#until like level ten? eleven? when you get three blasts

[flashhwing]

tasha's optional rules let rangers respec their fighting style when u reach a level that grants ASI ...... n the warlock initiate feat exists .... i think I can save Dev's build n it'll be funny coz she STILL won't be using any of her actual warlock class features but I can change her to two weapon fighting and give her green flame blade which will make her damage output a little bit insane but she will still have 13 ac so like. glass cannon build ftw

okay so what this will end up being is like. 1d6 (weapon) + 1d6 (slayer's prey) + 1d6 (hex) +1d8 (green flame blade) + 2 on the first hit (plue 1d8+2 on another enemy within 5 feet). then 1d6 (weapon) + 1d6 (hex) + 2 on the second hit. for a total of 5d6 + 2d8 + 6 total damage output. assuming both attacks hit and there's a second enemy within 5 feet.

which feels a LITTLE bit like cheesing but also remember that slayer's prey and hex are both bonus actions, so she needs to take two turns to get those up, during which she doesn't take a second attack at all because that's ALSO a bonus action. so win some lose some? hex is also concentration and costs a spell slot so it's not always gonna be there. so the above is like. OPTIMAL conditions which will not always be the case

AND this will make some sense narratively too because currently we have two frontliners, which are the Very Large Tank barb/fighter and the Extremely Frail Old Man cleric. why is the old man taking so many hits while our ranger, rogue, and gunslinger stay far far back. nah. Dev's gonna take out her swords and take some glory for herself dammit (not that she CARES about father raylen at all she definitely just wants to prove herself. if she's protecting him it's only because he'll be USEFUL to her down the line she is NOT fond of that old man. stop looking at her like that.)

(none of this is applicable until the next time we level up anyway fjdskl we levelled up last session so it'll be A While)

[one-boring-person]

Who's Side Are You On? (Part Ten)

Terminator (1984) reader insert

Warnings: severe injury, gun usage, blood

Context: badly written car chase time let's goooo

A/N: I was tired as hell when I wrote this, so I apologise if it's sloppy

Masterlist

Many road users call out to the three vehicles as they speed past, insults and angry protests shouted after them, though every comment is ignored by the drivers of each individual culprit. Bullets ricochet off of the sides of multiple cars and vans that are passed by them, very few actually finding their targets due to the wild and reckless driving being performed by the shooters themselves, meaning that strips of road are now branded with blackened gunshot marks. Surprisingly, there are no police vehicles after them yet, but it is highly likely that there will be, soon.

Kyle and Sarah lead in their car, the former leaning out of the car window to shoot at the male terminator behind them, who is steadily coming after them on a motorbike, his rifle lifted and constantly in use, until the bullets run out, at which point he reloads, one-handed, and continues. Behind them is the (Y/n), who is sat up straight on her bike despite the visible injuries, as well as the internal ones. Blood drenches her skin and clothes, multiple cuts and grazes on her face leaking onto the previously clean expanse of flesh, her posture slightly off due to the presence of three broken ribs in her chest, which are dangerously close to puncturing a lung. Even so, she follows on, her handgun raised to fire every few minutes, whenever she gets a clear shot, her aim thankfully accurate, despite the inconsistency of her driving.

The three of them enter a tunnel, the traffic coming closer together due to the lack of space, meaning they are all instantly compressed into a closer area, giving the two mechanically-run pursuers a better chance of hitting their targets. Considering this, Kyle reaches into the back of the car and pulls the bag of homemade explosives that he and Sarah made in the motel from the backseat, resting it on his lap as he fumbles to take one out and light it. When the fuse eventually flares to life, he leans back out of the window and throws the explosive from it, growling in frustration when it just misses, the flash of sparks and smoke only just engulfing the terminator as he drives through it, seemingly unperturbed by it. Just behind him, (Y/n) catches the brunt of the smoke, but ignores it, aiming to gain on the cyborg ahead of her, the gun in her hand raised to the correct level.

Kyle throws another grenade, this one missing both motorcyclists because his aim is off, Sarah having quickly swerved the car at the last minute to avoid a car. Readjusting, the soldier lights and throws another one, the explosive this time landing directly in front of the terminator, though it does nothing to affect him, again, the cyborg relentlessly chasing on after them, emptying the magazine of his rifle into their car as they emerge from the tunnel again, hitting Kyle in the chest with brutal accuracy, causing Sarah to scream out the soldier's name in fear. He throws the gun to the floor and pulls out a small revolver, cocking it as he aims for the car again, just missing yet another grenade. Changing tactics, he then directs his motorbike until it is on the other side of the car, shooting out the wing mirror as he does so, rapidly gaining on the vehicle as Sarah starts to panic.

Upon seeing this, Sarah does the first thing that comes to mind. Yanking on the wheel, she manages to keep the car towards the curb, where she pins the terminator's bike, causing the tyres to skid and give out, losing traction as it overturns, throwing it's rider off. She instantly pulls the car away from the side of the road again, only to lose control as the wheels spin out, sending the vehicle careening into the road, rolling to a stop a little way away, now completely upside down.

For a moment, all is quiet, until (Y/n) draws to a halt by the wreckage of the motorcycle, the soldier climbing off of her's and starting to walk over to the prone figure of the cyborg on the floor, gun raised at it's head, expression blank. Her pace us steady and undisturbed, arm outstretched menacingly with obvious intent, momentarily fixed on one objective alone: to terminate her target.

The sound of a screaming horn snaps her from her fixation, only giving her a second to process the sight of the oncoming truck until it's not her, her body thrown back across the road, the impact brutal and harsh, shattering more of her ribs and bones as she smashes into the hard floor, one arm dislocating and snapping in two as she rolls, only coming to a stop when she hits the curb again. She is limp, lying completely still, no sign of life visible in her body, her limbs twisted unnaturally as a deathly calm comes over her. Across from her, the terminator is dragged over the ground by the oncoming tanker, skin and flesh abrased away from the glinting metal endoskeleton beneath, taking away any stain of humanity it had before, exposing it for what it is. It rolls once, twice, before stopping, the cyborg lying still momentarily to recover orientation, standing again when the truck driver comes out to investigate the damage. He is soon dispatched, and the terminator climbs into the driver's seat of the tanker, but not until after he has gone over to the body and checked it over, picking her up and throwing her a little way away to reinforce the damage, instructing the passenger to get out before starting the vehicle and guiding it on a single track; straight at the wreckage of Sarah and Kyle's car.

Seeing this, Sarah starts to panic, wrestling to get both herself and Kyle out of the car before it is destroyed, slapping him awake as much as she can, signalling to him to get up and run with her. Thankfully, he comes to and follows her without a question, automatically aware of the danger before he's even seen it, the two of them swiftly scrambling out of the destruction, Kyle gritting his teeth against the pain of his wound as he moves, all thoughts of his sister gone from his mind as he leads Sarah over to the alley of a manufacturing factory nearby.

As he approaches the alley, however, he soon realises that he won't make it far enough away from the truck without getting Sarah caught. He makes a split decision and breaks away from her, yelling at her to run as he hides behind a nearby bin, waiting for the tanker to drive past him. As it does, he takes one more explosive from his pocket and lights it, sticking it into the exhaust pipe of the truck as it drives close to him, the blast from the grenade possibly having the potential to do much more damage now. Ignoring the pain in his chest, he climbs into the bin, using it to shelter from the blast when it eventually goes off, hoping to hell that Sarah manages to get away in time.

Moments later, the tanker goes up in flames, a loud explosion taking place as the contents of it's cargo hold catches and ignites, destroying the vehicle with suitable finality, throwing debris everywhere. Sarah lets out a rough scream, collapsing to the ground to shield her ears as the waves of heat roll off of the site of explosion, warming her back considerably. Smoke fills the air as the putrid stench of burning makes itself known, souring any clean oxygen present. 

When she is sure it's safe to look again, Sarah gets up, turning and eyeing the wreckage, taking note of the burning metal and debris, the heat of it all so intense that she is sure the terminator will have been demolished with the rest of the truck. Biting her lip, she hobbled forwards, only opening her mouth to call out briefly.

"K-Kyle?" Her voice is cracked and thin from the smoke intake, but it carries well enough.

"Sarah?!" The familiar voice returns, Kyle soon appearing out of the smoke, beaten, bruised and bloodied, but alive, the soldier coming over to her and drawing her up into a tight embrace. Together they collapse back to the floor, both relieved to be given some reprieve.

"We did it...we did it…" Sarah whispers to him, burying her head into his chest, only to pull away again when she feels him tense up once more. Turning her head, she feels her heart drop as she catches sight of it:

The sight of a silhouetted figure stepping out of the roiling flames, still very much alive.

Part Eleven.

[monstersandmaw]

Embers - male dragon shifter x reader, Part Thirteen (sfw)

Hey folks - sorry I didn’t post it yesterday. Here it is, at 6.30am on a Saturday for you instead! And we finally get a glimpse of Mikaeïl in his... bigger form too...

Next week is our final chapter! I can’t believe it! Thank you so much to those of you who’ve let me know you’re enjoying it, and to those of you who have reminded me (on more than one occasion!!) that Friday means Embers day, and where the hell is the story, Ghosti!! haha.

One, Two, Three, Four, Five, Six, Seven, Eight, Nine, Ten, Eleven, Twelve

Mikaeïl’s request that you ‘bring something warm to wear’ for your weekend with him confused and mystified the hell out of you. Added to that, he absolutely refused to give you any more information about it, so you found yourself driving over to his house with a number of different jumpers and coats packed, and a knot of anxious tension in your stomach.

It didn’t help that he’d texted you before you’d set off to say, ‘When you get here, come round the side of the house to the back terrace.’ And that had been it.

So, dutifully, you followed the gravel path around the side of his huge, sandstone, ancestral mansion, and emerged onto the upper lawns.

At the sight that greeted you, your fingers lost their strength and you dropped your weekend-bag to the ground.

Standing on the lawn, resting his huge, coppery wing on the thumb joint like a bat, was a gleaming wyvern. Large, perhaps thirty foot tall when he drew his head up to its full height, with metallic scales the same colour as those you’d seen on his human body, ranging from bright copper to tarnished bronze and even gold along the crest of his back, Mikaeïl was stunning.

Drawn by the movement of your arrival, he watched you fall still and stare openly at him, though a soft, familiar, low-frequency rumbling pervaded the whole garden, and the sound of it stirred you back to life.

Leaving your bag where it lay abandoned on the sunny gravel path, you walked over to him with awe etched onto your face, and breathed, “Mikaeïl?”

The wyvern nodded once, slowly, golden eyes glinting.

“Can you talk when you’re like this?” you asked as you continued to approach him.

“I can talk,” he said, though his voice was different. It still had all the delicate enunciation of the Mikaeïl you knew, but it was richer, far more sonorous, and much deeper.

When you were standing beside him, you raised your palm, barely noticing the trembling excitement in your fingers, and pressed it gently against his cool scales.

He lowered his head and sank his body to the ground, lying down for you like a colossal dog while you just explored the miraculous strangeness of his incredible body. “You’re so beautiful…” you whispered. Two horns curved back over his head, the same ruby-red, flecked with gold, that you knew from his other form, only they were so much larger like this.

“God, Mikaeïl,” you chuckled in wonderment. “You are just so beautiful…” He was; fabergé looked like they could have taken inspiration from him for one of their unbelievable creations.

If wyverns could blush, you suspected Mikaeïl might well have done. As it was, his nostrils flared, and his head shied away slightly, showing off the beautiful array of spikes at the edges of his jaw and head, and he rumbled something again more deeply. In response, you put your palm on his deep chest and felt the vibrations of it shiver through you.

Suddenly, the penny dropped about the clothing, and your eyes went wide. “Mikaeïl… when you said to bring warm stuff to wear… You’re not… We’re… We’re not going to…”

A slow, deep laugh rolled out of him and he shifted his weight slightly, drawing your eye from his glimmering scales - each one like hand-hammered bronze - down to his clawed hind feet and the tip of his wing which rested on a single, massive, taloned thumb. While you waited for his reply, your fingers wandered to the leathery, sunset-yellow membrane of his wing, right near the knuckle which propped him up, and a shudder ran through him, all the way to his barbed tail.

“Sensitive?” you murmured with a wry smile.

“Mmm,” he rumbled, lowering his head and slowly, luxuriantly, inhaling the scent of your skin right by your neck. “How do you feel about going for a short flight?” he asked softly.

“Honestly…?” you said breathlessly, “I have no idea. I’ve never, uh… flown before. I mean, not like that…”

“Test flight?” he asked.

“Please tell me that you don’t have spines on your back because I’m not sitting on that and trying to cling on…”

Mikaeïl laughed his rich, deep laugh and said, “Take a closer look at the junction of my neck and shoulders…”

He rolled slightly towards you but still you couldn’t see the top of his back properly, so in the end he had to help you up with his wing like a leg-up onto a horse. His back was smooth for perhaps a foot and a half between the end of his sinuous neck and the start of his back - the perfect space for someone to sit. You ran your hand over the space and he shivered again.  

“It’s like it was made for someone to sit here,” you commented.

“Not quite,” he said dryly, “But my family were royal guards, a thousand years ago - which is why we have three forms: human, half human, and this. We have been known to carry royalty into battle or over long distances…”

“Royalty,” you cooed as he lowered you back to the ground. “Nice… You sure I’m worthy? I’ve never even sat on a motorbike, let alone a wyvern…”

Again, Mikaeïl laughed at your sense of humour, and nuzzled his nose affectionately against your stomach while you rubbed his forehead. His head was as big as a small couch and it was going to take some getting used to, but he was so damned gorgeous that you could hardly process the fact that this magnificent creature was the Mikaeïl you’d come to know.

“Put on a coat to keep warm while we fly, and I’ll take you for a little trial run… if you like. You don’t have to though…”

“You’ve got something else planned though, haven’t you?”

“Yes,” he admitted. “But it’s alright if you don’t want to fly there.”

“No, let’s try it,” you said, as you scuttled back to your bag and dug out the warmest coat you had. You imagined that with the wind rushing past you, even on such a sunny day, it would be cold.

And you were right.

You clambered warily onto his back, settling yourself in the smooth crook of his shoulders, nestled at the base of his neck and the start of his hugely muscular wings. Conveniently, he had two large horn-like spikes at the base of his neck, to which you clung for dear life as he began to flap his wings, trying to get some lift. You clamped your thighs around him as tightly as you could and leaned forward, honestly terrified.

“I won’t let you hurt yourself,” he promised and then you lurched upwards into the sky.

The ground rushed away beneath you and he continued to rise in jerky movements that made your stomach churn and drop each time. Eventually he had climbed as high as the roof of the mansion, and began to glide, the canvas of his great wings spread to catch the air, and you tried hard not to lose your breakfast all over his beautiful scales.

Mikaeïl did one lap of the parkland of his property and then began to descend gradually, spiralling down until the ground rushed up to meet you and he landed with a jolt that his body absorbed before it could throw you from your tenuous position atop his back.

“Alright?” he asked nervously, tilting his head to one side to see you out of the corner of his golden eye.

Taking a moment to catch your breath, with your heart still pounding in your ears, you nodded and swallowed. “Yeah,” you croaked. It had felt like a rollercoaster ride, only much, much wilder. “That was… amazing…!”

His laugh rippled through you and he said, “Why don’t you stow your bag in the conservatory, and if you could lock up, that would be amazing. Then if you’re alright with it, I want to take you somewhere a little further away.”

You nodded, slithering and landing weak-kneed on the grass beside him.  “Come here first,” you said, crooking your finger and beckoning his head closer.

He obliged, curious and amusedly wary, and when his muzzle was level with your face, you took his smooth, leathery head in your hands and kissed him squarely on the tip of his nose. His laugh came out as a warm blast of air through his nostrils, ruffling your hair, and you laughed too as he closed his eyes for a moment, clearly enjoying the closeness and the contact.

Nudging you playfully away after a minute or so, he rumbled happily, the sound halfway between an alligator and an elephant, only much deeper and louder, and you trotted off to do as he requested.

Once back, you ran your hands over his shoulder and chest again, letting the deep, appreciative sounds thrum through you, and watching as he closed his eyes again in pleasure. “You’re going to cause trouble if you keep touching me like that,” he said eventually. “And then I won’t be able to fly.”

“Not decently, anyway,” you grinned and he shook his head, laughter dancing in his yellow eyes.

“Get back on board and we’ll go before you render me incapable of flight altogether.”

“Would that be such a bad thing?” you asked coyly and were met with a snarl that held no danger.

“Get. On.” he said but the fierceness of his tone was ruined by the laugh that bubbled out of him immediately afterwards.

“Fine,” you pouted, and clambered back on his back the same way you’d done before.  

With a final glance up at you, those eyes turned serious and he said, “Are you ready? Comfortable?”

“Yeah. How long will we be in the air?”

“About twenty minutes,” he said. “You let me know if you need me to land though, alright?”

You nodded, and he turned his attention away from you, hind claws gripping the earth as his great leathery wings, the colour of saffron, began to beat again, and he lifted skywards once again.

To be concluded next week...

—

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[teddy-bear-surprise]

Chapter 9: Exit

Masterlist

|| Chapter 1 || Chapter 2 || Chapter 3 || Chapter 4 || Chapter 5 || Chapter 6 || Chapter 7 Part 1 || Chapter 7 Part 2 || Chapter 8 || Almost The End || Chapter 9 ||

The past three and a half weeks had dragged Spencer through all seven levels of hell and back. All remainders of his sense of identity had been stripped away and then stuck back together with dollar-store duct tape. Even with his eidetic memory, superior cognitive skills, and years of extensive psychological training, Spencer had been susceptible to all of Ophelia’s tricks. Every single vision, thought, and emotion that entered Spencer’s conscious mind was hand-crafted and transplanted deep within his mind by Ophelia. He was stuck in a prison that he would never escape, but that was only half the story.

Ophelia was undoubtedly a bright person, though it seemed wrong to pay someone so nefarious such a compliment, and she had devised a detailed and thorough plan. That very plan was what led to Spencer’s downfall. Nothing could stop her once she had her eye set on a goal, and sinking her talons into Spencer’s mind was no different.

Many scientists liked to say that when a person is exposed to high levels of anxiety for prolonged periods of time, their brains will translate every ordinary experience into a moment of desperation. Every moment becomes life or death. Black and white. Winning or losing. And that was all Spencer could see.

Even if he did not explicitly feel his anxiety in that moment, Ophelia’s methods left him exposed to every one of her schemes. He was unaware of his extensive obedience, not complying intentionally, but with an iron fist of fear wrapped around his heart. But each time he acted in Ophelia’s favor, the fist loosened.

As the days rolled by, slowly at first, Spencer began to feel more and more drawn towards her. His fearful heart palpitations shifted into anxious flutters. When he saw Ophelia now, rather than sensing dread in his gut, he felt a kaleidoscope of butterflies in his stomach. It wasn’t shocking that three extensive weeks with an attractive captor led to Spencer’s strong case of Stockholm Syndrome. It happened all the time, and while Ophelia hadn’t planned for it, it proved to be useful.

For the first week, Ophelia would repeat the same routine every day, only modifying the temperature of the interrogation room to add a little kick to her “game”. And every day, Spencer would look at her with the same scared and confused look on his face. Ophelia, obviously, would just ignore it. Every day she would let him get a bit closer to her, making him feel like there was progress being made, that she trusted him, only to trick him and treat him like scum the next day. She tore down the very structure of his understanding of trust. Eyes wide open with fear, Spencer would learn to be wary of every movement that Ophelia made. He slept lightly, listening for the sounds of her footsteps and mentally preparing himself when they did approach him. Though as much as he tried, he was never really prepared for what followed.

Then the next week came along, and suddenly Spencer was spending every waking moment alone. He sat in solitude, hearing nothing more than the sound of his own breath and fabric crinkling whenever he moved. The closest thing to human contact he got during those days was Ophelia pushing a small tray of food into his room at breakfast, lunch, and dinner and then him pushing the tray back out to her after he had eaten. That was probably the longest week of Spencer’s life. Every day that passed by felt like months, and with no windows or clocks, the only way of keeping time was by counting how many seconds had passed between meals. On the longest day, he had counted eleven thousand nine hundred and twenty-five seconds. For each second that he counted, he made a dot on the wall behind him with a marker that Ophelia had given him, and by the end of the week, his wall had turned a whole shade darker.

During the last week, the third one, Ophelia did the complete opposite. She kept Spencer by her side every second of the day, providing him with the desperately needed attention that he craved. She would order him around, playing into his desire for purpose and fulfillment. Each morning, Ophelia would make him write reports for her. She started it as a way to gauge just how much Spencer would be willing to share with her. Unsurprisingly, the emotionally and mentally unstable Dr. Reid had lost the ability to filter his thoughts. The world-class genius labored away for hours, spilling every secret the FBI had shared with him. He told Ophelia all about her mother, he told her about Hotch’s family, he told her about his lowest moments: losing Maeve and letting Cat slip through his hands. In the afternoons, she would send the mentally exhausted man to do meaningless housework. He scrubbed the floors on his hands and knees until his shoulders grew sore, he replaced lightbulbs until his wrists could no longer twist, and he washed dishes until his hands turned pink and pruned. Reid thought nothing of the work and even appreciated the opportunity to rest his aching mind. Their nights, however, were spent together, truly together. Not the kind of together where Ophelia sat on the couch watching Spencer work, but the type where they were no more than a foot apart at any given time. He relished the praise that Ophelia showered him with. She made him feel an unparalleled sense of pride for sharing his secrets. By the end of the week, Spencer had proven himself to be so trustworthy (or brainwashed) that Ophelia felt comfortable falling asleep next to him on the couch.

Somehow, an institution dedicated to delving deep into the minds of America’s most notorious killers had made a fatal mistake. They failed to look into the minds of their own men, letting the team’s brains and hearts fall through the cracks. The BAU’s useless mandatory therapy proved to be nothing but a bandaid over a gaping wound. Because despite all of his intense FBI training, Spencer had already suffered so much trauma that he became the BAU’s weakest link.

Three Days Until New Year’s

A pair of heavy boots crunched loudly against the rocky, sandy walkway, contrasting the eerie silence that preceded it. The boots were attached to a mysteriously hooded figure that walked with confident strides. It was late at night, or maybe early in the morning– no one could say for sure. Only one thing was certain: chaos would soon have the upper hand.

The black boots continued until they reached Ophelia’s window. Peering in, the hooded figure saw Ophelia lazily draped over the couch, accompanied by a dreaming Dr. Reid beside her. An old television set illuminated their motionless figures and let out quiet dialogue as the movie dragged on. Both were in a deep, deep state of sleep, unaware of the scene that was unraveling beyond their dreamscape. The Unsub abandoned the window, tiptoeing towards the garage. The garage door panel, despite being chosen by a “genius”, took only a minute to hijack. The latch clicked open and the door slowly lifted. It buzzed quietly but steadily, and the hooded head turned towards the window every few seconds to check for any signs of Ophelia or Spencer waking up. They never did. With the garage door open, it would be smooth sailing from now on.

The Unsub quickly slid their backpack onto the empty garage’s floor, opening it slowly. The contents of the bag were highly volatile and the Unsub did not want to be anywhere near when that volatile substance lost its stability. Halfway through unzipping, the zipper got stuck, causing the backpack to jolt violently. The Unsub’s breath hitched and their mouth dried up as beads of sweat trailed down their neck and forehead.

Beginning again, slower this time, they moved the zipper smoothly. Once the bag was successfully opened, the Unsub calmed by a degree. They grabbed the flat, red blocks that lay within, careful to avoid tangling the wires attached to the blocks. These carefully packed and handled blocks were those infamous “plastic explosives” that they always showed in movies. They were highly destructive, yet much too easy to buy– considering you had the right contacts, of course. The Unsub stuck the explosives all along Ophelia’s garage walls, making sure to target the home’s main structure by using a wall scanner. They exited the garage and closed it manually to avoid the whir of the garage door motor. With still a handful of explosives left in their possession, the Unsub moved to the side of the house farthest from Ophelia and Spencer, easily boosting the damage without committing full-on murder.

From afar, the Unsub exiting Ophelia’s backyard just looked like an ordinary citizen going for a calming moonlight stroll. But their fast, decisive steps were far from calm and this citizen was in no way ordinary. They walked rapidly for two long minutes and by the time those two minutes had passed, Unsub was far out of the neighborhood’s sight. The Unsub grabbed the remote detonator from their pocket, entering the passcode and pressing the bright red button. A blast shook the ground with fierce intensity and a shiver ran up the Unsub’s spine as they felt the air’s temperature increase by the slightest degree. They turned around to marvel at the brightly lit sky above Ophelia’s house, basking in the sound of chaos engulfing the few residents of Park Ridge Drive.

Inside the rapidly heating home, Ophelia and Spencer felt adrenaline flowing freely through their bloodstreams. Panic permeated their bodies and all rational thought had been abandoned. But even as they felt the fire nearing and the smoke filling their lungs, they didn’t move. They couldn’t move. Just like two mice trapped in a never-ending maze, there was no way out and the Unsub had made sure of it. They sat in desperation, wondering if the past three weeks had all been for nothing.

About ten minutes from the house, the Unsub approached their car, opening the door as a gust of wind flew by. Their hood fell down, revealing short blonde locks and a familiar face. They perched the hood back onto their head. They could hear the sirens approaching and drove away quickly, even passing a police car a few miles later. But alas, the Unsub was already far, far gone by the time first-responders arrived at the scene.

Author’s Note: I decided to leave this chapter a bit vague at the end so I could pick it up again if I ever feel better, but still have just enough closure to let the story "stop"... I'd love to hear any theories or guesses as to what the ending means (it's kinda obvious lol). I'm also so sorry it's not better, but this was the best I could do considering the circumstances.

[fangirlbase]

The Howl of the Moon - Remus Lupin

Summary:

After a terrible accident in the battle at the Ministry in 1995, Hermione Granger wins a one-way ticket to the past. Unable to go back to his time, his only chance for survival is to adapt to the late 70s and get on with his life, interfering as little as possible so that the future does not fall apart.

However, everything goes downhill when Remus John Lupine starts to notice too much the new girl who clearly wanted to go unnoticed by Hogwarts.

Chapters: Prolog | One | Two | Three | Four | Five | Six | Seven

Warnings: mature

                                          6.  The one of the full moon

Three weeks had passed since the last weekend in Hogsmeade, three different moon phases, which indicated that the full moon had finally arrived. Although it would not appear until Wednesday, already by Friday Remus was completely agitated. At first he could not stand still or concentrate on anything at all. At the second, he had bursts of energy at inopportune moments - as well as that time when the fat woman had to open the passage at four in the morning so that he could run in peace to see if he could discharge all that accumulated energy and, above all, the frustration of not having settled with Jean yet. More than the effects of the moon what kept him from getting a good night's sleep was how everything had fallen apart between him and the witch. Since he couldn't stay still in bed, going around the black lake at least fifteen times and climbing the stairs twice without getting tired seemed like a good idea, even if carrying James' invisibility cloak made the whole exercise more complicated.

However, none of this helped him to relax and worse, it only made him reflect how cowardly he was being by not being able to talk to the girl he saw almost every day because she was a classmate and workmate! He had said that they needed to work it out, but he was running away from her and in those three weeks it was the first time that the boy found himself grateful for not being from the same year as the brunette and so they didn't share classes ... But the monitoring had become a real torture simply because the two treated each other as complete strangers, only discussed issues that had to do with the classes and doubts of the students ... Not to mention that all this strangeness between the two consequently made Jean approach Snape, which only infuriated Remus more and more, even without him understanding why she was friends with the slytherin bothered him at that point. .. Of course he had already pointed out his reasons to worry, especially regarding the witch's safety, but the level of anger he felt when he saw the girl with that snotty guy was not proportional and even Lupin knew it, but being so close to the full moon he justified his terrible behavior as one more of the effects of being a werewolf.

 Speaking of the moon's effects on the boy, it wasn't the restlessness, the anxiety, or even the anger that bothered him, but what came after that, the phase that bothered him the most: erections that were more spontaneous than usual, along with an immense desire for sex. Since he didn't have a girlfriend and didn't even allow himself to be with someone, there was only one way to alleviate this situation - and no, ignoring was not an option. He had tried this a few times since he had started puberty at thirteen, and it had not worked. His outbursts were getting heavier, along with the more violent transformations than usual. He didn't consider himself a sex maniac, but the situation was very uncomfortable during the proximity of the moon. I mean, only before and after, but during the moon he didn't complain at all, after all, let's face it, he was a human being and had his desires.

