#april blues won’t starve to rest | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

beetlegoose01 · 3 years

Text

Frostbite Chapter 5- Toxic

AN: Happy Friday y’all! Here’s a longer chapter to celebrate! It’s a little intense, but I hope you enjoy.

~~~

Morning came sooner than any of the turtles anticipated, but especially to Donnie who was running on three hours of sleep. He counted on snoozing for another twenty minutes before training, but luck wasn't on his side. Even before his own carefully crafted alarm clock robot beeped, a loud voice woke him.

"Donnie!" came Michaelangelo bounding in with the energy of a golden retriever puppy. He bounced on the crooked bed with a loud creak of movement.

He groaned, still half asleep and bleary. "I'm sleeping, Mikey."

His baby blue eyes sparkled with mischief, prepared to annoy his older brother with his charming, but obnoxious grin. "No you're not. If you were asleep, how could you be talking to me?" He poked Donnie's head playfully. "Duh. I missed you, bro." He lay flat on his back, taking up most of the space and nearly smacking Don in the face. "It was like peanut butter without the jelly. Batman without Robin. Raph without Chompy! Elphaba without Gali-"

Rolling over, Donnie sat up begrudgingly. "I get the point. But you saw me last night." He stated obviously. "Remember?"

He scrunched his nose thoughtfully. "That was forever ago! And you were all cooped up in your lab for most of the time. We never hang anymore. Like, doing fun stuff."

"I guess you're right about that." He shrugged. "Sorry, I promise we'll hang out again sometime. Maybe tonight?"

"Dude, that's gregarious!" He looked immensely proud that he used a big word, even if it was used incorrectly.

"Uh...close."

"We can have pizza, play video games, ooh! Have a monster movie marathon!" He exclaimed, listing each activity on his stubby fingers.

"That sounds great."

"Come on bro, I'm making everyone breakfast! So you better hurry before Raph hogs it all." Mikey leapt off the bed, springing into action. Most likely the kitchen.

It took a good five minutes for Donatello to physically move out of bed. He wasn't one for sleeping in, but he was never opposed to it either. Whereas Leo was always awake in the early morning and Mikey was chipper no matter what. And Raph...well, Raph was Raph.

The kitchen was bustling with energy, at least from Mikey's angle. He was cheerfully serving up omelettes on plates, carrying the ones he couldn't hold on top of his head with the balance of a ninja. Mikey had a talent for making even the fouled stench of the sewers comfortable and hospitable with only his charm and sweet demeanor. Not to mention his excellent cooking skills.

"Omelette au fromage made especially for Master Splinter." He said, passing the first plate to the wise rat. "Fromage means cheese in Spanish!" He explained. "Or...one of those languages."

"Thank you, Michaelangelo."

"Looks delicious, Mikey." April complimented, still residing in the lair. It was an hour or so before school, so she enjoyed having breakfast with the brothers. It felt as though she was part of their little family.

"Eh, don't forget me! I'm starved." Raph complained, eagerly stabbing his food with a fork as he dug in. Smiling softly, he cut up neat pieces for Chompy Picasso.

"Where is Leonardo?" Splinter glanced around the kitchen, noticing the blue masked turtle seemed to be missing.

"I thought he was mediating still." Raph said, puzzled.

"No, he wasn't." said Mikey. "I checked." He looked innocently at his brothers and April. "I made a plate of food for him and everything! Now it's gonna get cold." He looked down glumly.

"Maybe he's still asleep?" April suggested.

The three youngest turtles shook their heads in unison.

"Leo's always the first one awake. It's weird that he isn't here." Raph lifted Chompy onto his shoulder. "Not that I mind. I like the peace and quiet and lack of Space Heroes references to start my morning right."

"Donatello, perhaps you should check your brother's room?" Splinter suggested, stroking his beard thoughtfully. "It is possible he is still resting or feeling unwell."

"Hai Sensei."

April, sensing his apprehensiveness, stood up and rested her hand on his shoulder. "It'll be alright. I promise."

Feeling comforted by her warm tone, Donnie nodded firmly, and left the kitchen with high hopes that Leo was just snoozing longer than usual.

Something wasn't right. Donatello knew this, deep down, despite his optimism. His worry was growing the closer he moved to Leo's room, silently praying that everything would be alright. Raising a shaking hand, he opened the door.

He breathed a sigh of relief. There Leo lay in a deep slumber, even snoring lightly. It felt awful to simply wake him up, but he didn't really have a choice.

"Rise and shine, sleepyhead." He murmured, patting him. "Training time."

Unexpectedly Leo retracted his head into his shell, snoring even louder. This was beyond unusual- heck, even out of character. Leo was always extremely punctual and neat, refusing to be late for any training session.

"Why are you so tired?" Donnie wondered aloud. "We went to bed at the same time..."

Leo yawned, sluggishly moving forward out of his shell and stretching. "M' awake." He blinked. "Were you talking to me?" The blank expression that he gave was enough to cause further anxiety.

"Yeah? We have training."

His eyes widened. "Training! Oh, sewer apples!" He stumbled out of bed clumsily. "I'm here, I'm-" He yawned again. "Awake."

Donnie frowned, trying to analyze why Leo was so exhausted. Sure, they went to bed fairly late, but they've gone to bed later before and Leo hadn't been nearly as tired as he was now. But he wasn't about to start an argument either.

"Right."

Training was...awkward to say the least. Leonardo, who was usually extremely precise and swift with his movements, was now sloppy and uncoordinated. Everyone seemed to notice, but no one made a comment until Mikey had successfully pinned his oldest brother to the ground after a Barai.

"Booyakasha!" Mikey cheered. "I did it!"

"Yeah, because Leo barely put any effort into it." Raph said smugly, holding Donnie in a headlock.

"Yame!" Splinter commanded.

Dropping Donnie casually, Raphael glanced at their sensei with a bored expression on his face.

April, looking uncomfortable, placed her tessen back in her bag. "Class starts soon. I should probably get to school." Turning to Splinter, she smiled. "Arigato, Sensei. See ya later guys."

Splinter nodded. "Excellent work, April."

Leo groaned, rubbing his back. Humiliated, he bowed miserably.

"Leonardo, I think it would be best for you to rest."

"Arigato Sensei." He replied gratefully.

Raph crossed his arms. "That was pathetic. Even for you." He sneered. "Sorry we can't have you leadin' without your little nap time. Should I tuck you in too?"

He glared. But he didn't seem to have the energy to argue.

Donnie watched him leave, a pensive look on his face.

~•~

April found herself trudging to school, regretting leaving the lair after remembering she had a math quiz that she forgot to study for. Funny how she'd rather be in the sewers over a classroom.

A long time ago she craved a normal life, but now she loathed it.

Though there wasn't much normality in crushing on both a deranged hockey player and a mutated turtle. With the Kraang, mutants still running rampage- her life was destined to be abnormal.

She placed her bags away in her locker, sighing loudly. The bell was about to ring, and she hadn't seen any sign of Casey. She had been hoping to chat with him at least a little bit.

"Hey April!" A pretty girl with afro puffs came towards her, beaming.

"Hi Summer," She breathed, tension breaking at the sight of her friend. Well...not really friends. But they were friendly, and that was good enough. "How was your weekend?"

"Fine." Summer said. "Very productive. The yearbook committee is in full swing!" Glancing at her quizzically, she giggled. "Are you okay? You seem a bit distracted."

"Hm? Oh yeah, I'm fine. Listen...have you seen Casey?"

Summer, who was fairly popular and seemed to know everyone at the school thought for a moment. "Casey Jones? Senior?" After April nodded, she shook her head. "Nope, I don't think so. Sorry, I know you two are close."

April felt herself blush. "It's complicated."

"Don't I know it. Come on, it's time for homeroom."

Her mind wandered throughout the day, wondering how she could possibly concentrate on physics, when the growing uneasy feeling in her stomach.

It was all going to be alright.

Convincing Donnie was one thing. But convincing herself? A totally different problem.

~•~

Instead of going to sleep as he was instructed, Leo found himself topside again. The sun was setting a beautiful peach orange color over the skyline of smoke. Teenagers roamed the streets, and he swore he caught April with a group of girls chatting animatedly about something. He smiled, happy she was having fun and some resemblance of a normal, mutant free life.

He felt like a lousy leader. Hell, a lousy brother. Sneaking out like a kid, over some girl? A gorgeous mutant girl...but still. Without even telling his own brothers, let alone father where he was going.

There was that annoying feeling. Guilt. But...he was making the right choice. By getting his siblings involved, it would only lead to trouble.

"Leonardo..." That sultry voice cooed from behind.

"Nova." He gasped, releasing his katanas back in their holders.

"Sorry I'm late, my darling. My sleep schedule has been quite difficult."

He cringed. "Don't call me that. But, it's okay."

She curled her muscular tail around his waist comfortably. "My apologies." She slithered beside him, golden eyes meeting his ocean blue ones. His heart rate increased.

Changing the subject, he smiled easily. "Have you reconsidered my offer?"

"I have. My hunger has been satisfied for now, but that won't last long."

"What have you been eating?" Leo looked at her wearily, afraid of the answer.

"Shh...that isn't important." Lifting his chin gently with her claws, he melted at the touch.

"If you say so." Leo hugged his knees, then grazed her gnarled scales, admiring their shimmering form. Her claws brushed against him casually and he winced.

"Sorry, I didn't mean-"

"It's...okay. It didn't hurt. I promise." They were faint. Surely no one would notice.

Relaxing, she nuzzled him. "Good."

Her eyes were big, wide. The moon reflecting in her pupils made him move closer. Then he stopped.

"This is a bad idea." He said, taking his hand back. "I barely know you. Maybe...you should meet my family first? Or get to know each other? This is happening so fast I-"

"Soon." She vowed. "I trust you though. I think."

"I think so too." He uttered, soft lips pressing against hers. If this was wrong, why did he feel so right? Why did he feel so shaky, yet so bubbly inside.

This was one of his worst decisions. Why wasn't he stopping? He didn't know her. He didn't-

"It's a pretty good bad idea, isn't it though?" She smirked, stealing another tender kiss.

All he had to do was say no. That he couldn't put his family in danger.

Just say no.

Don't make the same mistake.

But he didn't want to.

"God yes."

~•~

His head felt foggy and tired, he hadn't gotten any closer to convincing Nova to stay but...he was alright. Leo hadn't had a chance to retreat to his bedroom before he was cornered by his taller brother. He hid his grimace with a forced grin.

"Donnie, I don't have time for this. I've got..."

"This'll only take a minute."

"Alright. What's up?"

"Did you really have trouble sleeping last night?" He asked, then jumped to a stronger conclusion. "Or...did you not go to sleep at all?"

"Don't be stupid, Don, of course I went to bed." Leo said. "I just..." He raised his left arm casually, and his younger brother once again caught the scars littering. Worse, they looked fresh.

"Your arms..."

Leo flinched away. "It's nothing."

His dark eyes narrowed.

"Donnie?"

"You're lying, aren't you?"

"I don't know what you're talking about." Leo brushed him off, but Donnie wasn't about to give up. He grabbed a hold of his forearm, pulling him back, though Leo was unaffected by the sudden jerk of movement.

"What happened to your arm?" Donnie demanded bluntly. "And tell me the truth this time."

"Donnie, I'm really tired. I...just want to meditate for a spell. We can talk later." He hadn't meant to sound dismissive, but his tired tone and increasing frustration made it seem that way.

"How much longer are you going to keep avoiding us all, Leonardo?" Donnie asked weakly.

Leo hastily moved his arm out of the way. The hostile motion made Donnie recoil. "I'm not."

"You keep shutting us all out. We aren't naive. We know you're stressed, but we're a family. We can help. Don't you see? First with Karai, now..."

"This is nothing like Karai." Leo blurted out. "Nova isn't like her." When Donnie looked confused, he elaborated. "That's her name. The mutant."

"She did that to you." He said, referring to his injured arms. The dots were slowly connecting.

Silence. "Not on purpose."

"You told me you were going back to bed. You promised! And you went out and tried to fight that dangerous mutant alone? Are you crazy?"

"I was trying to protect you!" Leo snapped, temper rising, though his voice still felt oddly robotic. "It wasn't done out of a whim. I didn't try to find her for fun. I was protecting you and the others."

"By lying to us? Your family?"

"Fighting her was not an option. I wanted to persuade her to join our side. She wasn't too dangerous, just scared. And I didn't lie, I did go to bed. Just not when you did."

"Do the others know?" He was mainly referring to Raph, who he knew would be as furious as he was. Maybe even more so. Mikey would have been heartbroken had he knew that Leo was going behind their backs.

"No."

"Why? We could have gone together."

The thought of Donnie watching Leo and Nova's last encounter made him blush profusely in horror.

"If we had gone as a group, it would have ended horribly. I needed to talk to her alone. I think..." He paused. "I think she's starting to trust me." His cheeks felt suddenly hot. He didn't want his brother to know that he had been out again, though this time with no moral intentions involved. The less Donnie knew, the better.

"Trust you?" Donnie repeated in disbelief. "You barely know her."

"You barely know her." Leo retorted. "You haven't even seen her. What could you possibly know?"

Those careless words set Donnie's rage into flames. "I know that you're my brother and she's hurt you, quite obviously!" Furious tears filled his eyes. "If you just listened to me- if we had a chance to go as a team, maybe she would have joined us. Willingly!" He took a deep breath. "I know what it's like to care about someone." His mind brought up sweet April, then the smirk of Casey Jones. "But it's so risky to do this. You've got to think logically. You're the leader."

Regret was hidden in his deep blue eyes, but he masked it with a scowl. "I didn't ask for this burden, to be lectured. Logic- inventions, all your science-y bullshit won't help us now. So stay out of my way. I know what I'm doing." The tone of his voice, mixed with his expressions were jarring and cold. Unlike the older, wiser brother Donatello had grown to admire as a hero.

Stunned and hurt by the harsh tone, Donnie blinked, taking a step back, as if he feared him.

Leo's eyes widened, immediately realizing his mistake. "Wait, Donnie I didn't mean-"

"Fine."

"Please, just let me-"

But as his older brother had done so many times before, Donnie dismissed his desperate pleas, stormed by him as the words flooded out of his ear slits and away from his mind.

~•~

The second Donnie climbed out of the manhole cover, he realized he had no idea where he was going. He knew the city by heart, sure, but he was never one to go topside for emotional reasons. Usually he locked himself in his lab. Now...he didn't know what to do or where to go. Each direction felt wrong. And the increasing feeling of wrongness calculated by the feeling of dread equaled an equation he didn't quite understand.

"I don't even know where to go..." He groaned. "I'm such an idiot." Wiping his tears, adjusting his staff, he kept walking the unknown direction, hoping to find an answer.

School had to be out, since the stars were already dotting the sky. Maybe he could swing by April's...

No, she was still living at the lair. How could he have forgotten? And he doubted her aunt would be thrilled to see a six foot tall turtle standing in front of her. That would only leave...

He stopped, looking at the cluster of apartment complexes. It would be risky, but he couldn't imagine going anywhere else. As he climbed the fire escape with ease, he had already made his decision.

As much as he longed for April's hugs or comforting words, he knew Jones was the best bet. So he carefully used his bō to tap lightly on the window, while still remaining hidden.

It swung open, and there was Casey Jones. Handsome, cocky, hair even messier than usual without its iconic black and white bandana holding it in place. He seemed ready to go to bed as he was dressed in a tank top and pajama bottoms.

"The fuck?" He rubbed his eyes. "Donnie?"

"Hey there Jones." He mused, awkwardly rubbing his neck. "Is ...this a bad time?" He couldn't tell if Jones was simply tired or had been crying, since his eyes appeared too red and dusty.

"Nah, Riley's in bed." He confirmed. "Asleep."

"And your parents?"

Casey waved him off. "Hang on a sec," and he swung over the window to the metal fire escape. Climbing up the spare ladder casually, he glanced back at Donnie. "This place is more private." He was now perched on the roof, smirking. "You comin' or d'ya need an invitation?"

Donnie joined him, sitting on the ledge with their legs hanging over. "Is everything okay?"

"It's...fine, I guess." He chewed at his lip moodily. "Well not really. It's family bullshit."

He huffed a laugh. "Boy, do I know how that feels."

"I'm assuming you didn't just come here to chat. Something happen?"

Donnie nodded meekly.

"Hey, you don't need to tell me." Casey stared at his calloused hands. "I guess I can tell you what's been going on." He picked up a stone, flicking it across the roof. It fell loudly into a dumpster. Donnie winced. "My dad is a huge dick." He stated bluntly. "But it's complicated. Normally I'd talk with Raph about this but..."

"You don't have to..."

"Nah, it's chill. Here's the Cliff Notes version of it. Basically my dad decided to drop this major bomb on me n' Ri. That he proposed to Sara. His girlfriend." He made a vomit noise. "And I can't believe it."

"Is she not nice?" Donnie wondered.

"She's okay, I guess. No, but they haven't been dating that long and- I can't believe he decided to replace Riley's mom like that."

"Riley's mom? But you..."

"She's only my half sister. My real mom died forever ago. He was cheating on my mom with Riley's mom- Grace. He's a mess. It's all a mess."

"What happened to Grace?"

"Divorced her. Like I said, he's a dick." He looked back wearily. "Sorry, I know that was a lot. I'm not good at...dealing with my feelings but I shouldn't have dumped that on you with no warning."

"No, please don't apologize. I understand."

"Cool. So...your turn."

"My turn?"

"I just dramatically revealed my trauma. That shit doesn't come for free, yo. And I know you came here for a reason. So what is it? Because I think we're at that stage where we can talk about it. Whatever it is."

The purple masked turtle hesitated.

"There's only so many Electric Skullz albums we can talk about..."

Donnie took a deep breath, finally settling on revealing his troubles. "It was just an argument."

"With Raph?"

"No, Leo. He's been acting so strange lately. With the new mutant and everything. I think he likes her. As in, having feelings for her. I swear, this is a Karai situation all over again." He frowned. "And then we started yelling and..." Head in his hands, he groaned. "It's troubling. He's been acting so distant and it's making me so ..."

Casey waited a moment for Donnie to find the word.

"Peeved."

"So, what you're saying is: it's all a mess."

Donnie laughed. "It sure is, Jones." Their shoulders bumped together. "Thanks for letting me vent."

"Hey, no worries. You let me rant, it's only fair. But I do know one thing for sure, families are complicated as fuck."

"Here here. But um, why did you bring me here again?" Donnie cocked his head to one side.

Casey stood up, hands on his hips. "Come on."

Donnie followed suit, raising a curious eyebrow. "And?"

"Start yelling."

"What?"

"Start. Yelling. It ain't rocket science. You're pissed off, I'm pissed off, so let it out! Go nuts!"

"But it's night out."

"This is the city that never sleeps, genius. Look, I'll do it first."

He let out a loud, ear splitting bellow from above, hands spread out and wind hitting his cheeks. When he finished, he turned to Donnie eagerly.

"Go on."

Donnie exhaled. "If you say so..." And with that, he too joined in with the screaming. At first, it felt silly but then it surprisingly felt therapeutic. As if he was letting out his pent up frustrations with life.

"How'd that feel?" Casey moved closer to him until they were inches apart.

"It felt...good." Donnie admitted. "And you're sure no one can hear us?"

"Pshaw." Casey said smugly. "Anyone who does hear us will think we're a couple of drunks. I got ya, D." He took his hand in his, squeezing it. The difference between their hands- one large, green with three fingers. The other pale, smaller, five perfectly normal fingers. Casey didn't seem to mind.

"It doesn't solve our problems though." Donnie said.

"No, but it releases a little tension. I've done this with my friends a lot from the hockey team whenever we lose. Which rarely happens, but on that off chance we do? We scream. Fuck the system!"

"You ...consider me like one of your human friends?"

Casey's hazel eyes squinted back at him, as if he was confused by the question. "Of course. Why wouldn't you be? We're friends."

"But I'm..."

"Don't." Casey stopped him, pressing a finger to his lips. "I don't say this to just anyone, okay? But you're a cool dude, Donnie. And the smartest guy I know."

Donnie swallowed. "Jones I..."

"You're perfect the way you are, you hear me? Don't go moping around. It's a little sad to watch." He punched his shoulder affectionately. "Alright?" He looked back into Donnie's mahogany eyes.

"Alright." He nodded, now fully aware how close they were. He stopped himself from staring too hard at Casey's individual freckles, dotting his cheeks like a galaxy of stars. Or his deep hazel eyes, or his perfect peach lips...

An embrace felt too forward, so Donnie simply smiled, revealing his adorable gap. Casey's heart warmed, loving every time he saw that smile. He wasn't lying. He thought Donnie was beautiful in his own way. Turtle or not. As beautiful as April, maybe but in a different way. He wanted to stay the entire night, watching the stars with him.

"I promised Mikey I'd hang with him." Donnie remembered.

"Oh," His eyes looked down, disappointed. "I can walk you there? It's getting kinda late."

"Sure."

"Listen, um, Donnie...there's something you gotta know..."

There was a rustling noise behind them. Donnie froze. "Shut up."

"Excuse me? Did you just tell Casey Jones to shut up?"

"Shut up!" He hissed. "Someone's listening. You idiot, we shouldn't have been screaming our heads off!"

Casey mumbled a curse under his breath.

"Ah, so you are the clever one. Good to know." An unfamiliar voice snarled.

"Who said that?" Casey yelled, grabbing his trusty hockey stick and taser. Donnie gripped his own bō tightly.

"How cute."

Out of the shadows approached the two boys. A mutant reptile at least twenty feet in length with massive yellow eyes staring them down.

"Jones?"

"Yeah, Donnie?"

"I think we found the mutant."

#tmnt 2012 #jonatello #fanfics #female ocs #oof

22 notes · View notes

witharsenicsauce · 4 years

Text

Chosen Stories From the War #27: The House That Death Forgot, Part 3

(Content warning: this chapter contains descriptions of blood/gore, death, and mentions of suicide)

The night never seemed to come. It was like the sun hung over the hills in a perpetual state of anxiety, never settling, never closing it’s glaring eye. The Chosen and their human compatriots sat in the office, a feeling of morose trepidation overtaking them: time passed, on and on, and yet seemed to sit so very still.

Zhang was flipping through the books on the shelves and the papers on the desk, on a hunt for something, perhaps something to tell him there was a way out of this nightmare. Malinalli was, once again, tending to Kon-Mai’s injured leg, despite the Shrinemaiden insisting it was unnecessary. It seemed her brothers were meditating, and even though the Darkstrider had never been one to proactive his psionics before, this time he had joined his brother, perhaps in the hope that it would get them an answer. Any answer.

Kon-Mai looked up at Zhang as he angrily closed the book he held, tossing it on the desk. He pinched the bridge of his nose and sat beside her, hesitating a bit to calm himself enough to hold a conversation “...How is your leg?” He finally asked.

“I feel no pain from it.” She assured him. “Though our medic insists I do not walk on it, anyhow.”

“Just because it doesn’t hurt doesn’t mean you aren't damaging it!” Malinalli snapped. She had been irritable since returning from her conversation with Ya’uq, and everyone had been keeping to her instructions to avoid incurring the wrath of this 5’5 force of nature.

“I know.” Kon-Mai looked Zhang up and down, leaning closer to whisper. “That girl...”

Zhang sighed, absently thumbing through the pages of the old book in his hand. “That girl?”

“The one who attacked my brother and I.” She said. “You knew her before?”

Zhang had retold them the story he had told Annette and Bryni, his eyes sorrowful as he did. There had not been much to say at the time, but they had all been left with questions they did not know how to ask. “Yes.” He sighed. “The year was 1959. We kept the children with us through December, and returned her and her siblings at the beginning of 1960. What a way to start the decade.”

Something else was weighing on Kon-Mai’s mind though. “...Then you are incredibly old, Colonel Zhang.”

He looked up at her with an almost blank expression. “...And?”

“And yet you fight like a man in his prime.” She shifted so her good leg was under her like a cushion. “Impressive for someone who is at least…” She did the math in her head. “At least 97.”

“99.” He grumbled. “...I am very old, I know.”

“How?” She asked.

“The Grace of the Elder’s Gifts.” He turned to look at her. “You hardly age either, Kon-Mai: they had to test that process somewhere.”

Kon-Mai didn’t know what to say to that, but thankfully, she didn’t need to think long. Annette stood up, a book in hand. “Chilong, you can read Tagalog, you said?”

“I speak better than I read.” He got to his feet. “But I can read it alright.”

