” He heard his father from the end of the hall, he assumed his study, he placed his bags down and began walking down to him. He walked up to the room, stood at the open door, and knocked, “Henry what do you need I'm busy.”

“It's not Henry.” His father turned swiftly, obviously recognizing his son's voice, “John.” His father stood up, smiling before pulling his son into his arms. “Hi Dad, how have you been?” His father pulled away taking good luck with his son, “I’m good son, my god you've grown so much, well not in height but your face looks older.” John smiled confused at that compliment, “John what are you doing here?”

“Well, I was on my way back to the colonies-”

“For the war? Oh, I knew one of my sons would fight, James is too young and well you know Henry hates confrontation. I actually mean to write to you about this-”

“No dad, well I don't know. I'm an engaged dad.” Henry's smile turned into a frown, stepping away from John. “To the Gavalanch girl I assume.” John nodded, already annoyed by his father's tone. “Yes and I'm going to marry her and we're going to start our family in the colonies.”

“Have you spoken to Mr. Gavalanch about this?” John frowned, ”No not yet, (Y/n) went ahead of me to the colonies, but when I get there we will speak to him together. Dad I came to tell you and well more importantly to get mothers' rings.” His father laughed, “You proposed without a ring?” John blushed, “Yes but mother gave me her ring when she died, I left it here. I want what's mine dad.” Henry nodded digging into his drawer pulling out the gold ring, handing it to John. “Thank you.”

“How long do you plan on staying?” Henry asked, “Only a week, just to see you and my brothers. Hopefully, clear the air and gain your support.” His father turned to the window, “It's not my approval you need John, Mr. Gavalanch never liked you much.”

“It's a good thing I'm not marrying him then.” They laughed, “Henry come down!” John was confused and watched his brother enter the office. “Yes, father?”

“Please give John the address of James school, I'm sure James would love it if you picked him up.” Henry jr. nodded explaining to his older brother how to get there. “Okay, I’ll go pick him up, and then we’ll talk more dad?” His father agreed, watch him exit.

“Are you going to tell him the rumors?” Henry Jr. asked his father.

“What? That Mr. Gavalanch has a suitor from France waiting for her in the colonies?”

“Yeah that one.” Henry Jr. looked up to his father, who smirked. “No I will not and neither will you, if you want to inherit this company you will keep your mouth shut.” Henry Jr. nodded retreating to his room, he needed to warn John some way, but how could he when his future depended on it? All he knew was that his brother needed to get home to Manhattan as soon as possible..

---

“So Lafayette, why are you in the colonies?” She asked the man, trying to kill the silence between them. “The war, I plan on enlisting soon, my father and his father fought in wars so I assume it's my time to prove myself.” She nodded already interested  by this new character.

“Why the colonies though? No disrespect to you Mr. Lafayette but the outcome of this war doesn't affect you so why fight in our battles.” He sighed making direct eye contact. “My country and yours are more similar than you think, we both crave freedom and rights. The United States has declared independence and is fighting a bloody battle for basic rights they should have already had. Those rights are different from the rights the people of France need but it's quite inspiring what's been done here. To be able to fight for something I believe in is all I want, and if I can't do it in France yet, then I'll do it here.” Flabbergasted what a speech, she could tell her was passionate about his cause too, the light in his eyes during his speech spoke for themselves. “I respect that so much Lafayette, I hope when your day in battle comes you make me-us proud.” He smiled agreeing.

“I'm actually here for something else too.” He stated. “What's that?” She cocked her head to the side.”I'm engaged.”

“Oh, congratulations Lafayette! I'm sure she's lovely, and very deserving of a gentleman like yourself.” She hoped she deserved a man like John, oh how she wished he came back with her, he would have loved Lafayette. “So, how do you know my father?”

“Well-”

“Sir. Lafayette, we've arrived.” He turned to (Y/n) silently telling her they'd finish their conversation later. He helped her step out of the carriage and ran around to grab her bags, wow here she was home. She looked at her childhood home in awe, she never thought she'd miss it. She walked in, past the wooden fence taking in the condition of her garden, gosh her father could have at least watered them. She heard the door open and there he was, Thomas Gavalanch in the flesh. “(Y/n), princess is that you?” She nodded running into his open arms, “Daddy!” He caught her giving her a big hug.

“Princess you've grown so much. Oh, sweetheart, you look just like your mother, maybe even more beautiful.” She cried into his shoulder, thanking him. She’d love to be angry but she hadn't seen him in so long she could be angry tomorrow.

“Oh, Monsieur Lafayette, thank you for escorting my princess home.” Lafayette shook his head, indicating no problem. “(Y/n) this is Marie-Joseph Paul Yves Roch Gilbert du Motier de La Fayette, Marquis de LaFayette, your fiance.” Her father said proudly, smiling at Lafayette.

“Fiance?” Maybe she could be angry today.

---

Im tired, not edited.

[trueishcolours]

My siblings and I accidentally write a Ron/Victor Krum 4th year fix it fic in the group chat

Isabel: guyS

Rewatching goblet of fire

And I have to say

How amazing would it have if

It was a LOT less gendered

And also

If Ron and Krum had got together instead of Krum and Hermione

Thomas: Oh yeah there's so much Gender  

Isabel Ron already basically has a crush on Krum

Would have been great  

Thomas: idk, he's more jealous of him in my opinion  

Isabel: Nah

He has the action figure

He says he's an artist

It's definitely there

Thomas: Tru 

Clare: I mean on a superficial level I liked the Hermione/Krum part because it made me relate that a girl who is usually uninterested in 'feminine' things might still have some anxieties and take some interest now and again, and 'this super hot guy will like You, the Nerd' is standard wish fulfilment, but honestly I could take it or leave it. A grumpy feminist could equally well read it as 'EVEN smort girls like Hermione want to be feminine REALLY uwu'

And that would be a boring analysis but the whole feminine versus not argument is boring and not what we're here for

Anyway

The Krum drama kicks off the Romione subplot and honestly I hate Romione as a ship, to me it feels forced from beginning to end

But Ron/Krum would tie in really nicely to the whole character arc for Ron that JKR started in the first book and then forgot about where he evolves into an amazing intelligent badass without noticing it

Picture: He is dooting along, vaguely bummed because he's nothing special compared to his older bros, then in book four he realises wait he DOES stand out from others because he's gay/bi/whatever but he's not sure he WANTS that because standing out for being a minority is a fucking hassle but by the seventh book he is war hero, chess master and gay icon and vaguely confused about it

Hell, you could even have Hermione go to the ball with Krum, get her girly character development in and have Ron freak out and both of them /assume/ it's about her when it's not

It would just

Be better Thomas: Queer theory saves the day once again

Clare: :D  

Isabel: JUST BASICALLY RON, ALL THE TIME, WITH A BETTER CHARACTER ARC

Thomas: I love this  

Isabel: Honestly decades later I am still just so salty about Ron's lack of development, hell, anti development. I just want everything for him

Clare: Like, not to make it automatically angsty just because it's gay but Ron being Not Straight ties in so well with his typical theme of qualities that he think make him less than Textbook Perfect actually being his great strengths (I read a great analysis that Ron actually achieves all his brothers' goals without trying or noticing)

Ron just utterly stalls as a character in the books

And Harry is a shitty friend to him by the end

She kind of pulled it back with his deathly hallows arc but it was bungled and could have come across as just bashing him

Isabel: HE IS. Ron is so taken for granted.

Clare: God, Ron is SO much less of a dick if his yelling at Hermione in book four is coming out of Sudden Repressed Realisation, not just 'woman I like is doing something I don't like'

Isabel: I watched film 4 last night and just everyone??? Is so horrible to each other??? All the time??? I swear in the books it's so much better handled

Other reasons why bi/gay Ron headcanon is important: - most masculine of the trio/ has a million big brothers so dealing with toxic masculinity/ bucking queer stereotypes in there too - an extra 'fuck you' to the whole pure blood thing which I reckon is really homophobic as it means your bloodline won't get continued or some shit - Krum coaching Ron on Keeping in bad English. Tell me it's not cute. - Ron's a linguist (he learnt parselmouth on like 2 listens)!! Tell me he wouldn't learn Bulgarian?! - just, chaotic bilingual Quidditch talk, all the time, forever?!

Clare: UM your pidgin Quiddich is now my new fave headcanon forever????? You're SO RIGHT Ron is smart, he's just not academic. He would DEFINITELY pick up a language fast if he was using it to talk to his boyfriend/about quiddich

Isabel: EXACTLY

Clare: Plus all the stuff you said about toxic masculinity and purebloodism.

