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blossom-hwa · 3 years

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Brave - CHAN

I honestly still can’t believe I’ve finished this? There was a time I didn’t think I’d get to writing this fully until 2021 lmao?? And now it’s the longest fic in the whispers of nature series I need to go lie down

Dedicated to @wingkkun because screaming to Kai was like 95% of the reason I wrote this so fast <3 I also appreciate your fanart SO MUCH you are the entire reason tbz has such a presence in this fic!!

(reposted for... the second time without gifs AND links if it doesn’t work I'll cry)

Pairing: Chan x fem!reader

Genre: fluff, angst, nature spirit!au

Triggers: mild descriptions of violence (nothing graphic)

Word Count: 12.9k

Through tears, heartbreak, and a bit of love, Chan teaches you how to be brave once again.

SKZ Masterlist | Whispers of Nature

Red is simultaneously a color of love and a color of death. It is the color of passion, the color of a bride’s dress and the roses she carries down the aisle, but also the color of blood seeping slowly out of an open wound.

Right now, watching the wedding, surrounded by pale red flowers and silks and draperies, you feel as though you’re sitting at a funeral.

Your dress isn’t red, of course. No matter how much you wish you could leave the elegant hall and run away forever, you wouldn’t disrespect the bride in such a fashion. Not only is she the crown princess of your kingdom, she is also kind, a gentle, intelligent, bright woman who will be a brilliant queen when she is crowned tomorrow.

No wonder she is the love of your best friend’s life.

Something in you itches to just start screaming, to draw your sword and ruin the festivities. But you have no sword, only a sparkling ivory gown chosen by the kind princess herself. Today, as Jacob said, you are here as a friend. Not as a knight, not as a guard, not as a protector. A friend.

Somehow, that word feels so much worse than a cold “protector” would.

The dress is shimmering white, pale and beautiful, dotted with small crystals that shimmer like clouds and stars. It should make you feel lighter than air, light with happiness for your best friend and the woman he is marrying.

But the soft fabric feels cloying on your skin, heavy and strange and choking. It’s not that you can’t wear a dress – no, you’ve gone undercover many times at balls and galas as an unseen eye to protect Jacob, after he took his place as his father’s heir. It’s the situation.

This gown was made with good intentions. The heaviness in your heart has dragged those good intentions away, replacing them with dread, anger, guilt, and sadness.

At the altar, somewhere simultaneously very close and very far away, Jacob smiles at his bride-to-be, holding her soft hands between his rougher ones, reciting the vows that will bind them for the rest of their lives. You stifle the urge to place your hands over your ears.

Oh, spirits.

He says the word “love,” and you have to fight the visceral flinch that threatens to tear through your body.

His bride’s words are not quite as painful as his. You didn’t know her as well as you knew him (does she know his favorite color is burgundy, a red between scarlet and purple, the color of roses on the darkest night?), so her vows don’t sting as much. But there’s pain just the same – throbbing, subtle, never harsh but ever present.

The neckline of your dress feels too hot against your skin.

With sick dread, you listen to her voice taper away, see the trembling smile on her face as she stares into the face of the nobleman’s son. Jacob stares back with all the stars of the sky in his eyes.

(Did he never notice that you looked at him the same way?)

The priest takes their hands, guides them through the “I dos.” They are a radiant couple, pure red covering pale skin and silky hair.

Your heart, smothered in innocent white cloth, cries.

The priest’s next words ring through your head, rattling around your mind with a force to rival the club that gave you last year’s concussion. “You may kiss the bride,” you hear, muffled as though he is speaking through water.

The red-covered couple leans in close. One of Jacob’s hands cups her cheek almost reverently, while the other gently grasps her fingers. He looks at her like she hung the moon that illuminates the red roses of his night.

You’re a knight. You’re one of the Guard. You’re brave, courageous, able to face down any foe without hesitation, ready to fight to the death for your country and the people that you love.

As their lips touch, you close your eyes.

(You’re a coward.)

. . . . .

Your boots echo loudly on the hard marble floor. As you approach the throne, the large, wooden doors swing shut behind you with a soft thud. You sink to your knees, head bowed.

“Rise,” your queen says, her voice lilting and sweet and perfect in the shining chamber. Her king consort, your best friend (is he still your best friend? You aren’t quite sure), sits by her side.

Respectfully, you stand, careful to hide any vestiges of pain on your face. It’s been several months since the wedding, and you’ve gone back to the Crown’s Guard, assigned to protect the king and queen and train the guards for their duties.

The metal of your armor, though heavier than the ivory dress that still hangs in your closet, feels lighter on your body. It is protection, from swords and words and emotions.

“We received the request for your leave of absence,” the queen says. Her eyes convey the perfect amount of sadness and wisdom. “We would be sorry to see you go.”

Jacob looks at you beseechingly. He wants you to change your mind, to stay as his friend and protector. Your mind tells you that you should stay – after all, you know little of the other kingdoms, of the lands you have decided to travel and explore. Staying in the country you know best is the safest option, for you and for the royal family.

But your heart tells you to go, and on this matter, you will listen. You wouldn’t be able to live here long, watching Jacob and his queen rule happily together for the rest of your days. You wouldn’t be able to stomach seeing their children romp around, watching them dance together at balls, hearing the cries of the common folk singing praises of the royal couple.

“However, though it pains us to see such a trusted member of the Guard gone, it is your life, and we wish for you to live it to the fullest.” The queen smiles gently, holding out a folded letter. “This contains a copy of your signed request, as well as a letter of recommendation to any future employer you may seek.”

She’s kind. So kind. Your throat closes up as you take the letter, and you can barely choke out a “thank you, Your Majesty.”

“And do remember,” Jacob adds, “that you will always have a place in our guard, should you choose to return.”

“I thank you for your kindness, Your Majesties.” You bow low, touching your hand to your head in a gesture of utmost respect. “I, too, am sad to go. However, I do not doubt that I leave you in very capable hands.” A ghost of your usual smirk appears on your lips. “And I am sure, Your Majesty, that the King Consort has enough skill to keep the two of you safe.”

The queen, being the wonderful lovely woman she is, chuckles slightly. “If he was taught by you, I am sure he will.” She smiles. “We wish you the best, Protector of the Crown.”

. . .

Jacob catches up to you later, just as training has finished for the day. As you bid goodbye to the last recruits, he enters through the back door. You recognize his footsteps and put on a smile as you turn around.

“I could’ve been an attacker, you know,” he says, slipping into the easy banter you’ve established over a decade of friendship.

“You think I don’t recognize your footsteps by now?” The smile stays on your face more easily now, not because the pain is any less, but because you’ve had more practice.

A short silence hangs in the air. Sweat from your hair drips onto your leather tunic, while not a speck of dust lies on the rich silk that clothes your best friend. It reminds you of how far apart you are now.

“Is there really no way I can persuade you not to leave?” Jacob finally asks. His mouth is downturned in the slight pout you’ve grown to love, while his eyes hold the hope that made you fall.

Your mind screams yes. Your heart shouts no.

“Not this time, Cobi.” The nickname slips out before you can even think. “I’ve made my decision. It’s time for me to go.”

Jacob sighs. “Could you at least tell me why?”

You could. Speaking words isn’t as hard as other people think it is. It’s just that once you say them, you can never take them back.

Should you tell him?

His eyes are earnest. They’re honest. They want the brutal truth that you’ve grown accustomed to giving him over the years.

But the easiest lies are those that carry a hint of truth.

“I’ve never traveled.” The untruth falls easily from your lips. “Sure, I’ve gone to the countries where we were called to battle, and I was around when you had to go places for business, but I never got to really see anything. I want to explore, see the world before I’m too old.”

He doesn’t completely believe you. You know that for sure. You can see it in the downturned quirk of his lips, the suspicion as he blinks, but he knows better than to question it. He knows you would tell him everything if you could.

(This time, you can’t.)

“And here I was, thinking I could find you someone in court to repay you for all you’ve done for me.” Jacob smiles, completely unaware of how his words are stabbing holes into your heart. “Visit, all right? You’ll always be welcome here.”

You can almost hear your heart shattering, the pieces breaking off bit by bit as they fall to the floor. But you smile. “I’ll try,” you say, because here you won’t lie and say that you will. You won’t give your best friend, the love of your short life, a promise you may not be able to keep. “I’ll try.”

He hugs you, staining his silken shirt with the sweat of your tunic. You hesitate a moment, then fall into the embrace, taking a final comfort in the strength of his arms. It hurts, but it’s a memory. And even though you want to escape, you don’t want to forget Jacob. Ever.

“I’ll see you off when you go,” Jacob says when you break apart. “Tell me when, all right?”

Should you tell him? you wonder. Will him seeing you off do anything but hurt you more?

It won’t. But your pain means little in the face of Jacob’s, not when you’ve already hurt him so much with your desire to leave. You’ve injured him enough. “I will,” you promise.

Later that night, you wonder if you should have told him the true reason you were leaving. You wonder if you should have confessed everything, laid your heart bare and told him how much he truly means to you.

No, you eventually decide. You’re glad you didn’t. Better to not ruin his happiness with his wife or his remaining memories of you.

(Or maybe you were just too scared to tell him.)

. . .

You set out early in the morning, just as the sun is beginning to peek over the horizon. A part of you hoped that Jacob would be too tired to send you off, but you knew he could never do that. He cares for you.

Just not in the way you care for him.

He meets you at the stables, where you’re outfitting your favorite horse for the journey. In his loose tunic and trousers, it almost feels like the two of you are in your teens again, waking early to train for your positions in the Guard.

Those were the good days, you think. There wasn’t a worry in the world besides making it past the next test. Jacob’s father wasn’t dead, and he didn’t have to leave the Guard to take over his household’s duties. Meanwhile, you had no idea of your feelings. There was no heartbreak.

Better times.

Words aren’t necessary, not this morning. Jacob helps you saddle your horse and store your belongings in silence. If he notices you stiffening – just barely, mind you, you’re much better at hiding it now – when his fingers brush against yours, he doesn’t say anything.

When everything is finished, you linger for a moment more. It hits you that you’re really leaving the place and the people you’ve called home for so long with no intention of coming back.

Jacob’s eyes are sad but tinged with hope when he finally speaks. “You’ll always be welcome here, you know that, right?”

Your chest tightens. You know he’s asking, one more time, for you to stay.

Last chance to tell him, you think. Last chance to clear the air.

But you’re still a coward.

“I know,” you reply. “But I have to go, Jacob.”

He doesn’t ask you why, not this time.

You wrap him in a hug, one last hug before you set off forever. A piece of your heart shatters when he puts his arms around you, squeezing your body to his in that secure, soft hold that’s just so him. So caring, so sweet, so Jacob.

It takes all of your effort not to cry.

“Safe travels, Y/N,” he says as you swing yourself onto the horse. His eyes sparkle. You know he’s holding back tears, too.

You give him one last smile, imprinting the memory of his voice saying your name in your mind. “Thank you, Jacob.”

When you ride away, you only look back once. Jacob smiles in the distance, hand raised in farewell. A small tear on his cheek barely glints in the morning sunlight.

You wave back.

. . . . .

Travel is liberating, truly – though you loved being a knight, there’s something so free about not wearing armor all the time, not having everyone recognize you as one of the Crown’s Guard. You don’t have to listen to anyone, you don’t have to watch out for constant danger. You don’t have to worry about anyone, now, but yourself.

There’s a little guilt in this pleasure, as well as some unease. It’s strange not to follow the strict routine you’ve held yourself to for over a decade, and it’s even weirder not to have someone you are charged to protect.

Well, you have to protect yourself, you guess. But that just… doesn’t come as naturally.

You eventually force yourself stop thinking about it. Thoughts like these weigh down your mind and take away from the joys of exploration, you firmly remind yourself. So you content yourself with roaming small towns and villages, meeting the people, picking up new skills with which to make a living.

(You never knew you were so bad at cooking, but at least you get better.)

The spirits treat you kindly for the first few years. The money from your work as a knight keeps you afloat as you learn to make a new living (you avoid using the queen’s letter – that would draw attention, and you don’t want any of that now), and when that runs out, you put your newfound abilities to use wherever people care to pay you for them.

It’s not a rich existence. Nothing is certain in this life, not the way it was when you lived in the palace barracks and your basic needs were always met. Here, you can rely only on yourself for food and water and shelter.

But it’s enough. Everywhere you go, you meet new people – rich and poor, rude and kind – and it only enhances your wonder at the world around you. Truly, you think, you lived in a bubble before. Now, even though you’re poorer, you can see everything your eyes glanced over as a knight.

(And if you sometimes miss Jacob’s warm smile, even if it never spoke of love as deep as yours, it doesn’t matter. You’ve made your decision. You won’t go back.)

It isn’t like you’re losing your fighting skills, either. You still have your sword, something you refuse to part with no matter how little money you have. There’s plenty of danger – bandits, thieves, rich boys who think they own the streets – and as such, plenty of opportunities for you to keep your senses sharp.

It’s after one of these fights that you meet the moon child, Changbin. He appears in the dark alley after you’ve knocked the last man out and takes concern with the bleeding wound on your upper arm.

“I’m fine,” you try to tell him as he firmly guides you away from the alley and towards a dark patch of trees. “I’m fine – hey, please let go of me.”

Hearing the urgency in your voice, he drops your arm. Your hand immediately goes to the sword at your hip. “Where are you taking me?” you snap, eyes flickering toward the trees.

He reddens. “I’m so stupid,” he mutters to himself, rubbing his forehead. “I stay in the woods,” he explains. “If you’ll let me take you there, I can help you clean your wound.”

Your eyebrows furrow. “You stay in the woods?” you repeat, incredulous. “Why –”

A breeze shifts his hair away from his ear, revealing a pure white flower dangling from a slim chain, glowing in the moonlight.

A moon child.

Oh.

In all of your years of traveling, you never thought you would truly meet a spirit.

“My Lord,” you say, dropping hastily to your knees. “I’m sorry I didn’t recognize you earlier.”

“Please, none of that.” The moon child tugs you back up, looking distinctly uncomfortable. “I’m just a moon child, none of the ‘my Lord’ stuff. My name is Changbin.”

Changbin doesn’t turn out to be a bandit masquerading as a moon child, thankfully, so you allow him to clean your wound in his makeshift hut in the middle of the trees. He introduces himself fully as a wanderer. Not a traveler, he clarifies, because travelers roam the world for pleasure. He does it out of necessity.

(The look of desolation in his eyes convinces you not to ask.)

He becomes your companion for months, nearly a year, walking with you from city to city until he decides to part ways in a small village near a forest. By that time, you’re sad to see him go – he’s been a wonderful friend – but like Jacob never asked the reason for your departure, you honor Changbin’s desire for silence.

He does leave you with one piece of advice, “traveler’s wisdom,” he calls it (you punch him in the arm when he says that in this high, haughty voice). “Villagers will tell you that these woods are dangerous,” he says once the two of you have calmed down. “They’ll say it’s haunted by spirits. And there is danger, it’s true, but there is also safety.”

You listen carefully.

“In the heart of the woods, there is a shrine. If ever you find yourself lost or in trouble, go into the forest at the break of dawn and find the shrine. The priestesses will take you in. If you can’t find the shrine by dark, though, leave as fast as you can.” The seriousness in Changbin’s eyes tells you he isn’t joking this time. “The forest isn’t nearly as dangerous during the day as it is during the night.”

So you travel for another year, keeping Changbin’s words in the back of your mind. As you continue, though, money begins to get scarce. These villagers are more suspicious than others you’ve met and aren’t as quick to hire a newcomer, especially one so poor but who bears such a sword (you’ll never sell it, not ever). Their suspicion is understandable, but it doesn’t make anything better for you.

You’re lost, now. You sold your horse and fine clothes a long time ago, leaving you with nothing from your old life but your memories and your sword. You’ve become a wanderer, not a traveler – forced to roam for no reason other than you must.

Several times, you mull over returning to the Guard. Jacob said he would welcome you back, and the thought of a full stomach and a place to sleep almost make up your mind on the worst nights.

But even though you want to see Jacob again, want to remember his warmth and kindness, a green snake twists its way around your heart, sliding up your throat every time you think of going back to him. He’ll never accept you, not truly, the snake hisses. He’ll never love you the way you love him.

And try as you might, you can’t stomach the thought of facing him again, not when you made the choice to leave.

So you remain a coward, a blind, stupid, stubborn coward. Instead of going to a place you know, a place where you would find care and acceptance, you throw your lot into Changbin’s advice.

You decide to find the shrine.

. . .

You’re on your last coins when you finally make it back to the village where you and Changbin parted ways. As dawn breaks, you take a breath, summoning your last strength, and head between the trees.

It’s eerie, a bit, but so beautiful. As the sun rises, the sky turns a beautiful shade of blue that melds with the trees’ greenery. It almost distracts you from the fact that you legitimately have zero idea where you’re going – Changbin only told you the shrine was at the heart of the forest, nothing else. You’ve been marking your path with stones you picked up along the way, but something tells you that won’t help much if you’re being chased by… an evil spirit. Or something.

(It’s embarrassing and slightly scary to say it, but you don’t think you have the strength anymore to outrun such a spirit, much less fight one.)

Luck seems to finally be on your side, though, because after exhaustedly pushing through a crowd of bushes, you come face to face with a beautiful shrine, surrounded by wild gardens and small stone buildings.

Several young men and women – a few barely older than children – look up at the rustling of leaves. For a few moments, they stare at your undoubtedly grimy, gross face. You only stare back.

It feels like an eternity has passed before one of the young women stands and walks up, a gentle smile on her face. “Hello, traveler.”

“Hello,” you manage, voice croaking with disuse. You clear your throat, face hot. “I’m sorry for intruding. I just… I met… I don’t know if you know him, but I met a moon – a man named Changbin –”

“You met Changbin?” Her eyes take on a new intensity and a sliver of joy.

“Um, yes.” You try to smile. “He told me if I was lost and needed a place to stay, I could try to find the shrine.” Looking down at your dirty hands, you bite your lip in shame. “I’m sorry. I can leave if you want, I’ve just… I don’t have a place to stay. I can cook, clean, anything you need help with. And, um…” You hold out the remaining coins in your pocket. “I have these?”

A rough hand closes your fingers over the money. “Keep your coins, traveler.” The woman smiles widely. “Changbin would only tell a true friend about the shrine, and a friend of Changbin’s is always a friend of ours.”

As she leads you into the shrine, the only thing you feel is guilty, overwhelming, crushing relief. Relief that you won’t have to face Jacob once more. Relief that you won’t have to face your heart once more.

The mere thought of your cowardice makes you cringe.

. . .

The shrine, you learn, is a very busy place. You wake up pretty early the next day, unused to the fact that you have an actual futon now and not just the ground, but already the other two girls in the room are getting dressed. Feeling distinctly out of place, you start to follow suit.

“Oh, you don’t need to get up just yet!” One of them smiles. “You’re a guest, traveler. Take some time to rest.”

“No, it’s all right.” You smile back, hoping it isn’t as awkward as it feels. “I’ve never been able to sleep too late, and I don’t feel right intruding on your hospitality without giving something back in return. Is there anything I can help with?”

So you find yourself in the garden after breakfast, sweating under the sun with a boy around your age named Kevin. He’s cheerful. Very fun company. Somehow, he makes the monotonous task of pulling weeds enjoyable, even takes your mind off of how out of place you feel in this quaint shrine.

Walking back into the shrine after spending the day in the garden, you wave off Kevin’s offer to bring you dinner, telling him you’re going to take a shower instead. But because you’re an idiot, you forget the fact that you have no idea where the showers are.

Kevin’s already walking away, and you honestly feel too embarrassed to call after him and ask. So, ignoring the curious stares you’re garnering from the other girls and boys, you start walking in an arbitrary direction.

It’s a mistake. As the sun sets, you feel like you’ve wandered the grounds at least four times, but you can’t even find a semblance of a shower room in the whole shrine. You’re about to give up when the priestess who welcomed you walks out of a nearby building, followed by a young man with curly blond hair.

You really don’t mean to catch his eye. In fact, you’re drawing away, about to walk in the other direction, when he looks up and fixes your gaze with his. His eyes narrow.

You suddenly feel very uncomfortable.

The priestess – what was her name? Priestess Yang? You think that’s it – turns around and sees you there, immediately breaking into a gentle smile. “Oh, hello, Y/N!”

Sheepishly, you wave. “Hello, Priestess.”

“You welcomed the sword-bearer?” the man interrupts.

What?

You’re not even carrying your sword. You left it back in the room, thinking it might be viewed as a threat if you brought it around. And you’ve never seen this man in your life. So how does he know that about you?

The priestess gives him a scolding look. “Chan, the shrine welcomes those who are lost.”

“But a sword-bearer?” he – Chan – argues. “You do remember what kinds of damage they cause?”

Indignation rises in your chest. He doesn’t even know you, and he’s already making assumptions? “Hey –”

“Changbin told her to find us if she was lost,” Priestess Yang cuts in smoothly. “If Changbin can trust this sword-bearer, I’m sure you can find it in yourself to do so too, Chan.”

Chan just looks at you with undisguised suspicion in his eyes. You glare back. How dare he assume such things about your character?

“Were you looking for someone, Y/N?” Priestess Yang asks, pulling you out of your annoyance.

“Well, no.” The sheepish smile finds its way back to your face. “I was, um, looking for the showers.”

“Oh, they’re just over there! I’ll show you the way.” She pats Chan’s shoulder. “I’ll see you, Chan.”

Chan smiles briefly, then disappears into the air, leaving behind the faintest scent of grass and springtime.

The priestess laughs at the shocked look on your face. “Chan is our forest guardian,” she explains, leading you onto a dirt path. “He helps keep us safe.”

Uneasiness crawls up your spine. “Is that how he knew I had a sword?”

“Yes.” She nods. “He sees everything, knows of all those who travel the forest. It’s part of his Sight.”

A ripple of annoyance passes through your mind.

All that sight, and he couldn’t help me once? you grumble internally. Thanks a lot, guardian.

Suffice to say, even though Priestess Yang encourages you to have an open mind, your opinion of Chan isn’t the highest.

. . .

The discomfort of being the “new traveler” at the shrine stays for a week or so. By then, most of the residents are more or less used to your presence (you just ignore Chan whenever he gives you one of his suspicious looks), and you’ve carved out a small niche for yourself, taking care of the shrine children.

There are more than you expected, surprisingly. You would’ve thought the shrine was primarily made up of older teens, if anything, who could find their way here. When you mention this to Kevin, he gets a faraway look in his eye. “The shrine opens its arms to the lost,” he says in reply. “It makes itself easier to find for children, because they often can’t journey here themselves.”

“Abusive families?”

Kevin bites his lip. “Yes.”

This knowledge only makes you want to protect them more.

As much as you enjoy talking with Kevin in the garden, it’s so much easier to work with the shrine children, you find. They’re sweet and kind, if rambunctious, and you make it your duty to keep them occupied and safe while the older kids and priestesses work.

“Y/N, Y/N!” One of the older children, Yuna, comes running up one afternoon. “Priestess Jeon said you could take us into the forest for a walk!”

“Who else?” you ask. “Not just you, right?”

“Chaeryeong, Sunwoo, and Eric want to come too.” She looks at you with wide, pleading eyes. “Please?”

Your eyebrows furrow as you weigh the merits and dangers of a walk. It’s going to get dark in a few hours, so you can’t stay out long, but if one of the head priestesses agreed, it couldn’t be too bad of an idea. The kids aren’t too young, either. They’ll listen if something goes wrong.

“If you get one of the messenger boys to come, we can go,” you eventually decide. If something happens, at least you’ll be able to send someone off to get help quickly. Just in case, though, you strap your sword to your side.

Juyeon meets you with the four kids at the shrine’s entrance. Your heart sinks a little – you hoped Yuna would find Kevin – but Juyeon is pleasant enough. He returns the smile you flash at him, anyway.

The walk is uneventful, for the most part. Eric and Yuna pepper you with questions about your work as a knight while Sunwoo and Chaeryeong listen in rapture. Really, it hurts a little to talk about your life in years past, but for the kids, you’ll do it. The smiles on their faces are worth it.

When you start walking back to the shrine, though, the air changes. It doesn’t ripple right – the wind feels strange, somehow evil. Juyeon clearly feels it too, from the way his eyes are darting around the trees. With an unspoken agreement, you begin herding the kids along faster.

There’s barely a change in the wind when the thing – whatever it is – swoops down. Only the blur of a wing in the side of your vision alerts you and you shout, pushing Eric out of the owl’s range and drawing your sword.

“What the fuck is that?” you snap, brandishing your blade.

Juyeon’s face is white as he gathers the children. “Screech owl!”

“Screech owl?”

Then the thing – screech owl, you guess – dives down again, and there’s no time to talk.

“Juyeon!” you yell. “Get them out of here!”