Those days before the full moon were not very different from the previous months. Although the moon was only the next day, his body was already showing signs of exhaustion from fighting the wolf's energy blasts, but that didn't mean he wasn't ready for another one. Locked in the male cabin of the dormitory, Remus played himself almost angrily, wishing it would all be over soon so he could sleep in peace. His movements were quick and hard, rubbing his member without any shame - just holding back his vocalization. It was enough that he felt like a wanker, he didn't need others to call him that. He didn't usually think about much while touching himself, since it wasn't his rational side that was turned on, so he didn't even worry about it much, but that time.... Oh, that time....

Remus knew he was close, speeding up his movements when a vision filled his mind: long, voluminous brown hair, along with a charming smile, grinning at him. The table-splitting during the monitoring, their thighs together, her leaning her head on his shoulder, him holding her hands in front of the Fighting Willow... Without him realizing it, Remus had drastically slowed his movements to a slow pace, just enjoying the occasional memories of the times they had touched each other, smiling with the pleasure he felt. But then the projected image of the licking Moony had proposed the day after his birthday appeared, and along with it the most pornographic scenes between the two of them together. Jean sitting on his lap, Jean sucking him, Jean begging him, Jean moaning his name along with a...

"I like you, Remus"

After that sentence, Remus's eyes widened in terror, but it was too late: the jets of his release were coming out harder than usual, forcing him to bend forward for balance. Had he really touched himself thinking of a person? Worse, of Jean Granger?

Remus felt his pressure drop-both from the strong enjoyment and from all the shame and embarrassment he felt, only having the strength to pull up his pants, wash his hands, and almost fly to his bed, violently closing the canopy curtains. What the hell had happened to him! How had he done such a thing!

Remus couldn't shut his eyes that night, anticipating the last phase before the moon: the one where he looked like he had been beaten by three kangaroos. His whole body ached, deep dark circles settled under his eyes, and his mood was more than acidic - almost effervescent. And of course, the damn erections! But this time he refused to give in to temptation, knowing that he would suffer later, but he didn't care.

No wonder he hid from Jean all day.

Until ten o'clock at night had arrived, and with it the time to go to the House of Screams.

- Are you coming or not? - James joked at Remus's delay in leaving the room.

- I'm coming.

His plan was simple: skim the communal hall and get to the house as quickly as possible, but he hadn't counted on Jean's presence near the fireplace with her face sunk in a book, completely oblivious to their presence. He didn't want to, but her neck almost swiveled like an owl in his direction, just as her scent slapped his already sharp nostrils at that point. If it hadn't been for James pulling on his wrist, he thought it very likely that he would have shoved his face into her neck, only to die of shame later.

What was happening to him?

"I hate you"- Remus threatened Moony, who only had a smug smile on his lips.

- You sick wolf. - he muttered to himself.

But it hadn't been Moony thinking about Jean the day before. Moony was just keeping himself horny, his imagination was solely on Remus. Wolf, I know....

Hurriedly, Remus rushed out of the castle, ignoring Rabicho tightening the Willow knot and heading straight for the largest room in the House, he tried to abstract himself from the smell. Although the boys tried to talk, they couldn't get more than grumbles of pain. By this time they were more than used to seeing their friend naked during the transformation and afterwards as well, since they refused to leave him alone during the whole process.

It was around half past eleven that Remus lost his sanity. It started from his back, with his shoulder blades bending forward, followed by the changes in the bone structure of his legs. His bones snapped breaking and reshaping themselves while his arms changed, with his claws growing sharply and cutting his skin, and finally his jaw changing, complete with the growth of all the fur, as well as that tail.

Troubled, Moony was confused and nervous. The smell still lingered in his nostrils, and it was too good to just enjoy. He wanted to be close, to enjoy it, and to smell it some more, but for that he needed to get out of the box. Almost stepping on the poor little tail, Moony bumped into the branches of Pontas, but interested in the way out. That would be quite a night.

Even under protest, Almofadinhas allowed his friend to pass out, with he and Pontas acting as the werewolf's front guard, preventing him from gaining too much freedom - with poor Rabicho almost hanging on to Almofadinhas' tail, trying to gain space and balance so as not to be left behind. Walks like these were quite common when Moony was calmer, but this time the wolf was quite agitated.

He had even howled at the moon in his desperation! Worried about the lecture they would hear if they found out that instead of the werewolf being trapped in the scream house he and his friends had escaped to run in relative safety through the forbidden forest, the detention did not begin to define the size of the jam they were in. When the boys realized that Moony was getting closer and closer to the castle - which was unusual of the runs that usually got away from the village and Hogwarts, - what was supposed to be a "game" of catch where the deer that was James was usually the wolf's favorite prey in the hunting game had to step in preventing the werewolf from getting any closer to the school grounds and that's when things went downhill. Points and Pillows finally managed to drag Moony to the House of Screams, putting up with all his violence for the rest of the night.

It was no surprise to any of the boys when Remus returned to normal with the sunrise looking like it had been the scene of tap dancing by elephants, hippos, horses and a very angry werewolf in the early hours of the morning - even James and Sirius had some pretty ugly cuts resulting from last night's fight Fortunately Peter had been quick on the healing spells knowing that if Lupin saw what he had done to the others he would feel immensely guilty.

"BORING!" - Shouted the wolf protesting at being suppressed yet again by the witch who was so tired he barely wanted to think about how much his other half still had the nerve to complain!

Completely finished, Remus didn't run away from the infirmary that morning, remaining in the hospital area until shortly after lunch, only then showing up for herbology class which was a colossal waste considering that the healing potions had left him so doped up that he just propped his head on one hand and kept counting how many leaves the potted mandrake seedlings on the shelf next to the teacher's board had. Unfortunately for him, it was a Thursday, which meant that he would spend at least an hour with Jean, in a very low-traffic environment, and he hadn't even settled down yet.

Feeling trapped in a nightmare, Remus crept into the transfiguration room, seeing that Jean was already in her usual place. Although he approached cautiously, the girl's natural perfume filled the room temptingly, and with his sense of smell still heightened by the recent transformation, he needed all the control he had and didn't have not to simply hug the girl like a madman and ask her forgiveness for being an idiot! But who said he could? The smell stirred his entire nervous system and caused him to act without thinking.

In a burst Remus threw his backpack aside along with his sanity and any rationality he proudly admitted to having, and ended the distance between them in stride, coming face to face with the girl.

Jean looked as beautiful as ever, the afternoon sun streaming in through the skylight, and for a second Remus could almost imagine how her angry curls would look in that light. He could easily blame Moony for his attitude as he gripped the witch's waist tightly and with his other hand pulled her neck close. When he captured the brunette's lips between his own in a dashing kiss he could no longer lie to himself, it was he who desperately wanted to kiss her. It was he, Remus Lupin, who wanted Jean Granger as something much more special than a friend, much more than a co-worker with whom he shared the responsibilities of monitoring. He wanted everything!

Surprisingly he was reciprocated, the witch thrusting her body forward attacked his mouth with more vigor, waging a real battle with their tongues, being instigated by the movement of the brunette's body, Lupin pulled her closer.

- Remus... - Jean sighed.

- Remus... - That sound was far away, but they were the only two in the room.

- Remus? - Jean's voice was present in front of him, waking him from his reverie.

Shaking his head, Lupin realized that he was standing in the middle of the room, staring at nothing. He felt his body on fire with shame. For Merlin! The wizard tried to turn around, he needed to get out of there before he did something similar to what he had imagined, but was stopped by her.

- Did something happen? - Hermione asked worriedly, standing in front of him, blocking his way. As far as she knew transformations left you finished, not looking like a cherry tomato.

- I.... I'm just feeling a little sick. - Remus closed his eyes, shaking his head hard, practically holding his breath.

"Hehehe" - Moony laughed in the face of danger, yawning and falling into unconsciousness lulled by the delicious aroma of old book and honeyed oranges.

Hermione stood on tiptoe and put her hand on the older man's forehead, being sure about his elevated temperature.

- You look a bit feverish to me... Why don't you go rest? I take care of things around here, I'm sure Minerva wouldn't mind.

Seriously tempted to accept the offer, Remus heard Snape's voice talking to Malcides in the distance down the hall, immediately changing his mind - who knows why.

- It's nothing so bad... - Remus declared marching over to his usual wallet - but I can't guarantee anything about staying conscious. - He made a pillow out of his backpack, staying as comfortable as possible, even if alert, until he was sure that in the event the sonserinos hadn't come for monitoring.

And well, just when he thought he had abstracted himself from the outside world, he felt Jean's scent once again close to his body, along with an extra layer of protection on his back.

- Like it or not, you might be running a fever. - She declared, placing the cover of her uniform over him before sitting down at the next desk and beginning to rehearse ignoring him again.

Remus was too tired to think or argue, falling asleep soon after. But if things weren't looking too good for the griffin, for Hermione, who was still upset about the fight, they only got worse when she saw Lily walk through the door.

- Is everything alright? - The redhead ventured, not liking the younger girl's hard stare. - Don't worry, I just came to see how Remus is doing.

- Sleeping. - He answered with false indifference, turning back to his parchment.

- It's just that he's never spent this much time in the infirmary... - Lily let slip, turning back after noticing Jean's eyebrow arched in suspicion. - He wasn't feeling well and of all the times he had been sick, this was the worst!

- Do you know what happened? - Hermione asked, and seeing Lily's panicked expression, decided to help. - He came here with a fever, but refused to go to the infirmary.

- Fever? - That was news.

- Yeah. Lethargy, red body, hot forehead, and unexplainable tiredness. Do you know where he might have gotten sick?

- I have no idea, but he is a little.... Fragile.

Fragile! Did they really use that excuse?

Hermione had to hold back the urge to roll her eyes, but she began to worry more about her roommate. Even if they weren't "on good terms" she didn't want him to get sick, especially after such a difficult night of the full moon as she inferred after the redhead's speech. Then sighing resignedly she put away her materials.

- He can't afford to stay here, the castle is freezing and if he's really sick like this he needs to be warm and comfortable, not sleeping in his purse.

- I'll try to fix that. - and disappearing for the next fifteen minutes, Lily returned with James following her, her features genuinely concerned.

The last time Remus had been sick was when Moony had jumped into the semi-frozen lake at Christmas three years earlier, providing the poor guy with pre-pneumonia - along with a shrinking wolf of shame in his mind.

He was a water wolf, damn it!

- Did he say anything? - James asked worriedly.

- He told a certain Moony to stop bothering him. - Hermione replied, having monitored her friend's sleep. - And he ordered fries with arugula.

- Wouldn't that be dried tomatoes with arugula? It's his favorite salad. - James corrected while trying to wake Remus up.

- There is a big difference in vocalization from potato to tomato.

- Actually, not much.

- One is a vegetable and one is a fruit!

- But...

- Arguing about his salad preference is not going to help at all now. - Lily interrupted the crazy conversation. - James, can you help me carry him to the Common Room?

James merely agreed, walking over to his friend and crouching down beside him, checking his temperature-which, although already normalized, he preferred to use as an excuse to take him for some well-deserved rest. The night had been violent, as it had not been for many years.

- Moony? - James tested, being ignored. - Remus? - He was relieved to see his friend's eyes blink sleepily.

- Tip...? - Remus didn't understand why his friend was there, after all, Potter was one of the group that only showed up at the monitorship the week before the exam, completely desperate.

- Let's go to the dorm, you don't look so good. - James stroked his back, situating the teenager.

- No....?

- No, Jean said you had a fever and asked Moony to leave you alone. Shouldn't you go to the dorm?

Remus merely nodded, getting up with difficulty. Ignoring Jean's existence, he leaned on James while Lily carried his backpack, thanking Jean for warning him.

Hermione in turn almost followed, but it wasn't as if they were still friends... not after what he had said on the walk in Hogsmeade. And for the first time in a long time she missed her time of her friends, unconsciously she had clung to the presence of Remus, Lily and the naughty ones, but there in that empty room she realized how alone she was.

She was the alien in that time and as much as she wanted to fool herself she couldn't change the future. She should never have approached them in the first place, so sighing resignedly she told herself that it didn't affect her! She needed to focus on her studies!

___________

- Ask her, Jamie! - Lilly pleaded with her boyfriend, who was trying to concentrate on that afternoon's quadribol game.

- Why don't you ask her yourself?

- Don't you see how she runs away from me?

- And why don't you ask Remus?

- He won't like me asking about her. Please, James! I never asked you for anything!

- Lily, saying that every time you ask me for something doesn't make your point any more valid! But what can I not do for you...? - James melted, stealing a brief kiss from the redhead, before addressing the rookie, who was just finishing descending the dormitory stairs.

- Hey, Newbie! Are you going to the game today? - drawing the attention of a few curious listeners.

- Are your fans so bad that you need to buy other people's fans? - Hermione couldn't help herself, laughing internally at Potter's affectedly offended expression.

- You'll be cheering for me then? - Sirius asked excitedly, coming down the stairs after her.

He had forgotten his gloves in his room, returning just in time to hear the teasing.

- Harry.... I mean, Potter has a better chance of getting my cheers than you do, Black. - Hermione let slip absently.

- What does he have that I don't have?

- He doesn't give me a hard time.

- UUUUI.... - Peter whistled, armed with his fan costume that would make Luna Lovegood jealous.

But Remus didn't opine on the matter - preferring to remain stretched out on the couch in front of the fireplace pretending to be part of the furniture. Since the moon two weeks ago he had avoided as much as possible being alone with her, or thinking about her, or talking to her. He was deeply bothered by her perverted thoughts, as well as her request that Moony stop tormenting him that she had listened to, preferring to play dumb by saying it was a nickname, but she shouldn't have missed him, since she hadn't sought him out either.

He really thought that she didn't intend to go to the game that Saturday so that his afternoon would be another time when he could get peace of mind by focusing on cheering for James and Sirius with equal animation as Peter demonstrates glued to the protective bar of the bleachers - but when he saw those brown hairs three seats to his left in the bleachers, he couldn't stand to stay away any longer and without really reflecting simply sat down next to the girl.

Hermione just sighed resignedly when she realized that it was Remus who had taken the vacant seat next to her and when she realized that the other would start talking she couldn't contain herself.

- Now you talk to me? - she poked. And she mentally slapped herself because even though she told herself that the witch's estrangement didn't affect her and that it was actually the best thing since she shouldn't mess with the past, but there she was unable to hold her tongue or hide her displeasure with the whole situation.

- You haven't spoken to me these days either. - Lupin might have sounded offended as if it was all her fault in the end, but his tone was completely pitiful because this was the reality that their estrangement was killing him little by little.

Hermione looked at Remus and all she could think was that he looked like a real puppy that fell out of the move.

- You know I would never ask you to stay away from James and your friends, I just wanted to prove my point, it wasn't supposed to be a choice or put you up against the wall or anything like that, but I didn't think you'd walk away from me like that.

She was tired of playing hard to get. By Merlin, she was only 16! She had lost her friends, her family, her own time, and just when she thought she could finally accept the reality she was in - as Minerva had suggested by making new friends, pursuing her studies and dreams - Remus who had become such a dear friend had simply stopped talking to her. And worse, she felt as if it was her fault, as if she had told him to choose and in this case he had chosen the others, leaving her alone.

Right after the fight she felt extremely let down by Lupin and all his prejudice towards the sonserino, not to mention his insistence on turning a blind eye ignoring the inexcusable attitudes of the other rascals. Then she felt anger, she felt truly outraged by the fact that the boy was acting all macho towards her as if to say: "I have to defend the fragile and foolish Hermione who can't tell friend from foe.

She was never helpless!

She was a highly trained and capable witch, who had faced a Mountain Trasgo at the age of eleven (even though in this case it was Harry and Ron who incapacitated the magical creature while she was hiding under the sink, but yelling is part of it, it gives encouragement and moral support) and then survived long enough to be nose to nose with an enraged wolf (the same one that was now overprotecting her) when she howled at him at the age of thirteen! Okay, it was exactly because she got careless in the battle of the ministry that she ended up in that mess, but if it hadn't been for her, Harry and Ron would have spent half of their school days in the infirmary.  And now came the melancholy, she hadn't felt this sad and alone since Halloween in her first year.

- You said you cared about me and that's why you didn't want me to hang out with Severus, but avoiding me is not something a caring friend would do. - And for a second she had to take a deep breath to keep from bursting into tears, luckily everyone around her was too alert to the game to notice her or Lupin.

   And there, seeing the girl he claimed to be his best friend so unhappy about something he had done Remus felt like a real and complete idiot!

   - I'm sorry. - Remus sighed defeated. - You were right about everything! I can't tell you who can be your friend, and yes, everyone deserves a second chance... I hate the way things are between us! You are my best friend and I want you to stay that way! I just didn't know how to fix all this... Damn, I still hate seeing you hanging out with Snape, but that's my problem and I didn't have to say all that to you! I'm sorry for being such a jerk... Can I ask you a question?

    Hermione laughed lightly and answered as the boy had answered when she had asked the question that had started the whole fight.

- She just did.

- Would it be too much to ask for a second chance too?

   - No, it wouldn't. Even if you were a complete prejudiced jerk!

   A stabbing.

- And it's not like I'm some helpless witch who needs you to protect me! - Well, not specifically, but Snape did, to protect her from Moony that night fifteen years ahead.

   Another stab.

- But it's like I said, everyone deserves a second chance and I would really be happy if we could continue to be friends without any resentment. - She concluded relieved after getting all that off her chest.

"Just... friends?" - Moony asked sadly, feeling Remus' heart also wither like a birthday balloon at the end of the party.

- I am very happy about that...- Remus replied with a yellow smile on his face, making Jean suspicious of his real feelings.

Friend was better than colleague, wasn't it?

- You don't seem very happy....

- It's not that, I'm really happy, it's just that I'm not that much of a fan of quadribol, especially when we're losing. James will be unbearable later in the dorm, and after all our... this mess, I just wanted some peace. - He confessed, looking tired.

- Did I keep you up that much? - Hermione said playfully, happy to be back in the mood for the casual banter between the two of them, but soon noticed the pink confusion on Lupin's face.

- Not you specifically! M-but the whole situation itself.

"LIE!" - His conscience had shouted, muffling the shout Moony was about to give.

"I'm glad you know"-The wolf agreed.

- Do you want to get out of here? I'm not willing to watch Pettigrew cuss all and more when James loses his pomo in a little while.

- The two of us sneaking out of a quadribol game seems a bit suspicious to me, Miss Granger.

- I see it more as two not interested in quadribol going away for their mental sanity living in the silly uncertainty of not knowing who really won or lost.

- I'll take it, but only if you answer my other question. Why do you come to the games if you get such a frowny expression?

- Quadribol reminds me of a very dear person. - he said with a genuine wistful smile on his face. - Even though I hate everything about this extremely violent and unsafe game. Watching the matches refreshes my memory, but not enough to want to see a Potter and Black being badly beaten.

And with an understanding smile, Remus placed his hand at the base of her back - just so they wouldn't get lost, of course - as he led her toward the steps of the bleachers and then followed her away from the field, wasting the next thirty minutes in the Commons Hall enjoying each other's company, betting the exact moment James Potter would come in like a hurricane through the portrait, ignoring the presence of the two. Despite not being able to move around much in the stands, Remus Lupin and Jean Granger spent much of the late afternoon and early evening half cuddled on the couch in front of the fireplace, re-establishing the bond of super best friendship - a friendship with many more physical touches if it were up to the Lupine subconscious in question.

[hedwigstalons]

High Expectations - Ch18

Short fic?  Really?  How the hell have we reached chapter 18 already?  

@willow-salix has been a huge support all the way through.  She wields the red pen mightily

Earlier parts: One, Two, Three, Four, Five, Six, Seven, Eight, Nine, Ten, Eleven, Twelve, Thirteen, Fourteen, Fifteen, Sixteen, Seventeen

AO3 chapter link

Chapter Eighteen

John closed the apartment door and basked in the silence.  The last few weeks had been awful but the last few days had been hellish.  If you had asked him two days ago what had been the hardest part of this summer he would have answered without hesitation his thesis defence interview, not because he had any difficulty with his project but because, even after 4 years at Harvard some of the faculty still struggled with his presence.  

He had bounced onto the quad aged sixteen, looking more like twelve, and instantly made a name for himself by criticising the work of one of the more well respected professors on campus.  It probably hadn’t helped that he had been right.  Since then he had been dogged by whispers of ‘Daddy’s money’ or heckled as an android freak as he eschewed the company of the peers that would never truly be peers due to the gaps in both age and intellect.  University had been a bittersweet mix of unbridled access to learning mixed with a social web to navigate that made high school look like an insignificant warm up.  The culmination of it all had been his thesis defence in front of a panel who didn’t know whether to be intimidated by him or offer him a cookie for being a good boy.  Still, he was walking away from it all, with dual honours and a postgraduate distinction, at an age not dissimilar from those just starting their higher education journey.

The troubles and torments of university, however, had nothing on the hell on Earth that was Boston airport for an extended period of time. He could now categorically say that this had been the worst part of the summer.  The route between east and west coast seemed to be plagued by delays but this, his final time of making the journey, had topped the lot.  Being held up for an unspecified period of time in an airport lounge had brought out the worst in humanity and after a delay that had pushed past 36 hours in the end he would be quite happy to never see another human ever again.  With the apartment door firmly shut on the outside world he fully intended to recharge and bask in the solitude before Alan got home from school.

He padded up the hallway to deposit the travel bag containing a few meagre essentials in his room but never made it that far.

The apartment might have been silent but it wasn’t empty.  His room was next to Alan’s and through the open door he could see that self same teenager sat cross legged on the bed, head set on, controller in hand and eyes glued to the screen that flashed with neon laser cannons and moved at a dizzying pace.  Part of him wanted to tiptoe on past, pretend he hadn’t spotted his younger brother, and collapse onto his own bed.  John could have sworn that he hadn’t done anything that could penetrate the teenager’s electronic cocoon but before he had crossed the doorway Alan’s head whipped round and fixed him with an intense blue stare.

Alan paused the game, dropped the controller next to him and slid off the headset.  He continued to stare in a way that he could see was making his older brother uncomfortable, holding the eye contact that always made John squirm a little, but at this point he didn’t care.

The weeks before Gordon’s departure had been busy.  With a fixed deadline firmly etched on the calendar Jeff had ramped up the pressure on Gordon to gain his pilot’s licence and all the myriad of special endorsements he would need beyond the basics in order to complete a cross-continental journey solo.  Alan wasn’t quite sure why such a high rated licence was necessary but he had appreciated all the extra time at the airfield it necessitated.  Almost every weekend had been spent there so that Gordon could get in the required practice and he had always tagged along, partly to spend more time with Gordon and partly in the hope of getting a lesson himself; it turned out flying was something he had a flair for and he relished those precious moments in the cockpit.  But then Gordon had gained his licence and the lessons had dried up.  Time in the sky went from being a priority to something his father was too busy to provide.  It rankled that he wasn’t worth the effort. 

And then the dreaded day had come.  The day he lost the brother he was closest to to the military might of WASP.  He’d probably come across as petulant and moody, his goodbyes stilted and brief, but the sullen exterior had been his armour protecting him from breaking as something inside him died.  He hadn’t even been able to go with Gordon on the trip up the coast as had been the original plan.  A last minute change had seen their father disappear off on some mysterious overseas errand, leaving Virgil to play taxi service to the WASP to be.  He had begged to go too but unfortunately for him the start date for Gordon had coincided with Scott having some leave and Virgil was staying up north to indulge in some oldest brother bonding time.  So he had been left behind, alone in the apartment, with the promise that John would have arrived by morning. 

Morning had dawned but the promised sibling hadn’t appeared.  The logical side of him knew there would be a perfectly rational explanation for John’s delay but the emotional side of him just added it to the heap of rejection he was feeling.  No one gave a damn about him.  Noone cared what he was doing.  He’d turned right around and headed back into his room to kill zombies.  When the second morning dawned and he was still alone the only difference it made was that the zombies were replaced by asteroids.  

John was pinned uncomfortably by the stare.  Everything about Alan screamed out that he was issuing a challenge, daring John to pass comment.  If he had ignored John’s presence he probably would have been left alone but John was a Tracy too and as with all Tracys he never could resist a challenge. 

“No school today?” he queried, one eyebrow raised in preemptive skepticism.

“Does it look like it?”

“What it looks like is you playing video games on a Tuesday in term time.  The news didn’t mention any schools being flattened by freak hurricanes so why are you here?”

Alan just shrugged and went to pick up his controller again.

“Alan!” 

“What?!  It’s not like there’s any point me being there.”

“There is always a point to school.”

“Yeah?  Well I’m not learning anything there, the stuff they set is just insulting.”

This was one point John could empathise with, boredom in the classroom was a familiar feeling to him.  He felt lucky that he had met forward thinking teachers early on in his school career.  Teachers that had put the effort in to find out his level rather than being happy to have a coasting child in the class that didn’t need their assistance.  The result had seen him progressing through grade school at a pace that, while it still felt slow to him, at least meant he wasn’t inflicted with the full, tortuous twelve years.  Alan on the other hand had been forced to stay firmly in his age grade. 

“What about your friends, surely you’re bored here without them?”

That just earned him an eye roll.

“Can we just skip the questions and head straight to the part where you lecture me.”

“Would it make a difference?  I’m not Dad but you do realise he is going to be majorly pissed when he finds out, don’t you?”

“He’ll only find out if you tell him.”

“You think he won’t find out from school?”

Alan just sighed.

“Seriously Johnny, Gordon and I got all comms from school diverted directly to us years ago.  I’ve already responded to their email.”

“You and Gordon did that?” He was secretly a little impressed that his brothers had found a way to bypass the school systems although he was concerned that their father had seemingly never noticed.

“Well, okay, I did that.  Gordon’s not so hot on the technical stuff but it was his idea.  Dad’s never been that great at dealing with letters and permission slips so I just got in through a school admin account and updated the contact details.  If it’s not a report card he isn’t interested.”

John decided not to pass comment on the low level hacking his baby brother had pulled off.  Instead he picked his way across the minefield that was Alan’s floor to join his little brother on the bed.  The mattress felt deliciously soft compared to the plastic seat upon which he had been forced to spend the night and he felt his bones sigh in relief.  His own bed was still calling out to him but his big brother instincts were screaming at him to fix things, even if he wasn’t entirely sure what he needed to fix.  The screaming won.  He leaned across to grab a second controller off the cluttered bedside unit and synced it into the game.

“So, what’re we playing?  I don’t recognise this one but then there wasn’t much time for gaming at Harvard.”

Alan looked bemused by the turn of events.  Scott held an authority that demanded respect, Virgil would take a softer and more caring approach, Gordon provided a mix of straight talking and fun whereas their father subscribed to the school of parenting that was mostly indifferent until an indiscretion was unearthed.  John was still a bit of an unknown entity, he’d never taken on the role of authority figure for Alan and he couldn’t work out his brother’s strategy.  

  “Uh, it’s something I made myself.”  Alan disconnected his headset and the background music of the pause screen sounded out harshly in the otherwise quiet apartment eliciting an involuntary wince from John.  He guiltily turned the volume down to a more comfortable level before resuming play.

They sat side by side in silence for a few minutes, blasting asteroids and navigating their way through a fast moving debris field.  The game concept appeared simple and John wondered why Alan had done it; it wasn’t like he couldn’t afford to stock up on the commercially available games.

“Games design is a new one for you, this a school project or something?”

John sensed the eye roll even without taking his own eyes off the screen.

“Hardly.  School sucks.”

“So, why make the game?”

“It’s not about the game.  I wanted to see if I could model a debris field.  Thought if I could get it right it could be good training, you know, before astronaut school.”  

“I think you’ll find Tracy College already has their own simulators.  How do you even know this is accurate.”  Alan had made no secret about his desire to head into space and it looked like that was still the life plan.  Part of John hoped the game wasn’t accurate, the objects were flying in thick and fast and he was struggling to react in time to find a clear path for his craft and guide it through.  Alan, on the other hand, was having no such difficulties; his movements were lightening fast and the game seemed to hold no challenge for him.

“Borrowed your books.”  Alan set his own controller down as John’s ship took a direct hit and exploded in a mass of technicolour pixels that ended the game.  He stretched out and plucked a weighty tome off the edge of his desk.

“Borrowed?  I don’t remember you asking.”  John recognised the volume as one of the few undergraduate text books he had investing in the hard copy of.  Slips of coloured paper stuck out at intervals and the pages were rather more worn and well thumbed than he remembered.  

Alan pointedly ignored the question and instead flipped through to the relevant pages.  

“I’m not sure if I got this bit right though.  I struggled to combine the effect of an explosion induced debris field interacting with a meteor shower.”

