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#and it completely derails me replying to things in a timely manner. i think that's the biggest reason behind me being absolutely atrocious

incarnateirony · 3 years

Text

An anti dressed up as a shipper, an idiot, and a terf all walk into the same bar.

It’s the same picture person.

A lesson.

Warning: if the title doesn’t give it away, queerphobic content comes up in this from the other party being documented.

So, some of you may have watched a twitter exercise yesterday.

It started simple: concern trolling white knight “for the writers” comes in to angrily declare fans doing something tagged in support of them about Destiel was “out of line.” She claimed things like “Misha was gaslit into supporting Destiel”, and pulled all kinds of stunts.

She immediately got on a soap box yelling “I HAVE A LIT CRIT DEGREE, I KNOW AUTHOR INTENT” of course implying she knew better than EVERYONE around her how to read text. She then pulled, of all things, @chill-legilimens ‘ article about the network gods gutting the show out of the internet, and somehow misread it SO FUCKING BADLY -- SO FUCKING BADLY -- she thought it aligned with HER. She argued that fans influenced the writers, essentially, and basically pulled the exact opposite of the very clearly delivered message there out. When it was pointed out we know this author and even sometimes help edit their pieces, and she was, flat out misreading it while bragging about how good she is at deciphering text, it turned into a SHITSHOW.

I had watched her give a large group of queer people 2 days of runaround, while they tried to be polite, and similarly tried to prove everything while she proved nothing. Just preached. After 2 days of them exhausting themselves on her, I came in doing my blunt & savage thing, because fuck civility culture when it’s used by oppressors. Of course, she immediately started tone policing, while herself being an arrogant shitbrick the whole way.

She continued to preach author intent and talk down about “headcanons.” You see, she knew the authors very well. Berens’ name was mentioned in passing, and she came back with. “Who’s Berens? Is that the author of the article?” after Deirdre’s name had been directly cited in associated with it about 15 times.

(credit: @judgehangman )

But it gets better. She started pulling the “authors have said Dean is straight.” line. Now, at this point, we had already sourced her at least four pieces of information (quite formally too: SPN Official DVD Collection Season 8 episode 13 creative commentary, Edlund and Sgriccia; Dissent Magazine The Attack Queers Bob Berens review; the books in the office with screenshots, and more.) So we issued one simple request: Okay. Source.

For the next-- I shit you not-- 10 hours she bricked the thread to death, finding any and EVERY rabbit hole she could try to venture down. For the first hour or two a few of us tried to actually debate her newly raised points, but still gave reminder that we were waiting for her source. Every tweet was an opportunity for her to drop a 15 tweet thread trying to derail onto a new topic, and often clarifying she had no idea about any of it (Edlund, Sgriccia, Berens, Dabb--who she couldn’t spell the name of--and Deirdre all became an amorpheous blob in her retelling that she swore she looked at sources and wasn’t convinced, while she crossed all the data and comments about the sources). She tried to challenge that anyone could know all the writers and episodes just because she proved she couldn’t, even when multiple people expressed it to her extremely rapidly with not just author and director listings, but cross references on when they overlapped and major elements (like the 15.20 shot 19 tree being the Kim Manners memorial tree). She randomly babbled about Kripke once. Lied her way through and claimed those sources were vague. Etc.

But at some point, I decided, we’re not playing this distraction game. You wanted a debate, you claim you have a lit crit degree, and thus know the entire art is Argumentation. A source, if you’re declaring knowing author intent. One source. Any time she dropped a distraction tweet, I replied to her thread with things like a list of our sources vs her lack of any and a reminder. I installed a counter ticker. How many times had she been asked to either recant her point or give a single source?

Someone made a list of the logical fallacies she used in the argument. It was two tweets long and still missed several obvious ones. That didn’t stop her. Neither did the dozens of requests for a source or a recant. Onwards, she marched, derailing time and again. She brought in a buddy to try to distract, but he fell out real quick when he realized “the burden of proof lies on the arguer” shot him and her both in the feet in record time and he ducked out.

Other greatest hits came out like “Dubs (Dabb’s) fanfic books”, and calling the ability to list authors and episodes “headcanons.”

Over time, the dialogue shifted: see, she came in trying the snide “enjoy your headcanons” downtalk, but as time and time again she was pulverized on every point about the show, or the authors, or anything else while STILL never even giving a single source to even her FIRST POINT and running distractions, it became a reality-- she was told, “We’ll enjoy our canon and author intent. You can enjoy your headcanon of... Dabb’s fanfic books and Lord Barons and the writers being collective hallucinations and whatever else in your hot takes about the show content itself” and she FLIPPED SHIT.

As the ticker for sources approached 100, she started becoming flustered. Before that, even, she started repetitively misgendering Ezra (no tumblr to link in), and Ezra screenshot their bio of they/them and asked them to adjust. Ignored. Ezra linked this request and asked it to be addressed again, and again, and again. 13 times. Ezra linked it 13 times. She even replied to several of them. No avail. No change. Not until literally any and every tweet in her vicinity either had “source?” or “address gender?” for her to reply to did she flee there, and write some giant write-around of “oh, I didn’t see this, sorry” but still refused to actually use it. Or “I’ll use the right one now.” No, just completely strickened pronouns from her vocabulary with Ezra moving forward, after not one mistake, not two, not five, but 13 answers.

At this point, I notice a trend: throughout the entire conversation, she had flip flopped on my pronouns, clearly confused as to what to call me. As I generally don’t care (honestly I prefer he but meh), it didn’t ping me as something to react to while she switched religiously between “he” and “she”. But I realized now, despite all of that confusion: she never once thought to use “they.” Also earlier we found tweets of hers that, while now declaring herself bisexual, she used troublesome wording in the past to blur the line on if she was an ally or, as she phrased it “maybe less than 100% straight in the bell curve” in other conversations.

I mutter about this on the side to Ezra and some friends, but continue on towards the 100 ticker that was the goal to show people in this digital terrarium how disingenuous most people you argue with are -- an exhibit for the class. They know they’re lying and have been caught, but will not cede to admit “oops, I guess I was wrong.” but rather stick, unironically, to their own headcanons about things. After all, they vaguely sorta apologized even if suddenly just refusing to use any pronouns at all on Ezra after that. And she’s so quick to disappear into 15 tweet bombs of distraction trying to play victim for being held accountable at this point, we just didn’t jump to a conclusion on that, alarming as it is.

So. You know. Source.

At this point, she RANDOMLY starts evoking the fact that like, How Dare, She Watched Gay Men Die To AIDS, She Is A Great Philanthropist How Dare How Dare.

I’m sorry, did you just evoke the blood of our dead to run away from the most basic scrap of accountability in what is literally the first wave of a lit debate because for the last 10 hours you have refused to take the necessary steps to move on to the next point? Did you... just... evoke the ghosts of gay men that were genocided to, essentially, pull up a smokescreen and run away from being party to queer erasure? Or even just? Giving a source? or admitting you were wrong on one point in a debate? Wow, you really just did that.

Naturally, people involved got pissed. Her Sources ticker hit 100, but at this point, all that haunted her was how completely fucking vile and inappropriate that was in this discussion.

She got blocked. She then tried to glom onto anyone that hadn’t blocked or muted her and run the same argumentation points she had earlier been decimated in the argument with, while yelling “I ship Destiel too! I wanted them to have sex too! Why does this make me the bad guy?” around the block and hoping nobody actually read the thread. She tried to pitch the “headcanons” point of view again, hoping a new audience would lick her boots. She was, largely, ignored; given a few more comments about her leaving the conversation losing all points and only covered in the blood of our dead she was so proud of; blocked by a few more. (unsurprisingly, if you check her actual tweet history, she seems more invested in Megstiel but)

This is when CommaSameleon -- a professor with two lit degrees and a primary focus in teaching the art of Argumentation -- literally -- stepped in. She initially tried to engage the fact that, well, this woman not only can’t argue out of a paper sack but wasn’t even arguing, she was just running in circles and distracting from all the points and hadn’t addressed a single lit point directly while preaching down at people. But Sam, also, noticed something. This woman kept changing things like “queerphobia” to “homophobia.” Sam mentioned this kinda puts off TERF vibes (I think Sam picked up on the gendering thing herself too.)

Her response? Which she deleted since? But Discord’s embed helpfully saved?

Her inacted non-apologies remain weak, especially in any form of debate be it lit or now queer topics.

Oh I’m sorry, let’s recap her viewpoints: TERF is a slur. “They” is made up and should be avoided at all costs. The blood of dead gay men are a token to use in a lit debate you’re avoiding responsibility in. After this, “authors are headcanons” is suddenly not your worst take, but fascinating that you 13 times didn’t even read the blatant ass screenshot. And I mean, these weren’t subtle or easy to miss these 13 times.

100. She had 100 chances, literally, on a timer, to give a source or shut up with her platforming until she had one. Instead, she chose every rabbit hole she could manifest to disappear into, only to be met by another request for a source, and not moving on until we address the first points. We’ve given ours, now you give yours. Instead, you choose this. This is the hill you choose to die on, rather than admitting, “Sorry, I guess I was wrong” or “I guess I heard that somewhere, my bad.” 100 chances. 13 direct QT requests to address gender which she replied to but didn’t reply to until cornered (and still didn’t, truly, reply to), and “TERF is a slur.” Oh, and after waving around the dead men’s blood she also suddenly Can’t Be A Terf Because She Adopted Two Trans Kids. Lord help those children. Or, you know, the more realistic thing is she’s just manifesting all kinds of bullshit at this point to save face, which is probably why she deleted all the related tweets that show she’s a giant-ass TERF.

So anyway, this is very much a lesson on:

Paying attention to how people manipulate conversation to erase genuine discussion and debate.

Paying attention to WHY they do it. Motivation on methods and tactics will clear up a lot.

Figuring out HOW they try to sound woke about shit and when it’s entirely fucking vile and inappropriate to pull

And by all above points, figuring out that these people are among us, and how NOT to let them influence your conversations.

I don’t care if it’s about a discussion on a ship or show or anything else. People do this. A lot. Extremely dedicatedly, if the 100 asks doesn’t make that clear.

Stop letting people railroad your conversations with disingenuous bullshit.

So anyway in honor of this I made everyone a gif

Use at will. It’s tagged anti-terf if you want to use the search feature on it.

UPDATE:

Just went and checked. She went and deleted literally her entire side of the conversation, hundreds if not thousands of tweets. Luckily, Ezra mentioned repeatedly -- and I do trust them inherently -- that they were saving the entire conversation, so that zip file exists somewhere. How fascinating, after she accused us that we would want to delete tweets. Someone realized they had a bad look and giant failure all around.

Also, a related anon that links to an earlier part of this conversation I didn’t even document where she was crying about “cis erasure” [x] This shit went on so long I legit forgot about that.

#supernatural #spn #destiel #anti-terf #debate

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anasticklefics · 3 years

Text

Remember?

Fandom: It

Characters: The Losers

Summary: Mike takes the Losers to the Barrens and they start remembering things, such as Richie being incredibly ticklish and not minding them tickling him at all.

Words: 1 335

Richie expected a flood of memories to wash over him when Mike took them to the Barrens, but that wasn’t how it happened. The feeling of the place was familiar, and he suddenly knew this had been their spot; their haven during a summer that took too much and gave them even more. But for a moment he couldn’t think of a particular situation they’d shared, until they started pointing things out. There’s the hammock. There’re the bathing caps. He couldn’t figure out whether the slow realizations were worse than the idea of an overwhelmingly speedy reminder of a life he’d forgotten.

“Remember this?” Mike was pointing at something on the ground, and Richie nearly asked him to stop, stop, please stop, it’s too fucking much all at once, and then he looked anyway.

“A rotting comic book?”

“One of Eddie’s. Remember?” Mike sounded eager; eager for them to remember all he’d never forgotten. “He would bring a stack of them for us to read.” He turned toward Eddie who was blinking in sudden realization.

“I thought I lost that one,” he said, crouching to pick it up and stopping once he realized how unsanitary that would be, or so Richie assumed. “Shit, Mike, I-”

“W-wait.” Bill moved closer to look at it. “I r-remember this. I r-remember I once caught Richie r-reading it in here alone.”

Eddie rounded on Richie. “It was fucking you?”

Richie remembered. Remembered not returning it when Eddie was leaving that day. Remembered putting leaves over it to hide it. Remembered smelling it when he was alone because it smelled like Eddie used to; a scent so odd he’d never forget it now that he remembered it. Something clinically clean, combined with pre-teen summer-sweat they all shared, and something uniquely Eddie.

He raised his hands. “It was still in here! Can’t blame me for not looking. Also, how the fuck should I know you were looking for it. For all I know you left it here on purpose. Shit, you can’t be mad nearly 30 years later.”

Ben clapped him on the back. “You sound oddly defensive, Rich.”

“I’m being accused of misconduct! I’m not just gonna take it.”

“Like you used to take tickle attacks, you mean?” Beverly’s words were sudden, random, but it was as if she dumped a bucket of memories into each of their heads simultaneously. “Remember?” she asked, her grin so wide Richie nearly felt flustered. “We’d attack you to get you to shut up and you never protested. Barely fought back.”

“Oh, right.” Richie didn’t like Ben’s grin either. “And you’d never admit it when we brought it up.”

“I think you’re mixing me up with someone else,” Richie said drily, though he couldn’t stop avoiding their eyes. “Like, I don’t know, Eddie?”

“E-eddie screamed b-bloody murder if we touched him,” Bill said, and even though the grin was kinder and aimed in Eddie’s direction Richie hated how much it affected him. “Though I r-remember that n-never s-stopped you.”

“You had moments where you would attack us,” Mike said, recalling it. “But when we got you you never tried to turn the tables.”

Richie pointed at him. “I hate you. This is your fault.”

Beverly let out a laugh. “Oh, Richie, don’t get embarrassed. It was sweet.”

“No. Eddie was sweet. Mike with his dimples was sweet. I? I was sexy.”

Ben crossed his arms. “I see you’re changing the subject.”

Richie huffed, but didn’t reply. Truth was he could remember it vividly himself; provoking Eddie because he was a vicious tickler simply because he thought it would keep him from being tickled back, provoking Bill because he was merciless when he teased. Beverly never not going for the kill when she got involved, Mike laughing so hard along with him while Ben cheered him on and making it nearly worse. And Stan? Stan was always gentler about it, in a very ticklish way. Would always trap his wrists in a grip Richie could never break and poke at his sides until he apologized for whatever he’d said, which never happened. He rarely did more, but it was enough.

“You’re uncharacteristically quiet,” Bill said, and Richie noticed he didn’t stutter, but that thought was quickly derailed when he noticed they’d all crept closer to him. “Is something the matter?”

“You’ve picked up too many British phrases over there, big Bill.”

“Changing the subject again,” Ben said, cocking his head at him. “You used to do that when we were kids, too.”

“Some things never change,” Beverly said. “Has this one not changed either, Richie?”

Richie knew it would be stupid to ask, but he felt extremely stupid in that moment. “This one, what?”

It was weird, being a grown up man and getting tickled by his childhood friends he hadn’t seen in 27 years, but it also felt- right? Like, right enough for him to not want to get away.

What the fuck.

They weren’t being too mean about it - though Richie’s embarrassment would beg to differ - and had only surrounded him but not trapped him. It would be easy, so easy, to break away and escape. A step to the side, focusing on fighting off one of them for long enough to flee, but Richie didn’t, just like he never had.

He remembered how safe he’d feel. How he trusted them so completely to allow them to do this. 27 years and the return of his childhood memories and that seemed to have not changed.

Bill, miraculously, was the one to attack first; fingertips on Richie’s sides in motions that felt so familiar, despite how long it had been. Richie distinctly remembered how good he’d been at it due to how much practice he’d gotten with Georgie. The perfect big brother hands, big and secure and unbearable as he went for your sensitive spots with an accompanying smirk.

“Y-you okay there?” he asked, his teasing the worst one because it was always so considerate. “You’re g-giggling.”

The others followed suit once Bill had got him going; Beverly on his neck with her stupidly nimble fingers, Ben worming his way under his arms in an oddly confident manner. Mike had gone for his belly, his wiggling fingers brief and mostly aiming to tease him just a little as he laughed.

And Eddie? That fucker was trying to lift his leg to tickle his foot for some fucking reason.

“I’m wearing shoes,” he bellowed, finding it important for some reason.

“I’m trying to take them off,” Eddie called back, and the whole thing was so surreal Richie had a brief panic that this was all It’s weird ass hallucination.

But none of it was torturous, so it couldn’t be It.

He fell down, maybe to grant Eddie his wish, but if anyone asked he’d say he tripped. The Losers mostly stopped at that, laughing fondly at him, with Eddie giving up on his quest and instead attacking his knees while Beverly gave his ears a quick flutter of her fingers. Richie couldn’t stop fucking giggling.

“This is c-cute,” Bill said, grabbing his phone. “I need to document it.”

“Don’t you fuckin’ dare, Bill- Jesus, stop, stop!”

“That’s the first time you asked us to stop in the past 30 years,” Beverly said, stopping all the same.

“He probably got performance anxiety from the camera,” Eddie replied, giving his knees one last squeeze. “Isn’t that so, Richie?”

“I will murder you all.”

Eddie rolled his eyes. “When one poke got you giggling? I don’t think so.”

“Okay, okay, but you would scream when we tickled you.” Richie sat up, trying to rub the ghost tickles off of his skin. “Remember?”

Ben let out a laugh. “I don’t think you’re getting out of this one, Rich,” he said, offering him his hand to pull him up. “Just accept defeat.”

Richie deflated, but Beverly grabbed his arm and squeezed it. “Don’t sulk. This stays between us.”

“That’s not a consolation.”

Only it was and they all knew it.

#tickling #ticklish!richie #it fic #the losers club #tickle fic #mine #ana's fics #remember?

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presumenothing · 4 years

Text

When Riza opens the front door of the Elrics’ flat in Central (which is nominally under their name but potentially occupied by any combination of a remarkable assortment of people at any given time, an alarming percentage of whom scorned mundane things like keys in favour of lock-picking and fifth-floor windows) it’s to find Edward sprawled facedown on the couch, golden hair loose in a veritable halo around him.

Sprawled so throughly, in fact, that he doesn’t even twitch at her entrance, lying still enough that a fainter-hearted person might’ve gone screaming for help.

Fortunately for all concerned, this doesn’t even rank in comparison to some of the histrionics Riza’s been front-line witness to over the years, so she merely closes the door behind her and returns the spare key to the hidden pocket in her purse. “Should I be concerned?”

The lump on the couch lets out a string of wholly intelligible noises.

Riza quirks an eyebrow. “I’m afraid only Alphonse speaks that particular dialect of couch.”

That gets Edward huffing something recognisable as laughter, before pushing himself up far enough so that he can flop over – backwards this time, glaring at the ceiling.

“Apparently I can’t just pull research all-nighters whenever I want anymore,” he says, in the same sullen groan that other people might’ve used for the doctor says no more drinking ever unless I’ve decided a liver is optional.

“Ah.” Riza doesn’t bother with outward sympathy like she might’ve done usually, because Edward’s never appreciated that, but the sentiment is genuine nonetheless.

As is her retroactive relief that she hadn’t badgered the General into coming along after all, since she can already imagine him ragging Edward about getting old, and. Well. She’s already suffered through more than her share of juvenile hair-pulling arguments after the demilitarisation council meetings today, thank you very much.

It’s why she’d decided to drop by and see the Elrics now instead of waiting for the weekend; at least when they descend into petty sniping at each other it’s entertaining to watch rather than a complete waste of time.

Though speaking of which – Riza’s just about to ask where Alphonse is when Edward’s low-level grumbling is interrupted by a meow.

He curses under his breath, and since it’s definitely not for Riza’s benefit (she had been present for the swear-off between him and Havoc and Breda, after all) she assumes it’s for the benefit of the smaller lump he’s now untangling from his hair, which resolves into a kitten-shaped bundle as Edward bellows. “AL!”

True to form, Alphonse chooses that moment to – for lack of a more dignified word – sail in through the front door with a paper bag of groceries in either arm. It lends further credence to the betting pool about the Elrics actually having telepathy; Riza’s not a betting person, so her concern is mostly about how many of Roy Mustang’s mannerisms Alphonse appears to have picked up on.

He smiles brightly as he makes a beeline past her to deposit the bags on the kitchen counter. “Hullo, Colonel Hawkeye.”

Riza nods cordially in return. Any reply she might have made would’ve been drowned out by Edward’s now-louder complaints about cats in his hair.

The feline in question looks fairly unperturbed despite being held like a beaker of flammable propellant (Riza supposes that’s what it’d take, anyway, to approach a sleeping Elric) and Alphonse seems to agree as he homes in on them like a magnet. “Aw, Brother, Cookies likes you! I think it’s the shiny hair.”

Edward holds it even further from his face – not very high, all told, since he’s not gotten up from the couch yet, but out of batting range from his hair. “It does not like me it just wants to make me bald why are you naming your cats after food now Al have you not been eating enough.”

“Not all food,” Alphonse says reproachfully, like this is a reasonable thing to be arguing about. “Some of them are condiments, and if there’s anyone here who’s not been eating properly it’s you. Have you been in the library this whole time since I went out?”

Riza decides to help put away the groceries. A good half of the cupboard labels are scrawled in Xingese, but after all the diplomatic missions she can manage that much.

Edward’s mulish scowl is practically audible anyway.

“I’m really not above persuading every librarian in this city to bar you from entering, y’know,” Alphonse threatens, though it loses much of the intimidation factor when he’s clearly cooing over the bundle of meow. “Don’t make me do it.”

“You wouldn’t have to if those imperial alkahestrists would stop using fucking Riemannian geometry in their arrays, including the extra dimensional variables into the calculations is a bloody pain.”

“Well, it’s far more intuitive if you can feel–”

“–yeah, the Dragon’s Pulse, I know, ugh. But that doesn’t exclude it from having to make sense mathematically, too, and mmmphf.”

Riza glances back into the living room to find that Edward has been derailed by virtue of his brother liberating Cookies to replace it with something actually edible instead, to which Edward’s response is as blessedly predictable as ever.

Alphonse must catch her looking, as well, or at least he realises that Riza’s not exactly free enough to drop by for a purely social call these days. “Was there something you wanted to discuss with us, Colonel?”

“Something we’d like you both to investigate, yes,” Riza confirms. “No one’s quite sure what’s happening, but it’s probably going to need alchemists to resolve – I’ll pass you the briefing later, but it’s probably easier if I explain first. Shall I make some tea?”

Alphonse nods, leaning over to set Cookie down on one of the cat highways transmuted into the walls of their flat. “Second cupboard from the right, bottom shelf.”

“But not any of the tins with Xingese on it,” Edward pauses in inhaling food to add. “That’s Al’s dead leaf juice collection, it’s vile.”

“Ginseng is good for you, and it’s not a leaf. I know you know this.” Alphonse unceremoniously clears Edward’s feet off the couch far enough for him to sit, earning him a hiss that’s not unlike a cat. “It’s the black tin with gold lettering, Colonel, you can bring some back with you to try if you’d like.”

“That’d be lovely, thank you.” Riza glances through the labels until she finds something low on caffeine; powering through today’s meetings required enough coffee that she might not be entirely imagining the hum in her bloodstream. “I’d also suggest working out actual prices for your consultation work, since bartering favours isn’t going to be sustainable, if you’re planning to go into this for the long term.”

Or rather if they plan on consulting with anyone besides the one person who can be counted on not to forget such favours when it’s convenient, but there’s no need to spell it out with the Elrics.

She unearths a clearly-neglected tin of white tea in time to see Edward flapping a hand carelessly as he pointedly relocates his feet onto Alphonse’s lap. “Take that up with Al.”

Alphonse sighs, but doesn’t otherwise move. “I’ll be happy to listen to any suggestions you might have, Colonel.”

“I can draw up some tables based on what others have charged for similar services in the past,” Riza agrees, like anyone could really offer anything close to what the Elrics have. “Also most tea is dead leaf juice.”

“Exactl– hey!” Edward’s head pops up from the couch like a betrayed prairie dog with a bad hair day. “Whose side are you on!?”

“The winning one,” Riza answers mildly, and sets the kettle to boil while they argue over whose side that is.

(Cookies pauses on the nearest piece of highway to eye her hair clip, and Alphonse must be right: it does seem to like shiny things. Riza resolves to find out where they keep the cat treats.)

(more fics here)

#2 separate bits of this have been sitting in my mishmash drafts for ages #here is me gluing them together with like. 1.3k words of context. why #fma #fmab #fanfiction #mine #yes this is two posts in a day because i got halfway through this one yesternight before giving up to sleep #one more for the 'ed is okay post-canon' pile

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thescispot · 3 years

Text

I had difficulty recognizing C when she arrived.

We had agreed to meet at the on-campus burger joint and I was early. Sitting in a booth in the corner, I finished up some statistics homework as well as the last of my coffee, and although I expected C at any moment, I was nevertheless startled when she peered over my shoulder, an enthusiastic grin painted on her face.

“Hi!” she chirped cheerfully, wrapping an arm around me. I returned the hug hesitantly, partly because I was in the awkward position of sitting while she was standing, but also because it had not yet registered to me that this was, in fact, C - the very person I had been waiting for.

She slid into the seat across from me and we launched immediately into comfortable conversation, exchanging pleasant greetings, and speaking to one another with a familiar ease I had not expected. We might as well have been meeting up after two weeks, when in actuality, it was nearly two years since we last spoke.

She was wearing a sunny yellow top and had her hair tied up sloppily on top of her head, revealing a pale face with large, doe eyes and a friendly disposition. I entertained the idea that her lack of makeup was what caught me off guard and explained my difficulty in immediately recognizing her but I quickly dismissed this theory as absurd; we had once been living together, after all, so her bare face could not feasibly be considered an unfamiliar sight for me.

She apologized profusely for her inability to meet up with me for the interview on two previous occasions and I assured her it was not a problem. We lamented the difficulties of school life, such as busy schedules, relentless deadlines, and the general fatigue that accompanies the Sisyphean struggle of adulthood. She complained about how much time her job took out of her day. I complained about how the lack of a job left too much time in mine. We both agreed that we could not decide if we were grateful for the looming shadow of graduation on the horizon or not; did it promise much-needed reprieve or threaten even greater distress?

I remembered when C and I had first met, moving into our dorm in late September four years ago. After a few lazy and unsuccessful attempts at unpacking, the two of us decided to seek out cold drinks at the neighboring dormitory building, Lothian, in a desperate attempt for relief from the encroaching heat. To our chagrin, we were hopelessly lost within a matter of minutes and were left wandering in circles around the campus, the sun attacking us the whole while as if driven by a personal vendetta. The two of us trudging across the fields, full of regret, must have been a funny sight, only exacerbated by the fact that we looked to be complete opposites of one another; she pale and I tan, she short and I tall, her hair a sleek curtain that brushed her shoulders, mine waist-length and frizzy. I was average-sized but she was very, very thin.

“When did it start?”

I finally worked up the courage to begin the interview. I felt I was being invasive despite her insistence that she was perfectly happy helping me with my assignment. We had spoken about this subject many times before, but something about the academic lens I was peering through felt disrespectful somehow. Almost alienating.

“In hindsight,” she said thoughtfully, “it started when I was fifteen years old. I . . . stopped finishing my dinner.”

C claimed she had always had a large appetite growing up, that she always cleaned her plate. But as her sophomore year of highschool approached, she had fallen into an insidious routine - she made sure to always leave a little bit of food behind, to never completely finish a meal. An innocent enough habit, or so she thought at the time.

“It spiralled out of control from there?” I asked, already knowing the answer.

C nodded. She related her actions from that time in her life the way one might analyze the motives and psyche of a fictional character, like she was discussing the mental health of someone else. She had a great deal to say, but her voice and manner did not betray even the slightest hint of anguish at being reminded of her troubled past.

“The eating disorder takes control of everything it can,” she said wisely.

Anorexia, in C’s experience, was not something she felt she was “suffering” from as she underwent its horrors. She was not punishing herself by not eating, it was quite the opposite. Not eating made her feel better. Invincible, even.

“I felt superhuman,” she explained. “I felt like I was honing a skill and it made me feel good about myself, that I could go to school and handle all these things in my life without needing food. It was an accomplishment.” She paused for a moment. “Really says a lot about how our culture conditions teenage girls, huh?”

We both sighed with tacit understanding.

“What if you ate more than you intended?” I asked. I tried to hide my discomfort about the whole conversation. I felt like I was trying to play the part of a therapist and it would be painfully obvious to any third party that I was woefully unprepared to do so.

“Then it was a bad day,” she said. “I felt like I failed.”

I suddenly recalled something she had mentioned often back when we lived together. She never went into great detail, and had a way of minimizing the despair this subject caused her. But it was clear to me, and probably our other hallmates as well, that her illness was not a result of merely deciding to eat less one day. It was obvious since that night she watched a music video entitled “Till it Happens to You”, drank copious amounts of vodka, and promptly had an emotional meltdown that something more significant triggered her eating disorder.

“What about your boyfriend?” I asked. “Would you say he was the cause of all this?”

“He was definitely a factor,” C replied hesitantly. “ He was older than me and the relationship was kind of, like, secret, you know? My parents didn’t approve. He would always tell me ‘fat girls are so ugly.’ And I wanted to be pretty for him, you know?”

We were both silent for a while, trying to process how something as simple as the desire to impress a boy could derail one’s adolescence so disastrously.

“One time I called myself fat and he said ‘No, babe, you’re so pretty - I could eat cereal out of your collar bones.’” C seemed embarrassed by how much pride she had once taken out of this disturbing remark.

“He wasn’t the source,” she chose her words carefully. “But he was definitely . . . the spark.” She fell quiet and I decided this avenue of conversation had extinguished itself.

“So when did people notice?”

“We were moving,” she explained, “and my parents noticed the self-harm scars I had running up my legs. They put me in therapy for a while. Eventually, I told the therapist I was, you know, done. Just done. I told her I was going to swallow a bottle of pills that night. I thanked her for trying to help but I was just over it. I was resigned about the whole thing, didn’t have any strong feelings about it one way or the other. ”

C was immediately taken to the emergency room following this therapy session. At this point in her life, she described herself as having skeletal shoulders and no stomach. She had taken to loose, baggy clothes and was especially partial to sweatshirts, even in the summertime. She only weighed eighty seven pounds.