She handed the book to him; a spiral bound notebook with a blue butterfly pattern on the front. “The dates are labeled between the years of 1960-62.”

“Frilly notebook.” Gur-Rai opened his eyes and got to his feet. “I don’t want to needlessly gender, but do you think-”

“It could be Bulan’s?” Annette nodded. “If Chilong can translate, we’ll find that out.”

Zhang looked away, and Kon-Mai could see there were tears in his eyes. “I don’t know if I can.” He said, and they knew that it had nothing to do with the language.

“Colonel, I know ya feel bad.” Bryni said. “But if that girl’s as old as ya say, maybe she knew what was happenin’. People don’t just stay young n’ pretty forever for no reason.”

“We still need to get out of here.” Gur-Rai said. “It sucks that she died, but it’s going to suck a lot more if we all die with her.”

Annette flipped open the first page, and pushed the book toward Zhang, who reluctantly took a seat on the floor and cleared his throat.

She closed the door to the attic quietly. She had not had to remain so silent in a long time, but now she could feel him, and he could feel her.

Or had it always been so? She had felt reprieve when he was locked away in the cellar. Behind the thick stone walls it was hard for him to invade her mind, but because of that reprieve, she had become sloppy. When Bulan closed her eyes, she was there with him, looking through his purple gaze. She could feel him pressing against her eye sockets, looking through her eyes into her world. Coming. She heard his thoughts. I am coming. I am here for you.

What do you want?

Not want.

Bulan had tried to imagine death once before, and what consumed his mind felt just like that, so empty and horrifying, nothing and everything, blackness surrounding them.

Death. Death.

“January 27th, 1960.” Zhang read aloud. “Father has built another gate around our property. He’s thinking of sealing up the secret entrance, but the cook uses it to bring in deliveries. He still doesn’t know I like to sneak out into the garden at night.”

“Pretty mundane so far.” Annette said. “Like a...normal girl.”

“Mother said the new baby is going to be a girl.” Zhang continued. “I’m already tired from the other little ones, I wish she would practice some restraint. She just told me when I get married, I’ll understand.” He turned the page. “February 3rd, 1960.”

“Kon-Mai’s birthday!” Gur-Rai winked.

Zhang shot him a look. “School rules apply here, no talking while I’m talking.”

Gur-Rai crossed his arms.

“Father’s been in a lot of meeting’s recently. He won’t tell us the subject matter like he used to. It doesn’t make his activities any less illegal if he stops talking about them. It just makes it so we live in darkness. February 14th, 1960. I spent time in the garden with Ali and Isanagi. My brothers have a talent for making flowers grow and Isanagi in particular has palms that are very green.”

“Palms that are green?” Malinalli chimed in.

“I believe you’d know it as having a green thumb.” Zhang clarified, and then kept on reading. “March-”

“Why don’t you just skip until you find something interesting?” Gur-Rai cut in once again.

Zhang glared at him. “This is interesting to me.”

“Yes, but does it help us?” Even so, he leaned his elbow on his knee as though to get comfortable.

Zhang ignored him, but even so he flipped though a good amount of pages. “March 2nd, 1962. There have been amazing meteor showers all this month. Mother said we aren’t allowed to stay up late, but last night I snuck the little ones outside to watch it. I am glad I did so, because last night was particularly beautiful, and the meteors that fell were the size of stars themselves. I even felt one hit the earth. The very ground trembled.”

Kon-Mai scooted closer. “A meteor shower is never so common on Earth.”

“...March 5th, 1962. The gardener saw something...strange. A creature, he said. It must have been a monkey of some kind, because it was as small as a child but walked upright on two legs. Mother thinks it may be an orphan from the nearby city coming to rummage in our scraps. When we told my father, he panicked and locked up the entire house, said no one goes in or out. We tried to tell him he is paranoid but he says he will not risk his family again. We are so privileged he would ignore a starving child? I’m going to go out tonight with some food. There is no doubt I can help.”

Zhang hesitated, and turned the book so the others could see what was written next. The entry was scrawled hastily, as though in a panic.

“Not a child. Not a child. It’s not even human. It’s skin is grey and it’s eyes, it’s eyes...” He trailed off. “That’s where that one ends.”

“A creature the size of a child, with grey skin…” Kon-Mai looked between Annette and Zhang, who were nodding.

“Sectoids. Or at least, that was what they used to look like.” Annette looked deeply troubled. “But this is from 1962. The invasion happened in 2015.”

“Our invasion happened in 2015.” Gur-Rai clarified. He did not elaborate, but they could all tell what he was implying.

Zhang kept on reading. “March 6th. I told Mother and Father about what I saw, and Father has confined me to my room for the rest of the week. Mother believes what I saw was a mangalo. Father has been on the phone with the company who installed our gates, he thinks it’s someone else who has come to steal us away again. I don’t know what I think it was. I don’t know what I’d rather it be.

March 15th. Mother and Father are fighting more and more often. Mother wants to rehire some of the old security guards but Father refuses, says they’ll sell us out just like last time. He keeps the doors locked and the windows covered. I can hear the creatures outside, skittering in the bushes. Last night I heard tapping on my window as I slept. I didn’t look, I was too scared.”

Kon-Mai sighed. “That poor child.”

“April 8th. Father has taken to staying up all night. He walks the halls like a ghost, shining his flashlight out the windows at the slightest shadow. I can feel a heaviness in the air. The days have been dark. When I looked out the crack in my window, there was something glowing purple outside.

April 23rd. Marikit is ill, she came down with a fever last night. No other symptoms, her nose is not stuffy but she is wheezing. I have noticed I have had slight trouble breathing as well. Father is up day and night; he says there’s a tall man outside, waiting to snatch us away. Mother is pleading with him to let us out, if only just to take the baby to a doctor, but he yells at her: he says the evil men have returned to kill us, and he isn’t going to let that happen.

May 1st. No one has gone in or out in months. The phones don’t work anymore, and Father is insistent that that means they cut the lines. Marikit keeps getting worse and worse, and now Laarni and Ali are sick as well. Mother has locked the door to the bedroom and won’t open it, I can hear her crying day and night. Tonight I looked out the window and I saw him. The tall man.”

“I’m gonna guess the tall man is our wrinkly friend.” Gur-Rai added.

“I reckon.” Bryni nodded in agreement. Her voice was soft and sad.

“...May 7th, 1962. Father took his gun and went to kill the tall man. He said he wouldn't let anyone hurt us ever again. I begged him not to.” Zhang paused, scanning over the journal’s blank lines. “May 8th. I found Father’s shotgun on the front porch. The door was wide open. My head is heavy and my throat is burning. Mother won’t open the door. All the little ones are sick…” He stopped, his face twisting into a look of horror.

“Zhang?” Annette reached out and put a hand on his shoulder. “What is it?’

“...May 8th. I’m sorry little ones. I hope we meet again…” He ran his hand along the lines of text. “...May 9th. I put the shotgun in my mouth and pulled the trigger. I felt my skull being ripped apart. I felt myself fading. And then I awoke again.”

There was a collective gasp from the room, and everyone held that shock for just a moment. Zhang continued.

“I tried again, this time pointing at my heart. My chest exploded and I couldn’t breathe, and then I could once again.”

Kon-Mai got to her feet, her face pale. “She has already died once before.”

“I am in Hell.” Zhang’s voice shook as he read. “Damned to live in suffering and agony for all eternity, trapped within this house that death forgot.”

Maybe they could have helped, Bulan thought.

It was a stupid thought. They were just as trapped as her. Most of them even stank of the same psionic power that Ya’uq smelled of. They reeked of the sulfur and metal that filled her senses when she tried to take her own life. Even if they stood a chance to hurt him, and she knew for a fact they couldn’t, no one could. Except for her.

She picked up her shotgun and closed her eyes. I know you can hear me.

She speaks. Ya’uq seemed to chuckle, tickling the deep regions of her mind. You speak to me, child.

I sealed you away once before. I can do it again.

No. No more hiding. No more rotting away. Like the moon steals the sun’s light, your life is already mine.

Silence hung in the air for a moment. Then, Zhang dropped the book and let out a noise, somewhat between a laugh and a cry.

“She can’t die.” He whispered, his head in his hands. “She can’t die.”

“Then she’s still in this house somewhere.” Annette sounded afraid and was already reaching for her pistol.

Zhang stood. “No. No, not again. We have to help her this time, if she has been trapped here since 1962…” He clenched his fists. “Taymallat, I did this to her.”

“Zhang, don’t be ridiculous.” Annette insisted. “You didn’t send the Elder here. You didn’t trap her.”

“No, but I was the reason her father locked them away, why he didn’t hire armed guards that could, maybe, have helped them. Instead he tried to fight what was essentially God with a shotgun.”

“Hey, a shotgun can do wonders on the right god.” Gur-Rai winked. “I should know.”

“Well it wasn’t enough.” Zhang snapped. “She’s all alone in here, I destroyed her life once. I have to save her.”

“And in doing so, perhaps we will save ourselves.” Kon-Mai added. “We must locate the girl. She is the secret to unlocking this cursed place.”

“Yeah.” Gur-Rai jabbed at the door. “But to do that we gotta risk running into old wrinkly out there.”

“Perhaps...” Dhar-Mon finally spoke up, taking a deep breath as he broke his trance. The flecks of purple psionic energy that rained around him spun and disappeared like petals in the wind. “Or perhaps we can call her to us.”

“You think she’ll listen?” Bryni asked.

“It needs to be someone she’d trust.” Annette said. “Chilong, she knows you.”

“She hates me.” He crossed his arms. “No trust there.”

Malinalli folded her arms. “I could give it a shot.” She said. “I have the psionics.”

“You’re not even from the same country.” Annette said. “And I don’t suppose you speak Tagalog?”

Malinalli looked away, seeming to blush in humiliation. There was a collective silence all around.

“I’ll do it.” Bryni finally chirped.

“You? She doesn’t know you at all!”

“Yeah, but I ain’t got no glowy power, and I’m 100% home grown.” She gave them a small, two fingered salute. “Human to human, woman to woman? I betcha I can get her to talk.”

Annette and Zhang exchanged glances, and Kon-Mai nodded. “It is our best option, considering.”

“Righty-ho.” Bryni plopped down beside Dhar-Mon. “What do I do, Big Guy.”

Dhar-Mon rolled his eyes and held out his hands. “Do not do anything. Completely clear your mind, and let me guide you.”

“That won’t be hard.” Bryni giggled and tapped her head. “There ain’t much up there ta begin with.”

To Bryni, this felt kind of like her first time flying. She had no control over where she went, hurdling over the dips and bobs in the air, incapable of managing the way her body reacted to the sheer excitement. Except her body wasn’t even there, which was pretty good because she would have spewed the remains of her last lunch.

Her vision was a swirl of purple light and deep, cold darkness, a void so encompassing that if she looked too close, it threatened to swallow her. She rode the waves, keeping her mind blank like Dhar-Mon had told her to, until suddenly it felt as though she were being squeezed, like the walls were pressing in around her. She took a gasping breath of air, and suddenly-

She was in another room, at the end of a long, dark hallway. At the other end, she recognized the young woman from before, her long black hair coving the bloodstains on her once white blouse. Her back was to Bryni as she peeked around another corner.

“Um…” Bryni cleared her throat. “Howdy!”

Bulan jumped, pointing her gun at Bryni. She wasn’t sure if a bullet would hurt her in this form, but she put her hands up nonetheless.

“Woah there!” She tried to speak calmly. “Settle down, girl. I ain’t here to hurt ya.”

“Ikaw ang babae.” Bulan said. “Sa pangunahing bulwagan.”

“Um…” Bryni was already running into a problem. “I...don’t speak Tagalog.”

Bulan looked irritated, but instead of firing, she bit the inside of her lip and lowered her gun. She seemed to be thinking.

“You...don’t speak English?”

Bulan knew enough to shake her head to that.

“Psionics can’t do the translating, can they?” Bryni half-heartedly chuckled. “...Guess not.”

Bulan took a step towards her. “...Paano...hay...del español?”

“You know Spanish?” Bryni perked up. “No, wait, not me, my...um...mi amiga!” Bryni said excitedly. “Oh god, I had about a year of this and it was in elementary school.” She waved her hands wildly. “Mi amiga speak español!”

Bulan couldn’t help but giggle at that, especially when Bryni made a talking motion with her hand. “Um...dónde?”

“We’re...uh…” Bryni looked around. “...We’re in an office.”

Bulan shook her head. Even if she knew what Bryni meant, she had no idea which room she was referring to. Bryni tried to chew her thumbnail before remembering she was essentially a projection at the moment. Hmm...

“C’mere.” Bryni gestured for her to come closer. “I wanna show ya.”

Bulan looked hesitant.

“Por favor?”

The girl hesitated, then took a few steps toward Bryni, close enough so that the pilot could reach out and put one finger against Bulan’s forehead.

She imagined herself walking through the halls, from the room they thought Bulan had died in, to the maze off halls. Left, another left, right, through a door…

Bulan pulled away, but when Bryni looked up at her, her face was glowing with a smile. “Ang silid ng pagguhit!” She picked up her shotgun. “Alam ko ang lugar na iyon! Kikitain kita!”

“Hold up!” Bryni called after her as Bulan took off down the hall. “Uh...I’ll see you there?” She looked up as though she were talking to God. “Okay Big Man. Pull me out.”

Same rush, same feeling of bobbing up and down, and suddenly she felt solid again, the floor underneath her and people around her.

Bryni opened her eyes and gave a thumbs up. “Looks like she’s headed our way.”

“Hopefully she isn’t stopped by that demon outside.” Dhar-Mon got to his feet. “What did she say?”

“Nothin’ I could understand.” Bryni shrugged. “But-”

There was a thud, then a rabid banging noise against the door, and the group looked around warily.

“That oughta be her.” Bryni said.

In any case, Gur-Rai and Annette still cocked their guns as Kon-Mai walked over, put one hand against the door, and pulled it open.

He wondered why even after all these years, he had never managed to free himself of this mortal coil. He had never shed this dying body and finally ascended.

Ya’uq felt his old, old body breaking down around him. Even as his psionics held everything in place, even as he slowed time to an agonizing crawl, he could feel milliseconds slipping through his fingers. Milliseconds of precious consciousness that he could not afford to lose.

Do not go gently into that dark night. He would rage against the dying of the light.

Bulan Kepa pushed past her and stepped inside, looking around, sneering at Zhang. She looked around warily at the others before her eyes settled on Bryni. “Kaibigan mo?”

Bryni gestured to Malinalli, who waved hesitantly, looking very confused. “Um…?”

“She said she speaks a little Spanish!” Bryni cut in. “So I said to talk to ya.”

“Oh!” Malinalli looked pleased. “Oh, yeah, I can definitely translate!”

Zhang crossed his arms and said nothing.

Bulan stepped forward, still unsure about the people surrounding her. “Tu...la amiga?”

“Sí, también soy la oficial médica.” Malinalli had to physically stop herself from speaking so fast, as the poor girl didn’t seem to have a good handle on the language. “Si tiene alguna herida, puedo tratarla.”

“Oficial...médica?” Bulan’s face seemed to light up. “Maaari kang makatulong? Puede...usted ayudar?”

Malinalli nodded and began to reach for her tools, but Bulan stopped her.

“Hindi ako, hindi ako. No *me ayudas.” She was practically bouncing as she began pulling Malinalli towards the door.

“No.” Dhar-Mon stepped in front of her. “Where are you taking her?”

“Ilipat, por favor!” Bulan seemed to be shaking. “Ang mga maliliit!”

“The little ones.” Zhang said, finally fed up with the guessing and the shaking and the state of confusion everyone was in. “She has four siblings, Malinalli, and I assume she wants you to see them.”

Malinalli looked at Bulan. “Tus hermanos?”

Bulan nodded, pointing out the door. “Por favor.” She cried. “Please.”

They could hear Ya’uq still dragging himself along the halls. As they passed the second floor balcony, now partially destroyed, they heard him muttering to himself down in the foyer and saw hints of his sporadic purple glow. Kon-Mai reached for her brothers’ hands, either for her own protection or theirs.

Zhang hesitated before they lost sight of him, and for a moment he could tell Ya’uq sensed him. The Elder reached out with his mind, and while Zhang blocked his advance, the demon pried one thing from the black depths.

Gone. Ya’uq reeled back. The others are gone.

Zhang turned and followed the group back up to the attic.

The door was the only thing at the top of a flight of stairs, isolated from the main house yet still accessible enough to be a logical place for children to sleep. Bulan led the way, turning to Malinalli, who looked confused.

“...Realmente puedes...ayuda?” Bulan asked.

Malinalli hesitated, unsure if she should give the answer she usually did. Nothing was certain on the battlefield and in here it was even less so. But Bulan still had her gun.

She nodded.

Bulan opened the door, and right away they were hit with the smell of rot. Most of them cringed, and Gur-Rai actually had to turn away, covering his face as though he would vomit if he could.

Malinalli, unfazed by the smell, stepped inside. She had seen the worst of the worst in bootcamp, but as she saw what was causing this stench, even this made her gasp.

The first thing she saw was the baby: practically an infant, still in her crib. Or, rather, it appeared to be what remained of an infant, her skeletal body only barely keeping hold of her dry skin. She looked around, the beds growing in size, each one holding a child more emaciated than the last, all of them nearly dead…

“What happened?!” She cried, before she took a breath, putting her profession face back on. “Qué les pasó a las niños?”

“Nagkasakit sila nang lumitaw ang manglo.” She answered in Tagalog, pausing for a moment.

“She says they fell ill when the mangalo...the Sectoids first arrived.” Zhang translated for her.

Bulan pointed her gun at him, and he held up his hands. Dhar-Mon stepped between the two. “There is no need for that. We are not your enemy.”

Bulan seemed shaken, her eyes still trapped on Zhang’s face. “...Matanda ka.” Lowering her gun, she took a fistful of her own, black hair, staring at it. “......Ano ang itsura ko?”

“How old do you look? Young.” Zhang answered in English at first, not thinking. “You look young. Ang parehong edad noong nakilala kita.”

She lowered her rifle as Malinalli turned back to her. “These children are…” She began. “They should be dead...ellos deberían estar muertos.”

Bulan shook her head. “No...Ellos viven. Ellos respiran.”

“Yes but…” She put a hand on her chest. “My chest...my body is filled with moisture. Mi cuerpo esta lleno de humedad.” She knelt down beside the bed where the second eldest, Diwata, lay, and put a hand on her chest. “Her blood pressure is zero. Su presión arterial es cero. No hay sangre para bombear. No hay vida.”

Bulan shook her head once again. “No!”

“Bulan.” Zhang said. “When Ya’uq came here, what did he do to you? Ano ang ginawa sa iyo ni Ya'uq?”

She refused to answer, power walking over to her siblings once again. “Mentirosa!” She spat at Malinalli. “Salvarlos a todos!”

“I’m trying!” Malinalli cried.

“Bulan, we must know what Ya’uq’s part in this is.” Dhar-Mon stepped forward. “If he is behind the state of your siblings, then we must know.”

“Hindi ko alam kung paano niya ito ginagawa!” Bulan let out a sob.

“She doesn’t know how…” Zhang raised a brow. “...But you know it’s him? Ya’uq?”

Bulan nodded.

“Then we remove him.” Kon-Mai reached for her sword. “If we eliminate the demon, then he shall release the children’s souls.”

“Hindi mo siya papatayin.” Bulan looked up with purple fire glowing in her eyes.

“She says we can’t kill him.” Zhang said. “Bakit?”

“Dahil pinipigilan niya ang oras na lumipat.” She said.

“He keeps time from passing…?” Zhang’s eyes grew wide. “Kon-Mai.”

“Yes?”

“Your leg still doesn’t hurt, does it.?”

“No…” She blinked. “...And it should, by now.”

“He has done something to affect the flow of time.” Dhar-Mon exclaimed. “I did not know psionics could. But why…?”

“He’s doing something to them.” Zhang spat. “He’s feeding off of them, draining their life force, but at the end of all of it he slows down time, so much it’s practically stopped.”

“To keep them from actually dying.” Annette whispered. “This way, the family never dies.”

Zhang looked at Bulan once again, his eyes harsher than they had been. “You look fine. Better than fine. Kaya bakit hindi ka sakit?”

Her eyes glowing purple still, Bulan turned her back on him refusing to answer what sounded like an accusation. She turned back to Malinalli, leaning on her gun carelessly. “Quiero...mis hermanos sanados.”

Malinalli took a breath. “I can’t…” She shook her head. “No puedo curarlas. Even if we went back to the Avenger, they’d surely die in transport-”

Bulan cocked her gun at her and pulled the trigger. The bullet whizzed past Malinalli’s face, and Dhar-Mon pulled her into his arms and held up his hand: purple energy, rivaling Bulan’s, glowing in his palm.

“We are trying to HELP YOU!” He spat. “If you harm her, you will face the wrath of TWO DEMONS TONIGHT!”

“Brother, stop!” Kon-Mai cried.

“Sige at subukan! Hindi mo siya papatayin!” She bared her teeth.

“There must be a way to kill him, Bulan.” Zhang stepped forward, his hands up.

She let out the breath she seemed to be holding, letting her gun arm drop, and nodded. “Nasaktan ko si Ya'uq. Sa harap.”

“You hurt him?” Zhang gasped.

She nodded, then let down her gun for a moment. She hesitated, reaching back to undo the ribbon cinching her shirt at her waist.

The crew gathered in closer, curious as to what she was about to reveal. She let drop the ribbon, turned and lifted her shirt to reveal a gaping hole, pulsating and empty, nearly revealing her spine. There was no blood, but they could easily see the meat within.

“That looks like it hurts!” Bryni cried.

“One can...grow accustomed to pain.” Kon-Mai said quietly. “Vox Ya’uq did this?”

“No.” She said, her voice sounding almost sad. “Nang ikinulong ko siya, binaril ko siya sa likuran…”

“...And your wound comes from a shotgun...” Zhang said softly. “Your wounds appear on him. And his on you.”

“But that means y’all can hurt each other!” Bryni cried. “Y’all can die! Maybe if you...” She trailed off, realizing what that meant.

“Anong taon?” Bulan’s question cut her off. “Que año es? Ahora?”

Zhang bit his lip, swallowing. “...The year?” He sighed. “2040.”

Bulan let out a soft chuckle, stepping slowly into the middle of the room. “Kung gayon. Ano ang punto?” She sat down, cross legged, on the floor of the bedroom. “Everything I love...dead...or here.”

Gur-Rai looked up as he heard someone approaching from the stairs. His position of leaning against the wall was slightly uncomfortable, but he didn’t want to sit, in case he had to spring back up into action again.

He saw his sister coming down the stairs, limping slightly on her broken leg, and he took that chance, jumping up and going to help her. “So?”

She sighed. “There is much to consider.”

“Oh really?”

She nodded, settling on the last stair and letting her leg rest. “Vox Ya’uq can be killed.”

“...And?” He raised a brow. “That’s a good thing, yet you sound like you’re disappointed.”

“He can only be killed by Bulan herself.” She elaborated. “My striking off his hand slowed him down, but according to Malinalli he has already regrown the limb. And Bulan has survived a shot to the neck…”

Gur-Rai pursed his lips. “So I’m guessing that’s why she can’t die either.”

“The two are…” She sighed. “It is a more powerful psionic link than I’ve ever seen. They are effectively immortal. The only wounds that remain are those that are dealt at the hand of the other.”

“So why doesn’t she just kill him?” He asked. “And he’s been wandering this place for ages, why hasn’t he killed her?”

“His presence is what is keeping her dying siblings alive…” Kon-Mai’s voice cracked a bit and she cleared her throat.

“Alive? I can smell the mold from down here.” He shuddered.

“That is the children.”

“Great.” Gur-Rai hugged himself. “And she doesn’t see how keeping them alive is cruel and unusual?”

Kon-Mai hesitated at that. “...I would like to walk for a bit.”

“Your leg-”

“Is in no more danger of breaking than before.” She said as she stood. “I need to get away from that place. It’s making me ill.”

They made their way down the empty hall, watching for the Elder. They could feel him, his aura similar to the elders they knew and “loved”, but it felt much older. It faded in and out like a receding tide.

The hallway felt like it was endless, and the silence felt like it was crushing. Kon-Mai stopped short and Gur-Rai looked up at the door they had just stopped in front of. That same smell of rot was coming from behind it, and he swore he heard whispering.

“...Didn’t that diary say her mom locked herself in her room?”

Kon-Mai nodded. The two exchanged nervous glances and stepped forward, reaching for each other first, then the handle of the door.

