My God I am so tired of people only talking about mental illness and/or disability in fiction/as a literary theme when they can use it to back up their terrible male faves by saying that they Weren't That Bad, Actually and They Belong To A Marginalized/Unfairly Demonized Group, So You Need To Be On Their Side.

The Unofficial Black History Book

The Eulogy of Malcolm X

This Eulogy was delivered by Ossie Davis at the funeral of Malcolm X, in the Faith Temple Church of God In Christ in Harlem, on February 27th, 1965.

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Here - at this final hour, in this quiet place - Harlem has come to bid farewell to one of its brightest hopes -extinguished now, and gone from us forever. For Harlem is where he worked and where he struggled and fought - his home of homes, where his heart was, and where his people are - and it is, therefore, most fitting that we meet once again - in Harlem - to share these last moments with him. For Harlem has never been gracious to those who have loved her, hove fought her, and have defended her honor even to the death.

It is not in the memory of man that is beleaguered, unfortunate, but nonetheless proud community has found a braver, more gallant young champion than this Afro-American who lies before us - unconquered still. I say the word again, as he would want me to : Afro-American Malcom, who was a master, was most meticulous in his use of words. Nobody knew better than he the power of words have over minds of men. Malcolm had stopped being a 'Negro' years ago. It had become too small, too puny, too weak a word for him. Malcolm was bigger than that. Malcolm had become an Afro-American and he wanted - so desperately - that we, that all his people, would become Afro-Americans too.

There are those who will consider it their duty, as friends of the Negro people, to tell us to revile him, to flee, even from the presence of his memory, to save ourselves by writing him out of the history of our turbulent times. Many will ask what Harlem finds to honor in this stormy, controversial and bold young captain - and we will smile. Many will say turn away - away from this man, for he is not a man but a demon, a monster, a subverter and an enemy of the black man - and we will smile. They will say that he is of hate - a fanatic, a racist - who can only bring evil to the cause for which you struggle! And we will answer and say to them : Did you ever talk to brother Malcolm? Did you ever touch him, or have him smile at you? Did you ever really listen to him? Did he ever do a mean thing? Was he ever himself associated with violence or any public disturbance? For if you did you would know him. And if you knew him you would know why we must honor him.

Malcolm was our manhood, our living, black manhood! This was his meaning to his people. And, in honoring him, we honor the best in ourselves. Last year, from Africa, he wrote these words to a friend: 'My journey', he says, 'is almost ended, and I have a much broader scope than when I started out, which I believe will add new life and dimension to our struggle for freedom and honor and dignity in the States. I am writing these things so that you will know for a fact the tremendous sympathy and support we have among the African States for our Human Rights struggle. The main thing is that we keep a United Front wherein our most valuable time and energy will not be wasted fighting each other.' However we may have differed with him - or with each other about him and his value as a man - let his going from us serve only to bring us together, now.

Consigning these mortal remains to earth, the common mother of all, secure in the knowledge that what we place in the ground is no more now a man - but a seed - which, after the winter of our discontent, will come forth again to meet us. And we will know him then for what he was and is - A Prince - our own black shining Prince! -

Who didn't hesitate to die, because he loved us so."

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The Tulsa Race Massacre

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Clara Hale

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My Resources

Do you think one could follow the Jedi Code/Lifestyle in real life as a positive manner of living or do you think it only works in Star Wars? I asked this on r/Mawinstallation and the answers I got were either:

''The Jedi code is oppressive so no'' ( this was the most upvoted answer )

''The Jedi code works but only for the Jedi''

''The Jedi code requires the force to work and since the force doesn't exist in the real world, the code cannot work''

And finally, I got only a single reply that said

''Yes, the Jedi code does work in real life, that's the entire point of Star Wars''.

What is your take on this?

This is going to be sort of a long, roundabout answer, but the short version is: In the finer details, we're not space psychics, but as a general idea? Yes. First of all, what even IS the Jedi Code?  Are we talking about the whole “there is no emotion, there is peace”/”emotion, yet peace” meditation mantra, which we should point out is nowhere in the movies or TV shows, but is entirely in the novels and comics supplementary material?  Are we talking about a more generalized idea of Jedi philosophy?  And what, precisely, does that mean?  I mean, what’s oppressive about it and what scene evidences that that’s what the Jedi taught? Second, there are two talks that George Lucas gave that I think really illustrate this view of emotional navigation and how that impacts Star Wars and the Force: There’s the writers meeting of The Clone Wars where he talks about the light side and the dark side and there’s an Academy of Achievement Speech from 2013 where he talks about joy vs pleasure:     “Happiness is pleasure and happiness is joy. It can be either one, you add them up and it can be the uber category of happiness.     “Pleasure is short lived. It lasts an hour, it lasts a minute, it lasts a month. It peaks and then it goes down–it peaks very high, but the next time you want to get that same peak you have to do it twice as much. It’s like drugs, you have to keep doing it because it insulates itself. No matter what it is, whether you’re shopping or you’re engaged in any other kind of pleasure. It all has the same quality about it.     “On the other hand is joy and joy is the thing that doesn’t go as high as pleasure, in terms of your emotional reaction. But it stays with you. Joy is something you can recall, pleasure you can’t.  So the secret is that, even though it’s not as intense as pleasure, the joy will last you a lot longer.     “People who get the pleasure they keep saying, ‘Well, if I can just get richer and get more cars–!’ You’ll never relive the moment you got your first car, that’s it, that’s the highest peak. Yes, you could get three Ferraris and a new gulf stream jet and maybe you’ll get close. But you have to keep going and eventually you’ll run out.  You just can’t do it, it doesn’t work.     “If you’re trying to sustain that level of peak pleasure, you’re doomed. It’s a very American idea, but it just can’t happen. You just let it go. Peak.  Break. Pleasure is fun it’s great, but you can’t keep it going forever.     “Just accept the fact that it’s here and it’s gone, and maybe again it’ll come back and you’ll get to do it again. Joy lasts forever. Pleasure is purely self-centered. It’s all about your pleasure, it’s about you. It’s a selfish self-centered emotion, that’s created by self-centered motive of greed.     “Joy is compassion, joy is giving yourself to somebody else or something else. And it’s the kind of thing that is in it’s subtlty and lowness more powerful than pleasure.  If you get hung up on pleasure you’re doomed. If you pursue joy you will find everlasting happiness.”  –George Lucas And how I like to compare that to The Hijacking of the American Mind by Robert Lustig, MD, MSL, which is a book about how corporations have hijacked our pleasure centers to make us focused on reward over pleasure.  It talks about the exact same concepts, with only slight word adjustments, but otherwise might as well be verbatim: “At this point it’s essential to define and clarify what I mean by these two words—pleasure and happiness—which can mean different things to different people.     “Merriam-Webster’s Dictionary defines “pleasure” as “enjoyment or satisfaction derived from what is to one’s liking”; or “gratification”; or “reward.” While “pleasure” has a multitude of synonyms, it is this phenomenon of reward that we will explore, as scientists have elaborated a specific “reward pathway” in the brain, and we now understand the neuroscience of its regulation. Conversely, “happiness” is defined as “the quality or state of being happy”; or “joy”; or “contentment.” While there are many synonyms for “happiness,” it is the phenomenon that Aristotle originally referred to as eudemonia, or the internal experience of contentment, that we will parse in this book. Contentment is the lowest baseline level of happiness, the state in which it’s not necessary to seek more. In the movie Lovers and Other Strangers (1970), middle-aged married couple Beatrice Arthur and Richard Castellano were asked the question “Are you happy?”—to which they responded, “Happy? Who’s happy? We’re content.” Scientists now understand that there is a specific “contentment pathway” that is completely separate from the pleasure or reward pathway in the brain and under completely different regulation. Pleasure (reward) is the emotional state where your brain says, This feels good—I want more, while happiness (contentment) is the emotional state where your brain says, This feels good—I don’t want or need any more.     “Reward and contentment are both positive emotions, highly valued by humans, and both reasons for initiative and personal betterment. It’s hard to be happy if you derive no pleasure for your efforts—but this is exactly what is seen in the various forms of addiction. Conversely, if you are perennially discontent, as is so often seen in patients with clinical depression, you may lose the impetus to better your social position in life, and it’s virtually impossible to derive reward for your efforts. Reward and contentment rely on the presence of the other. Nonetheless, they are decidedly different phenomena. Yet both have been slowly and mysteriously vanishing from our global ethos as the prevalence of addiction and depression continues to climb.     “Drumroll … without further ado, behold the seven differences between reward and contentment: Reward is short-lived (about an hour, like a good meal). Get it, experience it, and get over it. Why do you think you can’t remember what you ate for dinner yesterday? Conversely, contentment lasts much longer (weeks to months to years). It’s what happens when you have a working marriage or watch your teenager graduate from high school. And if you experience contentment from a sense of achievement or purpose, the chances are that you will feel it for a long time to come, perhaps even the rest of your life.Reward is visceral in terms of excitement (e.g., a casino, a football game, or a strip club). It activates the body’s fight-or-flight system, which causes blood pressure and heart rate to go up. Conversely, contentment is ethereal and calming (e.g., listening to soothing music or watching the waves of the ocean). It makes your heart rate slow and your blood pressure decline.       - “ Reward can be achieved with different substances (e.g., heroin, nicotine, cocaine, caffeine, alcohol, and of course sugar). Each stimulates the reward center of the brain. Some are legal, some are not. Conversely, contentment is not achievable with substance use. Rather, contentment is usually achieved with deeds (like graduating from college or having a child who can navigate his or her own path in life).       - “Reward occurs with the process of taking (like from a casino). Gambling is definitely a high: when you win, it is fundamentally rewarding, both viscerally and economically. But go back to the same table the next day. Maybe you’ll feel a jolt of excitement to try again. But there’s no glow, no lasting feeling from the night before. Or go buy a nice dress at Macy’s. Then try it on again a month later. Does it generate the same enthusiasm? Conversely, contentment is often generated through giving (like giving money to a charity, or giving your time to your child, or devoting time and energy to a worthwhile project).       - Reward is yours and yours alone. Your sense of reward does not immediately impact anyone else. Conversely, your contentment, or lack of it, often impacts other people directly and can impact society at large. Those who are extremely unhappy (the Columbine shooters) can take their unhappiness out on others. It should be said at this point that pleasure and happiness are by no means mutually exclusive. A dinner at the Bay Area Michelin three-star restaurant the French Laundry can likely generate simultaneous pleasure for you from the stellar food and wine but can also generate contentment from the shared experience with spouse, family, or friends, and then possibly a bit of unhappiness when the bill arrives.       - Reward when unchecked can lead us into misery, like addiction. Too much substance use (food, drugs, nicotine, alcohol) or compulsive behaviors (gambling, shopping, surfing the internet, sex) will overload the reward pathway and lead not just to dejection, destitution, and disease but not uncommonly death as well. Conversely, walking in the woods or playing with your grandchildren or pets (as long as you don’t have to clean up after them) could bring contentment and keep you from being miserable in the first place.       - Last and most important, reward is driven by dopamine, and contentment by serotonin. Each is a neurotransmitter—a biochemical manufactured in the brain that drives feelings and emotions—but the two couldn’t be more different. Although dopamine and serotonin drive separate brain processes, it is where they overlap and how they influence each other that generates the action in this story. Two separate chemicals, two separate brain pathways, two separate regulatory schemes, and two separate physiological and psychological outcomes. How and where these two chemicals work, and how they work either in concert or in opposition to each other, is the holy grail in the ultimate quest for both pleasure and happiness.”                                – Robert Lustig, MD, MSL And then lets add in what Dave Filoni has said about the Force and the core themes of Star Wars:     "In the end, it’s about fundamentally becoming selfless moreso than selfish.  It seems so simple, but it’s so hard to do.  And when you’re tempted by the dark side, you don’t overcome it once in life and then you’re good.  It’s a constant.  And that’s what, really, Star Wars is about and what I think George wanted people to know.  That to be a good person and to really feel better about your life and experience life fully you have to let go of everything you fear to lose. Because then you can’t be controlled.        “But when you fear, fear is the path to the dark side, it’s also the shadow of greed, because greed makes you covet things, greed makes you surround yourself with all these things that make you feel comfortable in the moment, but they don’t really make you happy.  And then, when you’re afraid of something, it makes you angry, when you get angry, you start to hate something, sometimes you don’t even know why.  When you hate, do you often know why you hate?  No, you direct it at things and then you hate it.  And it’s hard because anger can be a strength at times, but you can’t use it in such a selfish way, it can be a destroyer then.        “These are the core things of Star Wars.“  –Dave Filoni So, the core things of Star Wars and the Jedi teachings (because Jedi teachings are basically almost word for word how GL described how the Force works) can very much be a reflection of real world teachings and ways to live by, because all of the above are about how GL viewed the world and what he wanted to put into his movies. Further, Jedi teachings are basically just reworded Buddhism + Acceptance and Commitment Therapy.  And both of those are very livable by our real world standards, if you so choose.  GL was very much about how SW had themes that were meant to be picked up on by the audience and even DF has said this:  “ Jedi have the ability to turn the tide, to make a significant moment, to give hope where there’s none.  That’s their ultimate role to play, to be this example of selflessness.  And that’s what makes them a hero, when no one else can match that heroic thing.  And then our job is to emulate that, to use that example, and further our own lives.” --Dave Filoni Ultimately, the Jedi are specifically focused on disciplining themselves (which GL has said is the only way to overcome the dark side, in that TCW writers’ meeting), probably to a degree most of us wouldn’t have the room to devote to, but that doesn’t mean that the broader strokes aren’t meant to be applicable to our lives or don’t echo real world teachings.

The Last Mandalorian

Chapter One: The Warrior in Carbonite Part 3

Fandom: The Mandalorian / Pedro Pascal

Eventual Pairing: Din x Togruta!Female!Reader

Word Count: 4,320

Rating: G

Summary: A series that is a mixture of Mandalorian, Star Wars, ATLA, and my own imagination. The Imps have seized control of the majority of the galaxy, including your homeworld Shili. You and your sister Ahsoka have developed a daily routine despite the stormtroopers keeping your village imprisoned. One morning you make a startling discovery that will change the course of your lives forever.

Warnings: I don’t know much about starship mechanics so probably nothing in this is accurate but it’s fanfiction people so cut me some slack please, reader gets a nickname 🥳, plot plot plot, discussion of loss of loved ones, worldbuilding, dialogue heavy, this is a slow burn but it’s also ridiculously self-indulgent so I’m including as many cute getting-to-know-you scenes as I can, reader is 17 and Din is 19 so I’m going to warn this as underage even though nothing sexual or even vaguely romantic happens in this chapter.

Author Note: Thank you anyone and everyone who has read even a sentence of this story! Special thanks and love to @dindja for creating this stunning, fantastic, amazing piece of fanart for me 💖💖💖 I still can’t believe how perfect it is. I mean, I’m such a sucker for pinky promises it’s not even funny and this is just beautiful 😍😍😍

Part 2

Cross-posted on AO3

For as grand and wide-reaching as the Galactic Empire has become in its ten years of existence, it had relatively small beginnings. A group of radical Force-wielders banded together under the leadership of an old, beady-eyed man named Sheev Palpatine who believed it was his divine destiny to seize control of the entire galaxy, rewriting the ancient laws to match his own beliefs. His cult, the Sith Order, gained attention by attacking Jedi temples, capital cities, places with large populations until every corner of the galaxy had heard of them. Most regarded them with fear, but over time they began garnering a startling amount of followers who were discontent with the status quo and willingly drafted themselves as soldiers in Palpatine’s fight for control.

At first everyone in your village thought Palpatine and his cult of followers weren’t worth worrying about—after all, Shili was a peaceful planet that never drew much attention to itself. But within the first year of its inception, the Sith Order captured Ryloth and the similar peaceful characteristics between the Twi’lek planet and Shili were too glaring to overlook. A seed of anxiety took root in every Togruta’s mind after that, and continued to grow with every planet seized as the years progressed.

The Decimation of Alderaan didn’t start as a tragedy, believe it or not. The Mandalorians, Jedi, and Alderaanians combined their numbers in an all-out fight against the Sith Order. It was the largest battle ever fought in the history of the galaxy, thousands of souls willing to die to defeat Palpatine’s followers. For the first three days of warfare, the fight seemed to be in favor of the allies with many noteworthy Sith members reportedly killed in the fray, such as Palpatine’s second-in-command Dooku and lethal Zabrak assassin Maul. You remember there was a sense of hope felt within your village as everyone listened to the news reports blaring across the Holonet. A belief that things were finally, finally going to return to normal after so much chaos.

But on the fourth day, the Sith Order brought their own ally onto the battlefield.

At the time there wasn’t a name for the droids that slaughtered every opponent they faced. They were described as indestructible, unharmed by blasters and the intense heat of Mandalorian flamethrowers. Not even lightsabers could damage them. The allies didn’t stand a chance, brutally murdered one by one, their dying screams echoing across the Holonet, forever haunting listeners far and wide.

The Dark Troopers were unleashed upon Mandalore afterwards and out of the ashes rose the Galactic Empire, except, in a twist nobody—not even the Sith Order—saw coming: Palpatine died before taking on the title of emperor, passing away in his sleep. A mediocre ending for the monster who permanently altered the foundations of the universe. One of his loyal followers from the cult’s early beginnings took control in his place, a vile man with a penchant for spilling blood and a deceptively bland name: Gideon.

Only seven years-old then, you didn’t understand the unbalance in the Force your aunt kept referencing. You didn’t understand the meaning of the word genocide either. But you did understand the galaxy would never be the same ever again, and the lesson was only further established as truth when the Imperials seized your village. 

There is no normalcy to return to anymore.

And as long as Emperor Gideon remains in control, there is no future to hope for either.

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Silence reigns in the aftermath of Maar’s explanation as the long list of tragedies hangs heavy over the four occupants. There is tension in the air as you await the Mandalorian’s response to the extinction of his people, whether that be an outburst of anger or tears, and each passing minute only intensifies the nervous energy thrumming through your veins. Your leg starts to bounce restlessly, a bad habit you have had since childhood.

The Mandalorian stands eerily motionless. Your eyes keep flicking from your lap to his visor though you know it is rude to stare. His helmet hides his expression, but you don’t need to see it to know he is floundering right now, mind scrambling to piece together all the details thrown at him. From personal experience, you know the loss of a loved one hits like a tidal wave, hitting you over and over again until you must decide if you are going to stand up or surrender to drowning. Grieving the loss of your parents is the hardest experience of your lifetime to date.

But this...this is vastly different. The Mandalorian didn’t just lose his loved ones. He has lost his friends, neighbors, comrades, acquaintances, everyone all at once. This loss isn’t a tidal wave. It is a kriffing avalanche, burying him ten feet under in total darkness, and there is no one he can count on to save him. 

Finally, after the longest five minutes of your life, he shifts, resting his hands upon his belt with an unexpected air of seriousness. “I need to go.”

You frown, head tilting. That is his reaction?

“Go?” Ahsoka echoes, sounding as incredulous as you feel. “Go where?”

“To look for survivors,” he answers, blunt and harsh, the words forced through clenched teeth. 

Ahsoka is struck silent, and you feel your heart break on his behalf. Your mother’s stories about the Mandalorians had always included, one way or another, their lifelong bonds with each other. You had felt those ties when you had connected with the Mandalorian, believed for a moment as strongly as he did that his fellow warriors would come search for him, that his absence would be noticed and missed amongst them. And here he is now, still desperately clutching to them, unable—or, perhaps unwilling is more apt—to believe a stranger telling him those bonds have been cruelly severed. 

“What you need is to rest,” Maar says, gentle yet firm, letting her authority as the eldest in the room seep into her tone.

He shakes his head, not backing down. “I’ve been asleep for ten years. I don’t need any more rest.”

“Your ship, it, uh,” your shoulders hike up defensively when his visor snaps in your direction, pinning you with its blank stare. Clearing your throat, you continue with a slight grimace, “It’s going to need some repairs before it can take off. I can help you fix it.”

Ahsoka looks over at you in surprise, and then in worry. You don’t blame her, especially since the offer had slipped out without you consciously meaning it to. Once again, the Force is calling the shots and you are just along for the ride, a passenger in your own body.

He considers you for a long moment, then asks, “What do you know about the mechanics of a gunship?” 

If anyone else had asked you that same exact question, you would have bristled at their condescension and retracted your offer in the next breath. But with the Mandalorian, there isn’t even the slightest hint of patronizing courtesy. It is a serious question prompted from genuine curiosity.

You sit up straighter, smiling at him now. “Enough to confidently say I’m your best shot at getting off the ground.”

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“What’s your plan, exactly?” Ahsoka asks you, braced against the wall with one eye on you and one on the Mandalorian across the garage, patiently waiting for you to finish assembling your tool kit. 

“Huh?” You reply distractedly, trying to decide if you should bring your carbon chisel or not. 

“You don’t have one, do you?”

Not. There are bigger concerns than a bit of carbon scoring. You move to grab your favorite screwdriver with a tapered socket, only for Ahsoka to snatch it away, holding the tool hostage.

“Hey!”

“Have you thought about what you’re doing?” Ahsoka asks slowly, staring you directly in the eyes. “Once you fix his ship, he’s gone. And he’s taking our best chance at escaping Shili with him.”

A quick glance over your shoulder shows the Mandalorian studying the scattered BB unit parts on your workbench. You are missing a few vital components needed in order to bring the little droid back to life after a stormtrooper shot a plasma bolt through it for accidentally bumping into his leg, and haven’t had any luck convincing the village traders to track them down for you when they went to the capital. 

“We can’t keep him here against his will,” you manage at last, turning back to your sister. “Otherwise we’re no better than the Imps.”

When Ahsoka doesn’t say anything, you shrug a shoulder, adding, “Besides, I think I’m supposed to fix it for him. The Force seems pretty insistent about it.”

She makes a face at that. “I liked you better when you ignored your Force instincts. You didn’t make me worry as much.”

A laugh escapes you, embarrassingly loud in the otherwise quiet space, and your cheeks immediately start burning. Ahsoka’s lip twitches like she wants to smile, but instead she schools her features into a blank expression when the Mandalorian’s head turns at the sound. Only once he diverts his attention elsewhere again does her stare lose some of its intensity, looking less like she wants to dissect him beneath a microscope. You can practically see her protective-older-sister-instincts buzzing, reacting to the warrior’s presence. 

As much as he is a chance at providing an escape, he is also first and foremost a complete and total stranger. Even worse, he is a complete and total stranger who knows how to handle weapons. 