“And the therapist didn't notice?” I asked dubiously.

“She had her suspicions, I’m sure,” C said. “But she admitted to me later that she felt unqualified to handle the severity of my condition.”

I balked at the idea that no one would see their own daughter, sister, friend, disappear steadily in front of their eyes.

“There was one person,” C remembered suddenly. When she was fifteen years old, a classmate she never spoke to slipped a book onto her desk, a book about eating disorders. Inside the book was a note, encouraging her to seek help.

“I was offended at the time. I didn’t think anything was wrong with me.”

“You were in denial.”

C reached into her bag and fished around inside for her wallet. She slipped out a piece of paper but did not offer it to me. My gaze only captured the name “Lauren” scrawled at the bottom in feminine script.

“I keep the note with me everywhere I go now,” she said soberly.

C was diagnosed with anorexia nervosa and major depression, as well as obsessive compulsive tendencies in regards to her weight. She was in the hospital for a miserable two months, which she described as being like “solitary confinement.”

She believes attending “Program” saved her life.

“It finally started to make sense to me that I was sick,” C said, sounding more upbeat. “The eating disorder, it distorts a person’s thinking. I was finally educated on my condition and realized it wasn’t my fault.” Learning the science behind “ it”changed her perspective.

She happily relayed to me the structure of Program, and how she felt it helped her the most during her recovery. It was an outpatient program and she was given a meal plan as well as access to therapy for her and the people in her life. “Family night was on Tuesday,” she noted. I didn’t have to ask her to elaborate.

“My mother could be . . . unforgiving of imperfection,” she looked at me searchingly, trying to make sure she had used the right words.

“Did you feel ashamed of your condition?”

“Oh yeah, big time,” she said. “I felt like I was a burden for my family.”

C recalled how she began forcing herself to eat in an effort to gain weight as soon as possible; the hospital and subsequent program, she decided, were costing her family too much money and now that she knew what was wrong with her, why not just, you know, stop?

She threw up many times as her body was not yet adjusted, not yet ready to let go of its trauma. There were two separate occasions where her nasogastric tube was displaced as a result, an experience she implied was excruciating. An especially compassionate nurse was the one to hold and comfort her during the ensuing mental breakdowns.

“The disease pulled my family together,” C claimed. Her relationship with her mother improved significantly. Guilt was something they all had to confront.

“It was hard, but it was worth it,” C said with a smile.

According to C, stigma against mental illness was a huge factor in the initial conflict with her parents. Their words likely echo in the minds of every mentally unhealthy child of color who has made the mistake of displaying such a vulnerability:

“Why are you doing this to yourself?”

C insists now that both she and her parents understand that it was the eating disorder that did this to her.

Program was run by a man named Dr. Marr, a leading researcher in eating disorders and mental health among youth, and it took place in Rancho Cucamonga. I noted how strange it was to realize that while I was learning precalculus and writing essays on Shakespeare, a girl I would one day live with was recovering practically next door, missing out on such a formative part of her life.

C and I both reached the conclusion that while the hospital helped her physically get her weight back up, all the emotional work was done in Program.

“I grew up a lot,” she said and then added, uncertainly, “I feel indebted to it, you know? It let me see parts of myself I didn’t before. I’m stronger now and I can endure so much more. Like if I could make it through this, I could make it through an algebra test.”

“And what about your identity? Did your mental illness impact your conception of yourself?”

She thought about this for a great deal of time. “Who I was and who I was meant to be...are intact. I’m sensitive, blunt, empathetic, loud, funny, I’m so many things. The eating disorder tried but it could not warp the core of who I am.”

Recovery, C believes, is all about accepting yourself.

“This is something that’s always going to be at the back of my mind,” she explained. “It’s chronic; but I’m getting better. It’s going to get better. I know it is.”

The conversation drifted. We discussed school life, working, friends, etc. She told me about her boyfriend, Ian, and how happy he makes her. I reminded her how the two of them fell asleep while video-chatting with one another one day during freshman year. She told me about an infuriating roommate she had had to deal with the previous winter. I told her about a fight I’d had with my former best friend. She told me about her cat and I told her about my dog. She told me about the time a customer pulled a gun out at her job. I told her why I quit mine. A meetup I expected to take no more than thirty minutes managed to eat up five hours.

Finally, I thanked her for her help and willingness to share with me for my assignment.

“No problem,” she shrugged. “I’m spreading awareness, you know? I’m kind of like, the best case scenario.” She laughed and I agreed. We said our goodbyes.

I was halfway home when it finally occurred to me why I couldn’t recognize her earlier. It wasn’t a haircut, or a new wardrobe, or the lack of makeup that changed C’s appearance in the last two years.

It was the fact that she had, to my utter delight, put on quite a bit of weight since we last met.

#science writing #science #mental health #mental health stigma #anorexia #Anorexia nervosa #eating disoder recovery #eating disorder #Interview #journalism #science journalism #depression #Psychology #neuroscience

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barbika1508 · 4 years

Text

Hiwaga (Vampire! Jeongguk x Reader)

Part 3

Words: 13,9k

Genre: Soulmate AU, Reincarnation AU, Enemies to Lovers, Action, Romance, Smut

Pairing: Vampire! Jeongguk x Reader

Warnings: Angst, Gore and Blood, Beheading - Violence, Fighting, Death

Summary: Life was good, playing out better than it has been ever before. My future was bright and full of promises and wishes coming to realization. All up until she showed up. She stormed though the front doors ruining everything along the way by her mere presence derailing my goals and purpose in life. A puny mortal, a child, a complete nuisance, and yet…The key to an unimaginable life, to the truth all along.

Author's note: Hiwaga – mystery; full of wonder Words in italics are dialogues or thoughts that Jeongguk reads from others. Dictionary is down bellow if anyone is interested by certian words Appearance of Monsta x, K.A.R.D., Got7

Jeongguk’s POV:

‘’Well isn’t this very ominous. Not a vibe.’’

A deep sigh follows ‘’Can you stop with the vibe meme thing?’’ curiously I glance towards Yoongi hyung who is for the first time actually looking annoyed by the human’s behaviour. I’ve always expected her to act as she is right now actually, having been laughing and joking around with Jimin and Hobi hyung not even 5 minutes ago, the three of them watching a comedy special. I did join them mid-way having gotten used to her less now bothersome laughter, that I think I can pick up on from anywhere in the house.

But this is the first time that hyung - who showed favouritism and defended her even when she was acting like a complete brat – is actually annoyed. Glancing at my brothers they’re all looking grim the situation demanding us all to behave accordingly and serious. But looking at the girl she keeps on a bright grin having arrived last – human’s bodies are useless, having to eat, sleep and go to bathrooms is just time consuming and at have inappropriate timings too.

She raises her hands up in surrender lips going into a thin line in an attempt to stop smiling.

I hold back the eyeroll in favour of focusing onto the meeting instead – and acting accordingly. I’m standing near the corner of the table, with Yoongi hyung standing on my left in the middle of it and Taehyung having staked claim to stand on his left side. Jin stands at the head of the table, the human opposite of him clearly missing the whole point as she loudly tugs out the heavy wooden chair having clearly underestimated its weight as it rattles against the ground loudly. She does have some decency and blushes but makes quick progress of sitting herself down, not making any extra noises after that. Across us are Hoseok hyung, Namjoon is in the middle with scrolls stacked before him and his notebook that’s scribbled to the brim it looks like. Jimin hyung is next to him standing relatively serious, hair looking brightly neon orange as he re-dyed it yesterday.

The table the last time I saw it was a chaotic mess of stacked books, papers and random things strewn around it like cups, scattered pencils and so on. The library reflected the chaos the last time I’ve helped Y/N moving things around, and sort of cleaned piles of books she’s gotten out carelessly…okay we’ve gotten preoccupied discussing Overwatch strategy, and talking about music and filming things in general. It was odd to find her interests being so similar to my own and her actual knowledge at some points that greatly preceded my knowledge.

Back to the matter at hand – the library was put back in place. I know it was dusted and whipped down as the smell of a wood cleaner is present and lingering in the air. The table has improved as well containing much less contents and miscellaneous items, while books and like I’ve mentioned some scrolls remain. But the topic of our sudden meeting is the purple and golden detailed piece of folded paper that has been placed in the middle of the table. It’s staring at us menacingly in a way.

‘’We’ve all been graciously invited to the Crown Prince’s ball, as you might have guessed yourselves from the bold invitation that was sent to us.’’ Jin hyung starts standing straight but has both hands placed onto the table ‘’Its due to happen in South Chungcheong Province. 3 days from now.’’

At the human’s obvious movement, my eyes almost automatically dart down as I watch her sort of crawl over the table, hand reaching for the letter. Nobody stops her to my surprise as she snatches it and backs into her seat, her lazy-like manner now gone as she sits straightened up eyebrows furrowed as her eyes dart over the paper, examining it all around.

‘’That’s a very short notice isn’t it? Unorthodox.’’ Hoseok murmurs standing with one arm crossed over his chest while the other resting atop of it, as he’s propping his head with his hand looking lost in thought.

‘’Doesn’t it usually take a week for the word to get out?’’ Jimin asks eyes focused on Taehyung who is nodding, and shifts onto his left foot.

‘’I’ve already asked around, but judging by the tone of the messages the lower tier covens and some individuals weren’t invited.’’ He explains the whole circumstance suspicious making my stomach churn which in usual settings wouldn’t be even a bother ‘’They laughed at the mere location when I mentioned it more to detail.’’

‘’Well they all have good reason to!’’ Jimin states ‘’It’s very unconventional of Wangja to organize anything in a smaller city as Nonsan is!’’

I simply nod in confirmation not having much to say about the matter. I’ve found it’s usually best to listen to Namjoon and Yoongi hyung who always know the ins and outs on any sort of manner. Crossing my arms, I shift on my legs out of habit to look more human than for convenience.

‘’The Prince has some ties to that province.’’ Namjoon hyung starts ‘’I’m sure he has bought out a business there, farms of strawberries or rice. But I doubt that’s the reason that he wants to brag about.’’ He looks at Yoongi hyung who has his eyes averted. I try following his eye line and at what he’s staring at – a pile of books? But as I narrow my eyes, I do get an inkling of which books he’s interested in. The golden one.

‘’Nonsan you say?’’ Y/N says for the first time in a while. She has slumped back into the chair, holding open the invitation one hand propped on the table the other one sort of wrapped around herself. Silly human, even though we’re going through summer in the midst of it, this mansion is big and luxurious, the marble providing coldness rather than containing heat. So, it can get cold for the human if she’s underdressed, the night providing more of the difference in temperature than day. And currently it is night-time.

‘’Modern equivalent of what used to be Deogeun and Hwangsan.’’ Yoongi speaks up gently, his eyes like a hawk watching the mortal, as she places the invitation onto the table atop of papers carelessly. She meets hyung’s eyes briefly, both of her hands sort of hugging herself, the white spotted blouse she has on clearly not providing enough heat. She’s sort of in a business attire today, the pants being grey-ish beige, meaning Taehyung must have dressed her. The particularness of the blouse is that her chest is sort of just there, two of the top buttons undone. Her collarbones nicely stand out, the golden necklace’s she’s wearing a perfect addiction to highlight her sun-kissed skin. The scars aren’t even bothersome, they just add something more to her. And unlike her usual pulled back hairstyle, she has actually put effort and has curled her hair, that fall over her shoulders nicely in waves.

‘’That’s oddly specific, history wise.’’ Hoseok is the first one to comment on their exchange, everyone starting to look between the two in confusion. Y/N sigh still looking unbothered frowning, as she fiddles with the edge of the book that’s closes to her. Something is bothering her.

‘’History buffs.’’ Yoongi replies ‘’Its why she’s here.’’ Everyone turns to look at him. But even as nerves are starting to eat at me, I can’t take my eyes away from her, noticing more details like the makeup which she put on. I kind of prefer her without it. Of course, the mascara lengthens her lashes, but the powder hides her natural tone and small imperfections that she has. Her lips do look plump the rosy nude lipstick making me think that she must taste like peaches for some reason.

‘’Yah Y/N-ah not only do you speak languages as in plural and many, you’re also learning our history as well?? Next thing you’re going to tell us you were a general in your previous life!’’ Hoseok jokes, prompting everyone to smirk, as they stare at her.

But the smile she puts on is fake and half-hearted. I’ve learned how to read though her facial expression rather easily, and how she can mask away her inner feelings which reflect on her heart beat, and breathing steadiness.

‘’You wish.’’ She mumbles almost awkwardly ‘’So the invitation…’’ she straightens up, goosebumps rising over her forearms ‘’…he wants me to come.’’ Her expression hardens like I haven’t seen before. She is sort of glaring at hyung in accusation.

‘’Yes, and that comes out of the question.’’ He immediately states crossing his arms, as I let my own fall to my sides, finger itching to the end of the bombard jacket I’ve put on earlier, wanting to try it out finally.

‘’I second that.’’ To I think everyone’s surprise Namjoon speaks up.

‘’Agreed.’’ Jin nods, staring seriously at the human girl.

‘’It’s not like he’s giving us the option.’’ She replies back almost through grinded teeth as she crosses her arms, hands briefly running up and down her biceps as to warm up.

‘’No Y/N-ah.’’ Yoongi persists, while I start to shrug off my jacket ‘’You do realize you’re a lamb wanting to walk straight into a pack of bloodsucking leeches, right?’’

Silently I had her the jacket, which she accepts without questions sparing me a glance. Her eyes seem to have hardened, lips in a thin line briefly softening once her gaze is on me. But she’s quick to sober up so to speak, slipping her arms into the too long sleeves.

‘’Not to be rude or anything, but where exactly am I as of right now?’’ she narrows her eyes at him. To everyone’s surprise Yoongi hyung growls, the action prompting me to take a step to the side towards her. It isn’t until a moment later when hyung’s red eyes find my own, that I realized what I’m doing.

‘’Its different Y/N-ah. We want to protect you, that’s not that hard to comprehend.’’ Jin speaks up as I continue and hold onto Yoongi’s glare ‘’It’s obvious he wants to take advantage…’’ he doesn’t directly say but we know he what he means and why exactly the prince wants her for himself ‘’…and we are not going to let him do that. He isn’t entitled to you or anyone. He isn’t even a member of the ancients for fuckssake he doesn’t have that much power.’’

As Yoongi’s gaze flicks away I turn to watch the human as she rolls up the sleeves until her hand peek out. Tugging the front together she sorts of disappears into the jacket, looking smaller and younger all of the sudden. Anger begins to crawl underneath my skin, at the mere thought of the prince having his way with her. Even if she knows how to fight with a sword, she is defenceless.

‘’He really doesn’t.’’ Taehyung starts standing with his hands in his pockets looking very serious and almost angry ‘’I can get the guards of the ancients to pay attention to this matter. Just need a few days, but in the mean time I’ll get you the best of the best to keep you safe…’’

She’s already shaking her head ‘’I’m not staying behind.’’ She says standing up, the chair that she pushes away making a gods awful noise of protest in the tension of the room ‘’And this is reason enough as to why I cannot, and most definitely won’t stay behind.’’ she grabs for the invitation and raises it up, her hand quick to grab for the lighter that was discharged on the table, next to the candle on the candle stand. Nobody stops her as she turns the lighter up hovering the flame over the corner of the fancy paper.

I simply blink a few times tilting my head, as I watch it not take aflame. Instead the purple starts to fade out, a mark making itself present to all of us. I’ve missed that completely earlier when scanning the page – sparing a glance to the others so have they.

Just as she’s done burning the page, Namjoon is at her side taking the paper gently from her delicate fingers. I don’t miss once she lets go of the lighter, she rubs her fingers together. Careless human.

‘’A lion with an open and closed book. Side by side.’’ I frown at the symbol not being familiar with it. Shouldn’t it be a tiger as they are a symbol of Korea? Why are lions making so many appearances?

‘’What does that mean?’’ Jimin asks right behind Namjoon, who is examining the invitation once more, making sure he’s looking at every inch of it.

‘’Lions? Aren’t they tied to Europe? Egypt? Iran?’’ Taehyung mumbles walking human speed over to the three while Hoseok’s gaze is fixated on Yoongi, who is glaring at the golden book, Jin hyung’s jaw set tight.

‘’Venice.’’ Y/N replies instead holding a defensive position as she has her arms crossed as well, looking indifferent at this whole situation ‘’A lion with an open book means peace. Closed means war. Its rather simple.’’

‘’Start a war or maintain peace.’’ Jin states gathering everyone’s attention back to him. He looks conflicted eyes darting from one to another ‘’If Y/N-ah doesn’t come, that means we’ll be engaging ourselves into a war. And if Y/N-ah does come…’’ he trails off nose scrunching up for a moment as he looks away.

‘’A spoil of war.’’ Yoongi speaks up finally voice low ‘’In either case.’’ He glances at me briefly but his eyes snap to Y/N. She’s actually pacing back and forth side to side, a spring to her step confusing me. She was all grim and serious a moment ago, that typical stubbornness she tends to show more often than not newly present – and now replaced with something that I can’t exactly put my finger on.

It has me itching to move, itching to just shake her. Shake everyone else. We are being blackmailed. Nobody dares to do that to our coven, to Jin hyung let alone Yoongi who is a well renowned elder a general, a fighter and great conqueror even.

‘’It’s not going to end like that.’’ Jimin says upset stepping back over to the table ‘’He won’t just outplay us like that! We’re better than these petty mind games and childish treats.’’ He snarls in the end, Tae at his side, putting a reassuring hand on his shoulder.

‘’We’re not going to bow down that easily.’’ He confirms eyes for a moment flashing icy blue the motion showing how upset he really is.

‘’We can’t just defy him either.’’ Hoseok states angrily ‘’I don’t need to remind you what happened the last time, that prick didn’t get his way.’’

His words only spur my anger on, the helplessness that floods me for a moment enraging me as this whole situation has my lungs losing air. It’s suffocating. Not having entirely, the upper hand its odd – we’ve worked years to establish ourselves in the world and for others to leave us alone. Right now, all that hard work is toppling down. And all due to a mere human. She’s going to die in two decades either way! Why is everyone stressing out so much to protect her?! Why am I filled with so much dread, that it stops me from breathing, or moving at all as I feel like any wrong more, I’m going to cause a domino effect and cause it all to head to ruin.

Thinking about Hoseok words we’ve all heard the slaughter of the whole town that happened 60 years ago. The prince wanted a newly turned vampire girl that was supposedly destined to her maker. The Crescent Moon coven, was a strong one fit with warriors from the Joseon Dynasty – they were all ready to lie their lives down. And that’s exactly what happened. The prince a weakling himself armed with a measly ability of brief paralysis never gets his hands dirty – he bid other covens sister covens of the crescent moon coven to kill them all off. So, in the end he got his toy, and in the process a reputation that has even other covens on other continents hesitate.

‘’Well, with that lovely set of bad news, I’m gonna go get drunk. Who’s with me?’’ her voice is way too cheerful for the situation and the mess she’s in the centre of. I look at her incredulously as she lulls backwards clapping her hands once, the smile unfitting to rest over her softened features. Even though her eyes seem to remain stony her whole demander changes.

‘’Y/N-ah.’’ Yoongi mutters sounding exasperated and very tired, looking paler than usual as he looks at her in defeat.

‘’Hey, I know this is a lot right now, but I really don’t think that...’’ Jin hyung is cut short as she waves her hand in dismiss smirking.

‘’Oh, no, I was going to do it anyway. This just gives me a better excuse.’’ She replies cheerfully, her heart speeding up slightly, which she’s trying to mask by patting her thighs, as her hands keep moving around. She even winks as she glances at me. That’s what gets to me. All the dislike I’ve felt since she entered is back hitting me full force. This pesky mortal, this bug, this menace, this poor excuse of a human…

‘’Oh, so now you’re just going to go drink, are you?’’ I snap not holding myself back ‘’Drink away your sorrows and troubles, acting like a child instead of dealing with what seems to be your impending death?!’’ my voice rises in the end as I turn towards her properly ready to just…ugh!

‘’Jeongguk-ah.’’ I pick up on Namjoon’s voice which usually I’d listen to and turn to him but it’s too late. This is between me and her.

She simply stands there and blinks at me perplexed heart beat picking up in speed ‘’Aren’t you afraid mortal?’’ I step forward right into her space glaring down at her ‘’You want to die, don’t you? You are just asking for it? You hide behind your neatly crafted masks, talking so much but not saying anything that matters! Nobody can say that they know you, the real you as you keep avoiding questions and situations…who even are you?!’’ I laugh manically in a way gaze hardening as she glares at me ‘’You’re disregarding everyone right now, you are spitting in their faces and laughing in the process at us!’’

‘’Don’t…’’ she starts sound angry, her chest almost rumbling like a growl for moment, but I’m not sure as my chest feels inflated ready to burst from how angry I am.

‘’Every single one of them cares for you! They are trying to come up with a plan, a fucking plan to keep you away and safe while you flaunt yourself without a single care in the world! I can end it all right now!!!’’ before I can properly think it through my hand reaches out fingers curling around her throat without actually putting any pressure.

But my sudden action has everyone jumping towards us, ready to intervene – with a single thought and expansion of my mind they all stop in their tracks their angry thoughts filling my mind at first, before I silence them up ‘’Just say the word and I’ll end your pathetic life, that you are so happily wasting away without a care of the men that practically took you in as one of them. I dare you.’’

Throughout this whole exchange, since the moment my fingers came in contact with the warmth of her skin, she hasn’t even flinched. Not even as I forced her head higher bending it awkwardly meant to frighten her. She keeps glaring at me in defiance, breathing harsh as I’ve got a hold on her oxygen path but that’s just her body’s natural reaction rather than fear. There’s no fear in sight. Just matching anger that radiates right back at me, and something akin to hurt, that’s brewing behind the wetness that’s slowly but surely gathering across her lower eyelids.

That’s slightly unexpected in the fact that this is such a human response. Despite the brief hesitance that washes over me, I don’t loosen my hold making sure she has enough air to breathe semi-normally. He nostrils are flaring breathing sounding extra harsh in the silence surrounding us. Hyung’s remain like statues locked in place around us.

‘’Do it.’’ her words are brief monotone. I hesitate again not expecting this outcome and acceptance ‘’This is your go ahead, so do it Jeongguk-ssi! End my misery which you seem to know all about huh?’’ she bites in the end, the way she addresses me has me flinching again. The others have gotten used to the her informal friendly manner of addressing them while she keeps being so formal to me…when all I want is for her to be more comfortable with me…specially with me ‘’What are you waiting for?!?’’ she bellows hands coming up to grab at my wrist but not to move it away, but to tighten my hold on her ‘’DO IT THEN!!! END IT! Save yourself and your hyungs! You claim I don’t care, but this is its Golden boy.’’ She snarls ‘’This is me handing you all the reigns to solve this! I know that you’ve hated my guts from the moment I’ve walked in, so here’s your chance.’’ Her hold is minuscule compared to my own the tightening of her hand doesn’t do anything ‘’Do it.’’ she grinds through her teeth glaring at me looking completely pissed off and ready.

Every never in my body is on edge, every cell has come to a standstill at the last two words that she snarls. She’s being serious about this – she’s serious about dying. Her eyes as hard and cold – a complete contrast of the warmth that’s always there - legitimately frightening frankly. She looks like a completely different person…I don’t know this Y/N. It’s just so surreal that a look from a regular human as herself has me cowering almost.

She doesn’t falter as she simply waits for me there’s no flicker of anything on her expression or in her eyes. Humans are fickle creatures; they can be strong headed one moment and in the next they change their whole behaviour and point of thinking and attitude.

I’m completely startled and thrown off by her. The hurt that is spreading all over me is so foreign that I have no idea how to deal with it. How to deal with her. It hurts so much.

It’s not even anger anymore entirely - I despise her I know I do right now especially, the carelessness the obvious and easy acceptance of her faith her destiny…I hate her. I fucking hate her, don’t I? Why does it hurt so fucking much? My heart having been stopped all those year ago aches…feels like it’s going to burst. It gets overwhelming all of the sudden…her skin feels blazing hot.

I let go of her, taking half a step back as if she’s fire itself. Her body falters but only for a moment – she’s up on her feet posture straightened as a soldier almost, head rising up pridefully.

Her eyes are glossed over as she blinks and what breaks my heart further is them darting behind me. She looks towards Yoongi. But no tears leave or fall her down her cheeks no. Her breathing seems to calm down, heart still hammering against her chest, painfully sounding. She ends up nodding some sort of determination, washing over her.

‘’And I’m the pathetic one then huh?’’ it just feels like a punch to the gut the anger that starts to radiate of her. She takes a moment to glance around at hyungs that have remains the same, my control of them having shifted into subconsciousness. I’ve never achieved this before. ‘’I’m going whether you like it or not. The time has come.’’ She takes a step back hesitating briefly ‘’My time has come.’’ She mumbles more to herself, glancing away and back at me blinking away fallen tears but she’s quick to turn around and march outside, hitting the heavy wooden doors with more force than its necessary but also more force than a human can display, as both swing open with ease.

Maybe that’s just my mind playing tricks on me. We all listen to her march away, her footsteps echoing in the spacious corridor. I let go of my hold of the others, having to really concentrate and even close my eyes to figure out this newfound strength that seems to be awakening. Once I hear them start moving, the dryness of my throat that hits me isn’t unexpected.

Nobody says anything at all, as I pull myself together gathering the mess that others thoughts have left in my mind. Blindly stepping forward I reach for the pushed back chair and sit myself down on it, hand automatically reaching for my temples. I don’t have a headache per say, but it sure does feel like one, dull throbbing paired up with hunger.

The hurt still lingers, it lingers like a freshly cut wounds from a sword or from a whip. A painful reminder of my human life ghost over me, over my back but it brings back the memory of Y/N back. Fuck. Fuck!!! Why am I aching all over? Why is it so hurtful to even think about her? I can’t shake off the memory of her shouting, and screaming so desperately for something, or someone. It suddenly fills my mind, the sigh of her in terror, but also the relief and the way she said ‘my love’ as she looked straight at me.

My dead-unbeating heart aches, longs for something. Something I don’t think I’ve ever felt before. Maybe I felt it briefly with Na-yeon, but this is in a different way and thousand times more intense. More real. I can’t wrap my head around it what’s so ever, it doesn’t make sense. This anger, this hatred this pain this agony that has my knees shaking, and has me wanting to sob, and shout and scream. Just as I’m on the verge of doing so, hands settle over my knees.

‘’Jeongguk-ah.’’ Yoongi’s voice calls out softly ‘’Hey listen to me. Just focus on my voice okay.’’ he starts the notion, his position very similar to the time when he turned me. I was so confused and absolutely terrified with the burning, and blinding hunger that was taking over every part of my being. It’s almost as overwhelming as whatever this is now – the spiralling thoughts about the mortal won’t stop. The added images of her in armour, and her grins and cheers of my name make no sense. Did hyungs think about her like this?!

Dressed in a simpler dress running across a field of flowers? A flower crown on her head, brightening up her being? The image of her naked body, decorated with less scars but cuddled up to my own? The sight of tears of joy that spill from her eyes, as I find myself on my knees offering a humble looking golden ring?

‘’…you’re alright Jeonggukie, you’re alright. Nobody is mad at you okay? Just focus on me, I’m here like I always was and will be remember?’’ Hyung still continues to talk bringing memories back when he turned me, and how he helped me calm down.

I was such a hot head, wasn’t I? I still am just more focused on my actions. Specially since she came into our lives, wreaking havoc.

‘’In another life.” the declaration is full of sorrow, voice cracking at the end as tears spill and glint in the sun. It’s a very similar image to the way Y/N acted before walking away.

‘’In another life, things are going to work out with us. There won’t be duties nor any betrothed nor anything else to keep us apart.’’ The promise is meant wholeheartedly, even though the voice sounds faint as if losing battle.

‘’In another life’’ The echo was melancholy, full of emotion full of…of…

‘’Hey.’’ I didn’t even realize I opened my eyes until I realize I’m staring at Yoongi hyung, his eyes full of concern glowing brightly red as he stares at me frighten as well.

‘’Hey.’’ I sigh realizing that I’m half slumped forward. Looking up all the hyung’s are still in the room, none looking angry. They are relatively unmoving only Namjoon hyung listing through a thick red book.

‘’You alright there maknae?’’ Hoseok asks trying to put on a smile of reassurance, others doing the same. I simply blink a few times trying to see what book Namjoon is listing through but give up as I straighten and turn to Yoongi. He remains kneeling a moment further and then stands up, hands leaving from where he rested them on my knees.

‘’I think so.’’ I mumble glancing towards the doors.

‘’We might have an upper hand here boys.’’ its Jin that speaks up suddenly. Unlike others I can’t find it in myself to turn to him, but continue to stare at the ajar doors, trying to listen and pin point where the human went. It feels off not hearing her. I know she found a room at the very top of the mansion, a small quarter that belong to a maid previously – we can’t really hear here from here.

‘’That might actually work.’’ Namjoon says as I turn to the hyungs all huddled together next to Jin, that looks actually hopeful others slowly following suit ‘’We just need to figure and calculate the odds.’’

I’ve clearly missed a bit chunk of the conversation, rather focusing on locating the mortal. Some sort of panic rises in my lungs, my throat closing in at the lack of heart beat.

She left. Glancing towards Yoongi he’s already staring at me but with a softened expression Took a car and probably went for a drive. She’ll be back soon enough, I’ll send Jimin and Hoseok to keep an eye out. Don’t worry we’ll get her back safely.

I simply nod at his thoughts only slightly pushing down the panic. It’s weird. What occurred, and the words that were spoken and…it’s all just weird.

In another life huh. Those words bring an additional heaviness that settles, lodges itself into my soul…what’s left of it anyways.

*D-Day*

‘’Déjà vu much? Or is that just me?’’ I can hear the smirk in his tone. Sparing a glance to my right I watch as Yugyeom smirks cockily, clearly very amused by me.

‘’Hm, the song, or?’’ he chuckles shaking his head pushing me slightly playfully as he comes to a still at my side. I half laugh along with him, readjusting my posture keeping an eye out on the smaller ‘throne room’ the scenery unchanged as vampires keep on dancing. Of course, the ones higher in rank are mostly in the middle of the room whilst vampires as myself sort of bodyguards are positioned all around the spacious place. Seeing most of the Prince’s coven around has my nerves tingling uncomfortably. The positions they’ve chosen to stand in are very strategic – something that Namjoon hyung predicted impeccably.