He doesn’t argue, just herds the children together and races away. Smart boy.

You’ve never fought an opponent in the air before. It isn’t fun. The owl is fast, too fast, almost like a damn mosquito racing through the air as you try to squash it, only a million times bigger and fiercer.

Your sword slashes through the air as you duck and twist and hide behind trees, feathers fluttering to the grass all around you. Awful shrieks ring through the air and you honestly can’t tell if it’s you or the bird – all of your senses are jumbled up.

Adrenaline courses through your veins even as the sun sets further, washing the forest in pale evening light. The bird seems to take delight in the onset of night – it swoops faster, hoots louder, and is in general just a much bigger asshole than before (if that was possible).

“ARGH!” A claw slices the top of your shoulder. If I had my armor…

But you don’t, so you duck behind another tree. Think, Y/N, think, you tell yourself as you heave deep breaths. Wait, no, don’t think. Thinking gets you killed.

Just listen.

The air is still. You don’t move a muscle.

Then –

The faintest brush of wind on your left.

Your sword cuts through meat and bone, and the owl falls, dead, at your feet.

For a moment, you just stand there, gasping, staring at the blood dripping off your blade and pooling from the owl’s body.

Gross.

“Thank you.”

For not the first time that afternoon, you let out a deathly screech and leap away. Clapping a hand over your heart, you glare at the newcomer.

“… Chan?”

“That’s my name.” The forest guardian raises an eyebrow, looking faintly amused. “Thank you for killing the owl.”

You just look at him, eyebrows fully wrinkled in annoyance and confusion. “If you wanted the owl dead, why didn’t you kill it yourself? You’re the forest guardian, surely you have the power to do that much.”

“I can’t kill things just because I want to,” Chan replies. It should sound antagonistic, you think, but the look in his eyes is softer than he’s ever looked at you. Appreciative, maybe? “It would upset the forest’s balance if its guardian killed one of those who live in its domain. I can only defend the forest against those that mean it deadly harm, not those that are merely dangerous.”

Wiping your sword on the edge of your tunic, you mull that over. “But if the screech owl was too dangerous, wouldn’t that upset the balance of the forest in the end anyway?”

“We weren’t at that point yet.” Chan raises a shoulder in a half shrug. “But you killed it, so we’ll never know if that would’ve happened.”

“You make that sound like it’s a bad thing.”

He laughs. It’s a surprisingly cheerful sound – you thought it might sound like, you don’t know, someone croaking (look, you never had the greatest opinion of Chan until this point, and that’s still in the air). “I don’t think it is,” he finally says. “And I’m sorry. I was wrong about you being like all of the other sword-bearers who came to this forest. You clearly care for the shrine children.”

An apology. That’s something. Grudgingly, you force yourself to see Chan in a better light. “Apology accepted.”

For a few seconds, you just stand there, feeling the air turn more awkward by the second. “Um –”

“Do you need the way back?” Chan interrupts, a knowing glint in his eye.

By all the spirits, why did you have to meet him when you were lost at the shrine? Now he thinks you’re bad with directions, which you swear you’re really not, you just hadn’t been at the shrine long enough to figure it out.

Embarrassment creeps up your skin as Chan’s smirk grows. “… Yes.”

(And, okay, the forest guardian is a little infuriating and you find yourself wanting to hit him several times on the way back. But really, he isn’t that bad. Though you’d rather die than let him know you think that of him.)

. . .

Chan comes back the next day. You don’t expect him there, especially because he never visits the shrine more than one day in a row, but he surprises you with a smile and the offer of a walk.

“This isn’t your plan for killing a sword-bearer without anyone finding out, is it?” you ask, raising a nonplussed eyebrow as you follow the guardian out of the shrine. You’re not sure why, but it’s so easy to fall into banter with Chan the way you used to joke around with the other knights in the Guard.

Chan snorts. “As a centuries-old guardian of the forest, wouldn’t you think I’d have a little more wisdom than to kill you after several people at the shrine witnessed you leaving with me?”

You very visibly keep a hand on your sword just in case.

“So why did you invite me on a walk?” you ask after several moments. Chan’s bare feet are silent against the grass, but your boots make slightly louder thumps as you step over stones and fallen branches. “I know it wasn’t because of my scintillating personality.”

He stops walking. “I’ve heard you used to be a knight,” he says bluntly. “I wanted to know what kind of sword-bearer you were to leave such a prestigious position and even befriend Changbin, of all people.”

“What’s wrong with befriending Changbin?” you ask, desperately dodging the first part of Chan’s implied questions. “You make it sound like he hates… sword-bearers. He literally dragged me away after I beat up a bunch of men in an alley with my sword so he could clean the one wound I got on my shoulder.”

“Ah. That explains it.” Chan nods. “He saw you do good things with your blade.”

“… Yes?”

“Sword-bearers killed the girl he loved,” Chan explains. “Well, archers, really, but swords were involved.”

You swallow. That explains his wandering tendencies. “Oh. Who sent them?”

“The king of Adment.”

The title brings a scowl to your face. “Oh, him.” You spit. “That would explain it.”

Chan looks at you curiously. “You hold a grudge towards him as well?”

“He was never the friendliest to my kingdom,” is your brief reply before diverting the topic again. “So, is that also the reason you hate sword-bearers in your forest?”

“Whenever sword-bearers trespass, they almost always bring destruction.” Chan’s face turns hard. “I’ve learned not to take chances.”

The ages-old anger in his eyes speaks of a wisdom far older than the youthful form Chan takes. You narrow your eyes. “How old are you, exactly? You said centuries, but how many?”

He smirks, though there’s something weary in his gaze. “I’ve been alive for over a millennium.”

“What?”

“I can tell you more about that another day,” he says, teasing. You want to complain that he can’t leave you on a cliffhanger like that, but the sun is beginning to set, and you have things to do at the shrine. “Do you need an escort?”

You resist the urge to punch him, forest guardian or no. “I’m not that bad with directions,” you grouse. “You just caught me on a bad day. I can find my way back.”

He walks you back to the shrine anyway. And day by day, after every conversation you have, he walks you back as well.

Kevin, when you meet him in the garden, remarks that you seem more cheerful after a few weeks. “You look like you’re anticipating something exciting,” he clarifies when you only dignify him with a confused glance. His lips curl into a smirk. “Something about Chan?”

Kevin probably expects you to hit him or roll your eyes, maybe say something snappy in response. Instead, your face only drops as the meaning of his words hits you.

Do you feel something for Chan?

Well, you love to hear about his life. There are some really exciting stories he’s had after living so long. He’s also pleasant to hang around, and you enjoy talking to him.

It’s just curiosity, nothing romantic, you tell yourself. There’s no attraction. Just a slight friendship, maybe. Nothing more.

Nothing like what you felt for Jacob.

“Y/N – hey, Y/N!”

You blink to see Kevin staring at you in concern. “Are you all right? You zoned out for a minute.”

No, definitely nothing like Jacob. You try to smile at Kevin, pushing thoughts of blond hair and kind eyes out of your mind. That’s stupid – you would never let yourself be swayed so badly again. “I’m fine,” you say, hoping you’re telling the truth. “Let’s go get dinner, yeah?”

. . .

As the weeks pass, you begin to wonder just how much was truthful in what Kevin said.

Walks with Chan have become a regular occurrence, now. When he shows up at the shrine entrance every other afternoon, someone immediately calls for you.

And the worst thing is, you feel excited when you hear your name being called, when you’re with the children or scrubbing dishes or working in the garden. Everyone around gives you a knowing glance and maybe a teasing smile as you rush to see the forest guardian.

One part of you wants it. You want to be able to freely enjoy these walks, feeling the soft earth beneath your boots as you listen to Chan speak. The forest itself is interesting – he shows you the overgrown faerie ring, the water nymph’s pond and the accompanying willow tree – but you think his stories are even more intriguing. You like hearing Chan’s voice. You think you’d like to keep hearing it.

The other part of you doesn’t want this, though, doesn’t want the budding warmth that you feel with the forest guardian, even as the months begin to grow colder. It’s not that it doesn’t feel nice – in fact, this is precisely because it does feel nice. Too nice. You’re starting to feel a stirring in your heart that reminds you of how you felt for Jacob. Though it’s small, very small, it’s there – you can recognize it from the years of heartache you spent watching Jacob fall in love with someone else.

You don’t want that again with Chan.

It shames you to want to run away again, to run away from a place that has provided you with so much comfort in the months past. You love the children, truly, and the friends you’ve made are wonderful. You’ve even started giving Juyeon lessons with your sword. But what other course of action is there? There’s no reason a forest guardian with so many centuries of wisdom would fall for a young, naïve human like you. Here, a love story is even more impossible than one with Jacob.

The decision curdles in your stomach, fills your throat with bitter, hot shame, but it’s necessary, you tell yourself. Better to cut everything off right now, before your emotions grow out of control.

You’re not that important to the shrine, really. You’ve only been there a few months. They’ll survive without you.

You just can’t go through the pain you felt with Jacob ever again.

. . .

You debate avoiding Chan. If he were human, you might actually have chosen that path. But just like you couldn’t avoid Jacob when you fell in love – you were too close, he definitely would’ve noticed – you can’t avoid Chan. He’s the forest’s guardian – he’ll know you’re purposely trying not to be found.

So you decide to cut things off on one of your walks. It feels so simple in your mind – get away from the shrine, then tell him you’re leaving. He won’t care, you tell yourself. It won’t matter to him. And as much as the thought hurts, it’s the better option.

It should be easy, really. Chan gives you the perfect opening – “Why do you look so sad today?” he asks, stopping you by Hyunjin’s pond. The nymph himself doesn’t appear, which you’re very thankful for.

Well, no time like the present. You steel yourself. “I’m going to leave the shrine.”

Chan’s face switches expressions several times within seconds. You watch, feeling a sick sense of dread and relief pooling in your stomach. It’s out there. You’ve said it.

But spirits, why does he look so upset? So angry?

Like you mean something to him?

“Why?” he finally asks.

“Well,” you stammer, his unprecedented reaction sending all of the rehearsed words flying out of your mind, “I – I’ve overstayed my welcome, haven’t I? I’ve been here for months already, and I’ve used the shrine’s hospitality long enough.” His incredulous expression sparks indignation in your chest. “Why are you looking at me like that?”

“Do you realize how much you do for the shrine?” he snaps. His footsteps, usually so silent, pound on the earth as he steps up to you. “You think you’ve overstayed your welcome – do you know how much I – how much the shrine needs you now?”

How much I?

How much I need you?

How much Chan needs me?

Slip of the tongue. You shake your head, trying your best to ignore it. “All I do is help with the children, work with Kevin in the garden! Chan, I’m easily replaceable – I’m just a poor traveler who was fortunate enough to find the shrine! I’m lucky that you’ve all been so welcoming, but really, it’s time for me to move on.”

“And what about the children? Your friends?” He crosses his arms. “What about me?”

“They’ll live!” you snap. “And what do you mean, what about you?”

Chan growls under his breath. “Are you really trying to say that I mean nothing to you?”

His words hit you like a punch in the gut, like that time Jacob accidentally rammed you in the stomach with the pommel of a sword.

So… not a slip of the tongue.

“Why does it matter that you mean something to me when I don’t mean anything to you?” you finally say.

“And here I thought you were smart,” Chan snaps.

Anger flares in your chest. “I’m serious, Chan! Why would I ever think I meant something to you?” You gesture wildly at the expanse of trees surrounding you. “You’re a millennia-old guardian of a forest of magic. I’m a human who ended up here out of luck. Why, even if I ever felt anything for you, would you feel anything for me? What have I done to merit your attention?”

Chan’s eyes soften slightly. “So many things.”

Taken aback, you flail for words. “Elaborate.”

“You’re a sword-bearer. A kind sword-bearer. A sword-bearer Changbin trusts, enough to divulge his name and travel with for almost a year. A sword-bearer he believed was pure enough of heart to find the shrine – and don’t stop me there, if he hadn’t thought you would be able to find it, he wouldn’t have told you of its existence.” Chan stares at you with that same soft look, that soft look that pierces your heart and makes you feel guilty, so guilty, because you’re not as good, not as kind, not as pure as he thinks you are. “You carved your place in the shrine the first day you spent there. Without anyone asking, you took care of the children and helped Kevin in the garden. You did everything you could to give the children a bit of the love they never might’ve experienced otherwise and protected them from a threat you knew nothing of, something that could have torn you to pieces if you weren’t as trained as you were. You –”

“Stop.”

Chan looks at you, confused. “What –”

“I’m not – I’m not even near the brave person you’re describing,” you snap, tears starting to well in your eyes. “Stop talking about me like I’m some – some spirits-damned martyr, or something –”

“But –”

“And even if I was this, this noble and amazing person you think I am,” you interrupt, tears fighting to slip past your eyes, “how many other men and women at the shrine are the same? Kind, gentle, whatever you want to use to describe me? I’m not special, Chan. I’ve never been.”

Jacob didn’t think you were, at least.

“Y/N, why – just – did you not hear anything I just said about you?” Chan tries to take your hand, but you shy away, pretending the hurt in his eyes doesn’t send knives into your chest. “You earned the trust of a moon child haunted by those who carry blades in a matter of months. Those at the shrine took years to gain his full acceptance. You proved me wrong about sword-bearers. You showed me you were fearless, brave, kind – you are special, Y/N,” he insists, forcing you to meet his eyes. “You’ve shown me that, shown me so much –”

“Stop.”

Your chest is heaving, the tears have spilled out, and you’re fighting for breath. It hurts, it hurts so much that Chan thinks this much of you, but all you are is a coward running away your feelings. “You don’t know,” you gasp, “you don’t know what kind of a person I am. I’m not what you see. How can you –” you angrily brush a tear away – “how can you not see that?”

“Then tell me,” Chan says. “Tell me why you’re so different. Convince me.”

You don’t want to. You don’t want to convince him, you want him to always have that beautiful image of you in his mind – a brave, gentle knight dedicated to protecting those who cannot defend themselves. But he deserves the truth.

And the truth is that you are a coward.

“I left my kingdom because I was in love with my best friend,” you spit. “He married the queen, and I couldn’t do anything but watch. I left because I couldn’t stand to see them so happy together, knowing I would only be on the sidelines of their love for the rest of my life. I left because I couldn’t bring myself to tell him how I felt, couldn’t bring myself to clear the air. I left because I wanted to run away instead of facing my problems, Chan! And even when I knew Jacob would always welcome me back with open arms, even during my darkest moments, I still chose to run away! I chose to find the shrine instead of letting my feelings go and reconciling with my friend. I chose to find the shrine and run away a second time because I couldn’t stand to face him again when I was the one who chose to leave.” A choked sob escapes your lips. “And now I’m running away again, because I thought you could never care for me in the way I’m beginning to care for you. Only you apparently do, but I can’t just stay here and let you love this perfect, noble character who doesn’t exist.”

Silence fills the air. Surely the birds are chirping, the leaves rustling, but you can’t hear anything over the pathetic sounds of you trying to control your tears.

“So now you know,” you croak. “You know the truth behind the coward this knight really is.”

You can’t even meet Chan’s eyes.

“You’re right,” Chan finally says. “For a knight, you’re an awful coward.”

His words stab you in the chest.

“Courage doesn’t constitute running away.”

You can feel the blood dripping out of your heart.

“It means facing your challenges head on, doing what you must.”

You clench your teeth, resolutely looking down at your feet. It’s the truth, you tell yourself. It doesn’t matter if it hurts. It’s the truth.

Then Chan’s trousers enter your vision. You stiffen, ready to back away, but Chan’s already tilting your chin up with one gentle finger so that you’re staring into his eyes. “But you’re brave, Y/N,” he murmurs. “You’re brave when it comes to protecting others, defending the innocent from those who would bring harm.” A small smile curves his lips. “You’re just not too good at protecting yourself.”

You burst into tears. And this time, when Chan presses you into his chest, letting you inhale his woodsy smell of fresh grass and sunlight, you don’t pull away.

. . .

“You don’t have to run away from attachment,” Chan tells you on the walk back to the shrine. “You don’t have to run away from familiarity, from caring about people. We care about you, truly. The children would be heartbroken if you left. So would Kevin and Juyeon and everyone else.” He gives you a gentle smile. “I would be, too.”

Keeping his words in mind, you put away your thoughts of leaving the shrine and try to open your eyes to how much people actually enjoy your presence. Some days, when the self-loathing rises and you don’t want to do anything but run away, it’s hard.

But Chan always finds you, if not the same day, then the day after. He takes you into the woods and tells stories until your sides ache from laughter and the sparkle – or so he tells you – is back in your eyes. With his slow, careful help, you begin to see the small, but visible effects you have on the shrine.

Eric’s and Chaeryeong’s eyes light up when you walk into the room. Sunwoo and Yuna fight for your attention. Juyeon’s calm face breaks into a smile when you show up for his daily swordplay practice, and Kevin laughs with abandon when you crack jokes in the garden. They’re small things, but you realize that leaving the shrine would’ve caused a lot more damage – to you and to them – that you didn’t realize before.

So you cement your place in the shrine, throwing yourself into the daily life of the place you’ve tentatively begun to think of as something deeper than a mere shelter. Juyeon’s interest in swordplay gives you the idea to begin training some of the girls and boys in defense. The priestesses agree after a little convincing – after all, you argue, even if the shrine isn’t threatened very often, dangers like the screech owl crop up every now and then. And if anyone decides to leave the shrine in the future and make their own life, defense could be a very useful skill.

Chan embraces your idea with more warmth than you’d imagine, given his aversion to sword-bearers. When you ask him about it, he just gives you that teasing smile that infuriates and calms you. “I trust you, don’t I?” His smile turns gentler. “You’re a good, brave sword-bearer. I think you’ll be able to keep your pupils from going… astray.”

You certainly do your best. Over several years of training, you watch Juyeon, Kevin, Yeji, and Lia grow into formidable opponents. Sunwoo takes more of an interest in archery after you fashion him a crude bow and arrow, practicing with the (kind of terrible) weapons until you buy him proper set in town.

Life goes on, and it goes well. Shrine life is peaceful as new residents enter – the newest resident, Haknyeon, is adorable – and you grow into yourself as the months go by. Chan never presses his feelings, only treats you the same way he always did until you’re ready to accept his care.

“Are you sure?” he asks when you tell him, eyes sparkling with hope and love and uncertainty all at once.

Your heart blossoms with love for the forest guardian. “Yes.” You smile. “I think I love myself enough to allow you to love me too.”

His lips taste like spring, like golden sunlight filtered through verdant leaves. Pressed against his chest, you feel safe, delicate in the touch of his fingers splayed gently across your back, strong in the warmth of his arms around your waist.

Oh, Chan makes you feel loved, loved in a way that slowly erases the self-loathing you’ve carried for so long, in a way that makes you feel brave enough to remain standing with each passing day. And even though you’ve still got a long way to go, you take comfort in the knowledge that Chan, your forest guardian, will always be there for you.

. . . . .

News doesn’t come often to the small village just outside the forest, so when there’s gossip that doesn’t pertain to the whereabouts about one villager or another, it’s worth listening to. This time, it’s a kingdom at war with another.

“Which kingdoms?” you ask idly, examining an apple.

“One is Adment,” the shopkeeper replies. You snort, a sentiment he laughs with. “Which was the other, honey?” he yells to his wife in the back of the stall.

“Was it Callia?” she yells back.

You don’t laugh when the apple drops from your hand.

Trying not to visibly show your distress, you wave off the shopkeeper’s worry at your expression and hurry to finish the shopping. To your luck, when you make it back to the shrine, Chan is already there, conversing with one of the priestesses.

“Y/N!” His smile drops slightly when he takes in your expression. The priestess quietly excuses herself. “Did something happen?”

“Callia – Callia is at war with Adment.” You swallow hard, trying to steady your voice. “Jacob’s kingdom. At war with the one that killed Changbin’s love.”

Chan’s face turns hard. “I see.”

“I – I feel like I need to do something.” You gaze at him, begging him to understand everything you can’t put into words. “Chan, I feel like I have to go back and help, somehow.”

Chan’s eyes are gentle but unreadable as he grasps your hand firmly in his. “You should do what you think is right,” he says quietly.

What I think is right.

What do I think is right?

Your mind races with panic, but one thought emerges, crystal clear in certainty.

“Yes,” you whisper, more to yourself than Chan. “I’ll do what is right.”

. . .

The priestesses give you their blessing to return to the kingdom you used to call home. Juyeon, Kevin, Lia, and Sunwoo volunteer to come with you as well, even though you try to dissuade them repeatedly with how dangerous it’ll be. They could die, you stress – this is war, after all. But they insist.

You put off saying goodbye to Chan until the day before you leave. He’s the one who finds you, actually – he has something to say, apparently, before you go.

It feels so strange, walking with Chan through the forest with the knowledge that you may never come back. It’s not like you’re a stranger to the evils of war – every time you rode into battle as a knight, you knew there was a high likelihood that you would die.

But it’s different, now. Jacob and your fellow Guards knew the risks of war – you were all seasoned fighters, trained in tactics and stealth and strategy. Here, you only have a very small group of fighters – reasonably good for the amount of training they’ve had, but lacking in true experience. They won’t understand the true horror of battle until they’ve experienced it themselves.

There’s something else, too. You’re leaving behind someone you love for the first time, someone who cannot come and fight by your side.

“Can I go first?” you ask, stopping by Hyunjin’s pond. You want to see the still waters one more time before you leave.

Chan nods. “Of course.”

“I…” You look down, mustering your courage. “I wanted to tell you that I love you.”

For a moment, there’s just silence. Then a sudden flush spreads across Chan’s cheeks.

It bolsters your confidence. “I know I don’t say it often,” you continue, enjoying the shyness on your guardian’s face, “but I really do. I wanted you to know that I’m not going off to help Jacob’s kingdom because I love him the way I used to, but because I still care about him as a friend.” You gaze into Chan’s clear eyes. “I love you very much, and I wanted to tell you that before I left.”

He presses a soft kiss to your forehead. “I never thought you were going to war out of romantic love for Jacob,” he says quietly. “You don’t need to worry about that, ever. I trust you.”

Your heart explodes with warmth. “So what is it that you had to tell me?”

“I never told you how forest guardians are chosen, did I?” Chan asks.

You shake your head. “No.”

“Well, sit down, and I’ll tell you now.” He smiles. “It’s a long story.”

Chan tells you of his first life as an oread, a mountain spirit settled in the craggy cliffs not too far from the forest. He tells you of the last guardian before him, a teasing fae named Jaebum.

“A fae?” you interrupt. “Isn’t that… not a good idea?” As lovely as Han and his lady are – you’ve met them several times by now – you wouldn’t exactly call him a suitable guardian. You’d say the same and more for his more sinister counterparts.

“Jaebum was different,” Chan says. “He cared deeply for the forest. After the two centuries I knew him, he found someone to love, to grow old with over time. He asked me to be forest guardian after he died.”

“So the current forest guardian chooses the next when they feel their time is over?” you clarify.

Chan nods, gazing into your eyes. “Yes.”

And all of a sudden, you understand.

“Chan, you –” You have to clear away the emotion rising in your throat. “You want to pass on the guardianship for me? To whom?”

“I’ve spoken to Changbin.” Chan smiles. “He was very receptive to the idea.”

“But – Chan, for me?” The old uncertainty starts to plague your mind. “Chan, I’m just… I’m just me.”

“Exactly.” Chan takes your hands in his. “You’re you. And I want to grow old with you. Live life with you. Don’t try to argue with me – this is something I know I want.”

You can’t even speak through the tears running down your face. “Chan –”

“Come here.” He wraps you in his warm arms. “I love you, Y/N. I want to spend the rest of my life with you.”

For how long you stay there, crying into Chan’s embrace, you don’t know. By the time you’re coherent enough to pull back, it feels like it’s been an eternity.

“So now you have to come back.” Chan smiles, though you can see a glimmer of fear, of uncertainty in his gaze. “You have to stay safe and come back for me, all right?”

“Yeah.” Hyunjin suddenly appears from the pond and you literally shriek, toppling backwards onto the grass. “You have to come back to Chan, or he’ll mope around for millennia and send the forest into ruin.” The nymph smirks, though you can see real concern hidden in his eyes.

“Like you moped for centuries over your cloud nymph?” Chan retorts, lips curved in an exasperated smile.

Hyunjin sniffs. “Details,” he says haughtily, already sinking back into his pool. He sends you a glance, though, that’s full of meaning.

You must come back. Don’t leave Chan waiting.

You make a silent promise that you won’t.

. . .

The next day, your cohort wakes up early. After yawning through a quick breakfast, you quickly gather your belongings and meet up at the front of the shrine. Several of the priestesses cluck over you like mother hens checking on their chicks, and you dutifully take their warnings and cautions with as light a smile as you can muster.