Negotiating was useless.

They had all piled out into the hall when it became clear that Bulan was no longer listening to their attempts at bargaining. She had effectively shut down at this point, refusing to respond to anyone unless it was in relation to one of the dying children.

“We can’t leave.” Annette repeated for the tenth time. “That...thing, he’s keeping us here.”

“...Do you think we’ll end up like them?” Malinalli asked. “If the children began wasting away when Ya’uq arrived, who’s to say this isn’t his plan? Trap people in here, suck them dry, leave them like that for all eternity.”

“The Elders…” Dhar-Mon’s voice was unusually quiet. “The Elders were always talking about the great void beyond death, how it was a demise to be feared. Who is to say Ya’uq is not also seeking some sort of eternal life?”

“Well that’s right comforting.” Bryni put a hand on her hip, playing with her gun. “Look, the Elders ain’t immortal, and Little Miss Death comes for everybody. I say we take our guns and go at the fucker with everything we got.”

They all turned and stared at Bryni like she had finally snapped. “That’s a terrible idea.” Annette deadpanned.

“It’s the only idea.” Bryni retorted. “Unless you wanna go back in there and convince Bulan to die for us.”

“They have to kill each other.” Dhar-Mon rubbed his temples. “And when one dies…”

“Yep.” Bryni looked away. “Ain’t that how it goes?”

Gur-Rai and Kon-Mai came jogging back down the hall, their faces pale-or as pale as they could seem with already blue skin.

“Are you two alright?!” Dhar-Mon cried, pushing past the group and running to his younger siblings. “Do not run off where I cannot see you! You could get hurt!”

“We’re not children, Brother.” Kon-Mai grumbled, leaning against the wall. “We must prepare some kind of strike against Ya’uq. We cannot stay here.”

“We were just discussing that.” Malinalli said. “I agree we should at least try...better than sitting here to rot.”

There was collective silence all around. And then…

Annette sighed. “Let’s try and get some rest first. Then, we fight God.”

“I’d say he’s the Devil.” Gur-Rai shrugged. “But let the theologians debate that.”

Even the night had a strange brightness hanging over it, the sun refusing to fully, properly descend into the horizon. The group had settled in a nearby room, the remains of what looked like was one of the children's bedrooms.

Crammed into the tight space, the Chosen cuddled up to each other. Kon-Mai lay in the center of both of her brothers’ embraces, while Dhar-Mon wrapped his large body as best he could around the both of his siblings. Gur-Rai slept with his head on his sister’s stomach, using her like a pillow, his only sense sense of comfort in this terrifying place.

The only one not asleep was Zhang. Quietly, he slipped from the room and into the hallway, up the stairs, and to the door that was now locked. Bulan had all but barricaded herself inside, but he could feel her.

“Bulan.” He whispered, his voice scratchy.

At first she didn’t answer, but he heard her shift.

“You don’t have to speak.” He said in Tagalog. “Just listen. I know this was all because of me. The Triad should never have brought you or your siblings into what was your father’s business, and in doing so we all but ruined your chance at a normal life.” He took a breath. “I’m so sorry.”

Silence. Then, movement. He felt the door shift just a bit.

“If anyone deserves to be trapped here, it is me.” Zhang continued. “You should be the one who goes free.”

He heard her whimper.

“But please.” He hissed. “I know you love your siblings. You must know that this isn't fair to them. It’s not fair to keep them trapped like this-”

“You kept us trapped.” She growled. “You kept us like this for months. We got to see the sun once a day. I thought you were going to sell my sisters and I into slavery!”

Zhang stood in silence, tears burning his eyes.

“You have no right to tell me what they deserve, old man.” She growled. “You’re just as bad as Ya’uq.”

“...You’re right.” He said quietly. “In that case, the people here cannot leave unless you help them. If not for your siblings-”

Bulan let out a yelping laugh. “Them?! I don’t know any of them!” She spat. “Why should I die for them?!”

“They’re good people!”

“Like you?” She hissed. “There are no good people. There are only those who survive and those who don’t. And we are still alive.” she sounded hesitant for just a moment. “...Please go. If you stay, fine. But don’t expect mercy from me.”

Zhang pulled away from the door, his heart heavy. There would be no winning this battle. They could not even die.

The sun was still not up by the time they woke, but it hung on the horizon and cast a shadow over what remained of the day. It felt as though no time had passed at all.

The Hieromonk woke first, a chilling feeling in his bones as his siblings stirred beside him. They would have to hunt tonight, and he knew this as he shook his brother gently: this was what he was born for after all.

Gur-Rai vaguely swatted at him. “Mmmmn go away.”

“No, Brother. We must wake up.” He shook Kon-Mai at the same time, whispering to her. “How is your leg?”

“Fine.” She said quietly. “Is it time?”

“It’s as good a time as any.” Annette said as she got to her feet, clearly having been awake for hours. “So what now? How do we plan to lure him out?”

“I shall take care of that.” Zhang said.

“Do you want to die very rapidly?” Annette raised a brow. “Because if so that’s clearly the best tactical decision.”

“Nobody can die in this house.” Zhang assured her.

“That doesn't help.” Annette insisted. “Please don’t get hurt.”

He nodded, but the look on his face was empty and sad.

The rest of the party began to stir, Malinalli sitting up against the wall. Her curly hair was a matted, tangled mess, falling out of what remained of her braid, and her eyes looked tired and haunted. She began opening up some rations they brought, but no one took any. No one felt like eating, either from the magic, or the intense feeling of dread.

They went out into the foyer, minding the broken bits of wood, and pushed open the heavy door. Kon-Mai was looking around, her ears picking up every single sound. Gur-Rai was facing behind them, his eagle eyes scanning the room. Dhar-Mon pulled his hammer from his back and stepped forward, out into the garden.

They shifted into the open space of the yard, the glowing flowers reaching out from their stems towards them. They heard a quiet noise behind them, akin to static, and smelled sulfur and rot.

Zhang took a deep breath in and let it out, his eyes glowing. “He is upon us.”

Bulan stared at the window as she saw Ya’uq’s distinct purple glow begin to move through the house towards them. They were doomed. Even if death never came to this place, he would beat them within an inch of their lives and drain them dry. They had no chance to do him any harm.

She looked to her siblings, still confined to their beds. Diwata looked lucid this morning, and she was staring at Bulan, her eyes expectant. As though she were waiting. She always had been the smart one.

Bulan scoffed and shook her head. Even if she helped them, they would still lose. And her family, her happiness, hinged on staying right here. Avoiding Diwata’s piercing eyes, she turned on her heel, leaving the attic and stepping into the dark, musty hallway. The door at the end was open, just a crack. Barely enough to tell someone had gone inside but just enough to know…

“Nanay?” She called out to her mother, and heard a soft sound of movement. Bulan jogged, that jog turned into a sprint as she raced down the hall, eagerly awaiting the warm embrace of her…

She did not scream at the sight of her mother. She could not muster a scream, the sound was stuck in her throat at the shock that awaited her. She could only gaze blankly at the sight of her mother hanging by her neck, from the ceiling that should have rotted years ago but didn’t.

The woman moved, the rotting frames creaking as the rope swung just a bit, and Bulan’s poor mother reached out, her wrinkled hand longing for her daughter’s touch.

Instead of going to her, Bulan looked down at the gun in her hand, and thought of how desperately she wanted to end this suffering. She sank to her knees, the floor underneath her covered in dust that seemed to cover her like a blanket.

This was not fair. Not to them. Not to her. Not to the people trapped here. Not to the little ones. Not to her mother.

The battle did not begin in their favor.

Ya’uq emerged from the darkness of the front door, dragging himself out with his gnarled hands. The group scattered, Kon-Mai drawing her sword and cloaking herself, disappearing into the wind. Dhar-Mon held his hammer but also conjured up his own psionic energy. Gur-Rai grappled to a nearby tree, Malinalli dove for cover, and the rest drew their guns.

They were not here to play games. Zhang gave the order. “Shoot to kill!”

Ya’uq rose up to his full height, raised his arms, and made a sound that suddenly cut across the minds of everyone listening. It felt like a needle piercing the brain. Kon-Mai involuntarily dropped her cloak, and Gur-Rai collapsed from the tree branch he had stood on.

“Live. Live. You all live.” Ya’uq whispered desperately. “I see the void. I cannot die. Don’t let me die.”

Dhar-Mon, recovering from the psionic blow the quickest, tried to rush Ya’uq and did, in fact, manage to swing and slam his hammer into the creature’s hip. For a moment, it seemed as though the wound would stay.

Then with a crunch, Ya’uq’s hip righted itself. The Elder gazed down at Dhar-Mon, purple eyes glowing, and as he raised his arms, Dhar-Mon felt the same stinging pain in his head he’d felt when Bhandasura had nearly killed him. He tried to duck away but collapsed, blood dripping from his nose.

Malinalli screamed and rushed over, throwing herself over the much larger man and right into the path of the Elder. Zhang called out for her, and Annette broke formation and rushed Ya’uq. What her plan was, no one would know, because Ya’uq swatted her aside like she weighed nothing. She across the yard, her back hitting the greenhouse and cracking the glass, nearly shattering it.

Kon-Mai rushed forward toward the beast, but though her leg did work it was still a sore point, and it slowed her down enough that Ya’uq got the jump on her. She swung and, like always, the blade hit it’s target, but Ya’uq seemed to not even notice it, and instead he grabbed the Chosen woman by her braids and slammed her head into the ground, leaving her dazed.

Zhang fired, again and again, but if he was hitting this creature (and he honestly wasn’t sure if he was), then his bullets were doing less than nothing. The Chosen themselves couldn’t bring this thing down. There really was no winning…

Then he heard it. The footsteps.

Bulan stepped from the house, practically glowing in the low light. Ya’uq turned his gaze on her, his eyes wide.

Their eyes met, as though they were having an entire conversation without speaking. For a moment, it looked as though they had known each other their entire lives. This was the reunion of old friends.

Bulan said nothing as she pointed her shotgun forward, and Ya’uq roared and charged her, trying to stop her.

As the first hit tore into Ya’uq, splitting the Elder’s chest open in a shower of purple ichor, so too did a stain of red splatter on Bulan’s shirt. She cried out, stopping briefly, long enough for Ya’uq to sweep her away with his hand, causing her to drop her gun as she fell to the side. She got back to her feet, holding her now very injured chest and struggling to breathe. He would never deal the killing blow, but she saw him grab for her again and slid out of the way, only just missing his grabbing hands.

Ya’uq let out a roar that shook the very foundations of the house, bringing down some of the intricate baroque stonework. Those who were standing fell to their knees, and those already on the ground tried to cover their heads. Bulan frantically searched for her shotgun but it had disappeared into the aether.

“Hey.” A gravely voice hissed, and Gur-Rai tapped the ground near her. He was laying in the bushes under the tree, and she looked over, their eyes meeting. With a toothy grin, he pulled his machete from his belt and tossed it to her. “Use that.”

She looked down at the machete, smiled, and nodded at him. Getting back to her feet, she took a breath and charged, not daring to waste a second.

The first swipe cut so deep into Ya’uq’s hip it sent him tumbling to the ground on his knees. Bulan too faltered, but she miraculously kept her footing despite the blinding pain. Unyielding, she did not think, she simply swung at him, cutting across his eyes. Her scream was almost as loud as his, but she was undeterred, even though her vision was quite literally nothing but red.

Ya’uq reached out for her one last time, and it looked almost like he was begging. One last word. Please.

One fell swoop. As he bent over, Bulan shoved the blade into Ya’uq’s skull, cracking it wide open. He screamed, the air around him turning to static and pain. Purple light flashed from him for only a moment before his body curled in on itself, limbs bending like a dead spider as he spasmed, then with one last whimper, fell still

Bulan stood tall and triumphant for just a moment, as the darkness in the sky began to lift away. The sun hit her face, the warmth and the light…

Then she fell backwards into the dust. Zhang ran to where Bulan was collapsed, the darkness surrounding them lessening with every step. As he reached her, he saw her chest rising and falling, but his relief was short lived when he saw the blood trickling down her face, and the gaping, bloody wound in her own skull.

“Shaojie…” She hissed, but it was not malicious.

“Nandito ako.” He knelt beside her. “I am so, so sorry. You should not have had to do this.”

She whimpered, closing her bloody eyes as best she could. “The little ones. Are they okay?”

Zhang looked around at his team, each of them beginning to clamber to their feet. Gur-Rai, no doubt coming over to get his sword back, knelt down a foot or so from Bulan, his face grave. Kon-Mai was still curled on the ground, wheezing from pain, but Malinalli and Dhar-Mon were already up and attending to her.

Zhang nodded, sinking to his knees as Annette ran over to them. “They’re okay now, Bulan.”

She closed her eyes, tears mixing with the blood. She clasped her hands over the wound in her chest, and he saw her trembling.

“It’s okay…” He said quietly, and Annette stepped closer to her and knelt at the girl’s head, wiping the tears and blood from her face.

“Nanay…” Bulan sniffled. “Nasaan ang nanay ko?” Her eyes were flickering.

Annette took hold of one of her hands, Zhang the other, and in her last breaths, Bulan began to sing.

“Ili-ili tulog anay,

Wala diri imong nanay…”

Her voice faltered, once, and the last lyrics were said in what was barely a whisper. “Kadto tienda bakal papay.

Ili-ili tulog anay.”

They laid Bulan in one of the attic beds, alongside her siblings, her eyes closed peacefully as though she were asleep. The blankets pulled up around her made it seem so: she was simply sleeping, and at the end of this nightmare, she would wake up.

Maybe one day she would, Zhang thought as he closed the door for the last time. He descended the stairs, the empty mansion whispering to him as he did. He felt lighter somehow, as though being here had lifted an old weight he still suffered with.

Kon-Mai’s leg was throbbing so much just thinking made her want to scream, so Dhar-Mon was charged with carrying her back to the Skyranger. He had been worried for Gur-Rai after his fall, but his brother insisted that all he had were a few scratches. “Nothing like what our poor sister went through.”

“And nothing like that poor girl…” Kon-Mai retorted, her voice weak and tired. “We should create a memorial for her in the Avenger.”

“Her and her siblings.” Dhar-Mon sighed. “She fulfilled her duty to her family. She saved them.”

“What duty, Brother?” Gur-Rai raised a brow.

“The eldest sibling must protect the younger.” He said. “It is why I protect you.”

“Hey now.” Gur-Rai gently punched him in the arm. “Don’t go imprisoning an ancient god to keep me alive, you hear me?”

“Brother.” Kon-Mai insisted. “I would never wish for you to suffer that fate. We all protect each other.” She smiled. “If one of us falls, would the others not be lost?”

The rest of the exhausted party followed them back down the dirt path, through the trees to the very dusty and slightly sunbleached Skyranger. Bryni kicked open the cockpit and lowered the ramp. “WHOOEE! Poor baby ain’t been cleaned in days!” She laughed. “Well come on everyone! Don’t dilly dally!”

“I must confess, even if it led to this, I’m happy you sent that distress signal.” Zhang admitted to Annette when they entered.

“I suppose I am glad to be out of that wretched place.” Annette nodded. “Thank you, for me and for Bulan.”

“I am thankful we could help her.” Zhang sighed. “...If we truly did.”

“She and her siblings are resting now.” Annette assured him. “We did what we could.”

“I know.” He looked up, watching the Darkstrider cleaning his blade. “And thank you, Darkstrider.”

“Hm?” He looked up. “Hey, Bulan did the hard work. I just lent her the machete.” He twirled it in his hand. “Funny, it doesn’t seem right just calling it that.”

“It doesn’t have a name?” Annette raised a brow.

Zhang buckled his seatbelt. “You know. Bulan’s name...it means moon.” He said quietly. “A symbol of change, and of the passage of time.”

Inside the house, so quiet and still, as the dust began to settle and the light finally began to fade, a door closed upstairs.

The figure of a girl moved through the house, slowly at first, then with the enthusiasm of a child, sprinting freely though the halls. Abandoning her ripped blue skirt, she had donned a pair of slacks from her own father’s closet, and one of her mother’s fine blouses.

She ran out into the garden, sunlight and wind and air, real fresh air, washing over her face. For only a moment she stopped, not wasting a second. She stooped and picked up that old shotgun, her Ol’ Reliable.

She knew he was still out there, but now she knew she could win, and if push came to shove, well, Shaojie did owe her a favor~

In the year 2040, at the young, bright age of 97, Bulan Kepa threw open the gates, and stepped out into the world.

Summary: The party, confined to their hiding spot, begins searching through the papers on the desk for more information about Bulan and her family. Zhang, frustrated, takes a break to talk with Kon-Mai; as it turns out, Zhang is 99 years old thanks to the Elders’ gifts. Later, Annette finds Bulan’s diary from 1962, and it is revealed there was a Sectoid invasion around their home, made worse by her father’s paranoia. It is also revealed that although Bulan attempted suicide, she is unable to die. Using Dhar-Mon’s power, Bryni finds and converses with Bulan, and gets her to agree to meet with them. Upon meeting Malinalli, Bulan takes them to the room her sick siblings are resting in, and asks if Malinalli can fix them. However, the children are so far gone, Malinalli cannot treat them, and it is discovered Ya’uq has been draining them of energy to keep himself alive. Bulan refuses to fight Ya’uq, despite being the only one who can wound him, as doing so would kill her in the process. The group attempts to confront Ya’uq themselves, but he quickly overpowers them, and they are unable to wound him in the slightest. When all seems lost, Bulan realizes her family is suffering and joins the battle, at first being struck down by Ya’uq, but upon acquiring Gur-Rai’s machete, she is able to land a decisive blow, killing him. Zhang runs to her, apologizing to Bulan as she dies, but she simply asks him if her siblings are safe. After assuring her they are, Bulan dies with a lullaby on her lips. The gang returns to the Skyranger, where Zhang reflects on the fact that Bulan’s name symbolizes change and the passage of time.

(And so concludes the spooky saga. I think this one was hard to write because I so desperately wanted it to come out good, and just didn’t believe I was able to do it. I think, however, this did come out pretty decently, and wrapping this up, tying in the lore especially, was extremely fun!

Edit: You may notice there is an afterward that wasn’t there before. Yes! I was sitting on it all day and something felt very...wrong about Bulan’s death at the end, especially with things being how they are. So, I’ve added this epilogue per se. You’ll be seeing her again.)

Archive: https://chosenstories.tumblr.com/

#xcom #xcom 2 #xcom war of the chosen #xcom au #haunted house #cw gore #cw suicide

7 notes · View notes

andersoncharm · 4 years

Text

If There Ever Was a Perfect Couple, This One Qualifies//Seblaine.

Para: If There Ever Was a Perfect Couple, This One Qualifies

Rating: PG.

Pairing: Seblaine.

When: Sunday, April 5, 2020. Early evening.

Location: Sebastian's Cambridge Apartment.

Notes: An evening in with Seblaine.

Warnings: Pineapple on pizza. Also, Blaine still can’t stop thinking of futures and weddings..

Blaine’s POV:

Blaine hummed lightly to himself as he cut up little pieces of ham for the homemade pizza he was making for his and Sebastian's dinner. Normally it was bacon and onion for Seb but, his boyfriend was insistent that Blaine make them his favorite for once. He had to admit as he popped a fresh piece of pineapple into his mouth that he wasn’t upset by this idea. He absently threw a piece of the freshly cut ham to Ras who gobbled it up, but left Blaine alone after that with the promise of more later. Then Blaine even offered Freya a little chunk of pineapple. She sniffed it, turned up her nose giving him a distasteful look but, as soon as Blaine dropped it to the hardwood floor she snatched it up and sauntered away, disappearing out to the balcony patio. Because of course she wouldn’t want to eat the fruit out his hand.

He was so focused on saucing the pizza crust with his own homemade version of BBQ that he jumped a little when long slender fingers reached over and snatched a piece of ham followed by a chunk of the pineapple.

“Hey, hey. Stop that, Seb. You’ll ruin your dinner!” He laughed pushing Seb’s hand away playfully, looking up at his freshly showered boyfriend's signature smirk as he popped the two pieces of food into his mouth. His light brown hair, still wet and swept back so that Blaine could see the mischievous smirk in all its glory. And his stomach did the same little flip it always did in times like this when he was reminded that he got to love this man for the rest of his life, no matter how short that may be. The little butterflies that stirred whenever Seb was around started to flutter when he let himself think of a future like this. Maybe one where they both wore silver rings on their heart fingers and got to call themselves Mister and Mister. He sighed and mentally shook his head. Damn Sam for putting that freaking idea into his head. He hadn’t been able to stop thinking about it since last weekend’s Skype call. He made sure to give Sam some hell when they spoke on the phone a few days ago.

“It’ll taste much better once it’s all done, you know.” He rolled his eyes and went back to his cooking, trying not to focus too much on Sebastian's so that he could get his thoughts in check. He’d probably fail.

Sebastian’s POV:

Sebastian’s week had been a little hectic. He had been in the office everyday, going over court records and interviews, sitting in with the client his team was working with for a big case their professor was on. When Sebastian had won one of the coveted intern spots, Blaine had clapped and sang “So Much Better” from the Legally Blonde musical before covering his face and hands in kisses. Seb had smiled for days when he would think of the memory.

Unfortunately, it wasn’t as fun or effortless as Elle Woods made it seem, he was just an irritating mix of tired yet over caffeinated. It had been two weeks and Seb and the team of interns weren’t finding any new leads. The professor they were supporting was getting more and more aggravated every day. Seb had actually been asked to leave earlier in the week because of his attitude. God, if his dad found out he was going to get fucking reemed. Sebastian was great at law school and had awesome grades and an intimidating reputation but, he was just...exhausted.

Blaine coming over to cook a fresh pizza was a welcome respite from the piles of documents and the harsh blue glow of laptop screens and the trite moaning of Harvard law students. He took a hot shower, scrubbed his skin with a body elixir that Blaine had made for when he was stressed. The scent of ink and stale coffee fell from his skin and was replaced by notes of chamomile tea and fresh french lavender. He threw on an old Lacrosse tee shirt and some grey sweats before he followed the smell of pineapple to the kitchen. Sebastian could see Blaine working hard on the meal. It was a nice scene, he looked serene and in place. He popped a few of the ingredients into his mouth and giggled.

“My dinner won’t be ruined. I’m starving. I haven’t had much besides crappy coffee lately.” Sebastian sneaked one more chunk of pineapple with a little laugh before he threw it up and caught it in his mouth. “This looks great, by the way.” He hopped up so that he was sitting on the counter opposite of his boyfriend and the ingredients. “How’re things? Feel like I’ve been stupidly busy lately.”

Blaine’s POV:

“Thanks, Seb. It’s not too fancy, but, I personally can’t wait to eat either.” Blaine sighed as he listened to Sebastian’s words of being busy and turned to put the rather incredible looking pizza into the preheated oven. He was pretty proud of this one, he had to admit. He closed the oven door and opened the refrigerator to retrieve two beers, one for him and one for Sebastian. They were fancy IPA’s that had some extreme name like Harpoon Leviathan and Blaine had to laugh to himself as he opened the tops of both and made his way over to Sebastian. He pressed himself into the space between Sebastian’s long legs and handed one of the IPA’s to his boyfriend and took a swig of his own, the coldness soothing as he swallowed. He tipped up onto toes and pressed a kiss to Seb’s lips before settling back down and leaning into Seb. His guy smelled like relaxation and it made Blaine smile that he was using his concoctions.

“You have been. But, you’ve done great things lately and should be so proud of yourself. I know, it’s all discouraging right now but, think of what you’ve done as a win, yeah?” He smiled and pressed his head into Sebastian’s chest.

He could feel the exhaustion rolling off of the taller man in waves and wished for a moment that Sebastian was a little bit more open with Blaine using more magic on him. Sure, he allowed tonics and elixirs and enhanced tea sometimes. But, there was a slim chance that he’d let him brew something stronger to help him sleep or that he’d let him use healing magic from his hands at all. He didn’t need to be physically hurt to do that, mentally exhausted would be grounds for some healing but Seb was stubborn and still a little nervous when it came to magic. Blaine couldn’t blame him. He tried anyway.

“You should let me heal you tonight.” He mumbled into Seb’s chest. His beer clutched in his hand, pressed against his own chest. “It would help with your whole attitude and refresh you. I promise I won’t hurt you, you know that, right?”

Sebastian’s POV:

Sebastian kissed his boyfriend, took a swig from the beer and inspected the label. It was slightly sweet and carmelly on the back of his tongue. “I know I’m doing well,” He ran his fingers up and down Blaine’s spine as he talked. “It’s just that point in the year where everything sort of swells.” Sebastian shrugged his shoulders and took another drink. “I’m sure your lessons are just as intense.”