“I’ll be fine, I promise.” You squeeze her arm reassuringly. “Shouldn’t take longer than a couple of hours. You’ll be so busy smoothing the Elders’ ruffled feathers you won’t even notice I’m gone.”

Ahsoka finally relinquishes the tool, exhaling a quiet sigh. “You shouldn’t make promises you don’t know for certain you can keep.”

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Walking side by side with the Mandalorian in silence isn’t awkward, per se, but it definitely isn’t comfortable either. He is close enough your arm keeps accidentally grazing against his, the cold brush of metal against your skin startling you each time. You would have considered his nearness strange if you hadn’t heard Ahsoka threaten to castrate him if you wound up hurt before she sent him flying at the juni tree branch outside your window with an unnecessarily strong push of Force. 

To his credit, the warrior handled her rough treatment with the same ease he has handled everything else thrown at him. You are beginning to think Mandalorians don’t just wear beskar—they are made of it too. Other than the few glimpses of frustration earlier in Maar’s office, he keeps his cards close to his chest, impossible to read. 

He watches everything though, reacting to the slightest of movements and sounds. Constantly alert. You are certain he is watching you right now, despite the fact his helmet is facing forward, your nerves prickling in response to the sensation of eyes upon you.

To your surprise, he is the one to break the silence first. “You sneak out often.”

It is a statement, not a question. 

You suppose the dots are easy enough to connect to reach that conclusion. Still, the certainty in his voice has your heart skipping a nervous beat. He hasn’t even known you a day and yet he is privy to secrets no one outside your community is aware of. “Yeah,” you nod your head after a brief lapse of silence, “Ahsoka can’t train in the village. Not with the stormtroopers around.”

“Has your village tried to run them out? Fight back?”

It is only because you know he is just trying to understand your village’s predicament with the little bits of information he has that you don’t snap at him for being so insensitive. He has no idea what these past five years have been like for you all. No idea the amount of losses and sacrifices the community has suffered. 

Your grip on your tool kit tightens. “I was twelve when they came. The community is mostly traders and hunters, not trained fighters. The few weapons we had were nothing compared to their blaster rifles, but some of the adults tried to defend the village, including our parents. They...” You swallow, or try to, at least, your throat suddenly dry as sand. “Our aunt looked after us until last year we woke up one morning to find a note she’d left to join the rebellion. We haven’t had any contact with her since.”

The Mandalorian’s gloved hand brushes against your knuckles. This time you think it might have been on purpose.

“I lost my parents as a child, too. There was a riot and they died protecting me,” he offers his own private details with the same reluctance as one volunteering to have their teeth pulled out. “The Mandalorians took me in, raised me as one of their own.”

You say nothing about the way his breath slightly hitches when he says Mandalorians, appreciating his openness as it puts you both on somewhat equal footing with each other. 

“I owe it to them to look for survivors,” he tells you, and your montrals detect the quietest hint of a plea in his voice. 

“I understand,” you answer, keeping your tone light to preserve the fragility of this moment. This kind of situation doesn’t happen often—two strangers on the same wavelength, exposing their vulnerable underbellies, desperate to be heard and yet skittish at the same time—and it is oddly therapeutic. 

A decision is made right then and there in the span of a heartbeat. And even more significantly, it is 100% your own choice without any intervention or manipulation from the Force. 

You stop walking, causing the Mandalorian to halt as well. He scans the area for a threat, then visibly jerks when he turns back to find you have your hand held out towards him, pinky raised high, reacting as if you are pointing a weapon at him.

“I don’t understand,” he says, blunt and almost suspicious sounding. Are you just imagining it or can you actually hear him frowning? “What are you doing?”

“Haven’t you ever made a pinky promise with someone before?”

“...A what?”

You snort, ducking your head to hide your smile, and then reach for his hand. Surprisingly, he doesn’t protest your touch.

“A pinky promise,” you repeat as you make his hand form a fist, curling his fingers towards his palm, and then adjust his pinky so you can wrap yours around it. He watches the whole process wordlessly. “It’s a sacred vow shared between two people. The Elders say once it’s sworn, the promise can never be broken.”

He cocks his head, skeptical. “Never?”

“Never,” you reaffirm with a nod. Licking your lips, you look at his visor, right where you instinctively know his eyes are staring back. “I promise I’m going to help you. No matter the odds.”

And something leaks into your voice then, something resolute and binding and otherworldly. A tremor shoots down your spine, too quick for you to make sense of it.

Your sister’s words echo in the back of your mind, ‘You shouldn’t make promises you don’t know for certain you can keep.’ 

You try to pull away, self-doubt gnawing a hole in your stomach, only for the Mandalorian to wrap his pinky tighter around yours, holding you still. A gasp escapes your lips, muffled by the bleeding sincerity in his voice as he swears:

“I promise I will be there when you need me. No matter the odds.”

And although your sister could undoubtedly provide you with a long list of reasons why you shouldn’t, you believe his promise to be true.

__

The Mandalorian heaves a heavy sigh at the sight of his crashed ship. 

“I can’t do much about the landing gear,” you inform him, believing honesty to be the best policy for cases like this. “And I brought some foam-jet for the cockpit viewport, but it’s not a permanent fix. You’re going to have to find someone offworld to replace them.”

“Right,” he agrees absently without turning his eyes away. It occurs to you then that this ship is the closest thing to a home he has now. One of the few precious relics from his past he can still physically cling to. 

“Does your ship have a name?” you ask.

He looks at you, as if coming back to self-awareness, and answers, “Razor Crest.”

A good name, you think. Strong. A bit mysterious. Just like its owner.

You nod decisively. “I like it.”

His modulator crackles faintly, a quiet noise produced from a sudden exhale of air. You blink at the unexpected sound, surprised to realize you recognize it. A laugh. The Mandalorian just laughed at something you said. What is next in store for you? Are akul going to sprout wings and start flying?

He steps around you, heading for the side entry door still open from yesterday with its ramp laying on the ground, pebbles shifting noisily beneath his boots with each step. You don’t realize you are staring, oddly entranced by the swish of his cape and his purposeful strides, until he calls out your name to ask if you are coming.

You nearly drop your tool kit in your haste to follow after him into the Crest’s interior, ignoring the flaring heat radiating from your cheeks. 

For the next few hours, you and the Mandalorian work in companionable silence, engrossed in rerouting wires and welding damaged components with your trusty hand torch. The gunship is older than you initially assumed, perhaps even as old as yourself, and you idly wonder if the Mandalorian found it in a scrapyard somewhere or maybe inherited it from another Mandalorian. You notice the way he handles each piece with an experienced and respectful touch; the same kind of care someone reserves for their most cherished possessions. Anyone with eyes can see how much he loves the Crest just by watching him.

Once you have finished sealing the numerous cracks dissecting the cockpit’s viewport like a spiderweb with foam, you approach the Mandalorian to see his progress on returning power to the dashboard. He is on his back beneath the steering controls, rearranging a mess of wires, and barely acknowledges your presence when you squeeze yourself into the tight space next to him.

“The red wire goes before the white one,” you point out, noticing the mistake immediately. “Fire hazard.”

He pauses, looks at where you have gestured, and corrects his error without criticizing your intervention. You bite back a smile, pleased to be heard. Within your community, even though you have proven your skills time and time again, some of the villagers, usually men, don’t always adhere to your advice, thinking you are too young and too female to know about technology, until they inevitably make their problems worse for themselves and come back to you with their metaphorical tail between their legs. 

You help him reattach the cover plating once he has finished, screwing the bolts back into their corners, and then watch, fingers crossed, as he attempts the ignition sequence, flipping a series of switches.

None of them light up with even the faintest flicker of life.

“Dank farrik,” he growls under his breath, slamming a fist upon the console.

You take a tiny step forward, hesitant to direct his frustration your way. “Can I try?” 

He tilts his head, probably thinking he knows this ship better than anyone and if it doesn’t work for him then you aren’t going to have any luck either.

Eventually he steps back with a shrug, uttering a simple, “Sure.” 

Although you can’t remember the last time you were on a ship, it doesn’t take long to refamiliarize yourself with the various controls and screens once you take a seat in the pilot chair. When your hobby for fixing broken machines changed into a passion you wanted to pursue as a future career, you started memorizing any reading material you could find on the Holonet, including the flight manuals for different classes of starships. You flip through the stored information in your mind about gunships as you press a few buttons on the panel overhead, trying out different sequences for a response.

When your third attempt fails, you bite your lip, racking your brain for a solution. You think about Huno’s kitchen droid and how you had been on the verge of ripping off one of your head-tails trying to repair it after one of its fuses blew, causing it to malfunction. Your tools and knowledge hadn’t been able to fix it in the end. It had required a special remedy to bring it back to life.

You lay your palms flat on the console, just as you had held onto the droid’s square torso. Out of the corner of your eye, you notice the Mandalorian fidget, as if he wants to come closer but is hesitant to crowd you. You ignore him, pressing your fingertips harder against the metal, visualizing in your mind the unseen gears, cables, and components stiff and powerless. You imagine the parts working properly, a current of electricity running through each wire, life ultimately returning to the entire ship, and whisper under your breath a request to the Force.

“Please work, please work, please work…”

An invisible pulse of energy burns down the length of your arms and discharges through your fingertips, strong enough you jerk backwards against the seat. Every button and screen on the dashboard lights up all at once, beeping with alarm at being so rudely resurrected.

You sit there helplessly, stunned and breathless, hands twitching in your lap. The kitchen droid hadn’t required even half as much energy to restart, barely a pinch. Now your body feels like you have been thrown against the electric fence a dozen times. Wordlessly, the Mandalorian comes to your side to help, punching buttons and turning knobs until the alarms quit blaring. A distant part of your brain thinks the Razor Crest as a whole seems strangely soothed by his presence, not quite as cold and dark, but it is hard to follow that train of thought due to the distracting pain throbbing along your temples.

“That’s quite a spark you’ve got,” he says, not unkindly or accusingly, just a statement of the obvious. He looks down at you, not outright asking for an explanation, but giving you the opportunity to open up if you wanted to.

“Yep, that’s me,” you reply, forcing a cheerful smile, praying it doesn’t resemble a grimace. “Sparks Tano at your service.”

He chuckles again, oblivious to how your heart stutters at its raspiness. “Thank you, Sparks. I appreciate it.”

“Well, we’re not done yet.” You rub at your temples under the guise of adjusting your headband. “I need to take a closer look at the engines before we attempt flying out of here. I—”

“I’ll do it,” he cuts in, already heading for the ladder. “You stay here, see if you can update the navicomputer settings.”

You know he knows that updating the navicomputer is child’s play for you. Clearly you aren’t as great at concealing your pain as you thought you were and this is his way of giving you a break. A small part of you is irritated at being treated like a porcelain doll, but you push those negative feelings aside as quickly as they develop. Your aunt always used to remind you and Ahsoka it was okay to accept help when it was offered, that needing support didn’t in any way make you weak. 

“Hey, wait a second,” you call out as you spin around in your seat, freezing him right before he disappears from view into the hull. He holds onto the ladder, waiting patiently for you to continue.

“Back at Maar’s place you didn’t introduce yourself and it’s weird just calling you Mandalorian in my head,” you say, awkwardly drumming your fingers on top of the armrests. He doesn’t answer, eliciting a sigh from your mouth after a drawn-out beat of silence. “What’s your name? You do have one, right?”

“I do, but I can’t tell you it,” he admits at last. “By Mandalorian Creed, only other Mandalorians or my riduur—my spouse,” he corrects, seeing your confusion, “are allowed to know my name and see my face. This is the Way.”

He doesn’t linger to hear your response, dropping down into the hull with a resounding thud. You slowly turn back around, staring absently out the glass. Every culture is unique, including your own, but you think there is something especially interesting about the Mandalorians’. It sounds like a lonely existence, only able to show your face while in select company. What would have happened if he had been unconscious and you had slipped the helmet off his head? What consequence would he have faced? 

And if there truly aren’t any Mandalorians left besides him, his spouse will be the only one to ever know him completely. It almost sounds like a love story, if not a little bit heart-wrenching. 

Two high-pitched dings from the console jerk you out of your thoughts with a wince. You look for the source, finding the radar lit up and actively scanning the area, and bristle when you see a pair of red dots moving across the screen. 

Not even a minute later you are sprinting out of the cave, ignoring the Mandalorian’s alarmed shout from the roof of the Razor Crest. They’re early, you think with panic, looking towards the sky where two starships with Imperial logos are heading straight for your village. Why have they come back so soon?

You push your legs to run faster, your surroundings a blur beyond the trail in front of you, but the effort is meaningless. You won’t make it back home before they land.

And when your absence is noted, bloodshed is not a possibility. 

It is a guarantee.

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the avatar I azula x reader

what if azula will have a crush on a girl that turns out to be the avatar, what would she do? 

a/n: take a shot every time you see me doing a grammatical mistake, it's a little bit dramatic and in this fic azula is slightly ooc, because she's in love

Y/N were just playing in the royal garden, she came to the palace with her uncle, who had to attend a meeting. Y/N heard some noises behind her, and when she turned around, she saw a girl, who was walking towards her. The mysterious girl has a dark hair and a sly smile on her face, when she approached her, Y/N could see the royal crown in the girl's head. "Your Royal Highness." Y/N says gently bowing her head. "I saw you here, all alone, so I decided to play with you since I'm so bored." The princess voice was calm, but it still sends shivers down Y/N's spine. "Also, you can address me as Azula, what's your name?" To Y/N's opinion Azula's voice sounds genuinely interested. "Y/N". In that afternoon, Azula and Y/N spent time together, playing and chatting about stuff, the firebender even showed Y/N her moves, Azula couldn't help but try to impress the other girl. She even scolded herself for being so open with a person that she met a few hours ago, but the other girl makes it so easy to be wide open with her. Their game was interrupted by a maiden, that with a polite voice announced that the meeting was over and Y/N's uncle was waiting for her. "Will you come again?" Azula's voice was still calm, but to that was added a bit of sadness as well. "It was my uncle who was invited, so I don't know-" But her words were interrupted by Azula's "I'm the princess and I order you to be tomorrow here." She sounds like she will not take no as an answer, so Y/N just bend her upper body in a sign of respect and left with the maid who was ready to escort her. The next day Azula introduced Y/N to her other friends, Mai and Ty Lee, the last one was so happy to meet Y/N, that she runs to hug her. "So you are that mysterious Y/N that Azula talks about all morning, nice to meet you." You smile at the girl who griped you in her arms, noticing Azula's slightly red cheeks, which disappeared once she saw other's eyes on her. After that, the four became the best friends, spending a lot of time in academy and at royal palace. This is where Y/N found out that she can firebend, before that she was thinking that she's a non-bender.

Y/N was training already a few years in hand combat, but the last few months she had taken some acrobatic lessons from Ty Lee, who was very happy to teach her friend everything she knows. That's how Y/N found herself sparring with Azula on the backyard, wanting to test her abilities on a firebender who'll shot fire at her. At start Azula casts some fire at Y/N to see how good she can move, when she saw the girl moving fast and precise, she stopped holding herself back. After Y/N successfully dodged all the fire she sends at her, Azula shot more fireballs at the girl, thinking she'll dodged it like the first ones. But Y/N didn't, she avoids the first three shots, but missed to escape the third one, the blue fire almost licked the young girl's skin, but in a pure instinct, Y/N, stopped the fire right in front of her chest, shocking everyone including herself.

"So you didn't know that you're a firebender?" Mai's voice is curious; despite being hardly covered in carelessness. "Honestly I though I'm a non-bender as my parents, my uncle is the only firebender that I know in my family." Y/N talk fast, still astonished by the news. "Then you a very lucky person." The girl quickly turns around to see Azula who have a small smile on her face, but when she lifts her eyes to meet Azula's eyes she notice sadness in them. "Y/N can I talk to you privately?" But the princess didn't wait for girl to answer, she takes Y/N's forearm and drags her to garden, that she so dearly hates. "Something's wrong?"  Azula study Y/N for a long time, her eyes exams her body, stopping at her chest when she noticed the slightly burned garment. "Are you dragged me here just to stare at my chest?" Y/N founds this situation funny, but the blush still crept on her cheeks, for her the princess is more than just a friend, you can call it a crush. Azula on other side just rolls her eyes, still deep in her thoughts. "I'm sorry, I should had been more careful, I almost hurt you." She said avoiding the other girl eyes. Y/N smile, in this few years, she gets used to see Azula's emotions or regrets occasionally and only in private, that's why she greedy memorize every second. "That's okay Azula, I'm not hurt and if you want to make up for almost kill me, you can become my firebender teacher." Azula just rolls her eyes again, feeling much lighter, now that she's sure that Y/N it's not mad at her.

Later, in the night, Azula is thinking about her feelings toward the Y/N, the things that she feels when the girl is near it’s nothing that she ever felt. Her heart starts beating faster, her palms sweats, she feels a tight in her chest and a foreign sensation of pure happiness every time Y/N hugs her.

Another few months were spending for Y/N in endless training with Azula, who makes sure to cast her own feelings for Y/N aside and teach her firebending. She makes sure to introduce her to everything she knows and even started slowly to teach Y/N the lightning bending.

But Azula was still a royal member who needs to attend gatherings and parties, so when she has to meet some very important general, she takes Y/N with her, half to continue their training and half to just have Y/N beside herself. "Why are you so pale, are you sick?" The Azula's face stay the same, not even one face muscle twitches, she keeps her appearance calm, but Y/N could see the worry in her eyes. "I guess it's just sea sickness." Azula frown her eyebrows and drags the sick girl to her own chamber, on the way ordering to one of the guards to bring something for sea sickness. "That's nothing Azula, I'll get over this." "You look very pale, maybe a tea will make you feel better?" The next few days Y/N spends on bed, feeling very ill and weak, but at the same times she enjoys the sudden attention that came from Azula. Lost in worries, Azula, didn't notice how their borders disappeared, she could spend hours just talking with Y/N, but deep down in her heart she knew that this is too good to last forever. And she was right.

Y/N felt like the sea decide to revenge on them, the storm make their ship to shake violently, while the waves were hitting them. Azula was busy talking with the captain, deciding how to survive the calamity. Y/N felt useless so she decides to go and help the crew to bring in everything from outside. The hard rain on girl skin didn't bring discontent, opposite, she feels very content, it was until she was thrown out from the ship by a violent shake.

Azula was annoyed by the downpour, thinking how late she'll be, her thinking was interrupted by an open door without anyone knocking on it. She was ready to scream, when she saw the terrified look on one of the guard. "What's now?" "It's Y/N, she was outside when we saw how she fell into the sea!" He sounds scared, and Azula wonders, is he anxious about Y/N or afraid of her anger. She didn't cast a second glance at him, she tells him to show her where this happened.

During this time, Y/N, was fighting for her life, feeling how the heavy clothes drags her deeper to the bottom. She already lost all hopes when she heard a voice, then another, thousands voices in her head, telling her to rise, Y/N's hands move on their own, bending all the water from her lungs and then around her, moving her closer to the surface. The last thing that Y/N feels is a pair of hands that brings her out of water.

Azula could feel her heart pounding in her chest, she hurried up her pace, almost running, she outs all her thoughts that she's late, Y/N's alright, right? Outside the rain stopped, making easy to search something on water, she moves around the ship, ordering everyone to do the same. Azula was ready to take a boat and search somewhere further, when she saw a light coming deep from the water and then she saw a body. Quickly lifting the body out of the water she breathes with relieved when she saw Y/N's face, but then she notices the light in her eyes that slowly faded away. Azula let the body on the deck and feels like her whole world breaks again, she commands to her guards to take care of Y/N, while she left to recollect her mind.

Azula spend the last hour thinking, Y/N is the avatar, there's no doubt, the shining eyes and the water that brought her from the sea. The person that she cares about dearly is the avatar, the number one enemy of the firenation. So the rumours about the "avatar" that was seen in Southern Water Tribe is a lie, she was right beside them. She could go and throw her in jail, where she wouldn't be able to bend anything, bring the avatar back the fire nation, her father will be proud of her, her nation will worship her. Azula moves fast, open the door that secure the avatar from her and stopped when she saw the girl on bed. The realization hit her, it's real, Y/N is the avatar, she can't sacrifice her, Azula stays here, just like that, staring at the girl and try to analyze everything. "Azula?" The hoarse voice of the Y/N, makes shivers run down Azula's spine. "Did you know that?" She needs to know, did Y/N lied to her all this time. "I don't understand." Y/N sounds genuinely, that make Azula even more angry. "Did you know that you are the Avatar?" She almost spits this words, feeling how her defense starts to crack. "The Avatar? What do you mean-...so this's what it was...Azula I swear I didn't know" The tears start pouring right from the Y/N's eyes. Azula study the girl a few more moments and came closer, already knowing what she'll do. "You can't stay here, Y/N, it's dangerous. I'll leave a boat here, on the ship, take it and run away. Hide somewhere, maybe in Earth Kingdom? It's a very big place, they wouldn't find you here." The stillness returned in Azula's voice. "I can't leave, my family and, and you Azula, I can't leave you." "I'll meet you at sunset, come here to the ship, understand?" Y/N nods and Azula, take of the hand from girl's face, when she even managed to touch her? The rest of the day Azula tried to focus on the general and his plans. "I know, everyone think that Avatar returned back to world, but tha's just rumors, your highness"

To Azula annoyance, outside was pouring once again, she lets a deep breath when she saw Y/N's form approaching her. "Had you taken everything?" Azula says nodding to a small bag in the girl's hands. "I didn't take a lot of things with me." Y/N study Azula's face trying to find anything, but was meeting by a stone cold face. "Take it, you'll need money." The princess quickly throws the bag with money in Y/N's own bag. "Why do you do this Azula?" "Because..." Azula looks at Y/N as if she tried to remember everything, taking her arms she cups Y/N's face, inhaling deeply when she saw her leaning in, caressing softly her face to Azula's hands. "I care about you." Y/N nods and take Azula's face in her hands, giving her a kiss, tears were all over their face, and Y/N let a painful laugh. "I imagined our first kiss differently." Azula tilt her head and give the last kiss, feeling way to numb to even cry. "We meet again, I know this, when I'll win the war, I'll found you, I promise." Y/N just close her eyes trying to remember Azula's scent. She quickly gets on the boat, which will take her to the port where Y/N will start her life on the run. The next time they’ll meet, both of them will be on different sides of the war.

some thoughts that might seem unrelated but aren’t, i promise:

— in that atomic habits book I read a couple weeks back the author talks about using a specific, action-oriented question repeated throughout the day to help you build or break habits (like “what would a physically fit person do?” or “what would a sober person do?”).   