MAKE THE SUBTEXT TEXTUAL, YOU COWARDS

Isabel: #giveRonaBoyfriend2k18

Also not around for the lowkey weirdness of Ron and Harry dating CANONICALLY IDENTICAL AND BORING non white girls to the Yule Ball

I know that you can overdo all this stuff but seriously the fuck

Clare: It is a bit odd and icky   

Isabel: Ok so this is what happens

Krum asks Hermione to the Yule Ball and it's like she gets her cute moment with him

But then instead of spending the whole evening being a whiny bish Ron shows un-JKR-characterisation-characteristic maturity and puts a brave face on it and talks to them both

He's upset but doesn't full on ruin their evenings

And then Hermione after the ball, (gradually realising with slight horror that she and Krum actually have literally nothing in common) kind of keeps... asking... Ron to hang out with them

And at first Ron's like lol no way am I third wheeling

But then the temptation to hang out with his literal idol becomes too strong

And he and Krum start hanging out independently of Hermione

(who's probably in the lib helping Harry study for the second task at this point anyway)

The weather is still too cold for Quidditch

Ron thinks

But somehow Ron ends up playing anyway

IN THE SNOW

WITH VICTOR

HE'S GETTING COACHED BY AN ACTUAL WORLD CUP FINAL SNITCH CATCHING PLAYER AND HE IS NOT CHILL

Clare: Hoooooly fuck this is perfect

(except he actually is because it's like -10 and snowing what the fuck Krum) Ron putting his big boy panties on and dealing during the ball, leading to him actually having an in with Krum via Hermione

I love the dynamic of Hermione just...awkwardly asking her friends to hang with them...just to break the silence...

Isabel: YEAH EXACTLY

And then them all actually having a nice evening

Clare: I mean the point of Krum with her was to get that 'YASSSS I'm dating a hot guy!' moment WHILE ALSO showing how easily it fizzles, so nothing needs to change there

Hermione could even do her 'ugh, quiddich and BOYS' routine

Isabel: Awkward because of course it is awkward what is a teenage party without angst but also, fun

yeah exactly! the slow dawning that fuuuuck, I've just brought another stupid quidditch boi into my life oh god why

Clare: Ron still knows more about the history of the game and all the technical terms than Harry so has more to talk to Krum about

Isabel: And then you know Ron and Krum stumble back into the castle with Ron wearing Krum's hat à la Chad and Ryan, and Skeeter doesn't bat an eyelid because it doesn't fit her trashy narrative

Clare: RIGHT I've got to sleep I'm getting a cold but I love this

Isabel: ok go sleep

OK ONE MORE POINT

we almost certainly get the insanely awkward 'think you're in luurve Ron' or 'lol if you love Krum so much you should date him not Hermione'! moment from either Fred or George or maybe Ginny

And there's just a kind of... missing step moment

Clare: I think all of them would do that

I mean they're pretty mean to Ron anyway, especially about love

Isabel: Exactly they're all horrible but MAYBE this would teach them!!

Clare: Exactly! It would rip the rug out from under them and they'd be like wait shit

Isabel: We are actually mean to Ron... a lot

Clare: Especially because in this timeline Ron still gets the hassle from his sibs but unlike in the main timeline where he is just butt monkey forever he has the trump card that he's got a boyfriend who's a world famous quiddich player

Like, if you're Fred, George, Ginny or even Molly you can't really come back from that reveal. Ron wins.

Isabel: Krum actually being a laser focussed guy who gives people he cares about 300% of his attention

And middle child syndrome attention starved Ron just soaks it up like a blooming Icelandic kid under a sunlamp

Ron win evertiem

Clare: Yeahhhhhh. Being a prodigy who's trained from such a young age he's got to nail that work life balance and it's like 90% work 10% life but that life is INTENSE, he's seen too many people lose their relationships because they won't switch off their metaphorical phones during dates, he gets one (1) month a year and about three (3) important people and when it is Person Time it is PERSON TIME

Right bed for eal I'm dying

Isabel: BED FOR EEL

UGH ALL I WANT IN MY LIFE IS THE 50K+ SLOW BURN QUEER 4TH YEAR REWRITE

BUT I LEGIT DON'T HAVE TIME TO WRITE IT AND I DON'T TRUST MYSELF TO GET RON POV RIGHT ANYWAY

Clare: Bebs I wish you could write it

The raw chemistry my goodness

I ship it now

Is there going to be 'you are treating me like an idol not a real person please stop' angst at any point?

Isabel: OF COURSE THERE IS

Clare: Also Krum is like 'I knew I could trust you because you are bffs with Harry Potter and you treat him like he's totally normal you must be so mature and cool he is so so lucky to have a friend like you

Or well, Krum insecurity that people only like him because of his celeb status anyway

Which is probably why he went for Hermione in the first place because she didn't give a shit

'WOULD WE EVEN BE TOGETHER IN THE FIRST PLACE IF IT WASN'T FOR QUODDICH?'

'... I love you.'

'Bro I wouldn't care if you were the worst player in the world as long as we both are fans of the sport together.'

'Bro.'

Isabel: BRUH

Also can I just ask...?

What happens in the second task??!!?

It's already messed up enough under that lake, love triangles all over the place

This would just be the final straw that resulted in everyone just shrugging and teaming up

Clare: Holy shit

Krum just doots along, takes Ron and goes

Harry's like...wait what...OK...um I guess Hermione and Ron are equally important to me so I'll just take her kk

Isabel: Krum and Ron appearing on the surface of the lake like 'fuck'

The most dramatic declaration of intent ever

Turning yourself into a shark and rescuing them from the bottom of a lake

Clare: Everybody in the stands is SHOOK

Dumbledore like dang I did not predict this

With their hair soaking wet they are both at maximum hot

Isabel: Rita Skeeter's quill combusts

Clare: Krum doesn't point her out as a beetle in Hermione’s hair he's too busy with Ron

Isabel: Yeah she's like where is my gossip at??? Nothing is happening over in Hermione's hair

But yeah I feel like Dumbledore would be like, oh darn, looks like I'm gonna have to show queer solidarity with Ronald Weasely or something

KRUM AT THE BURROW VERY SERIOUSLY COMPLIMENTING MOLLY ON HER FOOD AND ASKING FOR BRITISH RECIPES AND WINNING HER OVER IN A TRICE

Clare: Would Krum charm Molly straight away though? He's very surly and shy and, in the books, not very handsome. Wouldn't Molly start out yikes who is this quiddich yob my son has taken up with?

Ginny on the other hand. Comes out as bi a couple of years later, tells Ron she only started to realise thanks to his example, apologises for being a dick about his love life

Isabel: Yeah I guess actually

I think Molly can get fierce

Clare: She's probably got a bit of pure blood/homophobic anxiety that she cloaks as objections about THIS PARTICULAR boy

Isabel: Either she loves you and adopts you right away or she is like /pulling shotgun down from the shelf/

EXACTLY

She's like

Blaming herself, oh I should have paid more attention and NOW look what's happened

Poor Ronald, always neglected

And Ron's like... mum... this is great

I am happy

Is not problem

Clare: Ron is like I AM NOT DOING THIS FOR ATTENTION JESUS CHRIST

I mean he's probably enjoying having the attention of a quiddich super star and I bet he'd even enjoy the celebrity status of The Boyfriend a bit (best friends get sidelined but romantic partners are news) but he's not doing it FOR attention

Isabel: Yeah, and I think the suggestion that he is would just make him so mad

First confused and then mad

Oh the ANGST

Clare: Especially since that's Krums biggest anxiety

Isabel: Mr Weasely would be chill. I feel like in this whole equation he is the chillest

Clare: What would Percy say? Would social climbing or doing the done thing win out?

Also the attention thing is a way for parents to make their child's relationship all about them. Oh you want me to LOVE you more! No mum I'm growing away from you this is normal

I think Ron would get jealous around Bill and Charlie because they'd swing in all oh our brother is rebellious and has a cool boyfriend? Well we are cool rebels also welcome to the family Victor

Isabel: Yeah... I think Percy is probably pretending to be chill with it and being a bit smarmy to Krum then says something awkward and homophobic and it's worse than if he'd just said it straight up

Clare: I think a lot of Liberal but still pure blood families would take the line of, 'it's fine that you're gay...because you're the sixth son so your blood line isn't in danger and making a socially advantageous match is probably more important for you anyway! And Ron is like Y I K E S

Isabel: Yeah exactly, well I suppose you have enough sons Molly amirite

What do we think about the Krum family?

Are they just happy that their son is forming human relationships

Clare: Hmm. How do they feel about celebrity? Do they think Ron is Not Good Enough or are they actually quite a normal family and are glad Krum has an ordinary guy to keep him grounded?