However John had been expecting his talk to go with Alan, it hadn’t been like this.  He soon found himself drawn into an animated discussion of the core principles of astrophysics and how material behaved in a vacuum.  Alan’s grasp of the subject, considering he was entirely self taught, surprised the elder Tracy.  On his rare visits home Alan had always pestered him to go star gazing or asked him his thoughts on the latest developments in astronaut training but he’d had no idea that Alan’s interest had extended into him seemingly attempting to study most of the first year of his Harvard course from home.  No wonder the kid was bored at school.  

When Jeff returned later that night it was to find the two boys deeply engrossed in some project or other.  Books and piles of scribbled notes lay scattered around them and John’s fingers danced through lines of holographic code as he pointed out some facet or other to the younger boy who seemed to hang on his every word.  He assumed John was helping Alan with his homework and thought no more of it as he settled down to his own evening. 

xoxoxox

“Mr Tracy, a Miss West is on the line for you.”

Jeff frowned at the unexpected intrusion from his personal assistant.  “Miss West?”  He couldn’t place the name.

“She says she is calling from the High School, Sir”

“Put her through then.”  He paused a moment until the slight click indicating a change in caller reached his ears.  

“Mr Tracy?  I’m Sarah West, Alan’s home room teacher.”  The woman on the other end of the call sounded slightly nervous and with good reason, the Tracy reputation was formidable and seeing Alan’s name on her class list when he had joined the school had led to rounds of commiserations in the faculty lounge.

“Miss West, what can I do for you?”  He tried to keep the puzzlement out of his voice.  The last time he had received a call from the school, or any kind of communication now he came to think about it, had been over Gordon’s suspension.  He hoped he was not in for a repeat of that embarrassing incident.

“I just wanted to check on how Alan was doing.  The class are all missing him and hope he is able to return to school soon.”

Jeff understood the words being spoken but the actual sentiments made no sense.  As far as he was concerned Alan was at school at that very moment.  He kept his voice carefully neutral.

“I thank you for your concern Miss West.  I will certainly pass on your regards when I see Alan this evening.”

“Thank you Mr Tracy.  Please accept my best wishes for you and all your family, it can be so hard when these things happen.  Please keep me informed of his progress through the parent portal and once Alan is well enough to come back we will look at putting a catch up and transition programme in place for him.  Alan is a bright boy and I have every confidence that he will be able to catch up with these missed weeks.”

“Thank you Miss West.  I will of course keep you informed.  Now if you will excuse me.”

“Of course Mr Tracy, goodbye.”

“Goodbye Miss West.”

Missed weeks.  The words rang out in his head, causing him to rub his temples.  Trouble at school had always been Gordon’s domain, he’d been gone for months but still his influence was being felt.  Alan had always taken after John until now; good grades, generally studious and with a passion for space. Whatever was going on Jeff knew he needed to nip it in the bud.  Pausing only to inform his PA that he would be heading out for lunch and might not return that day Jeff headed back to the apartment.

Jeff found Alan in his room, engrossed in some project or other.  He rapped smartly on the doorframe, breaking the teen’s concentration and causing him to look round in surprise.  The look Jeff was treated to wasn’t one of fear or remorse though and there was certainly no sign of guilt at being caught where he shouldn’t.

“Alan, my study.  Now!”  He strode off down the hallway without waiting for a response.

Alan sighed and followed, knowing that to ignore a direct command would be foolish.  By the time he reached the study Jeff was already behind the desk in his customary position for dispensing judgement, a situation Alan had rarely been in but had certainly heard about often enough from Gordon.  He was more than a little intimidated at the prospect of what was to come but he tried not to let it show as he stood there, ramrod straight, waiting for his father to make the opening move.

“So Alan, I had an interesting call from Miss West today.  Explain yourself”  

The words caused Alan’s stomach to drop, there was no way he could pass today off as an isolated incident now.  He had been signing off on his absences via the parent portal but if his teacher had actually called up then it was likely his father knew everything.  Not knowing what to do for the best he opted to say nothing.  The silence stretched out uncomfortably as he felt himself being appraised by eyes as hard as flint.

“I see.  Let’s keep this simple.  How long have you been skipping school for?”

“Since the beginning of the semester.”  There was no point lying about it now.  After his few days of indiscretion when Gordon first headed off to WASP John had made sure he went off to school each day.  At the end of the summer holidays though, with John and Virgil departed for Tracy College, there was no one to force the issue.  September had arrived and with it the start of a new school year but among the faces arriving for a fresh round of learning Alan’s had been notably absent.

“Why?  Your teacher seems to be under the impression you are unwell.  Are you unwell?”  The skeptical lilt to the voice and raised eyebrow would have made even John proud.

“No.”

“So why are you risking failing high school?” 

“Failing it?”  Alan snorted  “School’s boring.  I’d be able to get my diploma now if they’d just stick me in the right classes, then I could be done with the place.”

“And what makes you think you could complete your diploma now if you won’t attend class” 

“John did.”  Alan’s chin jutted out in defiance and Jeff was given a sudden and uncomfortable reminder of another son who had found school far too easy.  The arguments may have had a different focus but Alan wouldn't be the first Tracy to have found the system too limiting, the difference being that John had been fast tracked before the boredom got too much.  “I’m not learning anything at school.  It’s not like I’m just flunking out though, John’s been sending me some stuff through that’s far more interesting.”

“That’s as maybe but did John tell you to just ditch classes?  I seem to remember him maintaining an exemplary attendance record”

For the first time Alan felt a wave of guilt, the weight of it causing him to bow his head in shame.  John may have agreed with him that the school work he was being set was far too easy and been coaching him on more challenging topics to feed his thirst for knowledge on all things astronomical, but his brother would never have condoned him skipping class.  He was not going to let John take any of the blame for his choices.

“No, Sir.”  

“I see.”

Alan wasn’t quite sure what it was his father saw as he stood there being appraised like some interesting specimen.  There was another drawn out silence.  He could almost hear his father’s thoughts as he considered his next move.

“Show me.”  Alan’s head jerked up in confusion.  “Persuade me.  A key skill you would learn in school, if you were there, is how to present a well balanced and constructed argument.  Prove your case.  I’ll be here waiting.”

Alan had been expecting some sort of reprimand, either a bawling out or a quietly pronounced punishment.  So far he had received neither and he was feeling a little on the back foot but then his father had a flair for the unexpected, it’s what made him a formidable adversary in the boardroom.  He retreated to his room to think upon the challenge.  He wasn’t sure what he wanted to prove, didn’t have a clue what his argument was or what he wanted to achieve but he knew he had better come up with a plan fast.  It felt like he was being offered a lifeline of some sort but a lifeline that had the potential to cut you down if grasped in the wrong way.

He retreated into his room and sat down at the desk, the detritus of his latest project from John scattered in front of him where he had abandoned it at his father’s command.  What did he want?  He knew he didn’t want to go back into that hell-pit high school, each day of drudgery just sapped the life out of him, but how could he prove to his father that school was only holding him back?  He gazed unseeingly as the scribbled formulae he had been working on, all the time conscious that his father wouldn’t wait forever.

Those same formulae presented him with his answer.  His father had always been focussed on results, getting the most efficient return on his investment and abhorred anything he viewed as a waste of time.  Alan knew that if he could prove beyond doubt that attending school was just wasting precious learning time then he might never have to go back.  He started gathering together the work he had been doing for John as evidence that he really didn’t need to sit through another hour of basic trigonometry when he was already able to apply it to complex problems.  

Jeff sat back and waited.  He couldn’t predict Alan’s next move but then he realised he didn’t really know Alan at all.  All the way through the young boy’s life his care had fallen to others.  Others had formed him and moulded him and evidently turned Alan into someone capable of missing several weeks of school under his nose without him realising.  Those influences had all been evident during their short exchange.  He had witnessed Gordon’s defiance and determination, John’s intellect and Virgil’s sense of justice.  Even traces of Scott were evident in the set of Alan’s jaw and the way he held his shoulders despite Scott only really being present for half of Alan’s short life.  How telling that a brother absent some eight years held more influence than he did as father.  If there was one thing common to all his sons though it was the ability to rise to a challenge; the afternoon had the potential to be surprising.

Jeff never made it back to the office.  He couldn’t remember the last time he had had a meaningful and in depth discussion with his youngest son.  His conversations with Alan were normally limited to a few perfunctory exchanges in the evening and maybe a goodbye if Alan was up before he headed to the office.  Over the course of the afternoon he got more insights into Alan than any mere report card could give.  For a start those bland documents could only show that Alan had met the maximum expected standard for his class, behind the lists of grades his son’s true abilities had been hidden.  

Alan might have been skipping school but he hadn’t been squandering his time.  Jeff was treated to comparisons of the high school math curriculum compared to the problems John had been setting, ostensibly as a way of Alan bolstering a future college application as the middle Tracy had been unaware that the youngest had abandoned his traditional studies completely.  Physics, coding and a raft of other topics handy for the modern astronaut similarly followed and it became clear that Alan was willing to put the effort in on the topics that interested him. 

Once Alan had finished lambasting the Californian education system he turned hopeful eyes on his father.

“So, can I quit?” 

If there was one thing that Jeff agreed on it was that the current curriculum being inflicted on Alan was uninspiring and certainly not challenging for the youngster.  He was also conscious that his lawyers had not managed to secure the removal of their family tragedy from the text books in time for this academic year and therefore Alan would be subjected to the same ordeal as Gordon in just a few short months time if he stayed in the classroom.   However, he also knew that without a high school diploma Alan would be unlikely to be able to access the higher education he needed to turn his dreams of space into a reality; he knew this from his own path to the stars.

“No.”   

“But Dad…” 

“No Alan, I will not have any son of mine walking away from education without a high school diploma.  If you are at all serious about becoming an astronaut then you need to play by the rules, without a diploma you would be ineligible for any of the space programmes out there.”  

Jeff watched the disappointment flood his son’s features and wondered if Alan had really been paying attention to his words and whether he would spot the loophole in his pronouncement.  He waited as Alan put together his next move, he could almost see the thoughts as they played out.  Alan always had been the son to wear his emotions closest to the surface.

“I just have to get my diploma, right?”  There was a hesitancy as a glimmer of hope was seized on.

“That’s right.”

“But there are other ways of getting my diploma, not just in school.  Right?”  

“Potentially.  So what do you want to do?”

“Can I...can I do homeschool?  I’m sure we’ve got everything I need to join an online programme and then just get it done.”

Jeff paused as though contemplating the request.  Really, having Alan homeschooled would be better for both of them; Alan could learn at his own pace and he would find it easier to have oversight of his son’s progress and commitment.  

“You have until the end of the week to find a suitable programme otherwise I will march you straight back to the classroom myself on Monday morning.  I know you don’t see the point of half the subjects you have to take but they are important, your diploma is important, even if it’s only as a paper steppingstone to better things.”  Jeff found himself on the receiving end of one of Alan’s grins and realised sadly that he hadn’t seen one of those since their last flying lesson.  “Now, don’t you have some research to do?”

Alan took the hint and headed out of the study with far more bounce than he’d had when entering it.  Jeff had no concerns about delegating the task to his son, the similarities to John had been clear to see and he had every faith that Alan would find a suitable programme within the allotted time frame.  The fact that the change to homeschooling came with the added bonus of one less loose end to tie up when the time came to relocate was not lost on him.

[srhlsx]

Rewritten & Reposted March 24, 2021

MASTER | Ch. 18 |  CHAPTER 19 | Ch. 20 End

Everything was falling into place, finally.

You sat on the train, tightly bundled in your winter coat and a wool scarf wrapped around your neck, leaning against Bokuto who was sitting next to you. He’d lazily draped an arm across the back of your seat which opened up his body for prime cuddling real estate and you moved right in.

He was making a joke with Kuroo who sat directly across from you, next to Rumi, then his golden eyes flashed to Akaashi sitting next to him looking for approval. Akaashi did not laugh, merely raised his eyebrows slightly and nodded along with whatever Bokuto was ranting about now. The feeling of absolute comfort was almost overwhelming for you and you couldn’t help the giddy laugh bubbling up inside of you and you expressed it in the form of tightly squeezing your arms wrapped around Bokuto’s middle. He looked down at you and squeezed back.

It was New Years and since the five of you were taking the train out of the city, it was virtually empty and your rambunctious laughter didn’t bother anyone. 

The visit to the quiet shrine on the outskirts of Tokyo was something you had originally planned with just Rumi, hoping to find a little bit of luck before Nationals. Then things with Bokuto got more serious and he didn’t want to be left out, which also meant that Kuroo and Akaashi would be joining you as well. You didn’t mind because this was the happiest you’d been in over a year. You had exited the train, hand in hand with the tall boy, and made your way through the vaguely familiar streets. The lines in Tokyo for Shrine visits were going to take hours and that was a level of patience that even Akaashi couldn’t muster.

You’d always taken your prayers seriously, setting an example for your younger siblings through what your mother had taught you. It was just another thing from her that you carried around, almost a year after she had left you. Today, more than any other day in the last eleven months, you felt her with you.

You took the steps with Bokuto on one side, Akaashi on the other - Kuroo and Rumi having gone ahead of you already. Being the girl with a purse, you handed Bokuto and Akaashi each a coin, then together you all flipped them into the offering box, bowed, and clapped your hands. Then you were silent. A welcoming chill crept up your spine, it wasn’t from being cold although you were, but it felt more like the chill you get with anticipation. You thought for a moment, then silently spoke your thoughts in your mind out into the universe.

You thought about Yua and Eiji, hoping they would grow up strong and that emotionally they would be able to handle anything that came their way. You thought about Baba and her husband, hoping their health continued and that they were happy. You thought about your mother, hoping that she was at peace and that she continued to watch over your family from wherever she was.

You also thought about the boy standing next to you. His tall figure was looming over the short shrine you stood before and you peeked open one of your eyes to see his own hands clasped together and his lips moving very subtly in his own prayers. You wondered what he was thinking about. He must’ve felt you looking at him as he cracked an eye open too and caught you looking. 

You blushed just a little bit, finally able to control yourself around him after all this time, and smiled. He smiled back. It was a small smile. Not his hundred-watt, knock you out, weak in the knees smile - but a genuinely happy smile that stretched up to his eyes and made your heart fill ten times over.

“Damnit,” You cursed very quietly under your breath. You felt the giddiness building up in your chest again. So much for controlling yourself around him… 

You bowed again and felt him grab your hand to pull you towards where Kuroo and Ryumi were waiting. You all made your way over to where the fortunes were and you couldn’t stop yourself from bouncing around excitedly. Bokuto laughed as you swung your connected hands wildly back and forth, narrowly missing hitting Akaashi who stood behind you. “Someone’s excited~”

“Fortunes are my favorite!” You said, turning to lead your group to where the rest of the temple crowd was gathering towards. You saw some people walking around with slips of papers in their hands, others moving to a wall where they tied them away. “The excitement of the future? What could be better!”

“What about curses?” Kuroo butted into your excitement. Rumi smacked his shoulder and scolded him for attempting to rain on your parade.

“What about ‘em?” You laughed. “A great blessing is something to look forward to, and a great curse is just a way for me to make myself better!”

You began to skip ahead, dragging Bokuto by the arm in your excitement and not noticing the awed looks of the rest of your friends behind you. Bokuto looked back over his shoulder, shrugging his shoulder that you were trying to dislocate, then turned back around when you commanded his attention.

“You’re pretty serious about these, huh?” He looked down at you as the two of you had made a little distance between yourselves and your friends.

You flashed a closed eye smile up at him, continuing to swing your arms as you walked up to where the fortunes were and stood in line. “Well, I wasn’t for a while, I always thought my mother was crazy for believing in them so much.” You said as you took a few small steps forward with the crowd. “Then last year I got a good fortune, and with everything that was happening I for sure thought it was a load of crap. I mean, who gets a good fortune and then their mother dies three weeks later?”

You noticed Bokuto stiffen just a little bit. Over time he’d helped you to open up about your mother, being more willing to talk about things that happened and share how you were feeling so the stress didn’t build up like it used to. He stiffened because he didn’t expect you to be so open about it out in public, but he was proud of you for talking to him.

“But,” You started again, dragging out the word as you pressed yourself against him. Your cute actions still made him blush every once in a while and he was thankful for the cold wind to blame the changing color of his cheeks on. “Then I met you, and things got better. A lot better. So I figured… these fortunes can’t be half bad, right?”

You beamed up at him and there it was. That moment where you looked at him like he was the sun and your world revolved around him. Honestly, Bokuto wondered if anything in his life mattered up until that moment. He couldn’t help himself and reached a hand to the back of your head and pulled you up to him for a quick kiss. The urge was overwhelming and he acted before he knew what he had done. Pulling away, you continued to have the same look in your eyes but with a little more playfulness.

*

The train ride home was much more calm and instead of cracking jokes between your group, you all sat slumped in your seats with your heads nodding back and forth sleepily. Akaashi and Bokuto were mumbling to one another as you rested your head on the latter’s shoulder. Your eyes were tired and your stomach was full from the amount of noodles and desert you’d consumed after your shrine visit.

Splitting ways with your friends when you arrived back in the city, you were walking up the stairs of your apartment building with your feet dragging. Bokuto had to tug your hand playfully to keep you moving, it made him smile to see your eyes trying so hard to stay open. 

You pushed open the door to the apartment, being met instantly with a blast of warm air and the excited shrieks of your younger sister. “Neechaaaaan! It’s here!”

You didn’t register what she was talking about as she came running down the hall and crashed into your legs. She continued to repeat what she said as she pushed you down the hall to where your brother and dad were waiting around the kitchen table. They were both staring at an unopened envelope.

You paused. Bokuto walked into you from behind making you stumble a little, he reached out his hands to catch your shoulders. He looked over the top of your head and saw what you were staring at and his hands gripped you a little tighter. “Is that-”

“Yes.” You interrupted, your focus wholly on the paper that was waiting for you. It was going to decide your fate.

Okay, that was a little dramatic. But it was definitely going to determine what the next few years held in store for you. 

Bokuto had recently been accepted to play volleyball at UTokyo. While you’d been wildly happy for him when he told you, you were also jealous. He didn’t have to worry about the pressure of what his future held anymore and he could have all his attention devoted to playing at Nationals. You on the other hand had put in your application for Kitasato as soon as your exams were graded, but you’d had yet to hear anything. Until now.

With slightly shaky hands, you quickly grabbed at the envelope addressed to you and tore into it. Bokuto, Eiji, Yua, and your dad all waited silently, staring at you as you paced away from them to read the letter in your hands. Was all your hard work going to pay off? Were you going to be able to stay close to your family, take care of them and make sure things were okay? Were you going to be able to see where things with Bokuto were going and not have to move across the country to attend another school?

As you read the printed words, you got your answer.

Dear (L/N) (Y/n),

It is with great pleasure that we contact you to inform you of your acceptance into the undergraduate program within the School of Veterinary Medicine at Kitasato University.

*

[groovycatcollector]

The Wonderfully Right, And The Horribly Wrong (Daryl Dixon Love story)

Summery: After losing her brother and his wife, one young woman is left on her own, caring for a new born and trying to survive. After being taken in to a community after years of mistrust, how will she adapt, and what effect will a certain archer have on her. Starts the last episode of season5

 Warnings: slow-burn, angst, eventual fluff, violence, strong language. ptsd, Age gap

Pairings: Daryl Dixon x OFC

Chapter 5

Shit shit shit shit shit. This is really bad, this is beyond bad, and this is pure shit. The Practice run has turned into a real run, I mean at least we had the walls and stations all set up but still … shit. Our only choice was to spring into action, and of course that fool Carter had to start arguing saying we’re not ready, like we had a choice. We ran to get ahead of the horde, with Abraham and Sasha in a car behind Daryl on his bike, leading the horde away. I ran, and when Rick announced “now” I pulled the tripper on the flare, bringing the rotters towards me.

Running, so much running, I was lucky that I was fast, I did cross country in High school. Rick would occasionally come in with a few words of encouragement over the walkie talkies but mostly, it was just a mixture of following Glenn and instinct. Until our group found a store, and the noise of the walkers was loud, nearly overwhelmingly loud.

 “The noise is gonna distract the horde” Glenn stated, I could see from his hand gestures that he was freaking out, but trying to hide it. Some debate had started but it was getting pointless “Listen, They can either follow the path away from Alexandria, or be distracted by the this” I gestured at the closed door that the racket was coming from “And find their way there” Nicholas, and the other guy who’s name I couldn’t remember went silent, so I opened the door, ready to start shooting, only to see the metal sheet separating the walkers from us. Shit.

Glenn took a step back “Okay, we break the window” he explained “Then you, me and Heath will start shooting” Ahh Heath, there we go.  He turned to Nickolas, shoving the talkie onto his chest “If things go south radio Rick” Something serious must have happened, Glenn was normally pretty chill, but now he was close to freaking me out with the level of aggression. 

It was a close call but we got them all. And now, we’re creeping our way past the horde through the tree line. Then a blast made me fall onto my stomach, a loud horn was crippling my ears. I was never good with loud noises. Heath grabbed me just has the walkers were coming towards the noise, bringing us back to our previous activity of, you guessed it: running. Heath grabbed my arm and dragged me along for the first few meters, before I got my footing and took off. Shit this was even worse. Bile rose in my mouth just as I realized where the horn was coming from, where the kid was.

“shit shit shit” Panic was starting to build up and I felt my shoulders tighten and my mind go foggy. Seeing Rick looking dishevelled I went over to him “We’ll stop it” I said, not sure if I was trying to comfort him or myself but he was clearly panicked, just (once again) trying to hide it, they had something to prove to Alexandria, that they could do this. He was shifting his weight from leg to leg and rubbing his face, panting. He nodded at me “Yeah we will” Then his eyes went to the group that had caught up with me, most of the team who volunteered. He went on and explained his plan to try leading the horde away, that right now we had to get back to worn them.

 I didn’t listen, I couldn’t listen, the blood was pumping in my ears deafening me from the world.

**

Well, that was a shit day. I slumped agents the wall, exhausted but finally inside Alexandria. I looked down at my boots, scuffed up with cracked and creases in the leather, feeling my feet throb. Michonne and the rest of the group were quick to follow me, we lost Glenn and Nicolas somewhere along the way, but I was pretty confident they would fin they’re way back. I straighten up and something catches my eye on the street ahead. 

Aw no, please no. I walk closer to it “Aww fuck” that I say out loud.

A body

A danm body in the middle of the street.

Could this day get any worse?

A body, that means an attack. Looking around I see more bodies. More and more bodies. And no Carl, and no baby. Where is the baby?

I start running, fear striking me cold in the heart, and only one thing went through my mind: the baby. I go to Carl’s house first, gasping for both air and reassurance that he’s safe. I start calling for Carl.

 Nothing. 

My heart was thumping agents my ribs, threatening to crack them.  My vison goes blurry with fear. I’m calling his name more now, searching upstairs.

Not there. Where is the baby?

Panic took over, I’m running out of the house, screaming for Carl. No this can’t be happening. Jesus, Mary and the Donkey this isn’t happening. I’m getting light headed, and I can’t focus on anything. I crouch down trying to get a hold of myself, I’m no good if I’m this wound up. Just as my breaths started steading I felt a hand of my shoulder. Nearly jumping out my skin I fall over, seeing Carl looking down at me.

“Nina I’m here” He was way too calm, his shadow casting over me. With Judith in a baby carrier on his back and the boy, in his arms. I tried but I couldn’t hold back the sob. I attempted to stand, but my body shook with emotion, all I could do was stretch my arms out for the baby. Carl probably thinks I’m in a right state, which I am of course, but I sat there cradling my baby in the middle of the street, with my body shaking with release.

Neither infant nor teenager knew what to think of me, or what was really goin on. My nephew stared up at me with his big blue eyes, and all I could do was rock him and sob, letting heavy tears roll down my face.

“Thank you Carl” I said, still not looking up. “I thought ye were dead” I could barley manage it out, scared I would somehow jinx it and they would disappear.  He sat down next to me, further away then he normally would have, but I wasn’t exactly acting normal. “We were attacked, most people who couldn’t fight are now dead.” I hummed, not fully listening, only rocking my baby, he continued “Was it bad out there ? that horn would have attracted a few walkers, do ye think you’ll be ready for tomorrow ?”

I suddenly remembered that they don’t know yet. I pulled the baby up to my chest, hugging him. “The horde broke free today, half of it is coming our way” I stared off towards the gate, seeing Michonne telling Deanna, who didn’t seem to be taking it well.

“Shit” He cussed, I chuckled, thinking just how many times I’ve said that word in my mind today “My sentiments exactly” Iput my hand on his shoulder. He looked down and shook his head. “Well you know what this means”

I sighed , knowing full well what it meant. I started laughing, thinking just how fucked we really are, fucked, but not dead yet.

 “It means we’re gonna kill some sons of bitches”

Part one Part two Part three Part four Part six Part seven Part eight

Part nine Part ten Part eleven

AN: sorry this actually is turning out to be a slower burner then I thought

[jawnjendes]

shawn meets... | bella

SUMMARY: in the life of a rockstar, shawn mendes comes across some unique people. sometimes, things stray from the norm. (AU, shawn x every one of my oc’s)

AN: hiiii this is somewhat of a continuation of my last series, goth gf. you dont HAVE to read it to know what's happening here, but there will be references to it every so often. if you've been here since the goth gf days then, hi. i appreciate you. enjoy this shit. let me know ur thots.

****let me know if you want to be added to the taglist!

bella's origin story | bella's playlist | masterlist

It felt awfully strange to be in Annalise's hometown, knowing she wouldn't be going home right away. The residential part of North Hollywood where her parents lived still felt like it was a million miles away. The glamorous Lyft Lux was going through the equally glamorous parts of the city, and it was almost mundane despite the fact that she had been away for over a year.

Shawn and his younger sister, Aaliyah, were frequently pointing out the exciting things they had only seen in photos and movies: the Chinese Theater, the Walk of Fame, the Hollywood sign. They were bundles of energy and excitement. Annalise was only jittery because she never fully processed that she lives in the same city as her favorite YouTuber, Bella Santiago.

Over a month ago, Bella discovered the Shawn Mendes profile on Spotify, causing her to give him a shoutout on Twitter. Then, just after the release of his newest EP, In My Blood, Bella messaged Shawn, offering to fly him out to LA, put him in a hotel and make a video with her. Shawn immediately jumped at the chance, but he couldn't go without bringing two of the biggest Bella stans he knew, Annalise and Aaliyah. The only reason why it took until the New Year for this to happen was simple: exams and Christmas.

When the semester ended, Annalise spent the holidays and her 22nd birthday with Shawn's family in Pickering, much to her own family's disdain. It was different, celebrating Christmas on the morning of the 25th, rather than the 24th. It was also different not eating tamales or pozole like she did with her family. It totally wasn't annoying when Shawn blasted that god awful Taylor Swift song on the morning of Annalise's birthday. She totally didn't miss her family either.

She had to promise her parents that she would stay in LA for the duration of the holiday break in return for missing all the important holidays. It wasn't a hard decision to make, but it was going to be hard letting Shawn go. Annalise only hoped that there would be time for him to meet her extended family during this trip. From what she understood, as soon as Bella was done with him, Shawn and Aaliyah were getting on a plane straight back to Toronto.

As it turns out, Bella Santiago is insanely generous. She reserved the three of them a deluxe suite at the Marriott. They had a view of the city, a massive king size bed, and a pull out sofa bed. Everything was spotless, and luxurious.

"She didn't have to go this hard," Aaliyah pointed out as she tossed her suitcase to the side.

"What, would you rather sleep on the floor?" Shawn teased. "And pick that up and move it so it's out of the way!"

She rolled her eyes as she did what he said.

Annalise made herself comfortable on top of the white sheets. While all of this was exciting, she was fucking exhausted. It felt like it was much later in the day, having gotten up at seven. The time change made it feel like it was well in the afternoon, but it was barely eleven.

"How's your tummy?" Shawn asked from the window. He had his phone out and was taking photos of the view.

"Much better," she replied.

Against her better judgment, Annalise had a coffee during the five hour flight, and it did not agree with her. She made good friends with a barf bag… or three. All the caffeine must have left her system if she was feeling better now.

"What time do we meet Bella?" asked Aaliyah, padding over to stand by her brother.

"Three o'clock," Shawn replied. "In the ballroom downstairs."

That prompted all three of them to take a death nap for the time being. It only lasted about three hours, and when their alarms went off, none of them felt any more rested.

Annalise was the first one to actually get up and get ready. For once, she was intimidated by who she was going to be standing in front of today. She had to look her best, even if it was in all black.

It didn't take long for Aaliyah to follow suit. Soon enough, both girls were sitting in front of the window, using the California sun for their light as they did their makeup.

The funny thing is, as much as they cared about looking their best, neither of them were going to be in Bella's video. She only wanted Shawn, who was still lying in bed half an hour before the scheduled meet up.