Chan shows up just as you’re about to go. The others thankfully leave you two alone for a bit (though you scowl at Kevin’s smirk and Lia’s whistle).

You don’t talk much, just stay wrapped in each other’s arms for several minutes. Eventually, though, dawn breaks. It’s time to leave.

“Be brave,” Chan whispers as you pull away.

You smile. “I’ll come back.”

With one last kiss that tastes of spring greenery, you leave the shrine. When you look back, Chan’s already disappeared.

. . .

It’s a long two years spent away from the shrine. The pace is difficult on your friends, who have only known the shrine as a home for so many years. For you, it’s a bit easier – you’ve been a traveler for a good few years, and it doesn’t take too long to settle back into the wanderer’s mindset, moving around, never staying in one place too long.

But they don’t complain. They’re strong, resilient, and resourceful – more so, really, than some of the knights you knew on the Guard. With their help, you launch quiet strikes at the border of Adment and Callia, taking down Adment’s forces small legion by small legion. Your group becomes known for your silent ambushes, though you take care to keep your identities hidden.

It’s like being a knight again on a smaller scale – planning attacks and carrying them out, knowing that you might lose your life or your friends along the way. It isn’t entirely unwelcome. Fighting still gives you that adrenaline rush, that grim, satisfying knowledge that you’re doing something to protect the people you love.

At the same time, though, it isn’t as fulfilling as it used to be. This life of fighting battles isn’t for you anymore. Yes, you will fight to defend, but you’ve found other ways to protect your loved ones, too.

It just cements the fact that you don’t think you’ll ever come back to Callia to stay.

Finally, Adment surrenders. You’re glad, truly – you’re ready to return to the shrine, as are your friends. As you begin the trek back through some of the rural villages, though, a few posters catch your eye. They spell out a request for the unknown border attackers to come forth to the palace and be honored for their aid in the war.

They know your story, Lia, Juyeon, Kevin, Sunwoo. It was only fair that you told them – how could you lead them to possible death without knowing why you came in the first place, why this was so important to you?

So you ask them. “Do you want to reveal yourselves?”

“I don’t think it’s a question of us,” Juyeon says quietly. “It’s about you.”

“Yes,” Lia echoes. “We’ll follow you, whatever you decide.”

Their trust still astounds you, even after so many years spent trying to dilute the self-loathing that used to plague your brain. “Give me a day to think,” you eventually say. “If you say you’ll follow me, I’ll let you know tomorrow.”

You stay up all night, debating. Your friends have already spent so long away from their home, fighting a war on your behalf. Is it worth it to take the extra few weeks spent traveling to and from the palace? Would it be fair to ask them to journey with you for even longer?

No, Y/N. You shake your head. They asked you to decide, which means they want a decision based on your feelings, on your desires. They’re kind enough to know that this must be your choice to make.

You sigh, leaning back against a sturdy tree. Why are you so hesitant about seeing Jacob again, anyway? You don’t love him anymore, not the way you used to. It doesn’t hurt you as much to think of him. Spirits, you even came all this way to help him in a war you weren’t even involved in.

Maybe you’re afraid that you’ll fall in love with him again, a tiny voice in your head suggests. Maybe you’re afraid that you’ll want to stay.

Oh.

That’s probably it.

Pressing the heels of your palms into your eyes, you sigh again. You love Chan. You love the shrine. You’ve realized that fighting battles as a knight isn’t the way you want to spend the rest of your life. But you’re still afraid that seeing Jacob again will awaken feelings for him once more.

Wait. You sit up, frowning into the darkness. For your feelings to awaken, they would still have to exist.

You don’t love Jacob anymore. The thought of him doesn’t make your heart thump anymore, doesn’t choke your throat with emotions anymore.

Logically, rationally, seeing him again wouldn’t hurt the way it used to.

But love isn’t rational, the oh-so-helpful part of your mind pipes up.

You scowl. Stop making this decision harder.

As the fire dies to glowing coals, as your friends quietly snore throughout the night (except Sunwoo, he snores very loudly), you sit there, mind warring with fear.

By morning, you’ve made your decision.

. . .

The palace is almost the same as you remembered – high, polished stone walls surrounded by a bustling marketplace and lush gardens. The grass looks a bit wilted and the market chatter sounds subdued, but the kingdom has just gone through a war. You would be more worried, really, if everything looked exactly as beautiful as it used to be.

Anxiety bursts in your chest as you slip through the crowds, face covered in a scarf, getting closer and closer to the palace. Three of the Guard stand sentinel at front gates, and even though you’re too far away to see their faces, you’re sure you’d recognize at least a couple of them up close.

“Breathe,” Kevin whispers helpfully next to you. “You’ll be fine.”

You nod shakily. “Yeah.”

Two of the Guard cross their spears over the gates as you approach. The third steps forward, meeting your gaze.

Your heart skips a beat at the sight of an old friend. Changmin!

“State your business,” Changmin says, eyes unmoved. It stings a little that he doesn’t recognize you, but it’s understandable. You’ve both changed over the years – you’ve grown out your hair, while he’s cut his shorter, and he’s lost the last baby fat from his cheeks – and you have a scarf covering half of your face.

“I have business with the king,” you reply, heart hammering in your chest. “I believe my presence was specifically requested, along with that of my friends from the border.”

Faint recognition lights Changmin’s eyes, though they also narrow in slight confusion. He looks at you for a second, gaze piercing yours.

“Is something wrong?” you ask. “We can leave our weapons at the gates, if you wish.”

Changmin shakes his head, shoulders slumped in resignation. “No, I just thought you sounded like someone I once knew.” He looks down. “She had a sword like yours, too.”

Your heart hammers at your old friend’s words. What would he say if he did know it was you?

His voice cuts through your panicked thoughts. “May I have a name by which to introduce you to His Majesty?”

Last chance, you tell yourself. Last chance to turn back.

You won’t lie – the choice sounds appealing, at least to your pounding heart. Glancing up at the high stone walls, you feel the old urge to run away.

You could. You could turn away from the gates right now, leave Changmin remembering someone who will never return. You could travel back to the shrine and forget this ever happened.

But Chan told you to be brave. And being brave doesn’t only apply to war.

You pull down your scarf, smiling at the incredulous expression spreading over Changmin’s face. “You can tell him an old friend’s come back to visit.”

. . .

After yelling at you for never visiting and punching you at least ten times (your arm is so, so sore, but as he reminds you, you should just be glad he didn’t challenge you to a duel right then and there), Changmin brings you into one of the waiting rooms. “I’ll find you and bite you if I come back and see that you’ve disappeared again,” he threatens before heading back into the halls.

Sunwoo raises an eyebrow, looking mildly disturbed. “Bite you?”

You snort, smiling widely. “Long story.”

Too soon, though, there’s another set of footsteps echoing outside of the room. The smile slowly starts to slip off your face, and your heart, previously calmed by Changmin’s characteristic welcome, starts to pound again.

Be brave. Chan’s voice speaks in your mind. Be brave.

You steel yourself.

Then Jacob appears in the doorway, and the room feels like it’s falling away.

. . .

By the time your mind has caught up to the present, you’re wrapped in Jacob’s strong arms, in one of those Jacob hugs that you used to yearn for every day. It’s comforting, warm, but to your pleasant surprise, there’s no hurt. No pain.

You only feel happy.

“You came back,” Jacob whispers, more to himself than to you. “You came back.”

You just laugh, squeezing your best friend harder. “I did.”

Thankfully, your friends understand that you need some time with Jacob alone. Changmin leads them out, already bickering with Sunwoo (how they became friends so quickly, you’re not sure you want to know). In the silence of the room, you and Jacob just stare at each other for a moment.

“I –”

“What –”

You burst into laughter and Jacob joins in, feeling heady with absolute bliss and relief that your worst fears haven’t been realized. You haven’t fallen back in love with Jacob at first sight. His mere presence doesn’t make you want to stay.

“You first,” Jacob finally says when you’ve calmed down. “You first.”

The laughter disappears from your throat as your smile dims. “I never told you the full reason why I left.”

Jacob is a good listener, a fact that you’re grateful for. If he’d interrupted you at any point, you aren’t sure you would’ve been able to continue. Still, though, it’s harrowing, recounting the love you felt for your best friend for so long.

“When I left the first time, I didn’t have any intention of returning.” You state the harsh truth with a bitter taste in your mouth. “I couldn’t bring myself to tell you about what I felt, so seeing you only hurt. I didn’t… I didn’t want to feel any more pain.”

“I’m sorry, Y/N.” Jacob’s eyes are cloudy, filled with pain on your behalf. “I’m so sorry. If I’d known…”

“Stop.” You put a hand on his shoulder. “One reason I didn’t tell you was because I knew you’d blame yourself. It isn’t your fault. None of it is.”

Jacob sits in silence for a moment. “But you did come back.”

“I did.” A small smile curves your lips. “I found a place that took me in, allowed me to try and find myself once more. I found someone who helped me heal. So when I heard about the war, I didn’t have qualms about coming to help. It was something… I knew it was something I had to do.”

Jacob’s eyes clear. “I see. Your someone, your, um…”

“Husband,” you offer. It’s the closest thing to what Chan is to you that Jacob would understand.

He nods. “Your husband didn’t come?”

“No.” You shake your head. “I came with friends. We have our own things to protect, back at home.”

Home. That word surprises you as it leaves your lips. Home.

The forest, the shrine is your home.

It’s the first time you’ve made this connection. With the realization, a sudden burst of warmth fills your chest.

“I see.” Jacob leans forward, looking genuinely happy for you. “Things are going well, then?”

Briefly, you wonder if you should tell him about the shrine. You decide not to. That’s your secret to keep, at least for now.

“Yes, they are.” A smile involuntarily spreads across your face. “Very well.”

For a moment, the two of you just sit in comfortable silence. Then Jacob speaks. “Can I persuade you again to stay?” he asks, though from the look in his eye, you’re pretty sure he already knows your answer. “You can bring your husband and friends. There will always be a place for you here.”

It feels like you’re being thrown back in time to that day in the training room, just a few months before you left. Your answer is still the same as it was then, so many years ago.

But you have something else to add.

You shake your head. “Not this time, Jacob.” Your smile grows smaller, but softer. “Though I do promise I’ll visit you again.”

. . .

On the horses Jacob gifted you, it only takes a few weeks to return to the forest. You see the children and the priestesses first, waiting at the front of the shrine, followed by the other maidens and messenger boys. Their shouts of welcome bring a smile to your face.

Then Chan appears when you’re riding up to the gates, crushing you in a hug almost before you’ve leapt off your horse.

You lose yourself in your guardian’s warmth, in the strength of his arms wrapped around your body. It feels so similar to Jacob’s hugs, so comforting and soft and strong, but also so uniquely Chan. You laugh into his chest, tears beginning to stream down your face.

“I’m back,” you gasp between the tears. “I’m back, Chan.”

“I know,” he whispers, only holding you closer. “I know.”

A blissful eternity passes, wrapped in Chan’s arms, until he pulls back the slightest bit, just enough to press a long-awaited kiss on your lips. “You’re back,” he says one more time, as though he still can’t quite believe it.

“I am,” you confirm. “I did it, Chan.”

He knows. He knows, looking into your eyes, what you mean by “it.” He knows you don’t just mean that you fought Adment, that you came home alive. He knows there’s something more.

Something involving a certain past love.

Warm, warm pride blooms in Chan’s eyes. “Were you brave?”

Memories race through your mind – staunching bloody wounds, trekking through the forests at the border – but you know that isn’t what Chan means. He knows you can be brave in the midst of battle, brave in protecting those you love the most.

He wants to know if you were brave with him.

Your eyes twinkle as you remember the palace gates, seeing Changmin again, landing in Jacob’s arms once more. You remember his soft voice, his kind eyes full of real, platonic care, a memory you’ll treasure for years to come.

Where you once might have grimaced at the thought of your old home, now, the smile on your face only broadens with every passing second.

“Yes.” Your laughing gaze sparkles into Chan’s proud eyes. “I was.”

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simpingforthisonedeer · 3 years

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Chapter 11: Sons & Daughters

SFW version here

Summary: Holly is involving herself in things she shouldn't be, like telling the Wizard King he is doing necromancy. Aika plays matchmaker and then has tea with Lord Silva. The Captain of the Royal Guards "greets" Aika and the faceless assassin from the final battle returns. 6563 words

Notes: Heyo folks! Im back 😎 I stopped waiting for the Spade arc to finish so I’m posting now. It’s gonna be really fun from here on out cus we’re slowly easing into the plot so I can’t wait😋

Tagging: @ckjwnnbc @thoughtfullyrainynightmare @lyranova @elysianluv

“Good Morning, Julius!” She chirped from where she was seated on her mother’s lap, completely unaware of tension.

A smile lit up his face. He was truly happy to see her again. He faintly wondered if he would get an opportunity to ask about her magic.

"Good morning, Holly! How wonderful to see you again! Are you here to spend the day with your mother?"

"No, I'm about to go to the CLK headquarters to go see Uncle Fueggy, and Leo!" He raised a brow at the name. Uncle Fueggy?

"Good morning, Julius," Aika greeted as casually as she could as her arms tightened around Holly.

His face softened when he looked up at her. She felt her face heat up under his gaze. It always seemed like he was looking through her.

"Good morning, Aika." His low voice raised goosebumps on the nape of her neck. "I just wanted to inform you that I will be touring the bases and will hold a conference with the Captains. I was wondering if you would like to accompany me? It would be a simple way to come out of the shadows as well, now that your amulet is gone," he explained, his voice the epitome of neutral.

She ushered Holly off of her lap and stood up as she clasped her cloak pin, slight regret crossing her face,

"I’m sorry, Julius. I have to go settle a territorial dispute between the city-states Roma and Amor." While it wasn't necessary to provide details, her Uncle recommended that she tell him minor details of her company to encourage Julius to trust her more about his own work.

She had only noticed after Master Raymond pointed it out but Julius may tend to seem casual and open but that was just part of his charm. He asked a lot of questions but rarely ever revealed any details about himself but most people don't notice it because he was so charismatic.

"What does that territorial dispute have to do with you?" Holly grumbled as she crossed her arms. She wanted her mom to come visit Fuegoleon instead. It’s a big achievement becoming captain! It’s like becoming a general.

Aika layed a gloved hand on her head as a small smile crept up her face.

"My company owns a big part of the land they're fighting over so it's a matter of who I will be paying the taxes to." Holly was always very aware of her mother's work and it was all so fascinating. She was glad she explained this stuff to her in a way she could understand. She hated not knowing things.

Aika looked up and addressed Julius again who was listening in interest.

"Then, I would have to have tea with Lord Silva, and hopefully finish that before I have to go introduce myself again to the Royal Guard who take lessons from me once a week. They don't remember me because of the amulet I used to have."

"Oh! I've heard about some faceless teacher giving lessons to the Royal Guard from Master Raymond." Julius touched his chin thoughtfully. "He told me it was you...It was the amulet you were wearing right? Would they even remember your lessons if they couldn't remember your face?"

"Yes, and of course. They only don't remember the identity of their teacher." She tilted her head when she noticed the time. "I must be going now," she announced as she pulled out her communicator. “I will talk to you more when I return.” Aika brought the device up to her mouth. "Ellie, to Roma please." A portal opened up next to her. "I'll see you later, Julius. And Holly," she gave her a stern look. "Behave yourself. Don't bother Fuegoleon too much, okay?” She sighed. It was his first day as Captain but he permitted Holly to come visit him anyway. She worries how much he showed favoritism towards Holly. “And no mischief,” she added.

Holly nodded somberly, suppressing a grin. It was perfect that Julius had walked in when he did. While it wasn't necessarily mischief, she needed to inform him of something that may be considered a bother in her mom's books. She may not exactly like him yet, but this was important. It was her very first, very real mission.

"Yes, mom. I love you!" She blushed when her mom gave her one of her infamous headpats. "Be safe!"

Aika smiled down at her daughter. "Of course." She nodded at Julius who winked at her in response. She blushed as she shook her head and ported away.

"Julius?" Holly called seriously, her face turned away from him. He briefly feared that that wink may have been too much in front of her.

"Yes, Holly?"

"Are you going to the Crimson Lions Headquarters first?"

He raised a brow.

"Yes. How did you know that?"

She turned around with a mischievous grin.

"It's the closest base to the capital, so logically you would go there first."

"Wow!" He didn't expect deductive reasoning from a 10-year-old.

She smiled proudly.

"So, could I come with you? I'm going there too and I want to tell you something."

That piqued his curiosity. She had something to tell him?

"That mark you and mom are wearing on your forehead." She tapped her forehead. "Do you know what that is?"

Julius stilled at her words. Should he even be talking about this?

"It's a mark from a magic item," he answered cautiously.

"Yeah, I overheard. But do you know what the rune actually means or represents?"

"Er, no?" Where was she going with this?

"Well, the Nordic runes, the Hebrew alphabet and the Star of David are derived from the six-rayed star."

He quirked his brow again. He never knew that and it was fascinating information that he could delve into. But why did she sound so serious?

"The top part of the Tree of Life, also known as the Tree of Sephiroth or Sephirah is also derived from the same rune."

Julius's eyes widened. The elves who used to live near Hage worshipped the emanations in the Tree of Sephirah. Was the Swallowtail their relic? But the first Wizard King had a log of how he invented it so was it inspired by the elves?

"Any magic related to the Sephirah is life magic, used in resurrection, necromancy, reincarnation etcetera etcetera. It's forbidden magic."

Chills swept through him. Oh. Now that she put it that way, that was exactly what he was doing wasn't he? He reasoned that it was so that he could revive himself but that was technically necromancy, wasn't it?

"Mana and life essence are one and the same and you are storing your mana in it right? So that means you are storing your life energy," Holly narrowed her eyes at him in suspicion. "And also, there are elves in other countries who might find it a great offence that you are wearing Sephira's mark, especially when you don't worship it." She looked pointedly at the cross he wore.

"How do you know all of this?" He asked as he mirrored her suspicious gaze.

"My mom's old teacher, who is now my teacher, is an elf and a High Priest of Sephirah. He told me. He knows a lot about the divinity part of forbidden magic. And in order to learn about the light, you need to know the dark so yeah, he knows about all of this." She walked past him towards the door leading to his office. "But please don't tell my mom I know because she doesn't want me learning about the darker parts of forbidden magic yet."

He followed Holly into his office, thinking about how surreal this all was. A ten-year-old was just casually telling him off about necromancy and religion.

"Then why are you telling me this?"

"Because the Triad in the Spade kingdom and their Devils would target this kingdom more aggressively if they knew that someone was bearing the mark that represented the antithe—" She wrestled with the word. "Antithesis to them." She raised her arms defensively. "I'm just telling you what my teacher told me." He was a prophet for Sephirah. Someone who had also achieved Enlightenment, which granted him the ability to bear the Image of God, Imago Dei, and not go blind or insane. He and the other Enlightened Ones would receive direct orders or visions from God that they must carry out. He told her that she needed to tell Julius Novachrono that he must be wary of the mark on his head. When she asked him why, he told her it was more for her sake than him but the message must be relayed nevertheless.

His words worried Holly because did that mean she must be wary of the mark too? She worshipped the sun gods which were emanations of The God so they will be merciful towards her if she made a mistake. Right? Holly wasn’t so sure.

After all, there was no law dictating that God must be fair.

Julius stared long and hard at her. That was very heavy information for a child to bear. And how did her teacher know all that information about the Spade Kingdom? Why did he want to relay it to him? He needed to think on this because there is a very real threat from Spade that could kill him and if he had no way to come back, who was going to protect Clover Kingdom? He needed to keep the mark.

"Alright." He said simply. He would think about this later. "Who's Uncle Fueggy?" He asked with a bright smile, changing the topic. A child shouldn't dwell on such things.

Holly blushed at that question, ignoring the bizarre way his mood quickly switched up for now.

"Fuegoleon played with me a lot when I was a kid so it's a habit," she explained sheepishly.

"Oh, is your family close to the Vermillions?"

"Well—" Her mom did not want her to tell anyone about her and Mereoleona unless she said so, so she couldn't say anything. "You have to ask my mom about that."

"I see..." Julius did remember the tense looks former Captain Leonardo and Aika shared. There seemed to be some history. Well, he could ask Fuegoleon himself when he goes to their base. If Holly wanted to accompany him, he doesn’t see a reason why she shouldn’t.

He proffered his elbow to her with a dashing smile. "Shall we go?"

Aika landed unsteadily on the study floor as she tossed her cloak and folders on the desk. Ellie followed behind her, eyes blank and wide as she just tried to process what she just witnessed.

"Are they going to be fine...?" She asked, pointing shakily at the shrinking portal behind her.

Aika leaned on her desk as she pinched the bridge of her nose, staving off an oncoming headache.

"Of course they're going to be fine. The two kings are in love with each other despite how much they fight."

"What?!”

“Yes. It is obvious to most of the officials in the room, myself included.”

“I—” Ellie sputtered in shock as Aika continued.

“Usually, I don’t play cupid but in a show of unity they were trying to impose both their taxes on me and I can’t have that. Our branch on the disputed land is a small one and it would go bankrupt if they did that. So I did the next best thing. I paid the wait staff and guards off so that they would direct the two kings to the same private lounge when they adjourned for recess and lock them for the entirety of the break.”

Ellie gaped at Aika and her crazy idea.

“They’ll either talk it out or kiss and make up.”

“...But how would that help us?”

“This plan could only work because I have a good rapport with both the kings. I proposed a plan where they could split the money from one single tax evenly between themselves. If they talked it out calmly and away from prying eyes, they would go with my plan. If they kissed and made up, their first compromise together as partners would be to go with my plan as well because they are both favorable towards me. They were only being unfair because of the tension between each other, not with me.” It was guaranteed that it would go either way. She didn’t play fair and not use her Time Magic with her own company. She could see what choices she could make that could lead to a favorable outcome for her and her company.

She knew what investments to make, where to take risks and where to back down, but only if she could think up various solutions to her problems. If she couldn’t think of any plan, then her foresight would offer her nothing.

She could only see if the plan that she thought up works or not but her foresight couldn’t offer her a plan itself because there technically would be thousands, if not millions, of ways any situation could play out. If she had visions of all of them at once, with the information overload, she would be dead instantly. She has to come up with a plan herself and confirm its success. It was better that way because it kept her sharp.

“What if the—er, tension between the two escalated to a physical fight?”

Aika plopped down in her armchair with a sigh. She had thought of that as well but she didn’t need to worry about that.

“Even if they did have a fist fight, I’m not worried because those two would not go to war over personal vendettas. I think it would relieve some stress between them actually. In the end, they will calm down and end up compromising on my idea. So either way, whatever manifests in that room, hate or love, I’ve no doubt they will be coming out of it a little bruised,” she smirked as she crossed her legs.

Ellie let out a laugh at her boss’s suggestive look. Aika was relieved she could reassure her. She tended to worry too much about such things. Evan, Jayce and Ellie do not know that she used Time Magic. So they sometimes wondered how she was so sure about her decisions. After years of wondering, they just chalked it up to forbidden magic.

"Ready for round two?" She asked, referring to the tea they were about to have with Lord Silva. Ellie hummed affirmatively as she shook her head in amusement.

"I have only been as far as the gates to the Silva Mansion. Is that alright, ma'am?"

"Yes, Ellie. That is perfect." They quickly freshened up and stepped into the portal and the grand gates of a white, picturesque mansion came into view. With it's steeples, domes, and solid, white brick walls, it would be more appropriate to call it a castle. Daunting gates made of black metal framed tastefully by green vines slowly swung open when their feet touched the cobblestone.

Aika and Ellie shared a cautious look and took the first step forward together.

When they reached the burnt, spruce wood doors, Aika stared at the tacky gold eagle door knockers in exasperation. Ellie reached for them without a second thought and knocked twice, the loud noise startling Aika. The spatial mage looked at her apologetically as the doors seemingly opened by themselves to reveal the Lord of the house standing in the middle of the foyer, his back ramrod straight, hands linked behind him as an ever-present scowl eased into a bored expression in some resemblance of courtesy.

"Welcome to my home, Madam Tolliver and..." His gaze landed on Ellie. "And uninvited guest," he sneered as he took in her appearance. It was obvious that she was a commoner and even worse, a foreigner. Her big, red eyes, soft nose, and plump lips all encompassed by skin as dark as the sea stood in direct contrast to his features. The only trait they seemed to share was the snow white hair that seemed to shine with an otherworldly glow.

Aika cleared her throat when Ellie's brows furrowed to glare back at the older man.

"I hope you don't mind my maid accompanying me. She's a close associate of mine that assists me in anything I need."

Lord Silva's eyes snapped back to hers as he pursed his lips.

"She may wait in the gardens. The matters we are going to discuss are rather... delicate."