Isabel: I kind of don't want Ron to have to deal with random Bulgarian disapproval

I think maybe a quite normal family who had a kid who was a genius and has been at boarding school/ travelling for years and years

Maybe Krum already came out to them so that drama is in the past

Clare: Yeah and when he brings Ron home for dinner they're just delighted that Krum is home at all and that he's happy

Yeah maybe he did

He's probably had a lot of time to introspect because of his image and maybe he's an only child?

Isabel: And Ron speaks accented but ok Bulgarian by this point and they're like !!!

Clare: I think one aspect of the large family thing that WOULD affect Ron is its just that much harder to have a private word with your parents so confiding about yourself, especially when you're not 100% sure, just isn't part of the family culture

And there's no time for introspection when you're jockeying for position with six siblings

So Krum is out to his parents while Ron isn't even out to himself

Plus Krums just that bit older

Isabel: No, when you ask for a word it's all 'yes Ron' a bit exasperated

Clare: Krum’s family are just delighted that Ron speaks Bulgarian and is a normal guy who likes their son for himself

Isabel: Maybe they have some kind of cool engineery job and Ron goes out the back and is like well my dad likes cars I will try and help

Uses his mathsy chessy knowledge

Clare: Re. Homophobia I think it is important that it's not all YOU'RE GOING TO HELL like the Muggle brand but instead is very focused on producing pure blood children. Also with the smallness of the pure blood community I bet there's a lot of, not official arranged marriage, but kind of assumed marriage, like in Pride and Prejudice or what may have happened with Prince William and Kate, like, there's three girls your age who your family's on speaking terms with who aren't your first cousins and it'll massively throw off everybody's plans if you don't marry one of them

Yes Ron helping with engineering

Isabel: Headcanon of the Krums as magical engineers with a side passion for quidditch

Clare: I bet he picks up arithmancy that way. Can't learn it in the classroom, can learn it in the garage. And he comes home from the holiday able to actually help his dad with the car and thenceforth Mr Weasley is on board

Isabel: Yeah exactly... they're a bit 'sigh ok this means you're not gonna marry bertha from the bakery but hell at least it's not a veela'

Clare: Also wizarding society is inherently conservative, they haven't even updated their writing system, so anybody doing anything different is looked askance at unless they can play themselves as a genius eccentric like Dumbledore

Isabel: So yeah then Ron turns out to be WHOLESOME af and Krum’s family are like... ok fine. this is fine. In fact yay!

Ok I have to go do some work but this has been almost as good as having the fic itself

Clare: Maybe I'll put a summary on my tumblr and see if anybody wants to adopt it

[arabellaflynn]

I finally caved and bought myself a pair of magic earplugs. I murder earbuds. I spent the years 1999-2016 inclusive destroying pair after pair of earbuds by getting the cord wrapped around something, or the bud caught under a heavy thing in the bottom of my bag, and yanking. I'm moderately fussy about earbuds in the same way I'm moderately fussy about shampoo -- which is to say, not very, but I do need something at least one step above cheap. My very favorite ones were Sony MDR-E9s, which were $10 a pair for a good ten years, and were absolutely everywhere until Sony broke my heart by discontinuing them. I ruined about a pair a month, on average. RIP, all my pretty blue earbuds. I graduated to Bluetooth earbuds when I got tired of knocking headphones off my noggin when practicing with my hoops. I tried braiding the wires (and at one point the actual Sansa Clip MP3 player) into my hair, but there's no way to do that and also keep the pads on or the earbuds in while I'm moving. You have no idea how much time you spend untangling yourself from your goddamn headphone cords until you don't have to do it anymore. Not having a tether always running from my head to my bag got me down from $10 a month to $35-40 once or twice a year, which was nice. They survive me long enough for the battery or USB port to flake out, which as cheap as I am, is about six months. Generally I got the ones with a wire linking the two buds. Acesori is nice for the (very low) price, as is Phaizer. (The magnetic backs are a nice touch -- they're meant to stick to each other when you wear them around your neck, but the buds are light enough that they'll also stick to, like, the fridge, or the side of my clothing rack, even with the USB charge cable hanging off of them.) I wanted the magical musical earplugs, but when I started looking around for them, AirPods were $160 when you tried to buy them without an iPhone attached. That's about $120 more than any sane person ought to be paying for a set of tiny speakers, no matter how snazzy they are. No. Just, no. I finally drove another set of Phaizers into the ground, so I went looking around on Amazon, and lo and behold, true wireless earbuds are down in the $35-40 range now. I have trouble convincing myself to spend money on just about anything, but I really do use these things every single day, and I go mad without a music player, so I gritted my teeth and clicked the order button. My main thought is, "I'm gonna lose these damn things someday." MicroSD cards have already gotten down to the point where you could accidentally insufflate the equivalent of the Library of Congress, and I have several times had to play hot-and-cold with my earbuds to find where I put the fucking phone down. ("My podcast is still running, it has to be in the house somewhere.") Now I have little plastic things smaller than my thumb joint that are streaming music into my ears from my tablet, that is... somewhere on the bed? And running Google Play Music, so it's actually spooling data from servers in, I have no idea, California? Iowa? The Marianas Trench? Who knows. It just finished playing something Samira Saïd recorded in Arabic like twenty years ago. I'm training myself to put them back into the case every single time I take them out of my ears. I've made it like three days and I still know where both of them are. So far, so good. I bought these, if anyone cares. I have no idea why they all insist they are for iPhone/Samsung; Bluetooth is Bluetooth, and they play fine with a really rather nice Lenovo IdeaPad Touch, a perfectly acceptable Kindle Fire 7, and an Alcatel OneTouch "smartphone" that rides the short bus to phone school. The case is also the charger; each bud is supposed to get 3-4 hours of play on a 45 mAh battery, with an additional 650 mAh reservoir in the case, which should be enough to cope even with me. They're about 98% as awesome as I thought they would be. The sound quality is solidly "$35 earbuds". They're not hyperintelligent Bose noise-canceling studio headphones. You are not going to master an album on these. On the other hand, they're pretty good earplugs -- that's how they stay in place. Any drivers with halfway decent bass response are going to sound pretty good when you jam them directly into your ear canals. The tannoy on the T sounds like the grown-ups in the Charlie Brown cartoons when I have them in, but the tannoy on the T sounds mostly like that when I have them out, too. The important part is that I can hear my music, and I cannot hear the conversation you're having on your speakerphone in the middle of the train car about that embarrassing medical condition, and that's all I care about. The downside is that they are not especially robust, and they're too small to have any controls on the earbud itself. The ones with the linking wire have the charge port/battery/buttons on one bud and I'm pretty sure the Bluetooth module is in the other; these have to have a Bluetooth chip and battery in each earplug, which doesn't leave a lot of room for anything else, so the only control on the earbuds themselves is a single click button. One click on either bud for play/pause, and press-hold to turn them on or off individually. You have to do everything else on the actual widget that is streaming the audio. I know most people are already staring at their phones all the time, but mine doth not internet, so it's usually in my bag, and I have to dig it out to skip a song. The earbuds have a very anxious-preoccupied attachment style with respect to the phone, and hate intervening walls, but I suspect I probably could have solved that issue by spending another $10 on them. In theory, they're Class III devices, which should have a range of about 10 meters, but in practice they're twitchy and have no real shielding, so if there's anything weird like power lines or catenary wires around, they get more like 5-10 feet. I shouldn't ever be farther from my bag than that, but still. The most interesting glitch is one I didn't expect. Instead of both pairing with the device, one bud pairs with the device, then the second bud pairs with the first. If there's any lag at all -- because, I don't know, the impedance of my head has suddenly changed? -- the audio gets ever so slightly out of sync. Like, milliseconds. It's not noticeable at all with music, where the stereo field tends to be wide and the background very busy, but it makes audiobooks or podcasts sound odd. If it's not specifically done as a radio drama, voice-only things tend to be recorded as if they're mono, from a single mic with no spatial orientation, but mixed down as two identical stereo channels, because everything expects stereo nowadays and it's easier than trying to dig through the menus for that one weird setting. The result is a voice track that seems to originate from a source that's "nowhere"/somewhere the middle of your head. When the buds slip out of sync, the slight temporal shift effectively becomes a slight shift in stereo phase, which suddenly either makes the voice seem to have a physical location, or be coming simultaneously from a source on either side, depending on how long the delay is. It's interesting on a technical level, but mildly annoying, so I've taken to just sticking one of the buds back into its case if I want to listen to podcasts. Which is what I do most of the time with the ones that hang around my neck anyway, so I can hear the stop announcements on the bus. Ain't technology grand? from Blogger https://ift.tt/2MYCro4 via IFTTT -------------------- Enjoy my writing? Consider becoming a Patron, subscribing via Kindle, or just toss a little something in my tip jar. Thanks!