‘’So, what do you recon my fine less handsome than me friend?’’ the question is expected. I glance over to the Prince’s people trying to see if anyone is interested in us. Remaining silent for a few extra moments, I focus on their thoughts finding out nothing but boredom and uninterest in most of what’s going on. Specially once the Prince’s laughter rings out the ballroom.

Something’s very wrong isn’t it?

‘’The usual. Anything caught your eye??’’ I reply out loud The prick has his eye on our human. My guess he called you just to rub it in our faces when he attempts to take her.

‘’That girl in the green dress. From Busan supposedly.’’ He wiggles his eyebrows annoyingly, putting on a boyish demander He’s testing JB-hyungs and our covens’ loyalty. He knows we’re close. He just wants theatrics doesn’t he.

‘’Hmmm. Decent.’’ Unimpressed I take the pointed-out girl in, spotting another red head dancing next to her ‘’Dibs on the Illsan chick.’’ I don’t know exactly what he wants, but he isn’t getting anything tonight. Specially not Y/N.

‘’The one in purple? Ah Jeongguk-ah have your standards fallen?’’ he’s quick to tease me placing one hand over my shoulder nudging me You’ve grown fond of her, haven’t you? What happened to you absolutely despising her guts my friend? Even though she’s rather very attractive for a mortal.

I hold back the growl that threatens to leave my throat at his mere thoughts, and quickly turning erotica images of Y/N ‘’What’s the issue is that you’ve raised your own too much.’’ I manage to stiffly say turning my head to glare at my friend, who raises his eyebrows in surprise and the narrows them, looking knowingly at me.

You like her. I immediately start glaring at him and his thoughts That’s very poetic sort of there Jeonggukie!

‘’Are you sure it’s me?’’ he adds out loud daring me on all of the sudden fully leaning onto me. I glare at him in anger, hating that he’s quick to read me even though he doesn’t have any mind related abilities, having been graced with an elemental ability of controlling the earth.

I do not like her! We’re not 5 you oaf! Ridiculous. Hyung’s have taken a liking to her, and it wouldn’t be fair to them to not stand on the same page it’s all. ‘’Judging by your ex-es I’m 100% sure.’’ I reply to which he feigns hurt stumbling a step back hand placed over where his heart is.

‘’Oh, you wound me brother. Wound me deep!’’ he ends up giggling peering at me with one eye closed the other peeking. I shake my head at his antics glancing around the room meeting Yoongi hyung’s eyes. Whatever makes you sleep better, as they say.

His amusement is annoying as he ends up gigging stepping closer to me again. I keep my mouth shut waiting for hyung to approach us, my eyes unwillingly shooting over to the loudmouth Prince that is shouting praise holding hands with a very clearly uncomfortable Y/N. To everyone else her mask is perfectly crafted the big grin reaching the sky, her eyes cutely crinkled, the blush fitting for a human look of innocence – to me I can see that she just wants to get away desperately.

‘’Hyung.’’ my best friends voice brings me out of my slight daze as Yoongi reaches us as well as Jaebeom, the leader of the White Moon 7 coven. I quickly greet him and bow down respectfully to which he simply smiles looking more relaxed that Yoongi who has kept a serious face all evening. It’s weird seeing and knowing that he’s nervous.

‘’It is nice of Wangseja to have invited us together once more. We don’t see each other enough as it is.’’ Jaebeom starts politely with a friendly smile on his face as he looks between me and Yoongi that finally cracks a smile.

‘’We should change that somewhat.’’ Looking at hyung I simply observe as the two older vampires start up a conversation with ease, completely distracted at the moment.

Jeongguk-ah are you there? ‘’Yes, very charming when he wants to be.’’ I’m left startled for a moment figuring that they are talking about me the two other chuckling quietly.

‘’Sorry.’’ I apologize out loud and in mind quick to set up a link between Yoongi and Jaebeom. Outside our own coven, Yugyeom and Jaebeom are the only ones that know about my ability. Everyone just assumes I’m stronger than the average vampire, and that is how Yoongi portrayed me ever since changing me, keeping my mental ability as a secret which turned out helpful in many situations.

‘’Where is your lady at? Surely you didn’t leave her at home.’’ Yoongi teases the younger leader, crossing his arms as he smirks eyeing the sudden shyness that Jaebeom portrays.

‘’Yes well, we’ve agreed for her to stay behind…’’

‘’Much to her dismay.’’ Yugyeom adds smirking earning himself a smack over his head flawlessly so may I add. I quickly spare a glance barely finding the human girl trapped between two chatty vampire ladies.

‘’…and take care of things at home in peace. Vampire royalty and gatherings as these aren’t really the right scene for her in my opinion. Politics can be draining, mortal or not.’’ my eyes remain on the human girl now standing at the side of the dancing vampires clapping along to the lively song, as others dance. A guy is talking to her, leaning in to close for comfort. But she’s not pushing him away.

Forcing myself to look away, I make work of focusing and expanding my mind; it’s hard to explain how my ability works its sort of like an expanding bubble sometimes – other times it’s like a bungee rope expanding and shrinking. Tonight, it’s a mix of both, as I make sure that whoever is paying attention to us or has at least a suspicion of anything - I slip a random thought into their brains averting them completely.

Glancing between the three vampires I set the link between our leaders trying to maintain the enclosed radius keeping guard of others thoughts while, I shield away their minds.

‘’…we’d be glad if you came over. I’m sure your human will get along with my beloved just fine.’’ The sentiment is genuine and welcoming, but I cannot say the same for the second ongoing conversation. As Yugyeom starts to explain on what renovations they did, I tune the outside world to out focusing on the conversation in my head.

…you can’t ask me that hyung. I blink in confusion at the strain that’s coming from Jaebeom.

I’m not. I wouldn’t ask that of anyone. But you will have to pick a side as a leader. Yoongi remains calm, face twisted in a gummy smile which is far from what’s boiling on the inside.

You know friendship wise…no brother wise I always have your back. I could never replay you for what you’ve done for us, for me… I glance past Jaebeom not wanting to be obvious, seeing the brief hurt on his features before he smooths it out with calmness as he adds in commentary correcting Yugyeom that continues to blabber providing the perfect coverup.

Jaebeom’s words have me curious. I know Yoongi knows his from way back…I mean he isn’t that old as a vampire but he’s old enough, and has been through things. I’m not surprised that Yoongi helped him, just at the gratitude that’s coming from the White Moons coven leader.

Friendship aside Jaebeom-ah you need to think what’s best for your coven. You’re the only one that can decide on it. You cannot ask neither Jinyoung neither Jackson on this. They will agree with you, with hesitance at first but your opinion matters in the end. I look at Yoongi whose own eyes skip and meet my own. Well there goes plan B sort of.

Like Yugyeom said previously that prick invited mostly people that are loyal to him – covens known to be cutthroat and eager to reach higher statues as quick as they can doing whatever the need to, to reach their goals. While they keep up appearances of wanting peace and good grace, everyone knows them. It’s why everyone leaves them alone and are befriending them. My friend’s coven makes sense as in added theatrics as well as drama and flare putting them in the position of choosing their loyalty. There’s of course our sort of sister clan from Busan named Kard. I know Namjoon secured their support just earlier having seen him convers Matthew. A big guy easily distinguished from the crowd, loud but generally friendly.

I’m not sure about the point of view from Monsta X as they call themselves. Nice dude’s but not sure why they were invited exactly. Maybe Jimin or Tae will work their magic on them.

Why so invested in her? Judging by the carefree nature… Jaebeom trails off gaze trailing over to Y/N. To my surprise she’s standing with the Shownu. He is known to be friendly as well on a human level nice despite looking like an absolute giant specially now standing before her in comparison. I know most humans wouldn’t dare approach him – neither some vampires.

I watch sort of entranced at the way Y/N smiles genuinely ending up in giggles, hand not really covering her mouth as most girls do.

Her dress tonight is more modern, still draped from her waist down but unlike her proud showing of her scars and skin the last time, this time the top does hug her curves precisely, but the boat neck cut prevents from showing extra skin. The colour doesn’t make her stand out being a dark navy blue, with golden detailing woven into the torso. Compared to other women here it’s rather simple at first glance. She has once more a cuff strapped to her bicep showing of her slightly more built figure. Hair pulled back, only a few curled-up strands are elegantly falling down.

She looks royal in a sense. She holds herself as one actually and not in an arrogant way. Her attitude is much calmer than it was back home…actually it’s been tamed since the argument from the library 3 days ago. Nobody expected for her to retract in on herself, barely speaking to anyone of us.

What hurts the most is her blatant ignorance for me. It stings like an open wound thinking about it. My main anger lies in her wish for death. She revealed much of herself – the wish for death not expected from any one of us. Maybe with the exception of Yoongi. It always brings a bitter taste to my mouth, sour uncomfortably at the thought of them together. Seeing her so cheerful across us spewing jokes making vampires thrice her age laugh is the perfect illusion isn’t it?

There’s always more than meets the eye. I can’t help but to say silently in the back of my mind. I feel both hyungs eyes on me, while I keep my own on her. The agitation like a small tidal wave begins its climb, masking my emotions with it. This is not the time nor place to rethink my past decisions, let alone hers and her actions. No weaknesses.

‘’A pleasure but I’m going to have to decline.’’ I pick out her voice though Yoongi mind. Just as I was about to back away from them let them talk more, she comes into the front. I think all of our eyes dart towards her standing near the opening that leads to the side and Japanese inspired garden that’s not at all anything to brag about.

I don’t recognize the vampire but judging by his posture which seems to be overbearing her and his sort of puffed out chest he’s clearly underestimating her and undermining.

‘’…just one dance, mortal. To show you how a real dance occurs, show you the magic of it.’’ que Yugyeom fake throwing up noises next to me.

‘’Who does he think he is?! Ugh.’’ My best friend adds sounding annoyed. I can feel Jaebeom’s eyes on me, but I keep staring at how the male vampire takes a closer step hand reaching out for Y/N’s hand her arms remaining at her sides, fingers fidgeting. Her right hand is bent where her sword would rest on her hip.

‘’I’ve been shown quite enough of magic that will last me my life time thank you sincerely for the offer but my answer is still no.’’ She shots him once more, bowing to him respectfully but half-heartedly taking a step back with the intention on clearly moving away, but he simply steps before her preventing her from leaving.

‘’You’ve never been with me, little lamb. Can’t say that until you try me.’’

I don’t even wait for hyung or anyone to give me permission. My body starts moving forward on its own as I avoid vampires moving around swiftly, hand reaching up grabbing onto the prick shoulder.

‘’Is this guy bothering you?’’ I find myself asking tugging him aback gently enough to dislodge him and break his bravado, as I stand sort of in between them acting as a shield to Y/N, her eyes darting to me. I put my hands together before me, squaring up my shoulder not being able to help myself but to up him puff my chest out a little bit. He’s leaner in posture than I am, and judging by the immediately brief snarl he’s an entitled brat.

‘’No, no, no.’’ Y/n shakes her head, her hand that wraps around my left would make my heart flutter up my throat if I were still alive, specially her proximity as she steps forward and stands next to me ‘’The gentleman was just politely asking for a dance in your absence it’s all.’’ her smile is Oscar worthy as she looks at me.

Barely composing himself he nods his head and puts on the fakest smile achievable ‘’Indeed, the lady looked lonely. Nobody should ever leave something as delicious looking all alone.’’ The comment has me narrowing my eyes, body tensing. The caresses coming from Y/N’s hand that’s running up and down my forearm do help.

‘’I’d suggest that you step away before I punch you in the face.’’ his cocky demander disappears, into one of shook and offense as she glares at me. Giving him a pointed look with a raised eyebrow he’s quick to start moving away without even properly bowing or anything. Glancing after him he’s running of to his sire, I’m sure.

‘’That was unnecessary.’’ Her comments irks me to no end from the get go as I turn down to look at the girl. She’s shorted than last time, not wearing any heels unusually so. She still tall enough to be able to reach my lips…hmm her lips do look nice too…snap out of it Jeongguk-ah!!! You hate her, right?!

‘’But very welcomed.’’ I simply blink at her baffled once more at the change in attitude from annoyed looking to a genuine smile which she offers looking up at me, still not having unhooked her hand from my own.

‘’So, I take it that you’re done with dances for the day?’’ I ask instead treading on what feels like a millimetre thin ice. Last time she paid me any mind it ended up bad. The ache returns of course, even though I thought to myself that I’m not going to let it get to me – with a single touch, I’m back at square one.

‘’Yes.’’ She half groans throwing her head back, the action childish as she closes her eyes briefly exposing her bare neck to my eye and my eyes only. It has my blood speeding up so to speak, the sight of her flawless neck so close to my hands offering such temptations…close to my mouth ‘’Done with dances forever.’’ The mumble follows which has me chuckling quietly again at the kid like reply. Straightening up I notice how her chest expands and deflates eyes taking her surroundings quickly ‘’Maybe one dance would hurt.’’

Her cheeks are quick to intensify in colour and warmth that she radiates, her hand that has come to a stop over my own suddenly lays there noticeable. Her fidgeting is back as she bends and stretches her fingers slowly.

‘’Is this your way of asking me to dance with you?’’ I ask grinning immediately completely enamoured for a moment at the sudden shyness that she’s portraying not meeting my gaze even though I’m standing right in front of her in her personal space.

‘’Bad idea huh? I’ll just go…’’

‘’No, no I accept.’’ I quickly interrupt her as she’s quick to let me go and untangle herself away. But it’s easy to capture for her hands, readjusting one over my shoulder and the keep a gentle held off her right one her fingers for a moment tapping against my hand. She looks up at me almost bright red, blinking sort of innocently as I lull us to the side trying her out more or less.

Her eyes remain firmly on my own feet easily following my movements, as I take charge and lead the dance, keeping us to the side but still in the circle of the ongoing dancers, music still being played by the live orchestra that’s situated on the other entrance of the mirroring garden. Cocky of that bastard to hire more musicians that we had. It’s the little details of pettiness.

‘’I’m surprised you’re not drinking tonight.’’ Instant regret!!!!!! I straight out start to shout at myself in my mind every curse word that I know of resurfacing and aimed at myself. What the fuck was this!!! I was given a chance to make things right and here I am fucking it all up asking her the one question that should never have left my mouth!!!

She hums instead shrugging her shoulders ‘’They supposedly bought the best of the best red wine for me. The label best doesn’t always mean or guarantee quality though.’’ I smirk at her quick dismissal of their pitiful efforts ‘’Besides red wine gives me acid reflux so that’s just a bummer.’’

I legitimately laugh at her predicament the genuine misery in her tone adding to it. She smacks her lips together portraying her detestation ‘’As lacking as our…’’ the last word goes unspoken masked with a slight cough as we both glance towards the Prince, that’s at the side chatting with his advisor vividly. The seriousness the older looking advisor has and calculating eyes ranking the vampires gives me all the bad vibes as Y/N would say. Twirling her around, I make effort to perfectly spin her out, and receive her back in my arms. The fond smile that has made itself present remains on, as I watch completely smitten by the share grace she effortlessly embodies, her dress floating along making it seem like she’s gliding along, moving in tune to me. Once I pull her in the second time, her dress gently brushes against my front, her arms arched in such a way as if she’s a professional dancer and has been doing this with me for years.

For a moment I’m left mesmerized as she easily picks up the pace and keeps up with me, body pressed tighter and closer to my own, the tuxedo I’ve got on feeling restricting after a while.

‘’I swear…’’ she starts and sighs sounding very annoyed out of the blue ‘’Firs the lack of beverages, then no functioning bathrooms, and the tip of the iceberg is the lack of Chrysaor. Aish.’’ She whispers the last part angrily almost looking at me pointedly.

Chrysaor is the name of her kopis, that she had to leave at the entrance. Even though others have weapons some as mere decorations on them, others just out of habit she wasn’t one of the very few guests that weren’t allowed to carry their weapons inside. To be fair someone had a spear, thinking it would make him look cooler than he is – it’s a fact because I’ve accidentally read his mind.

‘’I’m curious.’’ I speak up curiously watching as the annoyance disappears and she looks at me with an open expression easily maintaining her composure switching the steps up ‘’Why the Greek elements?’’ everyone has been wondering her relation to what seems to be a seemingly Greek background. But she never specified it, and upon certain situation she reacted completely differently, indication another proposition and notion of her belonging to other cultures. At one point, it was debated if she was from Canada. Another one someone placed her, to be Italian. I think Taehyung even propositioned that maybe she grew in Japan, as that’s another language which she showed in being extraordinarily fluent in a mere week ago.

Yoongi merely smiled at any of our questions, ignoring Jin’s persistent nature in finding out the truth as upon the first initial question of ‘Where is she exactly coming from?’ he was left puzzled, and realized that he forgot, and mixed it up in his head.

She snorts at my question I think having expected it at one point or another ‘’Its same if I’d ask you why are you so Korean?’’ she shoots back gaze piercing through me ‘’People could easily confuse you for something else with a different cultural background. Same can be applied to me I agree with you on that.’’ I glance away out of embracement and awkwardness at her rather defensive reply.

‘’But also, to answer your question, I do have lineage reaching years, centuries, millennia back to Greece. Like Yoongi has to the royal family.’’ It’s a well-known fact in our coven that Yoongi by birth right is actually higher up that Wangseja himself is. And I think other covens know this too, but due to hyungs blunt nature they are wise to back off and not engage into political games with him.

‘’You’ve done research about it?’’

A small smirk draws itself on her lips, face turning away to the left. For a moment she gets this faraway look, but then turns to look at me ‘’You could say that.’’ Before her answer can puzzle me further and raise more questions, she’s quick to return the favour ‘’What about you? Are you curious about your history, your ancestors, previous lives all that?’’

For the first time I feel as if her complete attention is on me, eyes unmoving having softened actually. Her heart remains steady, breathing having calmed down, and even her feet are lighter than before, sliding against the polished floor like a breeze ‘’Once upon a time, yes I was curious.’’ I find myself admitting looking in between us as the closeness we’re holding one another at, her hand feeling warm in my own ‘’But I didn’t get many answers.’’ due to the chandeliers above us, the light reflecting in her eyes resemble stars.

‘’Yes, humans do have a poor way of recording history. And have a reputation of destroying it as well as replacing it.’’ the curt laugh gives away the tinge of bitterness that’s she’s feeling about this matter.

But what’s intriguing is her wording. The way she keeps addressing humans as if she’s isn’t one herself. I know I must be overthinking, it’s probably nothing. She’s tired of her race as we are of our species at times when idiots poke their heads out into the sunlight – literally.

‘’Maybe one day I’ll find out more. Yoongi lived through most of the history, and from what he’s been telling me about certain stories not much made it to the light of day.’’ Her smile widens at my words, body moving and moulding as I bend her over for a moment, following along the other dancers the difference between us that we are both half-ass-ing it sort of, the others seemingly putting effort. And yet the two of us are the ones most in tune with one another.

We fit like puzzle pieces in a sense, as she moves and I follow right on point, and with a slight nudge from me she’s already adapting just as I’d imagine it in my head. It feels right, how harmonious we actually are.

‘’I bet…’’ she quickly shuts up, as everyone goes quiet the music ending, claps suddenly rising in volume. Startled I look up around us, not even following along as everyone has turned towards the orchestra, fake smiles present. I quickly spot Taehyung and Jimin in the front, both with dancers of their own while Hoseok is hanging back with Namjoon. Yoongi is standing near Jaebeom still across the room, while Jin is somewhere in the middle.

I look at him in confusion feeling Y/N shift in my hands. Glancing down she offers a nod towards hyung, understanding whatever message he sent her whilst I wasn’t looking.

‘’Thank you for the dance Jeongguk-ah.’’ The thanks is unexpected along with the loveliest smile I’ve ever seen in my life. If I were still alive this would be the time when my heart would just jump out of my chest, and I’d be red head to toe. She called me Jeongguk-ah. Hehe.

‘’Ah your welcome, thank you.’’ I reply completely perplexed and awkward taking a step back still holding onto her hand as I bow down properly almost 90 degrees. She chuckles at what a dumbass I am, nodding her head simply hand leaving my own with hesitance. At least it feels like hesitance.

I put on a smile easily because it’s her, but maintaining it once she walks away is tricky. I can still feel her hand on my own, as it remains warm. Placing both hands before me I take a step back, my intention is to back away and sink into the ground, from how dumb I am.

How does she have such a big impact on me? A fucking smile has my knees weak and wobbly.

You are totally into her, pfff what a softie!!! instead of sparing my best friend a glare I look back into the crowd completely ignoring the Prince as he begins another speech addressing everyone, probably ready to close the night off by bringing in humans. Maybe that’s why Jin hyung got Y/N’s attention, wanting to get her out. She shouldn’t see this ever. Or be a part of it!

‘’Ah JK, JK, you won’t even look at me.’’ Yugyeom states disappointed immediately after ending up chuckling clearly amused by my predicament.

Just making sure she’s safe that’s all I reply back frowning to myself, as her back is turned to me. But judging by Jin hyungs agitated expression something must be happening ‘’I’ve seen your ugly mug enough already.’’ I reply back looking around the room, noticing the lack of “guards”. The area near the main entrance is sort of empty.

Aha that’s what they all say. That’s what Jaebeom hyung said too for his mate I raise my eyebrow turning to him briefly the word mate suddenly ringing in my head. Mate.

‘’Oh, what’s happening?’’ just as he asks that and I tug my mind back from going into overdrive at an inkling I get in my gut, the lights get suddenly cut off. Some ladies even though are vampires do shout out like humans do in their horror movies. What’s surprising is that most of the chandeliers were lighted up by candles. As far as Namjoon’s hyung research went the Prince had a wind manipulator in his guard.

I immediately look towards the centre of the room air getting sucked out of my throat as the boulder of nerves that makes itself present once more with full force sinks his claws more into me. As people shift around, I completely lose sight of her in the crowd barely picking up on Jin hyungs purple hair. Before I can run after them, a hiss gets my attention a man dressed in the royal guard’s officer clothing raises his arms up holding a sword steadily between his hands.

There’s moonlight faintly shining inside enabling us to see enough not to be left completely blind. The advantages and disadvantages here are also that some vampires have better and worse night vision from one another. And they don’t call me Golden Maknae for nothing.

It’s easy to push Yugyeom away and take a step back intercepting a dagger in its wake of lodging itself into my heart. I’m met with glowing red eyes, as the man hisses mind screaming KILL loudly. He acts fact moving back and reaches forward again, the larger blade of the sword rendering a hinderance to his intent of cutting me, than the dagger he holds in his other hand the image of him cutting of my head with it very unrealistic. As I reach forward this time using his hesitance to my advantage I grab onto his forearms, and simply squeeze my ability coming through.

The scream he lets out is sort of a human habit, pain half reduced thanks to our genes. The scene is what gets to him more likely, bones sticking out as his forearms and limp hands sort of dangle, the crushed and bent shape of his forearms moulder to my fingers plainly creepy looking.

As his hands give out, the blades start falling down immediately. I headbutt him unnecessarily so yes, but it has him stumbling back while I kneel to pick up both blades before they can chatter to the ground.

And it’s just in time, as another man is suddenly at my right-side dagger inches away from the side of my throat. But it’s Yugyeom that pulls him back, the ground around us shaking. Nothing happens expect that the man’s neck cracks as my friend takes care of his previous attacker, who lays on the ground with a weirdly bent leg and neck. Turning to the fallen guard, the dagger in my hold mimics the image he had in his mind – it gets swiftly lodged in his chest instead of my own.

For a moment I want to leave it in, but decide against it switching the weapons in my hands, knowing I’ll do better with the Geom he wielded, dagger at the ready for extra damage or to deflect attacks.

The goal is simple really – get to Y/N. I bet my hyung’s are on the same thought as I am, but what fuels me is much deeper than they could ever understand.

It’s weird that the guards and the men fighting against us, let go most of the guests to run to the gardens as the entrance seems to be blocked completely. The colour of a blue dress gets my attention mid-way as I stare bewildered at the human girl cursing out loud not keeping quiet at all. She’s banging against the door, shouting ‘’GIVE ME BACK MY KOPIS YOU COWARDS!!!’’

I can’t even take a moment to shake my head at her, or call her out on it as a woman jumps onto my back, her hiss sending a cold shiver down my spine fangs close to ripping into me. This is what happens in war or in fights – you lose your focus for one second or stop moving and you are done for.

I half expect the blood curling scream that rings in my ears slightly painful only a second after. But the dead-beat weight and gurgling that follows is welcomed. Shaking my shoulders, she falls down, behind me hands tearing at and into her own throat, blood spilling from every nock and cranny of her face I’ll put it like that. Glancing up Yoongi offers a brief nod my way, as he moves to stand behind me. A cold shudder runs down my spine, the sight of him using his abilities rare for a reason.

Focus Jeongguk-ah focus

This is exactly why he has trained me for all those gruelling never-ending one on one hand combats lessons lasting years – they are paying off tremendously. Just not in a way I’d expected them to, having Y/N as my main priority to protect and not myself.

We need to get to Y/N hyung

I barely can focus on replying as I intercept more blades going our way, guards seemingly doubling number wise as well as individual attackers. Besides having a vague sense where my brothers are, I’m tremendously grateful for the handpicked friends that have chosen to fight by our sides, Jaebeom’s choice in standing with us, bringing warmth to my heart.

Upon punching and knock a man into a half dead state watching as he falls heavily to the ground, I turn up ready to lodge the dagger into the next asshole that is planning to stand in my way. I’m met with a composed fellow that has his tuxedo ripped and is breathing heavily as he glares at me with bright red eyes, fangs out. Isn’t he the leader of the newest clan with the unorthodox name? An orange hair man stumbles behind him confirms my thoughts, as I know Jooheon hyung, having met him through Namjoon and Hoseok. He’s the one that nods his head urging his leader forward.

Getting frustrated with the nonstop attacks, I’m tempted to just force everyone to a stop quick to rile myself up more by imaging Y/N – the memory of her smiling at me encourages me with ease. But the man that stands before me and grins cockily ready to fight, suddenly has his eyes rolling to the back of his head body crumbling on the ground, something bursting as blood splatters hit my trousers.

‘’Now is not the time Jeongguk-ah.’’ Yoongi growls ‘’You need to go get Y/N and get out of here.’’

For once I don’t hesitate or second guess his notion. Not that I ever did, but at some requests you have to stop and rethink things. But this time, I’m in sync body and mind. Making way for him, I move past Matthew who sends a wink my way continuing on to crush a guy’s skull with his bare hands, his second in command a grey-haired girl right next to him, pushing away another girl with ease.

I notice that the entrance has been busted open by force. Our library doors come to my mind briefly, wood splintered at the handles like back home. But these are much, much heavier doors than ours, this house having been a fortress and armoury a long time ago. Meaning the walls are thick, as well as the passages, and these doors included.

And yet someone managed it – what’s so shocking is that I’m the one that’s considered being one of the strongest vampires maybe in the world - and I know it myself that I’d have a great difficulty achieving whatever happened to the doors.

A shout of anger has me backing towards its direction voice falling quiet, but cuts and grunts persistent. Once I manage to get myself out of a noose that I find myself in with another girl that’s clearly on our side I do take the chance to look towards Y/N.

The lower part of her dress has ben sort of torn and half cut away, her bare feet peaking specially as she kicks a man very Spartan style, while her bronze blade glints magically almost in the cascading moonlight that’s peaking from the gardens, the huge open walls proving a disadvantage somewhat from the removed previous doors that guarded this room.

She’s standing rather close to our way out luckily and for all my doubt she looks like she’s holding perfectly fine on her own, the many bodies that are disintegrating into ash at her feet are a huge indication that she is no stranger to carnage as this one. She skilfully even more skilful than Yoongi or Hoseok hyung combined are, glides across the ground dodging the quickly paced attacks of what I know seem like blurred figures and movements to human eyes. And yet here she is intercepting every blow as if she’s one of us.

That’s not right. By logic she shouldn’t be able to see us move so quick, let along deflect fatal blows like that. A growl leaves from her lipstick stained lips, as she mercilessly cuts down another woman similar in height leaving her crying out in pain pushed harshly to the ground. I watch as Y/N moves her kopis as if it is an expansion of herself, easily across the woman’s head, cutting it clearly off. Her eyes lift up meeting my own in the massacre.

But it’s as if the cosmos slows down, and connects the pieces of a giant infinite puzzle that for the first time slots together into one.

Because her eyes…I’ve seen them before. I’ve admired them many, many times. In more serene times, and much bloodier than this.

‘’Duck!!!!!!’’ her shout is quick face turning into one of panic. I blindly follow her words, falling to my knee’s half turning back to see a rapier being thrust just above my head. Hand shooting up, I twist the guys own hand completely pulling his arm out of his socket as I turn and stand around lodging the dagger into one of his eyes. I’m not sure in which as I don’t bother making sure, Y/N being in danger bringing my own panic to the front.

Before my brain can process what’s happening, my body freezes tiny bits of shocks of electricity force my muscles to tighten up. I groan through my teeth, falling down onto my right knee as my body clamps up. The hold that’s on the juncture where my neck meets my throat is the strong, long nails digging into my skin but not piercing it.

I try to move immediately, despite my body wanting to curl in on itself I fight against it achieving no difference in the end as my body continuously gives out. I do manage so semi-successful tugs but nothing prominent, as I freeze up all the more, the static intensifying making me cry out as fuck this shit hurts.

‘’I’d advise you to stop dear.’’ The Prince’s voice is condescending. I try to get a look at him, but he has me in his grip in a way that forces me to stare forward, eyes darting around trying to find my hyungs – no one is in sight. Only Y/N that’s twisting and turning her blade which is lodged in a man’s chest, her hand holding him up somehow by his throat. I bet she’s responsible for the doors – but more importantly she lied didn’t she. The display of strength…

‘’Ah just when I was starting to have real fun.’’ Her voice is heavily sarcastic as she spares the Prince a glare, and then pushes the disintegrating body away, her blade remaining covered in fresh blood that she brings to hold on her side.

‘’Indeed fun. It was well worth hiring extra lackies for you to play around with.’’ The Prince brags happily almost ‘’Your reputation precedes you daimones. I hope you’ve been appeased by my gifts.’’