Aika turned to her and nodded permissively. There was no reason for her to stay. She could simply go back to the headquarters but the more area a spatial mage covers, the more places they could travel to, and the more valuable they would be. It would be...advantageous for her to be able to travel directly onto the Silva property if she needed to for any reason.

A servant led Ellie away while Lord Silva motioned her to follow him. She side-eyed the paintings she passed by, but one in particular made her pause mid-step. It was undoubtedly the painting of Acier Silva. It was gigantic as if to immortalize every detail on her beautiful face and the frame was grand and ornate. Lord Silva stood stock still next to her, looking up at his former wife with eyes full of utter adoration and heartache.

Aika looked away, allowing him to have his moment.

When she noticed his feet move away, she followed him, putting that little moment of vulnerability behind them.

He led her to a well-lit sitting room with big windows and a view to the gardens that was breathtaking in the afternoon sun.

Aika faintly wondered how Holly was doing.

Another servant poured them tea and quickly left the room, leaving them in tense silence. She looked out into the garden, clearing her mind and bringing the tea to a much more lukewarm temperature with her magic.

"I apologize for my behaviour on that day," Lord Silva said evenly. She turned to him with slightly raised brows as if she had just noticed his presence. "Whether it was wanted or not, you saved me and I should be grateful to you for that."

"Should be," meaning he wasn't.

Aika looked pensively into her cup.

"Tell me, sir," She peered up at him through her lashes. "How many children do you have?"

He stared at her for a moment, lips parted, before he finally answered,

"Four."

"Have any of them struck your mind before the earth struck you?"

"Excuse me?"

She took a sip.

"I'm sure you need no repeating."

"How dare you ask me such a personal thing?!"

Lord Silva's voice raised several notches, immediately setting Aika on the edge but she restrained her tone and body language.

She quietly stared at him straight in his eyes and he scowled back, refusing to back down for a minute. When he realized she wasn't either, he wrenched his gaze away with a derisive scoff.

"You still haven't answered my question. I'm sure that's not very polite in Clover society," she added lightly. He huffed as a sneer crawled up his face.

"Neither is asking such questions."

"Think of it as payment for saving your life."

"The debt can only be fulfilled when I save you in return."

"You will never save me." Lord Silva's gaze snapped up to her's with a jolt. Blank eyes were downcast at her cup as her left cheek twitched in annoyance.

It seemed like she slipped up once more. It has been happening a lot recently. What was wrong with her?

"What?"

"I meant that you would not have an opportunity to save me." She cleared her throat. "Answer the question for me at least, as your saviour and as a mother."

He was taken aback by that.

"You are a mother?" He asked incredulously.

Aika smiled internally. Information must always be timed perfectly. She had used the truth to both change the subject and reveal a detail about her in a show of false vulnerability that would no doubt encourage him to open up a bit more.

"I am." She smiled lightly. "I have a daughter. Nearly ten."

"So do I..." Lord Silva's shoulders relaxed slightly. He wrapped his hands around the cup comfortingly as he sighed. He caved under her persistence and answered,

"No, I haven't. I haven't thought of them at all."

Aika let the silence envelop them for a moment.

“If you abandoned your children and died, how do you think Lady Acier is going to react?"

He stared at her in shock. How dare she be so casual with him?

"Whether you go to the Underworld or the After, it would be hell either way. If the father of my child died to follow me into the After, leaving our daughter, believe me, I would raise hell."

He looked away pensively when her words struck him.

“I suppose you’re right...”

And with that, Aika was done with what she came for. She gave him something to think about and hopefully it would snowball into something better for him.

She stood up as she set her cup down.

“I’m glad we agree. I don’t believe there is much to discuss.” She clasped her hands in front of her. “I pray that your retirement is as peaceful as today’s afternoon.

“We are not done yet.”

Aika looked up with a raised brow.

“Your Uncle.” she twitched at the mention. Silva senior smirked at her as she sat down in interest.

He knew.

“Yes, Raymond told me you were his niece. He also told me about your company.”

She picked her cup up with a sigh.

“You two fooled the rest of the world into thinking that you were enemies.” She took a sip. “It seems like that is not the case.”

“We were rivals, but we are also comrades,” he retorted defensively. “But back to the point. He told me about your company, Eidolon.”

She tensed at the name. It was very rare to hear the name of her company. It was both a secret and not. It was vast and well-known but it was strange hearing a Clover citizen discuss it.

“He told me that he was allowed to recommend one person if he wished, to work for your company,” he conjured a sheet of water that materialised into a thick binder of papers. “And he recommended me to your company.” He placed it on the table in front of her. “This was the paperwork and possible contracts I could sign that he gave to me. I have no plans to sit around during my retirement. I want to join the dungeon raiders.”

Aika threw a perplexed look between the papers and the man who stared intently at her for her response.

She opened her mouth open, and snapped it shut when nothing came out. She was at loss for words.

When she asked her Uncle to maybe recommend someone in the future, she meant someone young, adaptable and full of potential. Not a recently retired Magic Knight Captain who is well known to be classist and most likely racist, and too old to learn anything new like a language or a culture.

She was so close to blurting out a rejection but she stilled her tongue. She threw up a polite smile and pretended to sift through the papers in interest.

“I will...consider it,” she finally answered tightly. Silva Senior seemed to be oblivious to her annoyance as he clapped his hands together.

“Well, that’s settled then!” He stood up with her and led her to the door with a wave of his arm.

Aika pursed her lips as he allowed her to pass him. He threw a cold look at her back. He didn’t want to spend any more time in her presence than he had to. He was stubborn but he knew how to pick and choose his battles.

“I must go pick up my maid,” she informed him as they walked in long strides, both eager to relieve themselves of each other’s company.

“Ah, yes of course. I shall show you around the gardens on the way if you don’t mind.” He really didn’t have to but he was just playing the role of a polite lord. And he played it well too. Any sign that they had a heart-to-heart was gone, replaced with brittle formality.

“Thank you, but I have another appointment and I must get to it soon.”

Aika must introduce herself to the Royal Guard, but this time, they will not forget her.

Ellie’s portal directly landed them on the training fields in Clover Castle. Aika adjusted the shoulder brace that clung to her crimson half-cloak that covered her left shoulder. Her longsword hung from her waist, ready to be drawn at a moment’s notice. She appreciated how time magic always helped her get ready quicker.

“And who might you be, porting into Clover Castle without permission?”

Aika looked up and a finger crystallizing with ice was pointed between her eyes, threatening to engulf her any second. She tilted her head to the side to stare at the owner of said finger.

It was the Captain of the Royal Guards, Sal. The rest of the guards were in various groups, exercising or sparring but they all paused to stare at her.

“Hello there, Captain,” she greeted. “You wouldn’t remember but I was the one helping you train your men and I came to reveal my face today.”

Sal raised a brow.

“Is that so?”

He brought his sword up and down in an axe cut where her exposed shoulder was at an unprecedented speed. But Aike blocked it with a dagger she reflexively drew from her forearm where it was strapped.

“Attacking without a warning,” she drawled. “How rude.”

Sal grinned at her.

“No real fight has a countdown.”

She pushed his sword away from her face as he slackened. She took this moment to tie her hair at the nape with a ribbon and drew her sword.

“I see that you wish to test me.”

“Well, Master Raymond did say something about forgetting someone before he left, but I didn’t forget the way they fought.” He rolled his shoulders as his smile fell away and a sharp glint in his eyes surfaced. “Would you mind a spar?”

Aika sighed heavily. Sal wasn’t the one for chit chat, always got to the point in an almost rude fashion. She will make this quick, just as he would prefer it.

“On your mark.”

He threw himself forward with his ice magic propelling his feet and clanged his sword against hers. While Aika pushed with her sword hand and shoulder, she wrapped her other hand around the hilt of his sword where he attached his hand to it with ice so it wouldn’t slip off and she crushed it so the ice encasing it broke.

Sal’s eyes went wide and with the element of surprise, she twisted the sword out of his slippery hand and threw it to the side, far from his reach.

He launched himself upwards with a tall pillar of ice before she could attack him but she laid a hand on it and melted the pillar with her time magic and it instantaneously turned to water. She pretended she had water magic and this just helped solidify that lie.

When he dropped and rolled, Aika quickly moved to kick him to the side mid-roll but he grabbed her ankle and knee and tripped her onto her side. She threw her sword away as she fell and waited for Sal to come close. He tried to pick her up by the leg but she used the momentum to wrap her legs around his thick neck and she squeezed hard .

She rocked forward and backwards as he choked and he toppled face first but he braced himself with his arms. Aika used this opportunity to reach back and grab his ankles and wrenched them backwards so he couldn’t use his legs.

The leg lock around Sal’s neck slackened and so he inserted his hand between her calves and made a tube of ice that forced her legs apart, freeing him from the chokehold. Aika broke away from the ice clinging to her pants and shifted her hips to straddle his back and grabbed his arm and forced it behind him.

“Give up,” she finally said. Sal struggled in her grip and tried to use his musculature to overpower her strength but it was no use. Aika had always had an abnormal amount of physical strength.

He stopped struggling and tapped the ground twice with his free hand.

“I surrender!” His voice strained.

And just like that, she rolled off of his back and offered a hand to him. Sal took the proffered hand and stood up as he rolled his neck with a grimace.

“That grip was not expected at all. What do they even feed you?” He asked as he scratched his beard.

“Same thing as they feed you. I just don’t have a tendency to flex my muscles like you men,” she said lightly as she covered her smile with her hand. Sal was often funny when he wasn’t terrifying his guards to do their job right. Talking to him was always fun and she would be lying if she said she wasn’t happy that she finally got to talk to him as herself and not some faceless cryptid who whooped the guards asses once a week.

“No shit.” The gathered crowd moved closer to listen to the exchange. “You’re covered from head to toe like a nun!”

Aika let out a laugh.

“Far from it actually!”

He leaned in as if to tell her a secret but whispered loudly, “But I would be lying if I said anyone in this castle is a saint.” He thought for a moment. “Well, except maybe the new Wizard King. Met him earlier today. He was really nice and young. Didn’t seem to be ruffled by too much and was full of boundless energy like a puppy.”

Her mind couldn’t help but conjure up images and memories. A wide smile framed by little dimples that kept her distracted. The passionate way he discussed magic without an end. A soft, content look that he would give her when she added onto his rants.

Aika felt her ears burn up. This infatuation was too much. She was not a schoolgirl yet there she was blushing like one.

“Yes, he is like that a lot.”

“Oh, you know him personally?”

She sighed as she let a smile take over her.

“Something like that.”

“Oh.” Sal smirked. “I see.” He cleared his throat. “Well, Madam Tolliver, wasn’t it? My name is Sal, Captain Sal.” He offered a hand for her to shake. “But I’m sure you knew that.”

“I did, and you seem to know mine as well.”

“Master Raymond made sure to brief the entirety of the Castle staff on many things after the final battle.” She nodded in understanding. Sal motioned at the crowd of guards who were speaking in low voices.

“Well, do you have anything to teach or train us for today? We can catch up over drinks later.”

Aika crossed her arms and scanned her surroundings. She recognized some of the faces among the crowd and Evan and Jayce gave her a thumbs up when she spotted them. Ellie moved to lean on the castle wall where the shadows provided reprieve from the afternoon sun. Sal had a mischievous smile that only served to increase the dread among the guards. The rooms overlooking the training grounds were some libraries, conference rooms and some lounges for the Wizard King to use.

Aika took a deep breath. It was hard not being anonymous. She couldn’t just rely on people to forget the things she will say or do in the future now. She had to watch herself in the future or consequences will follow her.

“Last time, some of them mentioned wanting to practice offense and defense because we practiced intelligence gathering last time so I suppose that?”

She looked to Sal for approval.

“Yes, that sounds good. I’ll keep watch.”

He still had that smile on his face and she wasn’t sure why.

“Okay, everyone!” She raised her voice to catch people’s attention. “My name is Aika. You may call me Miss Aika. I was the teacher who had been training you all alongside Captain Sal when Master Raymond was still Wizard King.” The crowd began to murmur amongst themselves at her words. “That being said, we’re going to be practicing offense and defense today.”

Aika drew a circle around her with a sword, a meter wide, as Sal moved away to stand next to Ellie in the shade.

“Your task is very simple. You have to push me out of the circle in any way you see fit. All of you have to do this at the same time. But of course you can’t all crowd me at once because you might hurt your allies so this tests your teamwork too if you wish to work with other people.”

Someone raised their hand.

“Yes?”

“Will you be attacking us too?”

“I will attack if someone attacks me inside the circle but I will not initiate any offense yet. I will also be defending myself. Blocking, deflecting, and cutting down attacks. I may even send back one of your spells back towards you. You are all allowed to attack me however you please. But think of this exercise as a way to coordinate against one enemy so don’t all rush in at once.”

As Aika spoke, they all slowly moved to surround her at a good distance. She could see the gears shifting in their minds as a strategy formed in their heads. Unlike the Magic Knights, who can go on solo missions or in small teams, the Royal Guards must protect the castle as a one big team. These training exercises have been especially frequent the past few years because of the constant wars with Diamond and Spade kingdoms. And since King Augustus had been crowned, he had been especially insistent on everyone being able to protect him.

“I am ready when you are.”

They didn’t even give her a moment to breathe. Everyone on the front line shot their long-ranged spells at her. All the trajectories were different. Some were straight and some were arching over her so it was difficult to simply just jump and let them collide but she had no other option.

Aika jumped high and tried to make it seem natural when she weaved through the ones still in the air and took this moment to see where the next attack was coming from. Close-range fighters readied themselves to ambush her, no doubt going to use the smoke of the spells that exploded below her to their advantage. Her position is set in that little circle so there’s no uncertainty as to where she will be.

When she landed on her feet, amidst the dense smoke, three people leapt towards her, wielding various weapons. Her objective was not only to push them aside but to knock them out or else they will keep coming back. One woman with a spike-less morningstar swung at her but Aika subtly slowed down the force and when another attacker lunged at her back, she sidestepped and sped up his speed and he was smacked right in the shoulder by the woman. She froze in shock at how she accidentally injured her ally.

Aika’s circle was getting cramped so she kicked them both away and used the momentum to kick the next man right in the side of the neck. She studied enough anatomy during her college years to know that she kicked him perfectly in the vagus nerve and he was knocked out cold as his daggers slipped out of his hands.

The smoke dissipated as she rolled him out of the circle with her foot.

She tied her hair up tighter as she taunted,

“Who’s next?”

There was an immediate response.

Golems rose out of the ground, their bodies burning with the enchantments of different elements. She was briefly impressed with how quickly they infused the mana of multiple mages into them.

They all tried to swarm her but she finally drew her sword and swung in a wide arc. As they were all cut in half and the mana escaped, she drew it all to her.

Her head whipped towards a loud cheer that came somewhere from above. The distraction was dangerous but if she was being honest, she had nothing to worry about. What was the worst that could possibly happen?

Aika’s heart jumped when she saw Julius who was waving enthusiastically from a window. He must be using one of the conference rooms that was overlooking the training grounds. A familiar ginger headed man also leaned forward behind the Wizard King in confusion and was surprised to see her when he spotted her. Her heart warmed at the familiar face. It had been weeks since she had seen Fuegoleon and now he was Captain.

She waved at the both of them with her sword hand as she held the other hand up to hold the growing ball of mana. She should go congratulate him as well.

Just as she refocused her attention back to the fight on hand, a figure came lunging at her with a sword but she quickly blocked. Aika couldn’t help but feel surprised when she strained against his strength. She couldn’t see the entirety of the man’s face except for his growing grin. All her instincts seemed to awaken at once, screaming at her to move, but her skepticism and curiosity kept her still.

Then in a strange turn of events, he let the sword slip out of his hand and his other hand seemed to reach for her stomach, but curled into a tight fist and punched her right under her ribs.

For the first time in years, Aika went flying. She was slammed against the castle walls, creating a sizable crater. Her breath was knocked out of her and her head spun but a brief surge of rage quickly sobered her. She thrust her arm out as she whispered,

“Mana Zone: Mana Hands.”

A swarm of invisible hands materialized all around her and one of them quickly brought her sword to her as she picked herself off of the wall.

Aika took in the sight of her opponent who wielded enough strength to punch her that hard.

A young man whose hood covered half of his face, smirked at her as a slight young woman stood next him, wearing a familiar mask framed by flowing blonde hair that spilled out from either side of her, swaying in the wind as she held up a bow, ready to shoot.

Aika had to look twice as her eyes went wide. It seemed like a bizarre dream when the mask stared back at her. It was the same archer who broke her amulet.

Her hand curled around the hilt of her sword.

And they had some nerve coming back to face her head-on.

Notes: There's a fight scene the next chapter and we see Fuegoleon!! WOOO so I'm excited for that🥰 Also, yes, Sal already knew her because the previous Wizard King refreshed his memory in detail but he was just messing around with Aika LMAO

#black clover #julius novachrono #oc: aika tolliver #julius novachrono x reader #julius novachrono x oc #black clover julius #julius & aika #demons run #demons run fic stuff #demons run chapter 11

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tambourmite · 3 years

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Aunty Tam’s Tips

Part 4

✨Learn self defence ✨

First of all, I should probably address this.

Please- just avoid gotham. Don’t come to Gotham.

DON’T. COME. TO. GOTHAM.

I ain’t playin, don’t come to gotham

It’s one of the most dangerous cities there is

It’s practically hell

And for the people who live here, they usually didn’t come here as a choice

They’re either born here, and don’t have enough to move out of the city, or they moved here bc they’re broke

It’s the lowest of the low

Criminals run rampant here

There’s a mfing Insane Asylum that’s extremely outta commission but they use it regardless

It’s considered normal for a mugging or à robbery and it’s treated the same way as seeing a plane flying in the sky or perhaps a bird

On the bright side, gas prices are hella cheap here

Most things are pretty cheap

Anyways, learn some self defence

Once again, It’s Kill or be Killed here

Always be weary of your surroundings

Everyone is capable of jumping you

I’ve literally seen a 90 year old woman rob a guy with her pet Boa Constrictor

ALWAYS be weary of the old folks around here

They’re honestly so gangster af

Just treat them well, and you’re off the danger list

Learn how to punch, kick, hook, etc

I’d say the bare minimum for you to learn is to temporarily blind your attacker and flee

Best option for most fights is to flee, you ain’t being a coward, it’s just self preservation

Wear an extra layer underneath if you can

keep it concealed (you don’t want it sticking out)

It’s not usually warm so it won’t affect you with the extra layers

People usually use knives so i recommend Leather

Carry concealed weapons

Your boots are a great place for some knives or the inside of your coat

Your hat ig

Anyone out there wearing skirts, be sure that you have pockets. If it doesn’t, y’all can pay me 5 bucks and I’ll sew in pockets

Make sure the pockets for your skirt/dress are hidden. Best technique is using the folds from more flowy skirts/dresses

Carry bricks in your bag or purse, you can smack someone with it, gives out extra damage. Not only that, ig it helps with ur strength lol

If you don’t have any, improvise! Heck, channel your inner poc mom! Use la Chànclà, the belt, a wooden spoon, a broom, the clothes hanger, your shoe, the black mom crazy/stink eye glare, etc.

Ladies, you know how the wire from ur bra always ends up poking out? USE THE WIRES FROM THE BRA CUPS AS A WEAPON! (It may not last for long, but it works as brass knuckles)

Some weapons you can use from ur surroundings when you have none: Bricks, Empty beer bottles, YEET a trash can, the trash can lid as a shield, garbage (yeet it at them), sticks, stones, gravel, poles/rods, your phone, keys, YEET a bicycle, newspaper, backpack, glass, plastic bag (try to choke em ig?), pots, spoons, forks, cans, dog leashes (unattach your dog of course) and many moreee.

However, if you’re getting robbed by one of the rogues, just comply, it ain’t worth fighting back. (Just wait till one of the heroes arrive)

Try and build your stamina up

If you’re cornered into an alley, use your surroundings to escape

Basically, just parkour

If ur someone (This goes for everyone <3) who likes to wear heels, learn how to run in them

People won’t expect you to zoom like Sonic in them heels

Heels also prove to be an excellent weapon

That’s actually why strippers aren’t usually mugged lol. They usually have Cat Woman or Red hood watching their backs but Even if they aren’t there to save them, the strippers will gouge out your eye with their heels they’re honestly the baddest b’s

Size doesn’t matter

A street kid that’s three times smaller than you will beat yo ass

#gotham city #gothamite #only in gotham #onlyingotham #the strippers in gotham are baddies #only in gotham rp #dc rp blog #dcu #dc universe #aunty tam #Aunty tam’s tips #surviving in gotham #how to survive in Gotham #Batman #red hood #cat woman #gotham rogues

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kenobiapologist · 3 years

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Star Wars Novel Rankings

In celebration of the end of this year, I made a tier list of all of the Star Wars novels I’ve read since I joined this fandom in 2017 (which you can use to rank these books too). And I named all the tiers in a dorky but appropriate fashion. I would love to hear your thoughts on my rankings, as well as how you’d rank the books yourself! I’ve had a blast reading Star Wars novels from both Disney’s canon and the Legends extended universe over these past 3 years. Here’s to many more years of reading stories from the galaxy far far away!

I put longer (but not more coherent) thoughts below the cut.

The Chosen One: Bringing Balance to the Force and My Depressed Soul

1. The first spot of top tier had to go to Matthew Stover’s Revenge of the Sith novelization for obvious reasons. You simply cannot beat it. It’s a masterpiece. I literally had to put the book down to scream when I read the prose associated with the opening battle over Coruscant. It gave a whole new meaning to the triumphant music and the synchronous twirling of Obi-Wan and Anakin’s starfighters as they weave through blaster-fire in the battle over Coruscant. The rest of the book is the same way. You can’t put it down. I have wAyyYyYy too many feelings about this book oh my god.

2. Thrawn was a surprising book for me. For being centered on an admiral of the Empire’s navy, it had so much heart in it! I loved reading from Eli Vanto’s perspective too. god dammit I love that freaking Wild Space hillbilly dweeb with all my heart. I think his experiences getting to know Thrawn and learning from him guides the reader to feel much the same way as Eli by the end. Thrawn is a trusted friend, not the enemy you expect him to be. I could have done without Arihnda Pryce but she’s supposed to be unlikeable so I won’t blame Timothy Zahn this time.

3. The Clone Wars Gambit duology is basically Karen Miller writing fanfic and I’m HERE FOR IT. As is tradition with Karen Miller’s Star Wars novels, the emotions are dialed up the eleven. Our favorite dumbass Jedi team is back at it again with a mission to save the galaxy and this time they end up going undercover as two lumberjacks from the boonies. Anakin holds an energy shield back from collapsing with his bare hands like a total badass. Obi-Wan is in love with another woman despite it always ending in tragedy, while also bickering like a married couple with Anakin every ten seconds. get a fucking room, you two. These two books inspired one of my fics so they’re near and dear to my heart.

Jedi Master: These Books Have A Seat On The Council Too

4. Wild Space was appropriately named, I’ll tell you that. It’s a wild ride from start to finish. *slaps the front cover* this book can fit so much of Obi-Wan’s suffering in it! @forcearama has elaborated on the many reasons why this book is a gem in Snark Wars blog posts (linked here). It’s also the beginning of the best team-up since Anakin and Obi-Wan...Bail and Obi-Wan! These two bastards get under each other’s skin but it makes for the perfect character development. This book is the reason I screech with delight whenever Bail Organa appears on screen, or is mentioned in conversation. Bail gets a mysterious tip about trouble on a planet, and Obi-Wan decides to go with him to investigate. Cue Sith-induced suffering. It’s cool to see a normal person experiencing the weirdness of Force sensitives and how the world has this extra level of sensory information in it. Plotwise this one isn’t the best, but I think the interactions between characters really shine in this novel. Karen Miller’s writing is like a cup of hot chocolate to me. Indulgent character insight, full of sweet moments, has a bunch of extra marshmallowy dialogue, you’re reading it to have a good time but not to be satisfied with plot. You get me?

5. Do I even have to explain myself here? Kenobi by John Jackson Miller is both an interesting western-style tale set on Tatooine, and a beautiful character study of a man stricken with grief he keeps suppressed. How does one continue on when their whole family was murdered and their whole culture burnt to ash? I wanted to give Obi-Wan a hug the entire time I read this. The characterization was spot-on, from the way he wrangled animals to the way he severed a man’s arm off in a bar with his lightsaber. And when he meets a woman named Annileen Calwell, or Annie for short, Obi-Wan can’t bring himself to call her by her nickname ever and if that doesn’t just break your damn heart fucking fuck.