Seb ran a hand through his hair and stretched his back a little bit. He wasn’t scared that Blaine’s magic would hurt him, that wasn’t the problem. He was worried that he’d get attached and want to be healed or relaxed or wound up all of the time, that he would rely on the magic like a drug. Sebastian knew enough about himself to know that he had an addictive streak. He partied a lot when he was younger and made a lot of questionable decisions when he was living in Paris. “B, I know that you wouldn’t hurt me. I mean, I rarely even take Tylenol. Just coffee and the occasional cigarette for me. Sometimes we drink, obviously.” Sebastian really didn’t drink as much as he used to, he didn’t need to go out and party anymore. The two of them had even slowed down a bit from when they first got together and Sebastian was a nervous wreck who wanted to impress.

He shrugged his shoulders, chewed on his bottom lip and felt his cheeks redden with the slight heat of embarrassment. “I don’t want to make things all serious. I appreciate the offer, I always do. Just make me some tea before bed.” He cleared his throat and took another drink, the sweet taste a little more bitter now. “Tell me something new going on with you. There’s gotta be something witchy and interesting happening.”

Blaine’s POV:

Blaine shrugged, sure, he was busy. His father had taken to teaching him about cursed artifacts and Blaine was constantly in fear that he’d bring some curse home with him unknowingly. Lucky for him he was pretty intuitive and could usually sense something off. Plus, he was a good student, he paid attention even when he wanted to be playing music or anything else. He wasn’t really into the darker parts of magic. But, he knew he needed to pay attention. He needed to know how to fight the bad things off if they came for him or anyone he loved. He looked pointedly at Sebastian. “Sure, but it’s nothing you want to know about, trust me.”

Blaine could practically see the internal struggle as his boyfriend contemplated his offer. He knew he was going to say no, could feel it even as he offered it. But, he felt he needed to try. Sebastian worked so hard for everything and here Blaine was with a way to relax him and keep him sane. He wasn’t supposed to, of course, magic was for witches and potions and elixirs were for their human hunters who needed it from all the nightmares they were forced to see while in the field. He remembered Hunter’s fondness for Nightmare Stealing Sleeping Draughts. But it wasn’t for “normal” humans like Sebastian. But, Seb was Blaine’s and Blaine would do anything to keep him comfortable and safe. He chewed on his lip as he listened to him talk.

Blaine sat his beer next to Seb’s thigh and reached up and cupped Seb’s heated cheeks and gave him a comforting soft smile. “Sure, Seb. You know I’d never use it on you without your consent again unless something were seriously wrong.” Blaine could count on one hand the number of times he’d used magic on Sebastian without asking first in the last year and a half. Seb knew about them now and was good with it, but they made Blaine’s stomach drop thinking about them. The worst was their first night together Blaine had made Sebastian stay asleep so Sebastian wouldn’t wake up as he tried to cut him out of his life, and it had happened once on a date in public when Seb’s anxieties had taken over. And once more with some magical pomegranate that had led to a pretty intense and sexual night. The latter two weren’t so bothersome as Blaine mostly was calming the room where they were in one, and Sebastian had told him he ‘really enjoyed’ the night of the magical pomegranate. However, the first night still bothered him a little. He cleared his throat and tried not to think about it.

“Just know that the offer is there if you ever change your mind. And know that I wouldn’t overdo it. I just want you to be happy and comfortable. Tea it is. I’ll make sure to use my best batch of chamomile tonight.” He gave a grin trying to ease Sebastian’s apparent embarrassment before reaching and taking another swig of the sweet beer. He could stay in this position forever, the scent of sweet pizza and the pressure of Sebastian's legs resting beside him. His arms loosely around Sebastian. Forever reminded him of his conversation with Sam which reminded him that he did, in fact, have something to talk to Seb about.

“Oh! Yes, I do have something going on. Not really witchy or anything but, remember how I told you my Skype with Sam was useless?” He blushed involuntarily thinking about marriage and children and Sam’s teasing him about Seb. “Like, he couldn’t decide on a date or anything? Well, he called me on the phone yesterday and he’s picked a date finally. He’ll be in Ohio for Halloween to spend time with his family and then he'll be here in Boston the second week of November. He’d only be around a week and half so, we’ll still get to go to your mom’s for Thanksgiving.” He smiled, a little excited at the thought of Sam getting to meet Seb and wondering what Sebastian would make of his eccentric best friend. “I’ve missed him so much the last few years, I have to admit I’m excited. You're either gonna love him or think he’s the weirdest person ever. Maybe a mix.”

Sebastian's POV:

“I know, B. I trust you. Not to sound cliche but, honestly, it’s not you. It’s me.” Sebastian gave a small smile and leaned in to give Blaine a kiss. “I’m perfectly fine with tea. I’ve grown a little fond of it, actually.” He finished his beer and set the glass bottle down on the counter beside his thigh. “Oh? He finally made a decision? That’s great. He’s uh, getting a hotel right?” Sebastian arched an eyebrow. The apartment was his, sure, but, Blaine basically lived there. He didn’t want any strangers getting the wrong idea. Seb didn’t even want Hunter spending the night as much as he did. He was very particular about his space. “No cowboy boots under my couch, no thank you.”

He cleared his throat and waved his hands, god he probably sounded so fucking rude. “Oh, yeah, I know you’ve missed him!” Sebastian already had a feeling he was going to find Sam a little hard to handle. He seemed like the living embodiment of an untrained, hyper dog wrapped up in a package that looked like a golden, all-american Thunder god. “But, this is a DC household. Thor needs to stay somewhere else. Not that I think you’d do that without my input. I sound like a total douche, right now, don’t I?” Sebastian poked Blaine in the side. “I bet he and Hunter would get along great,though.”

Blaine’s POV:

Blaine let out a laugh and kissed Sebastian back. “Yeah, yeah. But, I do understand. Just remember what I said. Anytime. And if you ever want it, then I’ll never use it. Unless, you know, dire.” He grinned at the compliment, pleased that he could get the man that only ever drank coffee or iced tea to drink his special blends. He looked up when Seb asked if Sam was getting a hotel, the oven timer going off giving him the chance to tease his boyfriend a little for being mildly rude. He furrowed his brow a little exaggeratedly and turned to the oven before speaking. “Oh, I mean, I already told him he could stay with us that week. I mean, why would he waste all that money on a hotel when you have a perfectly good sectional right in the living room.” He paused for dramatics as he put the oven mitt on before pulling the pizza out. The sizzling cheese is the only sound in the kitchen. He turned to put it on a cooling pad on the counter and shot Seb a glance. His boyfriend seemed to be somewhere between shock and trying to figure out a way to tell Blaine he’d overstepped. He couldn’t really keep it up after that.

“Oh my gods, of course he’s getting a hotel, Seb. This is your house! I’m like the exception to the rule here. I know you don’t even like Hunter lounging around on the sofa, why would I invite my overly enthusiastic friend to sleep here without your permission.” He shook his head as he cut the pizza up. “No, Sam will be staying about five minutes away, silly.” He rolled his eyes, concentrating on cutting up the slices, still smiling to himself at Seb’s face. “You only sound a little douchey, but, hey, I get it and I still love you.” He kissed the tip of Seb’s nose for emphasis. “Of course I’d never do that. You know it, too.” He handed Sebastian his plate and grabbed both of their beers motioning for him to follow him to said sofa and tucked himself into the arm, his legs curled under him. Some true crime drama already queued up for the evening.

“For the record, my dear, know you love Diana Prince almost as much as you love me but, this is a Marvel house when I want it to be a Marvel house. Captain America is too important to me for you to take that away.” He winked, knowing that he probably loved Nightwing and Wonder Woman almost as much as Capt but, he liked the teasing anyway because Steve was his favorite. “Thor will be just fine at the Hotel.” He smiled and took a bite of his pizza, which was fantastic before reaching over and giving Seb’s thigh a little squeeze to show everything was in jest.

“I’m sure Sam and Buffy would actually get along pretty great now that you mention it. They’re both ridiculous.” he stated in response to Hunter. He grinned at his joke. He loved this, this feeling of contentedness. Once again, he found he could stay like this forever. He was utterly happy in this moment and his smile probably showed it. He reached out and took Seb’s hand in his, bringing it to his lips and placed a kiss against his knuckles. He grinned against his hand before gently putting it down in favor of the remote. “Eat your dinner, dear.”

Sebastian’s POV:

Sebastian raised his eyebrows and stared at Blaine for a minute. He knew he had to be joking. “Yeah, yeah.” He hopped off of the counter and followed the other man into the living room. “Well, I love you back. I’m weird about my space. You’re the only person that I don’t get annoyed with. That’s a pretty high honor.”

He settled into the couch and held on to his plate, the warmth from the pizza comforting against his cool skin. “We’re a house divided then. This must be how people who like different baseball teams feel.” Seb nudged Blaine’s arm playfully. “Buffy….he wishes. He will never have that level of style. God bless Sarah Michelle.” Sebastian smiled as Blaine gently kissed his hand. He chewed on his pizza and lifted one hand in faux praise in regards to Sarah. But really, Seb knew that Hunter worked insanely hard and was good at his job but couldn’t let himself get too mushy about his best friend. He was too tired for any more emotions that day. “This is awesome. Good job,B.” Sebastian kicked his legs up onto the coffee table and started his second slice as the dramatic opening music of their show filled the apartment.

/fin.

#if there ever was a perfect couple #seblaine #seblaine para #smythesm #para #seblaine witch rp

5 notes · View notes

rpsquad · 4 years

Text

115, 187, 189, 190 - “We need to leave. Now.”, “Nobody’s seen you in days.”, “I’m worried about you.”, “Can you shut up for once in your life?” - Christopher + Elam

January -

Elam watched his sister skid around on the ice, laughing gleefully. The snowflakes danced around them. Even he had to admit that the world seemed a bit brighter today. Or perhaps that was the smile on Sofie's face.

Elam turned as the grass crunched behind him. He looked up to see a boy about his age with brown hair and blue eyes standing over him. Elam recognized him as a boy living a few houses down, but he’d almost never seen him playing in the street with everyone else. He smiled up at him as two younger children ran past.

The boy sat down a few feet away, watching his younger siblings with a bored stare. His shoulders were hunched in and he sat with his knees to his chest. The boy visibly shook from the cold, but he looked like he was trying to not show it. Elam shuffled closer

“Hello,” he said, reaching a hand out like he’d seen the adults do “I don’t think we’ve met yet. I’m Elam.” The boy reducatly reached out a hand and shook Elam’s. His nose scrunched up “Mine’s Christopher.”

Christopher looked away, almost seeming shy “I suppose I don’t go out as much.” Christopher nodded to the others skating on the lake “Just don’t like playing around as much as them. Besides, it’s too cold this time of year.”

Elam wrapped an arm around Christopher’s shoulders. Christopher startled under his arm for a sec before leaning into Elam. He gave a half-hearted shrug “It’s not the worst. And they enjoy it at least.”

Christopher smiled “There is that.”

June -

Elam grinned at Christopher through the doorway “C'mon Chris. It’ll be fun.” Chistopher swatted at Elam “See, you’re a natural. Just do that as the other kids run away and down let yourself get hit.” Christopher seemed to settle on glaring Elam out of existence. Elam grabbed Christopher by the arm and pulled “Besides, I already got permission from your mum. So you’ve got no real reason not to. The sun’s shining, the wind’s nice, no responsibilities…”

Christopher scowled “Can you shut up for once in your life? I don’t-” Christopher stuttered as Elam looked at him with the biggest, saddest eyes he could manage. “I don’t have time for this…” he looked away, his frown lessening “But suppose if you went to the trouble to get permission from my mother…” he sighed “Fine, I’ll play with you.”

Elam grinned and pulled Christopher out into the street, already running “Hey-”

Christopher was wearing a scowl before he even opened the door fully “Elam, what is it?”

Elam gasped over dramatically “Christopher, you’re alright! Nobody’s seen you in days, we were all so worried!”

Christopher looked at Elam as if his soul had been sucked out of him “It was two days ago Elam. Remember, we all played together?”

Elam pouted “Exactly, a whole two days. And I’ve hardly even seen you since then, I miss you.” He looked at Christopher with eyes resembling those Bo gave him when begging for scraps.

“No,” Christopher closed his eyes “I have things to do.”

“Please?” Elam begged

“No.”

“Double please?”

“No.”

“Triple please?”

“No.”

Quadruple please?”

“N- ugh.” Christopher rolled his eyes and his body sagged “Fine, but this is the last time this week.” He turned around quickly “Oi! Mum..”

Christopher peered up at the sky with a small frown “I’m making a new rule: I’ll play outside twice a week. You’re sure you want to use it today?”

Elam just grinned “Positive. It matches you.”

Christopher scowled “Hey-”

Elam knocked on the door with his left hand, since his right was carefully holding the flowers. He heard rushed footsteps from behind it

“Just a-” Christopher opened the door, looking slightly frantic “Elam, hello. Is it alright if Lucy and Luke come along today? Mum won’t stop badgering me about it..”

“Well, I suppose they can?” Elam’s shoulder dropped slightly “It’s just, I wanted to do something else today. My father showed me this beautiful field and-”

Christopher’s eyes lit up “That sounds like the best idea you’ve ever had.” He rushed forward, pulling Elam along with him “Come on, if we hurry they won’t notice we left without them.”

October -

All Elam could think anymore was that if one more person told how brave his father had been, he might scream.

Elam’s father had been stupid, not brave. Who calls a man brave for dying defending his flock from a wolf? It had been one half starved wolf, not a pack. Elam had seen the body of the thing, it was practically skin and bones.

So no, his father was not brave, he was stupid. And now Elam was left with a grieving mother, two younger sisters, and flock of sheep to take care of at thirteen years old.

“Elam?” An uncharacteristically nervous voice cut through the fog “You haven’t been out in a few days, which is fine and I understand why, but I miss you and… I’m worried about you.” Elam looked up to see Christopher shuffling from foot to foot “Your, uh- your mom let me in.”

Elam nodded and scooted over on the bed to make room for Christopher “So, um... “ Christopher sat down. He looked very out of place, despite having been here before “I said I miss you, but more accurately everyone misses you Elam. Everyone’s really worried too, especially because everyone says you haven’t been, um…” Christopher glanced at Elam’s mouth, which only grimaced in response. “Right…”

“Well, I-” Christopher began. He looked like he was struggling “I’m sorry your dad died. I know you’ve probably heard it a lot already but I mean it. And I, uh. I wish it hadn’t happened, because it isn’t fair to you or the rest of your family. And it was stupid and unlucky and… yeah.” Christopher shrugged “So I’m sorry.”

Elam watched his friend with a sad smile. He scooted closer to him and wrapped his arms around Christopher awkwardly. Christopher startled under his touch but hugged Elam back. Elam buried his head in Christopher’s shoulder, feeling the start of a sob rise up in his chest.

“I’m sorry..” Christopher whispered again, running his hand up and down Elam’s back.

“Thank you.” Elam whispered back.

March -

Elam watched as the rain pounded on the glass with dull boredom. Christopher sniffled softly as he also looked out the window, his mind clearly somewhere else. Elam looked at his warily; Christopher had been sick with the flu just a few days ago.

“I wish it wouldn’t rain.” Christopher said, breaking the silence. Elam hummed “I understand why, that plants need water and without plants we’d all starve, but the rain just seems so sad and cold.” Christopher looked to Elam for a moment before continuing “I miss the sun because of that. The sunshine is warm and nice, and plants need it just much as they need water.” Elam looked down, knocking his feet together “And I worry about the plants, because with too much water they drown and die. I just-” Elam looked over at Christopher. His hands were fisted in his lap and his big blue eyes looked straight into Elam’s own “I can’t stand it Elam, you don’t have to act like nothing happened, like you are the sun and everything is fine, but I can’t watch drown!”

Elam blinked in surprise. He reached out and grabbed Christopher’s arm, pulling him forward into a hug “I’m sorry for worrying you.” he said quietly

Christopher’s arms came up and wrapped around Elam “I don’t blame you. I just want you to feel better. I miss hanging out and down fun things.”

Elam smiled into Christopher’s shoulder “You mean watching the rain fall isn’t fun?”

Christopher giggled “Elam, I love hanging out with you, but the rain really is just cold and miserable stuff.”

May -

“Baa!”

Christopher wrinkled his nose “Really, we just have to.. Just watch them all day?” he scoffed “But they don’t even do anything!” Christopher flopped back onto the grass.

Elam scoffed “We herd them back with Bo too.” Bo, hearing his name, woofed in agreement. Elam smiled and sat down next to Christopher “You don’t have to come with me.”

Christopher sighed forlornly “Well, I suppose not. But then you’ll be out here all day by yourself, and Avon knows you don’t need more time to just think” Elam shrugged and smiled “Besides, I’m getting a little old to play in the square now. Father says I should pick someone in town to apprentice under, since I’m useless at chopping wood.”

Elam frowned slightly, but nodded “He’s right.”

Christopher punched him lightly on the arm “Shut up. Not everyone can be all muscled like you.” he pressed his knuckles to Elam’s upper arm “It’s like you’re a rock…” he said softly.

Elam swatted his hand away, feeling odd “Whatever, Christopher.”

Christopher grumbled under his breath and looked up at the perfect sky, the light catching his eyes and turning them the color of flowing water, full of movement and life and so so blue.

Elam shook his head and looked up. It really was a perfect day.

April -

Elam stared at Christopher incredulously as he sat on the dewy grass and shook like a leaf in the wind “Christopher, what are you doing?”

Christopher shrugged. He pointed up at the one half dead tree above him “It looks like it might start raining soon. I’m taking cover.”

Elam just stared at Christopher, who was supposed to be smarter than this, before walking over to him and pulling him to his feet “This tree is half dead. And the grass is still wet, Christopher.” When Christopher just shrugged sheepishly in response, muttering something about not wanting to be any colder, Elam sighed and pulled him into a one armed hug. Elam rubbed his hand up and down Christopher’s arm, trying to make him warmer. Christopher leaned into Elam’s embrace, ready to take warmth from wherever it is being offered.

Christopher leaned into Elam a little more, causing him to fall backwards onto the grass with an ‘omf’. Christopher laughed, smiling down at Elam from where he had landed on Elam’s chest. Elam just sighed, pulling Christopher to him just a little more.

Christopher looked so happy like this, so full of life. It made Elam want to bundle him up and keep him forever, want to make him laugh all the time. It made him want to pull Christopher close so he was warm and then pull him even closer and-

Elam’s thoughts stuttered to a stop as he realized what he wanted. He wanted to kiss Christopher. He wanted Christopher to let Elam love him. Elam sat up quickly, knocking Christopher down in the process.

Christopher looked at him with a betrayed look in his eyes for a second before a raindrop landed on the tip of his nose. He scowled and sat up “We need to leave. Now.” looking completely serious and even more fed up with the weather.

Elam shrugged “Can’t. Have to watch the sheep.”

Christoper whined in response “But it’s raining Elam! You don’t want me to get a cold, do you?” he paused “Or the sheep! Really, it’d be best for the flock if we all head back now.”

Elam scoffed “They’ll be fine. It was one raindrop.” he looked up at the cloud covered sky “If you want to leave you may.”

Christopher pulled his knees up to his chest, clearly pouting while try to not be too obvious about it “Fine. If I get a cold because of this, I’m blaming you.”

Elam smiled placadingly “Whatever you say, Christopher.”

#cambrie wrote this #its 1:37am #ugh #this is just part one obviously #Christopher and Elam #pretty cute yeah?#the characterization felt a little odd #but i think its because they changed a lot #so yeah #also this christopher is a very different christopher #hes hardly had anything bad happen to him yet #just you wait #part two is gonna be yikes #but anyways #hope you enjoyed #tell me what you think of Elam #prompt #herorp

2 notes · View notes

loyalflutist · 5 years

Text

Fodlan Holy Grail War (Chapter 1)

Characters present: Edelgard, Dimitri, Claude, Hubert, Ferdinand, Petra, Dorothea, Bernadetta, Caspar, Linhardt, Ingrid, Felix, Sylvain, Dedue, Mercedes, Annette, Ashe, Leonie, Lorenz, Lysithea, Raphael, Ignatz, Hilda, Marianne, Rhea, Flayn, Seteth, Catherine, Hanneman, Manuela, Byleth Pairings: Felix x Annette, slight Hilda x Marianne, very slight Edelgard x f!Byleth (Edeleth)

A/N: So... this is a lengthy chapter... and I didn’t expect to become lengthy. Most of my old chapters in my old series range between 3k - 5k maximum. This? It was 6.8k+. It burnt me out, lol. However, I had fun sticking as many characters as I possibly can for the first chapter! Hope you all enjoy this. :) I had fun writing it.

Previous Chapter: Prologue Next Chapter: Chapter 1

----

“I hope my kid gets in.”

“He’s a commoner. You know they only enlist the richest of the rich.”

“Are you sure about that? There are some students who aren’t from nobility.”

“Yeah, but they have to have a Crest.”

“That’s wrong.”

“No, you’re wrong. They need to have the Crest.”

“My daughter will find a worthy partner!”

“You’ve got to be kidding me. Why not just marry her off to some rich noble?”

“My grandchildren’s future would be secured if they get in.”

“I can finally find a worthy opponent.”

“I’ll never get in…”

“Cheers!”

Commoners and nobilities mingled and exchanged powerful wishes and lamentations unto each other. Whether they spoke to those that wear their aromatic perfumes in large dosage or to those that wore nothing more than tattered rags, they chirped and frolicked like birds. It was as if a festival bloomed in all three nations simultaneously. Celebrations and haughty statements were tossed around like playthings. Anxiety and tears shed from the inevitable truths. Anticipations gnawed at their mangled souls.

Everyone knew what this month entails. Every five years, on the Guardian Moon (January), a letter from the archbishop would be sent to prospective students throughout the continent. Wings fluttered about over the population. Bells chimed in the background to signal the start of sunset. Stray feathers lazily descended upon the land from the orange sky. Children would squeal and leap, their hands outstretched to catch the pure object, the adults staring intently at the flock like predators. Many elders sunk to their knees, their clasped hands violently trembled, prayers muttered with incredible speed.

All for an invitation to Garreg Mach Monastery.

Its name easily rolls off from one’s tongue. Not more than 50 years had passed when the holy institution was instated as an academy for the continent, yet it managed to pridefully puff its chest. It is a prestigious academy so many yearned to attend. Only the best of the best was considered. After all, the monastery welcomed its gifted students with open arms for opportunities they would never get anywhere else. Future leaders and heroic warriors were products of the school’s program. Not a single student dropped out of each academic term. Everything must glisten in gold. Accepting mediocrity would sully their pristine image.

The Adrestian Empire, the Holy Kingdom of Faerghus, and the Leicester Alliance were invited to send over their best civilians. Letters were mailed out by white owls to potential candidates; details about the invitations and academic programs sunk its sweet tooth into their recipients.

“Looks like things are about to get serious,” the brown-haired grinned, his scroll crinkled in his grip. He glanced at the wide-eyed bird. Still smiling, he slid over to his right, his hand outstretched to the thin utensil. “It doesn’t hurt to spend five years in training.”

It was as if he had outlined his course of action down cold. Hesitation was never his middle name, anyway. Past the basked warmth of his private quarters, into the corridor, Hilda peered from the corner like a Peeping Tom. Hark, she was not the only person guilty! Various members arched their neck, their head, their ears craving for delicious news.

Claude von Riegan snagged a nearby feathered pen on his desk. The young lad dipped its tip into an inkpot and fluidly circled his response on the smoothed letter. His wrist haphazardly flicked within seconds for a signature.

Submission of his response granted him the role of House Leader for the Golden Deer House from the Leicester Alliance. Hilda, Raphael, Ignatz, Marianne, Lysithea, Leonie, and Lorenz were chosen by the Church of Seiros to follow him that fateful day.

“My Lord, will you be going?”

Another young male held the letter. He shifted the crinkled paper, his bright hues aimed at his closest friend. Dedue’s inquiry caused a soft hum to sing from the blonde. At that same moment, the owl tilted its head, a soft coo harmonic.

“I will,” he twirled the feathered pen, his lips firmed, and his voice solemn. “If this will let me redeem the Holy Kingdom of Faerghus to its former glory, then I will attend.”

Dimitri Alexandre Blaiddyd pressed his utensil unto the thick parchment. There was a circular motion of his wrist, and, shortly afterward, zig-zagged it for a signature.

Submission of his response granted him the role of House Leader for the Blue Lions House from the Holy Kingdom of Faerghus. Felix, Sylvain, Ingrid, Ashe, Dedue, Mercedes, and Annette were chosen by the Church of Seiros to follow him that fateful day.