"What are you gonna wear?" Annalise asked her boyfriend.

"I don't know," he replied, his voice muffled by the pillow. "Will she even care about what I'm wearing?"

"You're gonna be on her channel," Aaliyah said, looking up from her handheld mirror, "which has millions of viewers, including some of my friends who will never let me hear the end of it if they see my brother looking like a clown in front of the queen!"

Shawn grinned and got up. "I'll go like this, what do you think?" He held his arms out, showcasing his plaid pajama bottoms and a Nike hoodie. He also only had one sock on.

"You'll be dead before you step out of the room like that," Ann darkly added.

“Thanks Satan.” He chuckled.

Shawn was only pretending to be calm. Inside, he was shaking and his insides were heavy. He didn't even think about Bella's subscriber count until Aaliyah pointed it out. He really wanted Bella to like him too. She seemed like such a sweetheart from her videos, Shawn hoped that wasn't just a persona.

He had spent most of the flight watching her videos (when Ann wasn’t puking up her caffeine, of course.) He made it through a few tutorials, learning a lot about not only makeup, but Bella herself. She suffers from several anxiety disorders and constantly works to better herself. She left her parents when she came out to them as bisexual, and she hasn't spoke to them or her extended family in years. She recently got out of a relationship with another YouTuber named Ethan Nestor, which was part of the reason why she spent half of 2019 in her hometown of Palm Springs. This woman has some thick skin, there was no denying that.

One of the best things that Shawn learned about Bella was that she had a butterfly tattoo on her left arm. In another video, she talked about how her viewers drew butterflies on their arms in support of her when she was down. She got it tattooed for them, and the colors of the wings were the same as the bisexual pride flag. Shawn looked at his own butterfly tattoo differently now.

The other best thing he learned was how talented of a singer Bella was. She had covers on her channel, and Shawn watched every single one. Bella had such a rich, beautiful voice, and it looked so easy for her to hit any high note. She sang Love on the Brain without any strain on her face. She sang a gayer version of You Belong with Me, and played guitar with it. She sang with Markiplier as the opening act when they were on a comedy show tour in 2018.

Shawn couldn't wait to sing with her, though he was intimidated. He thought he was a good singer, but put him next to someone with Ariana Grande levels of talent? The nerves were never ending.

It was ten til three when everyone was ready. Their only predicament was to go down to the ballroom early or not.

“Did she text you?” Aaliyah asked, clearly antsy. “Is she on her way or anything?”

Shawn shook his head. He had changed into a white tee, black jeans and a denim jacket, which the two girls approved of. “Should I message her? Or… her manager? She’s the one who made all these arrangements.”

“Hey, she might not even be here on time,” Ann said. “YouTubers are like celebrities. They run on their own schedules just because they can.”

“Bella wouldn’t do that, would she?” Aaliyah said in disbelief.

“Only one way to find out.”

And to the ballroom they went. The space was huge, clearly meant for a party. There were sheer white curtains hanging from the huge windows, and a chandelier hanging from the ceiling. In the far corner of the room, tables and chairs were folded and leaning against the wall. Shawn, Aaliyah, and Ann looked around the room, all silently nervous and excited. Only a few minutes into it, they heard female voices just outside the room.

“But we’re always early! I knew I should have driven myself!”

“It’s two fifty-nine! Relax, they’re probably not even here yet!”

“Huh, I’ll be damned,” Ann mumbled, looking at her phone to verify the time.

The owners of the other two voices entered the room, carrying expensive-looking camera equipment and studio lights. They were followed by a bellhop, who was carrying a keyboard in a case. One woman was short and curvy, brown and freckled. Her short black hair was curly and glossed down, and she was wearing a bright red pantsuit.

The other woman was long and lean, decked out in a white long sleeve crop top, a black skirt, and knee high boots. Her iconic bright pink hair made a comeback, that wasn’t in her latest video. Her kind face looked airbrushed and flawless, although her brown eyes looked alarmed, like she was caught in headlights.

The first person to break the silence was the woman in red, already establishing her power. “Hello!” She held her hand out to Shawn. “I’m Sonji, I’m Bella’s manager. I believe we spoke on the phone. And on Twitter.”

“Yeah, yeah we did,” he said as they shook hands. “Uh, this Aaliyah and Ann, my sister and my girlfriend.”

“Hi, ladies!” Sonji greeted, shaking their hands as well. “So lovely to meet you! God, you’re all so pretty!”

Both girls mumbled shy thank you’s.

“Okay, so my handsome friend here and myself are going to set things up for the video,” Sonji explained. “In the meantime-” She looked at her silent client. “-Baller, come talk to your little protégé.”

Then, Sonji led the bellhop further into the room, over by the windows.

Bella still had a bag slung over her shoulder and a massive studio light stand in her hands. She was clutching it to her chest, a very performative and awkward smile etched on her bright pink lips.

“Hi!” she said after one very long second. “Uh - lemme -” She set down the giant lights and removed the bag from her shoulder. Then she stood up straight and smoothed out her hair. “Hi! Uh, I said that already!”

“I’ll say it again! Hi!” Shawn greeted, smiling politely.

Bella looked at him and opened her arms for a hug. “It’s nice to finally meet you!”

It might be weird to put it this way, but she smelled pretty. Whatever perfume she was wearing was probably more expensive than the flight over here. Shawn hugged her around her shoulders, inadvertently touching her surprisingly soft hair. You could just tell that she didn’t spare a single penny when it came to caring for herself.

“Wow, I wasn’t expecting you to be so tall!” she said, looking up at Shawn. “For once, I’m not the tallest person in the room!”

She couldn’t have been taller than Ann, who was five foot five inches and felt very short most of the time.

“And this is the sister and the girlfriend?” Bella said, turning to the other two girls. She went to hug Aaliyah, who was more than delighted by the gesture.

Bella leaned back and took her hand. “I love your nails! Love the shape and color!” She ran her thumb over the white acrylics. “So cute!”

“Aw, thank you!” Aaliyah was beaming.

Then, Bella turned to hug Ann. It’s important to point out that in most situations, Annalise Flores is stone faced, calm, and collected. Today, however, Ann had wide eyes, like she was face the good Lord herself… like she was going to drop down on one knee and propose to Bella.

Shawn wouldn’t blame her.

“Me encanta su delineador!” Bella told her, gently cupping her face.

“En serio?” Ann softly asked.

“Yes, que linda! Those inner wings are to die for! What do you use?”

“Um.. uh, I think it’s NYX? I don’t know the exact one, but it’s definitely NYX!” Ann chuckled nervously.

“Well, it looks amazing!”

Ann looked like she was going to faint with that euphoric dazed look on her face. Thankfully, she stayed on both feet because Sonji grabbed their attention. She managed to sneak by Bella, take the lights and bag, and set them all up by the window. She also set up the keyboard, camera and two chairs. There were three other chairs behind the camera as well. Sonji was incredibly fast.

“We are all ready to go!” she said to the others.

“Shall we?” Bella gestured for the other three to go first.

Shawn, Ann, and Aaliyah went over to the set up, excitement only increasing from here.

"Were you two going to be in the video too?" Sonji asked the two girls.

They both shook their heads.

"Nervous? Don't blame you, the Internet is brutal."

That didn't help Shawn's bundle of nerves. He took a silent deep breath as he went for his guitar case while Bella sat in front of her keyboard. The Internet is brutal, and Shawn's own minuscule corner of it was safe solely because of the size. The fans he tweeted every so often were seemingly normal, and no one was overly critical about him or his music. More exposure means more space for criticism and plain old hate.

Bella had over five million subscribers, and at least forty thousand of them took an interest in Shawn over the last month and a half. It was a lot of new people to make a good impression to. He took another deep breath and removed the guitar from its case. There's no going back now.

"So, I don't want this to be a structured, planned out video," Bella explained when Shawn took the empty chair next to her. "I just want us to talk so my viewers can get to know you, and we'll sing whatever comes to mind."

"Sounds good," Shawn said, not really hearing himself.

"Now everybody - and I mean everybody - take in a deep breath."

The room was silent except for the sounds of everyone inhaling through their noses. Aaliyah and Ann still looked excited as they followed Bella's instruction. Sonji followed as well, like she had done this a thousand times.

"And exhale," Bella breathed out, and the others repeated. "Good. Get those nerves out, breathe away the anxiety. This is fun, we're having fun."

Shawn felt a little better, knowing she was just as nervous, if not more. Throughout all of Bella's mental health videos that he watched on the plane, none of them seemed to touch on how severe her own case was.

Finally, Bella addressed the camera, her soft voice suddenly projected. "Hey, it's Bella! Welcome back to my channel! Today, I'm here with a very special guest! Some of you saw me tweet a while ago…"

Oh god, what the fuck was Shawn going to say? He looked over at Ann, who smiled reassuringly and silently did the motions for deep breathing. Stay calm. You're a strong guy.

"So how long have you been making music?" Bella asked him as she mindlessly pressed keys on her keyboard.

Shawn recalled as best he could. "Uh, I sang covers when I was fifteen. Didn't make my own music until a few years later."

"Nice! Are you in school, or work or something?"

"Yeah, I'm in college. I'm majoring in music and botany."

"Oh, you like plants?"

Shawn was mildly impressed. Most people had to ask what botany is, and he would have to explain for the thousandth time. Then, he would be told to drop the music major because it's easier to find a job in plant science.

"Flowers," he clarified. "I work in a flower shop."

"That's so cool!"

The conversation got easier as time went on. Sometimes Aaliyah or Ann would chime in if they felt that Shawn was getting too confident. Bella giggled every so often, which made everyone in the room adore her even more.

Shawn was about ready to propose when Bella started playing Mercy on her keyboard and humming the beginning. He stared at her in shock for a few seconds before he played along on guitar. Hopefully that didn't look too embarrassing on camera. He listened to her voice for a moment before singing with her in the chorus.

He had plenty of questions for Bella after they went through that song. "Where did you get a voice like that?"

"I could carry a tune as a kid," she explained, "so I was put into singing classes to hone it. Then I did church choir, school choir… I just never really stopped singing." She paused and then chuckled nervously. "This is gonna sound pretentious, but I think I got this voice for a reason. Meaning, I have this platform and all these followers. I think I'm meant to use my voice for good. Help people in whatever way I can."

Shawn smiled. "That's beautiful. I see that in your videos. I kinda went on a binge on the plane."

Bella grinned.

"One thing that stood out to me…" Shawn hesitated, minding the camera and the future viewers of this video. "You are so unapologetically bisexual. You always make the point to the person you needed as a kid, because there is still so little bi representation in the media. And you decided, if no one's going to do it, then you'll do it yourself, and I think that's incredible."

"Yeah, I didn't have anyone telling me it's okay to feel what I feel, and I don't want anyone to go through what I went through as a teen."

Shawn nodded, glancing over at Ann once. He had talked about touching on this particular topic with her, and he was starting to have his own shred of doubt.

But, he learned from his girlfriend. Fuck it.

"I wish I had someone like you as a teenager," he said to Bella, strumming his guitar. "I mean, when I came out to my family, I was lucky. They were loving and accepting, but I still couldn't find anyone out there who was like me, in real life or in the media. I really wish I had found your videos sooner."

Bella was beaming. "I knew I liked you."

The two of them went back and forth between talking and singing. They compared butterfly tattoos, and then Bella was asking him about his other tats. Shawn learned a couple of Little Mix songs too, which led him to discover where his girlfriend got that fixation from. He was mostly amazed at how Bella was able to belt out song after song like it was nothing. Like she was meant for this. Why did she choose to be a makeup artist?

"Have you ever been offered a record deal?" Shawn asked. "Or thought about making your own music?"

"Mm, yes and yes," she said. "But singing is more of a hobby. I can't see myself delving into the music industry at all. Makeup is where it's at for me. Makeup got me through some of the hardest times in my life."

Shawn wouldn't say no to a record deal. He'd move to Los Angeles tomorrow if he could. He would do just about anything to play music full time. He glanced over at Ann again, who winked with a smile.

next chapter

_______

taglist: @normalcyisoverrated-beyou @justordinaryjen @chillingbythesea @iloveshawnieboi @shawnsunflower @someoneunimportantxx

[mutantsrisingrpg]

Congratulations ABBY! You’ve been accepted as MARS with a FC change to HUNTER SCHAFER.

Abby, we’re excited to have you back, and we’re excited to have you gracing the dashboard with Yvette! Her life’s story flowed so well, I felt as if I could envision it like a movie - of course, it’d probably be one that I cry during, but that’s besides the point. I’m a sucker for the little things, and those headcanons, from her favorite things to her laughter, just made me envision her that much more clearer and really makes you see her as a person, not just a character. Welcome back!

Welcome to Mutants Rising! Please read the checklist and submit your account within 24 hours.

OUT OF CHARACTER INFORMATION

NAME / ALIAS: abby

PRONOUNS: she/her

AGE: 22

TIMEZONE & ACTIVITY LEVEL: EST, 6-7/10 – What is time these days? I’m still a full time grad student, but with everything the way it is i’m pretty much on my computer all the time, which means I can be better involved in the gc ( hopefully ! ). In terms of replies, I’ll either be cranking things out on the dash in the mornings or at night after dinner (8-9pm onwards)

IN CHARACTER INFORMATION

DESIRED ROLE: Yvette Diandra

GENDER/PRONOUNS: trans woman & she/her

DETAILS & ANALYSIS: 

Calm like a bomb. The only tick tick you’ll get out of Yvette is her heart thrumming when her hands lift off the handlebars; when her smile splits for a second – all teeth. There’s nothing overtly dangerous about her: a young woman grown upright into adulthood, all legs and elbows and big eyes, searching for soft spots between your ribs. Mischievous, maybe – up to no good, certainly. She smiles like she’s got a secret tucked under her lip, more than just the tattoo she got drunk on her 21st birthday reading PUSSY in blurred out ink ( you are what you eat, right? ). 

There’s an uptick to her brow to tell you she’s unimpressed; a shrug in her shoulders that says she couldn’t give a shit what you say, really, but a nod and another nod until she can roll away from one palm-flanked street to the next. She’ll keep it that way – a slow blink like a cat’s to say, i trust you, a hand extended with a joint between her fingers. You know she’s whispering about you when she turns to giggle in her friend’s dark hair, but – come on. She looks like she’ll bowl over with a strong wave; how much damage can she really do?

She doesn’t use her powers often, a clean and tidy life that comes at the expense of control. She’ll say it’s because her powers are messy. The truth is she’s never been terrified of anything like she is of herself. She knows what her blast radius is, knows how easy it is to crush things, like a petal in her fist. She knows the shrapnel never really comes out; you can’t get unfucked, you can’t put all that toothpaste back in the tube. You sure as shit can’t walk across the bridge, on fire while you hold the blown-out match. It’s fine. It’s all fucking fine. Yvette clamps a bear trap on her own foot – not because she likes it, not because it’s convenient. Because the alternative, is, frankly, a lot of fucking work. Yvette is good at breaking herself apart, less so at putting herself together. The drop is always easier than getting back up.

The fearlessness – as congenital as the atoms in her body, shivering to split and reshape like waves on the surf – comes out in other ways. No helmet on the on the hill that drives straight down to the beach. Sketchy deals with friends of a friend of a cousin of a diagonal neighbor. Nights lost to glitter and the burn of liquor on her tongue, unsure of the time between the club and the beach and her bed. Mornings split like a snowcone in the sky, and the rest of the day lost to sleep. Petty theft. Cruel giggles poorly stifled in the back of her hand. Fun that’s really only fun when you aren’t at the receiving end of it. Testing the edges of control like dipping your toes into a riptide.

BIO: 

Trigger warnings for: still birth, abuse, drug use

Yvette is born screaming. Peals of it, unfurling from her tiny, toothless mouth. Despondent – no nurse’s finger or nipple in her mouth would quiet her. Eight years or so later, over three fingers of bottom-shelf whiskey and a chain of cigarettes that should’ve put her in a grave, her mother mentions offhand it was just Yvette overcompensating, as usual. It’s the first time she hears about her brother, pushed out between her desperate wails; born sleeping. Yvette swallows this like she does all her mother’s bitter commentary – wide-eyed, slim fingers wrapped around her blue plastic cup, knees drawn up and chin nestled between them. 

Things were easy, then – on the bicycle of their lives; two wheels holding up the frame in equal measure. At least – that’s how Yvette remembers them, and refuses to remember further. Texas was honey-sweet and bourbon-rich; Yvette was raised between their dry front lawn and the neighbors, the block a kingdom for her bare feet to conquer. She was a wild thing, then, wiggling in her mother’s hands and in a furious race with the sun. The problem with the sun is that it goes down. The clock stops ticking at midnight, and the candles blow out. The screen door swings shut. 

Yvette makes no secret of her dislike for Mom’s boyfriend. He’s tall and broad, with mean eyes like Mom taught her to look for. His hands are cracked and he smells more of cigarettes than her, too; reeks of them, and maybe that’s why Mom likes him so much – she thinks she can smoke him down, too. Yvette’s never had a taste for tobacco, not since she went to school on the first day of fourth grade and all the kids next to her held her nose. The only time Mom’s ever slapped her was when Yvette crushed all the unused packs under her boot. 

So the first boyfriend is a bust, but it doesn’t stop Mom from bringing home the second or the third. By the fourth Yvette’s on the cusp of something she can’t quite reach, and she knows enough from her skimmed physics book to understand insanity. This time, she shuts the bedroom door and says nothing. Doesn’t stop Mom from falling back into the pendulum swing, though, and this time the speed picks up. Boyfriend Five nearly kicks her door down when all their friends go home and Six takes a fist full of her hair before Mom can stop him. She doesn’t wait to see what special brand of asshole Seven is – peel back the label and it’s all the same dented can. 

Miami was an inside joke – another liquor-based confession Mom made on the couch with a smoke in her hand. It was a place to pin all their secret wants and wishes. You could be something, in Miami, something warm and pink and sun-dusted, a place where the sun doesn’t set and the sand is warm between their toes. A pipe-dream, Yvette echoed back and Mom nodded. Now, with Boyfriend Seven’s cash in her pocket, a bag on her back, and the rest of her life literally up in flames – why the fuck not? Everyone was always telling her to stop letting the world happen to her.

There wasn’t a lot Mom was right about – not Yvette’s dad, or her name, or any of those shitbags she ever brought home. She was maybe a little bit right about Miami, though. It was flamingo-pink and glittering. And no one gave a single shit. Not when Yvette grew her hair long, or rolled up her skirts, or walked into Planned Parenthood with her heart in her throat. 

Mom finds her, eventually. It’s hard not to when Yvette made no secret of it and tended to implode her life every six months or so. It was all very dramatic – lots of wet mascara, tears, hands clasped in front of her like she was about to mutter six Hail Mary’s. The last boyfriend – was it Ten, now? Eleven? – finally put his hands on Mom and apparently that was something of a wakeup call. Not Yvette, gone in the night, with their cash and the garage like ground zero. Not all the times the kitchen vibrated like the base of a volcano, seconds from exploding. Still, Yvette opens her door. Mom sleeps on the couch now, goes to work with few words while Yvette sleeps in. They don’t say the M word. They don’t say the F or the H word either. This isn’t home and they aren’t really family. Yvette’s control is thin like fishing line. These days, to be honest, they don’t say much at all.

EXPANDED CONNECTIONS:

Hana Mercado: There is nothing about Yvette and Hana that will ever be calm and peaceful. From their first collision, like flintrock to tinder, Yvette knew she was going to love this stupid bitch forever. They’re like a tanner, taller Team Rocket – or Thelma & Louise, though Yvette doesn’t give herself too much time to contemplate which side of the hero/sidekick coin she falls on between the two of them. The honest to god truth is that there wasn’t much Yvette had before Hana – her mom, maybe, and 20 hours of week at the gas station where she could do fuck all and still get paid for it.  It wasn’t even the power she wanted. She could feel it – maybe, buzzing at the base of her spine, but it wasn’t why, when Hana held their hand out, Yvette took it.

It was balance, restored. Yvette spent her life since eight reaching for it, open hands unmet. She thought she needed quiet, like a vacuum to suck out all the noise and rage vibrating inside her. She was so fucking fixated on it. But a counterbalance can never be empty space. Hana stepped on the other side of the scale – lightning to Yvette’s thunder; there, bright and flashing, for Yvette’s low rumble to follow. And that’s what they are – aren’t they? Storms for girls; blowing through the bay, darkening the sky and roughing up the surf; spitting out dunes like chewed gum.

But Yvette sees the way Hana’s been nudging her, pressing their foot down on Yvette’s side of the scale. They want to cut the wires, watch the clock tick down to zero, and Yvette can’t for the life of her understand why. Her whole life she’s ripped things out from the inside, ruined things to show herself she could; decided it was what she deserved. She doesn’t need Hana to do it for her, too. Yvette knows fully fuckin’ well what she’s capable of – and it scares her. The fear of it chokes her up, mangles her insides until she can’t breathe. The problem is, of course, that it’s Hana. Anyone else Yvette would’ve told to fuck right off by now – and shit, she probably already has. But Hana’s hand in hers is a grounding weight, and even without that she’s at risk of detonation.

EXTRA: 

Headcanons:

-Yvette’s transportation of choice is her mom’s old roller skates that she rehabbed. She’s a frequent loiterer on the counters of her favorite skate shops, juggling wheels or messing with knuts and washes. As a result of both her hobby and general lack of care for her own wellbeing, she’s often sporting bruised knees and hands and a fair amount of road rash.

-As a natural consequence of her lack of experience and control, Yvette has set fire to a number of various buildings and infrastructure, including but not limited to: her mom’s garage, three gas stations, the neighbor’s yard, a playground swingset, herself (once, technically), two jetties, and some of Tatiana’s plants. She’s never been charged with arson.

-She has a habit of laughing in grossly inappropriate situations, and despite literally everything else about her that says otherwise – it’s almost never on purpose. It’s an anxious habit Yvette doesn’t know the origin of or how to stamp it out, but regardless: nervous, angry, scared, or frustrated, Yvette is going to laugh. Probably in your face. She might even feel sorry about it, but usually only if it gets her in trouble ( which, as one might expect, it very often does )

-The quickest way to Yvette’s heart is between her ribs and under her breastbone, but also: vaporwave edits of pop songs, alaskan thunder fuck, sour apple jolly ranchers, holo stickers, Bombay Sapphire gin, karaoke on acid, 80’s night at the roller rink, fresh blackberries, retro movies with running commentary, white samoyeds on walks down the boardwalk, really really dumb fucking puns, and the occasional baseball bat to an old tv screen. 

Character parallels: Amma Crellin ( Sharp Objects ), Effy Stonem ( Skins ), Jules Vaughn ( Euphoria ), Ilyana Rasputina ( X-men ), Amy Elliot Dunne ( Gone Girl ), Lemony Snicket

This is so dumb but I basically see Yvette’s mom as an older Dakota Johnson? But when she was younger she was very much Dakota in A Bigger Splash ( see here ). Alternatively, an older Yvette? 

Playlist / Pinterest / Moodboard

ANYTHING ELSE: 

Magneto did nothing wrong; also, 

[feelingsdusk-writes]

On idiocy and stupidity

(For the Harry Potter AU square)

John doesn’t like the magical world at all. If he was completely honest, he would go as far as to admitting he hates it. Alas, that doesn’t happen unless he’s reached the bottom of a bottle of whisky, and he’s trying to keep away from that path nowadays, so he’ll just say that he would have been a man happy in his ignorance.

Again, no matter how he wishes that was true, that’s not the case.

The first time Stiles had a burst of accidental magic, it left John nearly in shock. He actually had a moment where his brain refused to catch up with what he was seeing and his whole body trembled, leaving him unable to even take a step further, so no, it wasn’t a figure of speech.

One of the frequent visitors to the park Claudia liked had a very big mixed breed as a pet. That beast was as humongous as it was mean, so there were a lot of complaints issued to the police department about it, and the owner, as mean and temperamental as his pet, was facing losing the dog because he refused to leash it at the very least.

He had talked about it with Claudia, but she refused to back down. She liked the park, it was the only one near their house and Stiles loved the play park, and she wasn’t going to let that awful man take that from them. John knew how to choose his battles, so he didn’t insist more on a lost one.

He should have.

It was Sunday, sunny, warm and his day off for a change, so they prepared a little basket with sandwiches and the like and went to the park to spend the morning and lunch hour there. After a couple of hours they managed to reign in Stiles for enough to have lunch. All was nice and well until John went to get coffee nearby and a blood curling toddler scream pierced the air just as he was coming back.

It attacked Stiles.

There wasn’t anything left from the beast besides the blood splatter on the ground of the play park and the owner was hysterical by the time he rushed in. Stiles was wailing, covered in blood, and Claudia was trying to calm him unsuccessfully.

Then, obliviators came and went, and John found out that his three year old baby boy was a wizard. A very, very powerful one, the ones that came to explain everything gushed, issuing a lot of recommendations about how to proceed.

It may be selfish or bad on his part, but John was more hung up on the fact that his wife had been lying to him since the very beginning, because she was a witch too.

(He’s also always being secretly grateful that they never acknowledged the fact that she would have never told him if Stiles hadn’t presented, even though he knows it is a cowardly thing.)

The instances where Stiles had accidental magic continued to grow in number as the time passed, but it got almost to an unbearable point when Claudia got sick from some magical sickness John has never been able to understand the facts of.

The last time Stiles’ magic acted out of control was when he blasted his own mother out of a window when she tried to strangle him, out of her mind and seeing things that weren’t there.

No, John doesn’t like the magical world.

If he was drunk, he’d admit he hates it.

Ignorance would have been, certainly, a bliss.

And this way of thinking has cost him a son.

He knows he should have done something, said something before Stiles left to that school, but he couldn’t. And now his betrayed expression will haunt him forever.

He’s such an idiot.

—

The Salem School of Witchcraft and Wizardry is, very inconspicuously (not), located in Salem, Oregon. Stiles has always thought it was a way to flip the bird at the ones responsible for the witch trials… and mooning at them too, just for good measure.

(Even if, historically speaking, it’s a fact that no real witch was burnt in those.)

Founded by Salazar Slytherin after he left England, Salem is as similar to Hogwarts as day is to night, and that’s being generous.

For starters, it’s students start their education way earlier, some being as young as seven years old. As soon as their core is proven to have stabilized (age which varies from one kid to another, none of that nonsense of waiting until the standard age of eleven) they can be accepted at Salem. And even before that, they are portkey ports for parents to leave their kids at the daycare building at the edge of the property, if they wish that their kids start to get in touch with the theory and various simple exercises and they can’t handle that themselves.

Another different thing about Salem is that the formative journey is much lengthier, some wizards and witches staying up to twenty years as students. Since the structure is that of a free school, but without the age classifications, there’s a lot of magical and procedural failsafes to ensure that older students don’t abuse the younger ones. Add in that Salem’s castle is as sentient as Hogwarts, with surrounding wards to match, and it’s one of the most secure places for it’s students.

Because the magic at the States is more raw and wilder in comparison to its European counterpart, unlike at Hogwarts, Salem’s students aren’t divided according to their personality traits, but according to their levels of raw magic. It’s not meant to be an elitist system, but to ensure the students safety.

Literally, when untrained, a student from the first tier could fry another from the third just by being around them daily.

Also unlike Hogwarts, starting as a part of a particular tier doesn’t mean necessarily that the student will remain in it. Cores grow with age, after all, and that may cause a necessity of changing the placement of the student.

Age doesn’t especially matter either on the placement in the classes that conform each tier, but knowledge. The more you study and the more magics you master, the higher the class you are on. There’re no exams, besides the grade ones, and even those are optional because one only takes them if they want to qualify to advance a class or a tier forward (it’s a double edged sword, though, because you can be demoted too) to have access to their libraries and laboratories, and the mentors and professors.

To sum it up, the organization at Salem is power and merit based, which can be fucked up sometimes, in Stiles’ opinion, because it places a lot of pressure on the students (or their parents) who put a lot of importance on the class and tier they’re part of. But it generally works, because as a free school, it’s your choice to remain or what to study or on which magic center your attention on, so…

It can get really expensive, though, the more one advances. Not the basic tuition, that’s not it. Third tier students rarely struggle for money, because the tuition covers for the basic supplies and meals, and the libraries have enough copies of each books that you never have to wait for a text. But the more you dabble in side experimentation or if you want to have your own copies of certain books…

Stiles is not a third tier student.

Or a second tier, for that matter.

Stiles vaporized an animal large enough to double his size when he was three years old and blasted his own mother out a window with enough force to propel her into the next building when he was eight, it’s obvious he’s not a first tier, either.