6. Ahsoka was the first Disney canon book I ever read and it kickstarted my love for E.K. Johnston. The writing is simplistic, but that makes it easy to jump into. Overall, it’s a quick and enjoyable read. By far the best parts are the flashbacks that mull over memories Ahsoka has of the time before Order 66. That shit hits you right in the heart, man. And the part where Ahsoka equates Obi-Wan and Anakin to her adoptive family ohhhhhhh god the tears they flow like a river. There are scenes that allude to Ahsoka becoming the vital part of the Rebellion we know her to be from Rebels, balanced with her current struggles to survive and find herself. Despite having cast away her identity as a Jedi and having any remaining bits of her culture destroyed by Palpatine, Ahsoka shows us all how bright a hero can shine in the darkest of times. AND SHE WAS WRITTEN AS QUEER! finally some good fucking food.

7. Oh shit, another E.K. Johnston book? Don’t be surprised. She’s a prequel fan and so am I, hence why Queen’s Shadow is so high on the list. E.K. Johnston pays homage to our favorite queen and badass senator Padme Amidala. There’s politics, there’s solidarity between female characters, and Bail Organa is in it so you KNOW I simply must give it a high rating. All jokes aside, I thought the story added lots of little details to the world of Star Wars without it being all stereotypical sci-fi nerdy language. You know how people want to describe something beyond our technological capabilities so they throw a bunch of nonsense together like “pre-praxis crystal bio-anode circuitry”? I’m looking at you, Karen Miller, I love you but please. There is none of that in this book. It makes sense, it adds color and culture and life to the worlds of Star Wars. Most of all, it devotes time and love to developing Padme outside of her place in canon as Anakin’s wife, Queen of Naboo, and Senator. She is all of these things, but she’s human too. I do agree that the pacing is slow, but it’s something meant to be savored, I think. E.K. Johnston really shines when she’s writing dialogue because she gets these characters. That’s something to appreciate, because not all canon books agree with the way we’ve perceived the characters as an audience.

8. Rogue Planet chewed me up, spit me out, and declared me an even bigger stan for The Team. People who say Qui-Gon would have been a better master for Anakin can ~get out~ because I could read about these two hooligans getting neck deep in space shenanigans all damn day. Anakin is like twelve, which is a time in his training that we don’t get a lot of in canon. Personally, I think it was equal parts heartwarming and funny to read about their adventures. There is some angst sprinkled in there because hey, we’re reading about Anakin here, let’s not forget the emotional trainwreck that is Anakin Skywalker. The duo is sent to a planet that makes super fast ships that are ?sentient? or at least biologically active. They bond with the pilot, which makes Anakin perfect for this mission. There’s a scene where these little floof things attach all over tiny Anakin because he’s so strong in the Force and it’s god damn adorable how dare he?? I’d probably rate this one even higher if I read it again, but it’s been awhile. Characterization is spot on and reminiscent of Matthew Stover’s writing in how it highlights the strong bond between Obi-Wan and Anakin, how they’re fated to know each other. I’m a sucker for soulmates, what can I say?

9. Lost Stars reads like a movie. Not a script, but just the perfect amount of detail that you can imagine the scenes but the pacing is still quick, the dialogue smooth and natural. I couldn’t help wishing this was a film because the story was so all-encompassing. The highs and lows of the emotions of both protagonists, their relationship developing, the differences in culture. Folks, this book has it all! It’s a totally different perspective on the events of the original trilogy, seen from the side of Imperial cadets training to become pilots. Eventually, one splits off and joins the Rebellion while the other perseveres in the Empire. It’s like star-crossed lovers, but covers so much more ground than that. And the characters are fully developed. These original characters knocked my socks off, and that’s hard to do since I’m usually an Obi-Wan stan through and through. For anyone uncertain of reading Star Wars novels, this book is a great place to start. Action-packed, emotion-filled, and stands on its own despite weaving perfectly into the established universe. What more could you want?

10. Back at it again with the prequel shit, amiright? Queen’s Peril is E.K. Johnston’s most recent Padme-centric novel and it does not disappoint fans that wanted a taste of the Queen’s side of the story. Set during the events of The Phantom Menace, we get a “behind the curtain” look at how all of the handmaidens came to be more than their title suggests. There’s teenage girls getting stuff done! It makes more sense why Padme was elected ruler of her home-world, and you come to appreciate that a royal leader is not alone; there’s actually a whole team at her side to help her overcome everything from the drudgery of daily governing to Trade Federation blockades that threaten to starve her people. I think if you enjoyed Queen’s Shadow, you’ll enjoy this book a lot. For those that are unfamiliar with Johnston’s work, I wouldn’t recommend this one first because it does cover events you’ve already seen in movies and therefore is a less suspenseful companion to them. On the other hand, because it does tie in with TPM, it doesn’t suffer from the pacing issues of Queen’s Shadow to the same degree. I read this all in one sitting, so it’s definitely fun, but wasn’t compelling enough in its character development to elevate the book past some of the others I’ve listed already.

11. Thrawn: Treason was a refreshing return to the Grand Admiral we all know and love after the second installment in this series slowed things down a bit. Although it wasn’t as character-driven as the first book (which I love with all of my heart), there were still many moments that had me cackling at the disparity between Thrawn’s immense intellect and the other Imperials’ sheer stupidity, and that’s what we’re here for in a book about the Empire, right? There’s a lot of pressure on Thrawn, as his TIE Defender project has been pitted against Director Krennic’s Project Stardust. Who will get the funds? We just don’t know?? Tarkin sits in between the two and as usual, manipulates everything to his advantage. Palpatine questions Thrawn’s allegiance to the Empire after some of the choices he has made, leaving him in even more of a pickle. Thrawn is sent on a wild goose chase task that should definitely end in failure (on purpose because Imperials all want to watch each other burn as much as they want to watch the Rebellion burn), but you know Thrawn will find a way. My main squeeze Eli Vanto makes his return after being absent from book 2. Missed you, my sweet sweet country boy. He doesn’t have a leading role in this novel, but every scene he’s in makes the story better. Thrawn says “perhaps” way too often for my taste, but if you can ignore that, this book is a solid read. Equal parts action and deductive reasoning, as any Thrawn book should be.

12. Most of Dark Disciple had me thinking this was going to be a top tier book, and damn do I wish we could have gotten this animated. We follow Quinlan Vos and Asajj Ventress on a mission to assassinate Count Dooku. Why the Jedi thought this was a good idea, I don’t know. But I’m here for it all the same. 3/4 of the adventure were intriguing, but the ending didn’t do it for me. I won’t spoil things for anyone who hasn’t read this yet, but after all of the character development, to have it squandered so quickly just left me disappointed? I got really attached to everyone in this novel, and I’m sure you will to. I’ve read this and listened to it as an audiobook, and actually I think it’s more memorable as an audiobook. Would recommend, except for Mace Windu’s voice being exceptionally southern for no reason. Weird. I think this novel captures all of the great things about The Clone Wars show; time to really get to know each character and their motivations, action and adventure with the darkness of impending doom tinting everything, and lightsaber fights! Plus, Obi-Wan and Anakin make appearances in this book and it just adds that extra bit of spice. Worth the read, even if you know they aren’t going to get Dooku in the end (which I am still mad about, screw that guy).

Jedi Knight: Passed the Trials but There’s Room for Improvement

13. Few books in the Star Wars universe are centered around characters with no use of the Force, but in Most Wanted, we see a young Han Solo and Qi’ra struggling to survive on Corellia and it provides a humorous but compelling backstory to both characters in the Disney canon. Han is his usual lucky goofball self, and Qi’ra is smart and cunning. You can see how they grew into the versions of themselves in Solo. While the book stays on the lighter side of things (typical of stories written for a younger audience), there are still moments of depth on droid rights, viewing the Force as a religion, and what life is like in a crime syndicate. Addressing these heavier topics without it killing the pace of the story is hard to do, but Rae Carson pulls it off flawlessly. I went into this book with no expectations and was pleasantly surprised by how much fun I had. Han and Qi’ra start off as competitors, but eventually have to learn to work together to survive as more and more people start hunting them down. They’re honestly so cute together, I loved their dynamic. It makes Solo a better movie, and although I liked it on its own, characters like Qi’ra needed a little more time to get to know, which you can get here!

14. Thrawn Alliances was not what I expected at all, and it took me a lot longer to get through. Hell, it has Thrawn, Anakin/Vader, and Padme in it! What’s not to love? Apparently, a lot. The different timepoints and perspectives in this were more jarring than anything else. Although the interactions between Thrawn and Anakin/Vader were enjoyable, it was not enough to elevate this book into the Jedi Master tier. Things felt dry, the characters didn’t grip me like in the first Thrawn, and it all felt like a ploy to introduce Batuu into canon before the launch of Galaxy’s Edge.

15. Leia: Princess of Alderaan was a dive into young Leia’s life before we see her in A New Hope even though this was marketed as a journey to The Last Jedi book, which I disagree with. We really haven’t seen any content about Leia in this time period before, and although I can’t say I was looking for this, I did enjoy it. The book was a little long, but there was adventure and the seeds are planted for Leia to be a bigger part of the Rebellion. The romance wasn’t too memorable, but Holdo wasn’t pointless in this (a stark contrast to her brief appearance in TLJ just to sacrifice herself). There’s a hint about Leia being Force-sensitive but it’s not in-your-face. It’s a typical coming-of-age story but in the gffa. The best part about this is seeing Bail and Breha as parents. I’m forever in pain that we didn’t get to see more of this in movies because it’s so so sweet. Leia must choose what kind of person she is going to be--and what kind of princess she will become. It won’t be for everyone, but I liked it.

16. Master and Apprentice was a typical Star Wars novel, which means it’s full of original characters that are strange and outlandish to serve the plot, a new world full of beautiful landscapes, and Obi-Wan suffering. I want to make it clear that this book is 80% Qui-Gon, 10% Rael Averross, and 10% Obi-Wan. I was expecting it to be 50% Qui-Gon, 50% Obi-Wan, as the cover suggested. Although I was disappointed by that, the story overall was okay. Qui-Gon is kind of an asshole in this? When is he not, though. We really get to sink our teeth into the way he and Obi-Wan fundamentally disagree with each other, so much so that their teacher-student relationship is falling apart. Tragic! They go on one last mission before calling it quits. Qui-Gon is in over his head with prophecies, Obi-Wan just wants to follow the rules, and Rael Averross is Dooku’s previous apprentice that is living his best life as a regent until Pijal’s princess comes of age. Don’t get me wrong, it’s a solid book. I just don’t vibe with Qui-Gon and want to whack him upside the head every time he avoids confrontation with his own student. My protectiveness for Obi-Wan is showing again, isn’t it? Yikes.

17. James Luceno is one of the most analytical authors I’ve ever read anything from, but it seems to always work? Tarkin is all about...well, Moff Tarkin. He’s ruthless, intelligent, and just downright evil. His backstory was compelling and I found myself drawn into the story by the details, although it is dense and took awhile to finish. I’m not interested in him as a character, but despite that, I enjoyed this story. The plot wasn’t memorable enough for me to recall after 3 years, but it’s similar to how Thrawn rose through the ranks of the Navy, just in a different part of the Empire’s governing body. We don’t get many books completely focused on a villain (I don’t count Vader ones because we know who he was before and the whole damn saga is about him), but this one is good! Don’t be fooled by it only being in the Knight tier. I think people who read a lot of sci-fi will like this book a lot. This is like the opposite of Queen’s Shadow, basically. If you had gripes about that book, you might like this one instead.

18. Battlefront II: Inferno Squad was a worthwhile read for anyone who played Battlefront II. Iden Versio is a great protagonist in the game, and I think Christie Golden totally gets her character. She’s nuanced and relatable. The whole team is interesting and getting introduced to each member before the events of the game makes everything mean more. That’s the real goal of any prequel story, I think. Accomplished! The action scenes are on point, the plot served to highlight what makes Inferno Squad special, and you get a sense for the morally grey area anyone must function in as an operative for the Empire. Although not necessary for the greater canon, it’s a great adventure. Iden and her squad members infiltrate the remains of Saw Gerrara’s group (they’ve become a bit of extremist) and destroy them from the inside. It’s got the suspense of a spy thriller and all of the nerdy space opera elements you expect from Star Wars. Although it’s weird to jump into a story not knowing any of the characters, you’ll get attached to Inferno Squad fast. Well, except for Gideon Hask maybe. He’s kind of a dick.

19. If you’re craving some Dark Side action, Lords of the Sith will give you what you’re looking for. Sidious and Vader crash-land on Ryloth and have to work together to survive, and also defeat the Free Ryloth Movement led by Cham Syndulla. It’s all fucking connected, guys. I love when people weave together stories that fit into the canon timeline like this, bringing in side characters and allowing them to develop some depth. And a chance to sink into the mind of a Sith Lord is always fun, if you’re in the mood to read about destruction and anger. It’s cathartic sometimes. If you’re always wondering, why didn’t Vader just stab Palps when he had the chance, this book explains their dynamic more. It didn’t really change my opinion of any of the characters, which is why it’s not higher on the list.

20. Catalyst suffered from being in a really boring part of galactic history. Despite that, Galen Erso and Orson Krennic have a hilarious relationship that I would have loved to see on-screen. This book really develops Krennic to become more than just the whiny entitled evil man we saw in Rogue One. He’s ten times worse now! But I mean that in the best way, I laugh whenever he’s in a scene, that sassy man just brings me joy. James Luceno is at it again, making things as detailed and dry as possible. I read so many of his stories right at the beginning of my journey through Star Wars canon and it’s a wonder I didn’t quit. Some of them are dark as fuck. And also slow as hell. With this one, I think it all comes down to what you want out of a Star Wars novel. Some people will really enjoy the plot. I think seeing how Galen became a part of Project Stardust was interesting and every time something about the Death Star became more clear, I screeched because I knew what it would eventually become. This book may not hold your interest though, which is why I put it lower on this list.

21. Star Wars: Clone Wars was a decent retelling of the Clone Wars movie. I liked it because I liked the movie, but you have to be able to sit back and enjoy the ride, not thinking too much about the silly parts. For that reason, it’s pretty far down in the rankings. Ahsoka is young and liable to get on your nerves. I certainly wasn’t her biggest fan at this point in the series. The biggest problem is that Karen Traviss is very anti-Jedi. Some authors for Star Wars tend to do this? To me, it’s weird. I didn’t notice it too much because it was one of the first Star Wars books I read, but it contrasts starkly with the truth of the prequel trilogy and some of the other entries in the Clone Wars Novel timeline, like Karen Miller’s books. Needless to say, although this book wasn’t super memorable aside from the familiar plot, it kept me reading Star Wars books, and so it is at least an average book. Plus, any content with Anakin and the clones is worth it for me. I love them.

22. A New Hope was good, for Alan Dean Foster. I’m not a fan, I’ll be honest. But this novelization stands on it’s own. I’m going to have to do a re-read to really go in depth on why this isn’t farther up on the tier list, but the movie is always going to be better to me. If you want to re-live the great beginning of the Original Trilogy, it’s worth your time. I mean, the story is full of adventure and mystery and lovable characters. What’s not to love? I just feel like the movie really elevates the narrative with a great score and fun character design/costumes/sets.

Padawan: These Books Have Much to Learn

23. Attack of the Clones was more entertaining than The Phantom Menace because the characters are in funnier situations. Obi-Wan and Anakin chasing Zam Wesell through the levels of Coruscant? Hilarious, just like the movie. Anakin and Padme falling in love as they spend time together? Holy fuck it’s so much better than the movie. Please read it for that alone. Outside of that, the writing style didn’t really impress me. And my experience with it wasn’t super memorable. There was potential to really make the inner dialogue of these characters impactful, to really develop the story of Obi-Wan, Anakin, and Padme beyond what we could get from the movie scenes alone. I didn’t think it went above and beyond there. Not a bad story at all, but you don’t get to look at Hayden Christensen, Natalie Portman, or Ewan McGregor the whole time either, so therefore I must rank it lower. So many beautiful people in that movie, holy shit. You can understand my, dilemma, yes?

24. I enjoyed parts of The Phantom Menace book, like deleted scenes with Anakin living on Tatooine before Qui-Gon and Padme meet him. The additional depth is lovely, but I think a story like Queen’s Peril adds more to TPM than this book does. The story overall is still fun. I love this movie so much, it’s hard for me to be critical. I did put a lot of post-it flags in my copy, so it does develop the characters and get you thinking beyond your expectations from the movie. What more could you ask for from a movie novelization? I’d say not much, if I hadn’t read Revenge of the Sith and had my fucking mind blown. In comparison to that, this one is just okay.

25. The Last Jedi novelization wasn’t bad, necessarily. It tried its best to bring this story up to par with some of the interesting novels that don’t have movie counterparts. But still, the plot suffers because of how this movie was made. It’s very focused on Rey and Kylo, and Finn’s little adventure with Rose seems pointless in the grand scheme of things. I’d rather read this again versus watching the film, but that’s all I’ll say on this because I’m trying to keep my opinions on this movie to myself to avoid digging up old arguments. Jason Fry did well, and of the two Sequel Trilogy books I’ve read, I would recommend this one over Ep. 7.

26. The Force Awakens falls short and I think it’s because of Alan Dean Foster’s writing style on this one? It didn’t really expand on anything from the movie, while taking away the beautiful music and visuals. This novel is the antithesis of Revenge of the Sith’s novelization, and for that reason I ranked it fairly low. I wouldn’t read this one unless you really really love the Sequel Trilogy.

27. To be fair, I read the new Thrawn book before I went back and read this one. Even so, Heir to the Empire didn’t impress me at all. Thrawn didn’t seem like a thrilling villain with lots of depth like he did in Timothy Zahn’s reimagined Thrawn novel. We barely saw him. A lot of time was spent on the Original Triology’s trio, which waasn’t bad. I thought Luke, Leia, and Han were all written fairly well. The latter part of the story was redeemed by the interactions between Mara Jade and Luke, for sure. Enemies to lovers, anyone?? Without Thrawn, this book would have been an entertaining story, but for all of the praise it has received from long-time Star Wars fans, I was expecting to be blown away and I wasn’t. Maybe I have to continue the triology to figure out what all of the fuss is about, but after this one, I’m not super motivated to read more. Change my mind?

28. Cloak of Deception really shines when you’re following Palpatine’s perspective because you can feel the undercurrents of his master plan to destroy the Republic underneath his calm persona as a Senator. Other than that, it’s a forgettable plot. This is all about galactic politics and some terrorist group trying to blow up some government officials. Basically the most boring parts of the prequel trilogy. I listened to the audiobook of this at the beginning of this year and I already forget what it’s about. Qui-Gon and Obi-Wan should have been able to bring some humor and energy to get you rooting for the good guys, but there was barely any of that. I was disappointed in all of the characters. Everything felt distant, removed from the heart of the characters. Some people in reviews have argued that the events of The Phantom Menace really pinned this novel in a corner because you already know what happens, but I disagree, because we know how Revenge of the Sith goes and The Clone Wars show is that much more tragic and heartbreakingly beautiful because of it. Prequels can be done right. This ain’t it, Luceno. Sorry.

29. Star Wars: The Old Republic, Fatal Alliance needs to go home and rethink it’s life. I’m a huge fan of the Old Republic and I’ve put like 200 hours of my life into playing that game, so I was hoping for some fun content in this part of the timeline. Sadly, this book captured the worst parts of the game, like the fact that there’s way too many factions at war with each other. Jedi, Sith, Empire, Republic, Mandalorians. They’re all here. They’re all ready to throw down. And I’m tired. As with many of the books in this lower tier, I felt there wasn’t enough description of the world or the people in the story. We’re in the gffa, be a little weird and wacky. Be big and bold! Make things terrifying, or beautiful, or both. But give my mind something to work with. The number of characters made the plot messier than it could have been, and it definitely isn’t worth the read. I can’t speak for all Old Republic books, but this one didn’t impress me.

A Sith Lord?! On My Bookshelf? It’s More Likely Than You’d Think

30. So underwhelming, you might as well just read the first half and then stop. Last Shot is absolutely terrible, except for Lando Calrissian’s characterization, which was spot-on. If the whole story had been from his perspective, I probably would have a much difference opinion on the novel as a whole. Sadly, this is not the case. Han was boring, he bottled up his emotions, and seemed drastically different from the badass he was in the original trilogy. There are different timepoints in this novel, and in all of them, Han is unrecognizable. Don’t nerf one of your main characters like that. Daniel Jose Older and I might just not get along. I thought his writing style didn’t fit Star Wars at all. It was like breaking the fourth wall, totally pulling me out of the story constantly. Also, there were little to no descriptions of body language, locations, or movement. It left me feeling disoriented the whole time I was reading. I thought one of the most interesting things would have been seeing Han, Leia, and baby Ben being a family at this point in time, but Han’s family was there as a prop, nothing more. There was a big bad item that was going to cause galactic destruction and our heroes had to go save the day. There was barely any tension and no one lost an arm so I’m pretty pissed off. Is it Star Wars if no one gets their appendage removed? I can’t tell you how much I disliked this book. Which is sad because I was hoping to enjoy it. I like Han. I like Lando. I like space adventures. I’m not that hard to please, or at least I don’t think so.

#Star Wars Novels #tier ranking #long post #i worked hard to put my thoughts into words for you guys #i read these books over a long period of time but I thought I'd encompass all of it in one post #sw lit #i've had so much fun becoming a part of this fandom #and I love the conversations about the books and the gffa in general #hopefully this will inspire some discussion!#i would love you guys to make tier rankings as well #they're always my favorite youtube videos to watch

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wolfstar-in-color · 3 years

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What Are Image Descriptions and Why Are They Necessary?

Hello, colorful cuties! In the ongoing spirit of Disability Pride Month, we want to take some time this week to talk about image descriptions! Maybe you’ve noticed, we add these to every image we share, and we’d love to see a bit more attention to these in the wider, wonderful world of the wolfstar fandom.

So, first things first: what is an image description?

For the most part, it’s exactly what it sounds like: a textual description that details, in words, what is depicted in an image, graphic, or gifset.

Why are they necessary?

Two reasons. First, to make your visual content accessible to blind and low-vision folks, or folks who - for a variety of reasons - cannot look at the image (some examples would be people experiencing severe headaches or migraines exasperated by images or bright colors, people with severe color-sensitive epilepsy, autistic people with low tolerance for imagery, etc.). Many blind, low-vision, or otherwise visually sensitive people use text readers or Braille converters, which read aloud or convert to Braille the words on the screen - but most of them don’t know what to do with images, and thus skip them all together (the technology required to automatically describe images is coming! Exciting!) Second, to make your visual accessible to people without access to technology robust enough to support the image, for example, rural folks without access to broadband internet strong enough to load digital images.

Sure, but that can’t be that many people, right?

It’s more than you might think. 253 million people worldwide are blind or low-vision [source]. That’s more than 3% of everyone (and yes, I had to google that equation). In addition, 6% of the population of the United States does not have access to consistent broadband internet [source]. In Australia, that number is more than double [source]. Basically, what we’re saying is, that’s a lot of people who can’t engage with your wonderful visual work.

What kind of things need an image description?

Visual art (such as the amazing fanart so prolific in our fandom) is an obvious example, but gifsets, tiktoks, and videos of any kind also need image descriptions, as well as banners and headers.

Image descriptions are awkward, and I don’t know how to write them.

That’s okay, you’re not alone! If you’ve never written or encountered an image description, it can seem daunting and uncomfortable. We invite you to try it anyway! Throughout the rest of this week, we’ll be highlighting some useful resources and tip sheets on how to do this better.

I want to start writing Image Descriptions for some of the older art I love, but I’m worried I’ll describe something in a way that is offensive or incorrect.

We also worry about that, we’re still in the learning process too. We’ve learned that it’s important to include such things as skin color and race, body shapes, landscapes, etc., even when it feels awkward. Luckily, people much more qualified than us have some thoughts on doing this better. Stay tuned for our Resources Wednesday!

I’ve made some new visual content that I really want to share, but I’m not great with words - what can I do to make sure my work is still accessible?

You know your work best, and as such, you’re the best person to describe it. But if you just can’t find the words - or the task is prohibitively overwhelming to you, or maybe comes up against your own disabilities or limitations - that’s okay! We’d recommend asking a friend (maybe a fandom friend!) to help you out, or if you can afford it, paying a service or person to do it for you. Similarly, if you are someone who is good with words and descriptions, maybe offer to do them for your fandom friends!

Can I put it off and add it later?

Ask yourself this: would you upload an image/gifset/video that was incomplete? Well, maybe some of you would. But for the most part, you probably have a process. Maybe you outline a drawing, add shading, add color, and then upload (can you tell I’m not an artist?). Maybe you edit your gifs or videos a certain way. A piece of visual art without an image description is incomplete - it cannot be “seen” by a significant chunk of the population, and both you and we want your work to be seen! So we’d recommend just tacking adding an image description onto the end of your process.

Okay, you’ve convinced me that image descriptions are necessary. What’s a good way to get started?