“Everything is falling in place,” the white-haired grimaced, her fingertips unsteadily smoothing amongst the moist palms. “I must accept the invitation.”

“Are you certain, Lady Edelgard?”

Hubert stood in her shadows. No— he is her shadow. His second posture flickered in time with the lonesome candle. She completely unfolded the scroll to the owl’s supervision. The feathered ally blinked once. She nodded. Then, the young gentleman rested a hand on his chest, the darkness discoloring the smooth beauty of his porcelain pale skin. He bowed deeper than any loyal retainer would to their lord.

Edelgard von Hresvelg stroked the application with grace and delicacy. Weaves danced upon the page in a singular motion of her wrist.

Submission of her response granted her the role of House Leader for the Black Eagles House from the Adrestian Empire. Dorothea, Petra, Hubert, Ferdinand, Caspar, Linhardt, and Bernadette were chosen by the Church of Seiros to follow her that fateful day.

Everything has been set into stone. Owls hooted their final call to the upcoming students, their wings flapped in tempo. Edelgard, Dimitri, and Claude watched from high above, their pupils directed at the glistening land. The white bird was soon nothing more than a dot in the vast, orange sky. They shifted the weight on their feet, their grip tightening on the opened window's edge, their eyelids fluttered from the pleasant breeze flowing parts of their locks, all conducted simultaneously in a symphony. Now, the students must wait for the Great Tree Moon (April).

-----

Harpstring Moon (May). It has been one month since their arrival; one month at the famous Garreg Mach Monastery. Lengthy orientations and settlement were slowing to a standstill. Booming chatters and flurried excitement comfortably dipped into dignified and refined tranquility. Almost everyone had familiarized themselves with their surroundings and colleagues. Those that did not would quickly catch up.

Lady Rhea, standing in her bedroom, slowly exhaled. Birds chirped in volumes that penetrated the glassed barrier, their small bodies soaring to everlasting freedom. Tis’ the season for Spring to reach the finishing line. Their eventual retirement would pave way for the new, blistering season. She blinked. Both of her hands were raised, fingers intertwined, palms impressed, and head lowered; her silent prayers ushered into nothingness.

“Lady Rhea, how are you faring?”

Seteth stood at the doorway. Rigidity colored his posture, his bright hues gently lay to rest upon the holy maiden’s figure, to which it was drummed with the afternoon heat. She remained still and unmoving from her prayer. The same could not be said about her thin lips, its movement as casual as it could get.

“You need not worry about me, Seteth, but I am well.”

“I see.”

“How are the students?”

The songs from those birds increased in frequency. Melodies tinkered to their eardrums, their notes bouncing about within their heart, their natural passion embracing their souls. Seteth smiled in response.

“Noisy as ever.”

He could only use euphemism to describe it all.

The first month was beyond hectic. “Noisy” hardly captured the real image. Light tremors reverberated throughout the monastery. Overwhelming energy eradicated the lonesome premise once home to mere foot soldiers and bodyguards. Everyone had their eyes on each other. Crow’s feet were an epidemic as they exchanged formal greetings; some informal, such as Mercedes and Annette, where friendly hugs and kisses were given and received. An aromatic smoke wafted from the large cafeteria, sucking the population’s majority into its already-crowded site, the hopes of alleviating the chaos from outside.

“H-Hey! Linhardt, why aren’t you letting me grab thirds?!” Caspar’s reach trembled, his sight glued to the meaty target. “I’m really hungry!”

“Did you forget that there are other students in line after you?” Linhardt shook his head. “We need to leave some for them.”

“It’s a first-come, first-serve basis.”

“No, it’s not.”

“I’m going to starve!”

“You will not.”

“Yes, I will!”

“I suggest you change your eating habits then. It won’t hurt missing one drumstick from your diet.”

“LINHARDT!”

It is unfortunate traffic began to jam from the inside, its chaotic nature having shifted to a new location.

“Oi, are you both done yet?”

Felix felt his vein bulge from his head, his piercing eyes sparing no one. His metallic tray gloried its empty content before the bickering duo. Their shoulders slumped as their jaws clamped. Caspar would normally argue. It was his nature to counter a sharp response with another sharp response, albeit slightly weaker. Yet his blood stiffened at the sight. Linhardt shook his head again.

“Oh dear… It’s time we find a seat.”

An apology was delivered swiftly to his doorstep and they promptly removed themselves from the counter. The young male rubbed a couple of fingers against his temple, a huff escaping.

“Thank God they’re gone. They’re so annoying.”

“Felix, you shouldn’t say that!” Annette popped her head in with a bow. She gazed upon the sword-wielder with puffed cheeks. “Besides, they’re just getting food.”

“They were holding up the line, Ann.”

“You could’ve asked them politely.”

“Well, it’s too late for that now.”

“I think you should change your scary expression.”

“Oh, really?”

“I admit, it’s not as scary as Dimitri, but you should really smile more often.”

He scoffed. Felix plopped a chunk of sliced steak onto his newly placed plate riddled with greeneries and bread. His eyes slanted, turned towards Annette, and proceeded to drop a large quantity of meat onto her plate, despite her earlier objections.

“I would never be like the Boar Prince.”

“If you say so. I still think you should smile more in public.”

“…”

“Felix?”

“Annette,” the two have stepped away from the elongated counter, swooped down to press his lips upon her cheek. It left a tingly aftermath on Annette’s rosy cheeks, her feet tangled from an accidental crooked misstep. Felix freed one hand and intercepted her fall. Their faces were in short proximity, their breaths puffed amongst each other’s skin. Flames sharply ignited their skin with a roar as he whispered, “I want to shower you and only you with my smiles.”

“F-Felix…”

“Wow~ Take it to the bedroom, you two.”

Felix and Annette snapped their heads up. Seated from one of the table’s end, Leonie, Hilda, Marianne, and Ashe watched the two interact. Hilda smirked, her tongue holding no restraint. Besides her, the weary blue-haired student anxiously tugged on the pink-haired’s sleeve. Inaudible utters tumbled out of her parted lips, her pleas unheard by the female. As for Ashe and Leonie, they did their best to eat in silence, yet their ears perked for worthwhile events. Felix narrowed his eyes.

“You got a lot of nerve saying that to us, Hilda.”

“Felix—”

“Relax, Ann, I’m not going to hurt her.”

He approached the sitting Golden Deer. Though his hands were occupied, his mouth was not, and he happily made use of it. Verbiage intent on reprimanding filled the silent void Hilda purposely created. She plopped her chin on the palm of her hand, unblinking, and possibly bored out of her mind. Hilda did not bother to stifle her yawn either, letting it loose for the whole world to witness. Marianne felt parts of her soul fly out of her body, and dread shadowed over her eyes.

“Hilda, please apologize to him…” Marianne pleaded, her tugs becoming more apparent. “We… don’t want to cause trouble again…”

“Again…?” Annette raised a brow. “It’s only the first day we’ve been here.”

“Um… well… We accidentally broke a merchant’s axe…”

“How so?”

“Hil— I…. crashed into it—”

“Marianne! It was me, silly!” Hilda had done a complete 180 and swerved her attention to the shorter female. The energy that lay dormant bubbled to the surface, her arms pulling her friend into a tight embrace. Marianne felt her strength wither as her eyes widened. The sensation of her weight was still in her arms as Hilda glanced over at Annette. “It was me. I broke it. Not her.”

“…really?”

“Yes! I actually broke it with my bare hand!”

“Are you sure you aren’t covering up for her—”

“I. Did. It.”

“Hey! Why are you ignoring me!?”

“Pipe down, Felix,” Leonie waved her fork. “I’m trying to eat here!”

“Oi, Hilda started it!”

“And you continued!”

“Why are people so— You know what? Nevermind.”

“Hah? Could you elaborate on your unfinished statement?”

“I think this conversation is over, comrade.”

“Fine!”

Felix and Leonie fumed. Imaginary puffs of air emanated the dramatists. Soap opera would want to take note of their interactions for the next spectacular feature. Ashe began to laugh after settling the metallic mug onto the table.

“It sure is lively.”

“Lively? I think it’s outright noisy.”

The orange-haired promptly slugged his shoulder. Ashe ran out of language, incoherent sound effects elicited, and his hand furiously rubbing the affected area. His endurance is above average. He had an innate ability to run longer, burn faster, and bear far more than an ordinary boy similar in age and stature. If given the chance, his splendors would be renowned at the monastery. Yet he underestimated the power of a person called “Leonie.”

“Ow… You don’t hold your punches back, do you?”

“Why should I?”

“…”

Women are scary! Leonie especially! Such prowess that bundled and coiled in the young girl… How is that possible!? Sweat flew from his head dramatically as Leonie jabbed her fork into another piece of protein, its squelch muted from the rowdy setting. Felix fingers ran through his black hair, Annette appearing back by his side and pulling on his arm.

Ignatz and Raphael, who sat on the opposite end, pinned their gaze upon the small group. Flailing of arms, subjectless exclamations, and unnecessary lamentations painted the group as a form of entertainment.

“Ignatz, you think they’ll ever stop?”

“I don’t think so…”

“Why can’t they take it out on the training ground? I heard it’s good for sparring.”

The young boy shrugged his shoulders. As if on cue, the level of noise had risen. Vocals were lost amidst the background, his lips moving without sound.

“— - –—"

It went on for a couple of seconds, hinting of its lengthy content. Raphael was unable to grasp any of them; not a single peep was grasped and stuffed into his eardrums. He leaned forward, his muscular chest pressed upon the extended furniture, and tried to hear his artsy friend.

“——-—"

Raphael frowned. Under normal circumstances, one would speak up. This was not the case for the mighty brawn.

In contrast to their curiosity, Mercedes and Ferdinand could not bear to look. The mantle of responsible dependency rest over the duo’s shoulders.

“This is turning out to be a lively first day,” Mercedes giggled, her spoon scooping bits of the honeyed porridge. She tucked a stray strand behind her ear, her long eyelashes fluttering. “I hope it will stay this way for a long time.”

“It will happen if you strongly believe in it,” Ferdinand motioned.

His absurd confidence resonated in her heart, the healer shooting a glance. An amused hum stroked his taste buds once he took another bite from the salad bowl, oblivious to the probing gaze. She tilted her head. There had to be discrepancies with his proclamations and reality. Mercedes is a devout believer for religion and charity, but even she knows about the harsh conditions real-life posed.

“How could you be so sure?”

“Because I am Ferdinand von Aegir.”

“…oh! I… see.”

Did she expect something deeper from him?

“…”

He beamed. She reciprocated with a beam of her own. Maybe she was asking too much from him.

Nearby the four eaters, a black shadow zipped by. None of them had sensed the abnormality. Another shadow scurried after the first foreigner. That was when their sight and auditory senses kicked in.

“Was that Sylvain?” Raphael blinked. “What’s he doing?”

“I’m not too sure… It’s probably not something good, knowing him.”

“You think so too, Ferdinand?”

“I can attest to that, fufu~”

A shudder ran down Ignatz’s spine. “Y-You’re kind of scaring me, Mercedes…”

“PLEASE LEAVE ME ALONE!”

Students standing and nestled near one of the four doorways nearly went into cardiac arrest, their hands immediately resting over the wildly thumping organ. Glares and bewilderment shot at the fatigued girl. Bernadetta had burst from the cafeteria. Under normal circumstances, she would cower from their dagger-like stares. However, their eyes were the least of her problems…

“W-Where… Where can I go?!”

She had to run. She had to hide. She had to disappear.

Hot behind her trail was Sylvain. The young noble tossed his hand out to the doorway’s border. He grunted, his firm fingers curled inward, and swung his body out into the open with a sharp turn.

“Bernadetta!” he hollered. “Come back here, will you!?”

The fluttering of loose-leaf papers threatened to fly away like a bird from his grip, an entrapped victim desiring for release. Sylvain’s fast feet neared the writer, but he was careless. Smooth as the road may be, the pathways were littered with specks of debris, with some large enough to warrant a red flag.

“WHOA!”

He stumbled forward. Life danced before his eyes, Sylvain’s arms frantically mimicking wings, his frail balance with gravity fractured. Sweat poured from his pores and his breath hitched. Multiple half-steps pitter and pattered in front of one another while incoherent outcries sputtered. By the time he reconnected with the earth by kissing its pavement, the papers had all flown away to its yearnful freedom.

Bells chimed throughout the academic ground as tens of scribbled sheets scattered the clear blue sky. Day owls hooted, its wide eyes estimating the distance of its haphazard counterpart during its flight. Five of the wonderful creatures flapped and urged forward into the open plane.

High above the training ground, they traveled with sporadic battle shouts emitted from Ingrid and Petra. Two partners clunk and smacked their wooden sword.

“Haaaaah—!”

Petra swung the blunt end down. Ingrid immediately adjusted her posture, her knees bent, and her right foot slid backward. The knight raised her weapon vertically.

‘ CLUNK! ‘

Comma sweats crawled down to her chin as Ingrid felt her wrist creak. Petra’s feet returned back to earth, but not without applying an extra layer of pressure onto her opponent’s wooden sword, her arms shoved forward with a grunt. Ingrid nearly bit her lower lip, a tiny lump traveling down her throat. The Brigid princess is strong.

“Take this!”

The knight instantly reduced her strength. Petra’s figure lurched forward from the unexpected loss of equilibrium, her stability with gravity disrupted. Ingrid sidestepped to provide room for her fall. She elegantly twirled the training wood at hand and thrust it outward to “stab” Petra.

“Oh my gosh…” Dorothea watched from the distant, her hand covering her mouth. Petra had twisted her body enough during the collapse to avoid the assault. The songstress clutched her chest, small clumps of her brown hair clung to her moist forehead. “This is so stressful to watch.”

The two wonderful ladies sparred to test their might and the two had asked Dorothea to be the judge. But… who should she cheer for? Petra came from her house, but Ingrid was always there for her since the day they stepped foot. It didn’t help that they were both a beauty. Luscious hair, bountiful maturity, toned figures, delicate fleeting touches— Wait, why was she thinking about that?! She underwent her own mighty battle as the clunking of the wooden blades continuously overlapped.

Surprisingly, not one page had descended upon the monastery’s ground. The owls gave another hoot. High above the marketplace, they traveled and Lysithea, Lorenz, Hubert, and Dedue stood amongst the growing crowd.

“Ugh, I think that’s unfashionable,” Lorenz shook his head, his hand resting on his forehead. “I would expect better from you.”

“That’s rude to say that to them!” Lysithea elbowed the taller male. She furrowed her brows. “You know they’ve traveled far out here to sell their goods. Give them a break.”

“Unfortunately, if they were passionate, their products wouldn’t like this.”

“Lorenz!”

“It belongs in the U-category for ugliness.”

Unfortunately for the two, the merchant they were squabbling in front of began to see red. His shaky hands extended outward to the broom. The still shadow of fury washed over his eyes, his wooden stick slapped the stall’s pole. Both visitors felt beads of sweat fly out of their heads at the newfound sight. Death rarely crossed their minds, but today was one of them.

“It was nice visiting your shop, mister!”

Lorenz was about to follow the praising Lysithea when— oopsie! He was shoved towards the furious owner! A shriek slipped out after a narrow escape from certain doom, the stick walloped the ground mere centimeters from bodily contact.

“LYSITHEA!”

Hubert and Dedue glanced over to the rowdy Golden Deer.

“My, how unpleasant,” Hubert grumbled. He snapped shut one of the two spellbooks in his hands. “If Lady Edelgard would be disturbed by these silly activities, I would have to do something about it.”

“I object,” Dedue crossed his arms. “I understand where you are coming from, but that is not the correct way to serve your lord.”

“Excuse me, did I ask for your opinion.”

“No, but it is something I had to say.”

Hubert narrowed his eyes. “I think it would be wise for you to keep your opinion to yourself, Dedue.”

“…”

Dedue resisted the temptation to sigh. Out of all the students he had met, he knew they would have a rickety relationship. Perhaps they will never see eye-to-eye, and perhaps that will never happen. Nonetheless, their upmost loyalty to their lord was commendable. Hubert respected Dedue for serving Dimitri, and Dedue respected Hubert for serving Edelgard.

Past the students, more students arrived from all three nations like little ants through the gate. The gatekeeper’s cheerful “Welcome!” brightened their spirit for their new life. They were going to spend the next five years working, challenging, learning, loving, and forging bonds. It was an opportunity not many were granted.

They came in all different sizes and shapes. Some were from nobility. They were given special treatment by the Church, their accommodations sate the high-leveled expectations for their living conditions. Many possess some form of Crest, whether it be minor or major. Some were commoners. They were given resources by the Church, their accommodations sate their basic necessities for their living conditions. Very few possess any form of Crest.

House leaders were handpicked and determined by the archbishop, Lady Rhea, since day one. Edelgard von Hresvelg, Dimitri Alexandre Blaiddyd, and Claude von Riegan would act as this academic term’s house leaders.

Edelgard von Hresvelg would become house leader for the Black Eagles.

Dimitri Alexandre Blaiddyd would become house leader for the Blue Lions.

Claude von Riegan would become house leader for the Golden Deer.

“And so… we meet again, Dimitri,” Edelgard lowered her teacup. She sat opposite of the blonde, her lilac hues keeping tabs on his every action. “Though I cannot say I didn’t expect this.”

“I agree,” Dimitri chuckled. “Since you did not return to my kingdom, I predicted this might happen. You’ve changed though…”

“In what way?”

“Your hair—”

“That might be for another time.”

The abrupt cut off slashed hard. Dimitri blinked a couple of times in silence, his teacup returned to the clothed mat. Loveliest of all trees ruffled from overhead as a breeze smoothed their exposed skin. He lowered his eyes, a heavy weight nestled between his shoulder blades.

“Perhaps another time.”

Though silence should have followed, Claude intertwined his fingers, chin rested on them, elbows on the table, and tilted his head.

“What shouldn’t be saved for another time is how you both know each other. Spill me the tea.”

“I don’t know, Claude,” Dimitri bitterly smiled. “It’s a long story.”

“I agree. It might sour our teatime session too.”

“Aw, you’re both no fun,” the young man smirked. “Why not tell me? I promise to tell you something in exchange.”

“Like what?”

“Oh, I don’t know… Maybe about my past too.”

“Hoh… That’s quite a trade.”

“Trust me. Here, I’ll give you a little snippet, free of charge,” Claude straightened his posture and coughed into his fist. “Not too long ago, I bumped into two fabulous people. They were of nobility, yet they seem to know each other.”

“Claude…”

“One was a cute little princess, and one was a grumpy looking prince.”

“Claude.”

“And I hope we could become good friends.”

“CLAUDE.”

Edelgard and Dimitri overlapped, their cheeks flushed. Claude placed his hands behind his head and winked.

“It’s a good story, don’t you think?”

-----

Now, a month scampered forward, to where Seteth, Rhea, Flayn, and Catherine stood inside of the holy church ground. Seteth was bent down, his fingers brushing black ink on the pristine surface, faint squeaks occasionally cracking the still atmosphere. Flayn bent forward in a similar fashion, hands behind her back, and observing the process. Those paired bright hues, accompanied by a smile, flickered between her older brother and the ritual drawings.

“I’m excited to see who the new professors and staff are.”

Garreg Mach Monastery had a tradition every five years: the Garreg Summoning Ritual. Led by the Church of Seiros and its headmaster, Lady Rhea, this was one of the many options to tackle economical strategies. Funds from the Church were finite; there was only so much their nails could scrape in from donations. So they turned their heads towards a new shining beacon.

Three students from nobility, who would naturally become house leaders, were invited to complete the mandatory summoning ritual. Being chosen as house leaders were not an easy feat. The students had to derive from a long legacy of lineage fit to rise to the role. A large quantity of magical energy, called mana, was required to fulfill their position. This was so they can summon their professors.

Unlike other academic institutions, Rhea expressed this unique tradition for over 50 years. The act of calling forth their instructor would help bolster the students’ performances with a teacher fit for their personalities, attitudes, and beliefs. It was the perfect substitution for conducting costly background checks and hiring of adjuncts and tenures.

“To be honest, Flayn, I’m a little worried who they will be. I still cannot get over the fact one of the students summoned a thief!”

“He was stealing a lot of our supplies, wasn’t he?”

“Unfortunately.”

“If I hadn’t caught him, the church would have been in a pinch.”

Seteth paused. He glanced up from the fresh circle, his chuckle apparent. Catherine, on the sideline, cracked her knuckles.

“I would’ve pummeled him if it weren’t for Flayn.” No moral restraint… a rather prominent feature in very few warriors like her. “The fact that he would take Lady Rhea’s belongings deserved more than a simple execution.”

So long as it was in the name of Lady Rhea, she would chop up her limbs and offer it up to the holy maiden.

“I am certain that would not happen again.” Rhea stepped forward once Seteth rose from his crouch. “I have prayed to the Goddess for good fortune. I can sense that this year will be one that will forever be remembered.”

Catherine’s knuckles suddenly whitened, her grip tightening on the relic’s handle, and jawlines outlined from the smell of fresh meat purifying the distilled air. The double doors creaked. Sharp eyes penetrated the sturdy chests of the incoming house leaders. Claude and Dimitri each pushed one half of the majestic, tall barrier, Edelgard walking between the tall boys. It was picturesque.

Seteth and Flayn returned to Rhea’s side as the archbishop silently motioned her hand down to Catherine. A grunt as she eased her hold, but not without a displeased exhale. The top-ranking Knight served under the name of Seiros stepped back. Her eyes had not left the three students, however.

Archbishop bowed.

“Greetings, House Leaders. I hope you have familiarized yourself with the Officers Academy.”

“I think we’ve had plenty to check around,” Claude said. “One month is enough to make us experts for any visitors.”

His jokes were not received— Rather, Rhea rolled over and onward from his witty remark. She slowly looked at the marked ground.

“I have also requested that you participate in the Garreg Summoning Ritual. You all were required to bring three items that you wish to use for the tradition.”

Then, she returned her gaze to the trio.

“You will be their Master and they will be your Servant. But you will refer to them as your Professor.” Her eyes were crinkled. “Are you prepared?”

Dimitri, Claude, and Edelgard nodded. Their silence following afterward notion the archbishop to beckon them forth.

“Best wishes, my children. May the Goddess watch over you.”

One at a time, they stood in front of the archaic circle, their hands and pockets filled. Compatibility may play a heavy influence on their soulful incantations, but the students’ chosen objects held some degree of control over who their professor would be. They exchanged glances. The question now lies if Lady Luck would bestow her magic for them.

The first to stand is Dimitri Alexandre Blaiddyd. He pieced the three chosen objects with great care upon the circular design. A monocle, a parchment on tactics, and blood from a dying boar preyed the markings. His vial had tipped upside down after a complete stride. Dimitri stuffed the stained glass into his pocket, the metallic iron smeared his and his friends’ olfactory. The Prince of Faerghus raised his hand.

Stanza after stanza riddled the tense environment. Sky blue light illuminated beneath his feet, a gust of wind swirled around the noble, his navy cape flapping in the air. Searing heat crackled into the back of his hand, his brows scrunched, and his stifled cries noticeable. Dimitri’s chants maintain stability. There would be no interruption that would snaffle his delivery.

Bright light blinded everyone on the premise. Edelgard and Claude were forced to shield with their arms, their eyelids squeezed shut for good measures. Catherine, Seteth, and Flayn grimaced from it. Rhea calmly stood out with her holy demeanor. The entire church disappeared for a few seconds from their sight, the sky blue blanketed their vision.

Fine mist surrounded a tall man. The summoned Servant stroke his gray beard, his monocle glistening in-sync with the sunrays, and his thick coat covering all parts of his body, leaving very little room for skin exposure. He spotted the panting Dimitri, the mark of the command seal tattooed on his burning skin. Little attention was given to the others as the elder chuckled.

“So, it appears that I have been summoned by a young gentleman.” He bowed deeply. “I am Hanneman, Archer class.”

“An Archer, huh… You don’t look like one.”

“You think so?” Hanneman cupped his chin. “Then again, you speak of the truth. I am well-versed in the art of magic. As you can tell, I am nothing more than a scholar when I was alive.”

Dimitri nodded, his shaky hands coming to a standstill. It appears that the person he had summoned was not meant to be summoned into this class.

“Yikes… That’s one heck of an L you’re gonna have to take,” Claude shook his head. This bemused the new professor. Yet Dimitri responded in his place.

“I find possibilities where others see limitations, Claude. This is a gift from the Goddess.”

That earned Dimitri a whistle. The Golden Deer House Leader smiled—genuinely in fact—it stroked the blonde’s heart to a slight flutter!

“You might be right… this might be an impressive result in the end.”