He’s been part of the special tier, which has less than twenty students, ever since he set a foot in the school, nearly ten years ago, and he made first class at the third semester of his second year at Salem.

(For him, the entire education system is perfect. Except for the daily reminders to eat (and there’s a handy spell for that) and periodical medical check-ups every student has (which forces to take care of yourself, or you’ll be sanctioned), he can study what he wants, when he wants and how he wants. He’s good at what he does so, unlike his first year when he struggled with the pocket money he had, he now sells potions, rituals and rune work all over the country (getting his laptop to work in his dorm what a bitch) and he can afford almost anything he wants without having to contemplate contacting his father… which he has never resorted to, anyway).

As a rule, he doesn’t go home unless he’s forced to and he spends all his time either studying or experimenting with anything and everything that catches his attention. He doesn’t care about making friends but he does have some people he’s in good terms with. He doesn’t want more, attempts to force the issue with him will be met with a sneaky and swift retaliation, as many can attest.

He may be an idiot like professor Callaway always tells him, but he doesn’t care.

He doesn’t need anyone, he thinks as he signs on the sheets to stay at Salem for Winter break.

—

Peter doesn’t like the third tier dorms and common rooms at all. It’s not a matter having to come all the way here when his own dorms are at the other end of the castle, but another thing entirely… though he has to admit that grates him quite a bit too. Out of all the tiers, the third one has the highest number of younger children in it, and that makes it’s dorm noisy and grating, and more frequently than not, messy. He eyes with distaste the clutter of unorganized books and paraphernalia that decorate the far end corner.

The thing is that if he doesn’t check on Talia’s brats more or less daily, she gets insufferable, and he prefers to brave the jungle before listening to another of her rants and empty threats about making him end his student career prematurely, so…

Don’t get him wrong, it’s not that he doesn’t like the rugrats (he did grow so close in age to them to consider them his siblings more or less, after all), but maintaining his status as a first class of the first tier (status that is a great source of pride for him because it’s extremely rare for a werewolf to reach higher than second tier) requires a lot of dedication on his part.

Dedication and a lot of studying.

Two kids run across the common room squealing and laughing and topple over a pile of books, startling another kid into messing whatever he’s working on, which explodes into his face. Other students rush in to check if he’s alright and march him to the infirmary just in case. A first class girl is left behind to somehow deal with the fire salamander the kid accidentally freed.

Studying he can’t do here, no matter how funny what just happened was.

He shivers and eyes the containing band around his wrist with distaste. Another reason to hate coming by the third tier dwellings. Students visiting another tiers have to wear one of those always to avoid getting hurt or hurting others. It’s a containing or shielding band depending on if you are visiting a tier below or above your own, but either way, the sensation is of being dumped in ice cold water. Needless to say, Peter hates it.

He sighs and turns his attention back to his own work.

Maybe he’s being an idiot for opposing Talia about ending his studies now. Just thinking about Cora with them all alone and without her only ally makes his stomach turn.

—

Another summer comes and goes without no sign of Stiles. He doesn’t know why he’s so surprised. How can he be so stupid? Of course he didn’t, exactly just like all the past summers and no measly letters are going to change that. The only information he’s had about him for the past ten years is what professor Callaway tells him sporadically. Melissa reaches over to take his hand and he squeezes it.

He just has to persevere, he tells himself. He messed up real bad and Rome wasn’t built in a day.

He wanted ignorance, and now that he has it, it feels like a curse.

—

So far, ever since he came to Salem, only three people have tried to mess up with Stiles, and that was only in his first year. They learned better than to cross Stiles and try to impose something he didn’t want on him.

Until this year.

Until ickle itsy bitsy Cora Hale entered Salem, got sorted into the special tier and, wide eyed after one of his experiments blew up spectacularly, she pointed at him before telling professor Callaway, who was with her, I can choose anyone right? I want him to be my mentor.

And that was a week ago.

He’s been evading her for a week straight and she stubbornly won’t give up.

“This is stupid,“ he grunts, out of breath.

“If it’s stupid, then give up,” she throws, just as out of breath at him.

“You’ve got guts, I’ll give you that.“ He looks at her thoughtful and she holds her breath. “Okay, if you manage to get out of this, I’ll give in.”

And then he promptly curses her.

—

Out of the three of Talia’s children, little Cora is the one Peter adores the most. She’s a sarcastic, smart and evil little shit and Peter loves that. He also loves that she gave the entire family the imaginary finger when, after being born a simple human, not a werewolf, not a witch, and being though almost as a useless disappointment for six years of her life (of course, nothing to her face which, stupid, because she is smart enough to notice it all), she presented not even two months ago when she blew an omega into smithereens.

And then she’s proceeded to be accepted at Salem and gotten transferred into the special tier on her very first year.

Peter, who has been the only one to treat her like the smart and wonderful kid she really is (not with pity, like Derek and Laura, not with disappointment like the rest of the family) cannot even feel a smidgen of jealousy that she’s surpassed him but instead is enjoying a vindictive kind of successful feeling.

Now, normally, Peter would hunt down anyone who dared to curse Cora and rip his throat out, but it seems to be harmless and Peter’s own mentor did something similar back in the day.

And he hasn’t been able to stop snickering ever since he recognized her.

“And what are you going to do?” he asks her.

“I don’t even know which one is the curse,“ she chirps from where she’s perched on his finger. “Flying is kind of cool, though.”

“Back on topic, aren’t you supposed to be trying to break this on your own?“

“He never said that I couldn’t ask for help,” she pipes and Peter snorts delighted. “Well, are you going to stop laughing like an idiot and help me out?”

“If you ask so nicely…“

—

John gets remarried to Melissa on a nice spring morning. Stiles is nowhere in sight. Scott, very angry, lets his feelings on the matter out while his girlfriend tries to calm him.

John, very calmly and with his heart breaking, because talking about it makes it even more real, explains who’s at fault. He can’t look at his new son in the eye.

When he gets back from the honeymoon, he finds a letter dated from the day he remarried, day in which he didn’t check the mail.

It’s short, succinct, way too formal and mostly cold, but John cries like an idiot.

—

“You’re ruining my reputation,” he grumbles at Cora as he braids a new protection charm he’s been working on into her hair. The cauldron with another of his projects bubbles in front of them.

“If it makes you feel better, I still think you’re as much of an asshole as the first day,“ Brandon deadpans as he not so subtly approaches said cauldron with his hands hidden behind him.

“Time to reaffirm that reputation,” Stiles mutters, patting Cora’s hair, and she presses her lips to contain a giddy cackle, seeing hell and damnation coming.

She’s not an idiot, though, so she covertly gets herself near the door, just in case.

—

Peter’s again at the third tier common rooms when a big explosion rocks the entire castle, making the ground tremble and the bottles in the shelves rattle. Derek curses when the sudden noise startles him into jerking his hand to the left, successfully messing completely the runic wards he was working on. He panics as it starts to sizzle, dark brown smoke coming from the paper in a matter of seconds.

Peter rolls his eyes at him and, without taking his eyes from the text he’s been studying for the better part of the afternoon, he nicks his finger and swiftly reaches to neutralize it before the wound closes.

“Showoff,” the fifteen year old grumbles before sighing at the ruined project. He growls frustrated, showing a bit of fang. “Damn it.”

“I bet it was your crush, uncle Peter,“ Laura grumbles, closing her notebook noisily.

As much as it pains him to admit it, he's coming to dislike Laura more and more as she grows. Seeing as she is more like her mother with each passing day, it’s not really that surprising that his brotherly love is souring as the time passes, though.

He arches a brow at her before going back to his text. When she sees he’s not going to raise to the bait, she continues.

“Who else could it be? I still don’t get why mom can’t make Cora have another mentor, he’s going to end up seriously hurting her.“

(She also doesn’t seem to get, just like her mother, than the more they dislike Cora’s mentor, the more she likes him. And the same happens with Peter, to be honest.)

When Cora rushes into the third tier common room, Peter ignores Laura’s validated exclaim, because, really, an explosion of that magnitude? Of course it was Stiles. He looks expectantly at Cora, waiting for some juicy story from her about her mentor and she doesn’t dissapoint.

“Stiles invoked a demon,“ she cackles gleefully after she jumps into his lap and it tells something that Peter isn’t surprised that those are the first words that come out of her mouth. “Brandon tried to trick him and Stiles messed” here she makes quotation marks with her hands, “a ritual and it charred Brandon’s ass… and his eyebrows.”

“Did he now?“ he inquires silkily, taking a short moment to envy the containment black bracelet Stiles made for her. According to Cora, she doesn’t feel cold at all and she can activate and deactivate it at will. He’s been trying to manipulate Stiles into making him one like that for months, but his subtle approach has bore no fruits yet.

“Yeah,“ she smirks evilly, obviously remembering the entire thing at this very moment and savoring it.

Peter’s lips twitch.

He rubs his cheek over her hair discreetly and she molds into his chest without a complaint about the scenting. If it was another person than him, even her own mother, she would have snarked her way out in disgust.

“You know what’s even better?“ she crows, turning to look at him in the face. She doesn’t wait for him to answer. “Brandon got demoted a class until the next grade exams and lost all library and laboratory privileges for a semester. And the professors are going to reward Stiles for his timely intervention.”

He smirks with Cora. Now, that’s a loss. Peter has already tried to sneak into the special tier’s library three times and failed each and every one of them. And that was the third class’ library. He’s not ashamed to admit that he would drool at the prospect of accessing the first class’ one. Losing all privileges…

“He also got the demon to accept to being his familiar,“ she finally adds and Peter raises his eyebrows impressed.

“What?!” Laura exclaims. “He can’t… That’s really dangerous! No one is that stupid!”

“Now, that would hurt if I actually cared about your opinion,“ a new voice drawls from the doorway.

Laura growls at Stiles and the nogitsune growls back at her from atop his hair (an ancient and overpowered being’s miniaturized form shouldn’t be that deceptively cute), making her back off, wide eyed and fast as lightning. Peter hides a delighted snicker in Cora’s hair but she’s not as considerate. Stiles grins at her, not even bothering to cover it either. Derek, who as a rule doesn’t like trouble and just likes to be calm and relaxed, rolls his eyes at their antics and pulls a paper out to restart his project.

“Well, Ikari, Cora, my disciple, well met and all those things,“ Stiles says with a whimsical wave of hands. “Don’t eat her… or the one behind her either, for that matter. That’s Peter and he provides enough entertainment to not let him suffer that fate.” Peter waves at the kitsune sassily, trying to not let out an embarrassing pleased smile. Judging by Cora’s snort, he’s not entirely successful. “That other one is all right…”

“Thanks,“ Derek deadpans, not taking his eyes from the blood ward he’s trying to etch into the parchment again. “The name’s Derek.”

“… she, you can eat, I don’t care. Might upset your stomach, though. The name’s bitch.”

“Hey! It’s Laura, you fucker!“

“Tche, no one cares about the name of their food unless they want seconds, and I doubt there’s someone else like you. Anyways,“ Stiles claps his hands, “since they’re still clearing the common room, I thought you’d like to go to the dungeons, Cora.”

“The last time you said that…“

“We agreed to never talk about that ever again,” he interrupts her hastily, and Peter raises an eyebrow, intrigued. “But, no, it’s a completely different thing I just thought you’d enjoy, but it’s obvious that you don’t want to, so…”

“Wait,“ Cora squeaks, and Peter catches Stiles covering a smile. “I’m game.”

“Well that sounds sufficiently intriguing. Mind if I tag along?“ Peter drawls from his seat.

Stiles looks at him over Cora’s head, gaze considering, as he adjusts some protection charm necklaces on her (and they worry about her safety, hah!). It’s telling that she doesn’t mind the contact and actually seems to enjoy it and preen at the attention.

“Sure,” he says finally and then throws to him a bracelet like Cora’s, but exactly on his size.

Score, Peter thinks, taking in all the implications of that. Cora, the brat, rolls her eyes at him when Stiles is not looking. Even the nogitsune smirks at him.

Aaannnddd now a fox mocks him too.

Wonderful.

He needs to get his act together.

Pronto.

But how to court Stiles? Everything he knows he would enjoy, he already has and in more quantity (and quality) than what Peter would be ever able to provide even if he tried. Other things he could get him with no problem, like clothes and other amenities, he doesn’t care for. What to do then?

Peter is a fan of the big gesture, but maybe that’s not the path to take in this case? Maybe it’s the small things are what he needs to watch out for…

He can already tell this is going to be a lengthy campaign. He sighs and follows after Cora and Stiles.

Spy, it is.

After a month of watching him (subtly, very subtly, not like a weirdo, no matter what Cora says about that) like a hawk, he feels confident enough to start.

Stiles, of course, foils all his plans when, after two or three measly small (but thoughtful) presents, he comes by the first tier common room to kidnap him, all exasperated.

“Seriously, Peter,“ he complains and grumbles after he slips a protective charm pendant around his neck. “Now you want to court me? If this wasn’t cute in it’s own way, I’d give up on you. How can you not have noticed I’ve been courting you for months?”

“What,“ Peter rakes his head dumbfounded and Stiles rolls his eyes, taking his hand to pull him out of the dorms. He lets him.

The texts Stiles lends him (they have to be from his own collection not the school’s, because that’s forbidden), the charms, the bracelet… Cora and Ikari’s exasperation makes a lot more sense now. Peter wants to facepalm really bad.

“I’m an idiot,“ he sighs chagrined.

“Yes, you are, but just sometimes and you have an amazing physique to compensate,“ Stiles makes a show of sticking his nose in the air, acting long-suffering, “so I’ll let it slide this time.”

Peter may be, quite possibly, in love, he realizes.

—

John starts getting at least a letter a month. Again, they’re stiff and too formal, but he’s not an idiot and he’s not going to look a gifted horse in the mouth, so he cherishes every and each one of them.

—

“Do you have a limit?” Cora asks wide eyed.

“Of course,“ Stiles purrs as she scratches behind his ear. “It’s not as easy at it seems. It’s taken me almost ten years to get at this point. I had to learn the anatomy of the ones I wanted to shift into perfectly before even attempting it. And even so, if professor Callaway hadn’t been there those first few times I would have died. Seriously, the first time I nearly had a heart failure because I didn’t have the heart of a cat clearly in my mind before shifting”

“Oh,“ she utters quietly.

“Cora?”

“It’s nothing, just a stupid thought.“

“If you’re sure…”

—

“Cora has been really quiet lately,“ Stiles tells him one day in December, sprawled on Peter’s bed with a thick tome in front of him. “I had to take her out of the laboratory because she nearly caused an explosion. The bad kind.”

He doesn’t look at him, but he can tell he’s worried. Peter sighs and lets himself fall into the bed, which makes Stiles bounce. He swats at him half-heartedly and Peter crushes him under himself playfully. He then rests his face between his shoulder blades and inhales deeply.

“I didn’t know there was a good kind?“

“No one but the special tier knows… you guys must live such a sad lives,“ he deadpans and Peter snorts.

“It’s the Wolf Moon,” he confesses after a beat of silence. Stiles makes an inquiring sound. “Basically, in January, the whole family has a reunion to run under the full moon, to strengthen the bonds and a lot of mystical whassit. Since she’s the only human in the family right now… Their attitude has gotten better ever after she presented, but this is something…”

“Fuckers,“ Stiles mutters darkly.

“Exactly. Ever since she got accepted, I’ve defied Talia by staying here, with her, but I still need to run. I can control myself and not leave her behind or hurt her, but she still feels bad about it, about making me hold back.”

“So it’s a matter of shifting?“

“I’d say more like a matter of willingness,” he huffs. “If they wanted, they could control themselves enough for her to run with us and for everyone to enjoy themselves. It’s what other packs with human members do (even the Hales when there used to be more human members). But they don’t want to, they want to be free or some stupid shit like that. Nonsense, because out of the whole family, only Talia and I manage a full shift, and if I can do it…”

After a moment of silence, Stiles speaks again. “So that’s why…“

And that’s that. Peter doesn’t hear anything else about the matter until Cora starts insisting about going home for the holidays this time, baffling Peter. Stiles is strangely accommodating about the whole issue, telling him has a lot of work to do, because a coven has hired him to draw some wards around their home and the rituals necessary for that have to be done the last day of the year and the first. And that’s not counting the two weeks of beforehand preparation he’s going to have to do in a week and a half.

Peter finally shrugs and decides to roll with it. Whatever it is that they have planned he’ll know soon enough. Hopefully.

The whole vacation, they spend more time outside their home than inside. Peter is losing hope of ever finding out what they have planned, but he’s not very heartbroken, because just the way Cora is getting back at the family (because it’s most certainly her, not Peter like everyone suspects… not that he’s going to confirm or deny anything) is the most entertaining thing he’s ever witnessed .

Then, Wolf Moon comes.

And Cora comes to the garden, protective charm necklace around her neck and with a defiant expression on her face.

And, in front of everyone, she performs a full shift and tackles the already wolf Peter.

If he could, he would cackle.

When Wolf Moon ends and they shift back, she proceeds to pull a cloak over him and look around at the stark naked people disdainfully.

“And, look at that, I don’t flash at anyone,“ she humphs as she leaves the clearing, a cackling Peter in tow.

He’s going to marry Stiles.

—

The letters keep coming. They’re not warm but they’re not cold, either.

The first time Stiles addresses him as dad again, John doesn’t even feel like an idiot for crying his eyes out.

—

“I want to try shifting into a cat next.”

“While I appreciate the irony, do you want to end as dog chew?“

“Don’t be an idiot, I never said what kind of cat.”

Stiles cackles.

—

Two years later, Peter decides it’s enough and that, since he’s never going to make special tier, he’s exhausted what he can (and wants to) learn from Salem. He knows Stiles is the same, but he’s just waiting for Cora to decide on a mentee.

He’s going to ask him to marry him. And since his initial courting got thwarted, he’s going to make it amazing and unique and memorable and all around awesome.

He spends an entire month mulling over it, about the how and the when. He gets a ring he knows Stiles will love. He researches wedding rituals. He cajoles and manipulates and blackmails some students and professors into helping. Basically, he does everything he can before feeling confident enough to finally go for it.

The day comes, everything is perfect, Stiles says yes.

Later, at Stiles’ common room cuddling each other, a sudden though assaults him… and a couple or three memories. And he recalls Ikari and Cora’s exasperated looks as of late, again.

“Stiles?”

“Mmhm?“

“Have you been courting me again?”

“Ah.“

“Dude,” comes from the end of the room, “he spent three months carving and assembling a protean charm. And he blew the laboratories three times before that.”

“And he went to the dragons to get those scales. He came back without eyebrows and had to grow them back with Capilagro.“

“Lets not forget about…”

“Okay, okay, I get it,“ Peter finally recovers enough to cut in. Stiles is shaking with the effort to contain his laughter.

“You were so cute planning all that and trying to hide it from me that I couldn’t destroy your efforts like that,” he admits with red all over his cheeks. Peter groans.

“I’m an idiot,“ he sighs chagrined.

“Yes, you are, but just sometimes and you have an amazing physique to compensate,“ Stiles snickers at him, “so I’ll let it slide this time.”

What Peter is, is so stupidly in love, he realizes.

He raises from the couch, pulling his wayward fiance with him and hoisting him up over his shoulder, and starts climbing the stairs to Stiles’s room enveloped by the sound of his laughter.

[maevefiction]

Your Light in the Mist - Chapter 34

We spent the remainder of our summer and early fall in London living like normal people and doing normal things. I’d get up and head into work each morning, my main focus having shifted to overseeing Trudy’s progress on the app and delving into creating pages on the Prosper site for all our clients, while Tom kept his social media activity at the level we’d agreed upon, in conjunction with working out, running lines for Skull Island, meeting with BFI and UNICEF, as well as reading the rest of the Vampire Chronicles.

Each night, we’d either eat in or go out to one of Tom’s favorite spots for dinner, and each weekend he’d take me to what he considered a ‘cannot be missed’ landmark or locale. Sundays were usually cinema day, my personal favorites we viewed being The Man From U. N. C. L. E. and American Ultra. Tom was fond of Before We Go, but I pointed out that he had to like it otherwise Captain America would kick his sorry ass, because he already had it out for him over the whole Loki wearing his suit thing. Interestingly, other than a random pap here and there in the heart of the city, we were essentially left to our own devices. No one seemed to care that we were walking around Regent’s Park drinking tea and coffee, having pizza, or grocery shopping. There were fans on occasion, and Tom was always gracious, stopping for a selfie and/or a chat, with me waiting in the wings or taking pictures. I had known it was possible to maintain some degree of anonymity no matter the level of fame involved, and now I’d come to the conclusion that it had a lot to do with the behavior of the celebrity themselves and directly proportional to the size of their entourage. Which we didn’t have, nor wished to have. Granted, Tom had yet to achieve rock god status, but still…if we smiled, waved, and moved on, so did everyone else. People being people.

Two weeks after his sisters had been informed of their father’s infidelity and misdirected their anger at Tom, Emma came over to our flat and they Skyped Sarah, talking through tears and shouts for two hours before apologizing to each other and realizing that the blame lay with no one other than Diana and James themselves. It was a huge weight off his shoulders, and it allowed us to move forward, both of us having dealt with our pasts as well as we could for the time being. Healing, learning, and discovering more and more of each other with every day that passed. Mundane things, like what kind of toothpaste either of us preferred, when we’d learned out times tables…the feeling that I’d always known him becoming increasingly prevalent and so very welcome. While I’d recognized that we were not only lovers but friends as well that night when I willingly shared my Ben and Jerry’s with him at the beach house in Hawaii, I couldn’t have imagined how deep that friendship would become. We lived, we loved, we laughed, and it was astounding to me that I could feel such…peace.

In mid-September the insanity began, both of us going on the road for the promotion of not one, not two, but THREE projects, High-Rise, I Saw the Light and Crimson Peak. The San Sebastian Film Festival, Toronto International Film Festival (where we ran into Norman, there promoting Sky, whose premier he invited us to and we attended), the BFI London Film Festival…it seemed endless, the screenings, Tom doing interview after interview, photoshoots and photo calls, Q & A sessions. How he managed to keep which project he was promoting at which event was a mystery to me, and I found myself asking him ‘dude, what’s this one for again’ more than once, and I spent nearly every moment behind the lens of a camera.

Nights were when I edited what I’d gathered and emailed it to Tom, who’d then post it all across his social media accounts. Then came updating the website, followed by fast and furious fucking, then sleep. At some point in all the chaos he‘d dragged me into a coatroom and fucked me from behind, but the when and where wasn’t the slightest bit important at the time so determining its actual geographical occurrence is now impossible…but other than that, we behaved ourselves, acting like grown-up professionals with jobs. I enjoyed just fading into the background and watching him shine. His performance in all three films blew me away, but High Rise was my favorite story. The abortion scene in I Saw the Light made me cringe, especially when I considered how he must have felt filming it, so soon after what he’d been through in his personal life. As soon as it was over, he’d leaned over and kissed my cheek, his hand in mine, both of us squeezing gently.

October twelfth found us in New York City, staying at my apartment, me packing up boxes to be shipped to London that week. My books, the rest of my clothes, and my computer. The rest would remain for when we visited, and while I knew I’d never sell the place, I also knew London had, in an obscenely short period of time, become home. The New Orleans house had been completely cleaned out, the August estate sale netting upwards of one hundred thousand dollars, and Tom made good on his promise to donate a matching amount to the women’s shelter while the actual proceeds were delivered to Will’s wife anonymously. I wasn’t sure what to do about renovations, but was hoping to stop in at some point during the holiday season and think it through.

The fourteenth was the NYC premiere of Crimson Peak, and we’d agreed that while I’d attend, I wouldn’t walk the carpet. He’d balked, at first, but I’d convinced him that doing so would allow everyone to focus on him and his co-stars, which was exactly where the focus BELONGED. I wore the black version of the red dress I’d worn to Daniel, and spent the entire limo ride back to the apartment following the after-party with his face buried in my breasts.

We flew to Nashville on the seventeenth to prepare for the premiere of I Saw the Light…Tom’s anxiety level ratcheted up to a nine, dreading the possibility of an appearance by Claudia. I steeled myself as best as I could, but, thankfully, it was completely unnecessary. The director wanted the venue to be small and down-home, so only bare-bones cast invites had been extended. Meeting his co-star Lizzie was a blast…she was friendly, funny, dorky and gorgeous. The two of us hung out in front of the stage as Tom performed for the crowd, dancing like a couple of idiots and singing along. He was incredible, those damn hips distracting me to no end, and his SMILE, my lord. He’d tried to teach me some guitar chords while we were on the road, but, as expected, I sucked in a way that no one had probably ever sucked before and decided once and for all that being able to sing was enough musical talent for one human being.

Principal photography for Skull Island was slated to start on the nineteenth on Oahu, but Tom wasn’t needed on set until November second so we decided to take a holiday the two weeks prior on Kauai. He’d even managed to sweet talk the reservations gal into giving us the same room…the one I’d been staying in when we met, number 203. As soon as we arrived, we both changed and headed out to put our toes in the sand, which is how we spent most of our time for the next ten days. At long last, my ass was on the fucking beach and it was pure, unadulterated bliss. The nights…that’s when we made up for lost time, screwing each other senseless until we passed out from exhaustion.  

Luke and Simon joined us on the twenty-ninth, a short birthday celebration jaunt for the latter. On the thirtieth we all went out to Nawiliwili Tavern to celebrate him turning thirty-eight, and I karaoked so much my throat hurt the next day. And really, it was just from singing. Really.

On the morning of my birthday, I left Tom snoring in our bed to watch the Halloween sunrise from the balcony, a knee-length tropical print satin robe wrapped around me. I’d become a fan of robes…easy to slip on, even easier to rip off. Both of us slept naked, and with all the hotels, room service and sex whenever we could squeeze it in while traveling, it was an excellent way to prevent me from answering the door in the buff. I leaned on the railing, listening to the waves crashing, watching the three joggers heading down the beach leaving sand flying in their wake. Thirty-eight. I wasn’t sure how the fuck this had happened, yet here I was, two years away from forty, the biological clock that had been silent before meeting Tom now ticking away loudly. We both baby goggled, and while we were still back in London we’d had lunch with Ben and his wife, each taking turns holding their baby. I’d caught Tom staring at me, his expression making me want toss my birth control pills in the garbage…full of adoration, love, want and so much more. And him holding such a tiny being in his huge hands…too precious for words.

Last year on this day I’d been working, giving a seminar in Chicago, and my celebration had consisted of six donuts at eleven-thirty PM in my hotel room while I watched the Matrix. This year…other than a costume party at Rob’s Good Times Grill in the evening, I had no clue what was in store for me. I reflected on how much my life had changed, and how I was so incredibly blessed, realizing that I’d be perfectly content to spend the entire day in our room, talking, laughing, dancing…all those simple things that made me genuinely happy. Me. Happy. Something I never thought I’d be, yet here I was. Standing on the balcony of the room where we’d first been intimate, on the island where we’d fallen in love. Grateful tears welled up, spilling over and running down my cheeks, and as I wiped them away I felt hands on my shoulders, followed by a kiss on my neck.

“Good morning, birthday girl.” I turned to face him, and he immediately noticed that I’d been crying. “You okay, love?”

“I’m amazing. Happy tears. Actually, grateful tears. Just thinking about how different things are from last year, and…”

He pulled me to his chest, smoothing my hair as he placed a kiss on top of my head. “I love you, my Maude.” He let me go, hands sliding around and down to grasp my forearms, grinning. “So, ready for your present?”

I poked his chest with my index finger. “Dude, you PROMISED me, NO PRESENTS. The time we’re getting to spend together here before you start filming is my present, and every day with you is a gift ANYWAY so…”

Several beats of uncharacteristic silence followed. “Well look at you, leaving me at a loss for words.”

Wrangling free of his grip, I clapped excitedly. “That’s like a whole ‘NOTHER present, man. WOO HOO!”

He laughed, a drawn out ‘ehehehehehe’, ceasing only when we thought we heard someone yell for us to shut up. We ran back inside and closed the balcony doors behind us, sat on the bed and perused the breakfast menu. I opted for scrambled eggs, pancakes and bacon, and Tom decided upon an egg and cheese omelet. After eating quickly, we showered together, and as we dried off in the main area of the room he cleared his throat nervously.

“So, um…I was wondering if maybe you’d like to take a ride out to Talk Story today? I thought perhaps you’d want to pick up some new reading material for while I’m shooting?”

The man knew the only time I had to read these days was when I was on the toilet, but I went with it because, BOOKS. And I’d wanted to go there before we moved on to Oahu anyway, even if it was just to look around. The origin of us. A huge grin spread across my face.

“That sounds fucking epic, babe. What time is it now, like eight-thirty? They open at ten, and the trip there is an hour…”

“Shall we see if Luke and Simon want to join us?”