[bbparker]

Slip of the Tongue (Peter Parker)

Synopsis: Peters rival in everything he does is actually his girlfriend, but nobody knows that due to Peter not wanting to compromise her safety. But one day, Peter accidentally lets slip to a friend about (y/n)’s home problems, and suddenly (y/n) is the pinpoint of everyone’s gossip. 

AN: So, my first request and It was so cool to write! So much Angst… Also, might do a part two if it's requested enough! :)

Warnings: Ugh none… unless you count a lot of hurting because that happens…

Requested by the amazing @suit-lady taken from this prompt list!

4. How could I? How could you?!

25. Cute But Still fucked up

39. Just Kidding, I don’t care

// Masterlist //

(Y/N) struts down the hall with her best friend in tow. (Y/N) knew she was smart and she was beautiful but she also had her doubts about herself, especially when it came to her and her boyfriend. Speaking of, “hey dork, what did you get on the chemistry test yesterday?”

Peter turns around and semi mad expression on his face, fake of course. They had been actual enemies until last year when (y/n) just decided to kiss him after school when both were stuck at school. Nobody was around but after that, they hit it off and became secretly boyfriend and girlfriend.

(Y/n) believes it’s for her reputation at school but really, Peter doesn’t want any enemies to find out about his little affair.

“U-uhm, 95%” A loud laugh fell from (y/n)s mouth, which had obviously made Peters world comes to a short standstill. Admiring her from a far never quite did it for him but after she kissed him last year, he never could get enough of her.

“Ninety-eight” She dragged out while smirking, her best friend laughing and even some surrounding as she continued down the hall. These encounters always happened and they aren’t as bad as they used to be but they had to keep up appearances.

————–

(Y/n)’s music blasted around her as she read over the homework. Getting up the change the song, silence filled the room before a slight tapping on glass could be heard. She instantly ran over to her window, knowing who it was. Kind brown eyes stared back at (y/n) as she forgot to open the window and instead just stared. Admiring how his natural curls fell over his forehead, how the slight smile lifted as he noticed her staring.

“C-can you open the window (y/n)? It’s k-kinda cold out here.” Stumbling with her hands, she opens the window and lets him in and shuts it once more. Feeling arms around her waist and his face peppering her neck with kisses, she smiles in happiness. Turning in Peters' arms to face him, she begins to lean up and-

“Did you really get 98% on your Chemistry?” (Y/n) laughs and nods. “You helped me study for it after all!” Leaning up she finally gets to rest her lips upon his.

With hands on her waist and hands around his neck, they kissed slowly and sweetly. “Cuddles?” “Cuddles.”

Laying on his chest, (y/n) suddenly mumbled, “Do you ever realise how cute we are together but how fucked up this situation actually is?” Peter let out a laugh, “Yeah, actually. I do.”

Both fell asleep in each other’s arms, the two forgetting their responsibilities for a couple hours. (Y/n) was startled awake by the sound of yelling, of course from her parents who had been on the edge of divorce for four months. Sitting up she sat on the edge of the bed just thinking. (Y/n) then felt arms slide around her waist from behind and a slow smile begins to inch up her cheeks.

“Hey, hey it’s alright. I’m sure they’re fine.” Peter attempts to sooth (y/n). In some notion, it was embarrassing having Peter hear the things escaping her parent's mouth.  Turning around, she considered Peter’s eyes before crashing her lips onto his. This kiss was passionate and fast, (y/n) attempting to put all she feels across to Peter.

Moving away from Peter, she could see the dazed look in his eyes at the simple taste of her. Looking over at the time Peter scrambles around collecting his things. “Shit, May wanted me home by 5!” (Y/n) let out a slight laugh, “Peter it’s ten past five AND you live on the floor below me. You’ll be fine.”

Giving her a quick kiss, which led to many more quick kisses, Peter was out the window and down the fire escape to his room. “That boy is going to kill me one day.”

————–

It seemed that the day had arrived.

Walking into school and have people stare at you was a normal occurrence within (y/n)’s life considering who she sat with. But lunch time rolled around and people began to give her different looks, whispering to each other. (Y/n) nervously glances around and decides to quickly make her way to her usual table.

This time instead of moving over to make space they seem to block a few seats. “What’s going on?” (Y/n) says, standing in front of her friend's table. “We think it's best if you… sit somewhere else…” Her supposed best friend mumbles. “Why?” (Y/n) nearly shouts.

Flash Thomson suddenly leans over, technically ripping the Band-Aid off. “Look nobody wants to hand out with a depressed girl with a screwed-up home life. Now shoo.” Frozen for a minute, (y/n) couldn’t think of why anyone would think she’s depressed or how they would have possibly known about her parents. She’d never mentioned it and her appearances had been kept up, there was no way nobody could know. Unless…

Suddenly her head snaps towards the all too familiar table. Who is the only person in this school who lives close enough to know about her parents? Who’s the one who comforted her when she cried about it? Who had she been turning to for the last year?

Walking quickly over to the table with narrowed eyebrows and eyes, (y/n) see’s Peter with his back to her. Ned sitting opposite him spots me and begins to quickly tell him something but it’s too late. Before Peter even has the chance to turn around, (y/n) dumps all her food on his head.

“You know as much as I thought you hated me, I had no clue you hated me this much.” Peter couldn’t do anything but stare, pasta and meat covering his hair, face, and shoulders. He didn’t move and neither did the rest of the school, waiting to see what she did next. “Oh, I’m sorry did I mess up your pride? Just kidding, I don’t care. Come near me again, Parker, and you’ll get a whole lot more than just some lunch on your clothes.” The bell rang and everyone cleared out.

Peter weakly said “(y/n) …” She ignored him as she grabbed her bag and left the building, not bothering with the rest of her classes.

“Peter, what have you done?” Ned slowly said, looking to his best friend. Peter could only stand there looking down with tears brimming his eyes.

 ————-

Low music played throughout (Y/n)’s room as she heard the continuous window knocks. She saw Peter and got up towards the window. Hope spiked for Peter but quickly shut down as (y/n) closed the blinds.

“(Y/n) Please!” Peter called through the window. (Y/N) ignored his pleads until he had decided to drop a bomb. “You don’t understand…”

She’d never tore open the curtains and window so fast. Gripping his collar, she all but threw him into her room. Closing the window, she turned towards him with fury written on her face. “I don’t understand what Parker?! That you hated me so much you had this big plan to get me to open up to you so you could spill my secrets to the whole school?! Because I thought we had an agreement? Do you think I ran around school telling people that you’re some vigilante who runs around in spandex?! Huh?!” Peter’s eye could only widen and stare as she threw her arms up during her speech.

“I don’t hate you!” He finally blew up. “It was a slip of the tongue! I was just talking to Michelle a-about things and suddenly the topic moved to you a-and it just s-slipped out! Someone could have over-heard it o-or maybe… I don’t know but please-”

“IT JUST SLIPPED OUT?! HOW ABOUT SPIDER-MAN'S IDENTITY JUST SLIPS OUT OF MY GOD DAMN MOUTH?!” (Y/n) screams. She knew in some way she was over reacting but she had just lost her friends, have the whole school talk about her and now she was probably in a lower social standing than Peter.  (Y/n) would now have a tough home life as well as a horrible school life.

“How could you say that?!” Peter finally yelled back. “How could I? How could you?!”

A slight pause in the argument seemed to have simmered the heat. (Y/n)’s eye’s brimmed with tears. “I don’t quite think you understand what you’ve done, Parker.” It hurt Peter to hear his last name come out in such a vengeful tone rather than the sweet ‘Peter’ she used to smile with.

“My home life has already gone to shit, but now I’ve just lost all my friends. I’ve got nobody because you just let it slip out. I hope you're finally happy that we’re over. Now get out.” Peter stood shell shocked only realising the gravity of her as well as his situation.

Six things went through Peters' head as he left the apartment via the fire escape knowing nothing can repair this right now;

Number one. She’d never trust him again.

Number two. She’d probably be worse off than him at school

Number three. He’d never get to kiss or hold her again.

Number four. He’d royally fucked up.

Number five. He didn’t know if she would keep his identity a secret after he let out her biggest secret.

And Finally, Number six. He loved her, but it was too late.

-------

[Part Two.]

[dolphinshark]

10. Rihanna on N.E.R.D.’s “Lemon”

Kendrick only chose one guest rapper for DAMN. and he chose wisely. And while “LOYALTY.” absolutely rips, it wasn’t Rihanna’s best rap feature of the year. That title has to go her sneering, shit-talking verse on N.E.R.D.’s comeback single, “Lemon.” RiRi is the unchallenged empress of bad girl cool, and every croaked syllable and tossed off fuck-you line of this verse affirms her right to the throne.

...man, how dope is it gonna be when Rihanna finally decides to just a make a straight up rap album?