Stay tuned the remainder of this week for guides, tips, and an account from one of your mods about their own experience of becoming more comfortable with image descriptions. Or, just jump right on in! We hope to see more of these in our glorious fandom soon.

#Image Descriptions #Accesibility #HP Fandom #Wolfstar Fandom #Wolfstar

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nugnthopkns · 3 years

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tell you i miss you but i don’t know how

word count: 2.7k

warnings: insinuated fem!reader, a singular swear word, it’s kinda angsty i guess

recommended listening: the story of us | taylor swift

a/n: long time hockey fan, long time reader, first time writer. i’ve been thinking about posting for a while and decided to bite the bullet. no time like the present i suppose. tagging some folks i feel might be interested (but there’s literally zero pressure please feel free to ignore) @matbaerzal @davidpastrsnack @troubatrain @jamiedrysdales

Breaking up was for the best.

You repeat the phrase like a mantra. It’s the first thing you think when you wake up, in the back of your mind as you sit in your cubicle, and verbally repeated anytime you pass a mirror. Deep down you know it’s right; you and Tyson aren’t on compatible lifepaths, and that’s okay. You just wish it didn’t hurt so much to say goodbye. He’s an easy person to miss, with his infectious smile and quick wit. Tyson’s the only person who’s made you laugh so hard tears roll down your cheek; the one who always picked up a bag of pretzels on his way home from the rink so you could have a snack after work. Though you didn’t expect to get over him quickly, you had no idea you’d still miss him nearly a year later. Or that it would hurt so much every time you see him in public.

♠♠♠♠♠

The bar offers a reprieve from the brisk Denver wind. October has been unusually chilly so far, but the bodies packed like sardines in the open room create all the heat insulation you need. It’s a Friday night and you’re hoping to unwind after a stressful week at work. It’s audit season, meaning you’ve had to pull crazy late nights as you read over the financial records of the firm’s junior partners. Today was particularly terrible, with the computer system crashing, and you really need a drink. Your friends are supposed to meet you, but a text confirms that traffic is heavier than they anticipated and they’re running late.

Not wanting to waste precious time, you head straight for the only empty space at the bar. A bartender a few years older than you sees you approach and leans close to hear your order over the thumping bass. “Could I just grab a gin and tonic?” you ask, and she smiles before turning away to make your drink. A minute later a drink is placed in your hand and you scour the venue for a table. A small booth is available in the corner; the perfect size for your party. It turns out to be the perfect spot for people watching, and you casually sip your drink and occasionally scroll through instagram while you wait. A text from your friend alerts you everyone is fifteen minutes out. Though it’s pretty crowded everyone seems to be congregating on the dance floor so you don’t hesitate to leave your table and order a second drink.

This gin and tonic goes down easier than the first, and soon you’re on your third. There’s still no sign of your friends anywhere and the balls of your feet ache from the heels you wore to the office today. You abandon your plan to meet them at the door, firing off a text giving your location in the venue. Once sitting down, you take off your shoes and rub at your feet. Why did you choose today to abide by the dress code? You typically wore a discreet pair of sneakers and wished you could go back in time to change your shoe choice.

“I see you’re still drinking gin and can’t wear heels for more than two hours.”

His voice sends shivers down your spine. You look up to see Tyson smiling down at you, and the room spins around you. The entire reason you picked this bar was because it was the only one the boys didn’t frequent, but it seems they’re here anyways.

“I’m consistent,” you say, trying to keep your voice even. The sight of Tyson makes your heart clench. He looks good, glowing the way that means the team came out with a win and that he played well and put up some points.

Tyson nods to the empty seat across from you, and against your better judgement you allow him to sit. A small section of your brain thinks he’s going to confess he’s been miserable the last few months, that he’s still madly in love with you. It seems to be the part controlling the rest of your body. “That’s one thing that’ll never change. How’s work?”

You hum wistfully, wishing he wouldn’t make small talk. How is this so easy for him? “Busy,” you sigh. “It’s audit season so the department is swamped. The boys still causing issues?”

“They’re annoying as ever.” He smiles at you again. The sick feeling in your stomach doesn’t subside. Tyson gives you a quick recap of the Avs’ season so far, and you half pay attention. You’ve gone to great lengths to avoid seeing him: switched the way you drive home, where you hang out with friends, what grocery store you go to. It’s a little ironic he’d find you here of all places.

Idle chatter occurs for a while. Tyson’s talking to you like he’s reuniting with a childhood friend, not an ex-lover. As much as you find the conversation uncomfortable, you can’t turn him away. You miss sitting with him, talking about anything under the sun. Life hasn’t been as bright since the break up. No matter how hard you try, nothing fills the Tyson sized hole in your heart. In a twisted way his presence is comforting, a reminder of what once was. Eventually his teammates realize he’s gone missing and come to whisk him away.

“See you around Y/N,” Tyson says, a little bewildered because J.T is dragging him by the belt loops.

All you can croak out is a feeble “Yeah.” He doesn’t look back once he’s away from the table. You shouldn’t have expected him to; he seems to be doing fine. Well even. Every step he takes breaks your heart a little more, and you curse yourself for missing him and down the rest of your drink.

Your friends find you crying in the bathroom and usher you home.

♠♠♠♠

Despite being separated from Tyson, you’re still close with some members of the Avalanche extended family. Mel Landeskog continually reaches out, ensuring you’re doing the best you can given the circumstances. It isn’t easy when your ex-boyfriend is the pride of Denver, plastered over every billboard in a fifteen mile radius of the city. When she called to ask if you’d emergency babysit Linnea while she ran errands you jumped at the opportunity to help.

“Thank you so much,” Mel says, cooing to her daughter who’s comfortably placed in your arms.

“It’s not a problem,” you insist, “I’m just glad I can finally start repaying you for everything you’ve done for me.”

She shakes her head and rolls her eyes, telling you to text her if you need anything picked up at the store. You’re then left alone with the baby who is luckily one of the happiest you’ve ever seen. The first hour or so is spent entertaining Linnea with various toys and games. Her smile and laugh melt your heart, and your mind briefly flashes to conversations you had about children with Tyson. You push them from your mind, not wanting to lose your focus. The child in front of you is the one that matters, not the hypothetical one from times past. Around two she gets fussy; a bottle and quick diaper change satiate her.

“You having fun pretty girl?” you coo. “I’m not always the most exciting to be around.” She doesn’t respond; just looks up at you with heavy lids. You pull her closer to your chest, rocking gently back and forth on your heels. Within minutes she’s soundly asleep and you head upstairs to place her in the crib.

Back on the main floor, you settle into the corner of the couch. The baby monitor is on the coffee table and you keep your laptop at a low volume to ensure you’d hear anything. You sift through the mess in your inbox, deleting promotional emails and replying to those that need your attention. After killing half an hour, you quickly check on Linnea before scrolling through social media. According to twitter the Avalanche are on a six game winning streak and are looking to keep it alive. You honestly could care less about hockey anymore; it’s a painful reminder that Tyson is no longer yours. In truth you’re happy for the team because they work hard and deserve it. Other social media platforms yield nothing of interest and you soon feel yourself nodding off. Looking at the clock you realize there’s about an hour left in the baby’s nap, so you let yourself sleep.

A knock on the door startles you awake. Careful not to cause a commotion that could wake Linnea you head in the direction of the entryway. The knocking increases as you approach, and you open the door to a disheveled Tyson.

“What are you doing here?” You didn’t mean for the question to come off so rude, but it does.

He pays it no mind. “Is Gabe home yet?”

“No,” you sputter. “I’m watching Linnea while Mel stepped out.”

Tyson looks stumped. “He should be home by now. We had plans to unwind before the game.” You make no attempt to stop him from entering, and he takes his shoes off without another word. Aimlessly trailing behind him, you let out a breath you didn’t know you were holding when he heads to the guest room. “I’m gonna take a nap, have Landy wake me up when he gets home.”

“Can do,” you sigh, but it falls on deaf ears. Tyson’s already got the door shut, and you imagine he’s climbing under the covers, blissfully unaffected by your presence. You can’t say the same. Knowing he’s less than fifty feet from you sends you spiraling. Flashbacks of pre-game cuddles grace the back of your eyelids, and you rub your temples furiously to get rid of the images. It doesn’t help. You want nothing more than to not be bothered by how much you miss seeing him. You miss the way his hands felt entangled with yours and how sweet his voice sounds in the morning. Being this hung up on a person so long after a relationship has ended can’t be healthy.

The baby monitor crackles, signaling the baby, and the only reason you haven’t fled, is once again awake. Linnea’s room is bright and cheerful; the perfect hideaway from Tyson. Sometime during your tenth reciting of Green Eggs and Ham Mel returns. She finds you upstairs and giddily sweeps up her child, missing her terribly even though she was only gone for a couple of hours.

“Did everything go okay?”

You nod. “She was a dream. The happiest baby I’ve ever seen. She might need to be changed soon though.”

Mel nods. “I saw Tyson’s car in the driveway, did he meet Gabe?”

“He’s actually asleep in the downstairs guest room,” you whisper, scared he’ll sense you’re talking about it, and by extension thinking about him, missing him.

“Oh. Shit.”

That’s the understatement of the year. “Yeah.” You quickly help put away the groceries before heading out, not wanting to disrupt the routine more so than you already had. Really though, you want to be as far away from the Landeskog’s as possible before Tyson wakes up. You’ll have to do a better job of avoiding him in the future, you decide on the way home. You’re heart can’t take seeing him this frequently – or at all.

♠♠♠♠

You would rather be anywhere than the Pepsi Center. It’s the first time you’ve been in the arena since breaking up with Tyson and you’re downright miserable. However, you promised your younger brother you’d take him to a game the next time he visited Denver with your parents and you aren’t about to break his heart. Ryan is borderline obsessed with the Avalanche and hockey in general. At eleven he’s showing significant promise and you know he works hard.

“Ry, slow down,” you huff, desperately trying to keep up with him. The kid is swaying through the throng of people at lightning speed, desperately trying to make it to your seats to catch warmup. Wanting to make the experience special for him, you purchased seats along the glass across from the Avs bench. Your brother halts, tapping his foot impatiently as you join him and match his stride.

Contrary to what Ryan thinks, your seats have not been stolen and warmup is just starting. His winter jacket is soon placed on the seat, revealing the too big jersey underneath. The number seventeen nearly sits at his elbow and the name-bar is askew because one side keeps slipping down, but your brother’s happy. He’s preoccupied with watching players do passing drills, hands pressed against the glass, and you allow yourself to look around. Virtually nothing has changed since the last time you were here. The banners are still the same, the energy electric. One small difference is your seating arrangement: the better halves’ box is no longer a luxury you have available to you. A quick glance in that direction confirms they’re enjoying themselves, laughing and no doubt in the midst of planning the next off-season wedding.

Ryan grips the hem of your sweater to get your attention. “Look Y/N,” he squeals, “Tys and J.T are coming over!” Sure enough, the two friends are making a beeline in your direction. Tyson waves and Ryan eagerly reciprocates. You’re reminded just how much he misses Tyson; they were the best of friends whenever they could get together. Another piece of your heart breaks in that moment, as you realize you aren’t the only hurting from the breakup.

“You’ve got him in the wrong jersey Y/N,” J.T smirks. “Think he’d look better with thirty-seven plastered all over.”

You roll your eyes. “I’ll remember that Compher. You got the spare change lying around to buy him one?” There’s no malice in your voice; you truly miss joking around with him.

Tyson throws a puck high enough to clear the plexiglass. “Ry-Guy, catch!” It lands unceremoniously at Ryan’s feet, but he beams as he picks it up. The two boys share a makeshift fist bump and quickly catch up with each other. It’s been over a year since they’ve seen each other at this point, and Ryan has so much he wants to talk about. J.T tells a joke that makes the younger boy laugh, and Tyson turns his attention to you.

“It’s nice to see you again,” he says, doing his best to convey his sincerity. The energy of the area and the adrenaline have Tyson shaking slightly, and he rocks back onto his blades.

You study his facial features as you inhale. He’s still incredibly handsome, just slightly more defined, like he’s growing into himself. “Likewise,” you exhale. You know you shouldn’t lie but you can’t help it; for Ryan’s sake you need to pretend that seeing Tyson doesn’t make you want to curl into a ball and cry. He smiles sadly, like he knows you’re putting on a show. He probably does – you’ve never been good at hiding your emotions from him. Has been able to see how much you hurt every time you interact?

Ryan recaptures Tyson’s attention for a few final moments before he has to return to the locker room. With a high-five and a promise to call soon he skates away, leaving your brother to gush about his idol. The game goes better than you could have ever imagined; the Avs gain a landslide victory and Tyson gets a hatrick. After each goal he points in your direction and Ryan goes berserk. You catch yourself smiling, proud of his accomplishment, before you realize you won’t be at the celebratory afterparty. That isn’t your life anymore.

The traffic out of the arena is terrible, and Ryan’s asleep in the backseat before you hit the interstate. In some sort of daze you think about what you’d be doing with Tyson right now if you were still together. Maybe you’d be getting ready to make an appearance at a club to celebrate the big game, but it’s more likely you’d be pressed together on the couch, watching a nature documentary to unwind. It’s moments like that you miss most; where you were both too comfortable and enamored with each other to care about your social obligations. A single tear escapes and flows down your cheek. One turns into ten, and soon you’re sobbing over lost love.

♠♠♠♠

Tyson Jost isn’t someone you could ever stop loving. He’s the human equivalent of the sun, and even now your life revolves around him. It’s centered on missing him, sure, but that’s a part of him nonetheless. You can only hope it gets easier to deal with.

#tyson jost imagine #tyson jost x reader #tyson jost fic #nhl imagine #nhl fic #hockey imagine #hockey fic #cwrites

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urbancripple · 4 years

Link

I’ve updated my gear page and added more of my recent recommendations. I also fixed the shitty image formatting so stuff isn’t cut off :D

Each purchase made through those links helps support my site. So many of your have done that recently and it’s been a great help with keeping things running around here. I deeply appreciate it.

This article contains one or more Amazon Affiliate Links. As an Amazon Associate, I earn from qualifying purchases.

Urban Cripple’s Wheelchair Gear and Accessories

If you want suggestions on what kind of gear you should get for your wheelchair, check out this list.

Wheelchair Tools

Every Day Carry (EDC)

In the Kitchen

Around the House

Bags and Carrying Cases

Food and Fuel

Wheelchair Tools

I don’t carry a ton of gear with me when I go out, but what I do have is super critical to staying safe and mobile while rolling through god‐knows‐what in the streets. Most of this stuff falls in the “Oh shit!” category. You won’t need it every day, but you’ll be glad you have it when you do.

Tekton Long Arm Ball End Hex Key Wrench Set

Most wheelchair components are held together with either with some kind of hex screw. If something goes wrong, you’re going to need a set of wrenches to fix it.

I like this particular set because it comes with both metric and standard wrenches and folds so it can lay flat in your bag or tool wrap.

Pedro’s Tire Levers

Don’t let their size fool you: these are great tire levers. What I love most about these things is the fact that they come in pairs and are designed to wrap around a spoke so you can keep one in place while using the other to remove the tire.

When not in use, they snap together and can easily be tossed in a bag or stashed under your chair.

PRO Bike CO2 Inflator

If you realize your tires are dangerously low after leaving the house or you pop a tube and need to reinflate the replacement, you’ll need a C02 inflator.

Make sure you always keep a couple of spare cartridges on you and remember to never store a fresh C02 cartridge in the inflator: it’ll just be flat by the time you need it.

Black And Decker ASI300 Air Station Inflator

For regular tire maintenance, I really love this air compressor. It’s powerful enough to fill a standard wheelchair tire but small enough to travel in a vehicle. It can even be powered by your car’s DC outlet.

Every Day Carry

This is the stuff I keep with me and use every day.

Foldable Phone Stand That Fits In Your Wallet

It’s a ridiculous piece of plastic and aluminum, but it fits in your wallet and actually works really well to hold your phone up. I use it when doing video calls with coworkers so I don’t have to move my laptop, open it up and plug in my wired headphones.

Harbinger Pro Non‐Wristwrap Weightlifting Gloves

By far, gloves are the most important piece of gear for your chair. City streets are super gross and full of hazards that can stain, cut, or bruise your hands. A good pair of gloves should offer you plenty of protection from hazards while allowing you to maintain your grip, dexterity, and the ability to use touch‐sensitive devices like a smartphone.

That’s why I love these weightlifting gloves from Harbinger. They have enough padding in the palms to protect from dirt, grime, and heat (gripping your tires while going down hill can burn your hands) while the fingerless design lets you keep your dexterity and use a smartphone.

Tactical Flashlight

I know we all usually use our phones when we need a flashlight, but I find a dedicated flashlight to be a lot more effective ( and a lot less expensive if you drop it.)

These flashlights are small, light, and crazy bright. They also come with various modes including strobe and S.O.S.

Contigo Extreme Vacuum Insulated Stainless Steel Travel Mug with Handle

The only way you can safely carry a hot beverage while pushing a wheelchair is by keeping it in an airtight container. I really like this mug because it’s insulated and has a clip. The clip is great because you can easily attach it to your bag or to the back of your chair (I use the backrest release bar). Because it seals so well, you don’t have to worry about it spilling.

Snap Lock Folding Pocket Knife

I like this knife because it’s small, sharp, and easy to carry. Just don’t accidentally leave it in your jeans for the TSA to find (true story).

AmazonBasics Lightning Cable

Fun fact: lightning cables are super cheap if you get them from anywhere except Apple.

Cocoon Grid‐IT Organizer

These things are great for taking all the small stuff that usually ends up rolling around in your bag and keeping it in one place.

Portable Charger Power Bank 22400mAh

Having your phone die is terrifying. This thing will charge your phone and tablet several times over. However, it does take a long time to charge the battery itself.

Slim Portable Charger Power Bank 10000mah

It won’t charge your device as fast or as many times, but it won’t take up nearly as much room in your bag as the other battery.

In the Kitchen

Cooking while everything that is boiling or on fire is at face‐level can be a bit daunting. Here’s some stuff that’ll make it safer and easier.

Meal Prep Containers: 3 Compartment with Lids, Food Containers

These meal prep containers are microwave/dishwasher safe and they stack. It’s a great way to prep meals and save yourself some time and energy.

Extra‐Large Silicone Freezing Tray with Lid

These trays are great for freezing stews and sauces and such. I do a lot of large batch cooking and these are waaay easier than trying to portion stuff out into ziplock bags. The lids make it easy to move it around one handed (what wheelchair user hasn’t gotten wet trying to refill an ice cube tray?)

Silicone Baking Mat

These things are a life saver in the kitchen. Basically, if you use them, you’ll never have to clean a baking sheet/pan ever again.

16 inch Kitchen Tongs

When sitting in a wheelchair and using the stove top, it can be really tough to reach both the temperature dials and anything sitting on the back burner. These super long tongs let you easily reach and turn the knobs on your stove and anything that might be sizzling away on your back burners.

Ove Glove

These things are machine washable and can withstand up to 540 degrees of temperature. They grip well and make it easy to get stuff in and out of the oven. In a pinch, they’ll even double as a makeshift pot holder.

OXO Steel Press & Pour Insulated Cocktail Shaker

If you’re looking for a cocktail shaker that doesn’t freeze your hands off, won’t burst open, and can be operated with one hand, you should get this one. I make a lot of cocktails at home and I really hate cocktail shakers. Your standard Boston style shaker has a tendency to break open on you if you don’t seal it right (and that means your chair gets covered in booze) and it’s a pain to open if you seal it too tightly. This cocktail shaker has a really straight‐forward design. The top is screw-on, it has a simple push button in the lid for pouring and sealing, and it can pour from any direction. I highly recommend it for folks who wanna mix drinks at home but don’t wanna risk wearing their beverage.

Around the House

This is the stuff I keep around specifically because it makes daily life easier for me when I’m at home.

Microfiber Cleaning Cloth

For folks trying to keep their place clean while avoiding using up too many cleaning wipes or paper towels, I’ve found that having a stack of cheap microfiber cloths on hand plus a mix of water and vinegar in a spray bottle really helps keep things sparkly while cutting down on waste.

Multi‐Position Heavy Duty Folding Hand Truck and Dolly

This dolly is great if you need to move something that’s too big or too heavy to carry on your lap. It can be configured in multiple ways and folds up easily for storage.

Retractable Dog Leash

Walking your dog with a standard leash can be tough if you’re in a wheelchair. I use a retractable dog leash with my dog so that I can easily adjust the amount of slack I need to keep her under control while not getting the leash tangled in my chair. In addition, the size of the handle lets me easily loop it through the buckle of my Grab‐It Pack, which means I can securely hold onto the dog while pushing my chair with both hands.

Bags and Carrying Cases

All of the various bags and slings I use to carry stuff when I’m out of the house.

13.3 Inch Sling Bag Riding Hiking Bag Single Shoulder Backpack

This bag is small and doesn’t have a ton of storage, but I wanted something that I could wear constantly and had just enough room to hold my backup charging cables and small tools so that I could go out without having to have as much physically strapped to me. If you need something with more storage, they have a bunch of different sizes that are meant to hold more stuff.

This isn’t the exact bag I use day‐to‐day but it is the correct style. I really like the sling style bags: they’re light enough to not restrict my movement and the single strap means it won’t shift around as I push my chair.

Food and Fuel

This is the stuff I carry with me in case I’m too busy to pack a proper meal.

ThinkThin High Protein Bars

It’s always a good idea to keep some kind of portable snack in your bag if you think you’re going to be out and about for an extended period of time. I like to keep a couple of these ThinkThin bars in my bag just in case I’m stuck between meal times. They don’t taste like death or cardboard and they’re not just a glorified candy bar.

#gear #disability #wheelchair #recommendations

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kevinszabojrplumbing · 1 year

Text

Air Conditioning for Garage Gym

Spending a few hours in a searing hot garage is one of those inconveniences you might have had to put up with as a homeowner.

But if you are thinking of making your garage double as your home gym, then you need to do something about the heat, no two ways about it.

Wait, isn’t working out all about sweating it out anyway? Well, there are the natural body heat spikes that come with exercising. But if you have to do it in a room that feels like you’re in the oven, then you can bet it’s going to be hell.

And hey, we need all the comfort we can get when exercising, it keeps the motivation up and that means more gains.

Besides, who doesn’t like a nice refreshing breeze no matter what you’re doing in your garage anyway?

So yeah, if you have an extremely hot garage that you want to use as a home gym, then here are a few ideas to turn the heat down.

How do I Cool My Garage Gym?

One question I often get from gym bros, clients, friends, and family is; how can I cool my garage without AC?

It might sound counterintuitive, but it makes sense – a lot of sense at that. You don’t have to splurge on a costly AC if you can get away with cooling your garage naturally and get it a few degrees cooler, right?

Turns out, there are a few tricks in the book. Let’s look at some of the most effective ones.

Clear the Clutter

All the stuff in your gym is probably the reason the temperatures in there are going through the roof.

I mean, seriously, there could be a hoard of stuff obstructing the flow of air around the garage space.

All you’ve got to do is get rid of what you can and keep the space organized and see how that works out. Also, consider parking your vehicle in the driveway to create more room for cool air.

Keeping the Door Open

With all the clutter out of the way, the next easy way around this is to keep the door wide open.

Well yeah, I know guys, I know. It’s a no-brainer really, but hey, there’s every chance you forget to open your garage door or windows once in a while when you’re in there.

If you don’t like to keep your garage door open for whatever reason – say safety or privacy, you can instead consider working out in the early morning or late evening hours when temperatures are low.

Go Green

Know that feeling you get when you lay under a shady tree during the heat of the day? Your garage could benefit from a similar effect with a nice shade from a nearby tree. You won’t cool your garage gym overnight with this one, but it’s worth a shot.

Such trees as tulip poplar, tulip, birch, or dawn redwood do grow quite fast and tend to have remarkable shade.

I would recommend getting one of these, two if you can, depending on how strategic you can have them around without any risk of structural damage to your property from the roots – keep that in mind, too.

Do a Paint Job

Dull paint on your garage door (or even the interior) could be another reason the heat is so intense. Thing is, the paint color has a role to play in either reflecting or absorbing light – and this effect could easily cause fluctuations in temperatures inside your garage.

If you have dull color paint on either the door or inside your gym, doing a repaint with a bright one could help lower the temperatures a bit – but you are likely to experience the difference.

Upgrade the Insulation

Here’s another long-term fix for y’all folks. And the thing I love about this one is that you will start realizing the change virtually overnight. I’m talking about garage insulation.

The cool thing about good insulation is that it reduces the level of heat transfer in and out of your garage gym. That is to say not only will it help keep the interior cool during the warmer summer days, but it will also avoid a frigid nightmare during winter by keeping the heat in when it’s freezing outside.

Talk about an all-around temperature regulation at one go.