I snorted. “Ha, if Simon’s even awake yet it would be a bona-fide fucking miracle…but sure, why not? It’d be cool for them to see where we met. God, I’m such a romantic saphead asshat. Gross.”

He laughed, wrapped his towel around his waist and grabbed his phone off the desk. I returned to the bathroom to brush my teeth, only hearing bits and pieces of the conversation. After hanging up, he joined me, eyes on my reflection, and the memory of him fucking me right there four months ago made me shiver, goosebumps pebbling my flesh.

“Believe it or not, they’re not only awake, they’ve had breakfast. Or at least Luke has. Simon appears to be on a liquid diet so far today.”

I spit a final time then spun around, brows raised, and he chuckled.

“What I MEANT was he’s too hung over for food, little miss filthy dirty mind.”

I slapped his ass as I walked out of the bathroom to get dressed. “You fucking love it.”

“Oh, I absolutely do.”

Black bra and panties, grey hiking shorts…but I figured I should ask what he was wearing before I picked out a shirt.

“Babe, what are you....” I’d turned around so my voice would carry better to the bathroom only to find him right THERE, his cock at half-mast. I coughed, then continued. “Wearing. What are you wearing? Fuck, the naked sneak up is NOT COOL, Hiddleston.”

He smirked. “My khaki shorts and a white V-neck, I think.”

“Good. Then I can wear a black one.” I finished dressing while he began, then went to stand before the mirror so I could put my hair back in a ponytail. I’d had it cut and styled before we left London, the ends brushing just below my collar bones. For some reason, even just a few inches and a tiny bit of layering made it much easier to manage. As I was strapping on my Birkenstocks, a quiet rapping on the door began. Tom opened it, and when I saw Simon was wearing giant Kardashian-style mirrored aviator sunglasses indoors, I shouted. Loudly. Even though it hurt my throat to do so.

“Good morning, Mr. Ahlberg. How are we feeling today? Looks like you may have had too much birthday, am I right?”

His voice was raspy as he pulled the Panama hat he was sporting further down his forehead. “Fuck off, bitch.” He was wearing a dark green Polo shirt, white shorts and white loafers.

I rose as he and Luke entered the room, and Luke grinned as he embraced me briefly.

“Happy Birthday, Maude.”

“Thank you, Luke. You look none the worse for wear.” He’d paired khaki shorts with a medium-blue faded T-shirt and Teva sandals, also khaki with blue stripes.

He snorted. “One of us had to behave responsibly. He was up half the night with his head in the bowl…”

Simon shoved him out of the way, wrapping his arms around me to support himself after placing a quick kiss on my cheek, whispering in my ear. “Please kill me. I know it’s your birthday, but it IS Halloween so it’s sort of apropos and I really need to die. I beg you. Put me out of my misery.”

I squeezed him tightly and whispered back. “Not a chance, asshole. I enjoy your snark entirely too much to let it slip from my grasp so easily.”

He sighed, releasing me. “Fine, fine. On with the hour long car ride then. Followed by staring at some books. Then an hour long car ride back. All during which I could have been resting up for tonight.”

We used their rental car, as I’d demanded to have a Jeep Wrangler again and thought Simon might puke if we took that instead. Much like Luke had thought he’d do when we’d gone to our Hula class. Ah, life’s fun parallels that arise from excessive alcohol consumption. Tom had gone back up to the room to retrieve his forgotten phone, and when he came back we were off. Luke and Simon sat in the back, Simon resting his head on Luke’s shoulder, moaning from time to time when Tom took a turn too fast.

He parked us a block down, and we jumped out of the vehicle, excited to be back, and he picked me up and spun me around as we waited for Simon’s slow-ass self.

I rolled my eyes as Tom set me down. “Christ, Simon…you’re like a little old man. Fucking move it along, won’t you?”

I got the bird in return, but the corners of his mouth turned up in a tiny smile. The ibuprofen I’d given him in the car must have started to kick in. Why he hadn’t thought of it on his own…no clue. As we reached the red doors, Tom took my hand, smiling as he opened the door for me. It was exactly the same, which wasn’t really a surprise as only four months had passed, but a feeling washed over me at the sight of it anyway, one of pure joy. His hand squeezed mine as we walked inside, and behind the counter was Roger Marshal, still bearded, same glasses, different Hawaiian shirt, this time red with green leaves. He grinned widely and came around to shake our hands.

“Aloha, Mr. Hiddleston, Ms. Gallagher. Welcome back.  I see you brought friends with you on this glorious Halloween day in paradise.”

Tom introduced him to Simon and Luke while I wandered down to the stacks where we’d met. The place was relatively empty…I didn’t see anyone, but assumed customers were just quietly browsing elsewhere. Music was playing, something by 10,000 Maniacs, the name of which always escaped me. Almost instinctually, I went right for the ‘K’s, looking for my white whale…and…THERE IT FUCKING WAS. Not three feet away from me, the spine of the dust jacket unmistakable, silver-grey with a long black tower and yellow text. I stood, frozen in place, listening to footsteps approaching just as I had on that day back in June. Tom’s hand touched my shoulder gently.

“You okay? You didn’t move a muscle while we walked down here.”

I pointed. “It’s there. Do you see it? Tell me you see it.”

He looked. “See what?”

“THE BOOK. THE GUNSLINGER. Yellow text. Black tower. TELL ME YOU SEE IT.”

“Oh, okay…yes…I see it. Wait, isn’t that…”

I nodded, still using my indoor voice but enunciating so strongly they sounded out in all caps. “YES. MY WHITE WHALE. THAT IS A FIRST EDITION COPY OF THE GUNSLINGER.”

He laughed, squeezing my shoulder. “And you’re not over there pulling it off the shelf and holding on to it for dear life, why, exactly?”

Reaching up, I patted his hand gently as I whispered. “Because I’m afraid that if I move or even if I blink it will disappear, having only been the cruelest of mirages.”

“If I can see, it, it MUST be real, yes?” His other hand patted my ass. “Best grab it before someone else does, don’t you think?”

I turned to him briefly, eyes wide. “YES. Excellent idea.”

One step, two steps, both very slow, and I noticed that the song had changed. Tilting my head to make sure I wasn’t hearing things in addition to possibly seeing things, I listened closely, turning back around to face Tom.

“Is it me or…is that Tigerlily by La Roux?”

His own head tilted, and he nodded, smiling. “You’re right, it is. What a fantastic coincidence!”

I nodded again, then turned back to my prey. Another two steps and I was there, reaching out my hand to touch the spine gingerly, then quickly pulling back as if I’d been burned.

“Oh my god it’s REAL. And not only is it REAL I think it’s in, like, MINT FUCKING CONDITION this is…I just…” I carefully slid it off the shelf, turning it over in my hands, then back again, opening the cover ever so gently. Much to my horror, there was something written on the flyleaf. I was about to stomp my foot when I noticed my name.

Happy Birthday, Maude.

You hold in your hands not only a first edition, but one from my personal collection…and out of the first box the publisher sent to me. The God of Mischief asked me to do him a solid, and I figured it might be a good idea to go the extra mile. Thanks for being a Constant Reader all these years, and may the wheel of Ka always move forward for you.

With love,

Steve

PS - CONGRATULATIONS!

Tigerlily was still playing, and I re-read the text again, realizing that Tom had planned all of this, for ME, for MY birthday, and I nearly burst into tears but the last bit of what Steve…STEPHEN FUCKING KING… had written confused me and I focused on that in an attempt to keep my shit together. I began speaking, still staring at the word as I turned around.

“Tom, why did he write congra…” I looked up from my precious treasure but didn’t see him, just Luke and Simon, their phones held up and pointing at me. “…ulations?” My gaze moved lower, and there he was. Tom. Down on one knee. Right arm extended. And in his hand was a small black box.

I’d like to say the world around me grew silent and time stopped and the angels began to sing, but that would be lying and, if nothing else, I’m an honest woman.

What really happened is that I blurted out “Ohmygodthefuckareyoudoing?” followed by my right hand flying up to cover my mouth, trying to shove what had just come out back in.

His eyes met mine, peering up from under his brows, lashes so long and soft and glistening with tears, his smile shy and kind and beautiful and I could see his hand shaking just the tiniest bit and my knees got weak and I had to uncover my mouth so I could breathe otherwise my big ass was going to hit the fucking floor.

He cleared his throat, then began to speak. “One hundred and twenty-five days. That’s how long it’s been since I walked through those red doors, down these stacks and saw you, my light in the mist. All of those days that came and went before…they all appear in shades of grey in my mind now, as if I never truly saw the world around me in color until the moment my eyes met yours for the first time. And however many more days we’re blessed with on this earth, I want to spend each and every one of them with you. I know I’ve said this bit already, when we first arrived in New York, but…I’m going to say it again, because it’s the truth, the only truth I know, the only truth that matters. I will love you all of this life, and in each and every one that follows. I will love you as the world turns to ash around us. I will love you as the universe collapses into itself, and in the blackness of the eternity that awaits, I will remain, with you, at your side, holding your hand, never to let go. This love…it knows no bounds. It is forever. Two souls made one, together unto infinity. Maude Gallagher, will you do me the honor…the most extraordinary honor that could ever be bestowed upon me…of becoming my wife?”

I’d stopped breathing at some point, inhaling with an audible gasp at his conclusion, then answering.

“Absofuckingloutely. Yes. Yes yes yes yes YES!”

I threw myself at him, and he rose to catch me just in time, both of us laughing and crying, his forehead resting against mine, Simon and Luke whistling and shouting as we kissed, murmuring ‘I love you’ over and over when we came up for air. Tom pulled back, grinning holding up the black box and shaking it back and forth.

“Aren’t you curious to see your ring?”

Rolling my eyes, I sighed. “I guess so. Whip it out.”

He opened the lid, and what I saw nested inside the black velvet made me feel faint for the second time in mere minutes. The ring was sterling silver, with an oval cut and polished black stone set in raised parenthesis shaped sterling silver bars, one to each side, perfectly mimicking of the style of the necklace given to me by my father. My voice eluded me, and he mistook my silence for displeasure.

“It’s not traditional, I know, and if you’d rather have a diamond we can…”

My head shook back and forth as I reached out and touched it with my right index finger in disbelief, then met his gaze.

“That’s black tourmaline.” He nodded, and I recalled the conspiratorial glance Luke’s mother and Tom’s sister had shared after I’d tried on a ring back at the Cube gallery. “Phaedra made this.”

He nodded again, eyes questioning. I bit my lip, then inhaled sharply before speaking again. “Will you put it on me please?”

His voice was timid, soft. “You like it, then?”

“No, Tom. I love it. It’s perfect. You’re perfect. Everything’s perfect. Put. It. On. Me.” I grinned. “Please.”

As Simon sidled over and took the Gunslinger away from me, Tom slipped the ring out of its slot, put the box in his pocket, then took my left hand in his right and slid the first tangible symbol of our commitment to one another home with the other, a huge, beautiful smile spreading across his face as I brought both our hands up to stare at my latest jewelry acquisition. He watched me, silently, and all the other moments that I’d pushed aside over the past four months formed a slideshow in my mind’s eye. Ben smirking at us as we looked through his wedding album, nudging his wife in the ribs as she giggled…what I’d overheard at Diana’s house, that he wanted something to be ‘perfect’…and, finally, the afternoon at Greenwood Cemetery back in New Orleans when I’d said goodbye to my father. Tom had gone to the crypt, introduced himself and told my father how much he loved me, then asked him a question, cupping his hand to his mouth and whispering against the stone, waiting for an answer, then nodding as he said ‘thank you, sir’. When I’d asked what his question had been he’d refused to tell me, though when I inquired as to whether my father had answered, he’d replied ‘I’d like to think he did.’

Gasping, my hand again flew to my mouth as my breath hitched and the tears flowed. “Tom…my god…how long…when did you decide…was it back in…Tom, that day in the cemetery…my dad…is that what you…”

He nodded, weeping as well. “Yes. I asked him for your hand in marriage.”

Choking back sobs, I reached out and placed my right hand on his shoulder. “But…when did you…when…”

His fingers grazed my temple, then my cheek, coming to rest on my jaw. “When did I know that I wanted to marry you?” I nodded. “That moment in the hotel in New Orleans when you said that if you really, truly love someone you accept them just as they are…and that you accepted me, all of me, every bit. As I took you in my arms, it hit me…I wasn’t just holding the woman I’d fallen in love with any longer. I was holding my wife.”

My sobs broke free, and I wrapped myself around him and buried my face in his chest. He rocked me, smoothing my hair, his chin on the top of my head. “I’m sorry it took me so long to ask. I just…I wanted it to be…perfect.”

Pulling away, I snorted. “Mission accomplished, you glorious bastard. This was over the top, ridiculously romantic, Clint Eastwood and Rob Reiner co-directing a love story PERFECT.”

His eyes widened. “Oh, I almost forgot. The ring…there’s an inscription…”

I yanked it off and held it up to my face. Around the solid portion of the band, flanked on either side by two tiny books was written in a teeny, tiny font, two lines, one on top of the other:

Talk Story - 6/29/15 - Our Story

My Light in the Mist

“Thomas William Hiddleston, I hope you realize that now we have to get MARRIED here. Like, right here. In this very spot. Bridezilla has come ashore and she won’t have it any other way.” I turned my attention from the ring to his face. “I’m serious. Can we? Is that cool with you? Getting married here? I mean, I guess we need to ask…” His smirk resulted in an epic eye roll and heavy sigh from me as I slipped the ring back on my finger. “Aaaaand…you already asked, didn’t you?”

He nodded. “Roger’s fine with it. We just need to let him know a few weeks in advance so he can arrange to close the shop.”

For some reason, that solidified what had just occurred. Tom had asked me to marry him. I’d said yes. I was now his fiancé, the future Mrs. Thomas Hiddleston. And there was now a wedding to plan. Which was exciting and amazing but I had no idea what to do next so I just stood, like a deer caught in headlights. He leaned in, nose touching mine.

“You okay?”

I nodded hard, attempting to clear my head, letting the euphoria take over. “My god, we’re getting MARRIED. Maude Hiddleston. I’m going to need to start practicing that. Gotta say, it sounds pretty fucking great. Nice ring to it. Maude Hiddleston. Yep. Sold.”

His jaw had dropped open, then closed again, eyes full of surprise. “I…you…you want to change your name?”

“Uhhh…yeah. Why wouldn’t I? I mean, if you don’t want…”

He took my hands in his. “Oh, no, no…I…I’d love for you to take my name. See, that sounds awful. Archaic. I didn’t want you to feel like you had to or that I expected you to because, I mean, you’re known a certain way professionally and…”

My lips found his, tongue pushing into his mouth, silencing him the best way I knew how. And, other than pushing his head down between my thighs, my favorite way. As we broke the kiss, he grinned, and so did I.

“Tom. I know some women are very much against changing their names or like to hyphenate, and that’s totally cool, but I’m not one of them. To me, it’s part of joining with someone. Being a family. If that makes me old-fashioned, too fucking bad. Plus, what happens when your kid with the hyphenated name marries another kid with a hyphenated name? Chaos, I say. Chaos.”

His expression was so earnest, so thankful that it caused me to take pause, during which I become cognizant of all I had to be thankful for as well. And that I hadn’t even said thank you, for anything he’d done, which resulted in waterworks yet again as I let go of his hands to place mine on the sides of his beautifully chiseled countenance.

“I’m so sorry…I didn’t say thank you, for any of this…but I’m telling you now. Thank you, Tom. Thank you. I’m going to remember this forever and tell it over and over and our kids and grandkids will be like SHUT UP WE HEARD THAT STORY A HUNDRED TIMES ALREADY and it’s just…I love you, so much, and I’m so blessed to have you in my life and my god, I can’t believe you want to MARRY me because I mean I’m ME and…”

It was his turn to cut things off with a kiss, and as he pulled back I heard Simon’s voice, realizing I had completely forgotten that we weren’t alone and wondering exactly how much they’d filmed.

“Yay, yay, you’re engaged, that’s super, who isn’t though, you know? Anyway. I’m going to create a diversion because if Maude cries again I’m going to lose all respect for her and, frankly, I don’t have that much left TO lose so…” He wrenched me from Tom’s grasp and turned me to face him. “SO, I assume that I’ll be your maid of honor? Because honey, you are REALLY going to need my help…”

I rolled my eyes. “Actually, you’ll wind up being my MATRON of honor because you’ll probably be MARRIED by then, you big fucking dumbass. And…and…” I started to sniffle, tears welling up again.

He covered his eyes with his right hand, having taken the shades off to film, and groaned. “Oh. My. God. Are you going to cry from now until whenever it is you get hitched? Because if that’s the case feel free to go before Luke and I do.”

When I didn’t reply, he uncovered his eyes, saw the look on my face and placed both hands on my shoulders. “I’m sorry, gorgeous…talk to me.”

Taking a deep breath, I wiped the tears from my cheeks with the back of one hand, then attempted to speak. “Will you…I…my…I don’t have a…my dad…isn’t…will…will you walk me down the aisle?”

He, Tom and Luke burst into tears at that, Simon’s hand over his mouth as he nodded repeatedly and pulled me to his chest. His voice was deep but soft in my ear when he was able to talk again. “Of course I will, honey. Of course I will. I’m so sorry your father won’t be there. And you know I’m, like, SO not religious so I’m not going to give you the watching over you nonsense, though I guess who the fuck really knows, but in a way he WILL be there, because he’s part of you. And we need to talk about something else now because crying is making my headache IN-FUCKING-TOLERABLE…”

He released me and Luke took his place immediately, warmly embracing me for the second time that day. His quiet authority was what I saw most of…it wasn’t until we were off the clock that he became himself, and even at that we were only moderately affectionate. Drunk Luke, though…that was an entirely different story. After a few pats to the back, we let each other go, and I pointed at Tom.

“This is some stunt you pulled here, young man. I hope you realize that.”

He grinned from ear to ear, tongue peeking out from between his teeth. “Oh, I do.” His brows rose. “Were you truly surprised?”

“Um, YEAH. No clue. Well, not exactly NO clue. I mean, I picked up on a few things along the way that I seemed odd but I just pushed them aside because…” My eyes turned skyward as I thought of the best way to phrase what came next. “Because as much as I wanted it to be what I thought it was, I couldn’t be sure and I didn’t want to be disappointed if it never happened, I guess. But. Yeah. So, do we need to fill anyone in on the news or am I totally the last one to know?”

“If it never happened. You’re a silly, silly girl.” His lips grazed my cheek. “And yes, there are still plenty of people to tell. Anyone who was privy to my plan was purely essential.”

My left eyebrow shot up. “Oh, how did Ben and Sophie factor in? Do tell.”

He blushed adorably. “I may have tattled to Chris and Elsa too. But…Anne’s still in the dark, so maybe start there?”

Simon had set the Gunslinger on the nearest table, and I started at it and sighed happily. “I cannot BELIEVE you not only managed to find me a first edition copy of the Gunslinger, but you got Stephen King to sign it, and it’s ONE FROM HIS PERSONAL COLLECTION. You are such a complete dork, and I am the luckiest woman alive, Thomas William Hiddleston.”

He walked to my side and slipped an arm around my waist. “So, should we take a photo to post online? Or would you rather do something more formal?”

I snorted. “Fuck formal. Picture, please.”

I held up my left hand at face level between us, the back of it towards Tom’s phone, which Luke was holding, then pointed at the ring with my right and posed with my mouth stretched wide open in a gleeful grin. Tom pointed at it as well, and three clicks later we were good to go.

Taking the phone back from Luke, he typed, then stopped. “Do you want to call Anne before I post this?”

“Nah. I’ll wait for her to call. It’s more fun this way…and honestly, I have no idea how to tell people without sounding like an asshole, so…yeah. Post it.”

He clicked, then turned the screen so I could see it. There we were, his expression mimicking mine, his Twitter message short and sweet.

She said YES!!!!!!!!!! #thefuturemrshiddleston, #iamsoveryblessed,  #luckiestmanintheuniverse

Chuckling, I passed the phone back to him. “Um, actually what I said was ‘absofuckingloutely’. Shit. That’s like, filmed and recorded as my official reaction to being proposed to in the most beautiful and perfect way possible. Nice one, me.”

Luke cleared his throat. “So, not to be a killjoy…” Simon snorted. “Do we have a date in mind for the blessed event? Tom’s schedule is…”

I raised my hand. “Oh, oh…I know what Tom’s schedule is…it’s an insane MESS. Gee, wish there was an app for that or something. HA! Anyhow, you’ll have to double check, but I’m pretty sure that there is zero room for it to happen until late April or early May.”

Scrolling through his phone, Luke nodded. “You’re right. After the I Saw the Light press tour and premiere he’s got Night Manager promo until it airs in the states on April nineteenth. Really, the best month seems to be June.”

Tom spread his hands wide. “Well, that makes it simple. Let’s do it on the first anniversary of the day we met. June twenty-ninth. I think I can even squeeze in time for a honeymoon before heading to Australia to start in on Ragnarock.” He turned to me, brows raised, questioning. “Okay with you?”

My eyes met his, then roamed up and down over his form. This breathtakingly beautiful, kind, compassionate, intelligent, gifted, hilarious being…he was going to be my husband. I felt the tears creeping up on me again, but shook them off, breaking myself of the habit lest I, as Simon feared, kept crying every time I thought about marrying the man for the next eight months.

“Oh yeah. Totally okay with me. And shall I assume you had that planned all along as well?”

He laughed, throwing his head back, one hand on his abdomen, smirking adorably when he’d managed to compose himself. “No, actually…that one was totally off the cuff.”

“Sure it was.”

Laughing again, he grabbed my shoulders. “It was. I swear it.”

I sighed. “Well, if you swear it, I guess I should believe you. So…I know this will come as a shock, but …I’m STARVING. Birthday girl needs lunch. Feed birthday girl NOW.”

Tom pulled me close and placed a gentle kiss on my forehead. “How’s Kauai Pasta sound?”

“It sounds like you made reservations for four is how it sounds.” He smiled, licking his lips. “Which is awesome, because I am such a slut for Alfredo…”

Simon’s face appeared over Tom’s shoulder. “Oh, oh…can we please go over the list of things you’re a slut for? THERE ARE SO MANY…”

I flipped him off. “Please. Your list is so long it wouldn’t fit on my 32 gig USB drive.”

His eyes widened in mock horror. “My, my. She becomes some hot guy’s fiancé and her rudeness trebles. Unacceptable.”

Grinning, I turned my gaze back to Tom. “So, are we, like, done with surprises for the day? Because I’m not sure my heart can take another one. Though I do have a surprise of my own for YOU…”

“You do, do you? And what would that be?”

I patted his chest. “That would be my Halloween costume, babe. I fear you may not survive.”

He placed his hand over mine, leaning in so his face was inches from mine. “You do realize that you have not the slightest inkling as to what I’m wearing, don’t you?”

I didn’t. I’d been so focused on keeping mine under wraps I hadn’t considered HIS. And I was afraid to imagine, because the party now seemed an eternity away and if I let my mind wander…my mouth dropped open, then closed, opened, then closed again. “Fuck. Fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck. I am so, so fucked.”

A whisper in my ear. “Oh, you are indeed, my darling. You are indeed.”

[monstersandmaw]

Male Dullahan - ‘Choose Your Own Adventure’ Story - Final Part (nsfw)

Edit which I’m including in all my works after plagiarism and theft has taken place: I do not give my consent for my works to be used, copied, published, or posted anywhere. They are copyrighted and belong to me.

Here's the 4k or so conclusion to the now rather epic cyoa story! It's been a blast, and I have loved sharing it with you. D has become one of my favourite characters, as has my darling goblin boy Kravik, as you might be able to tell from this chapter. Perhaps he'll get his own story soon...? My supporters over on Patreon have already had access to this, and I want to thank them publicly for their wonderful comments and support. Now it’s everyone else’s turn. Thank you for making this epic project possible, fun, and come to life...

Anyway, without further ado, here is the final part, Part Thirteen (because 13 is actually a lucky number, I promise...)

Catch up on the full series here if you missed it: Part One, Part Two, Part Three, Part Four, Part Five, Part Six, Part Seven, Part Eight, Part Nine, Part Ten, Part Eleven, Part Twelve  

“I’m coming with you, D.”

At your response, he sucked in a sharp breath, his fingers clenched in an iron grasp around the brush in his hand. Midnight shifted uneasily, sensing his roiling emotions, and then stuck her nose out to nuzzle against his back, as though offering him encouragement. D let his shoulders drop and he sighed heavily and nodded. “Very well.”

“‘Very well’,” you snorted. “That’s all you’ve got to say?”

His gaze turned from hard to pained in a heartbeat, and he lowered his eyes to the gravel of the path between you. That distance - perhaps only three or four feet - seemed an impassable gulf until he spoke again. “What am I supposed to say?” he asked softly. “I could already see that that would be your answer.”

“Aren’t you happy about it?” you demanded.

“You know my feelings on the matter,” he said flatly. “I want you safe before I want you with me; before all else.”

“Safe and sad,” you spat sourly. “Got it. I thought you were going to respect my decision,” you added, feeling your face heat up. “I thought…”

D took a step towards you and held out his hand. “I’m sorry,” he said. “This is just a big change for me. It’s a lot for me to deal with. My kind work alone, and what we do can be very dangerous at times. I told you all this already though. I just… I just hoped you might stay here, that’s all.”

The dullahan suddenly went rigid, and with a wave of his hand, Midnight and he both vanished from your sight.

“D?” you asked, stepping forwards in panic.

“Quiet,” came his rumbling voice. “I’m still here. It’s just a glamour. Someone’s coming.”

“Don’t you dare sneak off, will you?”

His touch on your elbow made you jump, and his warm breath fanned out across your cheek and neck. With a soft chuckle, he pressed a kiss onto your skin that made goosebumps skitter over your whole right-hand side, and he murmured, “I won’t sneak off, I promise.”

“We could have some fun with this, you know?” you giggled, and with a final squeeze somewhere considerably cheekier than your arm, D vanished from your perception.

A few seconds later, Kravik emerged out of the evening shadows on the road, his hands in his pockets, the little goblin whistling softly to himself as he walked. When he saw you already standing on the road in front of your house, apparently alone, he drew up short in surprise, and tilted his head. “Everything alright?” he asked as he approached.

You nodded. “Yeah.”

“I thought I’d drop in and see if you’re doing alright… You know, after your dullahan dropped by last night.”

You looked pointedly over at where Midnight had been - and probably still was - standing, and said loudly, “He’s still here.”

D took it for the invitation it was, and removed the glamour, since Kravik already knew all about him. The goblin leapt about a foot to the side in surprise as the horse materialised out of thin air, shortly followed by the tall figure of the dullahan, standing beside her shoulder. He nodded politely at Kravik, but remained silent.

“Right,” the goblin said awkwardly once he’d recovered. “Well, look, I didn’t mean to interrupt. I just wanted to check you were alright. I’ll, erm… yeah…” He gestured vaguely over his shoulder with his thumb.

“Wait, Krav,” you called as he turned away. “I… I do need to talk to you. Any chance you’re gonna be at the inn a bit later tonight?”

“I can be,” he said carefully, dark eyes narrowing.

“Great,” you chirped. “I’ll see you there in a bit then…”

He was clearly still very suspicious as he turned away, but he trusted you, and nodded curtly at D before he left.

About an hour or so later after discussing things in more detail with D, you headed to the Highwayman’s Secret. As you approached, you tried hard not to look too closely at the sign above the door this time, since you now knew the actual subject of the painting and the truth of the story behind the inn’s name. D remained behind at your little hut, having promised - yet again - that he would not leave town without you.

Kravik took the news of your imminent departure about as well as you’d thought he would. He was devastated. He said he understood, and that he wanted you to be happy, but his delicate, grey, tapering ears drooped visibly and his dark eyes shone with unshed tears.

“Krav, I’m sorry,” you said, seizing hold of his long, spindly fingers and squeezing him hard.

A single tear spilled from the rim of his eyes and rolled down his cheek towards his sharp chin. “I’m going to miss you so much,” he whispered, his glassy gaze fixed on your joined hands. “You’ve always been there for me.”

“I’ll still be here for you, Krav,” you said. “I’ll write to you, and I’ll visit when I can.”

“Just promise me you’ll take care,” he said, and you nodded. “When are you leaving?”

“I don’t know,” you said, “But soon. Maybe even tomorrow.”

His grip clenched even tighter, and he bowed his head, bringing your hands up to his brow. He pressed his forehead against your skin and sighed, silent tears now rolling freely down his cheeks.

“Krav, don’t cry,” you said, choking up. “Please…”

“Come and say goodbye before you go?” he asked, and you promised.