— the aging books i was reading last month noted that people who score high in conscientiousness (on the Big Five personality traits) tend to age most successfully ie enjoy the longest stretch of active years. to quote this article, conscientiousness is “a fundamental personality trait—one of the Big Five—that reflects the tendency to be responsible, organized, hard-working, goal-directed, and to adhere to norms and rules...Conscientiousness comprises self-control, industriousness, responsibility, and reliability. A conscientious person is good at self-regulation and impulse control. This trait influences whether you will set and keep long-range goals, deliberate over choices, behave cautiously or impulsively, and take obligations to others seriously.” I tend to score very high in openness but very, very low in conscientiousness. more on this in a bit...  

— my sister and i were talking recently about different kinds of intelligence, and also about core values. one of hers is efficiency, a word that i have all kinds of negative associations with lol but that she explained in ways i found really intriguing. for her efficiency isn’t about, like, Maximizing Productivity for Capitalism but is about methodically searching for the most effective, least confusing or redundant, most easily-communicable-to-others way to solve complex problems. when she encounters a system that has all kinds of weird bottlenecks or inefficient, time-consuming ways of completing a task (esp if the rationale for those methods is just “well.. that’s how we’ve always done it”), she starts immediately examining the larger structures and workflows around those bottlenecks to see if the established ways of doing things can be rerouted or simplified, and then she constructs new protocols or tools for people to use instead of the old inefficient way of working. efficiency will never be a core value of mine, in part because i think my humanities-oriented brain accords more value than her STEM/medicine-oriented brain does to wandering, daydreaming, slowed-down thinking, doubling-back or retracing one’s steps, and other “inefficient” modes of thinking that slow down the process but can lead you in unexpected directions or spark unanticipated epiphanies that illuminate the larger structures differently. i think we both share a keen interest in systems-level thinking and in examining whether established ways of doing things are the most effective ways of doing things, but we prioritize different modes of thinking and problem-solving in figuring out how to alter or redesign those larger systems (which is probably a result of temperament differences + our field-specific training).

THAT SAID, i have been thinking a lot about how one area of my own intelligence i would like to sharpen/hone in both my professional and personal life is like... a mode of intelligence that is linked to rigor, a more methodical approach to problem-solving, and the ability to construct & more methodically test detailed mental schemas. not quite sure how to articulate that but i feel like my thinking has gotten a little fuzzier than i want it to. and I think maybe this sensed fuzziness in thinking is linked to some of my ongoing feelings of restless discontent re: work. I also just in general want to be more conscientious in how I approach and solve problems, or in how I tackle big and small projects.

— this is more tangentially connected but: i feel like one thing i’ve noticed this year is that a lot of the people i admire professionally are really good at seeking out & taking on lots and lots of additional challenges or commitments, and they can do this in part because they tend to be very conscientious people, ie people who have big-picture vision but are also very detail-oriented and good at managing their time effectively & doing things efficiently so they can take on multiple projects without feeling overwhelmed. i feel like my own low-conscientiousness means that i can’t take full advantage of my high-openness—often i want to take on new projects or challenges but i worry that i’ll overextend myself or that the project will become more time-consuming than i anticipate. i think is linked to a different sort of fuzziness, ie a lack of clarity about how long things take or how much time i have — all combined with a deeply ingrained sense of myself as someone with executive dysfunction issues (poor time management, poor planning skills, poor organizational abilities, etc.). i think of myself as a very inefficient and extraordinarily disorganized person, whether this is 100% accurate or not, and that can sometimes lead to me taking myself out of the running for opportunities or limiting the number of projects i take on out of a fear that i won’t be disciplined enough to see them through.

— another thing my sister and i were talking about recently is how within large families, siblings tend to get assigned a “role” or a personality within the family dynamic very early on, and then they get sort of locked into that over time. everyone in the family expects them to always behave in that way, and there’s often a lot of unconscious resistance to letting your family members change or grow or develop in ways that contradict the clearly defined family role that’s been assigned to them, or the family “story” that everyone else in the family tells about them. you can get locked into both positive and negative roles—or like, often the positive role has a negative flipside. we were talking about how within our family, i’ve been “assigned” to be the “deep thinker” ie the introspective one who spends my life writing and thinking and daydreaming, whereas my sister has been assigned the role of being most like my father, ie very methodical, analytical, unemotional, and action-oriented (and therefore not introspective or inward-looking). and we were talking about how both of these have a negative flipside: my sister feels like she doesn’t get to be a “deep thinker,” or an introspective, emotionally intelligent person; whereas i feel like in my family’s story for me i am forever in “lalaland,” as my mom always says—head in the clouds, an ineffectual dreamer, the absentminded professor who has lots of big thoughts and feelings but is incapable of bringing any of my fantastical ideas to fruition because i have very little practical knowledge or stick-to-itiveness.  

— as i’ve said many times before, i feel like i can’t solve the big-picture issues with my job right now, since so many of them are linked to shitty pandemic realities. but i was thinking that maybe one way to begin laying the groundwork for this final year in my job might be to work on strengthening my conscientiousness at the micro-level, ie in small everyday habits and interactions. my hope is that maybe by practicing conscientiousness in lots of small, low-stakes situations, i can start strengthening those muscles and building trust in myself as “the kind of person who does ____” (which i feel like is necessary for me to begin challenging the family story i’ve internalized what i am like). i mean, there is a lot of truth to that family story! but i bet that those aspects of my personality are nowhere near as inflexible or as like, divinely preordained as i have often assumed they are. like, i bet that through practice & through building better habits i can actually become significantly more conscientiousness (reliable, responsible, hardworking, efficient, good at follow-through, self-disciplined, etc) than i am now. and while efficiency may never be as central a value for me as it is for my sister, i think there is probably a way for me to see efficiency and conscientiousness as linked to my own core values, if only because those qualities or traits will allow me to better enact/embody my core values. so i think i can see it not as working against the grain of my personality, but as working to build out less-developed parts of my personality to strengthen the parts of my character that i value most.

— anyway this is all to say that for the last week i’ve been asking myself aloud “what would a conscientious person do?” multiple times a day, really any time i find myself at a small crossroads where i have to make a small decision. do i pick up that piece of cardboard and put it in the recycling bin now or leave it till later? (what would a conscientious person do?) do i return that call from the plumber now or put it off until later? (what would a conscientious person do?) do i take two minutes to pay that $4 toll bill now or put it on the giant stack of “tasks i will definitely deal with when i’m in the mood to deal with them,” where it will inevitably become a $25 and then $50 bill because i forgot about it and now have to pay late fees? (what would a conscientious person do?) do i comment on that student’s draft now when i’d rather be on the couch scrolling through social media? (i could probably do it tomorrow, when i have another block of free time, but what would a conscientious person do?) i have no idea if it will work in the long term!! but it’s been an intriguing experiment so far, mostly because i think it is teaching me that many of the tasks i build up in my head as incredibly time-consuming are actually quite quick, and once you finish them you also free up all the mental energy you were putting into procrastinating on them, and are better able to move onto the next thing. i also feel like it is teaching me that uhh maybe a conscientious person is not like, a completely different species of human being, but just a person who has different habits or patterns of response to daily choices than i do. that feels important too: if we are what we repeatedly or habitually do, then changing what i habitually do can probably change the kind of person i am!   i’m finding that there’s something very useful about the simplicity of the question, too. deliberately posing the question to myself interrupts my habitual, unconscious response (which is always some version of “i don’t have the energy to deal with that / don’t want to expend that energy right now -- i’ll put it off till later”) -- it requires me to stop and focus my attention on the present situation instead of sliding right past it without thinking about it. and there’s also something quite satisfying about framing it as a choice or a decision: i get to choose what to do, ie i get to exercise agency, and exercising agency makes your brain feel happy (we like to feel in control! we like making choices!). so throughout the day i get to experience lots of little bursts of whatever gets released in the brain when you make a decision and immediately follow through with it, and i think/hope that this kind of positive reinforcement is helping to strengthen those circuits and lay down the groundwork for new patterns of habitual response. 

those are some thoughts this morning!! now i am going to allow myself a few minutes of sloth lol and then i’ll get up and exercise.

𝐶𝑙𝑜𝑠𝑒𝑑 𝐶ℎ𝑎𝑝𝑡𝑒𝑟𝑠 𝑎𝑛𝑑 𝑆𝑒𝑎𝑙𝑒𝑑 𝐿𝑒𝑡𝑡𝑒𝑟𝑠

Fandom: Open Heart

Pairing: Ethan Ramsey x f!mc (Charlotte West)

Word Count: 1.9k

A/N: Pretty angsty I guess.

Summary: When a lonely soul decides to spend her morning on a beach she is unpleasantly surprised to find that she isn’t alone and a lot has changed except her feelings.

Warnings: None

Taglist: @katkart122 @missmiimiie @maurine07 @custaroonie @romewritingshop @lucas-rennells @omgfheishot @schnitzelbutterfingers @openheartfanfics

A dreamy sea has a rhythmic pulse to it unmatched by any other part of nature. It forges its own sounds and kindles its own symphony as the waves crawl gently to the shore. Maybe that’s why she admired the Aruban beach so much or maybe it was the isolation of it all. Something she’d come to be so accustomed to. Her loneliness is like standing in the middle of a bustling city, watching people rush by without feeling like you're even remotely connected to them.

No, it's not the same as being alone; being alone is more a state of physical being than it is a state of soul and emotion. You're surrounded by all these people who never seem to truly understand you and who seem like they will never understand the fears and deepest thoughts that tug at your heart. It's not that they don't care about you or truly try to help you -- it's simply that feeling that they will never understand you, no matter how much you explain. It's that craving for love and connection beyond the surface level. Loneliness leads you to feel like you're literally watching the world go by, not part of anything in particular.

Being physically alone though on the beach was nothing new she had to say, but much to her displeasure she wasn’t alone. She spotted a figure in the distance much closer to the shore bare feet in the sand because washed by the gentle waters inching closer. The figure was tall and held a domineering stance and rigid posture she couldn’t shake.

He stood with his face up toward the sun as if taking in the rays of shine and simply basking in its warmth like a bath. He donned white shorts and a plain light blue short sleeved shirt just regular beach attire she shrugged off. He ran his hand through his tussle of chocolate brown curls and visibly breathed deeply taking in the silence quiet and free from disturbance but loud enough to be calming all the same.

It wasn’t until he turned around and they locked eyes from her sitting position did her grow wide and her posture go rigid did she realize this was no mere man or stranger on the beach at all. It was him. Her one that got away. The man that used to make her heart skip a beat with just a simple touch or look, the love of her life. The one that got away. After all this time he was still a part of her. She could still feel the way she beats nearly out of her chest at his mere presence and there’s a certain ache that still makes her feel like she is still in love with him.

For years he’d been the last thing on her mind before she went to sleep the reason for the teardrops on her pillow. Why even after all this time she hadn’t been able to get over him even after deciding to let him go which was the hardest thing she’d ever had to do. She tried to get rid of them, the memories, yet she still cannot, because those memories are so ebullient and hard to forget. They're still in her heart's chamber.

She wanted him to know so much, that she loved him. Still she did, her feelings were never a joke and that everytime she told him “I love you” way back when it came from the bottom of her heart. The moment she told him that his embrace made her feel so much comfortable and forget all her problems in life, yes she was honest with that. She was so honest for all the feelings she harbored deep inside. She cherished the moments shared and wouldn’t ever forget how she felt every time she was with him and all she’d put them through.

She wanted to go to him. Her heart told her to run into his arms and rekindle what they had once had but body stayed situated and stuck in place as she continued to stare at the once love of her life and the man she couldn’t ever seem to get over. That she still held a flame larger than life for. He sent a gentle smile but his eyes told a different story of love, so much love. But her happiness died disgustingly hard when realized he hadn’t seen her at all. Instead his attention had been directed behind her where his eyes alighted unfathomably bright at the sight of a woman and a small girl with a little brown dog.

The woman was absolutely stunning. She truly was what women paid to look like, if perfection didn’t exist she was an exception truthfully. Her tanned brown skin could’ve been glowing in the bright sun and beautiful features were highlighted stunningly by the carefree smile alighted on her face. As she held the smallest girl who took after her seeming to be mother exponentially. The girl held their mother’s golden brown complexion and dark curly hair but those eyes; they were unmistakably blue. A bright blue that resembled those indigo blues she knew all too well.

They were Ethan’s and the woman’s children. Her thoughts were only confirmed when the little girl wrestled her way out of her mother’s arms, raising a laugh from the woman as she ran into her fathers arms with the puppy trailing behind her. She hadn’t ever seen him look so happy and at peace. But when the woman made her way to him and hugged him from behind the way his face lit up was foreign to him; even in their time together she’d never made him look like that with just a simple hug.

He wasted no time in bringing her into his embrace and kissing her deeply, whispering sweet nothings into her ear, and being borderline affectionate. There was no doubt in her mind that Ethan Ramsey, a man who had no time for marriage or family loved the woman that donned a heavy diamond ring on her finger as he held it up and kissed each knuckle tenderly earning a moan of discontent from the little girls. It was adorable really they looked like a picture perfect family. What you’d see in movies really. Hell they even had a small dog with them that she hadn’t noticed till now.

It had finally hit her, she had to move on. She needed to let go of all that held her back: her love for a man who’d absolutely moved on, after all he was her first love. The very first love that she had experienced in her whole life. It felt melancholic for she had lost him. Maybe they were meant to spend the good times together, it’s just fate took its turn, she was able to hurt him and he did too and well she guessed that was inevitable. Then they parted ways and new beginnings came their way, you chose her over what a naive girl thought was forever kind of love. But it’s okay because she’ll get used to it. She promised herself and hopefully soon it’ll be without bitterness or anger.

Her therapist had told her some time ago before she left for the medical conference in Aruba that when she needed to get something out and she wasn’t available to try and write it out, in a letter of sorts. So she did just that and she wrote a goodbye later her lost love would never receive and not for him but for her. So she swiftly left the beach as undetected as when she arrived and made her way back inside the resort and found a pen and paper in her hotel room and got to writing. She wrote till her hand cramped and her tears stained the paper.

Dearest Ethan,

I wish you happiness love, even if that happiness doesn't include me anymore. It's just that I have to accept the fact that I was no longer a part of you and you of me. Thank you for everything. If I would be given a chance to get back from where we started I will still have that small talk with you in the hallway about her physics class we had together. I will still choose to fall in love with you because you're the best thing ever happened to me, maybe our bittersweet love story has ended after I’d hurt you the way I did. I thought the grass was greener on the other side and I was wrong but I found out all too late. But the last thing that I want to say is in another life I would be your girl so I don't have to say you were the one that got away. And I’m sorry not only to you but to myself...and Tobias.

Love,

Someone you used to know

As she sealed the letter she closed a chapter to her life that wouldn’t ever be opened again. And somehow she moved on. Ethan belonged to the beautiful with the brown skin and curly hair and somehow someway Suparna had to be okay with that. She wasn’t thinking when she sent the letter via bell boy to his room she only asked that it be deliverers to Dr. Ethan Ramsey and lied saying it regarded information about the medical conference he’d been invited to. And with that she went to her bed and fell into a restful sleep dreaming of what could’ve been.

————————————————————————————————

After an eventful day at the beach which was great until Charisma decided to put sand in Jenner’s fur. The act prompted the family to make their way back to the suite and give the girl and the pup a good bath before dinner which was much harder than it looked. Jenner was absolutely refusing and kept shaking his wet little sandy body as often as he could making the largest mess he possibly could. He had given up on chasing the three year old who’d decided that baths weren’t her thing and decided she’d rather run naked throughout the hotel room. Finally he’d washed and dried Jenner and put him in the dog bed with some toys to keep him busy. His love thankfully relieved him of his daddy duties and got Charisma ready for bed. A knock on the door interrupted his short reprieve that involved what he needed most at the moment a glass of scotch.

He answered the door and was met with a bellhop delivering him a letter that he took suspiciously wishing the boy a good night. He wasted no time in opening the letter and reading its contents that quite confused him. His thought process was soon interrupted by a warm hug from the love of his life as she placed her chin on his chest.

“Who’s it from?” She gently inquired. He only shook his head and shrugged in response. “No one important.”

“You okay?”

“Yeah I’m alright.” And with that he took his wife’s hand and couldn’t help but to admire the diamond ring that was just made for her and kissed her ring finger tenderly as he and Charlotte made their way to their daughters room to read her at least three stories before she finally turned in only to have her come in their bed later. But they wouldn’t have it any other way.

Jeong Tae-eul’s and Lee Gon’s choice of each other (fate and future) (Part 1)

Reading @ambitious-witch‘s meta about Tae-eul, her character arc and Luna as Tae-eul’s narrative foil I wanted to add something about Tae-eul decision to fully commit to her relationship to Lee Gon and why I believe they do get married in the future. If you haven’t read her meta I would recommend it. Of course people are free to interpret the ending as they want, but seeing people being sad or feeling dissatisfied with the ending I wanted to write some meta on why I believe Lee Gon and Tae-eul are implied in the drama to be getting married eventually. There is honestly quite a lot of clues that they will. The probably best meta I’ve read on the subject is from another blog which outlines these hints and is linked at the end of this post. I have also at different points referred to this meta with a *-sign, since I bring up some of the points made in it. It’s great, I would highly recommend reading it. I wanted however to bring up and examine some additional hints and foreshadowing I found during my latest re-watch. 

There is an scene (and its scene change) which foreshadows Tae-eul’s eventual decision to choose Lee Gon and a life with him. This scene particularly shows us Tae-eul’s desire to do so. In episode 11 we have JTE processing her and LG’s relationship. She thinks back to him visiting her from the future with the flowers early in the episode. As @ambitious-witch​ wrote it is no coincidence that the original flower scene itself takes place almost directly after Jo Yeong asks her if she could handle being the Queen of Corea (episode 10). He suggests to her that it would mean traveling between the worlds and keeping quiet about the existence of the other world (I would say that the writer is here probably foreshadowing what their happy ever after will actually entail - why else suggest it so specifically?). So what happens later in episode 11 as she is to processing the flower ‘event’ and thinking about their relationship? She thinks back to their conversation by the field where this exchange takes place:

She remembers this lovely moment by the field, where LG proposed (again, after she teased him about it) and she replied “Not today” while explaining that they have no tomorrow. She seems content and happy in that moment but then the scene switches to her standing alone in the Republic and she sighs clearly discontent with their current situation. The scene reveals a contrast in her. It is cut as to imply that Jeong Tae-eul is not as content as she seems to be with her decision by the field. I would say that it implies that she is putting on a brave face and attitude in that scene. Which given that bravery and ‘skipping things’ (which here is her embracing a ‘long today’) are character traits of hers (as seen in episodes six & eight) makes a lot of sense. (I would recommend that people go re-watch theses scenes since it is a bit difficult to show in pictures the revealing changes in JTE’s expressions as acted brilliantly by KGE). Unconsciously she has probably already made the decision to choose Lee Gon, as implied in her inner monologue earlier (while reflecting on the flower event) which chronologically however takes place later (the monologue not the unconscious decision), but she is here consciously ‘feeling’ that her earlier response/decision is not enough for her. 

Jeong Tae-eul’s decision by the field and her saying, while smiling bravely, that they have no tomorrow and that she therefore hopes that the day will be long is directly tied to Tae-eul’s sense of foreboding that their relationship will be short (remember her confession in episode eight?). She fears, as Lee Gon later does (ep 12-13) that setting everything right will mean that the doors will close and that they will be separated (that their love will come to an end). This is the fear they bring up time and time again during the drama. This is part of why she doesn’t say yes here (the other being about where she is in her character arc). When she believes she’s about to lose him she chooses to go after him, rejecting her earlier decision to accept that they have no tomorrow. 

Edit: The screenshots above are not showing exactly how and when the cut plays out. The scene at the field is longer and ends with Lee Gon running after Jeong Tae-eul. It then cuts to JTE back in the Republic remembering: the effect is however the same as what I’ve described. It was simply easier to show it though screenshots in the way I’ve done above. 

When the shows ends, flashing back to their young and current selves as it does so, the last words of the drama are:

Jeong Tae-eul & Lee Gon: Just like that, we decided to love the fate that chose us. Just for today and only today. And forever.

Telling us that the conflict of the drama has been resolved. Jeong Tae-eul and Lee Gon do not have to worry anymore about their relationship ending because they are from different worlds. The addition of ‘forever’ tells us that they won’t have to be simply happy with an uncertain fate living only for today because they don’t have tomorrows. The drama ends happily, with them having tomorrows. They do however still commit to living for today because, as they explain, they want to love each other tirelessly i.e. being grateful and appreciative of each other every day no matter what the future might bring (this is almost word-for-word what they say). An understandable sentiment in light of all the hardships they went through to simply be together. 

The ‘fate’ that ‘chose them’ - is each other

I feel that some people interpret it as meaning the fate of living in different worlds but I politely disagree. I believe this is the resolution of the earlier discussions about fate during the drama. Lee Gon has this scene with Prince Buyeong where he asks for advice on how to resolve his and Tae-eul’s situation. Chronologically this scene takes place after the scene by the window where Jeong Tae-eul told him that he shouldn’t ask her to go with him (while asking how she could leave her world behind). He is here trying to work out how they can be together, because it is his duty to marry eventually. So Lee Gon asks Prince Buyeong if he should fight fate (which seemingly is against his and Tae-eul’s union - since they are from different worlds). The Prince replies, after Lee Gon first admits to him that there is somewhere he wants to go (i.e. a fate he wants to achieve - i.e. a life with Jeong Tae-eul):

Prince Buyeong: Then you just have to go there. You don’t need to fight. I hope there is a beautiful lady there. You should really get married this year.