9. Young Thug on Drake’s “Sacrifices”

Who would have guessed that the next evolution of rap’s preeminent spazzy, addled weirdo would be restraint? Temperance? Downright...traditional...verses? Not I, at least. And yet, it does make a certain degree of sense. Thugga’s just taking everything he’s learned in his experiments in freeform assonance, bent rhyme, and euphony and placing it into a traditional framework. The result is as typically great as the rest of his work, but in a way that’s entirely atypical for him. 

8. Giggs on Drake’s “KMT”

One of the Great Mysteries of Drake is how he’s widely known as the Gentlest Rapper In The Game, when he’s actually at his best when he’s pissed off and taking names. There is perhaps no greater proof of that than how starkly the grime-influenced gourdbuster “KMT” stands out amidst the breezy riddims that populate the rest of More Life. And a major reason for that is the track’s show stealing guest turn. Giggs’s gutty, mile-deep voice has always been a helluva weapon and here he employs it perfectly, hanging back and lurking behind the beat like a panther. 

7. A$AP Ferg on Marty Baller’s “Like Mike”

Oh, the power of the musical triplet. For most of it’s runtime, Marty Baller’s “Like Mike” is the sort of sunny, giddy anthem that I’d throw in a party anthem playlist, forget about, and be pleasantly surprised by in twelve to eighteen months. But then A$AP Ferg hops on the beat and adds a single extra beat to the flow and turns it into a hook that’s taken up permanently in my brain. And that’s even before he dips into a herky-jerky double time flow that’s icing on the cake. (We’ve all officially decided the Ferg’s the best member of A$AP Mob by now, right?)

6. Chance The Rapper on DJ Khaled’s “I’m The One”

After owning 2016 so totally that he took half the spots on last year’s version of this list, Chance had a quieter and decidedly more mixed 2017. In the minus column were the petty (getting all Internet Mad about people not liking the objectively terrible movie The House) to the downright scummy (putting the screws to MTV.com to get them to remove an article in which a dude had the temerity to say that he didn’t like Coloring Book as much as Acid Rap). But a big check in the plus column was his verse on DJ Khaled’s Beiber-fronted mega-hit “I’m The One.” It’s breezy but dense in the way that only a Chance verse can be, the sort of one that you can sing along with in the car and unpack and analyze with your headphones one. Here’s to a little more of that and a little less of the other stuff in 2018. (Oh and “She want a n**** that pull her hair and hold the door for her” might be the line of the year.)

5. Kendrick Lamar on “DUCKWORTH.”

I’ve just been handed an urgent announcement!

Just let me put on my reading glasses...

[ahem]

It reads, “Kendrick Lamar is good at rapping.”

Huh!

Who’da thunk it?

...

In all seriousness, though, “DUCKWORTH.” is Kendrick putting all of his lyrical and storytelling gifts to carefully unfolding what maybe the best real-life plot reveal in the history of rap music. When we look back at his career, this is the moment that takes him from being a great rapper to being a mythic figure.

4. YG on Mike Will Made It’s “Gucci On My”

I’m sure that we’ve seen better rap verses  this year, but I’m also sure that we haven’t seen one that’s cooler than YG’s turn on “Gucci On My”. He drops three lines, then lets a chorus of ladies spend half his time listing the ways in which he is awesome. Once they’re done he slides back in with line that’s so effortless and smooth that we have to jump cut to 21 Savage’s “YEAH YEAH YEAH” reaction. In a weird way, it actually reminds me of a musical. Listen to that song again. Can’t you just see YG cockily two-stepping in front of a chorus line of women chanting about how he’s the best?

3. Jadakiss on “F vs J Intro”

I mean, did you think I wasn’t going to be obsessed with Jadakiss rapping how he is literally Jason Voorhees? Like LI-TER-AL-LY Jason Voorhees? Whew, boy. But, the thing about writing about Kiss’s rapping is that it’s so self-evidently great that it’s hard to write anything other than “Look! Just look at it!” His best verses are so tightly written that it feels absurd to try to put into words what makes them great. So, I’m just going to copy/paste three lines and move on. “I came out of the lake, but I be in the boondocks / Flannel with overall, work boots, tube socks / I’ll put something right through your face from out the toolbox”

(!!!)

2. Cardi B on Migos’ “Motorsport”

Real Talk 2017: I almost split this list into “Top 5 Cardi Verses” and “Top 5 Non-Cardi Verses” but eventually decided against it only because there were so many good Non-Cardi verses that I felt guilty excluding them. To wit: Cardi owned rap this year. And her star-cementing turn on “Motorsport” was what cinched the year as her’s alone. It’s everything that makes her great in a nutshell, sixteen bars of hard-nosed, Bronx-honk shit talking that oozes with her inimitable personality. And the thing is, it still feels like Cardi’s on an upsweep. If she owned 2017, there’s no telling what she’s going to do in the next twelve months.

In fact, there’s only one thing that could keep her out of the top spot on this list...

1. Lil Wayne on “Listen To Me”

...and that’s a new verse from the greatest rapper ever, mid-00s Lil Wayne.

When T-Pain announced that he was throwing open the Disney Vault and finally releasing his long-shelved full-length collaboration with Lil Wayne, I only wanted one thing: one (JUST ONE!) earth-shattering Mixtape Weezy verse. And, luckily, that’s exactly what we got. Now, “Listen To Me” is an objectively terrible song. (It samples the fucking Oompa-Loompas, for Christ’s sake.) But, Wayne attacks his verse in the way that no one did before him and no one’s done since. He jukes and pivots and glides through his rhymes with such deftness that you’re perpetually playing a kind of dizzying, ecstatic catch-up, always two lines behind him. It’s an artifact from a time when the weirdest rapper, the most technically advanced rapper, the hungriest rapper, and most purely fun rapper were all the same dude. Every other verse on this list was a gift; this one is a miracle.

EDITOR’S NOTE: This post has been edited. It previously contained explicit language that was inappropriate for a white writer to use, even in quotations. That language has now been starred out. Not editing it in the first place was wrong, and you have my sincere apologies. - TWG

[naomi-lafleur]

The First Date

A/n: Thanks @haidenschreave for rping the date with me! There are some mentions of @aileen-hollingsworth @baguette-le-chef @viola-smithin @tracie-beauchamp and some others. Also, I got the idea to draw the outfit for my date from @alexandra-amaria so thank you :D (Your drawing looks great by the way) Lastly, it’s currently 4:46 AM right now, so I’m tired af and the thoughts are kind of weird. SO ENJOYYYYYY :)

"Have you thought of anything yet, Lady Naomi?" asked Lavender, tidying the table.

"I have absolutely no idea," I said with a muffled voice, burying my face into the blanket. It was almost time for my first date with Prince Haiden. I couldn't help but feel these insecurities and doubts running through my head. What if I said something that offended him while I get caught up in my rambling? My head shot up. "Ooh! I thought of something! Where's the library, Eleanor?" I sprinted down the stairs to the first floor, where the royal library was. My jaw dropped. How could a library be this beautiful? I heard a soft humming that eventually died out. That was probably some staff from the other room. I went over to the closest shelf. "Palace Architecture: The Illéa Palace" Note to self: Come back over here and read every single one of these books... Snap out of it, Naomi! Go find what you were here for! I walked to the nearby table, where I found a book about space. As I crouched down to find another one, I bumped into someone. I turned around and saw Aileen jump in surprise. "Oh my goodness! I'm so sorry! Here, I'll help you pick up your books," I said to apologize. "Oh, hey Naomi." There was an awkward silence for a few seconds. "It's okay," She said kneeling down to pick up the books. "So what brings you to the library?" I asked, trying to stir up a conversation. She glanced at the pile of books and then at the camera hanging around her neck. "Umm, I was kind of planning on taking pictures" "Oh I'm sorry for bothering you! I was just looking for a book about canoeing for my date, so I wanted to research about it. ," I responded, gesturing to a book. "It's no problem...wait, canoeing?" I laughed awkwardly. "Haha, yes, I was planning on canoeing and then stargazing so I wanted to research about it. Have you gone on your date yet?" I asked. "Um, not yet. In a few days though," Aileen answered. After chatting and getting to know each other, we went down to the kitchen to eat lunch. I was so excited to have Chef Baguette's Potato Gratin again. It was the best food I've ever eaten.

"Mmm oh my goodness, this food is amazing!"  I stuffed more potatoes into my mouth. "Chef Baguette is quite the artist indeed," Aileen said. "My mother would be so jealous! Haha she always wanted to try Chef Baguette's food," I added. "Really? Well if we last until the Elite, both our mothers will try his food," She responded as she laughed. After we finished eating, I went back to my room with my books about canoeing and astronomy. My maids rushed me into makeup. "We must get you ready now, miss. We only have-" She checked her watch. "-an hour before the prince gets here! Vite! Vite! Vite!" Aurora said. They put on a natural look and let my wavy hair fall to my shoulders. I picked out a gray sweater that went over my black and white, aztec patterned romper. I didn't need anything too formal because we would be sitting on a boat. I started to read my book about astronomy.