You spent the rest of the evening holding his slender hands and talking about everything, from the progress the goblins were making and what they would do now that the mine was closed, to your earliest childhood memories of scrumping for apples and stealing fresh-baked biscuits from the open door of the baker’s together… Most of the goblins to move away to where their family and friends worked in other mining villages and towns, while only a few were prepared to try and find different work in the same area. Kravik said that he might try and look for somewhere else, now that he knew you weren’t going to be there, and you tried not to feel too guilty. It would be a new chapter for both of you.

“You’ll have lots to tell me about when we see each other again…” you smiled. “You must let me know where you decide to go…”

As the night wore on, you were joined by the rest of your friends, and you told them that you were leaving and planning to travel. They seemed supportive and excited, though Erik said he and his brother would miss you. Only you and Kravik knew the truth, that you were going to be galloping off in the morning with a dullahan, and once you’d said all your goodbyes, you let Kravik and Erik walk you back to the hut. Erik gave you a minotaur-speciality, bone-crushing hug at the door, while Kravik just stood there looking miserable. You knelt down, knowing that he didn't mind it when you did so, and put yourself at his eye level. You drew him close to you and held his small body tightly. He was trembling softly.

“I love you, Krav,” you whispered to your life-long best friend. “I’m sorry I’m leaving.”

“I get it,” he said. “I really do; I just… I’m… I’m going to miss you.”

“I promise I’ll come and say goodbye tomorrow.”

He nodded, and you stood and walked up the stairs to your front door. Pausing with your hand on the latch, you gazed back and saw Kravik and Erik walking away, the goblin looking so miserable it almost made you change your mind.

You pushed the door open and D looked up at you from a seat by the fire, one of your favourite books in his lap. His physical head appeared still to be in its protective chest because the soft glow of his green essence flared a little brighter as you walked in. When he saw the expression on your face, however, he closed the book and surged to his feet, striding over to you and putting his hands on your shoulder and waist. “What’s wrong?” he asked. “What happened?”

“I hate goodbyes,” you said glumly and closed the door behind you with a click.

“You don’t have to -”

“Don’t finish that,” you snapped, trying to blink the tears from your eyes. “Tonight was painful enough without you making it worse by changing my mind. I’m coming with you, and that’s that. Alright? We’re done talking about it.”

He nodded and leaned down to kiss your tears away. “I’m sorry,” he murmured. “I didn’t want to be an ass about this. I just wanted you to consider it thoroughly.”

“I have,” you said. “I missed you so much when I thought you were dead… But knowing you were out there, and that I couldn’t be with you, would be even worse. I think it would just about destroy me, D.”

He smiled suddenly, and you flashed him a quizzical frown. He chuckled, and said, “I love that you call me that.”

“What, ‘D’?”

“Yes,” he said, ducking low to kiss you right on the corner of your lips and making you smile. He thumbed a line across your cheekbone and drew you towards the fire to warm you up.

Instead of taking a seat opposite him, you sank into his lap, and he laughed as you leaned your body against his chest, resting the back of your head on his shoulder. “Why do you like it?” you asked in a quiet voice. The flickering and crackling of the logs in the grate were the only other sounds in the hut, and you savoured the quiet peace of it after the noise of the inn and the rush of Kravik’s emotions. “It was just a stupid thing I started calling you before I knew your name…”

“I know,” he said, sliding his arms around your waist and hugging you. “But you thought of me as an individual worth naming, not just ‘a dullahan’. You cared enough to call me something in your own mind. It’s nice, that’s all. I… I feel more…” he shrugged and your head bobbed slightly with the movement. “I feel more human, I suppose. Less… less anonymous.”

You laced your fingers through his and brought them up briefly to your lips to kiss them before lowering them once again into your lap. They came to rest on your thigh, but he soon let go of you and began to hoist your dress slowly up your leg until he had bare skin beneath his palm. You groaned and leaned harder into him, feeling him wakening beneath you, even as heat pooled between your legs. You rolled your hips just to confirm it, and he groaned sensuously in your ear. His ghostly lips brushed the shell of your ear and his breath made your skin tingle as he kissed down your neck. He was slow, taking his time, biting and sucking bruises, then kissing the brief sting away with his soft, cold lips. His hand searched beneath your dress, and he moaned when he felt how wet you were for him.

“Already?” he gasped, and you nodded, tilting your hips up to meet the touch and guide him right to where you wanted him. He made slow, torturous, loving circles around your aching clit, sliding his fingertips carefully up your inner lips, mindful always of the sharpness of his claws. When he did catch you accidentally and you hissed, he growled and cursed. “I’m sorry,” he said. “I’m going to have to do something about that now, aren’t I?”

“What, about your talons or about the fact that I need kissing better?” you asked playfully. It honestly didn’t hurt much at all.

With a playful, laughing snarl, he put his hands around your waist and lifted you off him. He set you down again and began to kiss you, backing you towards your bedroom with a low, rumbling growl constantly emanating from his chest like a rakshasa’s purr.  

“I love that sound,” you gasped between kisses, your palms flat on his chest, feeling the vibrations of it.

“Good,” he hissed, “Because I can’t help it.”

He was more assertive than he’d yet been as he steered you into your bedroom and pushed you roughly onto your bed. He stripped you both - mercifully not ripping your clothes apart this time - and parted your legs with a gruff gesture that had your head lolling with the pleasure of it. He didn’t waste any time in setting his kissing lips and teasing tongue to you, sucking hard on your clit and circling it with the tip of his dark tongue until you began to shake all over.

When you made to grab his ghostly head, he deliberately evaded you, turning intangible, and you complained and whined at him while he laughed and continued to send tingling chills over your body with the ghostly touch of his tongue and the sting of his sharp claws against your thighs.

“D, please!” you begged, bucking your hips upwards in desperation.

His tongue caught that little place just below your clit that you loved, and with the heat of his mouth around you, you came hard, stomach clenching, sparks dancing in your vision, and wailing in wordless pleasure.

He kept his tongue pressed tight against you, drinking the taste of you down as you came, suckling gently at you until you jerked sharply and begged him to stop.

“Can I come inside you?” he asked as he pulled back.

“I should have asked this before, but I’m assuming we’re good on the whole ‘pregnancy’ front… right?” you asked, voice slurred and mind still spinning.

“My kind are sterile,” he said, his voice neutral. “And we carry no diseases.”

“Oh good. Then yes, you can…” you smiled, and he didn’t waste any time sheathing himself to the hilt inside you in one rapid stroke that had his spine bowing forwards and his fingers snagging on the sheets as he balled them into fists.

“Oh gods,” he whimpered in a broken voice. “You’re so tight.”

“I want you, D…” you whispered, and he began to move.

He started off with a slow rhythm, savouring the feel of your heat as you still occasionally twitched in the aftermath of your release or when the tip of his cock hit that spot inside you, but he soon started to lose himself in the sensations of your body. He grabbed your hips, plunging even deeper inside you, and you let out an earthy groan of pleasure.

“Gods,” he cursed, “You’re so perfect.”

For a while, he seemed perfectly content to rock his hips, moving in and out of you at a punishingly patient pace, but eventually his breathing began to shift and grow more ragged, and his snarling growls grew louder and more frequent. D pushed himself upright on his knees and raised one of your legs up, holding your ankle in place at his collarbone, his fingers gripping the joint while his right hand held your other leg down against the mattress. The new angle caught you deep, and he started that rhythmic growling in earnest, baring his sharp canines in a ghostly snarl of pleasure. The spidery veins of phosphorescence that spread all over his body like living marble pulsed and flared more brightly the closer he got, and as he pistoned in and out of you, breathing ragged, his growls filling the room and making your ears ring, you knew he was close.

Without warning, his hips stuttered and he pushed himself as deep inside you as he could get, spilling into you and filling you so completely you almost felt like crying. He was giving himself to you all over again, and you gazed up at him in his moment of pleasure, savouring the monstrous snarl, the inhuman colouring of his skin, the ghostly green of his head, and the beautiful way in which his muscles bunched and spasmed as he released into you.

Lowering your leg, he slumped forwards over you and laid his head beside yours, kissing your shoulder, before his head lost its opacity and you shivered as the chill of his ghostly form passed right through you. “Sorry,” he slurred, clearly trying to manifest it once again. When he couldn’t, you laughed and held him tightly to you, pulling him close.

“It’s alright,” you giggled. “You’re a dullahan. Revel in being headless for a bit, will you?”

He laughed and gave up, half crushing you with his body, unable to muster the strength to roll off you. His skin was cool against your own. Eventually he withdrew and rolled over onto his back, but not before managing to make his head tangible enough to kiss you.

You fell asleep that night beside him, and when you woke in the morning, he was still there, curled up on his side and facing you this time.

You would have been lying if you’d said it wasn’t a bit of a surprise to wake up next to a naked, chilly, headless body, but once your brain had processed it, you smiled. In sleep, D had not bothered to maintain his ghostly head, and you reached tentatively out for his neck again and ran your fingertips around the ragged, long-healed scars. He jerked the moment your skin touched his, his head flickering back into existence like a kindling flame, and his eyes found yours wide with surprise.

“Sorry,” you murmured. “I didn’t mean to wake you…”

“You startled me,” he smiled. “I’m sorry if I scared you…”

You shook your head. “You made me jump, that’s all.” You inhaled deeply and pushed him so that he rolled like a docile lion onto his back, and you could snuggle up against his chest.

The two of you stayed like that until the sun was well up, and your stomach began rumbling.

“Do dullahan eat?” you asked as you cut a slice of bread and pulled some butter and jam out of the pantry.

D, who was leaning against your small table with his arms casually crossed over his chest, shook his transparent, green head, the ghostly hair swinging down his back in the same way his actual hair did. You loved that long ponytail and the feel of his dark, silky hair. You cleared your throat before you could get too distracted, and grinned as he cocked an eyebrow curiously. The glint in his inhuman eyes told you he knew the nature of your mental tangent…

“Listen,” you said after you’d eaten. “I promised Kravik I’d say goodbye before we left. I want to leave my hut to Will. I know he’s been living at the infirmary while he’s been working there, but I think it’s important that he have somewhere to call his own, you know? Especially after everything he’s been through…” The mayor’s half-goblin son deserved some kindness in his life.

D nodded. “I’ll get Midnight ready, and load up your things into my saddlebags if you like. I’m sorry you aren’t able to take much with you.”

You shrugged. “I’ll wear my little back pack, and that fits most of my essential things in. I’ll get anything else I need as we go along.”

“I’m sorry…” D choked, and you rolled your eyes at him.

“For heaven’s sake,” you grumbled, getting up from your seat and smacking him playfully with the back of your hand on the shoulder as you cleared your breakfast things away. “Stop apologising. I knew this would be a change… it’s fine! Stop fussing…”

He nodded meekly, and you quickly penned a letter for Kravik to give to Will, explaining about the plants in the herb garden at the back, and why you were leaving the little healer’s hut to him. That done, you slipped out into the ripening day, and made your way to the other end of town where Kravik lived. The goodbye was as painful as you’d expected, but he seemed braver about it in the morning light, and maybe even a little excited about starting over somewhere new.

“I have something for you,” he said, tugging you inside his familiar home. He scuttled to a low table and grabbed something, retuning to you with a bashful expression that you weren’t used to seeing on your confident friend’s face. He held out a silver pendant with an engraved handprint on it. The handprint was noticeably not human, with longer fingers and a smaller palm. It was the handprint of a goblin. “I made it last night,” he said shyly. “So you have a piece of me to take with you.”

Tears fogged your vision and you swept him up and hugged him tightly. He wrapped his strong little arms around your neck, dangling from you in an undignified manner that would have made any other goblin deeply uncomfortable. That he was not was an indicator of just how much he cared for you.

“Don’t forget about me,” he whispered in your ear, and you felt your heart crack.

Giving him one final squeeze, you promised him that you’d write when you could, and that you would never, ever forget him. “You mean so much to me, Krav,” you choked. “I’m going to miss you so much, but I promise I’ll come and visit.”

He hitched a lopsided little smile and sniffed. “When do you leave?” he asked.

“Now…” you said, and, on glancing out of the window, you saw D sitting astride Midnight, waiting for you.

“Is he out there?” Kravik asked, and you nodded. “Put me down.”

The little goblin strode to his door and flung it open. “Show yourself, dullahan,” he barked, and, to your surprise, D obeyed. Kravik glared up at him, jabbing his long finger up at him. Midnight shuffled nervously, drawing her head back as if she expected Kravik to chuck something at her. “If you hurt her…” Kravik growled. “If any harm comes to her because of you, I will personally set fire to your horse, skin you alive, and use your head as a football in the Beltane celebrations, do you understand me?”

To your surprise, D swung down from Midnight’s back and sank down onto one knee in front of Kravik in one smooth motion, bowing his head - his physical head, as it happened. “I swear,” the dullahan rasped rasped, “That I will do everything in my power to protect your friend and keep her from harm. I would not allow you to harm my horse, but you may do anything else to me you see fit should I fail.”

Kravik looked almost as stunned as you felt, and he turned awkwardly from D to look up at you. “Well,” he croaked. “That’s… reassuring? I guess?” he laughed. And then he clapped the still-kneeling D on his shoulder hard enough to upset his balance a little, and said, “See to it that she’s happy. That’s all I ask. And that you bring her to visit her old friend once in a while…”

“Whenever she likes,” D said, pushing himself to his feet again. “But know that if I’d had my way, she wouldn’t be leaving at all.”

“She’s a stubborn little thing,” Kravik said, shaking his head as he looked you up and down.

“That she is,” D said with feeling.

You looked from one to the other of them and set your hands comically on your hips. “Well, I’m glad the two of you can agree on that, at least.”

You gave Kravik one last hug, and got D to put his necklace around your neck where it glinted in the sunlight.

“Take care,” the goblin offered as he watched D swing up into the saddle and pull you up behind him. As he did so, he let a glamour settle in place over him so that his skin warmed to a tan brown, instead of its usual slate grey, and the pulsing green lines faded almost to nothing so that unless someone looked really hard, he looked like an ordinary human. You knew, however, that underneath he was anything but ordinary.

“We will,” you promised. “And you too.”

As you closed your arms around D’s waist and he nudged Midnight into a trot and then an easy, comfortable canter, you hugged him tightly and tried not to look back.

Your new life lay ahead of you, and you had no idea what it would bring. One thing was certain, though: if you ever met Tenacity again - which you were almost certain you would - you were going to give her the sharp side of your tongue for letting you think that D had not survived his injuries. You found yourself chuckling at the thought, and D glanced back over his shoulder at you and shot you a questioning look.

“I’m just thinking that when we see Ten next, I’m going to give her as much of a talking to as Kravik just gave you.”

D’s warm laugh rippled out of him and you hugged him tighter for a moment. “Oh boy… she’s in trouble…” he chuckled. A moment later he added, “I love you.”

“Will you defend me against her?” you asked, aiming for lighthearted silliness until the sincerity of his response hit you in the chest like a club swung by a minotaur.

“And everything else,” he said. “Always.”

You had no words for that, and clung to him as he gave Midnight her head and let the night-dark mare gallop along the sandy track, following the same calling that drove him on from place to place to right wrongs and deal out the justice after which he had been renamed.

And you would remain right there beside him through all of it.

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As ever, I would love to hear what you thought of it, and now that we're at the end of this 46,688 word (!) story, I'd like to thank you for getting involved with the voting, and to thank my patrons for choosing D in the first place! I did this story as a 'thank you' to my 3000 followers on Tumblr, and it wouldn't have been the story it is without everyone’s support. So yeah. Thank you. *blushes and wibbles and sees self out*

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[homesteadchronicles]

Ten Songs Tag

You know I’m only doing this because you of all people tagged me in this, @lady-redshield-writes​. If it ain’t writing related, I don’t ordinarily do these...but for a friend? And a musical friend at that? Anything. Now you can get a glimpse into the world’s most eclectic music taste!

Rules: Put your entire musical library on shuffle and then list the first ten songs that play. Tag ten people to keep the game going!

1. Delilah (Florence + the Machine)

Florence is the biggest enigma to me. I’m not a fan of her personally, and she’s got all sorts of pitch issues live, but her music is just? so?? good??? Delilah, specifically, evokes such vivid images in my mind that I cannot help but want to dance around whenever it comes on. I guess, in that sense, Florence herself becomes Delilah. 

I’ll let you in on a little secret: this may or may not have inspired a certain scene in Kingdom Come ;)

2. Never Enough (The Greatest Showman)

I have never been so captivated listening to a theatrical song. I’m not even certain I breathed until it had finished! The song struck such a deep chord within me that I actually cried. The last time I cried in a movie? Bridge to Terabithia an entire ten years before. This song has haunted me ever since. It would have weighed down my heart, had I not known I do not need to be enough as a human. And when I start believing the lie that I need to perfect, and this song surfaces once more in my mind, I remind myself that it is not a war I can win, nor do I need to.

3. Fullness (Acoustic) [Elevation Worship]

Y’all knew that I would have to throw in some worship songs on here sooner or later. It would’ve been a veritable miracle had one not come up on shuffle, with how much space they take up in my music library. Elevation has been killing the game lately. Every album they make takes it to the next level, and they never disappoint - even acoustically! My mom and I listened to this entire album on the flight back from our last trip to Disney, when turbulence overtook the plane, and it brought us such inexplicable peace. I listen to this all the time when I need to calm my mind or realign my priorities or simply be surrounded by praise

4. New Rules (Dua Lipa)

If you haven’t listened to this song, I’m not sure what you’re doing with your life. Girl’s got rhythm, rhymes and the mix of an angel. It’s funny that, every time I go to Disney, there’s a whopping three song playlist that gets repeated in the rental car because we never know the stations down in Florida. Normally, they suck (sorry Selena) and I hate them within a day, let alone a week. I discovered this gem on my last trip and blasted it every single day on a loop - and I’m still obsessed with it. I think I was so genuinely surprised to find a song where someone’s almost telling you off for staying in a clearly-toxic relationship that I fell in love with it without realizing.

5. The Soldier (Lacey Sturm)

Lacey Sturm and her former band, Flyleaf, have made such a massive impact on my life, both as an artist and as a Christian, that I cannot even express my adoration for her. Girl’s got pipes, can scream the house down, and write these anthems that none can match. This song has fueled me so many times during creative sessions. The power of the lyrics, the grit of the beat, the conviction in her voice - it combines to form this musical masterpiece that makes you believe you could take on an entire army & win.

6. Trainwreck (James Arthur)

Hoo boy. Don’t get me started on this one. James Arthur is my favorite male artist of all time. His story resonates so deeply with me, and the way he portrays it through music is unparalleled. Besides, those runs? Gurl. I can’t. I’ve never heard another song so accurately portray what it’s like to hit rock bottom, and where you go from there. It’s raw, it’s real, it’s desperate. It’s on my top ten songs to perform one day, should I have the chance.

7. Out There (Hunchback of Notre Dame)

It’s no secret how obsessed I am with Disney, and this musical masterpiece tops the list. Seriously, if you have not watched Hunchback, you are missing out on the most underrated musical of all time. The soundtrack is captivating in every sense, the lyrics are ridiculously profound, and the characters each have a moment to shine in their own respect. No song does it for me like this one. The back-and-forth between Frollo and Quasi? Done.

8. What Now (Nor’easters O.P.B. Rihanna)

YOU GUYS! If you have not heard of the Nor’easters yet, and/or you’re an a cappella nerd (or Pitch Perfect fan) like me, you need to check this group out. Every sololist is as insanely talented as the next, and their sound as a group is unparalleled. This, Jaywalk, Alive, Sorry and Writing’s on the Wall are all phenomenal covers that deserve a listen...or two...or ten...thousand.

9. Healing the Great Fairy (Theophany)

It’s no secret that I love me some good instrumental music. If it’s not worship music that I listen to whilst creating in any capacity, it’s instrumental music - namely, game music (although, some friends of mine - Lady Red included - have helped me get into classical music without even realizing). As Majora’s Mask has always held a special place in my heart, this only added fuel to the fire that is my passion for the series and it’s breathtaking music. Theophany is a mastermind of music. Listen to the first album - it will blow you away.

10. Hold Me Tight or Don’t (White Panda Remix) [Fall Out Boy]

Okay, so, confession: I’m a BIG pop-punk fan. Don’t hate: I grew up when hating your parents and going to skateparks and singing like a whining child was the hip thing to do. Fall Out Boy makes up one-third of my musical holy trinity, alongside of Paramore and Panic! at the Disco. While Mania was hit-or-miss for me, album-wise, this song always stuck out to me...except for the vocals. He sounded almost off-key at times. This remix, however, helps fix that AND makes it feel like a rock anthem at the same time. Incredible. 10/10 would jam out again.

BONUS: Dressed in Black (Sia)

Remember that time I recored eleven songs on shuffle before realizing I lacked basic counting skills and the ability to follow directions? Good times. But in all seriousness, thank goodness I did, because this song is so special to me. I find myself in the subject of this song - dressed in black, hiding in the back, looking for someone to love me. And I found that love, and for once, I let color back in my life. Ironically, my wardrobe has become much more colorful lately - funny how that happens, huh?

Tagging: Whoever would like to join in on the fun! I won’t drag anyone into non-writing-related tag games, don’t worry. But next time, when it’s all about writing? Ya better look out, y’all!

[ao-anonymousobsesser]

So I'm writing a VLD fic

@comfortably-chaotic-mind I'm tagging you bc you know this fic and I'm sure you'll want to hear this lol plus this is kind of a funny story...sorry for the long post though

Everybody else, I'm very very very sorry you have to put up with this but I'm really upset about this right now so I gotta get this out

Basically, Keith's dad was super close with the latest Admiral of the Galaxy Garrison. Like I'm not sure what happened with them (maybe graduated together?? or the admiral taught him some life lesson??? idk) but Kogane trusts Dos Santos with his LIFE okay

And he basically says that Dos Santos is Keith's godfather in his will

So when Kogane dies...Dos Santos shows up and is like bitch u ain't takin this boi to the home

So Keith becomes like the housecat-ghostboy-orphan of the Galaxy Garrison. He likes sitting with the old people, climbing in the rafters, and sneaking around to scare the shot out of the cadets.

He's also an avid reader. (A personal headcanon of mine but blown up to a massive proportion.)

Like I mean this boy eats books for breakfast lunch and dinner. If he's awake, he's reading. He listens to audio books to fall asleep half the time (the other half of the time he's blasting Disturbed or FOB or something edgy like that).

This boy has read every book that could even VAGUELY be considered interesting.

Okay, let me just tell you:

The average school library has a ratio of between 10 and 20 books per student.

Let's say the Garrison has 5000 students (just larger than West Points cadet count) and their ratio is small at 10. That's 50000 books in the library.

Probably 10000 are extra copies or second/third/twelfth editions of the same books (going by the ratio of 1/5 that my school had). That's still 40000.

I'm gonna be nice and say that 500 are reference books, another 500 are random (small, informational or entertaining, don't fit a special category), 25000 are nonfiction, and 14000 are nonfiction.

Keith is almost 13 at this point in the story.

As an avid reader myself, I started reading at four. Keith started at five in the story.

I was six when I read my first 200pager. So was Keith.

So let's say he started on the smallest books in the Garrison at age 5. That's 500 in a year. About a book and a half a day.

Boom. Down to 35500 books in the library.

(As we all know, I hope, the library will rotate books, causing the number to fluctuate a bit. But let's say for the sake of math that it stays this way)

His dad already gets supplies from the Garrison (because he lives on Garrison property shhh it makes sense) so he starts asking for more books because Keith is just eating them up.

So the countdown to 15000 starts.

This is where I should explain that I literally lived down the road from a small town library until I was ten years old. I know what it's like to have access to books. I went to the library with my uncle every saturday afternoon. The librarian knew my name and used to come to my soccer games when he could. He was my best friend.

I remember when I was about seven I started getting frustrated because I would go through all my books in the first few days of the week and then be out until Saturday. I started taking my bookbag with me. I made my uncle (in his teens) take one, too. We crammed anywhere from thirty to sixty books into those bags and carried more with us.

The only reason we got away with it (because there was a 20 book limit) was because we had six library cards between the three of us--i had mine and my mom's, my uncle had his, his best friends, and my grandma's, and the library dude was nice enough to lend us his if we needed it.

So yeah. On a good week, I got about seventy books. That's ten books a day.

(I should explain that I still went to school. I went to public school with plenty of kids who hated reading enough for all of us. I had teachers who either insisted I was some kind of genius--i wasnt--or banished me to the hallway for reading Jane Austen during reading time when they specifically said to pick something at the class reading level. I know this life. It's kinda sucky.)

So yeah. Ten books a day, seven days a week, for fifty-two weeks. I got through the entire small-town library (4000 books) in just over a year.

Yes, I even read the reference books. Yes, I had to ask for help with some of the more sophisticated books in the library. (Yes, I skipped a few of the research books. I was eight. Sue me.)

What I'm saying is that it is realistic for me to have Keith reading 5 or 6 thousand books a year for eight years, because in this story he has LITERALLY NOTHING ELSE TO DO.

His dad homeschools him without schooling him at all (unschooling, look it up on wikipedia--yes I know it probably doesn't work like that, but it's my AU and I do what I want). Then his dad dies when he's just over eight and he's alone in the house for a year. Just books to keep him company.

Then (after meeting Sam Holt) he starts trekking out to the Garrison, creeping around the halls and camping out in the library when he feels like it.

He makes friends with the campus librarian. Professors give him books for his birthday. At twelve, he got Sam and Dos Santos to help him build a room onto the old shack so his books weren't just lying wherever in the house. The room has twelve bookcases (three on each wall) each with five shelves (60 shelves total) and full of books (about 2000 books total, give or take).

He doesn't socialize a lot (he's still Keith) but it's not that he doesn't want to. It's just that he's awkward (he's still KEITH). If people would stick around for a while (more than ten minutes), he's actually really cool and funny, even if he's a little defensive/shorttempered/oblivious/clueless.

(Just because you're smart and read a lot doesn't mean you understand everything. Just because you know how to make jokes doesn't mean you always catch them or that you understand idioms or innuendos or anything that isn't straight talk.)

His jokes are literature based. He uses sarcasm a lot even though half the time it comes out wrong. He identifies with both Darcy and Elizabeth on a spiritual level.

He has a room at Dos Santos' that has a bookcase full of composition notebooks, themselves full of notes on all the books he's read, little doodles of scenes he really likes, and jokey little summaries of long reference passages.

He's a nerd who never had to learn how to socialize with real people. He LIKES people. He's not a robot, and he doesn't automatically hate you on sight.

He's just been through a lot in his life, and he's still just a lonely little kid.

Anyway. Keith reads about twenty fiction/short books some days, four longer reference/textbook books other days. It varies. It took him six hours to get through Under the Dome, and there was one time he read eleven aeronautics manuals in eight hours and then passed out for fourteen, but mostly he takes longer for reference books/textbooks than fiction books/memoirs.

Also he's read the dictionary/thesaurus like forty times by the time he's thirteen and he shows ZERO sign of stopping. It's basically a religion at this point.

So let me break this down again:

Garrison library has 50,000 books. Minus 10,000 because they're copies/lame editions. That's 40,000 books.

1000 are reference books or random (small, informational or entertaining, don't fit a special category) books, 25000 are nonfiction/memoir/diagram based/school or lesson based, and 14000 are nonfiction.

Keith starts reading at five. His first five hundred are done when he's six--he starts on the next five hundred and finishes within months. His dad starts asking for larger shipments.

By the time Keith is seven, he's read 2000 books.

We're down to 38,000 books in the Garrison library.

Between seven and eight, he reads another 3000. Down to 35,000 books in the Garrison library.

A couple months later (500 books down, 34,500 to go) his dad dies. He's alone in the house for 10 months, only books to keep him company.

He reads another 4,000 books in this time. By the time he turns nine, he's reading at a high school level. 30,500 to go.

Sam visit on his ninth birthday. He brings more books, invites him to visit the Garrison sometime. The librarian could use some company.

Keith does.

By the time he's ten, he's read another 6,500 books. It's a really good year. 24,000 to go.

Age 10-11: 6,000 books. 18,000 to go.

Age 11-12: 5,750 books.12,250 to go

He's turning 13 in a few weeks. This year he has so far read 5,375 books. He wants to hit 5500 again. For the five year anniversary.

It's not a good year. He's not feeling great. He starts talking to Matt more than he used to. Matt pushes him a little. He says he can do it. Keith believes him. He's never lied to him before.

(That Keith knows of. What goes to his benefit is unnecessary knowledge for him.)

He hits 5,500. 6,750 to go.

This is where I am now.

Now by all accounts, there are a few notes I should make.