What is Prince Buyeong actually saying? He is saying that 1) Lee Gon can build his own fate i.e. he doesn’t have to fight fate to go where he wants to go 2) He foreshadows that Fate/FluteKid (the character/deity) of the drama is actually not against them being together (foreshadowing how Fate/FluteKid allows them to keep their memories) and 3) Indicates for the audience that whom Lee Gon marries is important (that it is an aspect of his fate and future) and is something which needs to be resolved. This is further confirmed by Lee Gon’s replies. This plot point, Lee Gon’s duty to marry, is resolved by him managing to restore the Manpasikjeok to its true self (no more time freezes) and by Jeong Tae-eul finally deciding that she chooses Lee Gon in that incredible episode 15 scene. Tae-eul’s real reason for telling him not to ask her to live with him is because she is worried at that point that the doors will eventually close forever. Meaning that she would have to give up her world completely. When push comes to shove however she decides despite this fact to go after him. Her putting on the necklace he gave her shows us her choice of him as her fate and future. Prince Buyeong described facing your fate as going where you want to go and here we have Jeong Tae-eul quite literally going after Lee Gon. This is a quite “typical” heroic move in these kinds of stories, we do more commonly see it done by the male hero though which is why I was happy seeing it done by a female hero here. 

The drama ends with Lee Gon keeping his promise to Prince Buyeong (albeit in a heartbreaking way since the Prince is definitely still dead) by visiting him in the past with Tae-eul. Like he said he would when their situation had been resolved (which it has since they have chosen each other i.e. become each others’ fates). Honestly I believe that the scene of Lee Gon ‘introducing’ Jeong Tae-eul to him and the scene of Tae-eul saying she doesn’t want to leave (by the obelisks) after one of their weekends are both hints that they will eventually get married.

Prince Buyeong and Jeong Tae-eul: to reach your fate is to reach your ‘destination’

Later in episode 15 after returning to Tae-eul Lee Gon remarks that even though time changed they still ended up in the same place. What does he need to do to change things? This refers partly to resolving the conflict against Lee Lim, but they are definitely also talking about their relationship as evident by how Tae-eul responds:

Jeong Tae-eul: The larger the fate, the more you need to walk to reach your destination.

Her word choice references Prince Buyeong’s indicating a connection. What can the connection be? Well, as we see later in the episode she decides to embrace her fate: to go after Lee Gon (for the purpose of reaching him i.e. embracing him as her fate). Lee Gon decides before everything goes down during the last Night of Treason that he will, if he survives, find (reach) her and go to her i.e. choosing her as his fate. He spends a year trying to reach her before succeeding. *To fulfill his fate as King he also needed to go far (back in time) to finally resolve the conflict with Lee Lim (I believe this was first pointed out by the bitchesoverdrama blog I’ve linked to below). This was however what Fate (the character/deity) tasked him with. His fate with Jeong Tae-eul is different and is something he and Tae-eul choose and create together. Plainly put, Prince Buyeong affirms the notion that we can create our own fates. That Lee Gon can do so, and we know from their discussion and his response that it is about whom he eventually marries. Meaning that even though Jeong Tae-eul is from another universe he can still marry her and that he does not have to fight fate to do so (there will be no danger of imbalance). At the end of Tae-eul’s character arc she chooses a life with Lee Gon. They have both embraced (created) their fates which they did by choosing and reaching each other. Lady Noh in episode 16 even hints (interesting to note that everything she prays for comes true - I was not the first to notice this but I cannot find who was) that they will probably get married next year by mentioning the Ancient Shrine*. Remember how it was first brought up by Lee Gon when Jeong Tae-eul asked him about the talisman in his wallet in episode two? This writer does a lot of great foreshadowing. 

Below I discuss the second flower scene, more about how the drama describes fate as your chosen person and share links to the meta I’ve referenced and other meta I would recommend. 

+ If you need more ‘proof’ that the fate which choose them is each other I would refer you to Tae-eul’s confession scene in episode eight. Her word choices are no coincidence. As she is looking directly at Lee Gon who is walking towards her she ponders about fate, which ends with her deciding to tell him that she loves him. Her inner monologue states that she has decided to love the fate which chose her. This fate is Lee Gon (as implied by the close-ups on his face as we are seeing him from her perspective since she’s thinking about him). 

Jeong Tae-eul: It took me a long time to realize this. When it’s fate, there are no coincidences. Your fate is determined by the choices you make, but there are times when your fate chooses you. 

Jeong Tae-eul: Things that are bound to happen are taking place even at this moment. I was struck by the sad premonition that this will be short-lived, but I decided to love my fate that choose me.

We learn later in the drama that the reason Lee Gon grew up with that ID-badge is because he let his younger self take it. It was his choice (time is changeable in TKEM he didn’t have to leave it). And in her brilliant confession Tae-eul brings up how choice and fate intersects as she chooses to love him. Choosing him as her fate as he has already chosen her. If fate is determined by the choices you make what happens when someone chooses you as their fate? This is the question she ponders and Tae-eul decides that she chooses to love the fate that chose her. Later she embraces him as her fate fully, when she goes after him. Answering his underlying question during the drama: Could she chose a life with him/Marry him? The drama ends with them looking at each other as they state that they have decided to love the fate which chose them. 

The ‘second’ flower scene and the necklace (speculating more freely)

+ Remember the second flower scene and the necklace? Lee Gon asked her what flowers she likes (in episode 12) while telling her he will wear the suit on a glorious day while giving her flowers (foreshadowing a ‘proper’ wedding proposal). Tae-eul even chided him, somewhat jokingly, earlier for not dressing up for his earlier proposal. Jeong Tae-eul is terrified at this moment however because she fears that he will becomes the devastated and tragic figure of the episode 10 scene. So she tells him that she hates flowers and later states that she will wear his necklace on a glorious day (i.e. ”not today”). She is letting fear of what the future will bring interfere. Lee Gon notices that something is wrong, by how she acts and probably because Tae-eul hating flowers is not very believable in the light of her buying and planting the Kingdom flowers earlier. She overcomes her fear (choosing to be brave) and decides to go after him in episode 15 (putting on the necklace). So what happens in episode 16? She is wearing his necklace with the Kingdom insignia. After their reunion he brings forth his beautiful blue flowers and asks her, almost slightly scared (does he remind you of someone nervous about to propose or is that just me?), if she still hates flowers. He is scared that she will reject him. This because he doesn’t yet know about her going after him at the end of episode 15. Her response? Telling him that she actually loves them (i.e. that she would love a life with him i.e that she accepts his implied proposal). In the books this is explicitly a proposal from what I’ve been told (the subtext made text if you will). Why else would Lee Gon be worried after their reunion and after she has kissed him? This last paragraph is perhaps me speculating a bit more freely but I do believe I get the emotional core right. 

But what about Tae-eul removing her fingerprints from the product placement item in Lee Gon’s room? I hear you ask, because you are an observant and beautiful person ;). Honestly? Pretty sure that is a last-minute product placement scene thrown in because it was obligatory. It simply makes the point that the mask is of “royal” quality and common (available) in Tae-eul’s (=our) world. Slightly more seriously though at this point Lee Gon and Tae-eul are simply enjoying the present and dating, doing so without thinking about the future. I will say more on this in my next meta. Later in the CCTV-room we also have Lee Gon struggling/failing to remove the footage of him and Tae-eul, a line which hints that they will not be able to keep their secret forever. It is no coincidence that this scene and line comes directly after the aforementioned product placement scene. Lee Gon and Tae-eul might be chillin’, taking their time and not really even thinking about the future but Fate/FluteKid and Lady Noh is not having it (haha read the linked meta below for more on this).

Link to a brilliant meta explaining the Ancient Shrine, LG’s responsibility to produce an heir, how an interesting scene in episode four relates to all this and how Fate/FluteKid (I personally still believe the Kid is of the Manpasikjeok though) is interfering making sure that LG’s and JTE’s relationship will eventually result in marriage and in the next protector of the Manpasikjeok: https://bitchesoverdramas.com/2020/06/16/the-king-ep-16-the-happy-ending/

Another great meta, which I read after writing this, but would highly recommend. It has a great take on why Tae-eul is so adamant about the fact that she and Lee Gon should focus on the present. It brings up how it ties to her worry about the future: https://bebebisous33analyses.wordpress.com/2020/06/01/time-the-invisible-main-character-in-the-king-eternal-monarch/

In my next post I will address the question of imbalance, doppelgangers and why I believe the show ended as it did. I’m not looking to convince people who like the idea of an open ending I just want to show why I believe the drama hints at them eventually getting married.

Release the Hounds {8/?}

Chapter 8:The Protector

Pairing: Persephone!Steve Rogers x Hades!Reader

Chapter Summary: In his solitude in the mortal world Steve has some questions for Bucky to help better his understanding of the rivalries that currently control his life.

Word Count: 3,200ish 

A/N: *warning talk of parental abuse hinted at and war and death are heavy in this one* this is dialogue heavy and a bit of a filler but it also gives a look at Hades as a character and some of her past work with the Olympians. I hope you guys enjoy!

Series Masterlist ~ Masterlist

It had only been a week or so since Steve had taken residence in Bucky and Rebecca’s apartment  and he was constantly anxious about was was happening in Olympus. 

Was his mother still looking for him? He didn’t dare leave to find out.

Was Hades welcomed onto the council? Bucky hadn’t told him and he didn’t feel the need to push for an answer. 

Was she okay? Had Demeter gone after her? He didn’t know.

Then his mind started drifting more. It’s amazing how much time one has to think and investigate the mysteries that walked beside them in their lives when they’ve got nothing better to do. 

Why did Demeter and Hades despise each other?

Why did Demeter hide Steve from so much?

What was Bucky talking about when he said he worked with Hades?

Why was Hades so against associating herself with him, she made her judges do her work when Steve was involved, it seemed everyone knew her or had had some interaction with her, even Bucky and Natasha. But Steve found things out through those she talked to. She didn’t return any more of his letters, she made a point not to go near him after she spoke to the Olympians. 

Did she not want him around? Did she think he was a pest, that he was annoying in his everlasting attempts to further get to know her and the Underworld? He was sure that wasn’t it, not after feeling her hand on his as he spoke for her. Not after she welcomed him, even though she immediately kicked him out afterwards she was somewhat nice about it. 

Steve knew there was more about Hades than he was being told. The only person who could answer those questions for him was Bucky. He was too scared to use the black Dahlia, if Demeter was still looking for him surely she would being trying to nose her way into the Underworld, and Hades said to use it if he needed her help. Technically, he didn’t, he was just curious, he just-well-he just wanted to know she was near by. Knowing she was just a petal away helped those feelings. 

When Bucky came to visit towards the end of the first week Steve was upfront about his question, he’d thought about how he would word it for two days now. 

“You once mentioned that you worked with Hades. How did that happen? I’ve been racking my brain around it but I just can’t come up with a scenario where you would work together or where she would have had any say on the council. During her speech, some of the twelve they-I just can’t stop thinking about it.” 

Bucky took a deep breath, he had a feeling this was coming, he had tried not to think about it, he thinks most of the twelve tried to forget. But you can’t bury the past, not this past. 

“I hadn’t really seen her, no one really had since - the time isn’t important, it was a very long time ago, back when the catholics were just starting out. Cassandra had gone to Hades with a warning. In turn she brought the warning to me to see if there was anything there. I shouldn’t have brushed her off as quickly as I did. I just, Cassandra gets under my skin, she and I, we don’t get along, I thought selfishly, I thought she was doing it do get back at me, I hadn’t seen anything. Then I realised, Cassandra had spent at least a thousand years in the Underworld at that point, it made sense that she was sensitive to prophecies concerning Hades herself.” He got lost in his tangent as he thought about the cold winters night that Hades came knocking on his door a millennia and some ago.

“Bucky, what are you talking about?” 

Cassandra wasn’t important this time though, that wasn’t what his question was about. Bucky brushed Steve off easily and his mind moved to the last time the business of the Underworld was also the business of Olympus.

“It doesn’t matter, just memories. The point is, I hadn’t seen Hades since the early 1200’s. Nobody even really saw her during World War I, I know Thor and Loki did, they worked together to bring an end to it. But World War II was different, it was longer, Hephaestus-Tony- got involved. Ares was on a tirade and Natasha almost killed him because of it.”

“I remember, I wasn’t even allowed to leave the gardens Demeter feared for all of our lives.”

“Sam, Wanda and Pietro were given a pass to sit in on the council. The Underworld was being overrun with souls, they couldn’t keep up with the foot traffic. Peter and Thanatos worked around the clock to bring souls in from the battlegrounds, most waited weeks before they got to Charon. As the years went by only one of the judges could come to the meetings because they just couldn’t afford to be away from the gates for that long. It was mostly Sam, he would have points from Hades to bring up, he kept us up to date with the number of deaths, she made a point to break it down into categories; soldiers, civilians, innocents, children, suicides…we all hated it but we knew why she was doing it.”

“She blamed you all.”

“She was right to, it was our fault for letting it go for so long, but not even Thor could get Ares to come back to Olympus, he was loving it too much, whispering in the ears of both sides by 1943.” Bucky tried to contain his anger, thinking about such a grim time made him angry knowing he could have stopped it, but as the god of prophet he knew better than any that some futures had to take place. “Demeter and a few of the other gods, Aphrodite, Hestia, Dionysus. They hated having Sam there, they thought that the issues of the Underworld were not important compared to what was happening to the living…”

“How could they think that?” Steve’s voice rose, he was getting angry at the gods, particularly his mother, he thought she was better than this, he thought she valued the soul. “What was happening to the living was causing the problems?!” 

“I know. You really want to know the last time she sat on the council? Steve telling you this, it’s one side, it’s one perspective. But from my understanding this is why Hades and Demeter despise each other. This is why Hades is hated and feared so much and for a long time I feared her too.”

“I want to know.”

“Steve-“

“I need to know Bucky. I feel so kept in the dark about everything. My mother is on a fucking tirade looking for me so she can skin me alive most likely and lock me in a tower just for talking about Hades. It isn’t fair for me not to know why I’m being punished.”

Bucky took another deep breath, if he was going to tell Steve about World War II he was going to tell him everything he knew and everything he felt. Steve was going to know what Bucky saw between Demeter and Hades. 

“The death rate got so high, it got so bad that Pietro had to help gather the souls. And as the story goes, Hades was on the ground of the Underworld at the gates helping along with everyone else. Until…June 1944. Ares got angry at Loki for siding with Athena and the Allies. He was getting sloppy.”

“Why was Ares so angry to begin with?”

“He lost the first war, he was still sulking and when he saw the rise of discontent in Germany he saw an opportunity to get back at Natasha. He just kept going I guess.” Bucky took a deep breath and ran his hands over his face. He hated reliving this. “After D-Day we sat again to try and figure out how to get Ares out of the frontline, she walked in, fuming. Millions of people had been swept to her gates, most of them without any sort of burial, the rivers were overflowing with lost souls. She yelled and I swear she was almost crying when she talked about how many would be lost from their families forever because of the pressure the administration was put under. Demeter tried to tell her to leave, she told Hades we were trying, that she was emotional and emotions were what got us into this mess. Demeter dismissed everything Hades said. So Hades stopped talking.” Bucky’s voice got quieter as he went on and watched it play out in his head again. 

“What did she do?”

“She…she flung Demeter into her throne, tied her there with mint that Demeter of all people couldn’t break. There was fire in her eyes and - I remember it so clearly,” he looked up from the floor to Steve, sorrow across his face, “what she told us before she walked out. ‘If I must, I will stop him.’ Then she walked out the door and it flew shut behind her, Demeter was let go and everythi-everthing was cold. After that we had our motivation to do whatever it was possible to stop the war.”

“And you stopped it. You put an end to the war, we all know the story of how the twelve Olympians went to the mortals and fought by their side until the war came to an end.” Steve had heard it so many times, it was the story the nymphs talked about the most, how the gods saved the day. It was one of the stories they taught the children at school. “They saved the humans, they’re heroes” they would whisper when they talked about it.

“It wasn’t us.” Bucky said and Steve had another lie to add to his list of things he’d been told by Demeter that weren’t true. Another crack in the foundation of his world.

“What?”

“The story is a little right but it leaves out a massive chunk of the truth. We did decide we needed to all be there, we went down, we fought in the frontlines, we stood by those in power and helped them as best we could but we weren’t fast enough for Hades. We thought we were dealing with the worst of the consequences, Demeter especially, the earth, it was so sad and nothing in the western world thrived during the war, her powers weren’t at their highest and she hated every second of it. But Hades had it much worse. Then the second atom bomb happened, and we all saw her again.”

“Hades was there?”

“We all were, we tried to stop it, I think even Ares didn’t want it. As it exploded, she stepped out of the smoke. Do you know how many people died from the bombing of Nagasaki?”

Steve didn’t know, he didn’t know any of the specifics of human history, just the fact that the gods took part in it more than the humans liked to admit. He shook his head, mumbled a ‘no’ and Bucky, he smiled slightly, he shook his head and said “of course you don’t, because it’s reason for Hades’ anger and Demeter wouldn’t want you thinking her anger was justified.”

“How many died Bucky?” Bucky was so angry, he felt like he did after the war, filled with anger, his body hot as he tightened his fists. He hated all of this more than anything. More than Troy, more than Carthage, more than the first war. World War II gave him the nightmares, seeing Hades in the midst of World War II gave him nightmares. 

“Over seventy thousand, after one hundred and fifty thousand three days before at Hiroshima. And as she rose through the smoke so did they.”

“She used the souls? But how?”

“She’s god of the dead Steve, she’s their queen, and she collected them all,” Bucky continued to tell Steve what he had witnessed and Steve sat there and saw it before him as Bucky spoke.

Hades was furious as soon as she felt it. She thought it was over after August 6. She thought that Hiroshima was the final blow that would end it all. But when she felt the deaths of thousands upon thousands again run through her she stopped in the middle of Asphodel and before Wanda could turn around Hades was gone. 

That day, in the midmorning sun, not visible to any eye through the unnatural clouds. Hades collected every soul in Nagasaki and to every one she told them the same thing.

“I will not let the gods fail you any longer.”

They pleaded for her to put an end to it, they pleaded for her to save their families, to save their people, for Japan, for the world. She listened to every single one and told them she would try her best. She was their protector now and she would protect them always. 

Then she rose. She rose from the dust into the clouds and as she did they shouted for her, they begged her not to leave them as Hermes and Thanatos helped take those that wanted to go to the river Styx. 

The ones that stayed, there must have been twenty odd thousand with her. They climbed her armour, they stood by her side and they said to her “we will protect you too.” 

She set them free, and they dragged Ares down to Tartarus. 

“She came face to face with Thor. Demeter and Hestia were crying and grieving for everything that had died in the explosion. We all tried to ignore the screaming for help from Ares as they pulled him down.” Bucky’s eyes were glazed over as he witnessed it again like he had many times before in his dreams. 

“I warned you Thor. The humans have gone too far. You can have Ares back after he is punished for the damage he has done.”

Thor knew she was right, Ares had to be punished and through his anger and disappointment in his son he knew that the best punisher would be those that he hurt. “Sixty years should do it.”

“Thank you.” She didn’t smile, she didn’t bother looking at the destruction around her, she’d seen enough of the destruction in her own home and as the souls retreated into the Underworld her powers went with them. So she followed her people, and she gave them the task of showing the god of war what he had done. 

“He looked so angry at himself for allowing any of this to happen. He’d never appeared so, so weak compared to Hades. She held all the power and none of us could believe it. Those lost souls, the ones that stayed with her to stand before Ares and Thor and the rest of us, they gave her their power and I’ll never understand why and I’ll never understand how she was able to gain their trust so quickly. But she did. There are rumours that she crept into the rooms of Japanese officials that night and made them listen to the pleading souls, some say she was the one that convinced them to surrender, that they needed to accept their defeat before they lost their nation. There are other rumours that she went to American politicians and told them there will be no winners if there is still war. All I know is that by September the war was over and it was thanks to Hades.”

Steve stayed still and quiet as Bucky finished. He took every word in and let it sit with him. The history books were wrong. That didn’t really surprise him when he thought about who fed him the history. It seemed Demeter had done nothing but lie to him to make herself appear as the hero. 

“Demeter didn’t tell you any of this because if you asked the right people you would have found out that she practically begged Thor to let Ares return to Olympus so she could punish him herself, she argued that she spoke for Gaia and the earth and that he needed to pay for all of the destruction he caused and that included that of the earth. Thor told her no, he told her she’d never punish Ares because her punishment was selfish no matter what was she said it. Hades didn’t lay a hand on Ares, neither did most of the souls that stood before him. Most of them told him stories of the war and he had to live it again and again through them.”

“How do you know this? Ares doesn’t talk to anyone about it, he’s only just started coming to meetings or to the market place.”

“And he sat front and centre at the debate. He faced his punishment and nobody fears Hades as much as Ares, but nobody in Olympus, except perhaps Thor and Loki, respect her as much as Ares does either. Anyway, he told me what he went through, said I needed to know because of uh, yea, he thought I just needed to know.” 

Because the god of war knew another war was coming and it would be much closer to home. He needed to know if Bucky, the god of prophecy had any inkling and when Bucky disclosed what he knew and which sides would be fighting Ares had a warning. “Hades will win this you know that right? She will refuse to fight, she will look as though she will lose but without raising a finger she’ll win. Pick your side now sun god and pick wisely.”

“Hades took away the one thing Demeter was angry at most. She still refuses to talk to him, Ares. She spent months, years even after the war taking it out on the nymphs and myself,” Steve leaned back into the seat. 

“I know Steve, I’m sorry-“

“No it’s okay, I took the brunt force of it, I wouldn’t let her hurt the nymphs. We all thought she was just stressed because there was still so much work. Its nice to have a proper reason now.” 

A reason. A justification for the rivalry between Hades and Demeter. Selfless vs selfish. A leader vs a tyrant. Belief vs belief. Demeter hated Hades for taking the victory, she hated her for doing what they couldn’t, she hated that she made them look weak. Most of all, Hades, in Demeter’s eyes was the reason for it all. Death started WWII, death ended it, death refused to let her punish Ares herself and Thor sided with Hades over his own.

Hades couldn’t stand Demeter’s selfishness, she couldn’t stand her ‘us vs them’ mentality. She didn’t agree with Demeter’s way of leading and in the back of her mind she knew that when spring was taken Demeter would come after Hades with an anger that no one could match. No one disregarded Hades as much as Demeter and to a woman who valued respect so much that was the last straw. 

Chapter Nine: Wait for Summertime

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I FOUND FREE TIME!! Sorry if this one is a bit rushed Jessie!!

Italics are memories

-----

The first thing a yellow side notices is that his head feels like its being split open. The second thing is that he's laying on a very soft couch. And the third? The third is that he doesn't remember anything.

He makes a slight noise of discontent before opening his eyes, only to have five people swarm him. Talking to him very fast and keep trying to touch him. He tries to curl up only to be unable to move.