I stare at Y/N as she clicks her tongue looking very unamused as she swings her sword around for my guess a dramatic effect and examines it for a moment. She nods her head more to herself as she walks towards the middle of the room actually keeping her distance from us ‘’Wouldn’t call whatever you’ve presented necessarily gifts, Cheob.’’

The word she addresses him with, I think has not only me rising an eyebrow in interest. It’s a highly unusual insult to use on a male let along on him. She could have literally used any other name, or cuss word to degrade him and yet this one in particular seems to hold meaning.

‘’Now, now no need for immediate name calling. We’re all civil beings here.’’ He tries to approach this in a polite way not even denying her implication.

‘’Says the man that’s holding my protectee under his hand.’’ I stare at her with widened eyes. Protectee is a term I’ve heard from Jin hyung before when he explained about titles and some laws, we as vampires have. This word reaches out globally, and can have any creature stake a claim of protection to their own species or another one.

‘’Its only out of precaution, you can understand that from my point of view can you not, general L/N? Or should I follow in your footsteps and address you by your real titles huh?’’ she doesn’t even flinch at his teasing as I think he expected her too ‘’The famous Death bringer, Reign ender, Atlantean leviathan and the of course the most known one; the Ghost of Sparta. Just to list a few names ladies and gentlemen.’’ He cheers in the end, clearly wanting to clap but he’s currently preoccupied with having me paralyzed and hostage.

But even without his “help” in the matter of incapacitating me, I’d definitely have to take a moment to process this information as my mind starts running a thousand miles per hour. All of those titles…I’ve heard them. Some from games and the current pop culture, some from Namjoon hyung as his random discoveries during out years together took him around the whole world. He even took time to explain to me whenever I was curious about his studies. None of this makes sense. When I look at Y/N I can’t even begin to imagine her as either one of those things that the titles hold myths about.

‘’Should we add former protector of lowline vampires as well to that list?’’ the shout crawls up on me unexpectedly as his fingers dig into my flesh deeper, nails piercing skin blood quick to raise and start flowing from the open wounds. But that’s barely noticeable in regards of pain tolerance – what fucking gets me to tremble and shake is the amplified pain the electric current that seems to be frying off my nerves is entering my system directly. My body has barely time to heal itself before its being wounded. Besides all that to worry about, the sensation feeling and sort of state of mind fogginess is what creeps me out. Even if I wanted to read into his mind and stop him, right now it feels like it’s next to impossible to even attempt.

The asshole twists his fingers deeper masochistically forcing me to brace myself on my hands as my legs fold into a kneeling position. He keeps me upright enough head still twisted to the right, my neck exposed to anyone. He’s positioned me like a fucking dog, ready to have his head chopped off at any moment.

‘’Spare us the theatrics Cheob, you’ve lost your audiences and so-called loyal followers a while ago. Stop trying to gauge my interest.’’ She replies keeping up a relatively indifferent attitude.

It does cross my mind as things are now coming up to light that she might not even care about me, as much as I care about her. I might be considered a bystander her main goal being Yoongi. Maybe after all she really is involved with him romantically. She seriously might be doing this just because he’s my sire and my death would hurt him more.

‘’C c c, did old age bring you impatience darling daimones?’’ he doesn’t let himself get phased voice turning unnecessarily higher, my breathing remaining harsh due to the constant zaps and what feel like small wildfires spreading and crawling over every inch of me ‘’The night is relatively young. And we haven’t even brough snacks in yet.’’ I bet his grin is menacing – I bet the prick is trying to look intimidating for no good reason. The twitch in Y/N lips is evident to it, as she shifts from one foot to another, bringing her sword to her side properly, still lifted up pointing finger that’s situated on the blade tapping against the metal. She’s imitating her heart beat. Hmm.

‘’Might be Cheob.’’ She says eyes meeting my own for only a second ‘’And as much as we are both fans of drama and its twists and turns it would be very much so appreciated if you’d let go of my coven. Along with Jeongguk-ah first. I’m sure any favours you wish to get granted aren’t worth by killing yourself slowly by holding the youngling hostage hmm?’’

I’m surprised that she knows of his weakness. Even though his ability has been added to the unofficial A list, it comes with a huge downside to it – he’s draining himself as we speak, of his energy and life essence actually. As much as it is threatening the ability is deadly more so for himself.

‘’On the contrary my lovely daimones. You’re worth every drop of blood even if it’s my own at the moment.’’ His reply is way to cheerful, the eerie silence breaking at again an unwanted shout that turn into growling and hissing noises as I breathe heavily, my chest starting to burn. My teeth sharpen unnecessarily, senses somewhat focused, body detached from my mind. This isn’t good. Shit. He’s managing to keep my mind hazy and distracted, and with the onslaught to my body he’s achieving a dissociation to start occurring.

Again, heeding to his warning, my head on its own falls limply forward, the small amount of control that I did have now gone. Even my thinking capabilities are getting leaden ‘’See?’’ he cheers ‘’It is so fun to have the drama the flare, the pain!’’ he taunts shifting me his breath fanning over my exposed neck, as he must have knelt down ‘’To control ones prized possession as a mere rag doll, or dog to be completely frank with you.’’ He’s pissing me off for real now anger spiking over the pain that’s being delivered steadily ‘’And I know that you’ve been looking for him for over a thousand and more years, haven’t you?’’

I furrow my eyebrows in confusion, watching as something drips down from my face staring at the first droplet of darker coloured blood as it hits the polished stone floor ‘’You’ve pointed out twists and turns earlier fittingly my lady.’’ He continues on grip starting to become agonizing, the mumbles uncontrollable as is the hiss coming from my chest. His grip shifts to the back of my hair, head being forced to turn upwards ‘’They are unexpected and completely breath taking, aren’t they?’’ his head is close to my own, probably grinning widely like the clown he is.

Opening my eyes narrowly I can see that Y/N is absolutely fuming on the inside, her eyes evidently ablaze in the darkness, rimmed with gold. Her body is at a complete standstill, chest barely moving even thought her heart and breathing are normally functioning. That’s good, that small fact eases my worry. Her posture is exactly the one Yoongi hyung has taught me to hold. Good.

‘’Does he even know sweet Y/N-ah? Opps Y/N-nim. He doesn’t does he?’’

Y/N tilts her head instead the motion sort of familiar as hyung’s have pointed out that I tend to do that whenever I’m confused. She’s not even close to being confused or lost at the moment. Her finger tapping against the metal is still present in the stillness.

‘’You know…’’ she starts intaking a breath calmly ‘’The nickname’s as fun as you find them, do hold a meaning to them Cheob. Yours not so much for yourself but I’ve made peace with my actions.’’ One side of her lips stretches up into a crooked smile, the glint in her eyes frightening as her face shifts into a menacing expression ‘’So are you really ready to test my already thin patience and challenge me Cheob?!’’ she pronounces the last word clearly, and slowly her taunting way more efficient than his one was.

Because of the brief silence that follows it seems as if she struck a nerve, murmurs starting but ending quickly, as my body wants to bend down and over. I start to uncontrollably shake, teeth cracking under the pressure of how tightly my jaw is pressed together. Besides the complete physical shut down, I use my last energy resorts from not calling out to her, or making any noises. Even if she doesn’t care I don’t want her worrying.

‘’Stop calling me that!’’ he snaps the exclaim sort of echoing around ‘’I am Taewang of the Three Kingdoms of Korea, and of the existing kingdom that is today!!! You will address me as such daimones! You are below me in stature and as a being! You will bow down and pledge your immortal life to serve me or face the consequences of your foolishness with the price of your soulmate’s head.’’

His shouting tirade isn’t as frightening as one might think it’d be. Of course, his words do send my blood to run faster, the following probably not promising anything good for Y/N or even my hyungs. If I were alone…I look up at Y/N that looks unphased still. But the smile she was sporting is gone. So is her more leisure position. She has straightened up perfectly, like a soldier, like a fighter with her core balanced, mind in tune. She is ready for anything. Even though her kopis has been put and hidden behind her, the tapping against the metal of the blade still remains.

Wait…wait…soulmate? What is he on about?!! Did I hear him right?

My body begins to buzz when her eyes dart down to me irises bleeding golden. I’m not entirely sure if the room gets brighter or if she has put on a sheet of glow around herself – but I can say for sure that she is absolutely gorgeous, her aura shining, being draped in gold.

‘’Touch him, further and I’ll chop of your tongue.’’ Her tone is rid of the scratchiness that it usually contains ‘’I haven’t made a promise in over a thousand of years but I’m promising you this parasite.’’ I can feel how the Prince tenses behind me hearing the undertone clear in her now more melodic and entrancing voice ‘’If you harm one more hair on his head, I will end you all. And I will do so smiling while I bathe in your blood.’’

The promise sends chills over me, but I’m at my ends here. For the first time since I’ve been turned, I can easily describe this abyss that I’m falling towards as sleepiness. I feel sleepy, on the edge of being pushed or simply blown and sent over the edge into the darkness that is encompassing my vision. The only thing keeping me present is the sort of angelic aura that radiates from Y/N.

I should be concern for myself, for the wellbeing of my hyungs that faintly I start to pick out their voices that seem to be shouting in the back of my mind. But she’s the thief of my attention, my whole meaning of existence. An entity bound to the earth.

‘’Get her!!!!!’’ the man behind me shouts, but it sounds like it’s coming from a bubble. This time as the agony just forces my body to succumb and give in the fight, healing coming to a full stop no shout or call ring out into eeriness that’s replaced with a tantrum of warlike cries.

My gut twists in worry, mind wanting to remain awake and get up and fight – but I’m just so tired. I don’t want to leave her alone.

‘’Jeongguk-ah, Agápi mou closer your eyes.’’ her voice reaches my ears like a sweet lullaby. I can taste sweetness from peaches, and citrus from another fruit on my tongue. My eyes fall closed for a moment – still seeing her eyes which are so beautiful and breath-taking as they focus solemnly onto me. Looking like molten gold, and blazing sun they look at me with gentleness and what’s most important – love. And wanting, and endearment, and, and…

That’s when my word gets consumed by nothingness.

Part 2 / Part 3 / Part 4 (Final)

Dictionary: Taewang - meaning "Grandest of all Kings" Wangseja - Crown prince, the son of the king who appointed as heir to the throne. Kopis - a heavy knife with a forward-curving blade / the Ancient Greeks often used single-edged blades in warfare, as attested to by art and literature. Geom - is the generic term for "sword", but more specifically also refers to a shorter straight-blade, double-edged sword with a somewhat blunted tip Daimones - The word is derived from Proto-Indo-European *daimon "provider, divider (of fortunes or destinies)," from the root *da- "to divide". Daimons were possibly seen as the souls of men of the golden age acting as tutelary deities In Greek mythology, Chrysaor (English translation: "He who has a golden sword"), was the brother of the winged horse Pegasus Cheob /Korean/ - (in polygamous societies) a woman who lives with a man but has lower status than his wife or wives.

#jeon jungkook x reader #bts jeon jungkook #bts vampire #bts vampire au #yoongi vampire #jungkook x reader #BTS jungkook #bts jungguk #bts jeon jeongguk #jeongguk x reader #bts fanfic #bts fanfction #bts #bts romance

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neotericbitch · 4 years

Text

this was a start of something that then got derailed and i abruptly stopped. but what a waste of words if i don’t share it, you know??

There’s peace to be found in Valkyrie Cain’s house. It’s not immediately obvious, it doesn’t jump out at you, nor does it leave a trail behind to be followed. There’s no map to it, one just...finds it. They carve it out for themselves, or it comes to them. There’s the definite impression that the house doesn’t hand out its peace to just anyone who walks these halls; the peace is earned, and that’s what makes it special, makes it an extra peaceful sort of peace, the peacefullest peace, and now the word peace feels weird so Omen sits for a second thinking of a substitute.

Calm. Yes, it’s calm here, and he appreciates it all the more these days.

Omen sits up straight and cranes his neck from side to side, links his fingers together and stretches his arms up high above his head. Something in his left shoulder cracks and he has a moment of mild panic, and he reaches behind his back and pats for injuries, feeling nothing but his own hand inelegantly pawing around. Omen places his hands on his knees and looks down at the coffee table in front of him.

It’s more paper than table, really; nothing more than the vague idea of a structure, something holding all this mess up off the ground. The surface is completely covered by an array of spread-out old newspapers, held down to the edges with some strips of clear tape. There are two chopping boards over here on Omen’s side of the table, one wooden and one acrylic, the latter serving as the designated space for putting his failed scraps of paper, the former he uses as a base for his homework – because of course he forgot his own board back at Corrival, like an idiot.

No, Omen, not like an idiot, he tells himself. Like a forgetful teenager, which he is allowed to be. Yes.

Although Omen doesn’t know anything about paper quality, he thinks this cardstock is pretty alright – much better than the printer paper that occupies the other side of the coffee table, at least. The card puts up a good fight against his carving knife, which needs to be sharpened and more resembles an implement for spreading butter at the present time, but Omen thinks this is good for the time being. All his cuts are slowly and carefully made, kind of janky where the blade gets caught but probably better than what he’d manage with fast slashes. Those can get...pretty bad.

Another positive thing about his crappy carving knife is that he feels better using it around Alice than he would a sharp one. Not that he’d ever leave it where she could get it, not that he’d ever let her have a close look, not that he’d ever not practise expert knife safety – but, y’know. One of those things.

He jabbed his index finger about forty-five minutes ago and was so relieved when there wasn’t any blood.

As he hunkers over to get back into it, it’s Alice’s turn to straighten up. She puts down the colouring pencils she’s been dual-wielding and shuffles over to the couch – she’s been sitting on the floor, leaving an iPad of indeterminate owner to sit next to Omen, which Alice takes now and fiddles with until the Frozen 2 soundtrack stops playing. There’s the metal tinkling of a dog collar as Xena lifts her head, looking to see what Alice is doing from where she’s laid herself halfway underneath the table. Early Taylor Swift starts playing and Alice returns to her space at the table.

Xena settles and lets out a big sigh, not her first one for the day, and Omen again wonders for how long could dogs do that and how had he not known, why had no one told him, and what does it mean? Do dogs sigh for the same reasons as people?

He puts this piece of card over on the failure board and gets another, swapping his knife back for a pencil. It’s a yellow one from Alice’s collection that she’s allowed him to borrow, citing it as being too bright, and he uses it now to draw out the same sigil design for, what, the millionth time? This part is easy, it’s been easy for the whole set he’s been working on up until now. Omen can draw the sigils like the best of them – though not really, he has to remind himself to keep from getting a big head – but the drawing isn’t the purpose of the exercise, it’s the carving. He’s still thankful that he’s allowed to trace the way he has been doing, even if it really doesn’t feel like it’s been helping him any.

Alice taps him on the arm twice after he’s finished drawing, immediately withdrawing back into her own space and gathering her hands in her lap. She’s been quiet today. Omen hasn’t known what to do except occasionally look over at her and feel bad, not having a clue on how to comfort little kids – or okay, maybe not comfort, but, reassure? Something like that. Anyway, he almost fully turns to her now, making his eyes wide in the belief that it’ll come across as super accommodating and non-threatening.

“Hey,” says Omen awkwardly. “What’s up?”

She points across the table, to the scraps on the acrylic board. “Can I colour those?”

“Oh! Yeah, sure, let me just–” Omen gathers the scraps up into his hands and sets them down with Alice’s printer paper. “There.”

She examines the little cardstock squares. There’s dozens upon dozens, many test runs and failures from his work over the day. Omen looks at the stack of completed carvings he set at the top corner of the wooden board and sags at how few there are. So much waste for so little work. But Alice doesn’t seem to think of it as waste at all, not as she looks through them and sticks her little fingers through some of the cuts in the paper.

“Are you making snails?”

Omen blinks rapidly as he tries to process this – kids are on a different level. He looks down at the collection of half-carved sigil drawings and attempts to find something snail-like about them. One of the designs is heavily reliant on spirals. Is it the spirals? It could be the spirals.

“Uh, no,” he says. “They’re like,” he pauses to think, “kind of like letters? It’s for one of my classes.”

“What language is it?” asks Alice, setting to work filling between the lines of one of the sigils with a nice powdery blue. She sounds brighter already, at the very least more eager to talk – not looking at Omen probably makes it easier. “Is it a magic language?”

“I don’t know,” he badly lies.

“Oh.”

Silence passes, and Omen shivers at a nonexistent breeze. “It’s like a code,” he offers.

“Oh,” Alice says again, though in a completely different way. She finishes with the powdery blue and starts filling in gaps with a pale green. She nods at the card in a most knowledgeable manner as she reveals, “I know about codes.”

It must be a good thing that she’s talking to him now, right? She’d been looking distracted today, focused elsewhere, on something beyond her own drawings. Maybe nothing at all. And that had worried Omen a bit. Like, Omen likes Alice, she’s a good kid, he doesn’t want her to be sad or anything. He’d have struck up a conversation with her to see if it would help, it’s just that he doesn’t know how to be friends with a kid. What’s even a good thing to say to a kid? Valkyrie’s rule – magic is okay to mention, but not demonstrate – stresses Omen out enough. He worries he’ll say or do the wrong thing and ruin Alice forever. More than he already has.

“What codes do you know about?” asks Omen.

Alice lifts her head and taps her chin for a moment, then shrugs and goes back to colouring in another sigil. “My dad can speak pig latin, he’s really good at it. That means I must be good at it, too.” She meets his eye, looking a little chuffed. “I’m good at lots of things.”

“I bet!” Oh god that sounded so fake.

But Alice beams, and Omen breathes a sigh of relief. Perhaps that’s the trick he’s gotta use – kids respond well to exaggeration, don’t they?

Alice goes on, “I’m going to be so good at whatever I want when I’m a grown-up. That’s what Stephanie says.”

“She’s right! You’ll be great, whatever you do!” Okay now this is a bit much. Omen sucks in a breath and tries to tone it down, tilting his head at the girl. “What, er. What do you want to do, Alice?” Because that’s something you ask kids, yeah? He gets asked it all the time.

...he used to. He used to get asked it all the time. No one asks him much of anything anymore.

“I want to do magic,” admits Alice a bit shyly, and Omen realises this is like a big moment for her and he shouldn’t get so caught up in his moping. “I think about it loads, and I know exactly what I’ll do! I’ll have a big wand with a star on top, and I’ll have fairy wings and definitely be able to fly, and when I wave my wand at someone they have to do what I say.” She turns one of her pencils in her hand, trying to find a good spell-casting position, miming fancy flourishes. “I’ll make shooting stars with my hands, and people can wish on them but I’m in charge of what wishes actually happen.”

He nods along dumbly. “Rad.”

Alice feels the same way. She climbs up to her feet. “I’ll show you. I’ll do like this.” She waves the pencil at Xena, who lifts her head, ears pricked and tail starting to wag. “Xena,” Alice says. “Stand up.”

The dog obeys, fully coming out from under the table. She looks between Alice and Omen expectantly, like playtime is about to begin – which Omen dreads. But when Alice tells Xena to sit again, she does, and now they’re cycling through all sorts of tricks. Roll over, shake hands. The whole arsenal. It’s very impressive, but Alice grows bored with the demonstration soon enough and wants to keep colouring. She retakes her place on the floor, only now with Xena lying beside her with her head on her leg.

Omen clicks his tongue against his teeth and looks towards the entryway to the living room. He puts his hands back on his knees and rocks himself into a stand.

“I think I’m gonna go look for your sister,” he tells Alice. “Are you okay staying here?”

“Yes,” replies Alice mindlessly, before snapping her head up at him. Panic swims in her eyes. “You’re not going to tell on me, are you?”

Omen balks. “Tell on you for what?”

“Doing magic,” she cries. “I want to wait until I’m really good before showing Stephanie.” She points her pencil at him with utmost seriousness. “Don’t tell Stephanie!” Alice commands.

He raises his hands defensively, eyebrows shot up as far as they can go. “Hey, it’s cool. I won’t.”

“You better not!”

“I won’t, Alice, I said it’s cool!”

She seems satisfied with this, and returns to drawing little stars around one of his sigils. Xena doesn’t lift her head, but she looks at Omen with her dog eyes, with a very...doggish look. You know how sometimes a dog’ll look at you and you know they’re thinking something? Omen feels like he’s been looked at that way by many a dog. He offers his hands to Xena, speaking quietly, almost as if he’s afraid of addressing her. Not in a scared-of-dogs sort of way, more in a scared-of-librarians way, but now that Omen is thinking about it he figures dogs are kind of like librarians. A silent authority.

“You stay there,” he says. “Good girl. I’ll be right back.”

“She only listens to me,” Alice claims without looking up.

Omen doesn’t know what to say to this, so he just turns and heads out of the living room.

The strange, special peace of Valkyrie Cain’s house slowly returns to him as he makes his way through it. It’s not quite an exploration, as he’s been here before and has a general idea of what goes where, but it’s definitely not a search either, he moves much too unhurriedly. He thinks maybe he shouldn’t, maybe he should hurry. Maybe the reason why Valkyrie’s been gone for so long is that something terrible happened, there’s some monster or serial killer loose in the house–

Omen takes in a deep breath and squares his shoulders. There is not a monster or serial killer loose in the house, he very calmly tells himself. Something terrible has not happened. Valkyrie has been gone only twenty minutes. Maybe she’s in the toilet. Omen pulls a face at the thought; in the toilet for twenty minutes, you fool? You think Valkyrie Cain gets constipated? You think she wouldn’t have that worked out? Flustered at his own line of thinking, Omen needs to rapidly decide what she’s been up to. Valkyrie’s been– she’s been... He catches his reflection in a mirror, and the peace has fully evaporated once more.

“Avoiding you, probably,” he mutters. “You stupid git.”

She must have only let him hang out here out of pity. She must’ve read his message and scoffed at how pathetic he is. What kind of guy wants to do his homework at barely an acquaintance’s house? What kind of guy can’t handle the school library by himself anymore?

Perhaps because that’s what he is; by himself, most unavoidably. Unwanted wherever he goes, promoted from dumb idiot friend and brother to an even dumber idiot third wheel. A useless lump of a person with no aspirations, all the more useless now that the world is done with his family. What he’d give to be there for his brother in this time, to help him through it – but that spot’s taken for Auger, and resultantly empty for Omen.

He points at himself. “You need to quit whining,” he nearly snaps. “And you need to stop being so hard on yourself. You dumb– fucking…”

Omen has a little sit in the hallway for a few minutes, fists pressed against his mouth as he looks at the weird and wonderful design of the rug. In fact, he can spot a few sigils weaved in there, that’s pretty cool. Did Valkyrie pick out this rug? Was it a gift? It’s in good condition but it’s probably pretty old – the faint smell helps attest to that. Maybe her uncle had more to do with this rug than she did, or maybe it was here way before either of them. Who knows! The mystery of the rug.

Gordon Edgley, Omen assumes, probably loved Valkyrie very much. Certainly enough to leave her this big house and its peace. It would be nice to be loved, to be left something. To have peace. He gets up.

Valkyrie is one floor higher, in a slightly unkempt yet clearly underused office. She stands at the desk, a journal splayed open on its surface as she takes pictures of the pages on her phone, sending them off somewhere. Omen watches her do this for a minute, wondering if he’s become good at sneaking around; thinking perhaps she hasn’t noticed him.

“You right there, Omen,” Valkyrie eventually says without looking up, not asking a question as much as she is crushing his dreams of stealth.

He sags and takes one step into the office, but comes no further than that. “I was just, ah… I just thought– I thought, you’d been gone a little while. Alice might be missing you. Or something.”

Valkyrie stuffs her phone in her back trouser pocket, then immediately takes it out again to check the time on the lock screen before putting it back. “Should get her home before long.”

Omen reverses back into the hallway. “Oh, yeah, um. I’ll leave soon, too.”

She fully turns around, leaning against the desk, and actually, properly looks at him now. Looks and sees, maybe even comprehends. Not likely on that last one, though; no pity has crossed her face yet. “Yeah, if you want. But no rush, Omen, you can chill here as long as you need.”

His first instinct is to argue for something he doesn’t even want. He clasps his hands behind his back instead. “Thanks.”

She folds her arms over her chest and tilts her head to the side. “You sure you’re alright?” He hadn’t said he was. “You seem a bit lost, there.”

“Oh, you know.” Omen fidgets and tries for a joking tone, “Aren’t we all?”

Valkyrie nods sagely, reaching to the desk behind her to close the journal. “Wise words, Darkly.”

Something about this little exchange has made him feel better. Maybe it’s this new, more positive energy that Valkyrie is radiating, how she smiles unbidden at her phone when it buzzes at her for something. Omen almost feels comfortable enough to attempt a more meaningful discussion, but there really is no easy opener for any of what he has on his mind, nor a point to saying any of it aloud. Despite this good mood she’s been in, she probably wouldn’t care in the slightest.

Which is fine, because she is a grown woman with her own life and her own problems, Omen is sure to tell himself.

Valkyrie pockets her phone again and straightens up, exits the office and starts going down the hallway. Omen watches her, and she must hear that he’s not following because she glances back and waves him over.

“Get with the program,” she says sharply, but with good humour. “When I was your age and people started walking away, I knew it was time,” she snaps her fingers, “to get fuckin’ moving.”

“Sorry,” says Omen as he hurries up beside her. “Am I annoying you? I’m probably just getting in your way.”

She looks at him and laughs. “I just asked you to follow me! Relax, Omen, you know I like you.”

“Right, gotcha. Thank you.”

“Some of the time.”

He blinks. Valkyrie nudges him with her elbow.

“More than some of the time,” she says like she’s paying him a compliment.

“Ha,” Omen replies, feeling bolstered but still kind of stumbling on his next words, “I guess there’s times where I can stand you, too.”

Valkyrie’s laugh is a roll of thunder. “You cheeky fucker!”

they were gonna come back to alice and see that she’d started colouring in omen’s proper, completed homework sigils and accidentally activated one (just a little glowy thing, nothing dangerous), and after taking her home valkyrie was gonna ask omen about it and he was gonna tell her about what alice said about doing magic – but then it’d turn out that he literally can’t. when she waves her wand at someone they have to do what she says.

i also wanted to explore valkyrie and omen being friends now that valkyrie’s up for it. she’s taking pictures of werewolf entries in gordon’s books and sending them on to skulduggery, fyi, then smiling when he texts back a joke or some shit. valdug was gonna have a werewolf adventure. and ofc omen dealing with post-prophecy angst.

but alice accidentally doing magic!! HOOH BOYy

maybe i’ll try in comic form.

#no tags we get 3 notes and feel grateful

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bellemorte180 · 4 years

Text

If I Die Before I Wake: Chapter Two

Vengeance is defined as punishment or retribution for a wrong committed against another. A single curse could derail and weaken the most powerful being in the world. A single massacre could take the entire world in one go; but it could centuries to execute the perfect vengeance.

Chapter Two

Mystic Falls April 2010

The mansion was huge and falling to pieces. Yet, Klaus saw its potential. For the last hundred and forty five years, he had to live without Caroline. In order to feel as though she was still with him, he tried to see the world as she would have; a difficulty because he didn't have the light that she did. She would have looked at that run down home and took it on as a project. She would make it beautiful; commanding the reconstruction as though she was the captain of a ship. Klaus knew that he would make it their home for the short time after she was returned to him.

After he broke his curse in Spain and then murdered his father, Klaus built her an entire city to call their home. Perhaps one day they would return to New Orleans but Mystic Falls would have to due for a small while. Freya had collected massive amounts of information in the last century and he knew that Caroline would be weak at first and it would be best if she rested before taking her place as his queen. In truth, Klaus had not been king since he lost her and it would take him some time before he was able to let Caroline out of his sight before he could take on that responsibility right away.

So a mansion would due for a time. She would put her stamp on it and that brought a smile to Klaus's features. He could already see her now; commanding the compelled construction workers to make everything perfect. Caroline was nothing if not a perfectionist.

Making such plans in his mind, Klas needed to actually see her. He spent decades in New Orleans after he lost her, never really leaving her side; contacting every witch he knew but few were helpful. It wasn't until he massacred an entire coven in the heart of the French Quarter that he handed over the keys to the city to Marcel, along with the remainder of his daggered family and his wife, and fled with Freya in search of something; anything that would help him.

Since then he would only return once a year to have a glimpse of her.

Klaus passed the builders and architects and made his way to the basement of the house and saw the five coffins that lined the back wall. He completely bypassed his mothers' and touched the ones belonging to his siblings lightly. When he reached Caroline's, he opened the lid and gazed down at her perfect face. It wasn't gray or decayed; it was as perfect as it was the day he saw her at the summer festival in the small village over a thousand years ago. She looked as though she was sleeping but it was wrong. Caroline always had a small smile playing at her lips when in the deepest of slumbers. She would moaned and toss in her sleep. This perfect stillness was not the wife he slept beside for eight hundred years. Klaus leaned down and kissed her forehead, saving the scent of her.

“Soon Sweetheart. Soon I will have you back in my arms.” He inhaled her scent again and listened as the stairs creaked behind him. He pulled backed and touched her head one last time before closing the coffin. “Hello Elijah.”

“Niklaus.” The older of the two replied. Klaus turned and saw his brother standing at the base of the stairs. He looked impeccable, in a fresh cut suit and nothing out of place. Klaus wasn't surprised. His brother always had a taste for best of fashion. “I see the rest of the family is in-tacked and I am pleased to see that you have not driven a white oak stake through Kol's heart.”

“Do not mention his name to me.” Klaus hissed.

“Nine decades and you still hold it against him.”

“How would you know, you abandoned me when I put the dagger in his heart.” Elijah just shook his head. “He would have woken her with those objects that coven was collecting. He would have brought her back but it wouldn't have been her Elijah; just some demon wearing her face.” He remembered hearing that there might have been a way for Caroline to wake from her slumber but when Freya explained the consequences to Elijah, Klaus set out to stop his brother from putting out Caroline's light completely.

“You were loosing your touch with humanity Klaus. We wanted nothing more to bring Caroline back in order to fix our family. He was wrong to go about it in such a manner but we were desperate.” Elijah looked at his younger brother and saw the same torment that plagued him since that fateful day in 1864 when Caroline crumbled, blood spewing from her lips as she fell into a never ending sleep. “I never really left you Niklaus. Who do you think helped Freya when she had a lead? Who stood by her side hunting down answers when you couldn't?”