There is a portion of books at Keith's home that he has not read. They are books the librarian gave him because she knew he hadn't read them before they were getting rotated out for a new shipment. This is probably 500 books.

That makes the total 7,250.

Less than ten thousand.

He has read 33,250 books in eight years (ages 5 to 13). Average: 4156.25 books per year, 11.3 books per day.

I'm almost twenty and I read 55,383 books between the ages of 4 and 18 (between the first book I read at home and the last book I read before my graduation ceremony). Average: 3955.93~ books per year, 10.8 books per day.

I didn't have a lot of friends. I was bffs with every librarian I met/had. In 10th grade world history we had to give one cool/weird fact in an introductory assignment and I told them I had read every book in the school library. No one believed me. I told them I could prove it. She said go ahead.

"I have read every book in the school library. The librarian can vouch for me. They have not rotated their books since I was in eighth grade. My grandmother works here, so I know. There are exactly 17,488 books in the library, not including extra copies or "editions" like all they did was change two sentences in the intro that's hardly new information. But whatever. I started reading that year. I made a list of every book i read that year. There were 3272. That's 14216 to go--all of which were in the fiction and nonfiction sections. My grandmother checked them out. If you go into her records from that year and take that list and add it to my list from last year in 9th grade, you'll see that I read every single book. I started with the reference section that year and then went to the manga, then the nonfiction, then the historical fiction, then the fantasy fiction. I had already read most of the books in the fiction section. 6,791 out of 7,918 to be exact. That's 7425 to go. I'd also read 3577 if the 6298 nonfiction books. That's 3848 to go. Over the course of the last school year, which lasted exactly 42 weeks, I checked out 30 books every Monday and 50 books every Thursday. That's eighty books every week. Times 42, that's 3360. 488 left. I hung out with my grandmother while she worked over the summer. I kept my reading up, only for the first half. By the end of July--the 29th--I had read the rest. That's nine books a day every day. Don't believe me? Ask the librarian."

So the teacher did.

She put the librarian on speakerphone.

The librarian went on a full ten minute rant about how ridiculously difficult it was checking out fifty books at a time.

My history teacher wouldn't come within 2ft of my desk until after holiday break, and she didn't go into the library at all that year.

Moral of the story: IT IS TOTALLY LOGICAL/ACCEPTABLE THAT I HAVE KEITH READING OVER 30,000 BOOKS IN EIGHT YEARS IN THIS FIC OKAY PLEASE DON'T COME AT ME OVER THIS

[digimonnetwork-project]

Episode VII

Masato’s Stand

Previous Episode

What got the group more than anything was the silence.

Equimon led the way, following coordinates he had gotten from a deep cover contact to where the auction was supposed to take place. Masato kept close to him, but was staying silent, which was surprising, Aki was afraid that Masato would start bugging Equimon about being his partner and accidentally alert the auction that they were there. It actually surprised him, Masato genuinely seemed to think that saving the children was more important than getting a partner. Never would have guessed from his behavior over the last couple of days.

Isamu and Wemicmon stayed behind them, glancing every direction every few steps. Isamu had his goggles on and was keeping a lookout for strange Digimon. Occasionally he would stop and tense up, but continue on his way. Lutrimon assured Aki that he was probably picking up data from wild Digimon that wouldn’t bother them. Lutrimon stayed on his shoulder, and Ju walked beside him. Her partners never stayed in the same place though, sometimes they were running up ahead and sometimes trailing behind.

Aki kept his eyes on their surroundings, remaining in awe of the landscape even though they had been walking for nearly an hour. The Digital World didn’t seem that much different for their own, it had trees, rocks, roads, and structures that he supposed were bridges of some kind. A light fog made it difficult to see more than about fifteen feet in any direction, but that was hardly a problem.  Occasionally, a bit of data would chip off a plant or one of the structures to remind Aki that this was the Digital World, but nothing was jumping out at them so he was starting to relax a bit.

It was kind of spooky, but not a deal breaker for the world. Something about the Digiital World had an eerie, dream like quality to it. It almost felt like he had been there before.

The sky was dark, and the roads were a bit on the shambled side, but all in all it didn’t seem too bad. What were the Digimon making such a fuss about?

He glanced over to Ju, and saw a concerned look on her face, “What’s wrong?” He asked.

She nodded to the ground, “The roads...” She mumbled, “The roads weren’t this bad the last time I was here. And those bridges, some of them look like they’ll fall apart any minute.”

“They look like they’re ancient.” Aki replied, with a shrug “They’re bound to be a little crumbly.”

Ju shook her head, “Look again...see those burn marks there? Something definitely blasted that bridge. And the fog...I don’t know, there just something about it that doesn’t feel right,” She said, and stopped for a moment, making Aki pause, “Listen, Aki, I don’t want to scare you, but I’m not going to lie...The Digital World is faring way worse than I imagined.”

Aki wanted to argue, to say that it was probably her imagination and that this seemed pretty normal, but then again, Ju had been to the Digital World before. He hadn’t. Who was he to judge? On his shoulder, Lutrimon leaned closer, “She’s right, I haven’t been away that long and there’s way more damage than even I was expecting...This war is getting really out of hand.”

There they went mentioning a war again, Aki wanted to stomp his foot and scream until someone finally explained all the details to him. But that would be stupid. Especially since the group ahead of them had come to a stop, which could only mean one thing.

They had arrived.

--

Back in the Network, Liv was sitting at a table in one of the many food courts, The emptiness of the city had her on edge, but she was also feeling pretty tired from being awake at a time that was so late for her...or Early, depending on how you looked at it. She rested her hands in her palms, eyes closed, maybe if she just tuned out all her thoughts she could fall asleep right here and get a little rest before she went back to the coliseum. There ought to be plenty of Bugs to clear out after that attack...

Faces flashed under her eyelids. Kids, no more than ten, maybe eleven. A whole busload of them...She’d thought nothing in the world could be more important than rescuing those kids...they were his age, after all. She opened her eyes with a gasp, and slapped her cheeks to wake herself up. No, she couldn’t think about those sorts of things.

Scorfamon trotted up and bumped her knee with his snout. “Andromon is waiting at the gate.” He said, looking up at her with pleading eyes, “Those guys from before won’t make it on their own...We’re not really going to sit this one out, are we?”

Liv looked away from him, “I don’t...I just...Can’t...” A terrible knot settled in her stomach, pressing in like a weight that made her sick.

Her partner’s head rubbed against her hand and he nuzzled her lovingly, “Livvie...remember what we used to say when we used to go out? What if it was Sammie...?” He asked, and seemed to hesitate for a moment before deciding it was alright to continue, “What if it was Dan?”

Tears bubbled in her eyes, and she pictured their faces...One boy’s face came to mind, a soft bright smile that she could never stay mad at, no matter how much of a brat he could be. Liv turned and started to run toward the gate to the Digital World, Scorfamon was quick to join her with a determined grunt.

She knew what needed to be done.

--

Things spiraled out of control faster than expected.

The plan was supposed to be for the Digimon to pose as customers and keep the Auctioneers busy with questions and pointless chatter. Equimon’s team leader, Andromon would be there shortly to handle the heavy fighting while the Tamers and their partners saved the children and got them out. Tamers were an essential part of the rescue, children didn’t know which Digimon to trust, but they tended to follow other humans with no questions.

It was unfortunate that one of Wemicmon’s distracting comments started a fight. To be fair, none of their partners looked comfortable discussing how to pay for a human and how much, but when Wemicmon stood up to say that a bond with a human was special, a Digimon called Clockmon hit him with a hammer to shut him up. One thing led to another, the twins and Lutrimon both came to his defense, starting a bigger fight and eventually blowing their cover by revealing that they had partners.

That was when all hell really did break loose. Isamu, Ju and Aki were forced onto the battlefield to support their partners with their, regrettably, limited amount of items. Masato was left as the only human to be there to be a comforting presence for the children. He prayed that Andromon would show up soon.

Okay, so maybe that chick from the Network was right, they were in no way prepared for this, but by god, Masato was not just going to give up.

“Come on!” He growled, yanking as hard on the door as he could, but it still didn’t budge. No amount of American action movies had prepared him for a situation like this.

The kids were being kept in barred carriages, five in total, with eight to ten crying kids in each, it was like the kids had been picked up from a field trip. Briefly, Masato wondered if there had been any adults with them when they were taken, and if so, what had happened to them now? An explosion rocked the ground, almost making him fall to his knees, but Masato steadied himself and tried to open the door again. He dared not look behind him to see if that last blast was from one of the baddies or his friends.

Things didn’t sound good either way.

The leader was a Digimon that Isamu had called SkullMeramon, one of those Ultimate levels the blonde girl had mentioned. He was the strongest, and all he had done since they’d attacked was laugh at them. The Bakemon, like the one he’d talked to at the Network, were little more than grunts but they were still a problem. There were a few other Digimon there, a mix of guards and customers that were fighting to protect the merchandise.

“Out of the way.” The voice belonged to Equimon, the two of them were setting the children free while Masato’s friends were doing all the fighting. From the looks of things, Equimon was doing most of the freeing too. Four of the carriages were already open with the freed kids flocking toward the older human.

Equimon hit the door with the Bo in his hand and the knob broke off, letting the door swing open. Kids came rushing out. Now for the tough part, getting them back to the Network safely. According to Ju, the Digital Gate they’d opened to get here would reopen once someone with a D-Gauntlet came up to it. Masato didn’t have a D-Gauntlet, they would have to wait for the others, or at least one of them.

But there really wasn’t time to wait, eventually one of those Baddies was going to turn around and notice that he and Equimon had freed their merchandise. The kids whimpered and turned to Masato.

“What do we do?” One of them asked, a little girl with freckles and a stubby nose, looking at him like she expected him to know exactly what he was doing.

Never in his life had Masato felt like such a fraud.

“It’ll be okay.” He told them and looked at the group, at a guess there had to have been at least thirty of them, and he didn’t know if he could save even one of them.

Still, he had to act like he knew what he was doing. Masato imagined himself in place of one of the teen protagonists from his favorite films and took a breath. After a moment, he had a plan, not a very good one, but it was better than nothing.

He nodded to the forest, “Find a buddy and hold hands. We’re going to head for those trees there. Get in line, two people at a time, on my mark...” He instructed, trying to sound as calm and authoritative as possible.

Masato turned to the battle, waiting for a moment when someone’s attack would mask the sound of him shouting to the children. Wemicmon had Digivolved, the twins were tag teaming with Lutrimon, trying up enemies three or four at a time, while she knocked them out with high pressure streams.

“Inferno Bane!” Namaemon cried, unleashing a breath of fire that charged a few of the Bakemon.

Skullmeramon unleashed a flame attack that completely engulfed Namaemon’s technique. “Metal fireball!”

“Alright go!....Go!...Go!” He timed it so that no pair left until the one ahead was halfway to the trees. The fog was getting denser, which was good for their escape but it was making it harder for Masato to keep an eye on them.

“Neptune Rush!” Lutrimon’s water technique caused Skullmeramon to take a step back, taking a moment to reignite his flaming chain before he turned on her.

She was small and fast so his assault did not last long before he was distracted by Cannismon and Leptomon’s Eclipse Snare. Usually the technique could buy the twins some time, but Skullmeramon broke through it like it was nothing.

“Blazing Iron Whip” He lashed out with the chain, aiming to catch one of them, but Namaemon stepped between them and took the hit.

Half the kids were gone when someone finally noticed them, a weird creature that looked like a Scarecrow. It wasn’t big, and Masato was certain it was one of the ones that was trying to buy a child, not sell them.

“Hey, you stop!” The creature rushed toward them, the kids screamed and started to bolt, drawing the attention of the bigger monsters.

“No! Stop them!”

The scarecrow was almost on one of the little girls attempting to flee into the woods, Masato only had seconds to act. He dived forward, tackling the kid to the ground and shielding her with his body’ only just noticing that she was the one who had spoken to him before.

She screamed and clung to Masato, who had no idea what to do to save either of them when Equimon leaped between them, the ends of his staff began to glow.

“Dreamer Wave!” he shouted, brandishing the staff and unleashing a swell of purple energy and blew the Scarecrow back.

Masato was impressed but Equimon turned to Masato, “That won’t hold them off, get the kids out of here, I’ll cover you!”

“How!?” Masato asked, “The guys back there aren’t doing much better and two of them are Champions!”

“A little time is all you need, if I can buy you that much that’s all that matters!” Equimon replied, “Now go!”

Masato stood up and carried the girl as he ran to the tree line. He counted each kid when he arrived,  thirty four in total, and turned back to the battle. “Equimon, we made it!” He shouted, but the horse-like Digimon didn’t even turn around.

That was when Masato realized he wasn’t coming. Equimon was going to buy them as much time as he could, even if it meant sacrificing his life. The child he was carrying tugged on Masato’s shirt, “Whadda we do now, mister?” She asked again.

Masato was torn, in his heart he knew he should try to lead the kids back to the Digital Gate, maybe if he pounded on it and shouted and screamed someone on the other side would notice and let them back through. But he also couldn’t let Equimon get killed for them. He tore his eyes from the battle and set the little girl down, they needed his help more than Equimon did. “We’re going to-”

“-Heavy Metal Fire!”

“Harmonious Barrier!”

The human turned his head to see a shield appear around Equimon just in time to spare him the full force of the blast that came his way. But the attack of an Ultimate level Digimon was far too strong for a Rookie to completely protect themselves from. The Barrier broke, and the smaller Digimon was blown back toward the trees.

“Equimon!” Masato ran out from the trees toward the fallen hero.

“Masato...?” Equimon tried to stand, but stumbled, Masato had to catch him. “Get out of here!”

“Come with me!” Masato begged, “We can get to the Network and somebody will have one of those Digimeds to fix you right up. You can make it out of this too!”

“Masato, watch out!” The warning came from Lutrimon, “Sea Pulse!”

The otter Digimon’s water attacks were the most effective against the larger Digimon, but not enough. It slowed Skullmeramon down enough for Masato to haul Equimon up and run.

He didn’t go for the trees though, Skullmeramon knew where he was now, he couldn’t lead him to the children.

“Put me down, I can hold him off!”Equimon said, “You need to lead those kids to safety.”

“There is no safety!” Masato replied, “We’re not going to make it without someone to open the gate, and if we can’t get someone to open the gate then we can at least hold them off together!”

All Masato could think about was luring the bad Digimon away from the kidnapped children, if he could buy the others enough time to pick them up and get them to the gate then maybe they stood a chance at saving somebody! Masato almost didn’t notice the glow on his wrist, but he was shocked to a stop when he did. The light faded and a purple glove was on his hand, complete with a beeping watch.

“A D-Gauntlet...?” He gasped.

“I...Feel strange...”Equimon said as he started to glow too. Before Masato could react, suddenly the Digimon was changing, “Equimon Digivolve to...Destriemon!”

Next thing Masato knew he was riding a very large, armored horse. Well, a horse-like creature, his ears were large flaps, and rather than hooves, Destriemon had white paws with long claws. Masato dug his hands into a thick pale mane to keep from falling as the freshly evolved Destriemon tested his new form by taking off into a gallop that put far more distance between them and Skullmeramon, and the children too.

“Man...what did I do!?” Masato asked.

“You helped me evolve!” Destriemon replied, “We’re partners now!”

“Yeah, I got that much, but how did I make you evolve so quickly?”

“I think I’d save questions like that until after we’ve survived!” Destriemon told him as he circled back toward the others. The Digimon looking to buy had decided that this was not worth their money and were starting to make a break for it, but the Bakemon and Skullmeramon remained.

“What do you think the odds are that we can win this?” Masato shouted to Ju from atop Destriemon’s back.

Her mouth opened and closed a few times, plainly in shock at his ability to get Destriemon to evolve so quickly, but perhaps she shouldn’t complain. “I...I don’t know, Strong Ultimates have been known to battle up to ten champions with no trouble.”

“So you’re saying even with Equimon’s help, we’re still outmatched?” Aki gaped, everyone looked at Isamu as if he would have some miracle solution for them.

And he sort of did, Isamu started to turn as his goggles were picking up a series of new signals, “Something’s coming, I think it’s Andromon!”

“Lightning blade!” The attack that knocked Skullmeramon off his feet proved that Isamu ws right, but Andromon was not the only one who arrived.

“Head’s up newbies! Here comes the Cavalry!” Everyone turned in amazement to see a large group of Digimon heading their way.

“It’s Olivia and Taivenmon!” Isamu shouted and waved them down, despite that she could obviously see them. The party split up, chasing Bakemon and surrounding Skullmeramon. Isamu wiped his goggles, like he was trying to clear a smudge “Andromon, Jewelbeemon, Mummymon,Vermillimon, Blossomon- these are all Ultimate level Digimon.” He observed.

“Gotta have the right company if you’re going to be out here.” Liv replied, patting Taivenmon’s side, riding upon him the same way that Masato rode Destriemon. She noted the purple D-Gauntlet on his hand and gave him a quick nod of acknowledgement, “Where are the kids?” She asked.

“The forest.” Masato replied, nodding to the treeline, but found it invisible through the fog when he looked. “That way.”

“Right. You and I are gonna lead the kids back to the Network, the rest of you cover us.” She said.

Isamu put his hands on his hips, “Hold up, who died and put you in charge?” Masato recognized the joke in the other boy’s tone, but Olivia clearly didn’t and glared at him.

“The senior party buck-o” Taivenmon replied with a snort, “Don’t like it you can put ‘em up and come at me.”

“Not now, Taivenmon.” Olivia told him, patting his side again, “Okay, newbie, with me, now.”

“It’s Masato. And your name’s Olivia- was it?” Masato introduced himself, as he led her toward where the children were hiding.

“Just Liv.” She said, guiding her boar-like partner after them.

Masato called out, knowing the children would recognize his voice, “Come out, we’re going to get you somewhere that’s safe.” He said.

Liv pulled up beside him, “I’ll guard the front end, he’ll cover the rear.” She instructed, “You stay between us and we’ll make sure you get to the Network.”

“Get where?” A kid asked.

“You’re not going anywh-” The voice belonged to a Bakemon, but he was cut off by Taivenmon whirling around and driving his tusks forward to catch the ghost Digimon and throw him away from the children. No special attack required.

Liv didn’t even have a hair out of place when it was over and her partner turned back around, “No time to explain, get a move on it!”

There were no further questions, aside from Masato’s “Why do you get to lead?” Liv simply glared at him and Taivenmon snorted as he galloped ahead.

Destriemon answered for them, “She has more experience with this, she probably knows what sort of dangers to watch out for on the way back.”

Masato frowned, “I’m sure she does, but she doesn’t have to be so cold.”

“She must have a reason.” Destriemon continued, “I’ve heard stories about her. No one just has a personality switch like that, there must have been some kind of trigger. And I bet one of these auction Raids has something to do with it.”

That really hadn’t occurred to Masato and he contemplated that while the kids wandered out from the trees to follow Liv. Perhaps she’d lost a friend on a raid once-well maybe no, she certainly acted as if she’d lost friends during these raids before, one more wouldn’t be that traumatic. Still, Masato had a feeling like he was close, she lost something...The kids came out and went forward in pairs, the same buddies they’d picked when Masato and Equimon had first sprung them. He counted them to be sure, two, four six, eight...

Thirty four in total, that was all of them. Destriemon trotted behind the group while Masato kept an eye over his shoulder to look out for danger. Occasionally Destriemon would stop, Masato turned to him to see his ears swiveling, listening for something but then moving on. Probably the wild Digimon that Isamu had analyzed earlier, but better keep their guard up anyway.

The trip back to the gate they’d opened seemed to take twice as long but Liv beckoned him over.

“This is how you open the gate back to the Network.” She said, pressing a few buttons on her D-Guantlet, and lifting her wrist so he could see which ones. As if she expected him to be able to remember.

“The gate can transport ten at a time.” Liv instructed, hopping down from Taivenmon to separate the frightened children into groups, “Any more than that and you could overload the system. It doesn’t take more than a couple of seconds, but wait until I give you the signal. Once you’re through you’ll see more monsters, but they’re friends like these guys here, so don’t panic. Wait for me and Masato on the other side and don’t wander off until we get there. Alright?”

Liv’s tone was far more gentle when she was speaking to the kids. Her calm but firm presence seemed to put them all at ease and they nodded in understanding. The American girl told the first group to go, they passed through the distortion and the gate flashed for a few seconds, then she gave the clear for the second group. Once more the gate flashed a few times and Liv ordered the third group to go.

Only four children left.

Liv turned to Masato, “Call your friends, tell them we have all the kids safe and they can come back now.”

He blinked at her, “How do I do that?”

She reached over and hit the top right button on his D-Gauntlet twice, an input line appeared on the screen. “Hit the left bottom button to change the number and the bottom right to move to the next digit.” She said, “Put in one of their IDs, they’ll tell the others.” Masato didn’t move and still looked lost, Liv put her hands on her hips, “You haven’t swapped IDs with any of them!?” She hissed.

Masato frowned, offended by her tone. “Hey, Equimon and I have only been partners for about fifteen minutes!”

“Fine, we’ll just have to go get them.” Liv said, and turned back to the four children that were still waiting for her signal, “Remember what I said; don’t go anywhere until Masato and I come to get you. Go, now.”

She waited until they were through and then climbed back on to Taivenmon and patted his side to command him to hurry. Masato did the same, but Destriemon didn’t understand the signal so the human had to tell him to just keep up with Liv and Taivenmon. At their top speed, the four of them were back in only moments.

Just in time it seemed, Ju had drawn her partners back, tending to the white one with a Digicure as Namaemon attempted to knock Lutrimon free from Skullmeramon’s grasp. Liv’s friends had the Auction boss surrounded, but none dared attack while he had a hostage.

“Lutrimon!” Aki cried, frantically fiddling with his D-Gauntlet, trying to unlock some kind of power up for her. But this was Aki’s first trip to the Network, the only items he had were his hub prize and the Rainbow Plate they’d won from the Betamon that had attacked him. Neither of those did Lutrimon any good at the moment.

Someone else did, though.

“Hey Goldilocks, catch!” Liv lifted her D-Guantlet as an item appeared from it’s storage. She tossed it to Aki who blinked in confusion for a moment, before Liv gave an annoyed huff an explained, “Scan the item into your D-Gauntlet and use it to save your partner!”

Aki looked over at Ju, who nodded at him, “Top left button to scan, hit it twice to activate it.”

Aki did exactly that, light exploded from Skullmeramon’s hand,  a shield of pure energy surrounded Lutrimon, making the bigger Digimon unable to hold her any longer. Lutrimon was quick to leap to the ground and run toward the other Digimon. With her safely out of the way, every remaining Raiders moved into an offensive position.

“Ready to surrender?” Liv asked, “Or is this going to have to get really ugly?”

Skullmeramon didn’t appear to be the brightest candle, but he certainly seemed to know when he was beaten and allowed Andromon to put restraints on him. The Raiders all gave their thanks to the new team of Tamers for all the work they’d done to rescue the children and wished them well, but parted ways with them; taking Skullmeramon deeper into the Digital World while the Tamers returned to the Network.

Even Liv had to give them her compliments, as they made their way back to the Network together. Destriemon and Taivenmon only had room for one human on each of them, so Namaemon took the burden of carrying Ju and Aki on his shoulders while holding Isamu in his arms. It was not a comfortable ride, but Isamu didn’t dare complain when Ju fought to keep balance and try to get hold of both her partners still so they didn’t fall off.

“Not bad for your first time out.” She said with her arms folded, “Especially given how ill-equipped you were, but still...Next time there’s an auction...could I have your IDs to give you a call for backup?”

Taivenmon’s eyes lit up, “So we’re back in the business?” He asked, padding his hooves into the ground.

“Yep.” Liv replied and turned to the others with a sterner look on her face, “Of course, I expect you to be training for it in the future. The games and prizes in the city aren’t just to play with, everything in the Network is meant to prepare you for a real battle. I’d even coach you through some of the tough games.”

Everyone gave nods, though Ju hadn’t said anything of the sort when she had introduced him to the games, Isamu had gotten that impression from the heavy strategy and combat based games. Whoever designed these games definitely wanted them to be ready.

But for what? Just random Digimon attacks, or was there something else they were being prepared for?

Masato was the first to snap out of the silence, “Well, that’s all of us with partners now.” He said patting Destriemon’s side, “I think we should celebrate. Why don’t you guys all come over to my place? I know a great frozen yogurt shop, it’ll be my treat.”

“Frozen Yogurt? What’s that?” Namaemon asked, shifting his shoulders a bit making Ju and Aki cry out as they tried to keep themselves and their partners balanced on them.

Isamu sighed, for the moment wishing his partner was fully quadrupedal like the other Digimon, it would be much easier to ride him than to be carried like a doll while his friends fought to stay on his shoulders. True Namaemon could move between two legs and four, he was stubbornly insisting that caring all three of them was “A piece of cake”

“It’s a kind of food.” Isamu explained.

“Sounds yummy!” Lutrimon exclaimed, despite not knowing what kind of food this Frozen Yogurt was, the Digimon all seemed to be in agreement, going as far as Taivenmon telling them it was one of his favorite desserts, which got Lutrimon even more excited.

Of course, Liv placed her hand on Taivenmon’s face, silently reminding him that they weren’t part of the group, but Masato called over to her, “You and Taivenmon can come too. I mean- if you want. We woulda been toast without you, so if you’re not doing anything-”

“I’ll pa-” Liv was about to turn down the offer but Taivenmon turned his head up with pleading eyes that the American couldn’t seem to resist and she gave a sigh but turned to Masato with a smile, “I’d be delighted. I can’t stay long though, Taivenmon and I have to be home before morning or mom’s gonna freak.”

“Morning?” Aki asked, “That’s a long way of- oh wait. Time zones, I forgot.”

Ju nodded, “You’ll get used to that in the Network,” She said, “I was once on a team for one of the games with a kid from Germany and one from Alaska and our D-Gauntlets were all set to different times so we ended up losing because we didn’t synchronize them before the game and totally messed up our timing.”

They reached the gate and Masato tried to open it, only to have to be corrected by Liv. The evolved Digimon degenerated back to Rookie before going through the gate where the American girl and her partner then showed them where to find the safe house in the Network for auction victims where they took the children.

“What’s going to happen to them?” Aki asked, looking back toward the shelter where the kids were being tended to by older Tamers. Word that the Network was open seemed to be spreading, there were definitely more people than when they had left.

Isamu wondered if the attack on the Network and the Auction had been planned together. He didn’t know much about either the Demon Court or the Auctioneers, they seemed to have different goals between forcing human partnerships and wiping them out. But the timing felt too perfect to be a coincidence.

Liv shrugged, “Depends on them.” She said, “This group of kids has been missing for a couple of weeks in the real world, and no adult is going to believe them when they say they were kidnapped by monsters. They could decide to go home and try to forget but some of them might not be ready to go back yet and stick around to find partners here in the City. I know a few kids that were rescued from auctions and turned out to be pretty good Tamers.”

She looked sad at this and Masato almost wanted to ask, but decided to change the subject. He wasn’t at all a master at this D-Gauntlet stuff, but he had pieced together enough to know that if they came in through Ju’s computer they could come out through his, “So who’s ready for Frozen Yogurt?” He asked.

The Digimon all turned to him with excited cries, the Tamers rolled their eyes with chuckles and giggles.

--

A quick internet search revealed to Kaiyo that she wasn’t the only one who had questions about Digimon. Apparently there were several forums dedicated to asking what they were, but she didn’t have time to read them all. She was only on a fifteen minute break, but just knowing that there was something to look a little more closely at was reassuring.

Especially this Network site she’d found.

From just a quick look, it seemed like this could be the actual role play site that Isamu was referencing in his note. There were forums, daily challenges and score boards and even a login page, but Kaiyo didn’t see anyplace to sign up for a new account. That was weird, maybe she just wasn’t looking hard enough.

Aw well, the rest of that could wait until her shift was over.

After school, Kaiyo always helped her grandparents out at their convenience store, though she wasn’t technically an employee, she was treated like one and it was time to get back to the front counter. It was a little sad that neither of her uncles had married and had children, and that both of them had moved so far away.

Because of that, her grandparents had to hire outside the family in order to keep the business going, and since her mother had died so young, Kaiyo had no younger siblings to help either. The family owned and operated a store that her grandparents built hardly belonged to the family anymore. She supposed that was okay in some right, after all, her grandparents hired such nice people.

The paid employee welcomed her back and left the cash register in her care while they worked on restocking the freezer in the back. Kaiyo sighed and looked out the door, to the cars passing by. The store was empty for now, but in about an hour people on their way home from work would stop in for coffee or a pack of cigarettes.

Her thoughts drifted to the Network and it’s mysterious connection to her friend, Puckmon, who was definitely not just some mmorpg character. What exactly were Digimon...?