Seteth proceeded to cleanse the circle in preparation for Claude as they continued their conversation. Edelgard, who had remained mute, stared down at the palms of her hands. They were violently trembling as if an earthquake descended. Was it from her nerves? She instinctively curled her fingers inward and jammed her nails. In the background, Dimitri pat Claude’s shoulder as he was next in line.

Claude von Riegan took out his belonging. A wooden flute, a package of herbal medicine, and an alcohol bottle. The first two objects held the least shock value compared to the third for both Dimitri and Edelgard. When they expressed wonderment, Claude responded with a playful tone, his hand cautiously spilling the alcoholic content.

“Random chance. I have a feeling this is going to go well.”

“I don’t think you should be horsing around with this…”

“Relax, Dimi, I got this.”

He mimicked his friend’s action after settling the empty container on the ground. Hand extended outward, his lips parted, and golden light circulated the ritual. The wind blew into their figures once again as his chants became louder. Compared to Dimitri, he was able to bear through the flaming sharpel from the forceful engraving of the command seal for the most part.

This time, the newcomer was a woman. Dressed to impress, her beauty radiating in conjunction with her angelic voice, the Servant boasts her skillsets to the witnesses.

“I am Manuela. Songstress, physician, Caster class, and available, I look forward to working with you, Claude.”

Boastful? Perhaps, but Claude sees the positive trait from it. Though some may think otherwise.

“How haughty.”

An unusual remark from Hanneman. Dimitri, Claude, and Edelgard diverted their attention to the older male, his features tinged with displeasure. Manuela felt a strong pulsation from the corner of her head. The Caster opened her mouth, paused, then clamped it close. She dryly swallowed and waved her hand.

“I’m going to pretend I didn’t hear that, Hanneman. Wouldn’t want to look back in front of my new Master.”

Claude felt a nervous chortle erupt from his throat. His and Dimitri’s Servants are going to have a field day with each other… Their eyes shifted to the quiet female. Not a peep from the princess. Her nerves must have gotten the best of her, her figure stiff as a stick. They wonder… what could make her so nervous?

Their pondering continued as Seteth wiped and swept the remaining materials from the ritual. Rhea motioned once more for the final summoner. Edelgard inhaled deeply. She held it. Then, she exhaled.

Finally, it was Edelgard von Hresvelg’s turn. In her grasp were three items. Just like Dimitri and Claude, they were special in their own way. They picked it with careful consideration. For Edelgard, she had found these materials from the Red Canyon. Ferdinand and Hubert had accompanied her for the abrupt trip. Compared to Claude and Dimitri, she felt a strong, magnetic pull to the location. It was almost as if it were calling for her.

A rustic piece from a shattered sword, a torn patch from a dark overcoat, and… that was it.

“Let silver and steel be the essence. Let stone and the archduke of contracts be the foundation Let my great Master Hresvelg be the ancestor”

Rhea widened her eyes when she spotted the white-haired unsheathing the dagger from behind.

“Let rise a wall against the wind that shall fall Let the four cardinal gates close. Let the three-forked road from the crown reaching unto the Kingdom rotate.”

Its slithering blade shone as Edelgard brought it high above her head. Catherine reached for her sword, her wrist prepared.

“I hereby declare Your body shall serve under me.”

The tip moved in a curvature. A crimson line was left in its wake, the blood oozing out of her self-infliction.

“My fate shall be your sword.”

She tilted her hand despite the throbbing aches scratching underneath her cut.

“Submit to the beckoning of the Holy Grail If you will submit to this will and this reason… Then answer!”

Gentle vermillion light encapsulated everyone present. Its rays brightened with each drip of her blood, her offering sating the slumbering Servant. At that same moment, a fiery ignition dragged burning hot iron on the back of her hand. Edelgard bit back a whimper. She grabbed ahold of her extended wrist with pinched features.

“An oath shall be sworn here! I shall attain all virtues of all of Heaven. I shall have dominion over all evils of all of Hell!”

A gust far more powerful than that from previous sessions threatened to fling the students away. Seteth and Catherine had embraced Flayn and Rhea respectively, their feet rooted to the vibrating floors. Dimitri and Claude struggled to keep afoot. Their narrowed eyes peered through the slits as Edelgard forced herself upright. The grip that kept her wrist in place squeezed until her blood circulation drastically slowed.

“From the Heaven, attended to by three great words of power Come forth from the ring of restraints, Protector of the Holy Balance!”

Just like Dimitri and Claude’s session, white light enveloped their five senses.

“…”

Smoke lingered in the air, but at the center of the summoning circle, no one had appeared. Everyone waited with bated breaths. Seconds transitioned into a minute. The silence was all that resulted. She glanced down at the back of her injured hand. The aching red mark resembling that of an unknown Crest seared into her skin. Yet this excruciating process yielded no Servant.

“…why?”

Edelgard sunk to her knees.

Had she failed? Was this all a fluke in the end? Edelgard groveled at the tainted ground, her magma-red blood engulfing the entirety of her wounded palm in its flames. The command seal was still present. What did she do wrong? Tears spurted from her lacrimal glands, those salty substances hurried to separate from her skin and onto the flat surface. Claude and Dimitri exchanged worrisome glances.

“Edelgard…”

“Princess…”

They approached the withered youngster. They stood nearby but found the inability to engage sympathetically. After all, their Servants lingered from behind. The boys were able to call forth their professor, and Edelgard was unable to. They would never be able to understand her anguish.

“This isn’t fair…” she hoarsely whispered. “Did I do… Is this karma?”

“Karma? Don’t be silly,” Dimitri shook his head. He kneeled to her level and eyed the female. He was not sure what she meant by karma, but it crushed his heart to see his childhood friend defeated. “Your Professor might come. You still have your command seal.”

“That means nothing if they don’t appear.”

“Is this thing rigged?” Claude’s attention diverted to the older adults. He motioned towards the weeping girl. “This isn’t supposed to mess up, right?”

Rhea shook her head. “This is the first that had happened before. All professors were able to be summoned the past nine times.”

“You didn’t have to include that last part, you know.”

“Hey, don’t speak to Lady Rhea like that, young man,” Catherine stepped forward and viciously pointed his finger. “Know your place.”

Claude huffed. He shrugged his shoulders and abandoned insanity. “I apologize. I’m a bit frustrated too for Edelgard—”

‘ BANG! ‘

It was immediately accompanied by a distant crackling of heavy logs tumbling on top of each other. Students and staff alike perked their ears. Claude and Dimitri immediately assisted in Edelgard’s recovery, their Servants swiftly turning to the source. Precautions were taken as their chosen Class weapons were pulled out. Catherine completely unsheathed her Thunderbrand, its electricity crackled and popped without restraint. Seteth shielded both Flayn and Rhea with his arms, his body ready to absorb any potential damages.

Once the dust had settled before them, they were greeted with a spectacular sight. The Goddess Seiros must have shone her lucky stars to the warrior. Stones and obliterated woods formed as a piece of disheveled furniture. Arms resting on the natural armrest, palm pressed on the Sword of Creator’s hilt, and cheek leaning on her elbowed hand, she slowly opened her eyes.

“…”

Could this be…? Edelgard’s jelly legs wobbled as she approached the arrogantly seated woman. The roles were reversed. Edelgard collapsed onto one knee, head raised to the female like a Servant as the Servant exerted regality like a Master. Navy hues dragged its gaze to the fallen. She examined the student with scrutiny.

“Your blood…” The newcomer had gotten up from her seat, kneeled, and instantly greeted the magus with a kiss on the gash. Normally, this would be viewed as romantic, but not a lick of emotion crossed. When she parted, sticky fluid clung to bits of her chin. “I’m bad at healing, but this is the least I could do.”

Perhaps this is part of an innate skill the Servant has. The shallow infliction had dissipated, leaving behind a bloody mess of leftover iron.

Then, she got up, sword still at hand. Edelgard watched in awe from below as the Servant quietly spoke,

“Byleth. Saber class. Tell me… are you my Master?"

#loyalflutist #fodlan holy grail war #chapter 1 #fanfic #fan fiction #fanfiction #fan fic #series #fire emblem #fire emblem three houses #felix x annette #slight:#edeleth #f!byleth x edelgard #hilda x marianne #hildanne #(???)#what are most of these ships name lmao #also won't bother to tag all of the characters for this chapter because it's tooooo much

13 notes · View notes

sharksabrejr · 5 years

Text

You and Finn Pt 2

Warning: Explicit and angsty and love triangles

March 2014

“Love, please. I’m sorry I said all of those things, I’m sorry that I hurt you. I didn’t mean any of it- I’m a fucking wreck right now. I don’t want to lose you. Please, pick up the phone. I love-”

Message deleted.

November 2013

Finn repeats your name like a mantra as his lips trail across your skin. You lay together on his bed, fingers intertwined, your back joined to Finn and his leg hooked over your hip. It’s rare that you both have a day off and are able to enjoy a lazy Sunday like this.

“We should get up,” you murmur, checking the time on your phone. “It’s nearly noon.”

“Hmm… no.” Finn reaches around and palms your breast, tweaking a nipple and parting your hair to the side to kiss your exposed collarbone. “We’re going to spend all day in this bed and I’m going to make you come five million more times.”

You giggle, but persist. “I still have to finalize my lesson plan for tomorrow and do laundry and we’ll probably need to eat eventually.”

“Silly woman, here I am offering you my body and sexual prowess and all you can think about is your job and food and-” Finn’s words are suddenly cut off by a loud growl from his stomach. You both squeal with laughter.

“Eggs?” You ask him and Finn nods eagerly. He lets you go after a mild struggle and you pull on your panties. You’re about to throw on your sweater when he tosses you the button up dress shirt he’d worn the night before. You look up at him in confusion.

“Much hotter, believe me. Leave the top buttons open if you love me.”

You scoff at his request, but put on the shirt and leave the top two buttons undone just the same. “Happy?” you ask him, waving your arms and flashing your cleavage at him theatrically.

“Yes.” Finn’s triumphant grin tells you that he got exactly what he wanted. It isn’t until you really notice the exhilaration in his blue eyes that you realized what he’d said.

You stare at him dumbly, stuttering, something about how did he want his eggs? Finn had told you that he loved you more than a week ago, and while he hadn’t been pressuring you to return the statement he had certainly not kept quiet about it. He would repeat the declaration every so often, often when you were least expecting it.

Finn crashes his lips to yours in a short, charged kiss and gives you a light swat on your bottom. “Kitchen, love. I’m starving.” Whistling cheerily he walks out of the room, and after a moment you follow him.

You get to work right away scrambling a dozen eggs as Finn boils a pot of water and pours it into a French press for your tea. For himself, he brews a pot of strong black coffee. You’re still reflecting about what just happened back in the bedroom that you don’t notice the bread on your plate until you’re sitting next to Finn at the counter.

“Surprise,” he laughs, when absentmindedly you take a bite of the slice of wheat bread and drop it back to your plate in disbelief. “I know you miss having toast with your breakfast when you sleep over, so I picked some up at the grocer’s.”

“You bought bread for me,” you sigh in amazement, and then chuckle. Finn could go through a half-dozen eggs in minutes but had always refused to have any bread in his kitchen before.

Damn it, how could you not fall in love with this man?

Finn is still smiling, as if he knows exactly what you’re thinking.

December 2013

“It’s not that I don’t like you- I actually do, as a matter of fact- but that man you’re with is my best friend, and I want what’s best for him. Right now, you are notthat. Don’t get me wrong, it’s not anything you’re doing, it’s plain bad timing. He’s on the verge of achieving his dream here. That other company won’t give him an inch.

“He’s crazy about you. If you feel the same way about him, you would understand why it’s best to end it now. He will ruin himself if you let him.”

October 2013

You argue it’s too soon, but Finn insists on taking you home with him. It’s your first proper holiday together, and you had excitedly agreed when Finn brought up the idea of making the trip to Ireland. The idea of meeting his family didn’t sink in until you were on the plane and Finn casually mentioned how his family were looking forward to meeting you. “It’s not too soon love,” he assures you, throwing his arm around your shoulder and pressing a kiss to the side of your forehead.

You stand aside and smile awkwardly as Finn’s mother opens the door and immediately showers her son with hugs and kisses. “Gerroff Mum!” Finn blushes and laughs.

“Well, you don’t come home enough and I’m making up for lost time,” she admonishes him. Still beaming, Finn’s mother turns to you. “Lovely girl, look at you!”

“It’s nice to meet you, Mrs.-” You hold your hand out, but Finn’s mother shakes her head and draws you into a hug.

“None of that, dear! I’ll take Leonie or Mum, nothing else. Come in, come in you two, out of the cold now. Dad is in the kitchen taking the roast out and the rest are already at the table- you know how your brothers get if you delay lunch for even just a few- look who’s home! Boys, Amo! Looky, your brother brought a guest. Dear, you sit right by me. Half of my boys are thirty, but there’s no telling if something goes flying around. Up there, next to Amo.”

Quick introductions are made between you and Finn’s brothers and sister. Finn’s dad sets a huge pot of roast down on the table and wraps you in a big bear hug. “I was beginning to think my boy was never going to bring anyone home. Fair play son, you got a fine thing here.”

Finn’s younger brother wolf-whistles at you, and Finn smacks him on the forehead. Finn’s other brother grabs him in a headlock and keeps him in the hold until Finn’s dad intervenes. The brothers are a boisterous bunch, and you’re glad Finn’s mother sits you between herself and Finn’s sister. It should have been a given that you feel like an outsider in such a tight-knit family unit, but they all take turns asking you questions and telling you stories about Finn.

“This is a wonderful town to raise children in. Have you thought about having children?” (”Dad, leave her alone!” - Finn)

“You know your fella keeps these stacks of girly comics under his bed with his wrestling magazines. I’ll show you if you’d like.” (”Feck off Eoin!”- Finn)

You meet Finn’s eyes across the table at every comment, his looks ranging from stifled laughter to mortified. He shakes his head at you incredulously when his older brother loudly starts listing the names of all of his Secondary School girlfriends. You wink back at him.

As they say he hadn’t been home in months, Finn’s siblings heckle him into doing the washing up. You go to help him, but in no uncertain terms, Finn’s mother asks you to take a walk outside with her “to help with my digestion. It’s not wise for an old girl like me to be eating big meals like this anymore.”

“Mum,” Finn calls out in a warning tone, but his mother shoots him a sly look and gently prods you outside. Her voice is still kind, but Finn’s mother gets straight down to business.

“You know, my Finn is the most tenderhearted of my boys. The sweetest of the bunch. I hope you know that, dear.” You nod. “All these years, he tells me all he’s doing is his wrestling until about a few weeks ago when he told me you were coming home with him. His dad and I were shocked you know, he really hasn’t brought anyone to meet us since school.

“I wasn’t very welcome to the idea. When he called, he said that you and him have only been seeing each other for some weeks and I told him, ‘do not bring this girl home if you’re not serious about her.’ But he told me ‘I am, Mum.’ He has a good head, but I wasn’t sure if my son was telling me the truth. But now, seeing the two of you together… I’m glad he brought you home.” Finn’s mother stops walking, and she hugs you again, more warmly than before. “ I’m getting on you know, and so is his dad and we want to get a bit of time with all of our grandkids.”

The idea of having children with Finn catches you off guard and you began stammering that it was a topic you and Finn hadn’t talked about yet. Finn’s mother laughs and dismisses your weak protests. “Just a matter of time. I see you love my son.” It’s not a question. “I’m going to frighten you a bit more, dear. I saved the dress I wore when I married Finn’s father. We’ll have to take it in and let it out here and there, but you would be perfect in it.”

April 2014

“Finn,” you gasp. You stare at him disbelievingly when you open your front door, unable to believe it’s actually him on your doorstep.

Finn holds up his hand. “Just wait. I want you to know it’s taking all of my willpower not to take you in my arms right now and kiss the hell out of you, but I want you to hear me out first. Will you do that for me?”

You hesitate for a long moment, then step aside to let Finn into your apartment. Showing him into the living room, you invite him to sit on the sofa and you take the opposite armchair. Finn watches you wring your hands in your lap as you think of something to say.

“Do you want some tea? Water?” You offer. You can’t stand the silence, the tension in the air, how Finn glowers at you.

“No.” Finn looks over you, observing how deliberately you distance yourself from him. You’re fidgeting, eyes wandering everywhere but in Finn’s direction. “You cut your hair.”

“Yeah.” You run your hand through your shorter locks. “Better for this climate.”

“It looks good on you.” Finn licks his lips.

You feel yourself flush. You tuck your hair behind your ear and change the subject “How are your parents?”

“They’re well. Mum was disappointed you didn’t come for Easter. Yours?”

“They’re happy I’m closer to home.” Nervously, you ask him, “Did you tell your mother what happened between us?”

“No, but I’m sure she’s guessed. She’s good at knowing when I’ve fucked up.” He chuckles bitterly.

“Finn…” There were so many things you wanted to say to him- everything you wanted to say to him in the months you’ve been apart- but the words don’t come out.

Finn is quietly fuming, his fingers tapping the shoulder of the chair. His shoulders are tense. “Do you miss being with me at all?” he asks you abruptly.

Tears spring to your eyes. “Of course I do.”

“Who’s the guy you’ve been seeing?”

It was the question you’d been dreading. “Does it matter?”

“Yes.”

“Why?”

“I want to kick his ass.”

“What?” You scoff. “Don’t joke.”

Finn isn’t smiling. “I’m not joking. I’d very much like to kick the ass of the man who’s screwing my girlfriend.”

“Finn, you’re being ridiculous.”

He explodes. “Why won’t you just tell me who you’re fucking!”

Those blue eyes always looked at you with love before. You still saw remnants of love there, but it was clouded by hurt and anger. “No one,” you whisper.

“What?”

“I’m not dating anyone. I thought that if I told you I was with someone… it would be easier.”

Finn’s voice is full of derision. “So what, you lied to me? Thought I’d take it easier if you said you were with someone else? Because that made it worse- thinking of someone, anyone else with his hands on you- it makes my skin crawl.”

“I didn’t lie to you. I’ve met someone, but he-we haven’t done anything. I won’t let him.”

“You’re lying!”

“I’m not! I really wish I could move on because this guy is fantastic- he’s kind and passionate and funny- just like you! I can’t move on because I can’t fucking stop thinking about you, Finn!”

Finn stands up and marches towards you swiftly. Before you can react, he cups your face and tilts your chin up. After such a long time, the feel of his hands on your jaw is electrifying, cutting off your every single thought. Your eyes flutter close as his mouth brushes yours, and you feel so weak you lean into him for support. Your lips open for him hungrily.

Finn pulls you to your feet from the chair, his hands moving from your face to your waist. You rake your fingers over the hard muscles of his back, then reaching for the hem of his shirt, pull it over his head. “Oh god,” you whisper, kissing his chest and stomach and automatically you’re on your knees, pulling at his belt and the zipper on his khakis.

Finn hisses when your hand closes over his cock, stroking him and taking him into your mouth. His fingers fists in your hair, keeping it from falling on your face. “Fuck,” he moans, thrusting softly into your mouth. At this, you gag and Finn quickly checks on you in concern. Your eyes stare back at him heatedly even as your lips bob around his cock.

Knowing he would come if you continued, Finn forces you back to your feet and turning you away from him, pushes you over the arm of the chair on your stomach. He pulls down the waistband of your shorts and feels the lips of your pussy. Seeing how wet you already are, Finn pushes your panties to the side and enters you swiftly, grunting at the feel of you around his cock.

“Finn!” you cry, your voice strangled. His movements are urgent, the movements of his hand on your clit precise. He smacks your rear cheek as he rides you. There is none of his usual sweetness, nor could you call it lovemaking. He was fucking you.

Your climax comes quickly, coursing through you in waves and waves of euphoria that leaves you woozy. Finn doesn’t last much longer, his fingers leaving indentations on your skin when he grips your hips. His satisfaction is quiet and almost guilty. You surprise Finn when you turn your face towards him for a slow and lasting kiss.

“I have a meeting with the head of talent here,” he tells you. “I fly out to Stamford tomorrow.”

“Oh.” That changes things.

July 2014

“I cleared out half the closet and some drawers for your clothes. If you need more room, we’ll probably have to shop for a bigger dresser, it’s a tight fit already.” You unlock the door to the apartment. “I have two sets of keys, but I gave the other to the neighbor upstairs in case of emergencies so we’ll have to share until we can make a trip to the hardware store for a copy.”

“I didn’t bring much with me.” Finn’s nose wrinkles as he stares around the living room. You watch him, worrying that he doesn’t like the apartment.

“I know it’s small, but it’s close to work and school and it will be an easy drive for you to the PC. We didn’t pass it on the drive here, but we’re also really close to ponds and lakes which help with the heat somewhat and also hiking paths and the woods are-”

“Love, it’s great. Really.” Finn smiles at you, but it doesn’t help to make you feel more at ease. “Do you want to give me the grand tour?”

You show him where things are stored in the kitchen and the linens in the hallway closet and the bathroom and to the bedroom, helping him with bringing his bags outside. Awkwardly, you watch as he starts unzipping his bags. “Would you like help putting away your things?” You hear yourself, and think you sound like a flight attendant. Finn shakes his head at your offer. “Okay, well I’m just going to take a quick shower, just yell if you need anything.”

You spend a moment deciding whether or not to lock the bathroom door and ultimately decide to keep it unlocked before undressing. You didn’t know why you were acting so strangely around Finn. Within a few weeks of when you had first started dating, you had practically lived at Finn’s apartment but here… it felt different. Like you didn’t know each other. You step into the shower, standing still under the showerhead and letting the droplets rain on your face.

The sound of the water drowns out the sound of the door sliding open. Finn’s arms circles your waist, and you flinch when you feel his hands on your stomach.

“Wow,” Finn breathes, “you really don’t want me here, do you?”

“No!” you quickly deny. “It’s not that. Finn, I’m really happy you’re here.” You turn to face him, unable to articulate your discomfort. “I can’t describe it, it just feels… It’s not like it was before.”

“Maybe. But we’re the same people.” Finn puts his arms around you again, and this time you let him. “And I love you.”

You smile, but don’t reply. You respond to Finn’s kisses and submit to his touch but in the back of your mind you’re thinking about that other man you let go of and wondering how it would be if-

#finn bálor #finn balor #finn balor x reader #finn balor imagine #you and finn

65 notes · View notes

perditaalottachocolate-blog · 6 years

Text

More April Weather (31)

This is a gift with Ladrien for @noratheodora from 500 followers give away. I hope you’ll enjoy it! (It took some time, sorry, but Adrien Appreciation Week story needed my attention.)

I’ve decided to expand “April Weather” universe in form of drabbles. If there are some scenes or points you'd like to see explored, be let me know - best to hit my ask box.

House Call

AO3 / fanfiction

[This takes place after Chapter 27 “First Kiss”]

‘Ehhh…’ Adrien sighed lying on his left side.

‘Ahhhh…’ he breathed rolling onto his back.

‘Ehhh…’ he uttered turning to his right side.

This was the third day of his stay at home, after he was reckless enough to get drenched in the rain and consequently got sick. He was supposed to drink lots of fluids, eat chicken brew, and was put on bed rest. At first he wasn’t complaining - he really had been feeling awful, with spikes of fever, dizziness and shivers. But two days of this treatment left him utterly bored and he felt that the third day would finally drive him up the wall.

Marinette brought him homework twice, but Nathalie refused to let her in.

‘Doctor’s orders,’ she stated. ‘You don’t want to get your girlfriend sick, do you?’ she asked, a ghost of a smile dancing on her lips at the mention of their freshly updated relationship status.

He had no reply to that. He could argue that Marinette had gotten as drenched as he had, and considering the activity they had been partaking in while getting wet, if Marinette could get sick like him, she would already have.

The boy broke into a fit of giggles when a thought hit him.

Plagg flew out of his trash can and eyed him in confusion. ‘The fever is spiking?’

‘I caught a bug while kissing a bug,’ Adrien announced panting and wiped a tear from his eye.

The kwami snickered goodnaturedly. ‘Yup, you’re delirious again.’

‘Awww, come on, Plagg,’ the boy complained. ‘I’m bored and I miss Marinette.’

Exchanging texts wasn’t the same as being with her. And the newly established level of intimacy between them meant that he was three days behind on kisses and cuddles. He wasn’t sure how much more of this fast he could take, before he would get Marinette-starved to the point of going nuts.

‘Luckily for you, your misery is over,’ the little cat replied cripticaly.

‘Plagg, I don’t want another lecture on the history of camembert!’ Adrien whined flopping onto the pillows.

‘Okay, first - rude,’ the kwami chided. ‘And second, just look to your window, kid.’