Klaus looked down at the ground and gripped the wood of the coffin. Elijah stepped forward and placed a hand on his shoulder. He knew the torment that Klaus was feeling. He listened to Freya's every word when she told him how erratic Klaus had become. Then in the 1950s, his brother fell off the face of the earth completely, going into seclusion with only Freya and Marcel having access to him.

“We are almost there. The last piece of the puzzle is here in Mystic Falls. We will collect her and come the full moon, everything will be as it should be. Caroline will be awake and the two of you will be as you always have been.” Klaus looked at his brother in the eye and Elijah could see tears in them. He remembered the howls of agony Klaus had screamed for weeks and months on end when Caroline first fell.

“All I want is Caroline. What do you want?”

“I want my family reunited Niklaus. I want what we had in New Orleans before this mess landed on our doorstep. I want Rebekah to find love again. Kol to be well, Kol.” Elijah signed. “And I want to see that look in your eyes every time Caroline steps into a room. I want to hear her laughter ring through our home as she scolds you for something you have done.” That made Klaus smile. Caroline was never one to hold back her thoughts and she was the only one who could get away with it. As quickly as the smile came, it vanished.

“Fine.” Klaus stalked away from him and opened Rebekah's coffin. He grabbed the dagger and pulled it out of her chest. “Time to wake up little sister.” He looked at Elijah and handed him the dagger. “Tell her I'm sorry. Tell her that I will make it right.” He looked at the other two coffins. “Wake Kol but tell him I'm still furious with him. Bloody hell, wake Finn too if you must.”

Damon was pissed. Furious. He had not felt anger like this in a very long time. What could she have possibly been thinking? Going to see Katherine? When Stefan realized that she was gone and that Bonnie was missing as well, they went into a frenzy. Had Klaus come to town and snatched her under their noses? When they flashed through the town and into the woods, finding Bonnie alone by the tomb, Damon realized that Elena was stupid enough to go down there alone searching for answers.

“She could have killed you and she would have for shits and giggles!” Damon hissed at her as he slammed the door of his chevy camaro. Elena narrowed her eyes and ran her hands through her long brown hair in frustration. She followed him out of the car, not noticing if Stefan and Bonnie got out as well. Damon has been furious since they found Bonnie and herself. Stefan ran to her side, checking to see if she was well but it was Damon's furious blue eyes that she saw. Elena couldn't explain it but Damon's fury, infuriated her with equal measure. While she loved Stefan with her entire heart, there was something about Damon that lit her veins on fire.

“I needed answers Damon. We have found nothing on Klaus other than whispers. There are vampires out there that believe he is nothing more than a legend!” Elena yelled back. “If he is coming after me I want to know why! Katherine is the only person we know who has met him! She knows why he is coming to Mystic Falls and I think she was about to tell me what he wants with me before you rudely pulled me out of the tomb!”

“It doesn't matter why he wants you! The only thing that matters is that he is not going to get to you! At least he won't if you stay under our protection!” Damon practically yelled. “Whatever Katherine did to piss off the oldest vampire in all creation is something she can pay for; you're not paying for her sins Elena!”

“Damon.” Stefan tried to cut in but Elena cut him off completely.

“She said I was the doppelganger! I don't know what that means but he tried to drain her of her blood in order to break some curse! He did it again in 1702! He has a pattern and now he is coming for someone who looks like me!”

“Well if you would listen to me maybe he won't even get near you!”

“Damon.”

“He wants to get his wife back!”

“Damon”

“I don't care what he wants!”

“Damon!”

“What!” Damon snapped and looked at Stefan. The younger Salvator brother just pointed to the boarding house and Damon's eyes widened. Something was off and they could sense that someone was inside. Someone they didn't know. Damon flashed to stand in front of Elena. “Do not leave my side.” Elena nodded but grabbed Stefan's hand.

Slowly, all four of them approached the front door. Both Stefan and Damon where shielding Elena while they left Bonnie completely unguarded. Damon pushed the door open and reviled the living room and the big fireplace on the other end. Once they entered the boarding house, they noticed that there was a man seated in one of he leather chairs in front of the fire place. His legs were stretched out and a glass of bourbon in his hand. Beside him stood a tall blonde woman with short blond hair.

“It is rather reckless to leave a vampire's home open. Word of advice; put the title into a human's name.” The woman spoke gently and they all could tell that, despite the massive power that radiated from her, she wasn't a vampire. The man who took one last sip of bourbon before tossing it into the fire, was; and an extremely old one at that. Damon thought of the feeling he had when he met Rose and realized that she had been an infant compared the man before them.

“And it is rather rude to keep guest waiting.” The man stated and stood. He was tall but not overbearingly so. His blonde hair was kept short and he wore a dark Henley paired with an expensive pair of jeans. Silver chains hung from his neck and a devilish smirk haunted his lips.

“It is when you're expecting them.” Stefan replied and that smirk on the other man's lips grew wide. He seemed amused and that nerved the rest of them. “You, we were not expecting.”

“Rippah!” Both Damon and Stefan froze. It was clear that they had not expected for anyone else to be aware of that part of Stefan's personality. He had been not fallen from the band wagon in decades and most of the people who knew that side of him were dead. “I apologize. I supposed I should introduce myself. The name is Klaus.” While none of them were surprised at this news, their eyes widened slightly. “Ah, you've heard of me. Fantastic.”

“Niklaus.” He turned to the blonde woman whose arms were crossed. She smirked at him and raised her eyebrow in question.

“My apologizes. Let me introduce my sister Freya.” Freya moved towards Klaus, her spiked heeled boots hit the hardwood floor. Standing side by side, the rest could see the familiar resemblance. “Now that the pleasantries are out of the way, I believe I will take what I came for. Step aside boys if you please.” Neither Damon nor Stefan were willing to back down and simply let Klaus take Elena. They both flashed towards the intruders but neither made it. Freya didn't even flick her wrist and both vampires went flying towards opposite walls; their bodies being pinned against the wood. Neither could move and Freya made it appear effortless. “Ah, yes. I wouldn't get in her way. My sister is a powerful witch and don't let that flawless skin fool you, she is a millennia old.”

The smirk returned and Klaus stepped forward, making his way towards the remaining girls. His movements were predatory and stalking. Both Damon and Stefan struggled against their invisible bonds; neither succeeded in breaking free. Elena's heartbeat increased, her blood pounding through her veins as Klaus got closer. She couldn't help but take a few steps back, almost stumbling as she went. Klaus got closer and closer, the manic smirk playing at his lips. He was only steps away. Closer and closer....

And he completely bypassed Elena.

Klaus didn't spare her a glance. Instead he stood directly in front of Bonnie and gazed down at her.

“You have no idea how long I've searched for you little witch. I need you to cast a little spell for me.”

New Orleans December 1914

Freya's heart beat rapidly in her chest. Her breathing was heavy and her eyes flickered around the abandoned building as she laid on the floor. Her palms were flat against the ground and her back arched to see the three men now glaring down at her. Bodies littered the floor and in the center of the now dead coven was the brother who found her. The brother whose face she first saw when she awoke nearly a year prior.

Kol laid in the center as his skin turned gray and a dagger stuck in his chest. She told him that it wouldn't work; that dark magic was not the way to break the spell. Yet, he didn't trust her and was going to trust the coven he played around with. Kol loved witches and it was for that reason Klaus pulled that dagger from his chest in the first place. He needed a witch and Kol knew the most about them; but now he was going to do something that would ruin everything. Freya wanted one thing, a family and Kol was getting impatient. He was about to do something that would be irreversible. If Freya had not run to Elijah, completely aware that he had no idea of who she really was, everything would have been lost.

Now she looked up to Klaus, whose long black coat was covered in blood, Elijah and Marcel. The two latter ones seemed uneasy but Klaus's extreme violence and complete massacre of the only coven who seemed to be willing to help him. Klaus bent down in order to be eye level with her. He reached out and took Freya's neck into his hand and slammed her into the wall behind her. He pressed himself against her, smearing blood on her white lace dress, and whispered in her ear.

“Now tell me why I just slaughtered the coven who was close to waking my wife on the mere word of a witch I've never met?” His tone was deadly and Freya could see his eyes turning yellow. She had heard stories of the wolf that lived beneath his skin and now she was mere inches from his teeth. “Leave nothing out.”

“Kol wanted to use dark magic to rise Caroline. He needed special objects; dark objects. Objects that were cursed.” Klaus's gripped tightened. “Using those objects may have awoken her but it wouldn't have been her, not really. It would have been something else wearing her face. Your wife would have been completely gone.”

“Kol wouldn't do that. Caroline was like a sister to him.”

“The coven thought they could change the formula for the spell. Similar to how your mother did when she changed Qetsiyah's immortality spell when she turned you into vampires.” A brief look of confusion crossed his face, never having heard the ancient greek name before. “Another spell. Another story. Kol was obsessed with it. He thought he could guide the witches into tampering with the sleeping spell put on Caroline.”

“Would it have worked?”

“No.” Klaus dropped her and Freya gripped her neck; coughing. Klaus flashed towards Elijah and Marcel. The three conversed, as though they were deciding her fate. She couldn't help but look at the dead bodies of the witches who hid her; who saved her even if it was only temporary. Freya moved to stand, bracing herself against the wall as Klaus looked at her again. If Klaus was going to kill her, at least this death would be better than the fate that awaited her elsewhere. “I can help you.”

“And how may that be?”

“I'm an expert in sleeping spells; having been the victim of one.” This peaked, not only Klaus's interest but Elijah's as well. “I was raised by my aunt Dahlia. A very powerful witch. She became obsessed with immortality when.....it doesn't matter. She found a way to grow our power but it requires us to sleep for a hundred year and only one year awake.”

“Can you wake Caroline?” His voice was fragile and she could see the wheels turning in his head. Could he stand to only have one year with her while she slept for a hundred? It would be better than the current misery he had now and better than some fake monster wearing her skin; but it wasn't the eternity he promised her as they ran from Mikael.

“No.” She saw the fury cross his face. It looked as though he was about to strike. “But I know who can. The spell, I've glanced at it in the grimoire of the witch who casted it. The spell was very specific. The only way for it to be broken, truly broken and for Caroline to rise would be for the witch who cast the spell or a daughter of her bloodline to undo the spell.”

“So I need a descendant of Emily Bennett's?”

“Yes. I can help you find her but I'm running out of time.” Klaus looked at her curiously. “The coven was hiding me and studying me. Kol found the coffin I rested in. Stole me away while Dahlia slumbered. He thought he could use me to wake Caroline. However, my year is almost up and Dahlia will find me to curse me back to sleep with her.”

“Not seeing how that is my problem.”

“Niklaus.” Elijah warned. Klaus rolled his eyes and waived for Freya to continue.

“If you want my help. If you want my knowledge on sleeping spells and how to break them, I am going need more than two weeks time. The only way to break my curse is to kill the one who casted it.” Klaus was about to jump in and call her a liar but Elijah stopped him with a warning look. “I know what you're thinking, Emily Bennett is dead but spell upon Caroline still holds. Dahlia uses connective magic. Meaning, any spells she casts break with her death. The Bennetts all draw their magic from their ancestors dead or alive, much like the witches here in New Orleans. Emily may have died but her spell would hold strong unless there was a witch to break it.”

“Perhaps I should track down the entire line of Bennetts and kill them all. No bloodline, no magic. Although, I have tried to find the last of the Bennetts and they are well hidden. Another little trick of Emily's and the doppelgangers is suppose.” Klaus hissed. It was only months after he lost Caroline that he discovered who cast the spell and who was behind it. Yet, it was as though all the Bennetts vanished. The ones in Salem burned and it appeared the rest just...never existed. Someone was hiding them from him and he was furious that he never thought more on it.

“You could but do you want to risk that? Do want to risk killing them all and having none left to wake her?” She had him and she knew it. Marcel stepped forward and placed a white gloved hand on Klaus's shoulder. He whispered something, causing Klaus to nod.

“If I kill this Dahlia, you'll spend the years you were meant to be asleep, helping me find the witch and anything else needed to wake her.” Freya nodded, giving her vow. “Very well then. It appears I have some witch hunting to do and two weeks to do it.” He looked at her again, as though he was really seeing her for the first time. “Who are you?”

“Freya. Freya Mikaelson.”

Mystic Falls April 2010

“I'm not doing any spells for you.” Bonnie hissed. Her eyes narrowed and her fist balled; nails digging into the palm of her hand. She tried to cause the vessels in his brain to pop, over and over again just like she had done to Damon at least a hundred times. Yet, it appeared as though it didn't work on him or the pain just didn't faze him. Bonnie supposed it was the other witch blocking her spells. “You have your own witch. Have her do it.”

“Now, now, don't be hasty. Your ancestor, Emily cast a spell and it appears only someone of her bloodline can undo. Which is why I need you.” Klaus stated in a matter of fact tone. To him the choice was obvious. “I need you to wake Caroline from her slumber and all will be right with the world.”

“I refuse to wake a murderous vampire, especially if she was your wife.” Klaus smirked at her. It was unnerving and caused Bonnie to panic. There was mania behind those ancient eyes and she saw the shift of something inside of him. Bonnie wished she asked more about the curse that Elena stated he broke in the 1700s. He wasn't just the average vampire. He was something more. Something more terrifying than she had every seen.

“Looks like someone has done their homework. Yes, Caroline is my wife and my entire reason for existing. And if you think she is murderous, she is, but trust me, my sweet little witch, when I tell you that she is the one who tamed me. Caroline's worst days are my best.” Klaus leaned in and whispered to her. “I am the demon monsters have nightmares of.”

Suddenly he was away from her and both Damon and Stefan screamed. Klaus had Elena in his arms. His eyes changed completely and his fangs bared out. He savagely bit into Elena's neck, ripping and tearing. She screamed, the pain was excruciating. Bonnie tried to lunge forward but an invisible barrier prevented her from reaching them. She glanced at Freya who seemed to have not moved at all yet Bonnie could feel her magic beating against her. Soon, Klaus dropped, a still alive but injured Elena to the ground.

“Doppelganger blood. Taste the same as the rest of them.” Klaus's lips and chin were covered in blood. The blood ran down his chin and to his neck. He smiled and Bonnie could see that his teeth were covered in the same red liquid that was seeping from Elena's neck. “Let me tell you witch how this will go. Refuse to help me, I kill your friend. I will slaughter her and drain her of her blood just like I had with her ancestor. Then I will bite both of those vampires hanging on the wall and have you watch as they die a slow, hallucinating death from my wolf's venom. But you, you have the worst punishment of all.”

“And what would that be?”

“Well once all your friends are dead, I will naturally slaughter what is left of your family. I then will hold you until you break down and undo the spell. If you try to run, I will hunt you down just like I spent the last five hundred years seeking Katerina. Ask her for tips and advice on what a life on the run from me is like. If you continue to be stubborn, I will find someone to take you over and over again until you bare a child. A child that I would raise as my own for the soul purpose of waking my wife.”

“You really are a monster.” Bonnie whispered out, horrified. She had thought that Damon was evil but he was nothing compared to what stood in front of her. He was child's play and she wanted nothing more than to go back to the days when they were scared of the vampires hidden away in that tomb. She would rather have a picnic with Katherine than spend another second with Klaus.

“I'm the original monster. Do we have a deal?” Bonnie nodded. “Perfect! Freya is going to stay behind. She has Emily's old grimoire, I'm sure you will find it fascinating. She will teach you everything you need to know about the spell. When does it need to be preformed?”

“At the full moon.” Freya replied in an almost bored tone. “Five days.”

“Splendid. I do hope you're a fast study.” Klaus turned to his sister. “Freya, please drop Salvator the younger please, I need a sign of good faith.” Freya did just that and Stefan crashed to the floor. Klaus took him by the shoulders and peered deeply into his eyes. “Remember me.” Stefan staggered backwards and slid down the wall; a thousand memories rushing back to him at once. Damon cried out, wondering what Klaus had done. If he didn't believe his eyes, he would say that his brother had been compelled, but that wasn't possible, was it? “Now, leverage.” He bent down to Elena and picked her off the floor; throwing her over his shoulder. “I'll be keeping this one. You know, to keep you in line.”

Klaus was out the door before anyone could say anything at all...and Elena was gone.

#klaroline fanfiction #caroline x klaus #klaus mikaelson #caroline forbes

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hookedontaronfics · 5 years

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Honky Dancer series - Chapter 4

Chapter title: Piano keys and heartstrings Read the previous installments here: Chapter 1 | Chapter 2 | Chapter 3 Rating: M Pairing: Taron x OC Warnings: Slight cursing, alcohol use, sexual tension A/N: Plenty of fluffy fluff and feels in this chapter! More mature themes will develop, so be warned! Enjoy! X

My first inkling of the jealousy my friendship with Taron, and by association Richard, had caused came that very next day. I had just made it to the studios and ran to the bathrooms, my bladder about to burst as the tube had been running extraordinarily behind that day. I shut myself into a stall, wrestled my way out of my leotard and tried to stop the moan of relief as I finally was able to pee just as a group of girls pushed their way in, chattering among themselves. I recognized their voices almost immediately; there were four dancers, all of them from the same kickline team, who had had nothing to do with anyone but themselves. They were cliquey and snotty and incredibly lucky they were talented because they sure wouldn’t be picked based on their personalities.

“I don’t know why that twiggy bitch thinks she’s better than anyone else,” one of the girls said.

“Ugh, I know Riley. She’s got nothing on you but all they do is pay attention to her. Like she’s special or something.”

“She’s not even that pretty,” one of the other girls sniffed. I had to roll my eyes as I realized they were talking about me. The next thing they said was lost to me as I flushed the toilet and had the satisfaction of the girls all falling dead silent when I popped the door open and stepped out. I just gave my most winning smile to their expressions of surprise reflected in the mirror while I washed my hands, and left the bathroom with my head held high. I promised myself to take the high road with those girls although I didn’t understand their jealousy really.

I hadn’t expected or sought out Taron’s friendship at all. If anything it really had fallen into my lap, or rather, I had fallen into it, quite literally. I would have loved to have rubbed it in their faces that I had a date Saturday night with him, but people like that rarely learned and it would only add fuel to their jealous fire. Twiggy bitch, though, that was a new one.

I made my way to the studio and plopped down next to Leah, needing to avoid Markus for the moment if I could. I started warming myself up, and Markus was trying to make eye contact with me. I just couldn’t handle putting on a show for him for the moment, so instead I turned to Leah and told her what the other girls had said about me and she instantly sympathized.

“You shouldn’t listen to a bloody thing those girls say. Bad apples in every bunch, you know,” she shrugged. “Besides, I think it’s nice that Taron is chummy with you. You seem to put him at ease when he’s around you,” she grinned.

“Really?” I said a bit nervously. I hadn’t ever thought of it that way before.

“You make everyone around you feel more comfortable and confident. Look at Pietre, for example,” Leah said, waving her hand over at my tow-headed friend, who was casually chatting with a couple of other guys. “When he came in here he didn’t say a word to anyone and I didn’t even think he was going to be able to make it through auditions. But your encouragement and support really helped him come out of his shell. And I think Taron’s been a bit anxious until he sees you and then he just lights up. That’s a very special quality you have. You’re like the mother hen to all of us, but in the most supportive way possible.”

“That’s … incredibly kind of you,” I said softly, feeling incredibly humbled.

“So it’s any wonder that he gravitated to you. If I only had half the magnetism you possess...,” she laughed.

“I totally owe you a lunch or something now,” I said, overwhelmed by the sweet words.

“What, for saying something that’s true?” she asked, so nonchalantly I’m not sure she realized how much it had hit me in the heart.

We were busy through rehearsals and I could instantly tell that Taron was already feeling more confident, being playful with the routine and not having to concentrate so hard on the steps themselves. My heart especially soared when he effortlessly nailed that move we’d worked so hard on; to be a part of helping him exude that confidence made me feel a bit proud. No one else had to know that, of course. It would stay our little secret.

Once rehearsals were over, Markus immediately came up to me, telling me how much he’d missed seeing me yesterday when we didn’t have rehearsals; a part of me felt instantly bad for the things I had been thinking after our date night. Looking at those puppy dog eyes he was giving me now, I really wondered if I was just being a bitch to him, so I vowed to myself that I would give him a chance when I wasn’t being a drunken idiot.

“Yeah, I missed you too,” I smiled genuinely, appreciating the way his sweaty shirt clung to the muscles of his chest. He was an incredibly sculpted man, I can tell you that.

“We should hang out again soon, maybe Saturday?” he offered, and I had to shake my head.

“I already have plans, sorry,” I said, trying to play up being chagrined even though those plans were with Taron, and I was very much looking forward to it. “But maybe we could catch up on Monday after rehearsals?”

“That sounds lovely,” he said, giving me a toothy smile that lit up his whole face. Okay, it wasn’t Taron’s crinkly-eyed smile, but it was still cute.

“Can I ask you a kind of personal thing?” I said, looking around me just to make sure no one was over-hearing us, but everyone was caught up in their own conversations. He nodded and I had to gather up my courage to ask. “Did you wear a condom when we slept together? Because I don’t really remember that and I feel like I need to know.”

“Well no, I didn’t. You’re on the pill, right?” he replied with a bit of a shrug, and I felt my heart stutter a little bit in my chest. Shit.

“I’m not, Markus. It’s always messed my body up really badly, so I can’t take it,” I said, cringing slightly. How could he just assume that about every girl he slept with? What a massive oversight.

“Ahhhh,” he said, seeming surprised at least but not nearly as worried as I felt he should be. “We’ll talk about this later, when we have some one-on-one time,” he said, looking over my shoulder. I turned around and spotted Taron walking toward us, and he looked from my worried expression to Markus’ startled one, and at once seemed concerned.

“Everything alright?” He asked as he sidled up next to me, placing a hand gently at the small of my back. That wasn’t lost on Markus as he drew himself up to his full height in some weird kind of effort to intimidate Taron.

“We’re doing perfectly well over here, thanks,” Markus replied in a steely manner as they both stared each other down.

“Well, I was just heading out, so… I’ll see you two later,” I replied, not willing to be in the center of whatever this was turning out to be. Markus was threatened by Taron, and Taron was jealous of Markus; neither of them had any need to feel those things, but the tension was making me feel uncomfortable. Taron seemed to read that vibe from me though and backed down slightly, but I still hurriedly grabbed my bag and shuffled out of the room without giving either of them a glance backward.

I had other things to freak out about, like the fact that Markus could potentially have gotten me pregnant. It was mostly unlikely but not totally impossible, and I still had two weeks to go until my next period. It was going to be a very long, anxious two weeks. Another baby would probably completely derail everything I’d worked so hard to build, especially with a guy I wasn’t 100 percent into. The idea of it felt rather devastating, no matter how much I loved my daughter, and all of this fear made me feel even more confused.

I took the tube home and fell face first onto my couch, completely exhausted. Between maintaining classes, Rocketman rehearsals, being a mom and now this new weird balancing act between Markus and Taron, I could barely handle my emotions or keep myself awake. Still, my phone pinged with a text and I made myself dig my phone out of my purse and focus on the text.

<Is everything really alright? You looked so completely upset when I walked up.> Taron had texted me.

<I’m not really sure to be honest, Taron, but I’ll figure it out. I have to.>

<You will and I’m here to support you fully. If you need anything at all, let me know, okay?> he sent back, making my heart twinge slightly. I didn’t deserve his kindness, that was for sure.

<Of course. Are you going to be seeing Markus again?> he asked, and I closed my eyes and sighed slightly at that.

<Yes. I think it’s only fair to give him another chance.>

I’m someone he cares about?, I wondered, my brain a bit of a haze as I unintentionally slipped off to sleep, my phone still in my hand. When I woke up later it was fully into night. My neck had a painful crimp in it from sleeping in a funny position, and I just felt more exhausted than before. I was actually grateful for once that Clara was spending the night with her father. I needed to get some food ready, so I dragged myself off the couch and made a quick bite before taking care of Troy and making sure he was settled in before calling it an early night.

I didn’t exactly wake up the next morning feeling refreshed, but I was at least not half-dead. Which was good, because I had two morning classes to teach, including my much-loathed aerobics class, before heading to rehearsals. I was already sweaty and gross when I made it across town with barely any time to spare. I took my spot on the floor for warm-ups, noticing Taron and Richard weren’t there yet, and then disappointed to find out they wouldn’t be in rehearsal that day after all. I felt like I was going through the motions a little bit as we started working on some choreography, my mind focused on other things, and I was just grateful my body knew how to take over.

At some point in the middle of rehearsal a thin woman with a pinched face came in and spoke to the choreographer briefly. He looked at me and called me over, my stomach dropping to my toes instantly. “What’s wrong?” I asked, trying to wipe the sweat off my face.

“A man came here asking for you. He said he was your ex,” the woman with the pinched face said. I felt my heart racing as I worried that something bad had happened to Clara.

“Make it quick,” the choreographer said, but not unkindly, and went to assist someone else. I stepped outside and followed the woman down a couple hallways and into an office, where Zayn and my daughter were sitting. Clara was busy playing a game on Zayn’s phone and seemed overall okay, though she shouldn’t have been out of school yet.

“What’s going on?” I asked quietly.

“I punched a boy because he was teasing my friend and saying not nice things to her and then he pushed me down when I told him to stop,” Clara said before Zayn even had a chance to speak.

“The school suspended her for the rest of the day,” Zayn added. “Mostly so the parents of the boy wouldn’t try and sue. Clara gave him a bloody nose.”

“Oh, Clara-Bean,” I said, shaking my head but finding it hard to be mad at my daughter.

“Well he’s a big bully and everyone knows it and the teachers won’t make him stop. So I did,” Clara said defiantly.

“Yes, well, using your fists probably wasn’t the best way to handle that, sweetheart. I commend you for defending your friend, but there are other ways to handle bullies,” I said carefully, wanting to make it clear violence wasn’t the answer, but not wanting to discourage her spirit either. “Next time you come to me and we’ll figure out a solution together, okay?” I said.

“Yes, mummy,” Clara said with a nod.

“Anyway, I need to get back to work. I was hoping you could take her for a bit,” Zayne cut in. “I just started this new job and I don’t have any sick time I can take. They were being generous in letting me get Clara from school as it is after you weren’t picking up your phone.”

I ran a hand over my face and tried to figure out what to do. I wasn’t sure I could be excused from rehearsal for this, but it would take my mum at least half an hour to get across town. I sighed and called my mum, making sure she could come pick Clara up, and my daughter would just have to sit in the studio and hopefully behave for the next half-hour or so.

As we were leaving the office, though, of course we just happened to run into Taron, and I suddenly felt a wave of anxiety pass through me. While I knew Taron needed to be told about my daughter and my past if we were to continue our relationship, this was not exactly how I had planned it.

“Hey! Shouldn’t you be in rehearsal?” he grinned cutely at me, brightening at seeing me, as he always did.

“Should be, yeah. Had a bit of a family emergency though,” I said, nodding at my daughter. “Taron, this is Clara,” I said, not even realizing I was holding my breath but he took it completely in stride and if he was surprised, he kept it off his face.

“Nice to meet you, Miss Clara,” he said, offering his hand, which she took and shook rather enthusiastically.

“I’m 7 and mum says I’m too smart for my own good,” she announced, making Taron just chuckle.

“Is that so? Well being smart is never a bad thing,” he said with a wink.

“I guess so,” she said with a shrug. “All the other kids make fun of me though.”

“Well some day you will be the boss and all the other kids will have to work for you, and then it won’t matter,” he replied, and the smile that spread on Clara’s face was the sweetest thing to see.

“Did you hear that mummy? I’m going to be the boss!” she said excitedly, and I laughed with her excitement.

“I do believe it’s true,” I smiled, before introducing Zayn as well. Taron was polite with him and Zayn excused himself quickly after that to get back to work. “My mum’s on her way to pick up Clara, but I just don’t know what to do about her until mum gets here,” I sighed as Taron walked along with us back toward the rehearsal room.

“I could give her a tour of the place, show her all the interesting bits, if that’d help you out. I’m literally doing nothing at the moment,” Taron offered.

“Oh, I can’t ask that of you,” I said, shaking my head.

“You didn’t ask, but I’m offering. It’ll be fun for me too, you know? I’ve got two sisters around Clara’s age,” he smiled, turning to Clara. “Would you like to see the recording room?” he grinned a bit mischievously, and Clara instantly lit up.

“Can I mummy? Please?” she asked. Damn if Taron hadn’t gotten around my objections far too easily. I wasn’t about to disappoint my daughter now.

“You two have fun then,” I said, a bit helplessly as Taron just winked at me.

“Oh, we will. Now get back to dancing,” Taron grinned, and I had to think I was crazy for leaving my daughter just randomly in his care, but what could a half-hour really hurt, right?

I returned to rehearsals and tried to keep my mind focused, but I couldn’t help wondering what Taron and my daughter were up to, hoping she was behaving for him. She was a good kid, but could be precocious when she wanted to be. I was so grateful when rehearsal was finally over. It’d been another hour and my mum had left me a text that she had arrived at the studios but then I got nothing else. I quickly called her as I gathered up my bag, but she didn’t answer. I also texted Taron and got no answer from him either. I wanted to assume that my mum had found Taron and Clara and already left, but I wasn’t absolutely sure, so I hurried along the labyrinth of hallways, looking into rooms and trying to find Taron if nothing else.

I heard the giggles long before I found them, followed by some tinkling of piano keys. I quietly snuck up on the room, peeking around the corner. Seated on the piano bench side-by-side were Taron and Clara, my mum looking on from the side. I pulled my phone out and couldn’t help quietly taking a couple of snaps, especially when Clara looked adoringly up at Taron, and he was smiling sweetly down at her. It stole my heart for a moment until Clara finally noticed me haunting the doorway.

“Mummy!” she squealed excitedly. “Taron is teaching me to play like Elton!” she said. “Can we play it for her?” she asked Taron excitedly, and he grinned and nodded.

“You remember the notes, right?” he said so gently as Clara placed her fingers eagerly on the keys. They played the first few bars of music from “Your Song” together, Taron playing the chords while Clara did a fairly decent job with the melody. They hadn’t gotten very far into the song, but she was still so excited about it that all of us were left beaming.