One by one the colourful people back away only a dark blue person stayed by him. His lips keep moving but it all sounds like its underwater. Only to clear.

"-us, Janus! Can you hear us?"

His voice is raspy but he manages to respond, "Who's Janus?"

The people seemed to not like that answer, he didn't know why but making someone upset makes him feel like he's in danger, the indigo side didn't react that much.

"You are Janus, that is your name. Do you remember us?"

Janus shook his head.

"Well, I am Logan, Thomas's logic. The red side is Roman, one half of creativity. Green is Remus, the second half of creativity. The purple one is Virgil, he represents anxiety. And the light blue side is Patton. Thomas's morality.

Janus seemed to be taking the information in. Thinking about that one name he said... What was it? Timothy? Tobias? Travis?

"Do you remember Thomas?"

Janus had to stop and think. Thomas... Thomas was their centre. I'm one of his sides. Janus nodded

Logan handed Janus a glass of water, helping him take careful sips. The water felt like heaven, it was cool and soothing. But the heaven was gone soon enough.

"Do you remember your function?"

He squeezed his eyes shut trying to remember. "Deception?.....Or was it self preservation? I- I can't remember."

Logan had a small smile on his lips. "You are correct, your title is Deceit and your function is Self Preservation."

"Deceit... Isn't lying bad? Am I bad? Why does my head hurt?" Janus didn't notice the looks of pain on the others faces because they put those thoughts there.

Logan's smile disappeared. "No, you are not a bad side. You work for the good of Thomas. Why would you think that?"

"Because they told me so."

"Who?"

"..... I don't remember... They wore a lot of black."

"Do you mean the Dark Sides?"

A sharp gasp came from the yellow side. Blood, there is so much blood. Its my blood. Screaming. No, not screaming. Yelling. I'm running, the hallway is dark, the rug keeps triping me, my door lock is broken, I'm hiding... I can feel my breath.... The door to my room is open. Orange. I scream.

Janus is still screaming, he's trying to run but something is holding him down, he can feel someones breath. "Let me go! Please I'll do what you want!" he feels a slight sting in his arm before his eyes get blurry. The voices in the background get farther away as he feels himself involuntarily relax and fall back asleep.

Logan pulls the needle away as Roman, Remus and Virgil all let go of the sleeping side. Worry is blinding them as all of them walk into the kitchen to talk.

"The NopeRope doesn't remember anything. What do we do here?" Roman kept messing with his sash.

"His memory seems to come back with certain prompts or questions. However it seems to have a bad reaction-"

"A bad reaction? A BAD REACTION?? Logan, he was screaming for help while repeating the word no! That is more then JUST a bad reaction!!

Logan sighed, "Virgil, I know that you're worried about him but he does need to get his memory back."

"Does he?"

Everyone was now staring at Patton.

"I mean well, if he doesn't remember what the others put him through and what we put him through maybe he would be happier? He just looks to peaceful while he's asleep that I've never seen him have before."

"He will most likely remember anyway when he sees the scars, we can not hide this from him forever."

The kitchen was now an awkward silence. Until Remus broke it.

"How long till he wakes up, nerd?"

"Should be around 3 hou-"

"He'll be awake in five"

"What? Why five?"

"He's smaller then normal, plus he's not a full grown side yet, so-"

"What?" Patton didin't seem happy knowing that info.

Remus shugged, "he popped up in the gray when Thomas was ten, followed virgil around like a lost puppy next to a railroad. He just grew fangs a few months ago! I don't think they have venom though, bit of a shame. Everything is better with venom.-"

"Remus, getting off track here. Janus is the youngest?"

Remus nodded enthusiastically. "Yep" poping the P, "he was a cute little baby snake! Loved strawberries! The other three didn't like him very much though."

Patton was pressing his palms to his eye sockets. "they burned, beat and tried to kill a child?"

Remus nodded and looked to the ground.

The sides split up to go a few things before Janus woke up again.

When Janus opened his eyes all he could smell was strawberries. A song played in the background. He felt stronger and managed to sit up. He looked on the TV to see a frog singing the loveliest lies of them all.

"Vee! Vee!" Boucing up and down. "Can we watch Over The Garden Wall?" Virgil looked over at the shorter side. "You just watched it yesterday, short stack" even though the yellow side was 15 he still bounced and gave Virgil the puppy dog eyes. Virgil sighed, "Fine. Bring up the episode." trying and failing to sound annoyed. The smaller side smiled even wider.

"Vee?" Janus mumbled under his breathe the name. The side in the memory looked similar to...What was his name? VIRGIL! That was it! Was Vee Virgil? The snake zoned out in his thoughts and the song from the frog. Only to be brought out of it when a light blue side stood in front if him.

"Patton? That was your name right?"

"Yep! You got it in one mr scales!" Patton seemed nice, wait. Scales?

Get out of here you slimy boi! reptilian rapscallion! Snake! Evil! Villian! You are no good for Thomas! Just leave! Leave! LEAVE! LEAVE!

Janus lifted his hand and touched the left side of his face. Smooth scales greeted his hand and old burnt skin next to his eye. Tears started to leak for a reason he couldn't pin point. Continuously touching the scales, stoking over the sharp bottom of scales. Sooner then he thought someone was sitting next to him.

Patton sat next to him and was counting numbers.

1 2 3 4. 1 2 3 4 5 6 7. 1 2 3 4 5 6 7 8

Janus didn't know what the numbers where but he followed along anyway.

Soon he could smell the strawberries again. He likes strawberries right? Janus thinks he likes strawberries. When he looks up, Patton gives him a hug. Wincing when his arms touch something on his back.

More and more time passes. With each memory things get clearer. Janus still doesn't know why he can't remember anything. Until another memory happens.

"WILL YOU PLEASE JUST SHUT UP?" " No! Roman I want to apologize! I'm sorry I compared you to your brother! I'm sorry I manipulated you at the courtroom! I'm sorry I sent Remus to deal with my problems! You don't have to forgive me but ay least listen to me!" Roman growls "FUCK OFF!!" And suddenly, he is back at the dark household.

He needs to get out before the others find him. Who knows what they would do to h- "Ohhh Deceit! So lovely for you to stop by~" Too late.

He runs to his room, tripping on the carpet. The lock is broken. He hides in the closet. Wrath finds him. He's dragged to the dark side commons and chained to a wall for days to become the personal punching bad. Apathy set him on fire, Wrath beat him up and Depression.... Depression did something to his head. He was thrown into the gray after depression had his fun. Then he blacked out

Janus doesn't want to leave his room. He's being punished for wanting to apologize. That seems like bullshit to him.

Weeks pass. People keep knocking on his door, they say that they're worried. What a bunch of liars.

After a month, the sides make Thomas take them inside if the bedroom. After a bit of convincing, Janus tells them everything.

And much to his surprise. They are livid.

------

Beep boop. Thingy done! I hope this thing made sense! Brain is broken atm. This one was inspired by Once Upon a December from Anastasia.

This turned out a lot more fluffy then I originally thought.... Hope ya like it! I need to go write a poem now ❤💛❤

protcetive sides alert! yeah! may i say that this is some quality content? im running out of things to say wihout repeating myself but they are all just so amazing and normaly leave me with energy to write stuff. (sorry im responding to these now, i was asleep when i got them last night and consumed by school fr the past few hours...)

Leon x fem!reader: A Recollection

Prompt: “I’m sorry.... But I don’t remember you”

Word count: 5812

Alrighty. This is finally done. I took forever to finish it cuz um I’m slow and also I didn’t know how I would properly finish it. But now I have. So yeah. Hope ya’ll enjoy :)

~~~~~~

She had arrived in Wydon on a particularly cloudy day. A fresh coat of rain layered over the streets as people scurried through the town. Pokemon could be seen casually following in their owner’s wake. With the bustling about, and the splatter of water, (name) stood outside of the train station, looking around in wonder. She had never been in Wyndon before, seeing as it was a city she never visited when she was younger. She noted the stadium, the lovely way it looked like a rose. Then, she saw the hotel, all the way across the town, the clock tower seen in all of its glory. She smiled, and walked down the entrance. There, she saw a man and woman standing, waiting. They looked to her, the man smiling as he stopped twisting the longer piece of his hair. He walked towards her, extending his hand.

“Ah! You must be (name), am I right? I’m Rose, the League Chairman of Galar,” he said. (Name) took his hand, shaking it with a smile.

“Nice to meet you sir.”

“I hope your trip was alright?” he asked, referring to the large suitcase in her hands.

“Oh! Yes. It was very nice. Galar is so beautiful!”

“I’m glad you think so. Oleana, do you mind grabbing her luggage?” 

The woman beside him nodded, her face emotionless as she stepped toward (name).

“Oh, haha, no, it’s alright sir. I can --”

“But, I insist! Plus, Oleana is more than happy with carrying your stuff, isn’t that right?” Rose says, waving his hand offhandedly as he starts to walk. (Name) looks to Oleana, who nods, and quickly takes the luggage from her hands. A look of confusion is plastered on (name)’s face, but she shrugs off the peculiar relationship between the two, and walks after Rose, falling in step with him as they head to the hotel.

“So, have you ever visited Galar before?” he asks in an attempt at small talk. They pass a few buildings, which home the many people that live in Wyndon.

“Well, yes of course. I actually used to live here,” she replies, looking around as she speaks.

“Really? Well isn’t that exciting. You must be happy to be back,” he says. 

“Oh yes. I haven’t been here in years. I’ve missed it so much,” she sighs, looking to him. His face is neutral, a look of disinterest as opposed to the enthusiastic way he sounded. She’s silent for a bit, taking in the scenery as she ignores the discomfort of the Chairman’s company. His demeanor was welcoming, but gave off the feeling that this was just a chore. Something he didn’t need to do. “I thought the Champion would be here too.”

He doesn’t reply immediately, seeming as if other things are on his mind. A nudge from Oleana can be seen and he snaps into a jovial mood. 

“OH! Yes, he was, but alas he had family business to attend to.”

“Ah, I see…” she nods in understanding. A strong silence is placed in the air as they finish their walk to the hotel, Rose stopping at the entrance to turn to (name), his seemingly fake enthusiasm emerging again.

“Well! Here we are! The Rose of the Rondelands Hotel! It’s quite the elegant one, if I do say so myself,” he says, with a grand gesture to the large hotel in front of them. Just saying the name brings about a glow to him that hadn’t been expressed at all during their short time together. 

“It is rather lovely,” (name) agrees, hoping her approval will spark something other than discontent with the Chairman.

“Yes, it is,” he seemingly sighs. Then, he perks up and his usual business-like expression re-emerges onto his features. “Well, this seems to be the end of our tour!”

It wasn’t much of a tour.

“I guess I’ll leave you here. You can get settled in just fine, am I correct?” he asks with a sickeningly sweet smile.

“Oh… um… yes. I’m sure I can handle myself,” she replies with an uneasy nod. She glances at the large building again, feeling a bit discontent with his “helpfulness”. 

“Wonderful! Then, I’ll have Oleana return your luggage,” he says, nodding to the woman who (name) completely forgot about due to her silence. She steps forward, handing over the suitcase’s handle, the slightest tinge of relief and annoyance etched onto her stoic features. She steps back beside Rose, who beams at (name).

“Well, I guess this is where I take my leave, my dear,” he says, with a bow of his head. He turns to leave but soon stops in his wake to utter one final remark. “Oh! And Leon will definitely be here to accompany your trip around Galar soon enough. In fact, I messaged him just as you arrived, telling him not to keep you waiting for too long.”

“Oh, haha, you didn’t have to tell him that,” (Name) says, feeling bad for the Champion who has to deal with such a seemingly demanding Chairman. “I mean, he can take as much time as he needs!”

Rose chuckles in response. 

“Of course. Well, now this is the final time I will bid thee farewell. Good evening (name)!”  

And with a final wave of his hand, the Chairman walks away, seemingly heading to what Galar uses as a “flying taxi” system. 

“Right… Yes…” (name) mutters to no one in particular. She looks around, noting that no one is around, and shakes her head, as she heads up the stairs into the elegant foyer of the hotel. 

~~~

By the next two days, (name) had had it with Wyndon and the people of Galar. How could she be stuck in a hotel since her arrival? Why hadn’t the Champion been the one to whisk her away instead of that iffy Chairman? Her brain was jumbled with questions, annoyance and frustration entering her system as she paced inside her room. 

The hotel was extremely lavish, including everything a five star hotel should. Even her room was far too much, her own suite accompanied an entirely different room for a kitchen, and a bathroom that had its own spa-like bathtub. A shelf above lined with different soaps and scents to richly bathe in was also included, which wasn’t something she would much complain about, but found much too extravagant. Even the bedroom was over the top, the bed itself having a curtained canopy bed frame, with so many pillows that one could drown in. Now, she herself thought the suite was amazing, but as she was only one person, with rather small pokemon to accompany her, she found she missed the quaint hotels she usually stayed in when she traveled across the Regions. And her annoyance with Galar’s lushness didn’t help due to the fact she had yet to actually see any of it because of the Champion’s utter slowness to get to her. Perhaps she was being selfish, but he knew of her whereabouts and didn’t seem to put her as priority.   

And so, with a swift plop onto the nearest chair, she pulled out her Rotom phone, just about to dial the Chairman to give him a piece of her mind, when a sudden knock was heard from the door. She tilted her head as she stared at it, wondering if it would sound again, when yet another, much louder rap was heard on the wood. She stood, adjusted her outfit as needed, and headed to open it. With a click of the lock and a twist of the knob, the door opened, revealing a man she had never imagined she would have ever seen again.

“Lee?” she said, an astounded look on her face as she gawked at him. He looked rather different, with his hair much longer, and the mature stature of his face and form, but she could tell, this was the Leon she had known so long ago.

“Um… Hello? Are you (name)?” he asked, a confused look on his face as he responded to the unauthorized use of his nickname.

“Oh! Haha, yes! That’s me! (Name)!” she laughed nervously. Why was she all of a sudden so apprehensive to speak to him? Was his reaction not what she expected? She remembered him, but was it not a reciprocated remembrance?

“Uh… So, I’m so sorry to have kept you waiting here for so long. I’m sure Rose told you I had family business to attend to, but I really wanted to meet you when you got here! And um… mind if I come in?” he asks.

“Yes! Um, of course! How silly of me not to offer…” she mentally slapped herself as she opened the door wider. He entered with a grateful smile, walking over to the quaint living room and taking a seat on the sofa. She followed tenaciously, not understanding the confusion she was feeling.

“So, have you gone out to explore Wydon?” he asks in an attempt at small talk.

“Yes! I did actually. The-uh-the stadium is lovely.”

“Yeah! It really is!” he laughs. 

A silence emerges as they both grasp for something to say. 

“Want anything to drink?” she asks in a final attempt to keep the conversation from being dead.

“Yeah, uh, water would be nice?”

“Is that a question?” she quips, in an attempt at humor.

The move was not very effective.

“No! I mean if it’s too much trouble, I don’t want you to go out of your--”

“I was joking! It’s no problem at all…”

And to think things couldn’t get more awkward.

“Why did you call me ‘Lee’ when you opened the door?”

And yet they can. 

She froze from her spot at the fridge, her arm in midair as she was about to grab a water bottle. She quickly wracked her brain for an answer, but didn’t really know how to word it correctly, herself standing as she responded.

“O-oh, well I mean, I know you I guess.”

That didn’t come out the way she wanted.

“You know me?”

She could sense the raising of an eyebrow from his tone.

“Well, I don’t know-you-know-you per se… but I did…”

She turns to walk back to him, her suspicions about the raised eyebrow looking correct.

“You did?”

This conversation was getting worse by the second.

“You know what? Let’s just forget I even said---”

“No continue, you have me intrigued.”

She sighs.

“Well, I mean…” --Just ask it (name), there’s no going back now-- “Don’t you remember me?”

“Well, wouldn’t you think I would when I first saw you?”

“So… then you don’t…”

“I’m sorry… but I really don’t remember you.”

She sighs again in disappointment.

“Yeah… I figured you wouldn’t. It would be a long shot if you would have remembered me, seeing as we were so young when we met…”

A new look of curiosity enters his face.

“Young?”

“Yeah. We were just nine or ten I think. You and I would always hang out… don’t you remember that? And we would battle all the time…” she chuckles, “... and you would always win, with that awesome Charmander of yours. Do you still have him?”

He nods, patting the pokeball strapped to his waste.

“Ah. He must be such a big one now huh? A Charzard right?”

He nods again. There’s a look in his eyes that she can’t quite read, but she dismisses it and continues on with her explanation.

“Anyway, I guess since I moved away after you became the Champion, you forgot about me huh?”

This takes him aback. A newfound form of defense rising in his system.

“Wait a minute. You can’t just say that!”

“What?”

“That I ‘just forgot about you’ because I ‘became the Champion.’” he says, his defensive side on full blast as he uses air quotes to emphasize his disagreement. “I don’t even know you! And if I did, a friend would never assume that! If anything, it sure does sound like you were jealous of me if you can accuse me of that so easily.”

She scoffs with an offended shake of her head.

“Excuse me? I would never be jealous! I never was!”

“Then why don’t I remember you? Why didn’t you ever stay in contact with me if we were ‘such great friends!?’”

The air quotations used made that phrase sting, it piercing a wounded nerve that never fully healed in her heart.

“I never stayed in contact with you!? You can’t even remember! You don’t know SHIT!”

“Then enlighten me, oh knowledgeable one! Because your story isn’t turning out very believable.”

She stared at him, not able to process what to say. The pain in her heart resurfaced, something she hoped would never happen again. She knew she tried. Oh she tried so hard to remain friends with the boy who became Champion at such a young age. She wrote to him as often as possible. Replies only existed on occasions, and even then they were short and unmoving. So of course, soon enough, all efforts to keep a friendship afloat was thrown overboard. What would one expect from a pair of ten year olds with short attention spans? Not that he had one. No. His was the excuse of being constantly busy. Matches being forced upon a young boy. Exposure to the media. Instant fame. All the features that would keep someone busy. And of course, that forced the end to anything they could have possessed. The only way was for the one reaching out to stop all hopes. To learn to grow up. And to perhaps do so at the same rate that he endured.  

She looked down at the floor, face filled with disappointment. Perhaps there was no convincing someone of a lost friendship.

“I’m sorry. I… I made it up. So, much for a first impression I guess,” she tried, a smile forced upon her lips as she looked up. He stared at her, eyebrows knit together. How could she just say things like that? There was obviously something she needed to convince him of. To end all efforts meant she was truly making it up, or her nerves were all too much. He softened, sitting up and clearing his throat.

“I-it’s fine. Uh…” he didn’t know how to continue further. It was too much now. The mood was ruined. There was too much of a tension in the air for either of them to speak. 

They sat there, with a silence so thick neither felt like they could breath. Suddenly, she stood. She cleared her throat, and went to her room. He stared after her, dumbfounded. What was he supposed to do now? Was he supposed to apologize as well? He felt a pang of guilt, but he wasn’t sure of what for. He bit his lip, confusion filling his system. He also stood, placing a hand on his forehead. Perhaps it wouldn’t be right for him to accompany her across Galar after all. With one last glance to the room she disappeared into, he walked to the door, and opened it. He was just about to step out when he heard her voice.

“You’re leaving?”

He turned back.

“I thought you wouldn’t want me here anym--”

“No! I-I’m sorry… I was just gathering… my… stuff…” she said, eyes shifting to the side as she revealed her suitcase. He stared at her, yet again, with an inaudible “oh” escaping his lips. Silence resurfaced.

“You still want me to… help you out?” he asked, his hand rubbing at the back of his neck.

Oh, how much more awkward this has become.

“Well, I mean I waited for you this long.”

He looked up at her, seeing she was trying her best to lighten the mood. He nodded, his own attempt at a smile showing on his face. 

“Let’s go then,” he said, opening the door wider, allowing her to walk through first. Oh how interesting of an adventure this would be. 

~~~~~

To say things got better… would be a massive disappointment. The air about them was now always filled with a tinge of discomfort, neither knowing how to address the other’s obvious feelings. They traveled in silence, both on their phones doing nothing in particular, but looking as if they were busy to stifle any form of conversation. It wasn’t until they entered Wedgehurst Station that anything interesting was said.

 “Wow… it’s a lot smaller than I remember,” (Name) said, slowly turning to take in the sights all around her. “But much more beautiful.”

“Yeah. It really is,” Leon said, nodding in agreement as he himself looked around at the 

rolling fields that made up the small town. He stopped for a moment, then looked at her. “You’ve… been here?”

“Yeah, of course,” she replied, not once taking her eyes off of the fields. “I used to live here.”

He was taken aback by this. Was she really telling the truth about knowing him when he was young? He looked at her, watching her reaction as she longingly stared at the scene around them. It wasn’t long until a crowd formed however, the people finally noticing the Champion was in their midst. 

“Leon!”

“We’ve missed you!”

“It’s great to see you here!”

All this and more could be heard coming from the people surrounding him. His face broke out into a smile, greeting the people as if they were friends. She watched this, noticing his change in mood like a flick of a switch. To think he could so easily go from a serious face to something with so much eagerness to please with just a call of his name.

She moved to the side, watching as he greeted everyone, each person getting their time with their beloved Champion. The crowd soon grew smaller, until a single boy stood in front of him, the widest grin placed on his face.

“Lee!” the boy exclaimed. He looked oddly familiar, with the same colored locks and the same sparkle of golden eyes as the man in front of him. Leon chuckled, ruffling the boy’s hair as he pulled him into a hug. 

“Hop! What’s up mate? How’ve you been?” 

“LEEee! I literally just saw you a few days ago! But, I’ve been fine. I’m glad you're here! Did you take the person around Galar like you said you would?” the boy asked, looking up to his brother.

“Uh-huh. Actually she’s here right now,” Leon said, whispering the last bit into the younger’s ear.

Hop looked around, spotting (name) quickly as he beamed at her. She waved, her own attempt at a smile aimed at the boy who looked ever so much like Leon. 

��Hi! I’m Hop! You must be (name)!” he exclaimed, walking over and taking out his hand to shake.

“Aha, yes. That's me,” she replied, taking his hand in her own. 

“Lee’s told me all about you! You must have so many pokemon as someone who travels around the Regions often! Seen any rare ones?! How many do you have?! Can I see them!?” he exclaims. His enthusiasm is nice, but just the way he looks so much like his brother makes her tense. She doesn’t know how to respond, that is until Leon places a hand on the bouncing boy’s shoulder.  

“Haha. Alright Hop, let’s give her a break. You can ask her all about her Pokemon when we get settled at home.” -- the boy opens his mouth again, but Leon beats him to it -- “and after we eat dinner.”

Hop looks as if he physically deflates, his enthusiasm replaced with a glum look. It quickly returns, however, as he insists to take her luggage. She couldn’t say no, so she allowed him to do so. He soon starts running as he calls back he’ll beat the two to the house. Leon shakes his head at his overly hyper brother, (name) letting out a snicker as she watches him do so.

“What?” he asks, enjoying the fact that she is amused.

“Nothing,” she says, starting to walk in the direction that Hop went. He followed, wanting to start a conversation after such a long silence they both endured. 

“So… how long ago did you move away from Wedgehurst?” 

The question surprises her.

“Oh… well it was quite a long time ago. I would say… around 17 years?” she replies, a thoughtful look on her face as she tries to recall the exact time. “I don’t remember much. It was definitely a lot different…”

She trails off, not knowing what else to say. 

“Uh… yeah! I mean, um, when I was younger this place definitely wasn’t as lively as it is now… I mean, I guess that’s because everyone knows that this is my hometown…”  

“Ah. I see.”

The awkward silence is placed yet again. He wished he could figure out what else to say but he truly was at a loss of words. How to talk to her after such a blunder the first time they spoke was confounding to him. He just wanted to fix the relationship they never had. Or so he thought.

Nearing his parents house, (name) grew even more uneasy. It looked exactly the same as she remembered, the place she had visited oh-so-many times. Why did he have to forget her? It would make things all the worse if his parents were able to remember and not him. She stopped in her tracks, shaking her head as she stared down at the floor. 

“What’s wrong?” 

She heard him, but didn’t care to listen to his obvious sound of concern. She didn’t want anything to do with another situation that would lead to his utter confusion. The fact he didn’t remember hurt all too much, but if his parents could and he could not? It would cause all the more heartache. And so, with a swift turn, she ran. She had no idea where she would go, but as long as she didn’t have to step inside that house, everything would definitely be all the better.

Leon, however, didn’t know how to react. Her sudden exit was not what he was expecting, and he had no clue how he would comfort her now. He knew she was hurt. Knew that her story of a lost friendship was becoming all the more real as he learned more about her. He glanced at the door, only inches away, but knew leaving her alone would never be of help to her. In a final seconds decision, he quickly ran after her, only able to see her retreating form heading for the Slumbering Weald.