The boy did as he was told and gasped. Ladybug was hanging upside down behind one of the panels. Her pigtails bobbed in the wind. She waved at him shyly and sent him a bright smile. Adrien returned the gestures before reaching for the remote and opening the window.

As she dropped inside his room, he quickly sat up and ran his fingers through his messy hair in vain attempt to smooth the bedhead he had managed to achieve. He decided to ignore Plagg’s snickers.

Ladybug stood for a moment, locked in place, uncertain what to do. She blushed when her gaze swept over his figure on the bed and Adrien suddenly felt extremely self conscious. She strolled to him, taking a seat on the side and reaching for his hand.

This was strange, he thought. As Adrien he had been close to Marinette for a while, lately reaching a few milestones. As Chat Noir he now shared a similar level of intimacy with Ladybug. But he somehow still had troubles about this particular side of their relationship - with him a civilian and her behind the mask. While out of suit he felt a bit exposed in the heroine’s presence. Besides their previous encounters as Ladybug and Adrien each time had brought significant changes to their relationship. He would be lying if he said that didn’t take its toll.

Yeah, it felt weird, but here she was - his supergirlfriend, watching him expectantly and brushing her fingers over his hand.

‘So…,’ Adrien cleared his throat, ‘since when does the brave heroine of Paris pay house calls to sick citizens?’

Ladybug’s blush deepened. She looked at him from under her dark lashes, the blue stare sending his heart into a step dance.

‘Since they are dating her and she is missing them like crazy,’ she admitted coyly. ‘Nathalie wouldn’t let me in as Marinette again.’

‘I know,’ he sighed. ‘I’m still not sure you should be here. I would hate myself if you got sick because of me,’ he added squeezing her hand.

‘You got sick because of me,’ the girl countered. ‘Besides, Tikki said I won’t get sick when I’m like this,’ she gestured to the suit. ‘And- ,’ she shyly dropped her gaze to their joined hands.

‘And?’ he echoed, curious what had her suddenly so flustered.

‘The open door policy is no fun,’ she complained.

‘No fun?’

That was an understatement of the year. It was annoying, embarrassing, and - yeah - effectively prevented them from having a certain kind of fun. But why was she talking about it now?

Ladybug shook her head in reply to his question and climbed to the bed on all fours. ‘Not when I want to do this…’

She leaned in and planted a chaste kiss on his cheek. Adrien felt his pulse quickening.

‘And this…’

Ladybug tilted her head and kissed the corner of his mouth. He inhaled sharply.

‘And this…’ she breathed against his lips and wiped the distance between them, cradling his cheeks with her hands.

Adrien reluctantly pulled her into his lap and wrapped his arms around her waist, not for a moment breaking from the soft, leisurely kiss.

‘How do you feel?’ Ladybug whispered when they finally parted.

He arched his brow meaningfully, satisfied to feel the heat of her face against his own. ‘Surprisingly, a lot better,’ he murmured. He pulled her closer and hugged thoroughly, to compensate for all those days they’d been apart.

‘What if someone comes in?’ she breathed against his ear, sending a pleasant shiver down his spine.

‘Nah, I already got my lunch and meds. They won’t bother me for a while,’ Adrien assured her. ‘Cuddle time!’ he whisper-cried and fell backwards earning a surprised squeak from her. ‘Come, my bug-pillow,’ he nuzzled her neck and breathed the divine scent of her hair. ‘I missed you so much!’

‘I missed you too, goof,’ she giggled.

‘Your goof,’ by now this apparently became their routine. Adrien brushed his nose against hers and stole a quick kiss. Then he pulled the covers over the two of them. ‘Now hush and snuggle, like the the good bug you are,’ he ordered.

Ladybug scooted closer and laid her head on his chest, ‘As you wish,’ she complied.

They stayed like this, wrapped in each other’s embrace until Adrien fell asleep. When he woke up, she was gone. The only evidence that it wasn’t a dream was the cute little doodle of a cartoon Adrien chasing a ladybug, that she had left by his bed.

Marinette got sick the next day. Thankfully a certain cat could keep her company.

Chapters: 1 | masterpost | 30 | 31 | 32 | 33 |

#ladrien #perdita writes #april weather #april weather art #ml fic #more april weather #ladybug #adrien agreste #plagg #house call #ml fanart #500 followers give away #noratheodora

89 notes · View notes

twopoppies · 6 years

Text

Historical AU Fic Recs

I was asked by @zsolounamanzana to recommend some historical fics (sorry love, I accidentally deleted your ask!). I don’t actually read historical AUs that often, so I will probably end up recommending ones you already know, but here’s a bunch I really liked. I hope there’s some here for you:

Threadbare by kiwikero / @icanhazzalou

Harry Styles was eight years old when Louis Tomlinson kept him from falling into a machine in a Manchester textile mill.

He was 18 years old when nothing, not even the threat of death, could keep Harry from falling in love with Louis.

Howls Like A Beast (You Flower, You Feast) by @indiaalphawhiskey

France, 1754. Château de Versailles.

“You don’t love me,” Louis had said, utterly blasé as he callously fractured the heart of a Harry that was just barely eighteen.

“I do,” Harry had insisted pleadingly, green eyes already watering.

Louis had rolled his eyes, exasperated and flippant in the way only beautiful, young boys could be when faced with the affections of a baby prince. He had run his finger down Harry’s cheek then, had forced him to look into his eyes as he delivered the final blow.

“You’ll change your mind once you’ve seen more of the world,” Louis had teased, pressing a brutally delicate kiss onto Harry’s lovely, pure cheek. “Once you’ve been properly defiled.” He had whispered filthily, delighted by the gasp he heard, the frantic pink blush that had rested high on Harry’s cheeks, the power he had felt at knowing he could make the Crown Prince squirm.

To Honor by Awriterwrites / @a-writerwrites

#46. It's Getting a Little Hard

Ech day me comëth tydinges thre, For wel swithë sore ben he: The on is that Ich shal hennë, That other that Ich not whennë, The thriddë is my mestë carë, That Ich not whider Ich shal farë.

**** Each Very grievous are they One must go hence Do not know when Greatest grief Do not know whither I must go

-Unknown, Medieval English lyrics

Commander Styles leads his men to victory, but at what cost?

And down the long and silent street by whimsicule

The year is 1881 and if you’re alone in this world you might as well be dead, because starving dogs have no mercy.

Or: Wherein Louis and Harry are on the opposite ends of the social ladder, but their paths still cross on the filthy streets Louis calls his home. The odds are staked against them from the beginning, and even more when Louis' past finally catches up with him.

Atlas At Last by @louisandthealien

He doesn’t know what he had been expecting out of the road trip itself besides burping contests and too much shitty gas station food with Oli and Stan, but in the brief moment before Harry ambles up his driveway, Louis idly wonders if this is about to become some sort of Gay Coming of Age story.

Maine to California in ten days. In which Zayn’s an open-shirt hippie they meet somewhere in Ohio, Liam’s the pastor’s son running away from home, and Niall’s the number they call on the bathroom wall.

It’s 1978. Harry and Louis are just trying to get to San Fran in time for the Queen concert.

No One Like You by myownspark / @myownsparknow

Dear Niall,

I was glad to have the chance to talk with you again at the AHA conference. Your idea that the Musee D’Orsay Tomlinson painting is in fact not a self-portrait is an intriguing one, and I may have discovered something that will have a bearing on that theory.

Some background: as you may remember, I’ve been researching for a book I’m writing about Harry Styles. I’ve been in communication with Styles’ last living descendant, who is in possession of a trunk that her family believed to have belonged to Styles himself. It held some personal items she presumes to be his, including two unmounted paintings and a small collection of letters.

Upon spending the last few days in Provins studying these items, I believe there to be a connection between Tomlinson and Styles, and I would very much like your opinion.

Are you up for a trip to France?

Sincerely, Liam Payne

Where Liam and Niall are art historians discovering the truth about two nineteenth century painters on opposite sides of an artistic divide.

The Man Who Saw The Devil by @metal-eye

"The Devil was staring at him.

"Louis shifted slightly in his seat and scratched the back of his neck, picking up his program and reading the title of the play again: L’homme qui a vu le Diable.

"He was wearing a satin red suit, one that certainly stood out amongst the usual greys and blacks of other Paris theatres, and instead of merely appearing the two times that the main character summoned him, this Devil followed the other men around on stage as they spoke and played cards. He kept looking over their shoulders and mocking their awkward movements, jerks and twitches compared to his own lithe prowl. The theatre audience, most readily impressed by gruesome effects and sensationalism, couldn’t take their eyes off him.

"Neither could Louis."

Paris, 1912. Louis is a frequent patron of the Theatre du Grand Guignol. Harry is a performer. Tonight he's playing the Devil.

The Case Of The (Definitely Not Haunted) Styles Mansion by Anonymous

“So there’s a sense of humor buried beneath all that condescension, huh?” Louis said when he’d stopped laughing.

“It’s not condescension, it’s intelligence. I understand you might not be able to recognize it yourself,” Marcel said, then slapped a hand over his mouth. “Oh god, I’m sorry.”

Louis stepped closer, his eyes on Marcel’s face. “For being an asshat?”

“For being rude,” Marcel said, from beneath his palm.

Louis shifted a half-step closer until he was at the very edge of Marcel’s personal space. It felt like he was nudging at it, asking to be let in. Marcel flushed hot for no reason.

“Lucky for you it takes quite a lot to actually insult me,” Louis said taking one step closer. Too close. Too close.

Marcel met Louis’ eyes. Those blue eyes that reminded Marcel of poetry instead of science, lyrics instead of formulas. They were so pretty he wanted to drown in them.

---

Or the Nancy Drew AU where Marcel is a man of logic, Louis is a private detective who believes in ghosts, and the Styles Mansion is definitely, absolutely, positively *not* haunted.

Through Eerie Chaos by MediaWhore / @mediawhorefics

For as long as anyone can remember, Old Hillsbridge Manor has always been believed to be haunted. Everyone in the village agrees and keeps a respectful, fearful, distance. New in town after a bad breakup and an internship that led to disappointment rather than a permanent job, Harry Styles figures taking pictures of the decrepit building could be a great new creative project. Or at least a much-needed distraction while he searches for a job and crashes at his parents’ new house. No one warned him about the apparitions though; about the music, the laughter, the people who flicker and vanish when you call after them, the echoes of a past that should be long gone… Harry has never believed in spirits but even he can admit that there’s something weird going on. What starts as mere curiosity evolves into a full-blown investigation and soon enough, Harry finds himself making friends with an aristocrat from the 1920s and struggling with finding the best way to tell him that he’s dead.

The Ghost Hunter AU where Niall lives to prove ghosts are real, Zayn is a skeptical librarian and Harry gets caught up in a century-old mystery and catches feeling in the process.

We’re What’s Right In This World by BriaMaria / @briannamarguerite

“Why did you talk like that in Brighton? If you weren’t planning on ever telling me?” Louis asked. “Is it because you think you’re going to die?”

“It’s war, Lou,” Harry said finally.

The words were a knife slipped between his ribs. Everything hurt and he was bleeding. He shifted up, his palms cradling Harry’s jaw, his lips against his boy’s. Not kissing, just resting there, so Louis could feel him. “Promise you’ll come back to me.”

Harry’s hands smoothed down the sides of Louis’ body. “You know I can’t do that. I’ll never lie to you.”

“Promise me. We’re going to have our cottage. And our dogs. And our breakfast in the garden where nothing grows because of the wind from the sea. Promise me.”

“I won’t.” Stubborn as always, his boy. “I’ll promise you, I’ll love you all my life. I’ll promise you, you’ll never leave my thoughts. I’ll promise you, you’re my forever and my always. But promising you something I can’t cheapens the things I can.” ---- Or the World War II AU where Harry goes off to fight and all Louis wants to do is be the boy who brings him home.

Paint The Sky With Stars by kiwikero / @icanhazzalou

On 10 April 1912, Harry Styles boards the finest ship the world has ever seen. Still grieving the death of their mother, he and his sister are being sent to America to live with a callous uncle who cares more about his business connections than family. Harry prepares himself for a long, disappointing voyage alone in his stateroom.

Louis Tomlinson has borrowed and saved, and finally has enough to purchase a Third Class ticket to America. With all of his belongings in a single ruck sack, he boards the Titanic filled with hope for a brighter future. Never one to sit still, he can’t resist exploring the massive ship, and soon goes sneaking into First Class in a stolen steward’s uniform.

By a twist of fate, Louis finds himself in Harry’s stateroom, entranced by the most attractive man he’s ever laid eyes on. He keeps returning day after day, even if he doesn’t understand what it is about Harry that continues pulling him in. That’s all right; Louis has a week to figure it out, and Harry is plenty willing to help.

Except they don’t have a week. They have four days. Because on 15 April, their entire world will be turned upside down.

Or, the historically accurate Titanic AU with a happy ending.

Say Hallelujah, Say Goodnight by @alivingfire

Louis is an angel who is just a little too bad to be good, Harry is a demon who is just a little too good to be bad, and they're both a little too in love to be impartial when angels and demons go to war.

Louis has been alive since life was a mere concept; he watched the summoning of Man into existence, he was there when Eve took the apple. He’s seen seas break the world into separate pieces, he’s watched empires crumble into dust. He’s seen wildfire consume cities, he’s seen the world painted white with snow. He has known the most beautiful humans to walk the planet, he has watched the most powerful mortals gather their riches and influence around them and then die just like the poorest, weakest humans do. He’s met humans whose motives defy explanation, people who use their lives as battering rams, as tools, as weapons, as chess pieces.

None of that stopped Louis in his tracks.

But Harry did.

If you haven’t read Butterfly Gun and you can find someone who has it downloaded (it’s been deleted), read that...it’s set in the 1940′s if I recall correctly and it’s beautifully written.

I haven’t read this one yet, but it was highly recommended to me. It’s a WIP, but the writing is apparently is finished:

Victorian Boy by DonnaHaywardsHead

Victorian AU. Harry the virgin Duke of Somerset knows little of love, while Louis the sly Duke of Warwick knows too much. When the two dukes come together for the Bilsdale fox hunt in York, Harry finds himself drawn into Louis' bed. But when secrets from Louis' dark past come to light, Harry fears that the fox isn't the only one being hunted.

This is another I haven’t had a chance to read but friends told me is wonderful:

Back To You And Tennesee by rippedgloves

Louis Tomlinson rises to rock and roll fame at age twenty three and is thrown into a life of luxury and excess, but being on stage isn’t easy for a boy who has always stuck to the side-lines, and Louis struggles to deal with his new fame as he joins the Grand Ole Opry and is sent out on tour with names like Liam Payne and Elvis Presley. His life takes a turn, however, when his childhood role model, Harry Styles, joins them on tour, and the two become closer than two men in the spotlight are allowed to be.

OR, the one where Louis is Johnny Cash and Harry is June Carter

#my fic rec #mine #larry fic rec #historical au

222 notes · View notes

lindsaywesker · 2 years

Text

Good morning! I hope you slept well and feel rested? Currently sitting at my desk, in my study, attired only in my blue towelling robe, enjoying my first cuppa of the day. Welcome to the working week! Although, for those of you in the NHS, welcome to just another day!

Now, that was a cracking weekend! I had not two grandkids in here but three! Can’t believe I forgot to take a selfie! They promise they are coming back soon. Next time, I will get that photograph! Couldn’t even take a selfie of me and The Mighty Josiah because he got an elbow in the eye and looks pretty beaten up!

Many thanks to everyone that listened to my radio show on Saturday. Big fun! Thank you for all your kind words and comments. The Letter E (Pt. 4) this Saturday at 1.00 p.m.

I wasn’t a fan of his music but, nevertheless, I was sad to hear that Meatloaf had passed away. Cause of death: Covid-19. Not only was he not vaccinated against Coronavirus but he was quite an active anti-vaxxer. He’s quoted as saying he didn’t like to be “controlled”. So, how come none of his obituaries are mentioning his cause of death, that he was unvaccinated and a vociferous anti-vaxxer? I wonder why? Maybe because the media don’t want us to learn from Meatloaf’s mistakes? Which begs the question: why don’t the media want us to learn from Meatloaf’s mistakes? As I’ve mentioned before, the PM really doesn’t give a toss if another 150,000 working class people die. I wonder why? Fewer Labour voters, maybe?

Peaked? Weekly hospital admissions in England for children aged between 6-17 years old has hit a new record: 352 Covid-19 hospitalized in one week; the worst numbers since the beginning of the pandemic and 2.3 times worse than last winter’s record. In fact, No. 10 has insisted on the removal of masks in schools. I rest my case!

If you don’t think Johnson’s trying to starve you and/or freeze you, wait until you get your April pay packet! Yes, not only has the cost of food and the cost of energy gone up but the Tories very quietly increased your National Insurance contributions by 1.25p in the pound, an increase of 10.4%. And, because they think we’re gullible and stupid, they’ve actually put on the government website, “This will be spent on the NHS and social care in the UK.” Of course it won’t! The Tories will give that money to their friends and relatives!

Another busy week ahead! I don’t even need to go on walks these days. It’s almost a mile to Willesden Junction (and back), then 1.2 miles from Highbury & Islington Station to Penn Street (three times a week!) My limbs are loose! No wonder my skin is glowing and I sleep so well!

Have a marvellous and momentous Monday. I love you all.

#mixcloud #mi soul #dj #lockdown #new blog #music #coronavirus #weekend

0 notes

lunam00na · 3 years

Text

An Unlikely Affair: Chapter 1 - The Letter

“It’s been three years since I last saw Genny.” Amélie thought as she turned the rolled piece of parchment scrawled with black ink lettering over in her hands. Three years since she had seen her last living family member, and closest friend. She inhaled and exhaled a harsh breath before peeling away the wax seal from the parchment, then unrolling it. The letter read;

……..

Dearest Cousin,

I hope this letter reaches you well. I am sorry it has taken me so long to write to you; I have been extraordinarily busy these days, working as the head of the kitchen. Yes, you read that right! I was promoted to head of kitchen staff some couple months ago after my superior decided it was time to retire. Since then I’ve been busy lining out my staff and giving them a proper retraining and entire new menu to learn and work with.. I’ll just say it’s been quite a mess. It’s so hard to find decent help these days, what with the state our Kingdom is in.

Anyway, I won’t drone on about that.

The reason I am writing is because an employment opportunity has become available here at the castle. The Prince himself has personally requested that I hire someone from my own family, as I have proven myself reliable and hardworking. There are.. various.. roles you will be required to perform, but for now the main title can be chambermaid. I will explain more when you arrive here at the palace, should you choose to accept. I strongly encourage you to take this opportunity; it could make a great difference in not only your life, but for the lives of everyone in this city.

On the back of this parchment are instructions for you to follow, if you take the job. I really do hope to see you soon, Amélie. I’ve missed you so much.

- Genny

……..

She gasped in disbelief; one hand clasped the parchment while the other flew over her parted lips. Her heart beat fiercely against her ribcage, and she felt a bit lightheaded. After a few moments to grasp the concept of what was happening, she folded the letter and tucked it away safely in her apron. “How is this possible?” she wondered, finding her feet and hurrying down the muddy dirt road towards the slum she had been living in.

There were other people walking along the road, though she paid them no mind, and it had started to lightly rain. Heavy clouds and grey skies hung above the city; it was going to storm. It seemed like Grimshores had a permanent dark cloud hanging over it in recent years. But, with the letter from Genny burning brightly in her mind, nothing would dampen her mood now.

Once she reached her tiny shed of a home, with its dilapidated wooden walls and leaky roof, she rushed inside, not even stopping to take off her muddy boots. Quickly, she lit a candle and sat it on the small wooden table in the corner of the room. She sat on the chair adjacent to the table, and it creaked in complaint. Amélie drew the letter from her apron and this time she flipped it over to the back, reading the instructions her cousin had left her.

April 24th

Midnight

Beneath the bridge, east of town.

Come alone, bring no belongings.

“April 24th..” she repeated to herself for a moment. Her pale blue eyes widened with shock, “That’s tonight!” The mail was probably meant to arrive sooner, but with the chaos going on in the Capital right now, it’s no surprise it just now arrived. She wouldn’t even have time to think it over. She tapped her foot nervously, running a hand through her dirty blonde hair and letting the words sink it. Her cousin had mentioned she would be doing various jobs.. Amélie was curious what she meant by that. Did it have some hidden meaning? And not only that, but the part about changing the lives of everyone in the city. What was going on? There was surely something happening behind the scenes, and Amélie supposed she was going to find out what.

She would be stupid not to accept her cousin’s offer, especially considering the Prince himself had requested a member of the Waters family.. Amélie left the letter to rest on the table and took a good look at her surroundings. A sad little shack of a home, falling farther into shambles with each passing of the seasons.. A small straw bed pressed against the wall.. An empty kitchen with not a crumb of food in sight. She frowned, recalling her own unhappiness here in this “house”. She had been alone for three years.

With her parents and Aunt Lyssa both dead, and Genny working at the palace, there was nobody here for her. No reason for her to stay, unless she wanted to continue starving and barely scraping by. Even more reason to leave was the growing outcry from the residents of the city. Crime was at an all time high, and it was becoming increasingly dangerous for everyone who lived here. Thievery was taking away many of the scarcely available jobs around town, as people could no longer afford to stay open when their shops kept being broken into and robbed.

Women were being forced into prostitution rings as a means of income, and many times that ended in their own violent death. Amélie had only managed to stay away from those people because she was extremely cautious and always carried some type of hand made weapon with her for her own defense. It wouldn’t be much longer before the situation reached a boiling point; war was coming soon.

“Well.. It seems I have no better option,” she spoke softly and swallowed a lump in her throat, “I’m going to the palace.”

#writing

0 notes

pureimagineering · 6 years

Text

In Drawing the Line, Tom Sito documents the first day of the Disney Animators' Strike.

When Walt Disney turned his car on to Buena Vista Boulevard, he found the entrance to his studio choked with a crowd of three hundred picketers. Every couple of feet artists stood on soapboxes and made angry speeches to knots of cheering picketers and scribbling reporters.

Colorful hand-painted signs bobbed up and down in the clear blue skies of Burbank: "Disney Unfair," "One Genius vs 600 Guinea Pigs," "We Had No Scabs at Schlesinger's," "Leonardo, Michelangelo and Titian Were Union Men," and a picture of Pluto with the title "I'd Rather Be a Dog Than a Scab!"

Later accounts of this event stated that Walt Disney was surprised, or shocked when he saw the picket line. This hardly seems credible since he must have been aware of the guild strike vote on May 26 [three days before the Strike began], and he was in strategy meetings with Bank of America attorneys on May 27 about a potential labor action. An internal memo from [lawyer Gunther] Lessing mentioned that as early as April 7 the studio anticipated a strike.

If Walt was shocked, it must have been the surprise of a man in deep denial about his situation. Standard tactics in union negotiations are threats, bluff, and counterbluff. Maybe he was confident that despite all the bluster from [union negotiators] Sorrell and Babbitt, in the end his people, his boys and girls, would never actually do something like this to him.

Although more than two-thirds of the artistic staff signed representation cards, only half actually walked out on strike. The numbers are debatable, but out of 1,293 employees, 600 artists and the rest clerical and support staff, perhaps 373 went out on strike. [...]

Lessing made Disney believe it was even fewer, which may have influenced Walt's decision to tough it out. The attorney cockily assured Walt the strike wouldn't last twenty-four hours. Walt broke out a few bottles of Harvey's Bristol Cream, and all toasted a quick resolution.

While management celebrated inside, the employees approaching the Buena Vista gates had to make a choice they would remember the rest of their lives. Regardless of personal politics, this had all become the real thing.

Should you go out and picket, risking unemployment and blacklisting during the Depression? Or cross the picket line, go in to work, and earn the lasting hatred of your friends?

The more artists who refused to work, the better the union's chances of shutting down production to force a compromise. The more people who went in to work, the greater the chances that the studio would hold out until you and your family starved. Then, with your bank account empty, you would slink back in and beg for your job back.

This was the choice that now confronted every Disney worker. Imagine walking through a shoving, seething mob that was yelling, "Scab! Commie! Don't go in! Join the line, brother! Traitor! Fink!"

All the artists who became known as the Nine Old Men--Frank Thomas, Ollie Johnston, John Lounsbery, Marc Davis, Ward Kimball, Wolfgang Reitherman, Les Clark, Milt Kahl, and Eric Larson--crossed the picket line and went back to work.

Top animator Ward Kimball was very liberal and came from a family of union sympathizers. That morning when the picket went up, he and Fred Moore argued for ninety minutes over what to do. In the end they both crossed the line. Art Babbitt said that it must have been an agonizing decision for Kimball to make.