“That was so good, Clara-Bean!” I grinned, giving her a hug and mouthing ‘Thank you’ to Taron as I did so. I was also trying hard not to swoon over Taron himself being so sweet with my daughter.

“She’s going to be a real talent, dear,” my mum said proudly. We chatted a little bit longer but I didn’t want to take up much more of Taron’s time, though he promised me he truly enjoyed spending time with Clara.

“See you tomorrow? I’ll pick you up at 6?” Taron said as we were taking our leave.

“I’ll be ready!” I said with a grin.

As my mum and I and Clara left the studios, my mum turned to me and placed a hand on my arm. “You need to hold onto that one if you can, dear. Handsome AND good with kids? He’s perfect for you!”

“Mum!” I said with a laugh. “We’re just friends right now. I don’t know that he’d want a ready-made family like that anyway,” I said, shrugging the idea of it out of my brain immediately. It wouldn’t do me any good to get my hopes up, though I was grateful Taron hadn’t seemed remotely bothered that I already had a daughter.

I made arrangements to take Clara over to my mum’s for an overnight Saturday before my date; I think my mum might have been more excited for it than I was at the moment. I’m sure she just wanted me to find someone to be happy with after seeing me go through so much in the past with Zayn and a handful of other awful experiences with men. I hadn’t really told her about Markus either, and didn’t intend to unless it became an actual thing.

My daughter and I spent a quiet Friday evening pigging out on pizza and ice cream in front of the telly, watching our favorite movies together and even painting our nails “every color of the rainbow” as Clara requested. We both crashed hard when we could no longer keep our eyes open, slept in late, had a lazy breakfast of cereal and orange juice, packed an overnight bag for Clara and then played with Troy until it was time to take her over to my mum’s.

Once Clara was good and settled in with her grandmum, I made a couple of quick errands before getting myself home again with enough time to get ready. I wasn’t sure exactly what to expect and Taron hadn’t given me any hints as to where he was taking me. I decided a cute comfortable dress (navy blue and white lace, and the best part, with pockets!) and a cardigan would be dressed up enough for something more formal but still casual enough to pass if he chose that too. I piled my hair up in a bun, figuring there was no point in straying too far from the person he already knew I was, dashed on some makeup and otherwise tried to not get too nervous as I waited for Taron to arrive. Was it even possible to not be nervous? I thought to myself.

When the doorbell rang, right on time I might add, Troy immediately ran over to it, barking to announce we had a visitor. I quickly pulled the door open and found Taron standing there, looking dashing as ever in a striped shirt, black jacket and a black hat pulled over his hair. I couldn’t help but stare a little bit as I greeted him. “Hi. Hey. Um… Troy, sit!” I said, my face probably turning red as my dog tried to jump excitedly on Taron.

“Hey there buddy!” he said, patting Troy for a second before grinning at me. “You look beautiful as ever,” he said, leaning in and giving me a quick kiss on the cheek. He offered his arm and I took it after grabbing my clutch and locking the door behind me, telling Troy to be a good boy; the dog seemed only a little put out to be left behind. Taron opened the car door for me, which was super sweet, before getting in the driver’s seat.

“Hope you’re hungry,” he said with an amused grin on his face as he put the car in gear.

“I’ve saved up my appetite,” I giggled lightly. “So where are you taking me?” I joked.

“That’s a surprise,” he just chuckled, taking my hand gently as he drove. “I like these colors by the way,” he said, lifting my hand to his mouth and placing a sweet kiss on my fingers, making my heart want to skip a few beats.

“Oh! That! Yeah, I let Clara choose the colors and forgot to take the polish off,” I laughed, almost feeling shy in front of him.

“I think it’s amazing how sweet you are with your daughter,” he grinned over at me. “She’s an adorable kid and by the looks of it, has an amazing mum too.” There had been very few times I’d been rendered speechless in my life; that statement was one of them.

“I… Taron,” I said softly, staring down at my lap.

“You needn’t be shy about that around me,” he said gently. “I do feel how kids turn out is often a direct reflection of their parents. You should be proud that you have a bright, happy, spirited child.”

“She’s something else,” I laughed. “Let’s just say she was having a really good day yesterday. You haven’t seen the tantrums and fits,” I grinned.

“Oh I’m sure it goes with the territory,” he chuckled. “I really would love to experience all that parenthood offers some day,” he smiled, the corners of his eyes crinkling the way that I so loved.

When someone talks about having feels, well, I was having all of them at the moment. I was sure he could hear my heart beating right out of my chest. Hearing Taron talk about wanting kids some day was just nearly too much to bear, and I truly did believe he’d make an amazing dad. The conversation naturally moved on to other topics, but the feels definitely lingered.

We arrived at The Ledbury and I had to take a double-take over the restaurant he had chosen. “Taron, this is fancy as shit! I’m way under-dressed!” I said, and he had a laugh over that.

“Nonsense. People eat here in jeans and hipster jackets, you’re just fine. In fact, I imagine you’ll be the loveliest woman in the place, if I have anything to say about that,” he said. I felt my heart ache yet again over what he said and I was not going to survive this night if he kept looking at me the way he was at that moment. “Come on then,” he said after clearing his throat and having to tear his eyes away.

We made our way into the gorgeous building, with black curtains adorning the spacious windows that let plenty of light in. I took in the space, the round tables covered in white cloths and plush upholstered chairs. Taron gave his name for our reservation and we were seated and immediately offered wine, to which we both agreed.

I looked over the menu, trying not to gasp out loud at the price of the four-course dinner, but Taron seemed completely nonplussed about it. Right, he was living in a different world than me, where he could pay for a 300-euro meal without blinking but I had to use coupons for basics like noodles and bread, I reminded myself.

I was determined to enjoy every last bite of this meal, though, so I made my selections and just tried to tune into the conversation, enjoying the wine maybe a little more than I should. We laughed a lot though, and I found that I was truly enjoying his company, more than I could have thought possible. He was engaging, kind in every way, funny as hell and charming to bits, and I found myself really opening up to him. I told him about my upbringing, with my mum raising me by herself after my dad left when I was just a tiny tot, and why I was determined that Clara at least know who her father was even if he had disappointed me so much over the years. Taron listened in his patient way and never judged any of my past pain, and for that I was eternally grateful.

I got him talking about Rocketman while we ate, and seeing him so passionate about the project and so endlessly excited about his burgeoning friendship with Elton made me really happy.

And that food, my god, I probably could have just gone straight to heaven after that meal. I couldn’t even identify half of what I was putting in my mouth, but it was exquisite nonetheless. And of course every meal course was paired with an amazing wine, and of course I had to drink every last drop of that wine, so I was feeling really good - okay, maybe quite buzzed - by the time we ended our meal with the brown sugar tart and buffalo milk meringue. Taron, for his part, had been more careful about imbibing, probably because he would have to drive later.

It’d gotten quite late by the time Taron helped my giggling self back out to the car. The service had been superb, but not exactly fast, and we’d definitely whiled away the hours together. We made the drive back to my house, giggling over stupid shit and singing way too loudly to the radio with the windows down. It was the most alive I had felt in a long time, to be honest, as I let the wind from the open windows whip loose strands of my hair around my face.

Once we arrived back at my house, Taron insisted on walking me to my door, and in a small bit of courage I decided to invite him in. He looked hesitant for a moment, but then caved and followed me in. I showed him about the space, glad it didn’t look like too much of a hot mess, though I had to sweep several of Clara’s toys off the couch so we could sit. Troy demanded some attention but after we doted on him a bit he finally wandered off to his bed and laid down.

“It’s been an amazing evening, so thank you,” I grinned at him, and realized I truly meant it. I couldn’t really believe how fun it had been, really getting to just spend time outside of work and dance together. We had some things in common, certainly, and he didn’t feel so far away from me, sitting on my couch and looking at me like I was the only girl in the world at the moment.

It made my breath catch in my chest slightly as he reached over and brushed the wild strands of hair back sweetly. “I have enjoyed myself thoroughly in your company. I feel that I should thank you also,” he smiled, his eyes tracing the lines of my lips. We stared at each other for that small space of time and then we were leaning into each other, our lips crashing against each other’s in our sweet but hungry kisses. I could still taste the wine on his lips, and I felt my body light on fire as he naturally pulled me into him.

I slid my leg over his lap so I was straddling him, aware of how close I now was, my chest pressed tightly to his as all the wine I’d drank allowed my instincts and hormones to take over my brain. I deepened the kisses, wanting more despite my better judgments, and Taron didn’t hold back either as he pulled my cardigan off, his fingers traveling over my bare arms, and then running over my waist and my stomach, then down to my thighs, where the hem of my dress had ridden up. I’m pretty sure I moaned into his mouth at that point, and I could feel him growing hard between us.

Something wicked must have taken over me, because I ground my hips against him and was rewarded with the most delicious groan as his eyes fluttered slightly. We kissed a few more times but then he pulled away, leaving me panting, and leaned his forehead against mine.

“I can’t do this,” he whispered.

“What?” I asked, crashing back down to earth with a hard mental thud. “Why not? You clearly want this.”

“But you’re clearly drunk and I can’t take that decision away from you. I’d hate myself forever for that. I need to know it’s you that wants me and not just the wine,” he said, his eyes pleading with me to understand.

I groaned slightly and slid off his lap then, needing to remove myself from the temptation. I knew he had a point, I knew it in the little bit of logical brain I still had left, but that didn’t mean the rejection still didn’t sting. “Of course,” I said, frowning slightly, my lips still tingling and my body still throbbing uncomfortably.

“Please don’t hate me,” he said, his brow wrinkling in concern and sadness.

“God, I don’t hate you Taron,” I rolled my eyes. “No one could hate you. You’re like a bucket of puppies or whatever,” I said, my head beginning to join the throbbing party. I grabbed a pillow and laid my head down on it and sighed.

“You should get some sleep. You might feel better in the morning about things,” he said softly, pulling a blanket off the back of the couch where it was draped and laying it over me gently. I didn’t have the energy to protest this, really, so I closed my eyes and nodded.

“Yes dear,” I yawned, still clearly not in full control of myself and not even realizing that word had slipped out of my mouth. Taron smiled softly and leaned over, kissing me on the forehead.

“I’ll call you in the morning, maybe bring over breakfast, yeah?” he said as I nodded my head, half-asleep already. “This is most certainly to be continued, love” he whispered in my ear, his voice a deep timbre, before leaving me to fall headfirst into my slumber. To be continued? I wondered at that as Taron saw himself out the door. What could he possibly mean?

How will Taron and Juliette’s relationship unfold? And will the drama between Juliette and Markus continue? Keep reading to find out in Chapter 5 HERE!

#taron imagine #taron egerton #taron x reader #rocketman fanfic #rocketman imagine #taron fluff #taron egerton fanfiction

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eleanor-writes-stuff · 5 years

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keep calm and let HR handle it [I/VI]

Rey managed to go a full year without ever directly interacting with her new CEO, but now it seems like he’s dropping by her office every single week.

(Because what else is a love-struck fool to do when he falls for his head of HR other than find reasons to visit her department?)

OR: five times Ben gets summoned down to HR, and one time Rey gets called into the CEO’s office, based on this prompt from @optimisticsprinkles: "Rey as the director of HR at [office] and Kylo/Ben starts finding reasons to be sent down to HR".

Hello, friends! I’m officially back from hiatus with a one-shot that somehow stretched into a six-part fic. Here’s hoping I’m not too rusty! Anyway, please enjoy the office shenanigans of CEO Ben and head of HR Rey as they go from colleagues to friends to lovers.

Chapter 2 Also available on AO3. And hey, maybe check out my Twitter and Ko-fi?

To: [email protected] From: [email protected] Subject: Office Conduct

Dear Mr. Solo,

This department has been contacted by several concerned individuals regarding your conduct this afternoon. Attached please find my schedule for the next two weeks; I would appreciate it if you could drop by my office for a meeting between us at your earliest convenience.

Warm regards, Rey Niima, Head of Human Resources, The Organa Foundation.

To: [email protected] From: [email protected] Subject: Re: Office Conduct

Dear Ms. Niima,

As I’m sure you’re aware, I’m quite busy handling the fall-out of today’s events. My only availability this month would be at 5PM this Friday. Of course, I don’t expect you to stay after hours for a meeting. Perhaps we should reschedule for next month?

Best regards, Ben Solo, Chief Executive Officer, The Organa Foundation.

To: [email protected] From: [email protected] Subject: Re: Office Conduct

Dear Mr. Solo,

I look forward to seeing you on Friday, in that case.

Warm regards, Rey Niima, Head of Human Resources, The Organa Foundation.

It’s a little… surreal, Rey thinks, that she’s managed to avoid her new CEO for a whole year only to have their first in-person encounter revolve around her telling her boss off for throwing a temper tantrum.

She’s still a little hung up on the boss part, but Rose and Kaydel had pretty much forced her to send that email on Wednesday after news of the morning’s events started spreading like wildfire.

“This is exactly what HR is for!” Kaydel had insisted.

“If anyone else thrashed their office and made their assistant piss their pants in fear, you’d definitely call them in,” Rose had pointed out.

The keyword being anyone else, Rey had attempted to argue. The chain of command is clear, after all, in that the CEO sits at the very top of it, while the head of HR falls somewhere around the middle at best. But her team had refused to take no for an answer, and so here she is, two days later, anxiously waiting for her boss to arrive so that she can… gently scold him for his inappropriate behavior? Drop hints about anger management? Make pointed comments about the cost of replacing office supplies and furniture?

Rey has had two whole days to prepare for this meeting, and she still feels like she’s walking into it completely blind. She’s spent every free moment since Solo’s reply quizzing her friends and coworkers about him, only to somehow end up with even more questions about her boss than she had to begin with.

Paige thinks that Ben Solo is intimidating, but also shy. Finn says he’s intense and result-driven, but he tries to keep things light in the office. Poe swears he’s seen some of the scariest people in the business leave Solo’s office in tears, but Wednesday’s outburst was the first time anyone in the building had actually witnessed his legendary anger issues.

An okay boss, the consensus seems to be. Nowhere near as loved and respected as his predecessor and mother, but also nowhere near as bad as all of them had feared when it was announced that the COO of their sworn enemy was jumping ship to return to the family business.

It’s this reassurance that Rey clings to when the dreaded knock on her door comes at exactly 5PM. At least he’s punctual, even for a meeting he obviously tried his best to evade. Joke’s on him, though, because now they’re both wasting their Friday evening when they could have had this meeting at a perfectly normal working hour instead.

“Come in,” Rey calls out, and it instantly occurs to her how strange it is that she’s giving the CEO permission to enter her office. How in the world is she supposed to build up to the telling him off part?

Said CEO strides into her office with his eyes firmly fixed upon his phone and a furrow between his brows. “I apologize, Ms. Niima, but I have a previous engagement scheduled for forty-five minutes from now so we’re going to have to make this–”

He stops short as soon as he looks up from his phone and at her, and usually Rey would break the ice by asking if she has something on her face or in her teeth but… she’s equally at a loss for words, it seems.

Because here’s the thing: Rey thought she knew what Ben Solo looks like. After all, she’d seen him from a distance the day of Leia’s retirement party, when he was first announced as his mother’s successor, and sometimes their paths cross and she spies him down the hallway or across a room. But distance… distance does not do Ben Solo justice.

He’s tall, but she’d figured as much just from seeing him tower over literally everyone else in the office. Broad too, but she vaguely recalls Poe once insisting to a skeptical Finn that Ben Solo is shredded, so that’s no surprise.

But up close like this, what strikes Rey the most is his eyes. She’d forgotten – or maybe never even realized – that he has Leia’s eyes. It’s disconcerting to see that familiar glint of quiet determination lost in a sea of something she’s unable to name, something she only recognizes because like calls to like.

Rey shakes that thought off and snaps herself out of it, just in time to stand up and take Solo’s hand as he reaches for hers.

“It’s nice to finally meet you, Ms. Niima,” he says, and Rey has to force herself to concentrate on his words rather than the smile that frames them. “I’ve heard so much about you, especially from my mother.”

She blurts out the first thing that comes to mind, still holding his hand. “It’s Rey. Um, I mean – please, call me Rey. No one calls me by my last name.” It’s not even hers, not really, but this is a HR meeting with her boss, not a heart-to-heart with her best friend.

“Same here,” he says with a shrug, and somehow they let go of each other to settle into their seats at the same moment. “Just Ben will do.”

Rey knows for a fact that a lot of people call him by his last name – nearly everyone, in fact, with the exception of Poe and his preferred boss man – but that’s not what they’re here to talk about, and she’s not going to let herself get derailed – not by tiny details like what he prefers to go by or the way the corners of his eyes crinkle when he smiles at her or how cramped he makes her rather spacious office feel.

She turns her attention to the clock hanging above her door instead – a kitschy little thing Rose brought back as a souvenir from a trip once – and is rudely reminded of the circumstances surrounding their meeting. It is 5PM on a Friday evening, and she should be at the company’s weekly happy hour over at Maz’s instead of dealing with her misbehaving boss. It’s a much-needed reminder, one Rey keeps in mind as she dives straight into it.

“Okay, Ben. Since you’re in a hurry, let’s get right to it. Could you talk me through the events of Wednesday morning?” She’s always been a no-nonsense, straight to the point kind of person, but Rey feels a brief flash of regret for her bluntness when the smile on Ben’s face suddenly disappears, only to be replaced by a perfect mask of… nothing.

“Right. Wednesday.” He clears his throat and drops his eyes down to his hands, laced together on the other end of her desk, and Rey watches in mild concern as this huge man seems to curl in on himself. “Look, it was… it was not my best moment, that’s for sure.”

He looks up then, carefully meeting her eyes, and Rey encourages him to go on with a wordless nod and the listening face she’s spent all her time in HR perfecting.

It works like a charm, every time. “I’ve been trying so hard,” Ben says quietly, still facing her even as his eyes occasionally dart away, “ever since I got here, and it’s been a whole year so I thought maybe things really had changed, maybe I’d changed, but then… then Wednesday happened, and fu- freaking Armitage Hux just had to swoop in and ruin everything for us, and I just…” He brings one hand up to run his fingers through his hair in an agitated manner, while the other clenches into a fist. This time, when his eyes move over her shoulder to stare out her window, they stay there.

“Of course Hux was the one to ruin everything. It’s always– maybe he brings out the worst in me. Maybe it’s just FO as a whole. Or maybe I’m just an asshole making excuses–”

His speech is getting faster, his breathing harder, and Rey looks down to find the fingers curled into a fist pressing so hard into his palm it looks like they might cut crescents into his skin.

It’s instinct, the way she reaches out for him without a moment’s thought or hesitation, the way she places her hand on top of his to soothe and comfort.

“Ben,” she says quietly, firmly.

And his eyes immediately snap back to hers.

“Sorry,” he says, the tension seeping out of his shoulders and eyes and jaw, leaving him looking rather like a deflated balloon. “Sorry, I just… I’m guessing you’ve heard about my experience with First Order?”

Who hasn’t heard the tale of how Ben Solo nearly gave his mother a heart attack when he chose to work with her mortal enemy right out of college? Who hasn’t heard all the whispered horror stories about his notoriously short fuse and his cold, unfeeling way of doing business and his complete lack of passion and principles?

Except… that’s in the past, all of it. And in the entire year that Ben Solo has served as CEO of the Organa Foundation, this is the very first incident she’s heard of. So Rey decides to go easy on him, especially in light of what he just said – or ranted – about trying to change.

“Bits and pieces,” she claims, a white lie.

Ben pulls his hand away from hers with a nod. “Enough to know what kind of person I was,” he assumes. “It’s probably true, everything you’ve heard. Especially the worst parts. But I meant what I said, about trying. That’s really not who I am anymore.”

He hangs his head in shame.

“Or at the very least, it’s not who I want to be anymore.”

Rey almost wishes his hand were still in hers, just so she could give him a little supportive squeeze. “One slip-up doesn’t undo a whole year of hard work, Ben,” she says instead, as gently as she can. “And given that this is the first time you and I have had to sit down, I’d say you’ve been doing pretty well this past year.”

It occurs to her, as she waits for him to absorb her encouragement and look up again, that this is not at all how she’d expected this meeting to go. First of all, she’s supposed to be scolding him, not comforting him. And secondly… this is her boss, not some overworked newbie stressing out about their first project. Absolutely no one is going to believe she ended up spending her meeting with the notorious Ben Solo as some kind of motivational coach instead.

But then he looks up at her with a smile – a small, soft thing – and suddenly… suddenly Rey’s okay with all of it.

“Thank you. That… that means a lot. And I’m sorry, for all of this… babbling. I don’t know what came over me, I don’t usually open up to people like this–“

“It’s a HR thing,” Rey quickly assures him, even though she can count the number of people who’ve actually broken down and opened up to her during a meeting on one hand. She just… she doesn’t want him to be uncomfortable.

Except she might’ve just made things uncomfortable with that reminder of the roles they’re supposed to play, the professional boundaries that should be in place.

Ben stills for a moment, and then sits up straighter, slides his hands off her desk and out of view. “Right. It’s just part of your job, isn’t it? Anyway, I should get going, there’s a conference call I need to attend to and I’m sure you have plans, what with it being Friday evening and all that–”

Rey watches in a sort of stunned silence as he abruptly stands up and cuts their meeting short, jarred by the sudden switch into exactly the kind of CEO she’d expected him to be. It’s only when he makes to turn his back to her that she snaps out of it.

“Wait, we still have to talk about what you did–“

“It was a mistake,” Ben says, without turning to look at her. “A slip-up, like you said. And it won’t happen again, I promise.” With that, he sweeps out of her office just as suddenly as he’d entered it.

And Rey is left staring at her door, trying to process the weirdest meeting of her life.

. . .

One down, four +1 left to go!

And hey: hello again, friends! It's been a while - more than four months, if anyone's keeping track. My hiatus was long, unexpected, and damaging, because wow is it hard to get back into writing proper fics after four months of nothing but the occasional Twitter fic. I've tried my best to polish this, so hopefully it's not as clunky as I fear it is. And hopefully things will get smoother with each subsequent update, as I remember how this writing thing works.

Until then, thank you so much for reading, I hope you liked it, and as always, comments, likes, and reblogs are greatly appreciated.

#reylo #rey x ben solo #rey/ben solo #rey/kylo ren #kylo ren/rey #star wars #rey #ben solo #kylo ren #my fics #fic: HR

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mattpitman · 4 years

Text

Flummox.

There is a lot of confusion out in the world at the moment. We seem to be heading back to school in two weeks and I am worried that things will go back to how they were and much of the progress we have made in the past 2 months may be lost. I am grateful again, to live in this state (Victoria) and I feel the cautious approach was an educated way forward. As a science teacher I appreciate administering more tests, collecting more data, and conducting further analysis. But it seems that educated way of managing a serious pandemic might be lost in the Twitter feeds and Facebook posts of some others.

Either way, face to face or remote, continuous learning is so important.

Education is so important.

This weekend as I looked at the crowd forming outside Parliament House I thought: did our system let these people down? Who organised this random group? Are they just antagonists? A group of conspiracy theorists, anti-vaxxers and full-time Facebook posters?

Why haven’t they realised that is not Bill Gates’ house?

Education is so important.

Then there has been the absolute joke that stands for professional journalism. One Victorian newspaper in particular (no names, but I think you probably know), has had an absolute awful run of late; prediction disguised as fact and opinion disguised as policy. Those articles and those “journalists” are as dangerous as the virus. Dragging us further and further apart and away from the truth while masquerading as honest.

Why would you write and publish such rubbish?

Education is so important.

I am a bit of a “word nerd”. I love trying to bring back words that I subjectively believe do not get the frequency they deserve. The eye-rolls from my VCE students usually confirm that I am on to a winner. The word this week is: Flummox.

Flummox is to “confuse someone so much that they do not know what to do”.

Those protests, in my opinion, demonstrated a lack of critical thinking and autonomous thought. Adults who followed rather than determining their own path and who sort truth from their news feed. Future citizens need to be more equipped to deal with the onslaught of misinformation that has increasingly become the norm. I want citizens who ask before acting and question when flummoxed.

Looking at the confusion that is being created and the manner in which select “adults” are coping with it all, I can’t imagine what a young person is thinking as they try to digest everything that is thrown at them each day. Those protests and those articles, if nothing else, made me much more determined to ensure my students are constantly being challenged to question every time they join my classes online, face to face or otherwise.

I recently stumbled across (while randomly reading), Kent Beck’s article “The Product Development Triathlon” on Medium. Kent has a lot of ideas floating around the internet but the concept in this article is his 3x model for product development: explore, expand and extract.

“Explore: Successful exploration is unpredictable, so the highest expected value strategy is to reduce the cost of experimentation and put a little investment into many, uncorrelated experiments. If you’re lucky, one of these experiments turns out to be unexpectedly successful, which leads to:

Expand: Unanticipated bottlenecks appear. All you have time for is to eliminate the next bottleneck just before it derails you. Once growth becomes routine, it’s time to:

Extract: now the shape of the problem and solution spaces are clear. One euro in equals three euros out. Playbooks emerge: here’s how you roll out the service in a new city.”

Doesn’t this look a little like the transition to remote learning?

As a sector we dabbled in online learning, flipping a classroom here, trying an app or two there, then...

Drastic changes occur rapidly as our experimentation takes off and becomes the predominant method of delivery and communication. Those who had experimented more were perhaps better off than those who didn’t so much. Throughout his period we’ve come to bottleneck after bottleneck and managed to keep our classes running and our heads above water. In many cases we have also improved and increased the quality of our pedagogy and developed robust, contemporary learning programs. We are now in...

Extract. The “shape of the problem” is clear. We must maintain the ground we have covered as we return to school.

It might actually be more accurate to call this period that is approaching “explore”. I feel more than ever we are ready to take bigger risks and challenge what a lesson looks like. Our mindsets have shifted from purely “does this address the curriculum?” to “does this benefit the learner?” We can’t risk returning to a predictable way of operating. We need to explore for our students sake.

Finally.

I recently observed a huge increase in a student’s result on a formative assessment task. At first I was sceptical, I did some quick Google checks to ensure there weren’t obvious signs of plagiarism, but the student had produced those responses and completed that task by themselves. A parent teacher phone call confirmed that the student had sat quietly and completed the task without any additional assistance. I asked a student what had changed and they replied:

“I don’t have to worry about other students any more. I can ask you questions whenever I want. Asking questions really helped. I wasn’t worried about not knowing the answer because we talked about it already and I knew what I needed to do this time”.

Remote learning has removed the “noise” for this student and allowed them to perform at a much higher level.

I can’t and won’t say that remote learning works for everyone, but removing some of the “noise” created an environment of clarity, allowing this student to ask questions and avoid confusion. In the classroom, this particular student was so confused (flummoxed?) they likely didn’t know where to start.

Is some of that confusion my fault, of course! I am on my own learning journey, consistently trying to be better. The key is reflection. This change up has definitely provided me plenty of opportunities to take stock and re-evaluate. To stop and realise. This reflection is essential as we head back towards that classroom again. The next two weeks will be dedicated to designing my own “return to school program” in order to cater for all of my students: those who have embraced online and those who are desperate to return.

This pandemic is a horrible thing, but for this student (and myself) it provided the environment they needed to succeed. I am hoping there are plenty more student success stories to come as we continue to provide continuous learning programs all over the country. As we continue to explore, expand and extract we are all redefining what teaching is and what education looks like in 2020 and beyond.

Flummox is to “confuse someone so much that they do not know what to do”.

To flourish is to “grow or develop successfully”.

Whether it’s online or offline, let’s get all students from flummox to flourish.

Here’s a few things that have inspired me this past week as an educator and a leader:

Haileybury Teachers of the Future: Science

Haileybury are a school community that explored online learning before all of this happened and are kind enough to share their expertise in these webinars. The Science team delivered a very insightful program this week and the Junior School team are lined up for Thursday 21st May @ 4pm. Register here: https://lnkd.in/gr6cFaK

Artificial Intelligence(AI) in K-12

(https://emma-assets.s3.amazonaws.com/paqab/71de919fd20c5e29fc83197664a59888/CoSN_AI_Report_2020_R8_4.24.pdf)

Consortium for School Networking (CoSN) released this fascinating report exploring the augmentation of learning with A.I. rather than replacing the teacher. Well worth a look!

HGSE: Education now

(https://www.gse.harvard.edu/education-now)

Harvard University Graduate School of Education have been offering some great webinars early (for Australia) on Thursday mornings covering a variety of topics. Upcoming this week is “Teaching to Navigate Challenge and Uncertainty," a conversation with Sarah Dryden-Peterson (Ed.D.’09) about preparing young people — and ourselves — to adapt to change, confront inequities, and strengthen our communities in a time of turmoil. All of the previous offerings are available on the website. I highly recommend last weeks episode which featured current students on the panel.

Game Changers Podcast

(https://soundcloud.com/user-127023293/season-1-epilogue)

Adriano and Phil wrap up the first series of the podcast and set the stage for the second series which releases this week.

Image: dictionary.com (https://www.dictionary.com/e/s/funny-words/#flummox)

#education #theexistingreality #flummox #reflection #randomthoughts #random

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catflowerqueen · 4 years

Text

This is for you, @citrus-chickadee

Party Crashers Part 1

“My Dear, are you all right?”

The Grass-type blinked, the sight of Celebi waving a hand in front of his face dispelling his thoughts. “Hm? I’m sorry… did you say something, Celebi?

Celebi sighed in exasperation, crossing her arms and plopping down next to him. “I asked if you were all right,” she repeated. “You seem more distracted than usual… even considering what day it is.”

Grovyle winced at the reminder, briefly flicking his eyes in Dialga’s direction. Ever since the dark future had changed, he and Celebi were welcome guests in Dialga’s home. The Temporal Pokemon had even become a part-time employer of sorts, strange as that was given their history together. But today they weren’t there to receive any jobs; today was—or would have been, if she hadn’t disappeared—Laura’s Birthday, and it had become a tradition for Grovyle and Celebi to visit Dialga on the Temporal Tower Pinnacle to try and cheer him up. Despite everything that had ended up happening, Dialga still blamed himself for Laura’s ultimate fate.