~~~~

How he found her, he had no idea. As someone who was terrible with directions, Leon finally found her sitting alone on an extremely old looking swing. The trees surrounding left the slightest gleam of light enter through the leaves, illuminating her hair and back. She hadn’t yet noticed him, but the sound of sniffles could be heard. 

SNAP

Her head flung up, turning to Leon as he slowly lifted his gaze from the twig he just stepped on. His eyes were wide, but softened as he noticed her features blotched with red, and tearstained. He stepped towards her, but stopped when she turned away.

“Why’re you here?” she asked, head bowed as a tinge of venom escaped her lips. He gulped, but continued to walk towards her, ‘till his figure towered over her sunken form.

“I wanted to know that you were okay…”

“You don’t need to. I’m fine, so you can just leave,” her hand waved him off, eyes still not meeting his own.

At this point, he didn’t know what to say. What was the point of following her when he knew she didn’t want him to be around? He sighed, placing a hand at the back of his head as he ran his fingers through his hair. What to do… What to do… he wondered to himself, and finally took in the scene around him. 

This patch of opening in the forest was something that seemed familiar to him. A place he remembered stumbling upon on his own when he was young. He had no idea how he made it there, but recalled returning whenever he wanted to be alone. Then he remembered the slightest of detail that made him turn to her ever so quickly. 

“How did you know about this place?” he asked, a sense of hope in his voice as he started to understand.

“I… I stumbled upon it when I was young… It was my--”

“Quiet place?” he finished. She raised her head again, turning to stare at him in wonder.

“Yes… it was…”

“I used to come here too. You know, when I just wanted to get away.”

A moment's flash, and the recollection of a girl sitting on this exact swing entered his mind.   

“Could-could you tell me more about how we met?”

The sudden question made her stare at him even more, confusion falling over her as he looked back into her glossy eyes. She gulped.

“Why do you want to know? I thought you didn’t care.”

He cringes at her words, his brows creasing as he looks to the floor.

“No never. I-I do care…” he looked back up to her to finish, “just tell me. Please?”

Her eyes searched his, moving over his features to see if there was any falter in what looked like sincerity. She found none. She sighed.

“I first met you when I was what? Maybe 9? 10--?”

“When? Where?”

She tilted her head, looking at him in disapproval from his interruption. He sheepishly looked away in his embarrassment from eagerness. She sighed again.

“I was on my way here actually, when I could hear the softest voice speaking in the woods ahead. In fact, in the place where I was headed. I was careful. Quiet. And then, I saw you with your charmander, speaking to it in the most loving way a ten-year-old could speak to something. It looked hurt from what I could tell, but you were comforting it in such a way, I wanted to know what you were saying. So I stepped out. I guess I had made too much noise because you immediately looked up. Which also drew the attention of your pokemon.”

Leon looked at her with such an intensity, trying to search his mind's eye of any recollection of an event like this. She continued, ignoring his strong gaze.

“It got scared, from what I saw, and you yourself seemed pretty startled. I mean, you hid the poor thing from me, as if I hadn’t seen it already. I didn’t dare step closer, only because I didn’t want you or it to go anywhere. Not like you could… but still….

“I tried talking to you. I was an extremely shy child back then, so just allowing myself a ‘hello’ took a bit of courage to say. I walked closer, and crouched just in front of you, each of us just staring at the other, not knowing what to say. At this point you had a curious look in your eyes, as if you wanted to say something, perhaps to ask how I ended up in your secret place…. Our secret place. And just as I was about to ask who you were, your charmander ran up to me, taking a defensive turn to try and protect you. I of course got scared, myself not owning a pokemon of my own and not sure of how I was supposed to defend myself. So, I ran. And that’s how we met.”

She stopped her story, blinking at Leon as he shook his head in confusion.

“That’s it!?”

“Yeah.”

“That’s how we met?” he sounded incredulous.

“Mmhm.”

“Then how exactly did we become friends?”

“Well that’s the question now, isn’t it?”

“Well I am asking it.”

She laughed.

“Okay, fine. Next time we met, I thought I would be sure to be here,” -- she motioned to the spot they were in -- “before you. So, I would come everyday, the same time I remembered you being here. I went everyday for weeks, and one day, I realized perhaps I would never get to see the golden eyed boy with the feisty charmander. So here I was, sitting on this exact swing, thinking to myself, when I heard steps. I looked up, and woah and behold, you were there.”

His eyes widen at this revelation.

“I remember this!”

“Huh?” 

He nods vigorously now, another flood of memory entering his mind as he jumps back.

“Yes! I do! I remember you, sitting right there! In my spot! And I remember I got so mad that --”

“That you challenged me to a pokemon battle?” she intervened, a blossom of hope entering her eyes as she eagerly sat up.

“Yeah! And I remember, I remember you just stared at me. You stared with those big… pretty... eyes… and gave me that look of utter confusion… and wonder… and….” he trailed off, looking at her the same way he did as a little boy. He always thought she was pretty, even as a young lad. He remembered how her eyes sparkled when she tilted her head, not understanding his sudden attempt at a challenge. And how he remembered his contempt when she told him she had no pokemon of her own to battle with. And then, he remembered his own wonder, at how in the world this girl could have no pokemon of her own to love and to hold. 

He looked at her for a few moments longer, her face expressing the same emotion he just described, waiting for him to continue. He smiled and went on. 

“And I gave up when you told me you had no pokemon. Instead, I found it was my duty to help you get one of your own, so that we could battle and I could regain my spot for my own… but that didn’t happen now did it?”

She shook her head.

“We decided to share it,” she replied.

Leon smiled even wider than before.

“Yeah. We did.”

There was a long pause in the air. A silence that had risen between them yet again, but this time something that was welcomed and not filled with awkwardness or discomfort.

“So… you do remember?” she asked, standing from her seat on the swing, but holding onto the rope that held it up.

“Yeah. I do.”

And then his happiness turned to sadness as he recalled the rest of the story.

“I remember you telling me right before my challenge with the champion that you were leaving. That you were moving away from Galar and probably never coming back. And I remember getting so mad at you. Mad and sad. And it was because of those feelings that I was able to beat the Champion. But it was also that feeling that caused me to push you away.”

She gasped, looking into his golden eyes as she herself recalled the betrayal felt when her only friend started to push her away.

“I-I thought that since you were leaving, it would be best to just not talk to you anymore. And since I was the new Champion, it made it all the more easier. So when you left… it didn’t make a difference to me… because I was already prepared to forget about ever seeing you…”

She looked to the ground, his honesty hurting her more than he could imagine. 

So her attempts at mending their friendship was futile after all. It wasn’t because his Champion duties took away his time. It was because he truly did not care. And with this can of worms opened, it only made the heartache hurt more. 

A sniff, and then her eyes welled with tears, herself biting her lip in an attempt at trying not to cry. Her attempts betrayed her when he said more.

“I remember you sending me letters now. I read each one. And all they did was rekindle the fire of sadness that was in my ten year old heart. All I wanted was for my friend to be there with me along the way. To be of help when I needed you. So that’s why, I don’t remember. You leaving hurt me so much, that I guess I must have pushed the very thought of you away.”

And then the floodgates broke. A sob exited her lips as she covered her mouth, and with that one sound, she was engulfed into his arms. He held her as she cried, caressing her hair in attempts to comfort her. He let her cry as much as she wanted, because he knew this was what she needed. A way to help cope with her feelings after such a long time of remembering such a heartache. When there were no tears left to cry, she leaned back in his arms. Looking into her tearstained face, one last question entered his mind.

“Why didn’t you just forget me? Why keep this inside of you for so long?”

She didn’t look into his eyes, but had an unfocused stare that she placed on his chest.

“I guess it’s because you meant so much to me. You were practically my first friend. The person who caught me my first pokemon. Who challenged me to so many pokemon battles that always ended in your success. The only one that I enjoyed spending time with because you were so fun to be around. I guess that’s why. Knowing you could so easily forget is the reason why it hurt so much. Because I cared so much.”

He nodded, not knowing what to say. Instead he lifted her chin, forcing her to look him in the eyes. They stayed like this for a few moments, then he smiled.

“Geez, I’m glad I got to meet you again. Maybe it wasn’t in the best way to rekindle our friendship, but it was definitely the most interesting. The question is, are you alright with forgiving me for being such a dummy for so long?”

She giggled as she wrapped her arms around him again. 

“Of course I am,” she said, her head resting on his chest.

“Good. I’m glad.”

They finally let go of each other, a new air about them as they sighed in relief.

“So, ready to get back to my place?”

“Yes. Definitely.”

“Think you could lead the way? I get lost easily…”

She laughed in response, placing a hand on his shoulder as she shook her head.

“Yeah. Sure. Come on you forgetful man,” she laughed as she walked back through the trees.

“Hey! I’m not that forgetful!” 

“Haha okay bud.”

“I’m serious!”

And so, perhaps her trip back to Galar wasn’t as bad as she thought it would be, now that things were out in the open and everything was alright with Lee.

Day 8

10 Days (Jumin Han x Reader)

You didn't expect to find yourself locked in an engagement to Chairman Han, but with your own mother forcing you into it, you have no way of denying her. But as time continues and things change, you begin to develop affections for your fiance's son: Jumin Han. But the sad truth is that there's nothing either of you can do to stop the marriage, and you only have these 10 days before your future becomes reality. 10 days with Jumin Han.

Day 1 | Day 2 | Day 3 | Day 4 | Day 5 | Day 6 | Day 7 | Day 8 | Day 9 | Day 10 | ✔

MASTERLIST

Mornings with Jumin are peaceful. They're slow, longlasting, and calm as the two of you both shake off the blanket of sleep that had kept you cozy all night.

The water of the shower is warm as it hits your body, Jumin's gentle hands even warmer as he helps you wash—but for the first time, he settles for just that. An innocent kiss on your shoulder, before shampoo washes it off. A subtle cup of your rear, as he slides his hand down with the water, before letting his hand glide back up to your back. A tender moment where he rests his forehead atop yours, before pulling back and running his hands through your hair to feel the lingering softness induced by the conditioner.

It's intimate without the intimacy. Closeness without togetherness. Love without overt expression, but presently there nonetheless.

The two of you don't speak, content with merely enjoying each other's company, and as you exit Jumin's private bathroom, you can't help but think that this is the type of morning you want to live out for the rest of your life.

In truth, the thought would probably weigh heavily on your mind all morning, as you try to force thoughts of Chairman Han—and how he's stealing that potential life from you—to the back of your mind, but another distraction serves the purpose altogether.

"Elizabeth!" You exclaim in surprise, prompting Jumin to poke his head into the bedroom. "What are you doing on the bed, sweetie?" You ask her, crawling back onto the sheets to stroke her lovely fur. The blanket is still warm with the memory of your bodies.

"Hm, she's not used to sleeping without me," Jumin muses, returning to bed with you. You instantly relax when his arms wrap around you, sandwiching your body between him and Elizabeth as she purrs into his hands. "I suppose she missed the bed."

She won't need to worry about that for much longer, you can't help but think. The fact that tomorrow is the final day before your wedding to Chairman Han is something that you haven't been able to forget for even a second. But for the sake of preserving the morning atmosphere of tranquility, you keep the thought to yourself.

"What a princess," You respond, smiling. "Ah! Jumin, her fur is going to get caught in my hair! I just showered!"

You groan, suddenly remembering just how much this snowy angel sheds. You can already see the white hairs sticking to your wet, (h/c) hair, and you try to gather your hair in a fist to push it behind you when Jumin's nonchalance stops you.

"What's wrong with a little fur?" He nuzzles your neck. You can feel him close his eyes, and in this position, both of you so comfortably spread out on the bed, you can tell that he's being pulled back into the comfortable arms of slumber.

"Jumin, I can feel you falling asleep on me," You warn.

"Hm" is his dismissive response as he rests his head atop yours. You contemplate letting the ravenhead sleep for a few more hours—you certainly wouldn't mind being wrapped in his arms like this, it's so cozy—but you ultimately decide against it.

"Jumin~" You coo, turning around to face him. He twitches when you stir in his arms, but apart from that, he looks like he's already dozing.

A devilish grin crosses your face.

You reach back, squeezing your hair into your palm. You hadn't taken the time to dry it properly, so a significant amount of water collects on the surface of your palm—enough for Elizabeth to meow in discontent when some drips onto her nose, but you ignore her. "Jumin," You repeat, giving the man one final chance. When he doesn't respond, you abandon mercy. "Oh, you're just asking for it now."

You bring your hand forward, keeping it enclosed in a fist until the palm is directly in front of the man's face. Jumin looks so innocent when he sleeps. So cute, so still, so serene. But you don't regret bursting your hand open, the momentum of the movement forcing a small rain of water down on Jumin's face.

The look of utter disbelief on his face is precious.

"(Y/N)!" He exclaims, eyes wide open now. You pull Elizabeth onto your chest as a shield as Jumin stares at you with eyes narrowed in mock anger. "Why on earth would you—"

You silence the man with a kiss, leaning back once more to savor his expression. Truly, you have the man in the palm of your hand, able to make him flustered or needy or pacified with a single action.

"I like it better when you're awake," You say with a light giggle, smiling at the pink dusting that covers Jumin's cheeks. He doesn't usually get embarrassed, but when you catch him off-guard, he still shows you his more vulnerable side.

"You could have just asked," He responds, returning the kiss. He brings one hand up to play with your hair, turning it into a makeshift pillow for the wet locks, all while stroking Elizabeth with his other hand. It's almost amusing to see him providing you both equal affection, but you suppose that's a part of his charm.

You close your eyes, bringing your hands up to drape loosely around Jumin's neck. Like him, you let your fingers play with his damp hair, wondering how he manages to keep it so soft. As usual, though, his lips take you away from your thoughts, until all that's left in your mind is him.

"I love this," He confesses after a moment. "Just you, me, and Elizabeth. I want things to be like this for the rest of our..."

You silence Jumin once more with a kiss, this time a knowing look flashing between the two of you. "There's no point in thinking about the future," You finally murmur. "All we can do is enjoy the present."

"Does it have to end?" He asks, his tone somewhat broken. Jumin keeps his eyes closed as he rests his forehead against yours, and you're grateful. You're not sure you'd be able to bear witnessing that storm of emotion whirl through his steely grey eyes again. Not when you're the cause of all that inner turmoil.

"My heart will always be here," You respond. "With you. With Elizabeth. With that painting we did yesterday. With these memories."

Jumin pauses for a while, finally opening his eyes so he can stare into yours.

"I want you to be happy," He admits. "But no matter what, neither of us gets a happy ending. If your heart stays with me...then your marriage will be miserable. But if you do manage to find happiness in my father's arms..." You hear a slight tremble in Jumin's words. His next words come in a whisper. "I don't know what I'd do with myself."

"Don't think about that," You respond instantly. "I...I could never, Jumin. Only with you."

Jumin sighs.

"You're sure about devoting your heart to a relationship that can never be?"

You nod.

Between you two, Elizabeth meows as if she understands the weight of your words.

"I will not let you down," Jumin promises. He reaches back to pull the hand you have buried in his hair, tenderly bringing it forward so that he can lay a tender kiss across the knuckles. "If you give your heart to me, then I give mine to you as well. Forever."

You giggle.

"It'll truly be something," You murmur. "A relationship without physical relations."

"The first relationship of its kind." Jumin smiles, going on to utter the words that you'd thought of yourself not twenty minutes ago in the shower. "Intimate without the intimacy."

Instinctively, you continue his phrase: "Closeness without togetherness."

Jumin nods, kissing you.

"Love without expression."

It's the best you can hope for.

MASTERLIST

Day 1 | Day 2 | Day 3 | Day 4 | Day 5 | Day 6 | Day 7 | Day 8 | Day 9 | Day 10 |  ✔

Word count: 1.3k

Notes: I wanted to include some final fluff before the angst hits :( 

Comment & Like

Next Update: 5/13/20

I do not own the rights to Mystic Messenger or any of the characters within it.

Our time is now.

When I looked into the eyes of the eighteen year old man who had somehow aged thirty eight years in what seemed like ten, I saw life in them again. His face sagged a little now and his eyes were framed with crows feet, furrowed lines decorated his forehead, but he was still Miles. I hoped I was still just Yuna when he looked at me. 

No one told us when we were all mixed up with feelings of new love, eager to start a family that our younger years would escape us. I ask often how thirty eight years seemed to pass by me even as I remember living them, but then I think of the constant loop of morning and night routines; egg and toast breakfasts, dashing off to school and work with little to no spontaneity in between. I remember countless birthdays and holidays that kind of blurred together by this time. We were so happy each year to just do the same things just hoping the stability would create a good foundation for our girl. We were at all of her events. There were track meets and ballet recitals—both talents of my one, very versatile, child. We’d only had the one kid but she was going to make sure she kept me busy enough that I’d never have to wonder what life was like with two. I remember the moment I’d gone from maiden to mother. I’d waited on the operating table—my husband by my side—for what felt like too long to finally hold her. She gave them hell when she was out and the fierce cry never stopped. That is until they placed her bundled body in my arms and I spoke to her for the first time saying, “Mama’s here,” in a hushed tone, cancelling her cry in its midst, but igniting mine. Of all my fantasies of her, I’d never imagined her this perfect. Miles was a teary mess. I knew that from now on we were both on the same mission. Sometimes the details differed, but simply put: Naya.

The feeling of change was sensational that day. Like the butterfly effect; one single moment in the present that would change the course of our lives. I could feel it as it happened, as the story changed based off this unique event, but still…no one told us that the next five years would be the most brutal years of toddlerhood—that we would wrack our brains trying to understand her—and that the ten after that would be spent trying to convince her that not only did she not know everything, she knew absolutely nothing. No one told us that as we focused on bringing our child up in the way that she should go, we might completely lose ourselves. In turn, we would lose each other. Because if they had, maybe would have waited. But then, if we knew then what we know now, perhaps she would never have happened at all; most young people wouldn’t choose suffering willingly.

The first five years were full of trial and as if parenting wasn’t enough of a relationship strain, Miles was still getting his business off the ground. By the time Naya was off to college, miles could have been a couch to me. Our marriage was that dead. Obviously, there were times when things seemed to spark again, but focus would soon shift back to our responsibilities. When Naya had our grandson, our responsibilities became being grandparents and helping our daughter keep her dreams alive. I mean, we’d done well for ourselves. Bought a bungalow in Sulani before Naya even graduated from the university, miles’ business constructing engines for aircrafts had taken off to heights no one ever imagined, and we raised a damned fine woman, but there was no love in our living room for a long time.

One day, though, I woke up and didn’t feel completely void of energy. I didn’t feel like my chest was going to cave in from discontent. I looked over at my sleeping husband and noticed that he’d kept in good shape. His skin was still the prettiest brown I’d laid eyes on. He never did fully gray. He was still so handsome, still Miles. We were old as hell and I couldn’t, in detail, explain to you how that happened, but I was done being robbed of soul shattering, groundbreaking, passionate love. I tugged at his arm, willing him to face me. Before he could come to, I rushed him with a kiss. It was the kind of kiss that returned all the years we’d given away.

Our time is now, I decided.

In the recent years, I lived more life than than the fifty that preceded me. I danced in my kitchen with a delicious chocolate man, I swam with dolphins in the clear salt water that surrounded our island, and sex—really, really good sex in front of a fire was a common occurrence. I had found joy in the smallest things, like being a plant mom. The type of peace I was living in could only be described as Nirvana, and with whatever time I had left, I knew I could say I’ve lived well.

“Yuni,” his deep voice carried, interrupting my thoughts. His forehead rested against mine and he looked into my eyes for a second, sort of initiating a connection between us. He pulled me in for a tight hug and I wondered what was in his head. Pulling back he looked down and a small breath of a laugh came from him. he seemed pleased with whatever he had come up with.

 “Marry me?”

I laughed at what seemed like a joke, but he didn’t break his gaze even a little bit. 

“I asked you to marry me when we were young and we promised through sickness and health, for richer, for poor, and we promised forever, right?”