Use Fans

If all of these don’t seem to get the temperatures down enough, then you can consider getting powerful fans to keep that breeze flowing. This could be in the form of movable ones, or a ceiling fan depending on how big the room is.

Lucky for you, fans aren’t all that expensive, at least not as costly as an AC. And it gets even better, since you can use your household fan in the garage when working out, and bring it back in the house once you’re done.

What’s cool about ceiling fans is their energy efficiency and the fact that they keep the room cooler without getting in the way of your exercise or taking up valuable real estate.

Speaking of which, if space is at a premium for you, this guy at fitlifefanatics.com does have very handy tips, tricks, and space-saving workout gear for garages, basements, and even apartment gym setups.

With that out of the way, let’s take a look at the use of air conditioning units and whether getting one for your garage gym is a good idea.

Can You Put an Air Conditioner in a Garage?

The short answer is yes. The long answer, however, is that there are considerations you need to keep in mind.

Choosing Between Commercial and Home AC

The first hurdle you will likely have to clear is deciding whether to go with a small unit meant for home use or a commercial-size one.

Albeit costing more, commercial AC units make for a great option in this case. The good thing about these units is their rugged, heavy-duty construction and sturdy materials they are made of.

Although it might cost you a bit more upfront, you will love the high output that such a robust unit can offer. However, this depends on how high the temperatures get in your area.

Pick the Right Unit Size for Your Garage Gym

Although I have already mentioned that a commercial-size unit is a better option, the first step is figuring out the square footage of your garage gym.

If you have a tiny room, you might not need such a robust unit unless you are looking for durability.

Figure out the BTU rating you will need for the size of your room, which you can do easily with the use of a cooling capacity calculator.

The takeaway here is that the bigger and more robust the unit, the faster it will cool your gym.

Pick the Ideal Location for Ventilation

Make no mistake, when the AC unit is running, the hot air has to go somewhere, and so it needs to be vented out, lest it goes in circles inside the unit and comes right back inside your garage.

The best way to get the hot air out is through a window or the garage door. If your garage doesn’t have a window and there is no way you can use the door as an outlet, then you might have no option but to drill a vent in the wall.

Whatever you do, make sure the hot air has a way out.

Is it Worth Putting AC in the Garage?

Figuring out whether getting an AC for your garage gym is worth it or not boils down to several factors. After all, you are investing time, money, and effort in such a project, so yeah, you need to weigh everything beforehand.

For that, a simple yet effective checklist comes to the rescue.

How many hours do you exercise in your garage (or spend in there) each day?

How high do the temperatures get in your area?

How long does the warm weather last where you live?

With this, you should be able to figure out whether an AC unit is worth it or not.

Portable Air Conditioner

For those who want to have an AC running during a workout session, but do not want to deal with the hassle of installing a permanent unit in the garage, a portable unit is your best bet.

And just like the portable fans we’ve discussed above, a portable AC is cool in that you can use it both in the gym as well as inside the house – provided it’s easy to move around.

If this sounds like a more feasible option for you, here are several tips to help you pick the right one and position it perfectly for the best effect.

Getting the Right Unit Size

Just like with the permanent AC units, portable ones also come in different sizes, shapes, and British Thermal Units (BTU) ratings. Again, higher BTUs mean more cooling power and more suitability for larger rooms.

Most units between 8,000 BTUs (ideal for 200 sq. ft) and 14,000 BTUs (ideal for 500 sq. ft) should suffice for most garage gyms. It’s all down to the square footage you’re working with.

Maintenance is Key

Another aspect to keep an eye on before picking any particular unit in this category is the maintenance it might need. Lucky for you, portable ACs do not need any complicated maintenance, mostly all you have to deal with is the draining of any collected moisture, also known as condensate.

There are several ways to go about this one;

You can remove the unit’s pan manually and empty it.

The use of an external pump to get the water out of the unit also works

Or, you could attach a hose and use gravity to drain the condensate

Finding that Sweet Spot

Once you have your portable AC, you need to find the perfect spot to place it for the best performance. And yes, like the permanent units, these too do produce hot air that you will need to vent out of the room.

Some portable ACs come with a window kit included – which is handy in helping channel the air out. But this means you will need to place and plug the unit near a window.

They are Not Dead Silent

While window AC units are quiet as they extend outwards, a portable AC means having the entire unit inside the room. This means it will create a certain amount of noise – any unit that generates airflow does. The difference here is how loud any given model or brand might get.

It’s not like you’re going to bother as much about a noise unit when working out unless you’re doing meditation during yoga or something.

But if you do, then a look at the decibel levels produced by different units should give you an idea of which one is quieter at the highest settings.

Energy Efficiency

Another thing you don’t want to miss when picking the right portable AC unit for your garage gym is energy efficiency for those who are conscious about the environment or want to keep energy bills down.

To figure this out, take a quick look at the Energy Efficiency Ratio, which tells you the number of BTUs used for each watt.

In essence, the higher the EER the more energy efficient the unit is, so I would recommend going for those.

Can AC be used in Gym? Should You Use One?

You already know an AC can be used in your garage gym, and the same holds for any other gym setup too.

The question is, should you use one? Before you splurge on one of these fancy units, let’s look at whether cooling down your garage when working out is a good idea.

Turns out, there's a catch; here are some downsides to keep in mind.

Warming up Gets Harder

Right off the bat, this sounds counter-intuitive, and it is. Most people prefer to warm up before starting their workout session. It gets harder to warm up with an ac cooling you down, which means the chance to end up using more energy for this alone and potentially gassing out before the main workout.

You Risk Catching Cold

When taking breaks in between your workout, or after you are done with the day’s session, an air-conditioned gym could mean your body cools down more rapidly than it should.

This could mean risking catching a cold due to the fast temperature fluctuation. Also, you might have to warm up regularly during your workout to maintain optimal blood flow and keep your muscles firing on all cylinders.

There’s Also the Risk of Not Losing Toxins

One great benefit that you get from working out is detoxification through sweating. That means the more you sweat, the more toxins you’re flushing out of your body.

In an air-conditioned room, the level of sweating is reduced, both during and after a workout, thus leading to less toxin removal from your system.

Final Thoughts

Whichever way you look at it, working out with or without air conditioning has its benefits and downsides. It could get way too hot without proper air conditioning and make your workout almost unbearable, and then there are the gripes we’ve discussed above.

The most important thing is to strike the perfect balance depending on the climate in your area and get the ideal air conditioning for the best experience during your workout or when doing anything else in the garage. It’s all about making your time in the garage comfortable and fruitful.

Resources;

https://www.reddit.com/r/Fitness/comments/4j1xiz/how_does_temperature_affect_your_workout/

https://www.thisoldhouse.com/garages/23279222/cooling-a-garage

https://www.sylvane.com/tips-buying-portable-air-conditioner.html

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zinzinina · 3 years

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Hi there! Congrats on 500 followers!! If possible, I’d love to submit something for your celebration! I don’t have a gender preference, but I’d like it if you could avoid creeps like palpatine, dooku, snoke, etc lmao! again, thank you and congrats!!!!

OK SO If I were an animal, I’d probably be an elephant (v emotional and compassionate animals so, mood)! My ideal night out would be a night at my fave bar with my best friends! a night in would be a pint of ben & jerry’s and a youtube spiral for one of my niche favorite topics! In a partner I really look for open and honest communication, a strong sense of self, and a sense of humor!! Honestly my playlists for getting ready for a date contain a lot of calming 1960s folk music like Peter, Paul, & Mary! My idea of hell, as cliche as it is, would be repeating the same task or awful day over and over again for eternity. again, thank you!! 💖

Hello! Great news, we’ve had a successful match!

Don't be intimidated by her royal background; your date is more than happy to kick back and take it easy with you. She’s a fiercely excellent communicator, and isn’t shy about telling you how she feels. She knows who she is, and what she wants — you’ll never have to worry about mixed signals with her. Leia is deeply compassionate and will always support and uplift you, even when managing her own emotions. This is a woman who comforted some kid who was an absolute stranger to her over the death of his mentor only shortly after losing her entire planet. She is a Rock.

Your date is going to be very laid back and romantic, just like her. I’m sending you off to Sicemon just in time for the annual wildflower bloom! It’s absolutely beautiful here: low grassy plains as far as the eye can see, and during this one spectacular season the entire planet explodes into colour. The local people have a festival around the blooms, and you’ll be greeted with flower circles when you arrive before heading out into the brightness of the day. You’ll find a picnic rug in your basket; I haven’t given you any food because I strongly recommend you try as much as you can from the local stalls. There’s blossom-honey, rose icecream, fresh baked herb-bread… just for the beginning. Little tip, Leia loves to dance, so make sure you take her by the hand out into the centre of the festival if you want to earn extra points.

Thank you for using Sam’s Star Wars Matchmaking Service™️! Antihistamines not included. May the Spires Keep You! x

#sam's star wars matchmaking service #rescuethewretched #zinzinina

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serenasoutherlyns · 3 years

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Full of Surprises ch. 1-3

casey/alex, past alex/olivia. semi-au & fuzzy timeline, set post season 9. cross-posted from ao3 so the first three chapters are coming at ya all at once. TW for series-typical violence, SA, and discussions of mental illness. less graphic than the show. Fluff, romance, angst! First three chapters are totally SFW.

And yet, as she scanned the place, she caught someone she recognized. Sitting at the bar, bent over a notebook, was Casey Novak; her deep red hair tied back in a casual ponytail, an empty highball glass in front of her, chewing on the end of a click pen.

1 .

This wasn’t where Alex would usually find herself. Or at least, it didn’t used to be. Maybe it was now.

Emily had spent her evenings sat at a booth in the back of the local pub, watching and sketching. The books she’d filled, she kept them safely tucked in a box in the back of her closet, initialed “EC.” Alex couldn’t find it in her to draw much anymore.

Anne was alone more than not, spent long evenings reading philosophy, went running early mornings, yoga classes, taught herself guitar, filled hours on hours with ideas and exhaustion. Alex didn’t spend much time poring over The Republic these days, her guitar was long covered in dust.

In law school, her friends had a favorite table in the window of a little cafe, they would go from morning coffee to afternoon study to sharing bottles of red wine, coming and going as they pleased, debating with hopeful glimmers in their bright eyes. Late into the night, arm wrapped around Sylvia’s waist, listening to her classmates carry on, she’d watch the candles burn down. Sylvia had called her Lexi, whispered in her ear on night walks in the cold Cambridge air to their little apartment, gentle hands soothing her most anxious times. Alex hadn’t felt like that in years.

College weekends were spent at punk shows in basements, though she knows now nobody would believe it, young Alex Cabot (the nickname had been coined in those years, sharper edged than the elaborate Alexandra) knew how to have some fun, at least back then. She’d dyed her hair black and worn studs on her collar, had a reputation for being a player, and it seemed like the back of her right hand was constantly stained with marker residue. Sticky floors and lipgloss on her neck, so many firsts all at once.

Her evenings during her years in the DA’s office were usually full of work, except the odd night when she’d meet the detectives for a drink at their haunt or head out with the other ADAs to some upscale cocktail bar. Two different crowds with two different mentalities, the detectives were dedicated to a fault, while the prosecutors were insufferably full of themselves. The detectives would tire her out by 11:30, but she’d find an excuse to leave the ADA excursions before 9. Far more special were the many evenings spent in Olivia’s apartment drinking two beers each and filling the quiet air with soft laughter and conversation.

But a little library themed speakeasy? Not her typical place. Well. No time like the present to change one’s habits. She’d been recommended it by an old law school friend a couple weeks ago, bumped into him on a whim in a coffee shop, was surprised she wasn’t dead, had been there last night, said it was right up her alley. Its illicit vibe wasn’t exactly to ADA Cabot’s tastes, no. But it scratched something in Alex, that hadn’t been satisfied since those basement nights and cozy cafe afternoons. From the place’s shelves she’d pulled a book of Pre-Raphaelite poetry and sat in a comfy chair with a scotch and a San Pelligrino, pleased, at least, to be out of the apartment for the evening.

She didn’t need the money, but she’d been copyediting textbooks freelance, filling up her time with grammar and word choice. She’d been reading a lot of fiction. She adopted two extremely fluffy cats. It was a pleasant, if mundane, life. It turned out, Alex had realized, that there were plenty of eager and capable young attorneys who could do her former job as well as she ever had. She felt, finally, like she deserved a bit of a rest. Needed one, really. Someone would do the prosecuting. The thought of stepping back in the courtroom, looking at the bench, examining witnesses, made her feel sick to her stomach, though she had once loved that life. It wasn’t her anymore— maybe it never really had been. She decided this was her kind of place after all. This iteration of Alexandra Cabot would drink bubbly water in secluded speakeasies while reading poetry.

Alex didn’t expect to see anybody she knew, not somewhere you needed a password to get into, where the music was indie folk and old jazz from a vintage record player, the drinks had names like the “Lady Brett” and the “Daisy Buchanan,” and most of the patrons were dressed in flannel with their noses buried in old books. And yet, as she scanned the place, she caught someone she recognized. Sitting at the bar, bent over a notebook, was Casey Novak; her deep red hair tied back in a casual ponytail, a half-empty highball glass in front of her, chewing on the end of a click pen.

This was surprising. Alex, though she hadn’t ever known Casey well, before her first brief return to life as Alex Cabot, only as one of the white collar ADAs (they ran in a bit of a pack, didn’t shy away from imitating the lifestyles of those they prosecuted). After knowing her as a prosecutor, Alex would expect to see Casey in a sports bar watching a game, or in some chrome-gilded bar with high ceilings drinking designer cocktails and cheering on a verbal showdown between her colleagues. Or in the center of a showdown like that. Not alone, writing in a moleskine, wearing a red flannel over a simple black dress. Casey was striking, Alex realized, before she realized she’d been looking a little longer than was considered normal. She hoped she didn’t seem like a creep watching from afar. She considered getting up, saying hello, but felt that Casey may not even remember her, may not want to be disturbed as she wrote, may not even recognize her anymore. She’d changed her appearance when she’d gone back to being Alex Cabot, cut her hair in a short bob, dyed it dark brown, wore thick rimmed glasses and simple clothing, too painful to be the formal blonde she used to be. Barely the same woman who’s once-murderer Casey had put behind bars those years ago.

Alex didn’t have to consider talking to Casey, however, because almost as soon as she returned to her book, she heard the sound of rubber soled sneakers against the old hardwood floors and a voice beside her.

“Hey stranger,” she said.

“Hi Casey,” Alex said as she slid her bookmark into place and looked up at the familiar face with a smile. “Care to join me?”

2 .

“I almost didn’t recognize you,” Casey said as she sat down. “I’m allowed to, uh, talk to you right? Though I guess if I wasn’t you wouldn’t acknowledge me, which would be fine, by the way.” There was the Casey Alex remembered, her words getting ahead of her.

“It’s fine, I’m me again,” Alex said calmly, “It’s really good to see you, though I wouldn’t have imagined you to be the writing type, or the underground-library-bar type” Alex gestured to the leather notebook in Casey’s left hand.

“I’m full of surprises, Alexandra Cabot.” Casey said in a tone that suggested she was sarcastic, yet convinced Alex she was telling the truth. Alex sipped her water.

“What were you working on?” She asked, not wanting to pry, but very eager to catch up, to know why she was alone in a place like this.

“Oh, nothing, nothing interesting. Just some little bits and pieces.” Casey replied.

“Not argument notes on a Saturday night, I hope?” Alex asked, though she knew that she would’ve done the same thing back when she was in the DA’s office. Casey looked pale, uncomfortable for a moment. “I’m sorry,” Alex said, trying to soothe any pain she may have caused, though she couldn’t fathom why. “I don’t mean to bring up work when you’re trying to relax.” At this, Casey just looked confused.

“Alex, have you not heard?” Casey said, searching for signs of recognition in the woman’s eyes, but finding only further confusion continuing, her voice low, “I was censured a few months ago. I can’t practice law for at least three years.” Alex’s eyes opened wide and she set her glass down on the table between them. “I’m surprised the rumor hasn’t reached your circles yet, though I admit I’m glad I get to be the one to tell someone for a change.” Alex noticed Casey cross her arms together over her chest, closing herself up, making herself seem smaller.

It was quiet for a while, the sounds of Ella Fitzgerald on the speakers, quiet conversations, and pages turning filling it. “I’m sorry, no, I hadn’t heard. That’s too bad. Do you want to talk about it?” Casey grinned at the suggestion, oddly intimate for the two women who, while they hardly knew each other, had shared some of the most intense moments either of them had experienced in a courtroom.

“I think I’ve gone over it enough in my head, but uh, thank you.” Casey said, her voice wobbling on the thanks, “You know, you’re the first person so far to actually ask me that?”

“I’m sorry.” Was Alex’s reply. Surely Casey had people who were interested in her feelings?

“The circumstances were,” Casey trailed off as she looked for the right wording, “I was at fault, for sure. But I was just trying to do the right thing, and I made a mistake.”

“Nothing shocking, I hope?” Asked Alex, still trying to ascertain the nature of the censure, wondering about what the woman sitting across from her could’ve done.

“I violated due process, technically.” Casey replied, attempting to gauge Alex’s reaction, but seeing that it continued to be contemplative rather than condemning, continued, “I shouldn’t’ve, but I think all of us have done worse in our time. But I was not in Donnelly’s good graces, so…” instead of ending her sentence, Casey sipped the last of her drink and looked up at Alex nervously, hoping the woman wouldn’t judge her too harshly.

“Oh man, Casey. That’s really tough. I’m sorry.” Casey searched for any sign of disapprobation in Alex’s tone, but finding only genuine concern, relaxed.

“So I’ve been doing other stuff for a little while. Using my undergrad,” she said, truly sarcastic this time. “What about you Cabot? What’s keeping you from your old haunt? And what’s with the brunette look?”

Alex wanted to answer, but wasn’t going to let Casey get away completely with deflecting. “You didn’t answer my question, Novak. What’s in the notebook?”

Casey laughed. “You really are relentless.” Alex just raised an eyebrow smugly while sipping her drink, as if to say, go on. “It’s a poetry journal. I’ve kept one since college.”

This admission broke the unflappable Alex Cabot’s reserve and she couldn’t keep herself from a few giggles. “I apologize,” she said, “for laughing at you. Just, the idea of Casey Novak the poet would not have occurred to me.”

“Like I said,” Casey started, “I’m full of surprises. And nobody has laughed at me in a long time,” she continued, beginning to laugh herself. “Believe it or not, I have an English degree.”

“Ok, ok, stop. I’m not sure I can take many more shocks tonight,” teased Alex.

“And you, didn’t answer my question. What’s with the brunette? You look beautiful,” Casey said before realizing what she was saying, shutting herself up before she said anything embarrassing.

“I needed a change,” Alex said, “Something to distance myself from my old selves. I never dyed my hair before, or switched up my look at all really. Just, a change.”

“I get that.” Casey said, and Alex felt like she really did get it, somehow more than anybody else had to this point. She’d seen a few old colleagues and friends, and they all had looked at her with this mixture of fear and pity that made her wish she was invisible. But Casey seemed to say something deeper in just three words.

They talked together late into the night, about books and drinks (Casey had been a bartender in college, her knowledge on pairings was unparalleled) and everything but law. It was close to 2:00 am when Casey started to yawn.

“I’m really glad I ran into you, Alex,” she said as they left the bar, her voice scratchy from talking quietly, a subtle accent that Alex couldn’t quite place showing through under the influence of sleepiness and her light buzz. It was adorable, Alex found herself thinking.

“Me too, Casey,” Alex replied, and before she could turn to start walking towards her apartment, only a block or so away, she was met with a hug. It was brief, but Alex took in the scent of Casey’s coconut shampoo, sweet and pleasing.

“I wouldn’t have expected you to be much of a hugger either,” Alex said as she pulled away, brushing her hands on Casey’s elbows.

“I guess you have a lot to figure out,” she said, playfully, as Alex handed her into a cab.

As Alex walked up the stairs to her apartment (she could afford a bigger place, but this one, this one felt right), Alex replayed the evening and regretted not asking for Casey’s phone number before she left. When she pulled her keys out of her pocket to unlock the door, she found a piece of paper, with a number and a note:

text me, so I can learn some of your surprises.

3 .

Alex was awake.

The same old dreams kept her restless. It had been a bad night, she’d slept less than 3 hours before she woke, startled, as the sun just began to rise, 5 am on a Saturday in September.

Foggily, she attempted to reconstruct the details of her pieced together dreams, her therapist, Julia, had convinced her to keep a journal. She said the nightmares of being shot, of nobody recognizing her, those made perfect sense, classic PTSD symptoms. With what happened to her it would’ve been stranger to not suffer it. But these hadn’t been those dreams.

Clare Cartwright, age 15 stood in line at the coffee shop. Her face was pink with tears but nobody saw anything out of the ordinary except for Alex, watching her from a table. Clare’s cheeks were wet and covered in running mascara but the barista didn’t bat an eye as she ordered an iced chai and sat down alone with her laptop. Tears turned to sobs turned to screams, thrashing, but she just kept typing, sipping her tea, nobody did a damn thing. Alex tried to rise from her seat, go to the girl, hold her and scratch her back while she cried, but the heavy weight of her own body kept her seated, powerless to do anything. She tried to yell across the room, tell her that it was going to be ok, she was going to put whoever hurt her behind bars, protect her from them forever. But when she opened her mouth all breath was sucked out of her lungs, she collapsed. Clare’s cries echoed ceaselessly.

Trevor Hamilton, a 20 something pro, had been turning tricks all night but one guy had taken it a little too far. He was sure his neck, hips would be covered in nasty bruises the next day. Oh well. Nobody believed a pro who cried rape. He stuffed his cash in his briefs and made his way towards the van he slept in with three other guys but before he could get there, he fell, body bloody. Nobody heard a sound but Trevor must have been shot. His blood was cold as it poured out of him onto the sidewalk but he stood up. He wasn’t dead. In the morgue, Melinda Warner ruled the cause of death a fatal gunshot wound to his back, probably a stray bullet, but he’d had sex the night he died, maybe an angry John. Alex told everyone that he wasn’t dead. Trevor whispered in her ear, asked her how could she let them say he was dead, how could she let them get away with saying such a thing like that, how could she let them call what had happened to him sex. Alex repeated herself over and over but all she got in return from the detectives were sympathetic looks of confusion as they sent her home for the day. She must’ve been too tired, Alex heard Olivia tell Elliot, maybe her mind was acting up again, sleep deprivation can kickstart psychosis. Someone would check in on her that night, make sure she wasn’t relapsing. Alex knew she wasn’t hallucinating, because Trevor had spoken to her in the clearest voice she’d heard in months. Alex wept for Trevor the whole way home and then some but nobody seemed to notice.

Annabelle Lamm wore a fuzzy pink nightgown when her grandmother brought her into the precinct one snowy night. Olivia called Alex to come to the precinct, they needed a warrant for the apartment, they found fluids in the girl’s hair of all places, grandma handed them an envelope full of pictures of Annie that nobody in the family admitted to taking. It was a no brainer warrant, Alex didn’t even mind waking up a judge for it if it meant getting whoever had been hurting this little girl as soon as possible. When Alex arrived to the building, Olivia wasn’t there and all the lights were off. Alex clicked on a lamp, wondered if Liv had found another ADA and rushed off without telling her anything. But the room was unfamiliar, empty, concrete. In the center of the room standing perfectly still was a 5 year old girl in a pink fuzzy nightgown. Alex ran to her but couldn’t get any closer. The little girl had a hollow expression and didn’t move an inch. Alex kept running and running but her feet stayed in the same spot, powerless.

Yeah. Powerless. As she awoke she felt like she was still running, head still spinning, still heard screams.

She wrote it all down in her journal. Julia had said that it was unusual for people whose jobs involved consistently levels of high stress and disturbance to have the severity of symptoms she had; that there was usually a tolerance that was built up to being horrified. Alex had either never had that tolerance or it had been washed away during the years she’d spent in WITSEC because her very brief return to the practice of law had nearly broken her.

“Sleep deprivation can kickstart psychosis,” Olivia had told her once when they first worked together, ostensibly referring to a case of statutory rape where the perp didn’t recall a single piece of the event; but Alex knew the comment was pointed at her, not the perp. Olivia could tell that Alex’s patience was growing thin, her mind unfocused; she must’ve deduced that Alex wasn’t sleeping much. But Alex already knew the warning signs.

Alexandra Cabot, age 16, sat shaking in a hospital room. It was almost finals week, she’d pulled a few all nighters, it was nothing serious, she’d told her school counselor a week prior when her friends had noticed her speech patterns growing muddled. She stayed up another 24 hours and the last thing she remembered was her roommates grabbing her wrists and pulling her inside off the balcony. After that, the school had installed locks on all the windows. Alexandra was freezing in her hospital gown, brain numbed out from the IV antipsychotics she was attached to. A few days in the hospital to take care of her injuries (she was informed that she had thrown herself against the wall while school officials took her to the ER), then a summer of residential treatment, hopefully she would be able to return to boarding school in the fall. Her father looked at her with a shattered expression, her mother treated her with cold indifference, her friends didn’t talk to her. Major depression with psychotic features.