Usually one or two members of the Sableye Gang came as well, but today they were all busy with other tasks. Dos, Trois and Seis had legitimate excuses, at least. Dos always honored the day by placing a new portrait in the Memorial Garden near Laura’s grave, and he had gotten a late start on painting this year’s addition due to a recent illness. Trois and Seis couldn’t make it because they were busy fixing their house since the roof had collapsed after a Castform decided their front yard would be the perfect place to teach his kids about weather changing moves—despite the fact that New PIT Base had training grounds conveniently located near the guest housing—and one of them became a bit too enthusiastic about the move Hail. But the other three—along with Dusknoir—weren’t there because they were trying to avoid the sadness.

Dusknoir was always conveniently “busy” whenever this date came around, and this year he had decided that it was absolutely vital that he go on a week-long scouting mission to—of all places—the Oran Forest. Cinq, Un, and Cuatro insisted they go with him to “protect him from danger.” Again, this was the Oran Forest they were talking about. If those guys weren’t doing this as an avoidance tactic, then Grovyle would eat nothing but Grimy Food for a week. In any case, it would probably be a few more days before they returned.

“Sorry, Celebi. I was just… thinking,” Grovyle finally replied.

Celebi giggled. “I can see that, my dear… What were you thinking about?”

Grovyle hesitated, looking towards Dialga’s depressed form again and weighing whether it was really worth it to upset him even more over what was probably a stupid question. In the end he decided that his desperate need to know the answer��even if the chances that it would be favorable were likely very slim—far outweighed the probability of pain. So he went ahead and asked, “I was just wondering… Dialga, are you really sure that Laura isn’t ali-with us, anymore? Somewhere out there?”

Dialga, who had perked up slightly at being addressed, winced and slumped even lower to the floor. He didn’t give a verbal response, but it was pretty clear from his body language that the answer was “yes.”

Celebi frowned, feeling troubled. “My dear… you haven’t thought about that possibility in years. What makes you think of it now?”

Grovyle shrugged, “When I went to Laura’s grave this morning to pay my respects, I was interrupted by this really weird visitor.”

“Oh? Weird in what way?”

Grovyle frowned, concentrating on bringing the memories back to the forefront of his mind before explaining, “Well, at first he didn’t realize where we were and tried to pick a fight with me over the flowers I’d picked for her,” he paused here to roll his eyes in remembered annoyance, “but then once he realized that we were at a grave… and especially once he realized whose grave it was… he was completely devastated. Like we all were, at first, you know? As if… as if he hadn’t known she was gone and it was a fresh wound.”

“That is strange,” Celebi agreed. “I mean… we’ve spread that story around enough that he should have heard it from somewhere…”

Grovyle nodded before furrowing his brow, realizing something. “Actually… he might not have.”

When Celebi—and Dialga, if only briefly—looked over in surprise, Grovyle explained, “I didn’t even think about it at the time, but… he was a celebi. He might not have heard it if he came from far enough in the past,” Grovyle paused and frowned as he suddenly realized something. “Which… actually makes how he behaved after I told him the story even stranger.”

“HOW DID HE BEHAVE?” Dialga asked, his attention riveted for some reason upon hearing the visitor’s species.

“He seemed…relieved. As if… well, as if he was worried that she had actually died from something like… I don’t know… age or illness, I guess. Something common.”

Celebi shot up into the air. “Wh-what?” she spluttered. “B-but that doesn’t make sense! I mean… okay, if he was from far enough in the past, then, yes you’re right, obviously death by ‘disappearing as a result of changing the future’ wouldn’t have crossed his mind… but it was still a grave. So why would he feel—” she came to a screeching halt as she realized something else. “…Actually, if he was from that far in the past… how would he even know who Laura was to get upset that she’s no longer with us?”

“That’s what I was thinking,” Grovyle admitted. He frowned thoughtfully for a moment before theorizing, “I suppose he may have been thinking of a different Laura, but…”

“WHAT DID HE LOOK LIKE?!” Dialga suddenly demanded, derailing Grovyle’s train of thought.

When Grovyle didn’t answer—being too startled by the wild look in Dialga’s eyes and how forceful the question had been—Dialga calmed his tone slightly and tried again. “LET ME CLARIFY… DID HE HAVE ANY SORT OF DISTINGUISHING FEATURES, OR DID HE JUST LOOK LIKE AN AVERAGE CELEBI?”

“…He was wearing a few odd accessories, but otherwise he looked normal,” Grovyle finally answered. He felt slightly confused when it caused Dialga to seem crestfallen, but before he could think of something to cheer him up he remembered another detail and added, “Well, unless his odd eye color would classify him as a different type of shiny celebi than Celebi here.”

“His eye color?” Celebi asked, cocking her head in amusement at the possibility that Grovyle had now been acquainted with two shiny pokémon of her species.

“Yes. His eyes were golden.”

Dialga pulled in sharp gasp before sitting straight up. “GOLDEN?” he repeated frantically, his eyes widening when Grovyle nodded in assent. “BUT THAT WOULD MEAN…” he trailed off, his gaze moving towards the Time Gear pedestal. He frowned and began to “mutter” in thought. “BUT IF IT REALLY WAS HIM, THEN WHY WOULD HEARING ABOUT HER MANNER OF DEATH MAKE HIM RELIEVED? UNLESS…”

He trailed off again and let his eyes become distant. Grovyle and Celebi glanced at each other, feeling slightly worried and wondering if they should go to the Oran Forest and fetch Dusknoir to help them decipher his master’s odd mood… or to help them subdue the Temporal pokémon if it turned out he was going crazy again. But then they jolted when Dialga finally came back to the present, threw back his head… and laughed. They then seriously considered going to get Dusknoir, since the laugh sounded far too joyous given the date.

“GROVYLE… CELEBI…” Dialga suddenly said, turning back towards them and causing them to jump. “I HAVE A JOB FOR YOU.”

Grovyle and Celebi blinked in confusion before their eyes widened in comprehension. “A… job? As in… right now?” Grovle asked, stunned.

“Is… is something wrong?” Celebi wondered aloud, sounding very concerned.

“NO, NO… NOTHING IS WRONG. ABSOLUTELY NOTHING…” Dialga paused to smirk. “BUT IT IS STILL VERY IMPORTANT THAT YOU DO THIS.”

“…Okay…” Celebi said, still sounding unsure. “What do you need us to do?”

Dialga nodded happily and jerked his head, opening a dimensional hole to his right.

“I NEED YOU TO TAKE THIS DIMENSIONAL HOLE BACK TO THE PAST AND OBSERVE WHAT LIFE WAS LIKE IN THAT TIME PERIOD.”

Celebi cocked her head and placed a hand near the edge of the hole. She closed her eyes in concentration, focusing on finding out the date it would lead them to. When she had it, her eyes snapped open in shock.

“But this is… today’s date about four years after Team Rainbow took the Time Gears to Temporal Tower!”

Grovyle’s jaw dropped. “Wha…?” he turned to Dialga. “Why would you want us to go to then?” he demanded.

Dialga smirked again and gave a shrug. “I TOLD YOU: I WANT YOU TO OBSERVE WHAT LIFE WAS LIKE. FOUR YEARS SHOULD BE ENOUGH TIME FOR THINGS TO HAVE SETTLED DOWN SINCE THE CRISIS AT TEMPORAL TOWER, BUT THAT DOES NOT NECESSARILY MEAN THAT YOU WON’T FIND ANYTHING… INTERESTING, TO REPORT.”

Grovyle frowned. He didn’t like how suspicious Dialga was acting…

“BESIDES… LAURA IS NOT THE ONLY FRIEND YOU LEFT BEHIND WHEN YOU DRAGGED MY FAITHFUL SERVANT DUSKNOIR BACK TO THAT DARK FUTURE, CORRECT?”

Grovyle’s eyes widened. “Paula…” he whispered before looking away, slightly shame-faced. “That’s right… she’s probably missing Laura too…”

Celebi slapped her forehead. “I can’t believe I never thought of travelling back to see her before! She probably thinks we’re dead as well!”

“EXACTLY,” Dialga said, giving another grin. “WHICH IS ALL THE MORE REASON TO GO BACK FOR A QUICK VISIT.”

Grovyle glanced back at him once more with a frown before sighing and rubbing his temples. “…Okay, I give in.” He straightened up, transitioning into serious mode. “Do you want us to go now, or do we have time to pack first?”

“Oh, my dear, you’re so paranoid!” Celebi chided, rolling her eyes. “Why would we need to pack if we’re merely going to observe?”

“It’s always good to be prepared,” Grovyle cautioned. “Besides, I don’t know if you’ve forgotten, but the last time I went to the past I was labelled a wanted criminal.”

“I’m sure they would have repealed that by now.”

“You don’t know that… and there’s also the fact that—h-hey! Wait a minute!”

Celebi, tired of Grovyle’s attempts at making excuses, grabbed his arm and dragged him towards the Dimensional Hole. “Don’t worry so much! I’m sure everything will go splendidly!” she assured before—and without any warning—shoving him in. She waited until his surprised yelps and screaming faded away before turning back towards Dialga with a wide smile.

“We’ll give you a full report when we get back!” she told him before she remembered something. Her smile became mischievous when she added, “Oh! Make sure that you thwack Dusknoir and the sableye on the back of the head for being such sillies again this year if they return before us, okay?”

Dialga chuckled. “I WILL BE SURE TO DO THAT. HAVE A GOOD TIME.”

Celebi gave a salute before flying into the dimensional hole. Dialga watched as it flickered and closed, and then he settled down near the pedestal to allow the new memories of the past that had just become available to him to catch up and merge with the ones already in his head. He gave a soft, happy sigh as the image came to mind of a treecko with brilliant, rainbow-colored eyes smiling at him in greeting when he descended to the Hidden Land to see how she was coming along with repainting the murals…

“I HOPE LAURA WILL LIKE HER SWEET SIXTEEN PRESENT…”

--------

Grovyle groaned as he sat up, feeling sand shift beneath his claws (and internally wondering if that meant he’d ended up travelling back to a beach yet again), and shook his head to dispel the fog caused by the time travel. He looked around, locating Celebi—who, annoyingly, didn’t seem to have suffered any ill effects from the time travel like he had—and shooting her a weak glare. But she was too busy admiring the waves (well, that answered that question…) with wide, excited eyes to notice, so he quickly gave it up and settled for a soft sound of annoyance.

This caught Celebi’s attention and she turned to him with a big smile on her face. “My Dear Grovyle! You’re finally awake!” she exclaimed with glee before flying up and twirling in the air. “Isn’t this beach just amazing?” she gushed.

Grovyle chuckled minutely at her antics. “Yes, it is quite nice… but you’ve seen beaches like this before, remember?” he reminded her gently.

“Well, yes… but those were future beaches. This is a past beach! Just think: Laura and Paula may have played on one just like this when they took breaks from their exploration work!”

Grovyle tilted his head thoughtfully and looked more closely at his surroundings. “Actually… I think this is the beach they played on,” he said. “It looks like the one near Treasure Town, at any rate. What’s more…” he trailed off, looking up and squinting into the distance “…that outcrop of rock over there looks distinctly like a sharpedo, does it not? So that must be Sharpedo Bluff, where Laura, Paula, and I stayed for a while before retrieving the Time Gear from Treeshroud Forest.”

“Oh?” Celebi asked, flying a bit higher to get a closer look. “You’re right! It does look like a sharpedo! So that means that the Wigglytuff Guild must be nearby! That’s where Paula will be… right?”

“Most likely,” Grovyle agreed. But then he frowned slightly as a few other possible scenarios flitted through his head. “It’s been a few years, though, so she may have moved on by now.”

“But they’d probably know where she went if that was the case, yes?” Celebi asked, coming back down to hover at a more reasonable level. “Besides… the other members of the guild are your friends too, right?

Grovyle’s frown deepened and he crossed his arms, shifting over to look at the waves. “…I wouldn’t really call us ‘friends,’” he told her truthfully. “The only other member of the guild I really had the opportunity to talk with was Wigglytuff.”

Celebi pouted briefly before grinning again and tugging his arm. “Well now’s your chance!” she insisted.

Grovyle shook his head in amusement as he allowed her to lead him. “Now who’s the impatient one?” he teased. Celebi blushed and declined to answer.

Grovyle shook his head again and barked out a short laugh before something along the path caught his eye. “Hold on a moment, Celebi,” he requested, stopping in place. “This wasn’t here before.”

Celebi obligingly dropped his arm, turning back to look at what he’d seen. It appeared to be a building. It was a bit on the small side, but that just gave it an air of coziness. There was a colorful sign in front that read: “Rainbow’s Palette.” Celebi tried to look in the windows, but each one was blocked by blue-green curtains.

“Is it a shop?” Celebi wondered.

“It appears so,” Grovyle mused. “There’s a clay ‘SORRY, WE’RE CLOSED’ sign on the door…”

“Oh, I didn’t notice that,” Celebi said, floating closer to investigate. When she had affirmed the shop’s “closed” status, she headed back to Grovyle’s side… or at least, she was about to before she noticed another small structure slightly behind the shop. She tested the door, but it was locked. “Oh well,” she mentally shrugged. “We can always come back later.”

She zoomed back towards Grovyle and tugged on his arm again. “Come, my dear! The guild awaits!”

----------

Grovyle stared at the grate at his feet and swallowed nervously. He didn’t think the guild members would be hostile towards him or Celebi, but there was always the chance that they blamed him for Laura’s disappearance…

“Celebi… I think it would be best if you stayed behind me.”

Celebi rolled her eyes, but did as he said. Even though he was too stubborn and prideful to admit it to her face, she could tell that he was nervous. If letting him take the lead would give him some peace of mind, then she would gladly do it.

Grovyle stepped onto the grate. He took a breath and opened his mouth, preparing to call down and ask permission to enter the guild, but his words quickly died in his throat when the gates suddenly opened. He frowned, his deeply ingrained paranoia beginning to rise at how easy that had been. He cautiously poked his head around the corner of the door frame and scanned the enclosure for any danger. When he saw none, he glanced back at Celebi and silently jerked his head, indicating that she follow. She rolled her eyes again.

Grovyle cautiously climbed down the ladder, his frown deepening when he reached the bottom and saw that the second floor was empty.

“…Something’s not right here,” he muttered quietly. “I know it’s midday and most of the apprentices should be out exploring… but even so, the guild shouldn’t be this empty…”

“…Do you think something’s wrong?” Celebi asked in a whisper. When he nodded, she frowned. “But Dialga said that everything was fine!”

“He may have been referring to the ‘big picture,’” Grovyle reminded her. “It wouldn’t be the first time that he—did you hear that?”

“Hear what?” Celebi asked, blinking as she watched Grovyle crouch low to the ground and slink over to the second ladder.

“I thought I heard something moving on the floor below us,” Grovyle explained, peering down the hole. “But it’s too dark to see…”

Grovyle suddenly nodded decisively and stood up, moving towards the side of the ladder. “Be prepared for anything!” he warned before foregoing the ladder in favor of leaping directly down the hole—thereby putting him in the optimal position if he needed to immediately launch an attack once he reached the bottom. Celebi—slightly startled by the sudden leap—quickly flew down after him.

---------

The members of the guild, meanwhile, who had all assembled on the bottom floor of the guild for Laura’s “surprise” Sweet Sixteen party were hurriedly scrambling to find good hiding spots so that they could surprise the Birthday girl as much as possible when she and Paula finally made it over. They weren’t actually anticipating being able to surprise her very much, though, since they’d told her repeatedly of their plans over the past few days. But it had been a necessary evil considering that the last three times they’d tried to throw her a surprise party without warning her first she’d freaked out and either fainted, attacked them, or attacked them and then fainted—which was never a good way to start a celebration.

“Are you SURE it’s them, Diglett?” Loudred asked in as quiet a voice as he could manage.

“Who else could it be?” Diglett whispered back as he popped out of the ground and hurried to get into position. “Everyone in town knows that today is Laura’s Birthday and that we’re throwing her a surprise party.”

“Meh heh heh… Including her,” Croagunk snickered.

“Shush!” Chatot ordered. “I think I hear them!”

There was silence for a few moments, and then the guild heard a light “THUD!” followed by a… soft fluttering sound? They could just barely see the outlines of two pokémon in the dim light, and when the one in front took a cautious step forward…

“SURPRISE!” they all shouted, jumping out of their hiding spots as the lights flicked on. “HAPPY—GAAH!”

They were cut off by a sudden barrage of attacks and had to immediately duck back into their hiding places to avoid getting hit.

“You really think I’d fall for something like that?” they heard a gruff voice—which, while it did sound sort of familiar, definitely did not belong to Laura or Paula… especially considering it was male—demand. “That has got to be the worst trap ever—and trust me, I’ve seen some pretty bad ones.”

“Uh, My Dear? I think you need to take another look around… I really don’t think this was a trap,” came another voice. This one was feminine, but it didn’t sound like it belonged to Laura or Paula either…

“What do you—” the first pokémon began sharply before breaking off. There was a momentary pause before, “—oh,” he finished lamely, presumably because he’d finally gotten a good look at the room and seen the party decorations, which were now likely ruined from his attack. “Uh… My apologies?”

“Wh—Your APOLOGIES?!” Loudred demanded indignantly, though he still stayed hidden in case the crazy party crasher decided he wasn’t through attacking yet. “You just ATTACKED us!”

“It was a misunderstanding, I assure you.”

“Hm… Seems like you cause a lot of those whenever you travel back to this time period, don’t you?” his companion giggled.

“I—Last time was not my fault Celebi, and you know it!”

Wigglytuff frowned. “‘Celebi?’ ‘Time traveling?’” he repeated. Then he blinked as he realized why the voice sounded familiar. “Friendly-friend Grovyle! Is that you?!” he asked, his voice full of hope as he sprang up from his hiding place.

“WHAT? GROVYLE?” the others repeated in shock, jumping out to see for themselves.

Sure enough, there, standing near the foot of the ladder and glaring at his companion—who appeared to be a… shiny celebi?—was Grovyle. The same Grovyle who had first become known to the guild for his theft of the Time Gears. The same Grovyle who hadn’t actually been stealing them, but was, instead, trying to collect them to save the world from becoming paralyzed. The same Grovyle who wasn’t supposed to exist anymore because of the fact that the world had been saved from that paralyzed future!

Grovyle dropped his glare and slowly turned to face the room. “Er… Yes,” he said, gulping and giving a somewhat nervous wave. “H-hello Wigglytuff. It’s… good to see you again.”

“Hello everyone! My name’s Celebi!” Celebi suddenly introduced herself with a big smile. “It’s so nice to meet you! My Dear Grovyle has told me so much about you!”

“It’s nice to meet you, too, Friendly-friend Celebi!” Wigglytuff greeted, running over to shake her hand. “Paula told us all about you too!”

“Oh really? Did she say nice things?”

“Of course! She told us all about how you helped her, Laura, and Grovyle find the Passage of Time and—”

“Squawk! W-wait a moment, Guildmaster!” Chatot interrupted, wings fluttering in agitation. “Aren’t you the least bit curious as to how these two are here when they’re not supposed to exist anymore?!”

“Hey, hey! Or why they didn’t come back sooner to let us know they were alive?!” Corphish added.

Celebi took the liberty of answering. “Well the first answer is a bit complicated, and the second is, ah…” she cringed in embarrassment and began twiddling her thumbs nervously. “…W-well, it took a lot of time to rebuild and get the two opposing histories to stabilize with each other, so we just, uh… never actually thought about it until today! Tee hee…?”

“Well, golly!” Bidoof exclaimed, seeming oblivious to the dumbfounded silence afflicting the others. “What makes today so special?” he wondered.

Grovyle—who had been staring perplexedly at Celebi’s interactions with the denizens of the past—glanced over at him and quirked his lips into a sad grin. “Well, there were a few reasons,” the Grass-type said vaguely, deciding not to tell them that today would have been Laura’s Birthday for fear of making them upset, “but the main one is that Dialga—”

“Oh my gosh! Dialga is involved?” Sunflora suddenly panicked. “He’s not going crazy again, is he? Eek! That would be terrible!”

“No, no, no! It’s nothing like that!” Celebi assured. “He just thinks that enough time has passed since the crisis at Temporal Tower that things should be settled down here, and he wanted us to come observe how everyone was getting along and make sure you were all doing fine.

“Phew…” Sunflora sighed, feeling greatly relieved. “You had me worried!”

“Meh heh heh… You seem very close to Dialga, considering that he spent ‘years’ trying to kill you…” Croagunk mused.

Grovyle winced. “I suppose it is a bit odd when you put it that way,” he agreed. “But… well, it’s complicated. When Celebi said that we had been doing a lot of rebuilding, she wasn’t just talking about the tangible things.”

“Besides, Dialga isn’t really so bad when he’s not being influenced by darkness,” Celebi added. “He even suggested that while we were here we should pay a visit to some of our old friends!”

Wigglytuff cocked his head. “Oh, oh? You mean like Paula and—oh! This is perfect!” he suddenly exclaimed clapping his hands together with excitement. “Here we were all thinking that there wouldn’t be any surprises today… but you two will be the best surprises ever!”

Grovyle blinked and shared a glance with Celebi, “I beg your pardon?” he asked, feeling a rising sense of trepidation.

“Oh my gosh! You’re right, Guildmaster!” Sunflora gasped, clapping her leaves to her cheeks when she came to the same conclusion as Wigglytuff. “She’ll never see it coming!”

Suddenly it clicked with the remaining guild members. “OH! RIGHT!” Loudred exclaimed before turning towards Diglett. “How much time do we have before they’re supposed to GET here?”

But before Diglett could answer, the ringing of a bell echoed through the guild, signaling that someone was at the gates.

“…Apparently none! Everyone, get into position! It has to be them this time!”

Grovyle and Celebi looked on in befuddlement as everyone began scrambling for a hiding spot. Corphish noticed them and scurried back over. “Hey, hey! What are you two doing? You’ve got to hide!” he chided, pushing them down to crouch behind the ruined food table. “Now stay there and keep quiet!” he ordered, rushing off to dim the lights again before hurrying to find his own hiding place.

The duo from the future was left bewildered, sitting in the dark, and Celebi leaned over to whisper, “Grovyle, is everyone in the past always this strange?”

“If they are, I certainly didn’t encounter it last time I was here,” he whispered back.

“Shush! No talking!” Chatot ordered, causing them to quickly silence. Although, that might have been due more to the fact that they could hear quiet voices coming from the floor above them. Voices that seemed very familiar…

“…maintain that I wouldn’t have fainted if they hadn’t been acting so weird leading up to it.”

“Okay, fair point. But still… did you really expect that they would just let an excuse to party slip by?”

“Considering that I outright said I didn’t want one? I kind of hoped they would.”

“Oh come on, you know deep down that you enjoy that stuff just as much as they do.”

There was a pause, and Grovyle could practically hear the grin in the voice when the second speaker interpreted her companion’s silence as an unwilling agreement and said, “But anyways… you won’t attack them this time, right? I mean… they did warn you they were going to do this.”

“…I can make no promises that if they all jump out and yell ‘Surprise!’ I won’t—”

Just then the lights came on and everyone, except for the duo from the future, who were still trying to puzzle out the identity of the voices, jumped out and yelled, “SURPRISE! HAPPY SWEET SIXTEEN, LAURA!”

“Laura?!” Grovyle thought, stunned, but feeling a sudden surge of hope pouring through his soul. “Did they just say—?!”

He shot up from his hiding place, and his jaw dropped at the sight of Paula standing slightly off to the side of the ladder, sheepishly rubbing her neck under the scowl of the familiar-looking treecko who was standing beside her.

“Did they just say Laura?!” Celebi, who had also shot up at the mention of Laura’s name, gasped in joy.

At the sound of the voice the treecko stopped scowling at her partner, who was now slack-jawed with shock, and whipped around, her rainbow-colored eyes wide with a strange, yet perfect, mixture of disbelief and hope.

At the sight of her eyes—eyes which he would recognize anywhere—Grovyle drunkenly staggered forward a few steps. “L-Laura…?” he whispered hopefully, tears threatening to fall.

“G-Grovyle…?” the treecko—Laura!— whispered back, just as hopefully, as she too took a few timid steps forward, tears forming in her own eyes and slowly rolling down her cheeks.

At the sight of his long-time partner crying—actually, finally, crying—what little composure Grovyle had left completely shattered and his tears overflowed. The salty liquid blurred his vision as he ran forward and scooped Laura into his arms, twirling her around in joy before hugging her tightly. “Laura… you’re alive! You’re really, actually… alive!” he laughed out in a happy mantra.

“Grovyle, Grovyle, Grovyle!” Laura chanted back just as joyfully as she fiercely returned the hug.

---------

Eventually the duo calmed down enough to be able to at least partially focus their attention on something besides each other, and the group sat down to catch up and try to figure out how this miraculous reunion was possible. Of course, Grovyle was still reluctant to let Laura out of his sight, so he made to sit as close to her as possible and hold one of her hands so tightly that it was just shy of being labelled as a death grip. Despite being at an age when such displays of affection were usually very embarrassing, Laura wasn’t complaining. Instead she was reveling in the contact.

“I just can’t believe you’re really here…” Grovyle murmured for the tenth time, giving Laura another tight hug. “You even got your eye color back!”

“Yeah… and that’s not the only thing she got back… Grovy. Meh heh heh…” Croagunk mentioned mischievously.

Grovyle cringed at his old nickname and scowled down at Laura in betrayal that she had shared it with her friends… before he blinked suddenly in realization and his eyes widened at the implications. “Wait a minute… you got your memories back too?” he exclaimed incredulously.

Laura nodded. “Most of them,” she clarified. “I’m still missing a few, but considering who I am…” she trailed off with a shrug, as if to say that the situation wasn’t unusual or worrisome in the slightest.

Grovyle immediately noticed the jewelry she was wearing and couldn’t help but ask, “Isn’t that the bracelet you told me was a gift from your goddess? It looks a little different, but…”

“Yeah, it’s the same one,” Paula confirmed. “Apparently it was still stuck in that keyhole in Relatia’s Cave when she found it.”

“I finally found the letter you left there for me as well,” Laura added.

“It was still there? How odd,” Grovyle murmured, frowning in thought.

“Why is it odd? You already admitted that I was right about the cave!”

Grovyle winced in embarrassment and scrambled for something to save face, “Ah, W-well… uh… that may be true, but… um…”

Corphish couldn’t take it any longer. He understood that this was a very emotional time for everyone and that it was only natural that Grovyle and Laura would want the chance to talk since they hadn’t seen each other in years—not to mention the fact that Laura now had more of a context to work from—but he had a very important question to ask that had been pressing on his mind from the moment he saw Grovyle and Celebi in the world of the past. “So… hey, hey!” he suddenly blurted out. “I know you said the answer was complicated… but I’ve just got to know! What did happen to that whole ‘pokémon from the future have to disappear when they change the past’ deal?”

Celebi looked over from where she was sitting beside Grovyle and Laura and fondly watching their interactions. “Well… we did disappear. But only for a few moments,” she explained. “We were surprised too, but Dialga told us that someone who was ‘higher than himself’ brought us all back.”

“Wait… everyone got brought back?” Paula asked with a frown. “Including the pokémon like Dusknoir and the sableye?”

“Yes. They were all still alive—if only barely, considering what we had just gone through—when you and Laura changed the past, so they got brought back too,” Grovyle affirmed, causing mixed emotions among the assembled.

“…How are they doing?” Laura asked quietly, looking up at Grovyle with worry.

Grovyle gave a sad, soft sigh, “As good as can be expected considering that we all thought you were dead.”

Laura winced and opened her mouth to apologize, but before she could get the words out Loudred interrupted with, “Wait, wait, WAIT! You thought she was DEAD? Why would you think SHE was dead when EVERYONE ELSE—including the BAD GUYS—came back?”

“It isn’t as if that was our first assumption,” Celebi defended. “When Laura didn’t reappear on Temporal Tower’s Pinnacle with us, at first we figured that she had just reappeared in the past. But when we asked Dialga, he said that you hadn’t, Laura… and then when he couldn’t see you anywhere in the future… we had no choice but to assume the worst.”

“So… where were you all those months, Laura?” Paula asked, confused. “If you weren’t here… and you weren’t there... then…?”

“…I don’t know,” Laura admitted quietly, biting her lip and still feeling upset about all the worry she had caused everyone. “The only thing I remember about that time is what I told you when I woke up after you and Bidoof found me on the Beach.”

“…Could you repeat it for those who weren’t there at the time?” Grovyle asked, a brow raised expectantly.

“Uh… It was something about colors and… loneliness? I think?” Paula obliged. “There was more, but…”

“‘Colors and loneliness?’” Grovyle repeated in surprise. “Hm… That sounds a bit like Dusknoir’s original theory...”

Chatot blinked. “Squawk! What?!” he demanded. “Dusknoir’s theory? Since when do you listen to him?!”

Celebi ignored him, choosing to question a different part of Grovyle’s thoughts, “But didn’t Dialga say that was unlikely?”

Grovyle shrugged, the motion a bit awkward considering the precious bundle he was still holding in his arms, before replying, “Dialga isn’t perfect. For example: He didn’t even bother to double-check Laura’s possible location, and it turns out that she did show up back in the past. Okay, granted, it apparently took her a lot longer to reappear than it did us, but still… and then if you take into account what I told you about that meeting with Palkia…”

He trailed off when he heard a small “Um,” from his lap and looked down to see that Laura was frowning up at him.

“What was Dusknoir’s theory?” she asked.

“He thought that, considering you aren’t actually from the paralyzed future—a fact which, along with your age, you neglected to tell me!—you had been transported back to where he originally took you from,” Grovyle explained, still feeling somewhat annoyed, even years later, that she had kept what he considered vital information from him.

The guild members and Paula’s eyes widened and their jaws dropped at that bit of knowledge, but Laura simply blushed in embarrassment. “W-well it didn’t seem that important!” she weakly excused herself.

“It didn’t seem important that during our entire journey you were just a little kid?” Grovyle asked incredulously.

“You were a child for part of it too!”

“It didn’t seem important to mention that all your knowledge about time and theories on the world of the past came from PERSONAL EXPERIENCE?!”

“Well it’s not like I experienced it for very long…”

“It was still experience!” Grovyle hissed in exasperation.

Laura opened her mouth to retort again, but she was cut off by Sunflora frantically waving her leaves in a “stop” motion and saying, “Oh my gosh! Wait a minute! Laura, what did Grovyle mean when he said you weren’t from the paralyzed future?!”