“uh-huh…”

“we’ve done all that now. And I meant it, to the best of my ability when I told you forever, but today i’m a man made of a million experiences, so when I offer you forever this time, I offer you a forever full of effort. I retract my forever that meant simply existing in the same world indefinitely and replace it with the intention of filling our golden years with life, loving you, Yuna, with all that I have left until it carries over into a Universe where you’re someone else and i’m…I don’t know…your dog or something,” I smiled big. “Baby, marry me again.”

[Epilogue 1 of townie backstories. ]

Spinaraki Week, Day 1: Fantasy

I didn’t intend for this to get so D&D so fast, but then Mr. Compress started talking about different types of summoning spells and there was no going back.  

League of Villains, D&D-style!  Featuring a few other familiar faces as well.

———–      ———–      ———–      ———–

It’s been a dozen hallways and more individual rooms of creeping around, checking their guesswork map, resting and recharging where they can.  Between Toga’s shapeshifting, Sako’s near-endless bag of tricks, and Dabi’s ability to roast small fry to death before they can even scream a warning, they managed to sneak past almost all of the temple guardians—and then they hit the atrium.

Sunlight bathes the room, streaming in through a huge circular skylight in the roof.  There might have been glass in it once, to keep out the elements, but if so, it’s long gone now, and nature’s well on its way to taking back the space. Vines spill across the floor and climb up every wall, dotted with bursts of flowers, their petals a vivid but not entirely natural shade of midnight blue.  Little copses of fuller growth dot the room here and there, scrubby cypress trees and coastal pines spreading over islands of grass.  Tumbled chunks of masonry dot the floor, gradually being overtaken by the expanding green.  There’s a grandeur to it, though probably, Spinner thinks, slanting a glance over at Shigaraki, the original owner would disagree.

The League enters the room in a cautious, well-practiced formation.  Toga takes point, clever eyes cataloging potential dangers ahead even as she turns in place, clearly admiring the view.  Shigaraki’s right behind, stepping over the vines, an out of place black-clad figure amidst all the green.  His head, still covered by his raised hood, turns this way and that, taking in the surroundings.  Dabi and Sako keep close to each other in the middle, the former eyeing the plant life with his usual derision, the latter tipping back his hat to examine the skylight as he lets out a low whistle.  Spinner keeps watch at the back, his sword out and ready.  

“Sako, Toga—thoughts?” Shigaraki asks, voice pitched low.

“Vines could make spotting traps harder,” Toga opines, “but they could be choking some mechanisms, too.  I don’t know; this feels like a fight-a-big-monster space to me, but I don’t see anything.”  

“It’s likely intended as a place to address one’s followers,” Sako chips in.  “I should think if it were going to be turned into an impromptu arena, the ‘big monsters’ would be summoned in from extra-planar regions. Though I suppose if All for One made a habit of mauling guests, we mustn’t rule out holding chambers attached to the room.”

“Harder to see those through the vines, too.”

“Would anything like that even be alive still?” Spinner ventures, eyes tracking along the long curve of the wall.

“If they were natural beasts, almost certainly not,” Sako answers.  “But that’s a rather large ‘if’ to be betting on, given the circumstances, wouldn’t you say?”

“Summoned things,” Shigaraki says before Spinner can respond.  He peels his hood back, revealing a pinched, narrow-eyed expression.  “What good would those do with no one to give ‘em directions? Would they even fight us?”

“It would be fairly simple to imbue such prepared spells with basic directives like, ‘Defend the chamber’ or ‘Attack anyone who doesn’t meet such-and-such criteria,’ so likely so.” Sako rolls his focus stone from one nimble hand to the other, back and forth, the movement of clear blue glass near-silent on the rich—if somewhat faded and damp-stained—silk of his sleeves.  “And definitely so when we consider the possibility of, oh, the sorts of binding spells that extract favors from higher agents that needn’t be immediately discharged.”

“Those don’t last forever,” Shigaraki says dismissively.  He pauses, considers, then retracts with, “At least, not if they were cast before.  But the guardians could be using their own, these days.  They could just recast when they need to.”

“A somewhat resource-consuming process, but possible,” Sako allows.  

“So what’s the verdict, Boss?”  Dabi twirls a lick of his signature azure flame around his fingers.  “Around the edges or straight through?”

Shigaraki considers it for another few seconds, glancing around the room and up to the ceiling again.  

“We’ll skirt around the skylight, just in case,” he says finally, “but otherwise, straight through.  If something’s gonna jump us in here, I wanna see it coming.”  

“Still traumatized by that time with the living wall, Tomura?” Toga teases, ignoring the scowls she gets from Dabi and Spinner.  Shigaraki just gives her an unimpressed look, at which she titters and sets out in front of the group, hopping lightly over the sprawls of roots and uneven stonework.  The group falls in behind her.

Spinner brings up the rear, clenching and unclenching his grip around the hilts of his swords.  They’ve been at this for hours now, and the casters are starting to run low—they’re got their standbys and a few more pull-out-all-the-stops type spells before they’re spent.  With Magne and Jin both back at camp, he’s the closest thing to muscle this group’s got, and while it’s definitely a stealthier affair all around without Jin’s cross-grained rambling and Magne’s…  Well, between the chainmail shirt, the shawm, and the lively banter, there’s a lot to miss about Magne, but right now, stepping away from the reassuring solidity of the wall and out into the open air, what Spinner definitely misses most is her strong arm.  The back rank feels empty without her, and it’s got him nervy.  

They progress across the room, gusts of a warm breeze soughing in from the skylight.  Spinner—who spent most of his youth clambering around the woods—focuses on keeping an eye out, with the others distracted by keeping their footing. He doesn’t fully trust the flowers. Wild magic can have really weird effects on local plant life—you find that out quick enough, being in a party with Dabi—and by all accounts, the magic at the heart of this place is something else.  Still, a room full to bursting with fragrant climbing not-quite-lilies in a color that would have a weaver’s guild breaking down the front doors is…  It just wouldn’t have been his first guess for “expected outcome of long-term coexistence with a demonic arcane relic.”

Or whatever it is they’re here to secure.  That’s what Spinner got out of Shigaraki’s explanation, and that much only after Sako helped their leader translate his latest dark-omens-and-portents dream courtesy of his “patron.”  He’s pretty confident about it, anyway, and Shigaraki’s confidence is—well, infectious, if worth second-guessing him on from time to time.  

The second-guessing is what he’s thinking about when the vines burst out of the ground at the head of the group.  

Shigaraki and Toga jerk sideways with a grunt and a muffled shriek, wooden branches wrapping around their limbs, thickening with supernatural speed; between them, something like one of the cypress trees blooms out of the ground, a riot of prehensile limbs growing off of a central mass, dotted with those damn flowers.  A helm-shaped head lifts out of the wood and twists around to face them, a yellow glow emanating from within hollowed out spaces where a normal creature would have eyes.

“It’s some sort of elemental!” Sako calls as Spinner bolts forward, to which Toga groans in frustration, “Ugh, I hate elementals!”  

“Wait—a wood elemental? You’re kidding, right?” Dabi laughs around a leer and steps forward, fire blazing up in a leaping, living spiral from his hands.  The tree thing’s gaze flashes over to him and it falls back in a hurry, dragging Toga and Shigaraki along with it.  Its head cranes up towards the distant ceiling and it shouts something in Primordial.

Spinner’s heart sinks at what’s clearly a rally for backup, then drops even lower when a shadow falls over the room.  A sound like the thrum of dragon’s wingbeat reverberates through the air from above as something huge eclipses across the skylight.

“It was a really nice day out,” a woman’s voice booms in complaint.  “Why can’t we ever get tomb raiders on rainy days?”

“Scatter!” Shigaraki barks out just as the giantess drops through the skylight.

She cracks the floor when she lands, the weight of her rocking the whole room, even the echoes painfully loud. Sako sways wildly but keeps his feet, but Dabi goes over, flames guttering.  Spinner throws himself into a sideways roll, jarring his shoulder but coming up back up clear of her reach.  The wood elemental hasn’t noticed yet, but Toga catches his eyes and widely, exaggeratedly mouths, Door, at him before tossing her head towards the far wall.  

Spinner follows her glance and sees it—there’s no visible sign of doors, but there, on the wall directly across from the entrance, vines have grown around something, a space of ordered, even lines amidst the natural misrule of the rest of the growth.  He can guess at her train of thought: get the door open, regroup, fall back—the outline suggests the entrance is big, but not stone giant big, and the wood elemental won’t stand a chance once Dabi gets his act together. The big patches of grass everywhere offer pretty decent camouflage, if Spinner keeps his profile low—it wouldn’t be hard to slip over there while the flashier members of the group run distraction.

And then he looks back at Shigaraki, pitching and struggling in the wood elemental’s other arm, his writhing fingers unable to find purchase on the lacquered prison, and Spinner’s halfway to closing the distance before he even consciously makes the decision.

Toga makes a sound like a discontented puma, half-annoyed yowl and half-heavy sigh, wheezing from the grip of the snare.  She twists like an eel, too fluid for something with the usual humanoid skeletal structure, and drops to the floor, free hand coming up fast with a vial of acid in her hands.  The elemental makes another swipe at her, and, when she arches away from the rushing leaves, turns abruptly, glowing eyes landing on Spinner as he charges in.

Elementals don’t have the usual humanoid structure, either—because nothing in Spinner’s life can ever be easy—and that means pretty much any spot’s as good as the next with them.  Still, something with a slashing edge seems a better bet than a sharp point, so Spinner sheathes his short sword in favor of tightening up a double-handed grip on his longsword. He brings it down with all the force he can muster on the wooden bough stretching out of the thing’s main mass and entangling Shigaraki.  The sound of breaking glass heralds Toga striking true on the thing’s other side, and the elemental groans and creaks.  

A whiff of smoke finds Spinner’s nose a split-second before the familiar thunderclap sound of flame blossoming into existence in previously empty air finds his ears.  The whole battlefield changes hues as a column of fire erupts in the center of the room, so tall it clears the skylight.  The giantess screams, in rage as much as pain, and for just a second, the wood elemental looks away, head angling backwards in concern.

Shigaraki finally gets an arm free and twists his fingers around a spell gesture.  He spits out a snake-nest of a sentence, all tight cadence and sibilants, and on the last word, reaches back in to lock his hand around a branch holding him.  The elemental cries out, louder this time, and shudders from trunk to tip; twigs snap loose, leaves brown and twist and fall in a sudden autumnal rain.  In the gouge opened up by Spinner’s blade, wooden flesh dries from bright new green to splintering, sawdust yellow.  

Been doing this long enough to know an opening when I see one, Spinner thinks, yanks his sword free, and drives it in again with an angry grunt.  The branches spasm and Shigaraki squirms free at last, dropping into a crouch and scrambling backward.  

“Get to the door,” he growls, and when Spinner starts to protest, overrides him with, “That giant’s making enough racket to wake the dead.  We can handle these two—we can’t handle the whole damn temple’s-worth of backup.  We need to get it open and get the hell out of here.”

“Loud and clear!” Toga chirps and taps one foot on the floor in a quick 2-1-1 pattern before sprinting away.

Spinner nods and falls back before the elemental can gather itself up for another one of those grapples—he doesn’t have Toga’s dexterity, or even Shigaraki’s.  But the elemental draws back as well, casting its gaze across the three of them in quick succession before in folds in on itself and vanishes into the foliage littered across the floor.  

“What’s it—”

“We’ll know when it does it. Door.”  

“Right.”  Spinner’s glances over to where Toga’s already nearly to the far wall, unhindered by the overgrowth.  Navigating the plant life, that’s a simple enough thing for him, too, but Shigaraki…  

“It’ll be faster this way,” he says aloud and, before Shigaraki can protest, scoops him up around the waist and clear off his feet.

Shigaraki snorts but doesn’t fight him, instead taking the opportunity to prop himself over Spinner’s shoulder and fire off a sizzling purple energy blast.  There’s an indignant shriek from the giantess and Spinner redoubles his speed.  Giants have a mean arm when provoked, and he’s got no interest in getting turned into a smear of plant food courtesy of a hurled chunk of masonry—and looking back on it, all the loose boulders around should probably have been a clue.

“Dabi, Sako—fall in!” Shigaraki yells at the kind of volume he hardly ever uses.  

Seconds later, up ahead of them, Dabi and Sako blink into existence by the doors just as they shudder their way open, trailing vines like streamers, filling the hall with the scrape of stone on stone.  

“Just charge through,” Shigaraki mutters to him, throwing off another round of attacks.  

“I don’t think so!” the giantess thunders, and a boulder goes sailing past over Spinner’s head. He sees the trajectory of it—giants have a mean and accurate arm when provoked—and hisses in dismay.  

“Hold on!”  He tightens his grip on Shigaraki and hunkers down in his next two steps, propelling himself into a leap just as the boulder crashes into the wall above the doors.

The next few seconds are a blur of noise and billowing dust and Shigaraki’s face pressed against the side of Spinner’s neck, body tripwire-taut in his arms, and then pain dashed like sea spray across the back of his head, and he barely registers botching the landing as he tumbles into unconsciousness.

     ———–      

He comes to in darkness so total he almost doesn’t expect his hand to move when he goes to pat at his eyes, anticipating bindings, a blindfold, anything but what actually happens, which is whacking himself in the face with a completely unrestrained hand.  

“Good, you’re up,” comes Shigaraki’s voice.  “Come on; we need to keep moving before that giant decides to start excavating.”  His hands wrap unerringly around Spinner’s and tug; obediently, Spinner gets his feet under him and helps Shigaraki help him up.

Why the hell doesn’t someone have a torch lit yet? is his first thought, as he gingerly reaches up to prod at the lump behind one ear.  

“Wait, wait; I can’t see an inch in front of my face,” he complains as Shigaraki tries to get them walking, stopping in place.  

“Yeah.  Magic darkness spells do that,” Shigaraki responds tartly.

“What, are we out of dispels already?”  Spinner turns his head, and it finally penetrates, how quiet it is.  No other voices but his own and Shigaraki’s—no Dabi with a cantrip and a sarcastic remark, no nattering from Toga or Sako.  “Oh, hell, did we get split up?”  

“Yeah.  And before you ask, there’s wards up, so no one’s teleporting in here after us.  We couldn’t even get a Sending through.”

“So we’re just—going on without them?”  His voice sounds suddenly small in the dark; Shigaraki’s hands bob once around his.

“No choice,” he answers.  “Situation’s the same as it was before—if they can’t come through with magic, they can’t wait around out there for the rest of the guard to show up.  We’ll meet ‘em back at camp after I get what I’m after.”

“So we’re just—walking down this hallway in the dark.”  Did you learn how to find traps when I wasn’t paying attention?  Spinner can’t bring himself to say the last part out loud.

“You’re walking down this hallway in the dark.  I can see just fine.”  Shigaraki gives him another sharp jerk and this time, reluctantly, Spinner allows himself to be pulled along.  

“Aren’t you worried about traps?” he manages.  He pats at his waist, finding first his short sword, then his longsword, which Shigaraki must have resheathed while he was out.  He draws it for the small comfort it affords him to have a weapon ready to hand.

A thoughtful silence follows the question.  Shigaraki’s footsteps are even and measured; the floor underfoot, despite Spinner’s hindbrain screaming about deadfalls, remains solid and level.  

“…Shigaraki?” he finally prompts. Of all the times for Shigaraki to get into one of his remote moods.

“No.” Shigaraki’s voice floats back at last.  “This is a strong darkness.  And the path branches a lot.  I think it’s a test, not a trap, and I’ve been dreaming about the answers for months. We’ll get what we’re after or we won’t, but either way, we’re almost there.”

So they press on.  

The farther along they get, the more Spinner’s skin crawls at the feel of the air—colder sometimes, then warmer, air currents that smell rank with rot caressing over his face and leaving him shuddering.  Shigaraki pauses, now and again, to steer them around hazards he doesn’t explain.  Once, Spinner steps on something that pops under his feet—for a second, his blood runs frigid and he nearly panics, waiting for a dart or a drop or something, and then his ear catches up with his brain and tells him, Just a bone, that’s all.  As if that’s more reassuring.  

Shigaraki hums under his breath, distracted, and tugs them onwards.

It’s not like it’s the first time Spinner’s had to deal with magical darkness.  It’s not the first temple he’s gone through.  Not the first time he had to follow someone on faith, either, though more often that’s been Toga, chipperly going on about pressure plates and sliding stones and false floors.  But before, it’s only lasted for a few seconds.  As long as it takes for Sako to dispel it, for Dabi to light up something stronger, for Shigaraki—who sees in the dark like he was born in it, and whose eyes glow brilliant red in even natural darkness—to pinpoint the caster and reel off one of his eldritch blasts that can knock the wind out of pretty much anyone.

It hasn’t been like this. Seconds stretching into minutes in sable air so thick it crawls against his scales, muffling the sound of their footsteps and all but swallowing the periodic mumble from Shigaraki, whose voice is so low Spinner can’t even tell if he’s speaking Common or that witchtongue he casts in.  

It’s like being buried, he thinks, and has to swallow back bile, squeezing Shigaraki’s hand tighter.  But the image doesn’t leave him as the air presses in: each breath another spadeful of dirt strewn over a grave.  Each step another stone piled on a cairn.

“That’s starting to hurt, Spinner.”  The voice crashes over him in a cold wave and he gasps at the shock of it despite himself. “You never said you were afraid of the dark.”

“Don’t be an asshole,” Spinner chokes out, voice hoarse.  “This isn’t regular dark and you know it.”

Does he, though?  The thought arrives in his head like a stranger. Does he even know the difference between real dark and this?  

With only Shigaraki’s hand to tether him to reality, Spinner almost can’t identify the thought as his own, wonders for a second if it might not be, but if there’s something in here with them projecting thoughts into his head, they’re in even more trouble than he guessed.

Shigaraki hums in an unconvinced—and really unhelpful—sort of way, and suddenly stops.  

“Ah.”  

Spinner gargles a questioning noise and Shigaraki’s voice returns, flat and affectless.  

“Found it.  Up ahead.”  He walks forward purposefully and Spinner follows, teeth gritted, focusing on believing, really believing, in the existence of a level and unobstructed floor.  

They walk for longer than Spinner would think it necessary for something in range of Shigaraki’s darkvision.   He can see farther in the dark than he can in the light, Toga told him once, laughing, and seeing as Shigaraki was just a regular human and not some kind of nocturnal or subterranean creature, Spinner had written it off.  Now the words come back with a mocking edge.  

Finally, Shigaraki lifts their hands, bringing them to a stop.  A pause, then his fingers rap across Spinner’s knuckles.  “Need this back now.”

Spinner does not whine a protest—his throat’s way too locked up for that.  Still, it takes a minute of internal browbeating to force himself to unclench his claws.  They’re standing in front of something now; he can feel the nearness of it, maybe from how Shigaraki’s voice sounded bouncing off of it.  A big new barrier that they have to figure out, and there’s no reason for them to split up now.  No reason for Shigaraki to just disappear on him.  

Shigaraki extricates his hand as soon as Spinner’s pried his fingers loose enough, and Spinner swallows, easing in closer and concentrating on the sound of Shigaraki’s clothes rustling, of his questing hands thumping lightly against stone and sliding stutter-rough over the surface.  

After a minute of prodding, he falls still.  Spinner waits for something to happen, but there’s just more silence, and then Shigaraki’s voice, just a thin whisper.  

“Spinner.”

“Mm?”  

“Whatever we find in here…”

“I’m not backing out on you,” Spinner says, as if that’s even an option right now, anyway.  

“It’s not that.”  A beat.  “Thank you.  For that. But what I meant was—whatever’s in here has been serving a devil for a long time.  So don’t volunteer information you don’t have to.”

Something rocks back, a counterweight falling or a tumbler settling back in a casing, and a mumbled, “Oh,” is all Spinner can manage before the barrier cracks open.  

After a longer time in total darkness than he ever wants to repeat, or preferably even think about again after today, the light dazzles his eyes, bright enough that Spinner winces back, bringing up his arm and trying to squint out from under it.  Shigaraki huffs in annoyance but stalks forward anyway, leaving Spinner to stumble after him lest the door close between them.

Shigaraki stops once they’re over the threshold, giving Spinner time to blink rapidly until his eyes adjust. It doesn’t take long—as bright as it seemed at first, inside the room, the light is pale, watery green, an ambient marsh fire flickering that permeates thinly across yet another empty hall.  This one’s much smaller than the atrium, a double line of pillars lining a path up to a raised dais set in a stone alcove.  There’s—a throne up there, because of course there’s a throne up there, its surface glimmering a wet black.  Writing marks the wall behind it, two curving arcs of even, scored-in letters.  He doesn’t recognize the words, but the alphabet looks the same as the pair of runes carved into the insides of Shigaraki’s wrists, and it gives him the creeps there, too.  

“So what now?”  

He pulls his eyes away to shoot a glance at Shigaraki but even as he registers Shigaraki scratching at his wrist, his skin chalk-white, some instinct crawls up Spinner’s spine and keeps him turning.  His eyes land on the temple guardian knight from the second layer, standing—impossibly—barely twenty feet away from them, just inside the door.

Spinner’s mouth opens on a sharp inhale and the guardian vanishes.  

Short-range, Spinner’s brain gibbers.  Line of sight.  Four directions.  One down because it’s the one the guardian approached from.  One down because it’d put him right in Shigaraki’s path. So one of the sides, then, and Spinner draws his other sword, sweeping his arm out and stepping wide behind Shigaraki’s back, pushing him into a staggering step sideways just as the guardian reappears to Spinner’s right, taking one easy step in, right into range for both of them.

The man’s hands move in a blur of arcane gestures and gleaming steel; the frisson of magical energy accompanies the fleet sting of the guardian’s blade slicing a furrow down Spinner’s arm. Behind him, Shigaraki hisses in surprise and pain.  Off-balance, Spinner all but trips into the Web spell as it lashes itself into existence around them, clinging fiercely to the walls, the pillars, and to Spinner and Shigaraki both.

“Again?!” Shigaraki rasps, indignant.  “Spinner, tell me you dodged this bullshit child’s play spell!”  

“He did something with his dagger!” Spinner snaps back, pulling for all he’s worth at the web—it is a pitifully low-level spell, but apparently that doesn’t matter when it’s being cast by goddamn temple guardians like the one easing back into position in front of Spinner.

He still hasn’t fully recovered from the number Dabi and Toga did on him before.  His blue and red finery hangs charred and tattered, and a discolored stain marks the spot where Toga put a dagger between his ribs before he even saw her coming.  He’s not much more than on his feet, but that’s bad enough, considering Spinner was pretty sure up to about fifteen seconds ago that he was dead.