Twenty minutes went by quite quickly. I heard a knock on the door right on the dot. I opened it before any of my maids could get there. Here goes nothing. "Hi there! Are you ready for your date, Lady Naomi?" Haiden asked. "Hello Prince Haiden! Yes, I'm ready," I said in response. "Great. What would you like to do?" "I was planning for us to go canoeing at the lake and then stargazing when it gets darker." "Wow, uh, great idea! I'm not sure if I'm dressed for it though," he said, laughing awkwardly. "Oh no it's fine! We won't be going too far," I responded. OH NO ABORT MISSION! ABORT MISSION! WHY WOULD YOU SAY THAT, NAOMI?! He seemed hesitant. "Uh, great. So are you an outdoorsy person?" You've already gotten eliminated. Did you see him hesitate?!? "Well yes, you could say that haha. I was planning to go stargazing tonight because I heard that we could see Jupiter to the visible eye. Do you like astronomy?" Be chill. Don't let him know how big of a astronomy nerd you are. You know you've been planning to go stargazing tonight for months, Naomi.

“Very much so, yes.”

Your one job was to not let this get awkward! You already failed!

“...Well, should we go now?” I asked.

“Uh, yes, definitely.” He offers me his arm and starts to head outside. “So tell me about yourself, Lady Naomi.”

“Hmm... well I'm an artist and photographer. I absolutely love painting.”

“What do you paint?”

This conversation is so boring. Is this how everyone else's date went? Or is it just me?

“I usually like painting stuff in nature. Back in Waverly, I would go on the roofs of some buildings and just draw,” I said.

I started getting flashbacks of those good old days. The wind would blow in my hair and the sun would make everything look better. They were great places to take photographs.

“That sounds amazing. Aren't you afraid of heights?”

“Hahaha I used to be terrified of heights, but I got over it after I saw how beautiful it is from up there. Are you afraid of anything?”

“Everything, Lady Naomi. Except heights. I find them comforting,” he answered.

Ahahaha so I guess he does have some personality. This'll get quite interesting.

“Yeah! I'm not sure what it is, but it makes me feel so relieving now. So, I heard you hate cats. How did this hatred start?”

How could someone have a phobia of cats? I mean, I love dogs, but what's so bad about cats?

“Oh, well, it's a long story.”

Well I guess I'm going to have to fish it out of him.

“Can you sum it up in a sentence?”

“Well, let's just say I found a stray cat and decided to give it a bath. I still have scars.”

I cringed. “Oh that sounds rough…. Anyways, tell me some of your hobbies,” I said, trying to change the topic.

“Well, astronomy, writing, music, and gymnastics.”

Wow, so straightforward. What am I supposed to say now?

We finally got to the lake.

“Wow, that's cool! I've always wanted to try out gymnastics, but I chose to do taekwondo instead.”

“That's crazy. I did the exact opposite. I've taken a lot of sports, but I've never been that good at most of them.”

“Well, at least you tried! I've only ever tried out taekwondo, but I've finally got my black belt!” I looked at the canoe that was sitting by the lake. “Do you mind sitting on the grass, Prince Haiden? We don't have to go on the canoe if you don't feel comfortable. I just really wanted to look at the stars tonight.”

“Sure. Do you look at stars often?”

“Yeah, I try to get out of the city once in awhile to watch them all night. I made sure to come out tonight because this is the first time I've ever been able to see Jupiter. It is absolutely stunning,” I said, gazing at the sky.

“I love studying it. It's definitely more beautiful up high.”

“So... how is it like being the prince? I'm curious.”

He probably gets the question everyday.

“It's… definitely very tiring, but it's worth it.”

“Do you ever wish you had another life?”

“I think all of us do at some point, but I know I'm very lucky to be in this position. Do you ever feel that way?” he asked.

“Yes, I've always felt that way when I was younger. Especially after my father passed away, but I would never want to change my life now….”

“I understand… Wow, this conversation got dark.”

“We should probably walk back now. So, what's something interesting about yourself?”

“I... I have no idea, honestly. My goth phase was probably the most interesting about me.”

“Oh my.” I laughed a little. “I wish I was there to witness that... Oh I have something interesting about me. Technically I'm only four years old.”

“Really? Leap year birthday?”

“Yep, my birthday is on February 29.”

“That's so weird to me.”

That you're going on a date with a four year old? 

“Ahahaha yeah, people always give me a weird look when I tell them that.”

“At least you can always get the kid's meals at restaurants.”

Now we're getting somewhere. His sense of humour is finally showing.

“I'll make sure to play in the ball pit as well then.”

“Young at heart and all?”

“Yes, I always act like a child in private.”

... it's true. 

“Favourite juice?”

“OJ, of course. It's the classic,” I said.

Orange juice is the bomb.

“Obviously. Favourite food?”

“Chicken fingers are the love of my life.... right after chocolate. If anyone says otherwise, they're lying.”

“Always a favourite. Favourite condiment?”

I'm in a predicament. I could lie and be like a normal person but…. Nah… You've never even been a normal person ever in your life, Naomi.

“My family calls me weird and don't tell anyone especially Chef Baguette... but I love relish.”

That man would rip my relish dreams apart.

“I love relish too!”

“I thought I was the only one!”

I've found my soulmate. Free relish for everyone at our wedding :’)

“It's amazing, honestly…. Can I ask you a question?”

“Oui.”

As you can tell, I'm obviously fluent in french… duh.

“What are you expecting of me during this competition?”

Oh no.

Sirens are flashing in my mind with yellow tapes saying “CAUTION! DO NOT INSULT THE PRINCE!”

“...Honestly, there's nothing that I really expect of you. I can't make you do anything and I won't. I'm just hoping that we could become friends if I am to be eliminated…. But oh boy. You should meet my sister though. She absolutely adores you.”

Good job avoiding an actual answer… not.

“Really?”

“Yes. She would kill me if she ever found out that I told you.”

He laughed. “Let me know when you send a letter to them next. I'll send her one.”

Wow, so smooth.

“She would probably scream so loud that we could hear it in Angeles if you did that.”

“Then I'd love to hear it”

“Oh, you're in a treat then.”

“Well, I definitely look forward to it, though I'm not sure if she'd be any match to my sisters. They definitely know how to scream…. That sounds kind of sadistic when I think about it, but uh, just ignore that.”

“Haha I guess we'll have to have a competition for the loudest shriek then.”

“I look forward to hearing it. Unfortunately, I think we should head back to the palace now, but I've had a longly time with you, he said.

“I really enjoyed our time together today. I'll make sure to hear that Shrek impression next time!” I responded, referring to what he said during my interview.

“I look forward to it,” he added.

We arrived at my room.

“I hope you had a good time as well. Goodnight, Prince Haiden.”

“Goodnight, Naomi,” he said, to end things off.”

As I closed the door, my three maids surrounded me.

“Hello, Lady Naomi! Did everything go well?” Eleanor asked eagerly.

“I might’ve messed up a bit…. But I thought it was fine,” I said, smiling.

“That’s alright. Oh, I almost forgot! There is a sleepover in Lady Viola's room and you have been invited!”

“Really?”

I heard Viola was really nice. I hope I can get to know her better.

“I'll just get dressed into some comfy clothes and then I'll head down there. I can take off all the makeup, so you guys can go tonight. I'll see you tomorrow morning! Thank you,” I said.

They all seemed hesitant to leave. 

Are they not allowed to leave me alone? Well, there was no point in staying if I was going to be in another room all night anyways.

After a minute of silence, they all eventually left me alone.

“Have a good night, Lady Naomi,” they all said at the same time.

I put on a tank top and a pair of pajama pants that was hiding in the back of my closet.

This’ll do

I asked a nearby guard where Lady Viola's room was. He escorted me up the stairs.

“Hey guys,” I said.

They all greeted me with smiles.

Well, I guess I interrupted a conversation.

We spent the next half hour playing truth or date until I finally fell asleep. I woke up to Tracie’s laughter an hour later. Hux, the butler, walked in with chocolate, wine, and chips. A few of the ladies started drinking.

Many of the royal family came to check in on us for a while including Princess Winter, Haiden, Eloise, Elaine, Ashton, and even Hux and Baguette. They started getting into a petty fight, which ended up in a break up.

Oh vey. Such drama Queens. They'll probably be back together by the morning.