Laura’s face drained of color and she stammered, “I… uh, w-well…”

Upon hearing Laura’s distress, Grovyle took a deep breath, calming himself down before explaining, “Apparently Laura wasn’t actually born in the pokemon world; she was born on Earth—the human world.”

Unfortunately, he was drowned out by the voices of everyone else exclaiming, “WHAT?! LAURA YOU WERE BORN IN THE HUMAN WORLD?!” with jaws dropped.

“But was Dusknoir right, Laura? Did you end up back home?”Celebi quickly cut in, anticipating that someone would soon ask a frantic question demanding further explanation.

At Celebi’s question Laura’s face took on an uncharacteristically hard look—complete with a bitter scowl—and she turned away, crossing her arms. “That place is not my home,” she said emphatically. “Yes, I may have been born there, and, yes, I may have spent the first few years of my life there… but that place has never been my home!”

Grovyle looked down at her, several choice memories suddenly coming to mind like pieces of a puzzle, and his eyes widened with a sudden, horrifying understanding. “Laura…” he tentatively began, “were your guardians really that bad?”

Laura sighed sadly, dropping her arms and glancing back up at her old friend. “Grovyle,” she quietly said, “life in the paralyzed future was a paradise in comparison.”

Everyone stared at her in horror, but, upon seeing that a few mouths were opening and correctly assuming that their owners were about to ask for more information, Laura quickly continued, “In any case… I don’t think I went back there. If I had, then Relatia would have told me when she visited here during the whole fiasco when the Time Gears were losing energy.”

Grovyle nodded in agreement. “Yes, that does make sense—” he suddenly paused as her words caught up with him. “Wait… WHAT?! That goddess of yours actually came here?! When did—? Wait. What was that about the Time Gears losing energy?!”

Laura winced, “Uh… It’s a long story. But you don’t have to worry about it! She and Mason assured us that the problem was fixed, so…”

“Who the heck is Mason?” Grovyle demanded.

“Oh!” Laura exclaimed, her eyes lighting up with happiness. “Right, you wouldn’t know him! He’s—”

But she was cut off when there was a giant flash of light in the room, leaving a familiar, golden-eyed celebi in its wake.

The celebi’s eyes roamed around, and a huge grin split his face when they finally located Laura (internally questioning why she was holding the hand of a strange—yet vaguely familiar—grovyle, but deciding he could wait until later to figure out the reason since she didn’t seem to be upset or in danger). “Surprise!” he yelled, opening his arms for a hug. “Happy Sweet Sixteen, Laura!”

“Mason!” Laura cried out in delight, all but wrenching her hand from Grovyle’s to accept the invitation of the celebi’s open arms.

Grovyle, for his part, was stunned that the sudden presence of this stranger had so quickly and effectively cut short his reunion with his old friend—who he’d thought had been dead for the past four years or so—and began to feel pangs of jealousy gather in his heart. Pangs which only grew stronger when Croagunk playfully elbowed him, teasing, “Meh heh heh… In answer to your question, Grovyle… he is Mason.”

(By the way, Mason was, indeed, the celebi that Grovyle alludes to fighting with earlier in the day. The reason he’s so upset about the flowers is that his plan for Laura’s birthday present was to make her a giant bouquet of Treasure’s Desire flowers. In preparation for that, he planted a bunch of seeds and time-traveled far into the future, so that he could ensure that the flowers would be the pinnacle of flowery perfection. Unfortunately, when he finally reached the spot where he’d planted the flowers... he found evidence that they’d been cut. He tracked down the source and found--you guessed it--Grovyle. This, among other things, is why he spends many of the next few chapters in a state of annoyance with him--and Grovyle has his own reasons to be annoyed with Mason, in turn, as soon as he figures out who he is. Laura, meanwhile, is mostly oblivious to their annoyance with each other (or is at least pretending to be), in part because they’re trying to hide their animosity from her. Celebi is genuinely oblivious, and wouldn’t really care one way or the other. Mainly she’s just distracted by the novelty of the situation and getting to explore everything the town has to offer, though. She may or may not be the one to let slip to the others about Duskull’s relationship to a certain Dusknoir. I’m still undecided on that front, though, as that bit of information might be better served coming to light/getting mentioned by someone at a later time I have in mind.)

#pokemon mystery dungeon #explorers of sky #the world's treasure #writing #fanfiction #spoilers #massive spoilers

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spill-tears-but-never-coffee · 4 years

Text

Mornings are for coffee and second-degree burns

So this is my first story. It’s a Naito x reader. italics denotes Japanese while bold depicts internal dialogue. Please be kind.

Waiting for Sanda was getting ridiculous, the man would show up late to his own funeral. “Probably still sleeping,” Naito mumbles to himself. Heaving a deep sigh, he pushes himself away from the table and stands up to grab a coffee.

The shop was busy this morning with students from the nearby high school taking their time figuring out a more complicated way to order overpriced milkshakes. While glaring daggers into the backs of teenagers he’s startled by a high pitch squeal coming directly behind him. He swings his head around and observers two women; one gripping the other in a bear hug, while the other looked utterly baffled at the sudden turn of events.

The bear hugger is making that atrocious nail on a chalk board noise. She looks like a typical office worker: non-descript blue blouse, tight but not to revealing skirt, high heels and pearl earrings. The other, a gaijin is pretty, but not that pretty. She’s wearing a similar outfit, but with a white shirt and tight black skirt that shows off her narrow waist and slim ankles that end in a pair of red heels.

As if feeling his gaze, the gaijin makes eye contact and gives a sort of lop-sided smile, he frowns, unamused at the intrusion to his thoughts, and spins around.

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You walked into the shop with your co-worker Niko and came to a complete halt. The Japanese characters everywhere briefly overwhelm you despite the fact you regularly ordered from this coffee chain at home.

“Y/L/N-san, is everything okay?”

Being formally addressed like this breaks you out of your brief culture shock, “Niko, you don’t need to use san with me.”

The other woman frowns slightly, “Not using san is bad manners” she begins to educate you. You nod your head familiar with this argument. Hell, it had been made in every Welcome to Japan book your family had foisted on you before you reached Tokyo.

Blowing out a breath and struggling to right this situation without offending your co-worker you start, “Even between friends,” while stepping into line.

“Friends,” Niko’s voice shakes a little, like she is about to cry. No longer sure if this if this is such a brilliant idea, you nod your head anyway doubling down on your gamble. “Oh! Y/N-chan you are so sweet,” she exclaims.

Seriously? What is with the damned titles in this country you think. You aren’t used to the titles that everyone seems to have in the country as back home, life is far easier. Sure, you could say Mr. or Mrs., or occasionally Your Honor, but the Japanese have a title for the grandmother of your closest female friend since birth. Your train of thought is abruptly derailed by Niko literally squeezing you to death. “Oh,” you wheeze all breath leaving your body as your arms are pinned to your side.

“We’re friends,” she shrieks in a near inaudible level it is so high pitched.

“Of course,” you smile and try to disengage your new friend.

“This is the best,” she squeals. To your chagrin the man in front of you turns around and makes eye contact with you. You can tell he is not pleased by this and is eyeing up the situation in disdain. “Sorry,” you offer, but he isn’t paying attention any more.

“So, Niko,” you say extricating yourself from her grasp. “How do I order a Java-chip Frappuccino in Japanese?”

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His phone begins to vibrate in his pocket. He pulls out the device and eyes the screen. Languidly he taps the green button and holds up the phone to his ear, “Hey.”

“Hey,” the caller begins.

“You’re late,” Naito deadpans. He is trying not to convey annoyance as he had also gone out late last night with the rest of LIJ and yet he was up, but he doesn’t say a thing.

“I know,” Sanda’s laughter echoes from the other side, “Get a large cappuccino for me. I just got up from a rough night.” he rolls his eyes skyward as the other man brags, “…missing a shoe and I’m pretty sure a pint of blood from that girl we met at the bar.”

Naito makes eye contact with the barista and gives him a slight head nod as he retrieves his caffeine fix. “You can get it yourself,” he growls not amused by his stablemate’s lazy attitude.

Sanda tries to sound remorseful but comes off unconcerned with his friend’s frustration at his late arrival, “Sure, Sure, I’ll be there in a minute.”

Grunting in agreement he attempts to end the call while carrying his coffee and getting out of the shop. All of which is apparently too much to do at once and he collides with a solid force. “Oh shit,” a voice rings out. He hadn’t realized it, but when he turned around to leave he had run right into the gaijin behind him and spilled his hot coffee all over her.

Eyes wide she sucks in a deep breath and peels the now see through fabric away from her skin. He’s stuck dumb for a moment as registers her distress. “I’m sorry,” he mutters while trying to find something to wipe off the burning coffee. He sees a barista rushing over with a towel, grabbing it from the service worker’s hands and he begins to try and sop up the coffee.

“Oh fuck,” she whimpers pulling the ruined fabric away from her skin and fanning it in a futile effort to cool off.

He doesn’t need to understand English all that well to know she is in pain and it’s his fault. He doubles down on his efforts to dry her off. That is until he’s interrupted by the least menacing growl in history, “What are you doing?” Momentarily taking his eyes of the fabric in front of him he makes eye contact with the voice. It’s Bear Hugger.

“Admiring the stitching,” he deadpans while going back to the task at hand, except this time he picks his eyes off the fabric and looks at the woman in front of him. Her big eyes are filled with tears, her face flushed with heat or embarrassment he can’t be sure at this point. Realizing that the towel in his hand has cleaned up as much of the mess at it can, he pulls away, sees the faint outline of the bra, and her body’s reaction to sudden change in temperature.

He forces his attention elsewhere. Bear Hugger is speaking English with Coffee Gaijin who looks embarrassed. He can’t understand other than “okay”. But what he lacks for in vocabulary he makes up for in perception. She is breathing in deeply through her nose, warding off further tears and it strikes him as oddly brave. The words leave his mouth before they register in his brain, “Tell your friend I’ll buy her another blouse.”

Coffee Gaijin looks confused at the turn of events. Bear Hugger steps into the conversation, “What?”

“I’ll buy you another shirt,” he repeats slowly and with better diction. Sometimes women need things to be repeated.

Bear Hugger rudely replies, “She doesn’t speak Japanese.”

“Well then tell her what I said.” He doesn’t make the statement a suggestion.

They have a staring contest before she breaks eye contact and turns to Coffee Gaijin. Naito is now keenly aware that the entire coffee shop is watching them with morbid fascination. Fucking Sanda. They have a brief conversation before Hugger replies, “She says it’s just a shirt, no worries.”

He grits his teeth, “Tell the gaijin I’ll buy her another shirt,” he pauses his anger rising at being rejected, “One that isn’t so cheap you can see everything.”

Hugger’s black eyes widen, and her mouth drops open, “I can’t say that!”

“Well tell her something that will get her to buy a better shirt,” he seethes. Hugger glares at him he teases his lips into what could be construed as a smile. Coffee Gaijin is utterly confused at the tension between the two until Hugger sighs and begins a long and he guess a wholly inaccurate translation of his offer. Realizing that he won’t take no for an answer Coffee Gaijin looks at him and nods her head.

“We finish work at 5.00, we’ll meet here,” Hugger hesitates before adding, “and you’ll buy her whatever she wants.”

He raises an eyebrow, “That’s what she said?” Somehow Coffee Gaijin doesn’t strike him as the extortion type.

“No that’s what I said,” Hugger glares at him again, but this time he smirks and turns to the topic of their negotiation.

Holding out a hand, Coffee Gaijin needs no translation and digs into her purse. She pulls out a phone so new it still has protective plastic on it. Fumbling to unlock the screen she eventually places the phone into his hand gently. Her fingers momentarily brush against him and his world tilts just a little. Brushing it off he types in his number and calls his phone to ensure she has his number, but before he hands it back he briefly browses through her contacts, they’re sparse and mostly in English. He grimaces and hands it back to her. “Five o’clock,” he enunciates in English and turns away from the foreigner and Bear Hugger marching out the door to find Sanda.

#naito x oc #naito x reader #LIJ #los ingobernables de japon #just a fanfic so you can continue on if this isnt your jam #naito #tetsuya naito #njpw #new japan pro wrestling #fanfic #coffee shop

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flyswhumpcenter · 5 years

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Bad Things Happen Bingo! The event where you send me requests according to this marvelous card! (Red cross is the completed prompt, character headshots are prompts I’ve already filled. I don’t have any request left, so feel free to send in suggestions for this card!).

Despite the initial idea of writing a prompt fill for something called the *Bad* Things Happen Bingo, I sure am a softie. This is fluff because all I've been writing lately is angst (but always with happy endings so fluff was bound to happen), and also to make up for all the angst I've written about the show lately. It's a quick and light fic because I really wanted to celebrate one of my all-time favorite characters' bday without being late as a train, so please excuse my lack of words for this one haha. And I'm also pulling out my "vague timeline" setting again because I was thinking of this story happening during the first season, but then I mentioned Tachimukai, so to heck with it. just take my offering. I'm just gonna say most likely after the third season of the original, where everyone is just a grade above. It works cuz none of the OG Raimon was in 3rd year lmao

Happy birthday Endou I love you and your smile and your absolute dumbassery

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Blazing Zenith

Summary: A team always makes things less frustrating, even if said frustating thing is a hospital stay.

Fandom: Inazuma Eleven (original series) Relationship: Endou & the original Raimon Eleven

Wordcount: 1.1 K words

Event hosted by @badthingshappenbingo

AO3 version available here.

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It’s frustrating.

It really is frustrating, no matter how he tries to twist things out.

It really is frustrating, no matter how he tries to twist things out and, in the end, he’s just trying to roll around in bed before it starts hurting again. Feels bad.

The room’s boring. It’s white and grey, safe for pastel blues and yellows for the curtains, and even the view from the window is boring as far as he knows: from the third floor or so, all he can see is the blue sky of August. It’s the ideal weather for soccer and he’s sure that everyone else is having fun outside training, exchanging the ball, scoring goals or stopping shoots. Good for them, of course: a team has to train and get better, it’s part of what’s fun about soccer and sports in general. He’s sure everyone is happy, outside, playing around. They deserve that, obviously.

Still, that doesn’t remove his frustration at being unable to go outside and play with everyone else. It’s not even his fault if he’s there: they said that it happened sometimes with people, that it was random and that there was nothing he could have done about it. In fact, on second thought, that’s even worse: at least, if he could have done anything about that, he wouldn’t be lying here with no purpose and nothing to do to keep his hands occupied.

God, being stuck in a hospital sucks, and it keeps getting worse.

It’s boring to lie around in bed all day, without even being able to turn around, when he could be playing outside. Hospitals aren’t places he likes anyway: they’ve always been synonymous with bad things happening around him, including Gouenji’s sister being in a coma and all that’s meant ever since the team has learnt about it. He doesn’t like being there, restrained to a bed and all alone like this.

He’s also never liked being alone for long periods of time. He’s just used to having people around: friends, family, opponents of a day, rivals, classmates, teammates. He’s way too used to hanging out with his team to feel complete without them by his side. He may have only been here for a day or so, but he already misses everyone, and solitude rubs salt on his wounds.

(That’s how they say it, right? That sounds like a thing Natsumi or Tachimukai would say…)

A knock on his door immediately catches his attention, causing him to immediately sit up, cringe because of his stitches hurting from the sudden commotion, and reply to whoever this is to enter with excitement. Finally, someone else than him, in this room!

He’s still kind of surprised when he sees a dozen persons or so barge into the room, hardly fitting in there without pushing against each other, but it’s not out of the ordinary for the Raimon Eleven. At least, it’s not weird or anything, to him.

“I knew this was going to be a bad idea…” Kazemaru mumbles under his breath, ponytail disturbed by Shourin on one side and Shishido on the other. “We can’t fit in there, guys!”

“C’mon, I’m sure we can if we try harder!” Kurimatsu replies right afterwards, tiny hands lifted as to signal his position.

“S-sorry guys…” Kabeyama apologizes, trying to reduce the space he’s taking, to no avail: Someoka still looks bothered by being almost squeezed against the wall.

Seeing his friends in this funny situation this reminds me of the atmosphere in the club and he’s so grateful for this. It’s like bringing the club to his room!

“Hi everyone!” He greets them, ignoring the numb pain lingering from his moves, waving his hand at the group.

“Hi, Endou,” Gouenji reacts with crossed arms and somehow outside the mass, back against the wall. It doesn’t seem to make Someoka any happier.

“I’m really glad you’ve all come!”

The entire mass says hi in their manner, with delays in-between themselves, yet in the end he still grins at having some company at last.

“I can’t breathe…” An unidentified whisper, most likely Kageno’s. “Guyyyyys…”

Then something hits him on the head.

“Wait, guys. What’s bringing you here? You’re not training?”

“Are you kidding?” Kazemaru pushes aside Shourin and Shishido to show himself.

“It’s not the same without you, Captain”, Kabeyama explains while fiddling with his fingers.

“What they’re trying to say is that they couldn’t focus and would rather pay you a visit,” Kidou ends the topic, arms crossed and smirking.

“Guys…” He doesn’t quite know what to say, but he tries to collect himself anyway. “Thank you so much…”

“It’s just a visit, no need to get all emotional over it,” Someoka chimes in.

He feels a bit embarrassed by the remark, but he laughs it off anyway and smiles to his teammates.

“It’s still really nice to have you guys here! How’s training?”

“It…” Handa chuckles awkwardly. “…didn’t go as planned, I suppose.”

“Yeah… Something like that,” Shourin confirms, not any easier about the situation.

“I see…”

The conversation derails on training as he tries to give everyone advice and tips, but in the end, the topic doesn’t revolve around soccer for very long, which is odd all things considered. Still, he very much enjoys the company nonetheless, so he doesn’t mind. They’ll talk about soccer later, he guesses.

“How long are you staying at the hospital for, Captain?” Kabeyama asks, smiling, but with eyebrows slightly frowned.

“I hope not for long! It’s just not the same without the Captain y’know!” Kurimatsu adds.

“I think they said a week or so… For stitches or something,” he’s not even sure himself, all things considered.

“They’re right to be cautious and have you stay here for a little while,” Kidou says, the group’s attention focusing on him. “We wouldn’t want you bleeding during practice because it’d have reopened, don’t we?”

“Wait, Captain, why are you in the hospital for in the first place?” Shishido asks, sounding lost. “I think I missed the memo…”

“What’s the word again?” His memory fails him. “A…”

“Appendicitis,” Kidou saves the day yet again.

“Yeah, that!”

A couple “ooooh” echoed in the room.

The light-hearted chattering he’s missed for a day suddenly comes to a halt when a point gets brought up.

“Don’t you think we’ve all forgotten something, guys?” Gouenji asks, arms still crossed.

“Oh, that’s right!” Kabeyama is the first to react.

The others follow suit, none without funny reactions to witness.

“Forgot what?” He asks, confused. It seems to be a great deal to them.

He may have forgotten about it until this moment, but Mamoru still feels happy tears when he hears the collective message they had to convey to him:

“Happy birthday!”

And, in that moment, he’s the proud captain and friend of the Raimon Eleven.

#bad things happen bingo #inazuma eleven #endou mamoru #kazemaru ichirouta #gouenji shuuya #kidou yuuto #kabeyama heigorou #raimon eleven #fluff #hospitalization #friendship #tooth-rotting fluff #kind of cheesy ngl #birthday fic #light-hearted #hurt comfort #but like cringe is dead #bthb 2 #inazuma eleven og

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ammacdiaries-blog · 5 years

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When In Williston....Just Don’t

First entry. First attempt at writing a short story. The following is a true story. Obviously, names aren’t included. I do welcome all feedback. Please also share.

Here goes….

Fresh out of training, yet still in my probationary period dubbed first 120. I began my embarquement from Seattle, Washington to Chicago, Illinois on my normal run called The Empire Builder. The total journey would be 6-days; 3 there and 3 back. Assigned to the Sleeper Car, I was in charge of first class services. This entails providing services to 16 to 24 rooms with 1 to 5 passengers per room; making beds, to-go meals, luggage assist, etc. I especially like working in the sleepers because of the direct customer contact.

This summer was proving to be an especially difficult one. Continual track work bestowed us with countless delays. This resulted in irritated passengers. Still nothing I couldn’t handle. Even as we entered Wolf Point, MT and I learned a tornado caused a freight liner to derail just ahead of us, I could still direct the mood of irritated passengers into a more positive one and keep people entertained.

I guess I was too focused on the people and paid no attention to my arachnid homies, causing one to get especially bitter. I asleep in my room, while Charlotte spun her web somewhere in the vicinity. After a long day of whipping out some web, she must of developed a bad taste in her mouth.

Through her several eyes, I can only guess she saw me as one of two things: An asshole who was keeping her trapped there, or a nice humid incubator where she could sink her teeth into a nice tender thigh. Since Wilbur never gave her any bacon, after writing all those messages in the web, I assume she saw this as her one opportunity to get some good squealing in.

I awoke with a burning sensation in between my legs. Not that of a result of a great time with a complete stranger in a cheap hotel room. But still one that would require countless antibiotics. Where’s the fun in that? I’m not sure whatever happened to Charlotte. But I’m guessing after her journey to the nether regions of my southern hemisphere, she turned eight feet up and six feet under.

Now me being me, I of course fell right back to sleep. If the intruder alarm in my house won’t wake me up for long, chances are some heat near my hot pocket won’t wake me up either. When I awoke though, I discovered Charlotte’s little parting gift for me.

Throughout the next several hours, I worked as normal. Trying to ignore the pain of what started out as a pea-sized nob, and then had grown into a half-dollar sized coin. By the night, I had started mastering the penguin waddle. You skinny people might not get this reference. But the penguin waddle is what us larger people do when chafing occurs in between the thighs. As to not piss our ham hocks off any further, we keep our thighs close together and swish our hips, while keeping our legs straight in order to keep pain at a minimal. I haven’t had to use this maneuver since my teenage years. Luckily, it was like hopping on a bike after not being on one for a decade. Oh the things I take pride in.

Going late into my 3-day, and still no where near Chicago, the abscess between my thighs had now grown to about 6-inches. Still too scared to seek medical attention, I did find it in my better interest to let a crew member know just in case, you know, something worse could happen. Despite his years of experience and vast knowledge of how Amtrak handles things, I still chose not to make management aware. During the first 120, it was ingrained in our heads you will be fired for any mishap. I must emphasize, this is not the case as I later learned.

Our layover in Chicago, when on time is approximately 18-hours. The delay from the derailment lowered that layover to approximately 4-hours. I had planned on going to urgent care, getting an I&D, then leaving out on my return trip. Unfortunately, I had just literally pulled a 24-hour shift, and was allotted 4-hours to do laundry, take a hot bath, nap for 1-hour and then return to work the train going back. I was riding myself hard and putting me away wet.

The wound had now spread from my groin to knee and was the most beautiful color of dark purple, had it not been my flesh. Full car coming back, there would be no rest for this wicked man.

In the distance, I heard the sound of a call light go off. As it was lunch time, this could only mean they wanted to order their food to-go as opposed to being normal people and eating in the dining car. Normally I wouldn’t be so irritated by such an easy request. But my time back on this bicycle was making my ass more tender than veil.

After collecting their order and returning with their food, I knocked on their door. The vibrations of the knocking must of set off the richter scale because a splitting of the plates happened. I ruptured. The man answered the door with the biggest smile. Those fresh burgers for him and his girlfriend had finally arrived. And how he couldn’t wait to sink his teeth into them.

Yes he was greeted with that, but no. There would be no smell of fresh angus beef and bacon in the air. There would be that of the foul stench of the walking dead. I dare not say what just happened. We both looked at each other as if to say “What hell did you eat?”. He knew it wasn’t him. I knew it was me. But he didn’t know that. I gave him the look like it was him. Which I hope made him believe it was his girlfriend. Both our faces wrinkled to the point of needing an immediate injection of botox. We still managed to exchange product for gratuity. If they are still together, I won’t ever know.

I was at a loss. There was no more penguin waddle left in me. I could only now slither like a slug to the nearest shower room and play doctor with my first aid kit. I texted my partner in crime to let him know that an act of God had just occurred. And thank goodness because we were approaching our next stop and I had to let passengers on and off. There was no way I was going to help people with sappy, soupy pants on with the fragrance of that one wouldn’t even smell in a soup kitchen.

Now seriousness was going to have to take place. There was no further thing I could do but seek medical attention.

“Good afternoon passengers” came across over the PA system. “Our next station stop will be Williston, North Dakota.”

This was to be my stop. The conductor had called for an ambulance to take me to the hospital. I had only had about 15-minutes to pack my room, dress my wounds, dress myself and be available at the door. Oh, and please don’t forget that I’m still only one 1-hour of sleep.

As I stood there waiting for that next station stop, my passengers had began to cluster around the vestibule area, eager to step off the train, have that much desired cigarette, and of course witness my grand exit.

I open the door upon arrival and before me are approximately 14 paramedics. Not quite the paparazzi, but still very intimidating. Then the press conference begins.

“Why is it you think you need an ambulance?” the one reporter boasted.

“I beg your pardon?” What the hell kind of question is that?

“Why do you think you need to go to the hospital?”

Am I interviewing for a patient position, I thought. I turned and look behind me to see my passengers just a chomping at the popcorn, anticipating what I was going to say next. Well I’m sorry to disappoint. But your not going to hear me say “Oh I have a compromised immune system and a wound the size of my fucking thigh just blew up in my thigh and I thought this would just be the next fun thing to do in my day.”

“I’ll be more than happy to answer that questions on our way to the hospital without an audience.” I assertively replied.

While dancing in the back of the ambulance to every pothole on the road, someone must have heard me say “I have ebola”, because when I got to the hospital, every person was wearing thick gowns, spit guards, and filtered masks. I’m now so emotionally distraught, and tired, I have no idea what to do.

I then was blessed to meet probably the only person with a brain, the PA who walked in asking why she felt she was on a movie set instead of a hospital. As the lambs started “baaaaaaaaaahing” out their reasons, she quickly schooled them and said contact precautions as normal. None of this additional crap is necessary. She then looks at my wound and says “Cellulitis and possible MRSA.” Oh Christ, I thought. My next emotion was to cry. Apparently this was something they didn’t know how to handle. Well not handle so much as acknowledge.

Because at this moment, I had learned Nurse Ratched had continued her education, becoming a doctor, my doctor and was standing before me. “If we don’t keep you here, what is it you think you’re going to do?”

I didn't understand the question. Yes, it was to the point. I just didn’t see how it related to me. “What do you mean, what am I going to do?”

“Well do you think Amtrak is going to just give you another ticket? What are you doing to do?”

Despite Nurse Ratched’s continued education, I noticed she still somehow must have missed any courses involving bedside manner. It feared me though that once I explained I was an employee and fully insured, how quickly her tune changed. But that wasn’t a hill I was ready to climb.

While being admitted as an inpatient, I had understandingly fallen asleep to only be awoken by the Hospitalist, a harpy I dubbed Olga the Oger. “Michael, we need to talk.”

I fumbled to awaken myself. SInce my bladder felt as if to explode, this initial task was a bit easier. “I need to use the restroom first.”

I’m not sure what kind of fetishes this harpy had, but she grabs a urinal,sits it in front of me, then sits down herself, giving me the strongest execution of poker face I had ever seen.

“Without an audience.” I commanded.

While waiting for her to come back in the room, flapping her wings to perch in her nest, I fell back asleep. Then again with that same shrill I heard “Michael, I said we needed to talk.”

Hold up. What’s that? No ma’am. You obviously don’t know who I am. It was at that moment my hummingbird ass was put to rest by my alligator mouth. I couldn’t believe I had it in me. The harpy looked down, looked at me in the eyes, then said “I am getting security. I don’t feel safe with you in the room.”

Security must have been busy fighting the meth monsters from the emergency room. Because she came back with no soldiers. Which I was fine with. I grabbed my big boy britches, apologized and proceeded our discussions.

Three more times she ran out of my room in fear. No my friends, not from my hot temper. But to change every order she had already written for me because she failed to find out my allergies beforehand. I was starting to feel that Charlotte and I were going to be seeing each other again in the after life by the way things were going.

Well I survived the that 5-day stay in the hospital. But no. Mount Fiji had yet to be conquered. My final night in Williston was to be at a hotel. Work had generously called me cab to take me to the Ritz, no Discount something or other inn.

As I stand there waiting for my chariot to arrive, a strong sense of anxiety consumed me as I saw this black SUV come racing towards me. Oh God. This can’t be my cab. I found placing my luggage in the back to be especially easy as the the whole back window had been busted out. Upon entering the cab, I took notice to the several inches of dirt and dead insects upon my bench. I especially loved that my “driver” rhythmically licked and chewed his lips as if they were two cheeseburgers from the best burger joint in town.

“Now they told me you would need a receipt. I told them we give receipts on cards.”

Fair enough I thought. Wait….What’s this. Lip Licker hands me the card of a female real estate broker who specializes in short sales at Remax. On the back of my card it says Cab Fare $17.00 and a signature. Oh yeah. Accounting will look at this like seeing a turd floating in a punch bowl.

Thank Christ, I’m at the hotel! I walk in to see the accommodations were doable. Not the Ritz as I dreamed. But after my week, a cardboard box set up in the middle lane of a highway in a rainstorm wouldn’t seem so disappointing. “Sir. We have your complimentary dinner available for you in the hallway over there.”

Dinner in the hallway? Oh hell yeah! Jackpot. I couldn’t wait. As I stand in line behind every roughneck in the state acting like vultures before 3 metal canisters, I couldn’t hardly wait to see what lottery winnings I could be consuming. Door number one had something that I think might have been tuna. Whatever it was, it was shredded, white, and crusty on top. Behind door number two, chicken so oily, had I dropped it, Foghorn Leghorn would have slid straight to the Canadian Border. Then behind door number three, corn dogs so hard, I could speer someone’s eyes out from across the room. I figured between the preservatives, and the 600 different antibiotics running through my system, the speers would be the best way to go.

Oh let the C-Diff begin!!!!

It’s safe to assume, if I’m ever bit again, by anything, I’ll probably not wait so long to address it. Maybe I’ll start asking for directions too.

#williston #hotpocket #ammacdiaries #michaelmacneil

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blaperile · 5 years

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Homestuck Epilogues - Meat - Page 4

#Homestuck #The Homestuck Epilogues #Meat #reaction #John #Dave #Jade #WV

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