“Good instincts,” the man tells him, voice soft.  “But not quick enough, villain.  We guardians have been trying to get into this chamber to purify it for years now, with no success.  Thank you for opening it for us.”

Shigaraki goes still behind him, a dangerous stillness that would be more heartening if the eldritch knight hadn’t already locked down his movements and gotten out of Shigaraki’s line of sight.  

“We don’t know what the demon king promised you, Shigaraki Tomura, but be assured that it was a lie.  And Iguchi Shuuichi, please cease struggling.”  The man reaches a hand down into a pouch at his belt.  “A warlock’s promises are no more to be trusted than that of his master’s.  You’re not the one who’s been dabbling in forbidden magic, so don’t make this worse for yourself and you might still walk away with a fairly light sentence.”

Rage bubbles up in Spinner’s throat, a taste of bile with a familiar acidic bite, boiling up the back of his throat for release.  He should swallow it back like always, but—  

Four years, and I never told them, he thinks, glaring at the guardian.  I didn’t want to have to tell them like this, but—not here.  Not when we’re this close!

He opens his jaw and breathes out all his fury and frustration in one long, hateful burst of poison gas.  

It takes the guardian full in the face.  The man reels backward, breath rattling in his lungs, arm raising to his suddenly streaming eyes.  The web doesn’t dissipate on the spot—there’s not quite enough punch in Spinner’s ancestral breath weapon for that—but it sags away from the near wall and Spinner shrugs himself out of it with the ease of stripping off a shirt.  

Blades still in hand, he’s going in for the follow-through, the guardian already recovering, when the light in the room—pulses. A heartbeat flicker dims and brightens the illumination, and suddenly there’s movement in the shadows between the pillars, the sea glass light thrown back in the same liquid gleam as the throne.  

«How—unsightly.  A champion of good, in this place?»  A burbling laugh follows.  «I’ll have you leave now, hero.  The successor and I have work to do.»

The knight tries to leap past Spinner, eyes on the still-restrained Shigaraki.  Spinner hisses defiance and lashes out, curving his short sword into the man’s path.  The blow catches under the guardian’s arm and Spinner throws his weight into shoving him back, halting the advance.  

And then the shadows are on them.

Gargoyles? Spinner thinks, but they’re way too big for that; he’s fought shorter ogres.  And these things definitely aren’t ogres; their skin looks jet-hard, and though a few of them have the steel-bellied paunch for the thicker sort of giant-kin, the others are all sharp-hewn musculature. They all have the same eyes, though, fixed stares as unblinking as serpents’.  Spinner falls back as close to Shigaraki as he can without chancing the web again, and two of the beasts circle around him in a way that he would peg as a hunting prowl if their gazes weren’t turned towards the guardian.

For his part, the hero takes one look around at the new developments and raises his free hand to cast—Expeditious Retreat; Spinner’s seen that one from Sako often enough, and then the man’s gone, bolting through the exit and into the darkness beyond.

The voices chuckles again, a reverberation in it that, given the mireland phosphorescence, tells Spinner with an unavoidable mortal dread, Undead.  

«After him, my darlings. And one of you close the door after you.»  

There’s a blackwater surge and the creatures streak out in an eerily silent rush.  As requested, the one at the rear of the pack—one of the ones that had been circling Spinner—stops long enough to pull the door closed behind it, yellow eyes holding Spinner’s gaze until the slab cuts it out of sight.

He doesn’t exhale in relief just yet, but turns to Shigaraki, who’s regained his footing, brushing off fraying remnants of spiderweb in annoyance.  Spinner steps up beside him, weapons lowered but still out.  

Shigaraki glares around the room. “Well?”  

The light flickers again and starts to coalesce, leeching out of the rest of the room as it draws inward toward the throne.  A shape begins to form—not in the throne, but standing at its right hand—a short, round man with blank white eyes and a thick mustache, his skin glowing the same sickly shade the light had.  The same runes Shigaraki bears on his wrists are carved right into his forehead, where they burn with a weird black light that gives Spinner the horrible feeling his brain’s trying to rebel against his eyeballs.  The spirit’s dressed in tatters of white, a stark contrast to Shigaraki’s close-cut black.

«You’re an imperious one.»  He laughs again, the pitch high and mad.  «As it should be!  Ahh, let me look at you.»  

He blinks in out of existence, plunging the chamber into a locked-vault darkness that nearly has Spinner grabbing for Shigaraki’s hand again, but reappears just a few seconds later, right in front of them.  From there, he circles around them, milky gaze combing up and down Shigaraki, his mouth moving weirdly out of sync with the torrent of words he lets loose.

«Red eyes, I see, and hair all gone white; I don’t suppose you were born that way.  Those scars and abrasions—did you fight against it for so long? You’re a bit scrawny, but I suppose it can’t easy, getting this far.  And ahh, you have the Tome!  Marvelous, marvelous!  I trust you have the ritual inscribed there?  Your cicatrices, where are they?»

Shigaraki flicks up one wrist and doesn’t even flinch when the spirit wraps glowing fingers around it, leaning in close and peering at his scar, nodding rapidly.  The touch leaves a livid mark, raised on his skin like a scald-wound.

“So you’re the guardian,” Shigaraki says when the ghost finally pulls away.  “You’re supposed to help me take the next step.”  

«Yes!  I am called Garaki Kyudai, Rector of the Great Vault and Pedagogue of the Way.»

Garaki?  Spinner mouths the name, not a whisper of voice in it, but still the spirit wheels on him, the gaze knotting Spinner’s stomach with the same revulsion the rotting air out in the hallway had.  

«Garaki!  A namesake of the great demon king, much as his successor bears, I’m sure.»  Garaki circles Spinner now, regarding him as closely as he had Shigaraki moments before. «And you, dragon-kin?»

“Dragon-kin?”  Spinner winces at the bite in Shigaraki’s tone.  He’s the smartest person in their party, even smarter than their actual wizard.  Of course he noticed something when Spinner breathed poison gas all over an enemy five feet behind his back.  “Is that what that was before?”  

«A perfectly-timed dose of noxious effluvium,» Garaki says approvingly.  «He’s a rather fine specimen, successor.»

Shigaraki side-eyes Spinner, stare lingering on his mouth and his claws before finally moving up to meet his gaze.  “He always told us he was a lizardman,” he says, the words accusing.

Garaki laughs, an explosion of incredulous delight.  «A lizardman!  He must be quite the convincing speaker.  No, he’s an emerald-blooded cur if ever I’ve seen one.  But I suppose if any wyrm-born were going to pass for the lizardfolk, it would be a green.  They don’t have the horns the other breeds do, you know.  In fact—»

“There was a crusade against dragonborn twenty years ago,” Spinner bites out at last, tired of being talked over and irked at the snort Shigaraki had made at the convincing speaker bit.  “I don’t make a habit of telling people.”  

Shigaraki’s eyebrows go up as the ghost tuts.  After a second, his eyes narrow, a familiar measuring expression overtaking his face.

“…You’ve been with us this long and you never used a breath weapon?”  

Spinner shifts in place.  There’ve been a few times over their journeys when he’s been pushed to it.  In Mydsos, when the air was full of so much stinking miasma anyway that he didn’t think anyone would notice.  When everyone had gotten separated in the Cato labyrinths.  When it was just him and Jin that time against that sahuagin chief, and Jin was such a shitty swimmer that he could barely keep facing in the same direction moment to moment.  But this—it felt different.  

But we were so close.  I couldn’t let—

He coughs and forces himself to say, “Only as a last resort.”  

Shigaraki looks—impressed. It’s not an expression Spinner’s seen on his face much, and recognizing it now sends a touch of warmth through him, despite the ghost’s chill presence.  It lasts just a moment, then Shigaraki turns back to the rector.

“Are we done with the inspection now?” he demands.  “I’ve got things to get back to.”  

«Oh, “things.”  I see, I see.»  The spirit’s voice drops into a canny tone.  «Well, you may wish to tell “things” that you’ll be here for a while yet. Taking the power of the demon king isn’t so simple as just planting yourself in his throne.»

“Then I need to get a message out. We can make one of your weird pets do it when they get back.”

«Weird pets!  They’re wonderful creations, I’ll have you know. Loyal beyond death—you might have a need for such loyalty yourself one day.»  

Shigaraki steps between Spinner and Garaki even as the ghost’s attention turns.  “Don’t look at my dragonborn,” he says, a piercing command.  “Look at me.”

Garaki and Spinner both do, Garaki chuckling, Spinner’s heartbeat a stuttered pulse in his throat.  And as Shigaraki starts to lay out a plan, they both listen.

———–      ———–      ———–      ———–

Shigaraki: Warlock with a Fiend patron (AFO) Spinner: Ranger, Hunter archetype (sorry about your class sucking so hard in 5E, Spin) Toga: Rogue, Assassin archetype Dabi: Sorcerer, Wild Magic origin (frequently at odds with Tomura over efficient use of one’s spell slots) Mr. Compress: Wizard, Conjuration school Magne: Fighter/Bard, Champion archetype and College of Valor, respectively Twice: Cleric, Life domain (also two levels of Paladin, shhhh; he never broke any oaths if he never advanced far enough to make any)

My Heart Will Go On

(the Titanic AU)

Rating: Explicit Warnings: Creator Chose Not to Use Archive Warnings*** Length: 16.4k 2/7 Chapters 

Summary: 

Seventeen-year-old James Buchanan "Bucky" Barnes, born to wealth and privilege, is returning home to America aboard the RMS-Titanic -- the Ship of Dreams -- with his mother, Winifred, and fiancé, Alexander Pierce. Wanting nothing to do with the upcoming wedding that's been forced upon him, Bucky feels lost and helpless, desperate to get away from a life he dreads. All he longs for is freedom, and he might very well be desperate enough to escape by any means necessary.  

For twenty-year-old Steve Rogers, a kind but poor artist, life is full of endless possibilities and limitless adventures. When Steve wins a pair of Third Class Tickets for Titanic at a lucky hand of poker, he just knows with all his heart that his destiny waits for him on that ship. With the fresh air in his lungs, a few blank pages, and his best friend, Sam, at his side, Steve is sure this is going to be his biggest adventure yet.

While aboard the ship, a chance encounter brings Bucky, the spoiled aristocrat, and Steve, the starving artist, face-to-face, and one moment just might change both their lives forever as they sail across the Atlantic on the ill-fated Ship of Dreams.

Sample:

“Honestly, Alex,” Winifred says, “if you weren't forever booking everything at the last instant, we could have gone through the terminal instead of running along the dock like some squalid immigrant family.”

“All part of my charm, Winifred.” He smirks at her and adds, “At any rate, it was my darling fiancé’s beauty rituals which made us late.”

Bucky nearly stops short at that comment. He glares at the back of Alex’s head, imagining his eyes able to burn a hole through it.

“You told me to change,” he reminds him, remembering clearly the disapproving look he received when Alex, unannounced, walked into his changing room.

“I couldn’t very well let you wear black on a sailing day,” Alex replies. “It’s bad luck.”

“I felt like black.”

It only felt appropriate. Maybe no one has died but it certainly feels like a funeral. In any case, Alex’s demand for Bucky’s change of clothes resulted in the burgundy suit he’s wearing now. Alex dislikes this one but hadn’t the time to voice any discontent.

Alex guides them out of the way of a horse-drawn carriage carrying crates meant to be loaded onto the ship. Taking a quick glance, Bucky reads the wording on the crates. Marmalade. Just as the carriage is out of sight, Alex drops back and slips his arm around Bucky’s, steering him away from his mother.

“Here I've pulled every string I could to book us on the grandest ship in history, in her most luxurious suites no less,” he says. “And you act as if you're going to your execution.”

No truer words have ever been spoken. Not to Bucky anyway. He looks up as the hull of Titanic looms over them–a great iron wall, pitch black and severe.

Alex says, “When I do something nice for you, James, I expect at least a modicum of gratitude, not this sullen attitude.”

The warning in his statement is very clear. Alex will, no doubt, expect a great deal of respect from Bucky once they’re married. No room for anything he considers undesirable. Although Bucky’s been desperately trying to hold onto a sense of himself for as long as possible, he feels more and more of him slipping away every day.

“Of course, darling,” Bucky replies, and forces the best smile he can manage. “I apologize.”

“No need, my dear,” he says even though that’s not true and he most definitely wanted an apology. “Boys such as yourself are bound to make mistakes and I am not without patience. Never you fret, we’ll make a man out of you yet.”

The insult disguised as encouragement makes Bucky’s stomach turn and his face burn. He’s careful not to let those feelings betray his composure as Alex motions him forward, and they enter the gangway to the D Deck doors with a sense of overwhelming dread.

As they ascend the ramp toward Titanic, Alex recites their parlor suite numbers – B-52, 54, and 56, as if anyone could forget – while stewards welcome person after person with a smile. They’re not sharing a bedroom. By a stroke of luck, Bucky managed to convince Alex that it’d be inappropriate to do so and Alex agreed to let him room with his mother instead.

Alex’s hand closes possessively over Bucky’s arm as he escorts him up the gangway and the black hull of Titanic swallows them.

“Welcome aboard,” they’re greeted like everyone else as they step inside, surrounded by First Class opulence.

For everyone else, Titanic really is the ship of dreams. It’s truly grand and spectacular in every way. For Bucky, it’s a floating prison. Here just to take him to America where his nightmare can truly begin. Where he’ll officially become the property of Alexander Pierce. Stange, that. How one thing can mean something different to so many people.

***Please note that I've chosen not to use any warnings since quite a number of people have asked that I keep the ending a secret. I know that plenty of other people won't want to read without knowing the ending so for anyone who feels the need to know, simply click here for a list of survivors. If, for some reason, that link doesn't work for you, feel free to message me and I'll be happy to answer anything regarding the end of the fic so long as it's not anon.

 @annecraycray @renlongwaters @maitre-kuroneko @whipped-for-marvel @the-chiseled-dorito-of-justice @incorrectstevebucky @codenamefinlandia @katsdisturbed @lulu5109 @catherinemedellin @mistjif68 @platonictrashh@astaraiches-oisinn @acook39 @gikah98 @southerngracela @hutchhitched @helloarmchairphilosopher @octobergryphon @starbirks @reblogging-bucky @captainrogerrspeppermintslut 

HMC - “No matter where I go, my heart will always be yours.”

@hetaliamondaychallenge

Pairing: Sweden x England

TW: Pirate kidnapping

I had so much fun writing this! I didn’t stop until it was done, then got sad I finished lol.

    Berwald stares at the dock in front of him. He’s unsure when he got to the sea. And what sea is it, anyway? The last thing he remembers is fighting with Tino, and running. The reason he had run hits him like a ton of bricks. They had broken up. It had been coming for a while, as they had been falling out of love for years, but he had been trying to keep them together. The thought of finding someone else is terrifying to him.

    He shakes it off as best he can, and focuses on listening to the people around him, in an attempt to figure out where he is. They’re all speaking English, with an accent he can’t quite pinpoint. Each person’s accent is slightly different, and some are difficult to interpret. Then, a flood of people descends from a ship that docks faster than any he’s ever seen. Someone yells out, “Pirates!” and the people around him start to scatter. That’s enough for him to figure out he’s in England. And Arthur isn’t going to be happy with him, if he learns of him being there. But he’s too close to the crew to run. They’re already upon him, trying to force him back to their ship. He fights as best he can to get free, and manages to knock a few off of himself, but with each one he pushes away, two more join. Eventually, they manage to drag him onto the ship, much to his displeasure.

    “We’ve got a fighter, captain.” One of them drawls out. “We thought you might want to deal with him.” Berwald is thrown to the ground harshly. He doesn’t manage to catch himself, and his glasses slip off his face. He reaches for them quickly, but a gloved hand has hold of them before he can even touch them.

    “Of course I’ll deal with him.” The voice starts in front of him, and by the time he’s done with the sentence, he’s behind him. The man ties his hands behind his back, making sure to be rough on him. He is yanked up, and shoved into a room. The chatter of the crew falls away, and he can tell they’re alone now, even though he can’t see well. “What are you doing in my country, Berwald?” His tone is condescending, but there’s a strange softness behind it. He doesn’t question it. He learned long ago not to.

    “M’ deep’st ap’logies, Arth’r.” He bows his head. “T’no and I br’ke up. I h’d a m’ntal lapse and j’st ran. I c’me to h’re.” He hears a soft tongue click.

    “I’m sorry to hear about your breakup.” Maybe Arthur can use this to his advantage? “But you are on my ship now. I won’t make you work as hard as the others, but you still need to work. I can’t have my crew thinking I’ve gone soft. Especially for someone so attractive.”

    “You th’nk I’m attr’ctive?” Arthur scoffs lightly.

    “That’s not what you were supposed to take out of that.” He unties Berwald, and hands him his glasses. “You will be my assistant. Anything I want, you have to do. We are docking somewhere in a week, but after that I will navigate us to Sweden so we can drop you off. I’m sure your family will miss you terribly by then.” The taller man grimaces.

    “B’cause I w’nt M’thias t’ sm’ther me.” Arthur chuckles.

    “It’ll be good for you! It will remind you that they love you, no matter what. That can be hard to remember.” His heart pangs with the thought of his own family. He shakes his head slightly, and sharpens his voice to a demanding tone. “I want you to make me some tea. Now!” Berwald hurries off to do as he’s told. Arthur decides having him to tease is going to be fun.

~

    It started out small; a wink here and there, a compliment when Berwald seemed extra stuck in his head, jokingly offering to sleep in the same bed. But now Arthur finds himself thinking about kissing and cuddling and overall loving the Swede. He can tell he’s still completely crushed from the breakup with Tino, so he’s not about to reveal the feelings he may or may not have, but it hurts to think about holding it in forever. He’s never seen Berwald so clearly upset, and it makes him yearn to do something special for him. Something that can get his mind off the pain, if only for a moment. But time is running out. They’re due to dock in Sweden in the morning, and Arthur is locked in his room, thinking about how Berwald’s eyes shame the sky and the sea combined. And how soft his hair looks, even though they’ve been sailing without proper hygienic care for three months. And how warm he must be to cuddle, judging by the heat he radiates onto Arthur when they’re close to each other. He really needs to speak with Francis about how to express himself better.

    “Captain?” There’s a knock at his door, and he’s startled out of his thoughts. “We should be docking in an hour. We got ahead of schedule. Why do you want to drop him off here, anyway?” Sorrow floods into the pit of his stomach. An hour. In an hour, Berwald will leave, and he has no idea when they’ll see each other again. He opens the door, sending a glare to the man that interrupted his thoughts.

    “He is someone very important to the country of Sweden. We have to return him, or we risk being hunted. We cannot afford that. I am just thankful he was able to send a letter when we first docked, after forcing him aboard. Be glad he is forgiving, or we would all be drowned by now.” He narrows his eyes at him. “Understood?” A frantic nod. “Tell him to come here with my dinner as soon as he can. And inform the cook he will be eating with me, so there should be enough for two.”

    “Yes Captain!” He disappears into the throng of his fellow crew members. Maybe fifteen minutes later, Berwald makes his way to him, face more expressionless than ever.

    “H’ngry t’night?” Arthur shakes his head, and smiles at him. He opens the door so he can place the tray on the table inside.

    “I thought we should eat together before you go. I hope it will take your mind off of what awaits, at least until you leave.” Berwald’s eyes fill with gratitude. So he is anxious about leaving. “Come, sit. We do not have much longer together.” He pulls out a chair for Berwald, hoping he’s not being too obvious about his feelings for him. Maybe he’ll just see it as being considerate.

    “Tack,” he practically whispers, refusing to look at Arthur.

    “Is something wrong?”

    “Nej. I’m j’st… N’t ready t’ go b’ck y’t.” He sighs heavily. “I’ve n’t h’d to th’nk ab’t it s’nce I’ve been h’re.” Arthur furrows his brows slightly. He knows exactly what he’s talking about.

    “I’m sure Tino has moved out by now. And, if not, here.” He slides a coin purse across the table to him. “This should buy you a month’s worth of board. Maybe a bit more, depending on where you go. No, don’t try to give it back. It’s yours now. It’s really not much. Think of it as a thank you for entertaining me for the time you’ve been here. Life was boring and repetitive before you came. I’m not looking forward to it returning to that. But you have to go home. You won’t heal until you face the problem head on.” Berwald gives him a tiny, incredibly rare, smile. It lights his face up in a blush, and he looks away quickly.

    “Tack. Really. I w’n’t f’rget th’s. Or our t’me t’gether.” He bows his head and continues eating. Arthur notices the small bit of red on his cheeks, but doesn’t say anything. He’s too cute to risk it. He could hide it, after all. That would be a tragedy.

    “Captain! We have docked!” Arthur groans internally. He doesn’t want Berwald to go. And, judging by how rigid he looks, he doesn’t want to go either. He reaches out and squeezes his arm.

    “Face your fears head on. You’re a pirate now. And you used to be a Viking. You can do it. I believe in you.” He pauses for a response. When none comes, he stands slowly. “I’ll walk you out.” The chair scratches against the wooden floor as he pushes it back. At least he’s willing to come now. He opens the door, and shudders a bit when a cold gust of wind hits him. Berwald doesn’t seem affected by it. He walks out, and looks back at Arthur pleadingly. “I’m coming,” he mumbles, closing the door behind them. They walk to the side of the boat in silence. Just before Berwald places his foot on the boarding and unboarding area, Arthur clears his throat. “Here.” He shrugs off his coat and wraps it around the Swede’s shoulders. “It’s cold out here. You’ll need something to keep warm. I’ve got a cabin. You have to walk. J-just don’t get it dirty! I expect it to be returned to me the next time we see each other.”

    Berwald smiles at him, and wraps his arms around him in a tight hug. He melts into the embrace, and takes in his scent. Somehow, he smells like coffee and cinnamon. He brings his arms up to hug him back, clinging on tightly. He has to mentally tell himself now is not the time to confess. They separate too soon, but he hides his discontent with a sad smile. “Tack. F’r ev’ryth’ng. I w’sh you w’ll tr’veling.” Berwald presses a warm kiss to his forehead, and hurries off the ship.

   “No matter where I go, my heart will always be yours,” he murmurs to the stars, now sure of his feelings. What he doesn’t know is that Berwald hears him and clutches the coat around him tighter, despite not being cold. Maybe he can move on from Tino. It smells like sea foam and tea.