A couple hours later, when everyone was pretty much drunk, we somehow got to the topic about fire. We decided to go out to the gardens and roast some marshmallows.

... Cressida, Berkeley, and I might have…. burned a bush.

It was pretty lit… literally. No biggie.

Mila tried so hard to reason with me, saying “I thought you were the responsible one!”

The following morning, I went back to my room, exhausted. There was relish sitting on my bedside table with a note that said “-Chef Baguette”

Who told?! Wow, much disrespect.

Immediately, I fell onto my bed and took a nap.

[prettypaprika]

2016 Year in Fic

This year I wrote a lot (especially for me!) and wanted to take the opportunity to look back and see just exactly what I spent all that time doing…

STATS Fics: 14 Word Count: 91,174 (give or take)

Fandoms: 8 Star Wars: The Force Awakens: 4 Original: 4 (Although two of which were fake superhero, so not completely original) Misc: 6

Ships: 10 different ships m/m: 6 f/f: 2 m/f: 2 gen: 1 most written character: Poe Dameron and Finn most written ship: Poe/Finn (shocker) OVERALL:

Did you write more fic than you thought you would this year, less, or about what you'd predicted? In terms of words, absolutely! I’m a little bit in awe of just how many words I wrote this year, although I ended up doing two long fics for exchanges that pushed up the number. In terms of stories, less. Last year, I think I wrote 11 or 12 fics and thought I would write a lot more this year. But, I think that my most productive period last year was October/November and this year I was packing and moving during those two months, which really cut into my ability to write.

What pairing/genre/fandom did you write that you would never have predicted in January? Gen in Over the Garden Wall--I hadn’t even heard of this wonderful, amazing show in January. I think it’s also been years since I wrote anything truly gen, so that was definitely a surprise.

What’s your own favorite story of the year? I think that my Charlie/Adam Mighty Ducks fic, “@thatduckingcharlie” is my favorite. It evolved very naturally from a fake twitter quote about one of the characters to a whole story told through twitter. I had so much fun writing it and trying to figure out how tell a story from snippets of a public life. I also really enjoyed writing the two stories set in a rip-off superhero world, mainly because of all the bad jokes I got to make in those stories. My s2b2 story was also a blast–I took a lot of inspiration and spirit from one of my favorite movies, The Thin Man, and tried to translate that into a fun slash 1930s occult mystery.

Did you take any writing risks this year? What did you learn from them? I like to think that I took some risks this year--I tried to diversify my style as well as write stories outside of my usual repertoire. I think that non-romance focused stories as still hard for me, but something that I’d like to keep working on. 

Do you have any fanfic goals for 2017? Maybe to finish and publish some of my random WIPs that are hiding on my computer. Survive the big bang that I signed up for. I would also like to write the original story that I spent about three months researching this year but wasn’t able to write in time for the s2b2 issue it would have been for. Write more in general!

Did you meet your goals from last year? No clue. Knowing me, I probably set goals that aren’t able to be easily measured and so would deem myself has having failed them.

BEST AND WORST:

My best story of the year: Stylistically, probably “@thatduckingcharlie” since it was told from an interesting perspective. Technically, I would probably say “Mystery in the Adirondacks”, which I wrote for s2b2′s October issue. I wanted to evoke the banter and gaiety of The Thin Man, because it’s a film that I’ve always thought had fantastic dialogue and atmosphere. At times it was difficult to convey that luminosity on paper, but, I think that the end product turned out well and I had an amazing artist, @beili, working with me who did breathtaking illustrations. 

My most popular story of the year: Kudos-wise, it’s “Barks and Recreation” for sure (it also wins in bookmarks). Kudos/hits ratio, I think it’s “Drowning in Our Blood” mainly because it’s in a super tiny fandom.

Story of mine that is most under-appreciated by the universe: “The Violators” which was a story I wrote for the Trick or Treat challenge that featured a superhero and supervillain that fall in love without knowing who the other when they first meet playing rec league hockey. Mainly, this was a story that I cracked myself up writing as I created ridiculous fake superheroes and supervillains. I also gave a lot of blood, sweat and tears for “This Story Does Not End With A Kiss” which was a modern retelling of the fairytale Kate Crackernuts, but it’s definitely a super tiny fandom, so I didn’t expect much attention.

Most fun story to write: Probably “@thatduckingcharlie”, because of the coming up with twitter handles and figuring out how to convey fights and confessions of love without outright saying anything was explicitly happening. Coming up with the dialogue in “Mystery in the Adirondacks” was also a blast.

Story with the single sexiest moment: Toss-up between “The Priestess of Divinity” featuring dubious consent between a priestess possessed by a god and the priestess’ loyal knight and “Mystery in the Adirondacks” with Hank and Jack finally getting together after having UST for the entire fic.

Most “oh um.... uh ok....” story: Probably the closest that I got was “The Priestess of Divinity” featuring dub con all around, divine possession during sex, a threesome and...more!

Story that shifted my perceptions of the characters: This is a hard one...how I think about characters constantly changes throughout every story I write. I think that “The Woods Are Lovely, Dark and Deep” definitely changed my perception and understanding of how Over the Garden Wall functioned as a show and how difficult it is to balance between whimsicality, appropriateness for kids but also depth and darkness. Buuuut, I suppose the answer to the actual question asked would be “Yo Helga!” because it gave me a chance to explore Helga as a character not just in Hey Arnold! but also how her experiences would continue to affect her as an adult.

Biggest disappointment: Not getting to write my epic slash story set in the 70s about two actors in New York. I really wanted to write it in time for the December issue of s2b2 but training for a triathlon in the summer and moving in the fall decimated my free time.

Biggest surprise: Deciding to write two treats for the Trick or Treat Exchange (after not signing up) and writing for the October issue of s2b2. On a whim, I decided to write those stories all around the same time period and they were done fairly quickly.

Most unintentionally telling story: “The Woods are Lovely, Dark and Deep” definitely echoes some of the uncertainty that I feel in my own life, including my reluctance to change paths.

WIPs

untitled joseph liebgott/david webster big bang fic Joe followed David in and they both stood there for a few seconds in the entrance, awkwardly measuring each other up. Joe had been a skinny guy back in the day, army rations persistently unhelpful, but now he’d evened out a bit, muscle thicker in his arms and chest, making him less lanky and more wiry. He was paler than he’d been in the war; with a faint scar up above his left eyebrow and he was exactly as David had dreamed the other night. The resemblance was so complete, it took David’s breath away for one heart-hammering second. untitled dan/blair pregnancy fic Blair turned back to Dan and began taking off her coat to drape over a chair. “Well, you said that you wouldn’t move back to New York, so you only left me with one option.”

“One option—” Dan started and then stopped abruptly. Blair was wearing a very fashionable print wrap dress with black kitten heels. Dan would hazard a guess that the dress was probably Marc Jacobs or Gucci. The shoes, Alexander McQueen. But even clearer than Blair’s continued sartorial achievements was the fact that Blair was definitely, most certainly pregnant.

“Eleanor is embarrassed beyond belief that her only daughter is having a child out of wedlock. She is also no longer speaking to me since I refuse to tell her who the father is. Serena has promised to come out and help when I’m due, but I can’t exactly crash with her and her husband in Chicago,” Blair said, pronouncing Chicago like it was a bad word. To Blair, it probably was. 

untitled femslash mermaid story (based on this picture) When she'd been a young mermaid, every time that Adriane had gotten in trouble from skipping classes to hang out with the kelpies or learning to smoke from the selkies, her father would threaten to send her up one of the rivers where there were plenty of humans. "If you keep this up," he used to say. "They'll find you and skin you for your pelt and you'll deserve it."

untitled 28 days later fic The refugee camp is fucking depressing, which says a lot after having survived a rage virus pandemic. There are only a few hundred people in the camp. They’re told that several thousand people have been rescued since the United Kingdom and Ireland were quarantined and that the search is still ongoing, but the facts are pretty plain: tens of millions of people—entire villages, cities, metropolitan areas have been wiped out. Out of the seventy or so million people living in Great Britain and Ireland, maybe only seven or eight million remain.

On their second day in the camp, they find out that Hannah apparently has some distant family in Canada. The immigration officer comes to speak to Jim, Selena and Hannah in barely accented English about sending Hannah to live with her family, Hannah flatly says that she’ll kill herself if they separate her from Jim and Selena.

 “Jim and Selena are the only family that I have left,” Hannah says. “I’m not going anywhere without them except in a body bag.” 

untitled cinderella fic In the glimpses the woman-child had taken of her dance partner throughout the evening, a spectator watch a spark begin to deepen. It was one thing to abstractly know that such a life of luxury and wealth existed, but to have a taste—to have an intoxicating glimpse of lust and richness—there was no return from that knowledge.