As he walked through the gate, an assistant yelled at him, "Ward! Don't do it! The strike will fail if you go in!" Kimball growled back, "If I don't go in Dumbo won't get made and the studio will fail!" Ward's best friend, animator Walt Kelly, did go out to picket. The two were never close again thereafter. [...]

Along with the top-echelon artist-supervisors crossing the picket line in defiance of their friends were some bottom-echelon cel painters and polishers who in the end felt they couldn't afford to lose their jobs. Bill Melendez recalled, "We went out on strike to help those poor girls, and now here they were crossing the line!"

Walt forced his employees to make a choice they shouldn't have had to make. The picketers were heroes, but the scabs have my full sympathy.

#Disney Animators' Strike #Walt Disney #Cartoons #Animation #Disney

25 notes · View notes

stinkylaurie · 6 years

Text

Another Earthquake

5 April 2013 When the books danced off their shelves and toward the faded blue tile floor, the boys leapt up from their desks and, hooting at one another, pretended to surf. Cao Jin’s eyes dilated toward the whitewashed concrete ceiling, raced the perimeter of the classroom. No new cracks. As the last book crashed spine-first into the floor, spilling torn paper bookmarks across the tile, she gripped her plastic water bottle, white-knuckled, and pulled a slow, deliberate breath. With the sternest and most matronly voice in her repertoire, she ordered her pupils back into their cracked plastic chairs, chairs the seething green of the sea around Magong’s shipping harbor.

“Zuo hao!” Sit down. This is serious. What if the building were to collapse? If you’re playing around, how can we get out quickly? She heard her voice rise to a shrill siren. They are too young to remember. These boys, stewing in the musk of early puberty and unwashed, maroon-and-white middle school uniforms, they’re still laughing – laughing now at this old woman and her ridiculous fears. This exuberance is only the innocent stupidity of 12-year-old boys who will never die, will never be lost. She knows this. Still, it feels like malice toward the dead. She raps the corner of her desk, menacing them with her long wooden pointer. You, straighten that shelf. Pick up those books. You, pick up the trashcan. I don’t care if someone put a sour milk carton in there, you can wash your hands after you’re finished.

This earthquake lasted only a short time, perhaps fifteen seconds at most. Afterward, a team of teachers scouring the premises found only a handful of new cracks in the building’s plaster. Those were small. Nonetheless, Cao Jin, alone at her desk, was put off her lunch and could only pick at her noodles; the fish was overdone, too salty. The rest of the afternoon she sipped on Iron Guanyin tea through taught lips and followed the boys with steely glares. Her students, now docile, opened their texts, read aloud in quasi-unison, a cacophonous chorus. She ran a thumbnail up and down the ridges of her plastic water bottle like a mantra. She could feel the low moans of the restless Earth in her knees.

The afternoon sun fell hard and salty on the back of her neck as she strapped on her scuffed helmet and stuffed her lunch sack and some paperwork under the scooter seat, careful to keep her water bottle in the front pocket of the half-rusted moped like a talisman, like a figurehead. She set off, motor popping and sputtering black exhaust, northeast into the last of the seasonal winds. Amid the single-story block-concrete farmhouses, peanuts groveled along the sandy ground. The honeycomb windbreak walls, made of dry-stacked coral scoured by centuries of Penghu Island’s gale-force winter winds, shone white like bones, like the teeth of children. She turned north, toward Guoye, at a decrepit seaside temple where the local kids spray-paint offensive things in poorly formed characters on the molding walls and decorate what is left of Mazu’s altar with paste-up pictures of foreign women in lingerie. How lucky they are to have the chance to be foolish teenagers.

Cao Jin pulled off a ripening bunch of bananas overhanging her exterior wall and pushed open the red wooden gate. “Dad, what are you doing?”

“Inspecting the house.”

“Dad, go inside, I’ll make dinner,” she’d hate for him to fall out here in the garden while she was at work.

“Earthquake today.”

“Yes.”

“School’s OK?”

“Yes. The school’s fine.” If it weren’t, what was she, a ghost?

“It didn’t fall down.”

Cao Jin stared at him.

The old man turned into the low-slung concrete house and sank onto his bamboo-seat, mahogany-armed chair. He flicked on the TV news. Something about foreigners getting married on the island. “What tripe. This passes for news?” he grunted as if Cao Jin could do something about it. Without turning off the television, he opened the paper to the mainland news section, shaking it disgustedly at the TV.

“You want tea, Dad?”

“No.”

“I made it already,” she lied.

“Fine,” the old man grunted. “I don’t want dinner. I’m not hungry.”

“You have to eat.”

“I don’t see why, I’m not a child. I’m not hungry. I won’t eat.”

“Tian-ah, Dad, eat something.”

“Fine. Heitang gao. I’ll eat black sugar cake.”

“Dad,” Cao Laoshi stood reproving her father, knowing this thin, folded man in his crisp white shirt and meticulously oiled hair and horn-rim glasses would not be moved. “Fine, we eat together. Iron Guanyin tea and black sugar cake.” They unfolded a faintly sweet-smelling white cloth across the mahogany table in the living room to catch the crumbs and passed the evening cloaked in the staccato drone of salacious TV news from mainland Taiwan.

As the humid night overcame the island, Cao Laoshi and her father packed matching clear-and-pink-striped plastic bags with the leftover black sugar cake, some sticky rice balls, and a few dry mango slices. She tucked a plastic water bottle next to his pillow and tied his bag gently around his ankle, with a soft cloth between the plastic and the skin to prevent chafing. She then lay down in her own room and, clutching her bag and water bottle to her chest like an infant, slipped into darkness akin to sleep.

She stands before the ruins of her old house in Taichung. Her hair is thick and black and long again. A late September breeze wraps itself around her sandaled feet. A four-year-old boy and his grandmother lie trapped beneath the dust and concrete and tortured rebar of the house. Hearing them, Cao Jin transforms her body into water and she flows through the debris to find them. She collects in a red plastic bowl at her mother’s feet and the old woman reaches the bowl to quench their thirst -- first the boy’s, then her own. The rescue teams in their orange reflective jackets come swift and silent, like morning, like winter wind, to lift the mountain of crushed concrete off them before they starve.

#921 earthquake #taiwan #dreams

1 note · View note

boredbookworm · 7 years

Text

We Each Write a Letter

Decided to post the fic I wrote for the ML Ultimate Guess Who Challenged hosted by @mlficwritersanon. I had so much fun with this challenge and I hope you all enjoy!

Rating: T Themes: Fluff, Friendship, slight romance Ships: Love Square all but Ladrien cuz I was reaching word limit but that will be adding a second chapter to add the Ladrien I had planned. Word Count: 4048

Chat Noir had an idea.

"Bugaboo, when do you think you will be okay with telling me who you are under that mask?"

"When Hawkmoth is gone and there is no more danger in knowing who we are."

"What if whoever gave us our Miraculous takes them back before we get the chance to tell each other?"

"We'll find a way."

Chat Noir knew he shouldn't push the subject. Ladybug had the right idea with keeping their identities a secret from one another. There were too many risk, too much danger at the moment. But he could not stop himself from wanting to know.

"How about this? We each write a letter," Chat said.

"A letter?"

"Yeah, we each write a letter with our name and a little bit of info on ourselves. We'll give each other the letter and keep it hidden away until the day we defeat Hawkmoth. This way if we lose our Miraculous before we can tell each other, we will still have a way of knowing."

Chat Noir was honestly rather proud of his idea. It was a simple one but one that could work.

"Okay, but how will I know you won't read the letter as soon as I give it to you? There's a saying about cats and curiosity you know," she teased.

Chat had planned for this.

"We each seal the envelope in a way that's hard to recreate, you know like wax seals or a doodle along the seal so that if we tried to reseal or get a new envelope it would be obvious. Then every few months we can bring the letter with us to show we haven't broken the seal."

The smile on Ladybug's face gave him even more confidence that his plan was a good one.

"You've really thought this out. Okay, next time we meet up we'll bring a letter."

It took all he had not to jump up in joy.

"But what should we write in them?" asked Ladybug.

"How about our name, our birthday, maybe some basic info like favorite color, and an email or phone number that won't change so we can contact each other?" suggested Chat.

"I think this is a good idea."

The next time they had a chance to meet up without an Akuma attacking the city was a little less than a week later on the 22nd of February.

Chat Noir could barely contain his excitement. His lady trusted him enough to give him a letter that would have her name. He wouldn't have to worry about never finding out who she was because now he had her name in a cute pink envelope.

"When should we bring our letters to check the seal?" asked Ladybug.

"How about the first of every other month? We can start with April 1st."

"I'm fine with that, but maybe we should do it on April 2nd. I have a feeling that there's going to be an Akuma that day."

"Good point. So, April 2nd?"

"April 2nd," she confirmed.

As soon as Adrien was home in his room, he stashed the letter away in his bottom desk drawer. He made a quick note to see if he could have a lock added to that drawer. Extra security was always welcome in keeping a secret.

"You know you're going to be tempted to read that letter Adrien," said Plagg.

"I know. But I won't. This is Ladybug's trust in me and I won't betray that."

Everyone could tell that Adrien was happier than usual.

Adrien's classmates didn't know what was going on, but there was no denying that something good must have happened to him the day before. He smiled through a physics test, didn't mind taking on one of Kim's dares, and didn't even seem too bothered with Chloe's usual clinginess.

Nothing could ruin his mood.

Not even Marinette tripping on the steps and knocking him over as they made their way out of the school.

"Oh Adrien! I'm so sorry. I was reading this flier and I should have been looking at where I was going."

Adrien tried to hush her as he helped her to her feet.

"Marinette, I'm fine. Don't worry."

She continued to ramble on and about how sorry she was but Adrien was more interested in the flier she held.

"There's going to be another Ultimate Mecha Strike Tournament III?"

"What? Oh this," she pointed at the paper, "yeah Max was telling me about it. He can't make it that day and was asking if I wanted to join the tournament. I'm not sure if I'm gonna do it or not since I'm already kinda busy with some other stuff and it's another partner event so I can't go if I don't have a partner and I'm rambling now aren't I…"

"A little," he did his best not to laugh at her flustered expression, "You know, I don't mind being your partner. It's fun playing with you."

"Really?"

"Yeah, what day is it? I'll need to make sure my schedule is cleared."

"It's April 3rd, it's a Monday so the tournament is in the afternoon."

"Who schedules a tournament on a Monday? No wonder Max can't make it."

Adrien took a quick look at the calendar on his phone. His father usually scheduled big events he absolutely could not miss 3 months in advance, so see that the day had no scheduled event meant he was free for the tournament.

"Looks like I'm good, I'll just have Nathalie save the day so I don't get a last-minute photo shoot scheduled."

"Great."

Adrien looked back to his phone to check the next day he was free.

"I'm a bit busy the rest of this week and up until Monday so can we meet up next Tuesday?"

Marinette nodded quickly as she said, "Sure, that sounds great."

Out of the corner of his eye, Adrien could see the Gorilla pulling up in front of the school to take him home.

"Ah, gotta go. See you."

"S-see you."

As he entered the car, Adrien could see Marinette jumping for joy with the flier held close to his chest.

He was glad he could make his friend happy.

For the most part, Adrien had an amazing time with Marinette.

For the next four week, he either went to her house or she went to his two times a week so they could practice for the tournament.

They didn't really need to practice. Their gaming was in sync and all their practice battles had been won with ease. Even if they played against other teams online, the two of them had no trouble winning.

They just both really liked playing together.

It didn't take them long to start playing other games after a few rounds of Ultimate Mecha Strike III.

By the fifth week, practicing for the tournament had just become an excuse for Adrien and Marinette to hang out. They weren't even playing it anymore and instead decided that other games would be better at testing who is the best.

"Seriously? Blue shell?"

"You're the one that suggested Mario Kart so I'm not going easy on you."

"What if I gave you tickets to the next fashion show my father hosts?"

"As tempting as that is, my pride would be hurt too much if I were to give into a bribe."

"Fine, I give up."

Adrien pushed his chair away from Marinette and looked over at her desk. He noticed what appeared to be a work in progress Chat Noir plush doll.

"What's this?" he asked while pointing at the half-finished doll. "I thought you already made a Chat Noir doll?"

Marinette looked around as if she was making sure no one else was in the room.

"Can I tell you a secret?"

"Sure."

"He sometimes visits me."

Adrien pretended to be surprised by what he already knew, "Chat Noir visits you?"

"I don't think he goes out of his way to visit me, but every time I'm out on my balcony when he passes by, he always stops to at least say hello. I know he probably stops by whenever he sees someone but he cheers me up sometimes after a bad day. I'm making him that doll as a thank you gift."

"That's very sweet. I don't think anyone has given Chat Noir anything, unless you count the statue to him and Ladybug."

Marinette stood up and walked over to where Adrien was. She moved some of the pieces out of the way before picking up a pink spotted box. She opened it with a key a took out a green heart.

"I even made a heart for the doll. I keep it in this my box so I don't lose it."

"That's so cool Marinette."

But Adrien's attention was not on the heart she showed him, but letter that was kept under the heart. A green envelope with a black cat paw drawn over the flap of the envelope.

His letter to Ladybug.

Just then his phone rang, telling him that it was time to head home.

As soon as he reached his room, Adrien grabbed the nearest pillow and screamed into it.

"What's wrong kid?" asked Plagg as he popped out of Adrien's discarded school bag.

"I messed up," he replied. "Do you remember the letters me and Ladybug exchanged?"

"Did you open the letter like I said you would?"

"No, I saw the letter I wrote to Ladybug in Marinette's room."

"Maybe she is taking care of the letter for Ladybug," said Plagg but there was no confidence in his voice.

"Come on Plagg, you know Ladybug would never risk someone else holding on to that letter."

Adrien sighed and let himself drop face first onto his bed. Plagg floated over.

"You're going to suffocate yourself like that, then there will be no one to give me camembert and I'll starve."

Not getting a response from Adrien, Plagg decided to poke him until he groaned and lifted himself off the bed and sat normally.

"I don't know what I'm going to do Plagg. We said we wouldn't tell each other just yet and here I am knowing who she is. I don't even know how I'm going to react when I see her again."

"Well look on the bright side, tomorrow is April Fool's day and there will probably be an Akuma that will take up anytime you could have used to talk to her. You will have one more day to think things over."

"Yeah," mumbled Adrien. "One more day to figure out how to tell her."

Surprisingly, there was no Akuma on April Fool's day. Even though it was a day dedicated to causing mischief, Ladybug and Chat Noir were not needed to stop an angry citizen.

It was good for the two of them, that meant another day they could relax and not get thrown half way across Paris.

But it was bad for Chat Noir because this meant he did not have one more day to think things over like Plagg had said. At least he wouldn't have to show his letter until the next day.

They both met up at the Eiffel Tower after making their rounds across the city.

As soon as he landed besides her he said, "My Lady, what would you say if I told you I knew who you were, but I haven't opened the envelope?"

She stayed quiet for a moment before a genuine laugh filled the air around them.

"I'd say this is your worst April Fool's prank yet."

"But you've only know me for one April Fool's before this one."

"Exactly."

"Meowch, I didn't even prank you last year."

"If you had, I'm sure it would have been just as bad as your puns."

"Oh, come on," he says while nudging her with his elbow, "you know you like my puns."

"Only sometimes Chat, only sometimes."

"I'm fine with that."

They stood there quiet, simply enjoying the night and each other's company. But they couldn't stay like that for long. It was getting late.

"See you tomorrow."

"Yeah, see you…" he trails off.

Chat Noir watched her leave before sitting down to have a moment to think in peace.

As soon as she left, his guilt and nerves returned. It was easy to forget his troubles when they just talked. Her jokes and smiles made him forget. But Ladybug's absence brought it all back.

He had to tell her tomorrow.

He'd tell her as he shows her the letter, still perfectly sealed, that he knew who she was.

But when they met up the next day, he couldn't do it.

Chat Noir knew his Lady would not be mad at him for finding out. She was an understanding person and would most likely find a way to blame herself over him seeing his letter in her room.

He wasn't scared of her being angry at all.

He feared his Lady being disappointed in who he was.

He didn't have a real reason as to why he felt she would be disappointed in him. It was more of an irrational fear that came with caring so much about someone. The last thing he wanted was to have her not like who he was without his mask on.

And for Ladybug to know how he found out, he'd have to tell her he is Adrien Agreste.

The letter was kept in her room, a place she only invited a few friends to and Chat Noir had no reason to be in Marinette's room.

Sure, he had visited her a few times while he made his way around the city on patrol. But only when she was outside on her balcony. He might stop to talk for a bit when he saw her. She even gave him some of her hot chocolate when it was a cold night. But he had never been invited into her room.

If he didn't tell her the truth, she could easily assume that he had broken into her room and looked through her private possessions.

He couldn't tell her.

Not yet.

The next day was the Ultimate Mecha Strike III tournament and the two beat it with ease.

But if you were to ask Adrien what happened during the tournament, he wouldn't have been able to tell you a thing.

Adrien had been incredibly nervous. Not because of the tournament, but because he was spending time with Marinette. He was so worried over the chance that something he would do or say around Marinette would give him away the tournament, besides that fact that they had won, was a complete blur to him.

All Adrien wanted to do was go home and sort out his feelings, to figure out a way to tell Ladybug the truth. But he could not drop out of the tournament. He could not let Marinette down.

As soon they were done and had accepted their congratulations on winning the tournament, Adrien readied himself to tell Marinette he needed to head home.

He didn't expect to be invited to dinner.

"Dinner at your place?"

"Yeah, you don't have to come if you don't want to but my parents wanted to thank you for partnering with me. I think they also have some idea in their head that they don't feed you at your place."

He really couldn't say no to her.

"Sure, let me just call Nathalie."

Dinner with the Dupain-Cheng family was so lively that Adrien nearly forgot the secret he held. It wasn't until Marinette walked him to the door on his way out that he remembered what was making him so anxious. The silence in the car didn't help and as soon as he made it home, be ran straight for his room and locked the door.

"You okay kid? You've been so tense since you saw your letter in the girl's room."

It was nice to see Plagg concerned for him, to know someone cared, but he still felt off. There was no point in lying to Plagg.

"No, I'm not okay. I need to think."

"Want a run around the city to clear your head?"

"No asking for camembert?"

"I'm feeling generous today. Don't get used to it kid."

Adrien could tell what Plagg meant. Despite his attitude, Plagg really did care about him.

"Okay then. Plagg, Claws out."

Running around the city might not have been the best idea. It didn't take very long for Chat Noir to end up running by the Dupain-Cheng's bakery and seeing Marinette on her balcony.

Chat Noir saw two options and he didn't like either of them.

He could turn back before she sees him and pretend he didn't see her. This meant he was running away from talk about the letter again, not something he wanted to do because he needed to talk to her.

Or, he could hop over to her balcony and tell her.

Neither were good options.

He landed behind her.

"You seem really happy today."

At the sound of his voice, Marinette jumps and sprays him in the face with the water she had been using to water her plants.

"Chat! Don't sneak up on me like that. I didn't hear you at all."

"I'm going to ignore the water to the face and just take it as a complement. You know people say I'm just dripping with good looks."

"Who let you watch anime again?"

"I see you took my advice and watched Ouran."

"Yup," was her only answer before she bounces back to spraying water on her plants.

Her joy could be seen from miles away.

"So, what's got you so happy today? I haven't been around here much so what could pawssibly have made you so happy."

"I was in a gaming tournament today and won first place with my friend."

"Congratulations Princess, I'm so happy for you."

"It was a lot of fun. Even better is it gave me time to hang out with Adrien."

"Who's Adrien? A boy you like?" he teased.

"Yeah"

He froze.

"I've had a crush on him for a while but I've been too shy to really even talk to him outside of school. I feel like playing video games with him really helped us get closer."

He needed to tell her.

"Marinette? What if I told you…"

He hesitates, trying to build up the courage to tell her. But when he looks at her, the way the moonlight hits her face takes his breathe away, leaving him speechless.

"What if you told me what Chat?"

"N-nothing."

Chat's mind was racing. No matter how many times he told himself to say it, to tell her he knows, the words refused to leave his mouth.

"Chat, are you okay?"

The worry and concern in her voice could have melted him then and there.

All he could think was that she was too good for him.

Too kind, too caring, too thoughtful, too beautiful, too brave, too amazing for someone like him.

As he was lost in thought, Marinette moved closer. She studied his face for any sign of what was going on in his head.

"Chat? You're starting to worry me."

Pulled from his thoughts, Chat Noir responds, "I'm fine, it's nothing, just a lot on my mind lately."

"You can tell me anything, I can keep a secret and it's not like if anyone will believe me if I tell them you peed yourself in public or something."

Her joke managed to get a small laugh out of him, "I know. I just don't know how to say things sometimes."

"I'm here if you need anything. It's the least I could do for you considering all you've done for me."

"Oh, and what have I done for you?"

"You mean besides saving me, my friends, and all of Paris from Hawkmoth?"

"But that's something I do for everyone, I'm a superhero after all. What have I done for you?"

Marinette pauses before pointed at him then herself, "This, you stopping to visit every now and then is something you've done for me. Superheroes protect the city but they don't have to make friends with the people they've saved."

In that moment, all he could think about was how much he did not deserve to even know someone as kind as Marinette.

He just needed to let it out.

Now.

"Marinette, what if I told you I didn't visit every person that I see when I'm out? That you're the only person I stop for? That I'm in love with you?"

She froze. A strained laugh left her lips.

"Very funny Chat, don't you know that April Fools was two days ago."

"I'm not joking."

"Are you just saying this because I said that I liked someone else."

Chat Noir hadn't expected things to go smoothly but he didn't like how it was turning out.

"No, I was planning on telling you either way. That's why I came tonight."

"But you like Ladybug."

"I know."

That's when it clicked.

"You weren't joking on April Fool's day."

"No," said Chat Noir.

The silence that followed his words was almost deafening. Marinette had to fill that silence.

"How did you find out?"

Before he could even open his mouth to respond she says, "Wait! I don't want to know."

"You don't?"

"Well," she said, "I know you didn't read the letter, and I trust that you didn't try to figure me out by following me. It was all an accident, wasn't it?"

"Yeah, it was."

"Then I don't need to know and we can leave it at that. If you tell me that you saw me somewhere or I said a certain thing that tipped you off, it might help me figure out who you are."

"What if I want to tell you who I am?"

"Chat you know we can't, it's dangerous enough with you knowing who I am."

"I'm fine with the danger."

"But I'm not!"

Both Chat Noir and Marinette are surprised that she raised her voice at him.

"Sorry… I didn't mean to yell. I care about you Chat, I don't want you in anymore danger than you already are just being Chat Noir."

"I don't get why it's so dangerous for us to know. If we are careful not to let Hawkmoth take control of us, we won't have anything to worry about. It's not like we are going to turn against each other."

"I know but can we just keep this reveal one-sided, for now at least? It's not that I don't want to know, I do, I just don't want to risk anything."

"You're so stubborn, but I understand."

"Thank you Chat."

He took her hand and kissed the back of her knuckles. "Anything for you Princess."

He dropped his hand but she didn't let go. They simply stayed like that for a moment, letting everything sink in. Running the words he had spoken earlier through his head, Chat realized he said something implied he originally only visited because he knew she was Ladybug.

"Oh, in case I may have confused you earlier, I didn't know you were Ladybug when I first started coming by. I only found out recently."

"Then why did you start coming by?"

"Because I liked your company."

She didn't say anything in response, instead leaning against him with their hands still together.

Chat Noir was sure he was dreaming.

"I should go before it gets too late."

"Before you go."

Marinette races back into her room leaving Chat alone for a moment before popping up from the trap door with something hidden behind her back.

"I have something for you."

"What is it?" he asks despite having a pretty good idea of what it is.

She handed it over to his so he could see. "It's a Chat Noir doll."

He knew she was making it for him, but seeing the end product really touched his heart.

"Thank you Princess."

He took a risk and planted a kiss to her cheek.

"Goodnight."

And he was off before she could react, but at least he saw her face go red.

He was coming by tomorrow to see his Princess no matter what.

#Miraculous Ladybug #ml fanfic #Marinette Cheng #Chat Noir #Adrien Agreste #Ladybug #Marichat #Adrienette #Ladynoir #Plagg #Miraculous: Tales of Ladybug and Chat Noir #my fic

150 notes · View notes