Although the woman-child could not have identified the flame beginning to burn within her, her observer could. It was the deepest longing, the start of a desire that would go to the very core of the woman-child’s soul. A desire that, once it had taken root, would accept water at any cost so that it could grow.

RECS!

AT THE SAME STARS by spicyshimmy -- (Star Trek) Kirk/Spock with a Tarsus IV divergence. Such Great Heights by softlyforgotten - (HP) Draco/Harry EWE where Draco has a dragon. A Year and a Day in Old Theradane by Scott Lynch -- (Original) Amazing fantasy universe heist! Sixteen Days in September by Tevere -- (GenKill) Nate/Brad AU set during the 1999 East Timorese crisis The King’s Road by Tsukizubon Saruko -- (Original) Femslash utterly fantastic story of the kidnap and ransom of a noble daughter got a million ugly words for what you are by spock -- (Slow West) Silas/Payne pre-canon

(i make no guarantees regarding when these were written, only when I read them)

[sjohnson24]

Haunted Sacramento Memorial Auditorium & My Haunted Flyovers

Ghosts & The Supernatural – With this article, we are going to do some hopscotching. We are going to start off with a haunting in Sacramento and then talk about hauntings in various faraway countries and territories. The countries and territories mentioned are countries that I actually flew over to get to another country. So technically, the countries and territories I mention, I was there, in their airspace. I will talk about hauntings in these countries and territories, along with why I was flying over these countries and territories. So, let’s get started with our first stop in Sacramento, California: 

The Sacramento Memorial Auditorium is located at 1515 J Street in Sacramento. This majestic building was constructed in 1926 and opened to the public in February of 1927. Many big stars have performed here from the Beach Boys to the Rolling Stones to The Doobie Brothers to The Moody Blues to Prince to Duran Duran. When I danced for the Easter Seal’s Guinness Book of World Records, I started the marathon at the Country Club Plaza and was transported by a van (in which I had to dance inside the van in front of witnesses) and taken to the Sacramento Convention Center to finish up the last few hours. It was originally mentioned that Easter Seals was going to have me finish up at the Sacramento Memorial Auditorium, but that did not come to fruition and like I mentioned, the final avenue of my dance was completed at the Sacramento Convention Center. I danced 8 ½ days – 205 Hours. I had my fingers crossed, that I would do the last 5 hours at the Sacramento Memorial Auditorium, because I was curious if the building was haunted or not.

Some of the stories that have been told to me are the following:

Miguel Anderson from Sacramento claims he attended the Duran Duran concert and a hippie type of lady sat in the seat next to him, she sat to his right. Miguel says she had a purple flower in her hair, tattered flowered dress that was long, she wore birkenstocks, straggly blonde hair and blue eyes. Miguel noticed on her right hand, she had a small peace symbol tattoo. Miguel thought the woman looked very unusual and out of place for a Duran Duran concert. The lady looked at Miguel and smiled. Miguel tried to break the ice and said…”are you ready to see Duran Duran?” The woman looked at Miguel with a quizzical look on her face and said “who is that?” Miguel was completely confused and says…”what do you mean? You’re at the Duran Duran concert!” Then at this time a heavy set man approached the woman’s seat and sat down at the exact spot where the lady was. As he sat down, she completely vanished. Miguel said he freaked out and said to the man next to him,….”you sat on a lady! Oh my god, she was right there and you sat down and now she is gone!” The heavy set man did not see the lady and thought Miguel had been drinking. Miguel was so shaken by this experience, that he went to the restroom and vomited. When Deanna Jaxine Stinson visited this auditorium, she felt a portal on the 2nd floor. Priscilla (last name not given) claims she saw a janitor, wearing a blue uniform at the auditorium and as she watched him sweeping, he faded away. AUDITORIUM ENTITIES IDENTIFIED: PEACE LADY AND THE AUDITORIUM JANITOR.

Now let’s talk about my flyovers and what is haunting the countries and territories that I flew over.

My Haunted Flyovers

Greenland – While flying over to England, the airline pilot told the passengers to look over to their left and they will see Greenland. There are many paranormal stories that originate from Greenland. One story is the Mud Woman. This Mud Woman is sometimes seen walking around the icey tundra looking lost. What is unusual about this woman is that she appears to be covered in mud. It is said that if she makes eye contact with a person, that person will fall ill in a few days.

Iceland – While flying to Ireland, we flew over Iceland. There are many, many stories of elves and fairies that inhabit this island. One story is about the rock known as Ofeigskirkja. This rock has been at the center of an 8 year battle to stop a road being built through this 8,000-year-old landscape, a spectacularly barren and evocative terrain a little to the north of Reykjavík, which some believe is a site of supernatural forces. In a country of such desolate stony expanses, haunted by howling winds, bubbling geysers and fiery eruptions, it’s not hard to see why more than half of the population entertains the possibility that a parallel community of elves, dwarves and ghosts might exist – a statistic repeated in tourist brochures since a landmark 1975 survey. But few, like Jónsdóttir, claim to have a direct line to them, allowing her to hear their cries for help. Another entity that they believe exists in Iceland is a spirit called the Kopavogur Nemhain. This spirit was seen 4 times in the city of Kopavogur and it gives out a horrifying death shriek. Locales believe that Irish people brought this entity over from Ireland.

Aleutian Islands – While flying back from Hong Kong to the United States, we flew over the Aleutian Islands. There has been many reports of UFOs sighted in this area. Some of the reports indicate that UFOs have been seen flying into the ocean and there have been reports of USOs (Unidentified Submerged Objects) flying out of the water and into the sky.

Sweden – While flying to Moscow, Russia, I flew over Sweden. What I will never forget is the incredible view of Sweden from the air. One report comes out of the town of Lund. I will call this the Kikimora Lund Spirit case. A resident of Lund was haunted by a female spirit, believed to be a Slavic Kikimora spirit. The husband makes claim that his wife would be weaving a scarf with her own design in mind and the next morning, the scarf would be completed with a different design. After a while, his wife became frustrated and one of the scarfs she threw in the fire. When she did that her sewing needles raised up in the air and flew into the wall. The needles remain in the wall as a reminder to not upset the spirit. The spirit has also been seen looking over their chickens. The family believes they have a Kikimora spirit in their house. This report comes from the Nilsson family in Lund, Sweden. Special Note: My father Paul and my stepmother Cindy have visited Sweden, Finland, Denmark and Norway.

Finland – While flying to Moscow, Russia, I flew over Finland. Inari of Finland says that she encountered a possible Swarog (fire demon). While hiking in the forest near Helsinki, she saw a humanoid that appeared to be on fire flying in and out of the forest. As she watched this flying humanoid, it morphed into a falcon and flew away. This happened in 1967. I call this the Helsinki Fire Demon.

Norway – While flying to Moscow, Russia, I flew over Norway. Akershus Fortress (Castle) in Norway was built around 1300. This is a medieval castle that was a defensive stronghold for the city of Oslo. It served as a prison during the late 18th-19th centuries, with many prisoners dying during their imprisonment from starvation, torture and murder. Nazi’s also occupied the castle during World War II, carrying out many executions on the site.  Legend has it that Akershus Castle is the most haunted place in Norway. There is even a demon dog named Malcanisen that guards the gates to the castle. If Malcanisen approaches you, you are doomed to die a horrible death in the next 3 months. Also, there is a ghost of a woman named Mantelgeisten that is seen walking around the castle and usually she is walking back to her chamber. She comes out of the shadows wearing a long robe and has no facial features.

Vietnam – While flying to Bangkok, Thailand, I flew over Vietnam and Laos. It has been reported that many citizens of Vietnam have seen the residual haunting of soldiers in battle. Some residents have seen soldiers marching in the jungles only to disappear into thin air. On a lighter note, the Hoang family claims they have a Zao Shen spirit in their home. They have seen this spirit writing something in a notebook as it watches the family. The spirit is seen a lot in the kitchen area and dining room area of the home. They believe the spirit came from a family member that was visiting them from China. This entity is recorded in the HPI files as the Hoang Kitchen Spirit. Special Note: My brother Andrew “Andy” Somprise Soyo and my cousin Paul Leaird both served in the US Army in Vietnam.

Laos – While flying to Bangkok, Thailand, I flew over Vietnam and Laos. Zao Nguyen from Laos says that in the city of Savannakhet, there was a story that there was a Witch of Savannakhet, known as a Bagala. Legend has it that people who were her enemies or were cursed, had their tongues ripped out and people that she favored were blessed with eloquence. She was known to frequent the city in the 1940s and hasn’t been seen since.

By Paul Dale Roberts, HPI’s Esoteric Detective Hhttp://www.facebook.com/#alo Paranormal Investigations – HPI International.

www.facebook.com/#!/groups/HPIinternational/