Alex knew the consequences of not sleeping enough. She considered taking her cup of mint tea and heading back to bed, cuddling up to her cats, reading a book maybe, just trying to screw her head on right. Her body fought her though, nervous energy ran through her veins, so she elected to have a walk instead. Besides, it had been years since she’d had any serious episode. Anxiety, sure, and the occasional month or so of depression, a few close calls, but regular therapy and medication kept her more or less in the clear since college. Her family, her therapists, had suggested she go into a different kind of law, something stimulating but less distressing like, intellectual property, but she had refused, felt called to prosecuting. But her experience was what made her a great prosecutor, and it was why she had been so adamant about the proper handling of cases involving those suffering from mental illness, especially victims, but perps as well. She knew how it felt, more than she admitted to almost anybody, but she also knew there were paths through it.

The same old nightmares, but Alex was a different person. The old Alex would’ve thrown herself even harder into work than usual, won her cases even more viciously, assuaged her feelings of powerlessness by asserting control. This Alex knew that complete control was unattainable.

The September air was cold this early in the morning, but bracing. The contrast between her thermos full of hot tea pleased her, she pretended she was a dragon as she breathed steam. She smiled to herself at the thought and at the bright orange sun rising through the treetops in the park by her apartment. This had been the right choice, sunrises were her favorite magic. Content covered her like a well fitting dress, shaking off the nerves slowly. The most dedicated joggers and newsstand operators were the only other people out this early, the quietest time in the city. Alex’s phone buzzed.

Casey: Nice coat, Cabot.

Alex looked up from her phone, confused. What? Maybe it was delivered late. She’d seen Casey two days ago for coffee— they’d developed a friendship. Texts, coffee, nothing too deep; but then it had only been a couple weeks since they’d run into each other at the library bar. Alex liked Casey. She was funny and a good listener, and she always had something to say. She didn’t walk on eggshells around Alex either, making Casey unique among her friends. She’d tried to meet up with Liv right when she’d gotten back to the city the second time, but the way she looked at her cut way too deep, like she was a hero, like she was a victim. Both of those she may well be, but she needed to be treated as a friend. Casey did that for her, down to playfully teasing her over her eccentric habits. Another text:

Casey: Turn around, Clueless.

Not many people had ever called Alexandra Cabot clueless. Alex turned around, and Casey waved at her excitedly from the jogging path and without waiting for Alex’s reaction began to run up to where she was sitting. Alex was surprised to see her, happily so. She knew Casey was athletic, but didn’t take her to be the 5:30 running type. She wore tight leggings and a running jacket, and the biggest smile Alex had seen from her. She looked beautiful in the soft early light, Alex thought, then immediately blushed at that thought.

She’d never been one to shy away from her sexuality, especially when she realized the destructive role repression had played in her life before she came out. Alex had been out since college, but she tried very hard not to crush on straight women. She knew she couldn’t control who she was attracted to, but it always made her feel a bit dejected, so. Nip that in the bud.

Alex didn’t have much time to consider the ethics of her thoughts, because Casey was right in front of her, grabbing her hands.

“It’s so good to see you! A second surprise encounter, must be fate, Cabot,” Casey said in a quiet voice, a wink in her words.

“Something like that,” Alex replied, “What are you doing out so early?”

“I could ask the same of you; I’m just finishing up my run. You are wearing a fancy coat and looking deep in thought, in fact, you are being far more suspicious than I am, look at how many people are out here jogging, I mean,”

“Oh my god,” Alex cut her off with an eye roll, “Ok, stop cross-examining me.”

Casey gave Alex a genuine laugh, “Old habits die hard.” She paused for a second. “You look pale, did you sleep?”

“Thanks, Casey.” Alex gave her a playful glare. “If three nightmares in three hours counts, then yes, I slept.”

“Oh you poor thing. I’d hug you but,” She gestured to her sweaty figure. “You wanna get breakfast? I’ll pop back to my apartment, shower, and meet you at yours in say, half an hour?”

Alex started slightly at the familiarity, but responded, “Yeah, sure, sounds fun. Uh, here I’ll text you my address.”

Did Casey blush? Alex couldn’t be sure due to her post-run glow and the chill in the air. “Sorry if that’s too familiar, I know we usually plan these things out, and I guess I just assumed you didn’t have plans, it’s totally fine if you don’t want to, you know, runner’s high and all,” but Alex cut her off again with a raise of her eyebrows.

“Are you retracting the offer, Novak?” Alex couldn’t resist the urge to tease the woman in front of her. “Because if I recall correctly, I said yes.”

Casey grew more flustered, replied with a quick, “Nope, still happening, see you in half an hour,” and took off running, leaving Alex behind as she laughed in disbelief.

#law and order svu #calex #cabenson #alex cabot #casey novak #olivia benson #svu #svu imagines #alex cabot x casey novak #alex cabot x olivia benson #svu fanfiction #fanfiction #author #casey novak poetry nerd

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honeymoonjin · 4 years

Text

ᴘᴀɪʀɪɴɢ: jin x reader ft. elf!jk || ᴡᴏʀᴅ ᴄᴏᴜɴᴛ: est. 13k

ɢᴇɴʀᴇ: thriller, angst, fantasy || ʀᴇʟᴇᴀsᴇ: 14th December

sᴜᴍᴍᴀʀʏ: you and your husband jin try to enjoy a nice holiday in the North Pole, but there’s something not quite right with the elves.

ᴡᴀʀɴɪɴɢs: cursing, some aggressive characters, though no gore or explicit violence, this one’s kinda a dark setting though i promise the characters are still honeymoonjinᵀᴹ soft

“I don’t like this.”

You glance up from the half-eaten butterscotch pudding, finishing your caramel mouthful. “What do you mean?”

Jin glances up from the picnic table the two of you are eating at, eyeing the fellow tourists and smattering of elves wandering around the campground. The two of you had gone on a surprisingly brief tour of the North Pole's capital, Middlenog, kept in a tour bus for a ride down the main street, only stopping at a small museum and now, a campground for lunch. Oddly, your tour bus were the only guests at the site, and the booth for reception had been shut since you parked up, with no sign of opening.

“Maybe it’s off-season,” you dismiss, shoveling another spoonful of the delicious - and complimentary! - dessert in your mouth.

Jin glances back at you, brows furrowed. “It’s December,” he exclaims, “in terms of Christmas, it’s the very definition of on-season. Where are the rest of the tourists? Where are the elves taking holidays with their families and friends? I just don’t get it.”

You stare at your now-empty bowl mournfully, before pushing it to the side and looking back up at your husband. “I mean, if Christmas is busy, they probably take their vacations in the middle of the year, right? Anyway, it’s not a big- Seokjin!”

You cringe violently as the dark-haired man waves over your tour guide, a stout redhead with a friendly face and clever eyes, greeting the elf with an over-enthusiastic handshake.

“Franklyn,” he cheers jovially, though his eyes glitter in an entirely different manner, “I wanted to ask you a quick question. How do we go about booking a cabin here, perhaps for a week or so?”

The elf’s eyebrows lift slightly, and you watch as he leans his body backwards, before his arm goes taut and holds him back in place. You watch him swallow hard as he realises Seokjin isn’t letting go of his hand. “Uh, you can ask at reception, sir.”

Your husband doesn’t blink. “Reception’s closed.”

A tense smile breaks out on Franklyn’s face. “This place isn’t so well run, huh? You’d be better off vacationing in one of our luxury holiday resorts in East Cane! That’s the place we’re headed to next, it’s about an hour out of the city but it’s got reindeer riding and the Auro-”

“We prefer the city life,” Jin interrupts smoothly, finally dropping Franklyn’s hand with a flourish, wiping his palm on his jeans with a never-faltering grin. “How about you recommend us a place to stay inside Middlenog.”

“But Middlenog isn’t for-” Franklyn coughs suddenly, a tinny noise that sounds entirely artificial. “Hey, how about I fetch you folks some more dessert? Calories don’t count on a holiday, you know!”

You hum, eyeing up the buffet table they had set up, a few picnic tables pushed together and laden with food. “Actually, I wanted to try the mudca-”

“We noticed you haven’t eaten yet, sir.” You’re taken aback when it’s the elf this time, not your husband that cuts in. Franklyn has his head tilted just enough that his small, felted hat doesn’t tip off, and his smile is plastic.

Jin goes silent for a moment, jaw flexing slightly, in the way that you noticed it did whenever he was concentrating extremely hard on something. “You noticed me, did you?”

Franklyn doesn’t explain further. “The food is completely free, and if the clients don’t finish it, we have to throw it out. All those meats, breads, cakes, puddings; they were all put there for you to enjoy as a part of the tour. So go on; be naughty.” Franklyn winks at the both of you like it's an inside joke shared between friends.

You begin to feel uneasy, but Seokjin just holds his gaze. “I think I will,” he says slowly.

“Good!” Franklyn’s clear relief is shattered by the ringing of a stick of jingle bells, the driver elf standing outside the bus, waving the couples and families back inside. The redhead deflates a little, before puffing himself up and smiling down at the both of you. “Well; why don’t you take something to go? We aren’t meant to have food or drink on the bus, but I won’t tell if you don’t!”

You curl your arms inwards as they rest on the table, slipping them off the edge to hug yourself. Something about this interaction struck you as extremely unpleasant, even as Franklyn beamed down at you. Maybe it was something about the way he bared his teeth as he smiled. Perfectly pearly whites.

“Well thanks, Franklyn,” Jin cheers, moving to stand up. “I’ll go quickly browse the selection and pick out something for the ride. Give us just a minute!”

Franklyn nods happily, waiting for Jin to take you by the arm and lead you to the now-abandoned table of food. Once you reach it, some of the food still steaming lightly, Franklyn tips his hat to the two of you and runs up to the bus, mumbling something to the driver before leaning back out with his hand on the door, waiting.

“Fuck,” Jin hisses under his breath, “keep a smile on your face while you talk. He can’t get suspicious.”

You laugh and poke him playfully, though your heart pounds inside. “What’s going on?” you whisper. “I think something’s not right here.”

He reaches around you for a bread roll, lathering on some herby butter. “Listen to me very carefully, baby. We’re going to get on that bus, wait for it to pick up enough speed, and we’re going to pull the emergency door lever and jump out into the forest.”

You glance at Jin sharply, seeing Franklyn perk up at your movement. Forcing yourself to maintain a calm appearance, you let yourself freak out on the inside. “What do you mean, Jinnie? We can’t do that.”

“You feel it too, don’t you? They want us out of the city. There’s something they’re not telling us, something they’re hiding. I just know it.”

You pretend to inspect a squeeze bottle of sauce, trying to ignore the way your hands tremble as Franklyn in your blurry peripheral impatiently checks his watch. “Jinnie, I’m scared.”

“If we get caught, we say it was an accident. Trust me, honey, it’s better we leave them and their influence as soon as possible. I think they’re spiking our food.”

You gasp, catching it at the last second and letting the air bubble in your throat. “They can’t do that,” you defend reluctantly, though your stomach turns at the thought of the butterscotch pudding you had devoured just minutes before. “Do you really think so?”

“I’m convinced,” he replies shortly, picking up a paper plate stuffed full of goodies. “So take food to make it look like we’re eating, but don’t have any more, okay? I haven’t eaten any yet, so if something happens, I’ll take care of you.”

Your eyes prickle violently and your knees threaten to buckle. “Seokjinnie, I’m scared.”

“We should get back on the bus.”

“I don’t wanna get back on the bus.”

“We need to,” he instructs in a low voice, hand on the small of your back the only thing that anchors you. “We’ll get off soon, okay? Wait for my signal, then jump and roll. Don’t try and land, just roll.”

You stare as the entrance to the bus nears closer, Franklyn trying his best not to send you both a withering glare as he gestures for you to hurry up. “Okay, baby.”

Jin waits until he’s just within earshot of the tour guide before speaking up one last time. “We should’ve gone to fucking Hawaii.”

The impact jerks most of your memory from your mind. One moment the two of you are holding hands tight enough to turn the knuckles white, and the next your vision is blurred, a pounding in your head and sour copper in your mouth.

The two of you fall on grass, tumbling over each other as your momentum carries you, but it’s uneven and littered with stones from the road and snapped twigs from the forest. You spit out a mouthful of blood, stumbling to your feet with shivering limbs, and even as your ears ring, you hear your husband calling your name, tugging on your arm to pull you along towards the dense thicket of trees.

You’re blubbering, hiccuping on blood and snot and tears, but the squealing of tires drags your attention back up the road, where thick black streaks of tar lead to the bus, heads poking out the windows, and a bewildered redhead elf hopping out to stand on the road, yelling something you’re too shell-shocked to decipher. Jin tugs at your arm, jerking you forward, but it’s not until the elf, in his tan shorts and bright green short sleeved button-down, reaches up to remove his felt hat, chucking it to the side and breaking into a run, arms pumping furiously at his sides in tune to the jingling of the bells on his pointed shoes.

You cry out at the sight, finally catching your feet underneath you and sprinting as fast as you can, your husband hot on your heels. Darting through the trees, trying to watch out for uneven ground, you suck in shallow lungfuls of air, pushing and pushing as the two of you make it deeper into the forest. Soon enough, your lungs begin to burn and your legs ache, wanting nothing more than to curl up.

You halt yourself, ducking instinctively behind a tree, listening out over your panted breaths for any sign of Franklyn. As you slowly catch your breath, holding a hand over your mouth to muffle the sound, you turn to face your husband, who’s pressed up against an adjacent trunk, brows furrowed in concern.

The two of you stay like that for a moment as your ears strain for sound of anyone incoming, but there is none. Tentatively, you lean out from the cover of the tree and look around. You’ve gone deep enough into the forest that light is dim here, and you can no longer see the road. In fact, no matter which way you turn, you’re faced with a bleak infinity of tall, mournful trees, silent bar from the rustling.

Your blood runs cold. Silent. It’s not just a lack of noise from Franklyn. There’s no evidence of life anywhere, no chirping of birds or flapping of wings, no scratching of squirrels climbing up the trees. Your gaze falls down to the forest floor, a thick layer of pine needles, leaves and twigs lay over barren grey dirt. From outside, from the road, the forest looked rich, vibrant, branches heavy with snow. But here, the thicket is so densely packed that all the snow hangs heavy on the upper branches, and below is a dead void, long, bland tree trunks more like skeletons that living organisms.

“I think we lost them,” you husband whispers into the expanse. “Or at least he gave up on following us. Those shoes didn’t look built for running.”

Anticipating a day of exploring, the two of you had put on sneakers for the tour that morning from your hotel, and you feel so grateful for that decision. The pair of you in basic jeans and warm sweaters and jackets would be faring far better than the elves in their kitschy uniforms, and at this point you would take any advantage you could get.

But still, the odds were against you, and in the open hollow of the forest, you felt that more than ever. “Jinnie, what are we gonna do? We’re lost and we left that food on the bus.”

“It had something in it, Y/n.”

“Getting a little high or sleepy is better than starving to death!”

Seokjin sighs in internal frustration and rubs his face. “Y/n, sit down.”

You frown, legs folding to sit cross-legged on the ground. “Seokjinnie, it’s cold,” you complain. He stares at you for a few moments as you shuffle uncomfortably, trying to smooth out the prickly debris below. You huff at him. “What?”

“Why are you sitting down?” he asks softly. “It’s the middle of winter and those jeans are your only layer on your bottom half.”

You furrow your eyebrows. “Because you asked me to, assho-” You go stock still, gaze darting up to meet his in fear. “Oh god.”

Your husband’s face crumples, rushing forward to pull you back up by the arms. “They’re keeping us compliant, Y/n. Everything this tour has been showing us is a fucking lie. And if they stuff us up with free food that keeps us obedient, then we’ll go back home after the trip telling everyone how perfect and wonderful the North Pole was. I… I don’t know how long it’s going to take for the drugs to wear off, Y/n.” He pulls you into a hug suddenly, arms tight around your shoulders. His voice is shaky, thick. “If we meet someone, honey, you need to stay close to me, okay? You need to be very very careful.”

You nod, hands finding their way up to clutch at his back, breathing in his familiar scent. “Jinnie, we need to keep moving. I know it’s dangerous, but we have to find someone. We don’t know the terrain. If we don’t have anyone to help us we’re getting caught by nightfall. And besides; there’s no way we could survive this weather overnight without any supplies.”

He exhales heavily enough to ruffle the hair on the back of your head, squeezes you one last time, and pulls away. “You’re right,” he concedes with eyes bright with tears, “let’s keep going forward until we find something. Or someone.”

The walk is relatively peaceful, for a few hours. The exercise keeps your body warm, and the deeper into the forest you go, the scenery slowly begins to come to life again. After about an hour, the washed-out trunks are replaced with rich brown, stout builds with patches of moss bursting colour on the sides. The lifeless packed dirt softens and changes to soil, a spongy layer of freshly fallen leaves replacing the dry remnants that littered the outskirts.

It’s several hours before you hear anything other than your own steps. The sun slips lower and lower in the sky, a fat disc of yellow ochre that dissipates before it reaches you. Jin and you don’t speak, don’t waste the energy it would take to make conversation. The total, somber hush of the forest is broken for the first time by a high, piercing yell.

The two of you freeze suddenly, ducking behind the two nearest tree trunks like your lives depended on it. Without a visual of the action, your eyes go hazy staring back the way you came, at the deep wall of trees between you and the civilisation you ran from. You let your ears focus in instead.

There’s a solid thump, followed by the involuntary oof of someone being winded. You muffle a gasp and curl into a ball at the sound of multiple voices, jeering loudly.

“What are you gonna do now, Golden Boy? No one to defend you now. We got rid of Yoongi, and we’ll get rid of you, too.”

Another sound of impact, and the victim of the assault lets out a whine that echoes through the forest. “You’re just nasty! What did he ever do to you?”

A different, lower voice cuts in with another hit. “Oh, shut it, tinseltoes. The two of you are little rats, you don’t appreciate everything the ones in charge give you. It’s not just us; we had a request from the big guy himself to stop you from meddling.”

You and Jin share a frantic, wordless stare. He was right after all. There was something fishy going on. You can see on your husband’s face the way he reaches his decision. The emotions that play in his eyes, the doubt followed by determination. As the two separate voices continue to harass the third, Jin waves at you once to remain where you are, and jumps out from behind the tree. You gasp silently, shaking your head with wide eyes, but he’s already making his way towards the commotion.

“Hey! Stop picking on this poor elf!”

“And who the fuck do you think you are, pal?”

You cringe at the roughness of the strangers’ voices, cursing out why your husband would ever do that. Jin, however, just gets more fired up, and you hear surprised grunts, and some scuffling, like he’s shoved one or both of them.

The two begin to get louder, yelling, and the moment you hear the unmistakable sound of flesh impacting on flesh, you can’t stay in your spot any longer. Jumping out, your heart breaks at the sight of your husband cradling his cheek with a pained expression, opposite arm raised in a guarding position to protect himself.

Past him is a figure curled up on the ground, but you pay it no mind, keeping a careful eye on the two attacking elves. Both are short, but while one is scrawny, an unflattering comb-over under his felt hat, the other is stout, fist still clenched, an angry red colouring the deep lines on his face. Their attention is caught by your sudden movement, and they do a double take, glancing at Jin, then back at you.

“Wait a minute,” the taller one one growls, “what’s wrong with you two? Your faces aren’t….” He scrunches his face in disgust, spitting into the dirt thickly. “Fucking humans, aren’t you?”

The older elf narrows his eyes at you, open hatred on his face. You notice upon closer inspection that the both of them catch the light, a faint silver shimmer on their cheekbones. You wonder if this was the thing you and Jin were apparently lacking to out you as humans. “It’ll be the Sweet Adventures bus tour again. Dragging filthy mundane scum through the streets of Middlenog. You don’t belong here, got it?”

Jin sets his jaw with a wine, eyes bright with anger. “We’re the scum? You took this poor kid out into the middle of the woods just to beat him up.”

“If he had any elf-magic in him like the rest of us, he’d be able to fight back,” the older elf retorts.

The figure curled up behind Jin shifts, a head poking out from his legs. “I do-o,” he whines miserably, hiccuping a sob. Instinctively, Jin reaches down to place a hand protectively on the soft brown hair of the boy, patting comfortingly.

“Well, show us then, Golden Boy,” the brawny elf mocks. “Every other elf has enough for a little spark, so why can’t you? Do you really despise yourself that much? Fucking pathetic.”

A wet sniff comes from behind Jin’s thigh, and you watch small hands wrap themselves around his knee; even with two, his fingertips barely touch. Jin glances over at you with a pleading look, and you nod slowly. Clearly both of you had the same rising protective urge over this small elf that you hadn’t even properly seen.

Steeling your spine and hoping your stern face looks intimidating, you turn to the elves. “I bet you two haven’t visited any human cities, right?”

The smaller one curls his lip. “Why would we?”

You take a breath, willing your voice not to shake. “Then you probably don’t know much about our weapons.”

The two exchange a look. Jin tries to make eye contact with you, but you ignore him. “We know some,” the smaller one says warily.

“When I came here, I brought something to protect myself. I don’t want to have to use it, but I will.” Trying to disguise the trembling of your hands, you slip the backpack from your back. Of course the two of you hadn’t thought to pack food or water, or really anything for survival, but you do know one thing Jin insisted on bringing that just might save your asses. You reach in and pull it out, praying your husband’s look of bewilderment doesn’t ruin your bluff. “Do you know what this is?”

The elves stare wide-eyed at the can of spray-on cologne in your hand. Even the smallest ducks out from behind Jin, his wide doe eyes the first actual glimpse of his face you’ve seen thus far. The tougher elf reaches out an arm to prevent his friend from backing away when they see the spray bottle. “Is it… It’s not a gun, right?”

You grin. Thank fucking god. “That’s right,” you affirm with a nod, raising it quickly enough that they all flinch. “And if you don’t come back the way you came, I’ll have no choice but to fire. This gun is particularly effective because it can shoot at long distances. So you better watch your step all the way back home.”

The elf with the hat shrinks back, tugging at his companion, who stands there for a moment, nose flaring. Finally, he relents, not before jabbing a finger in your general direction. “The two of you will fucking pay for this, you hear me? The second we reach the town, we’re calling the Jollies on you. You may have won this time, but in the scheme of things, you’ve already lost.”

He shoots you one last glare, but you straighten your arm and tighten your finger on the trigger, and the two turn tail, rushing noisily through the trees. They glance back a few times to see if you’re still aiming at them, but you don’t let your arm fall until you can no longer make out their forms.

Once the tiny blips disappear from view, you let it drop, sinking to the ground in an anxious heap. “Jesus. Your fucking bougie cologne. After all that.”

Jin grins, but you can tell his relief from the way the tension leaves his shoulders. “You’re just lucky I have good taste, honeybun. That ‘bougie cologne’ just saved our lives.”

You hear a hiccup. “C-clone?” a small voice questions.

Your exhaustion leaves you, and instead your maternal instinct rises again. “Hey, little guy,” you coo, “are you okay? You’re not hurt?”

You see his tiny fingers scrunch up the thick fabric of Jin’s jeans as he buries his face out of sight again. “Can you put the clone gun away?” he cries out in a wavering voice. “Koo doesn’t like violence. ‘S scary.”

Jin laughs, a comforting sound to both you and the frightened elf. Ruffling his hair, Jin gently detaches the boy from his leg so that he can crouch down in front of him. “No need to be scared, buddy. It’s not a gun.”

The small figure has his knees up and his fists bunched up over his face, so that only his mussled hair shows. Slowly, though, his fingers relax. “It’s not?”

“It’s cologne. Something that makes you smell nice. Y/n was just tricking the mean men so that they’d leave us alone.”

He hums in consideration, brushing at the dust that’s collected on his overalls. In a total contrast of Franklyn and the other elves running the tour, both the two bullies and Koo were in extremely dull clothes, nothing like those TV-ready red-and-green confections that the others wore. The overalls you saw now were a washed-out green, clearly too big for him judging by the way the ankles had to be rolled up several times and the suspenders kept slipping off his shoulders. Underneath was a grey t-shirt, too thin to provide any real warmth, and his arms were prickled with goosebumps. In fact, the only real decent piece of clothing he wore were a pair of heavy-duty black boots, something you’d see in a factory. “Y/n,” the young elf repeats experimentally in a shaky voice. Your heart melts at the sound. “Y/n saved Koo?”

“Well, Jin helped too,” your husband defends immediately. “But yes. You’re safe with us, Koo.”

Finally, Koo drops his hands and lifts his face up. Eyes just as wide as before glimmer with unshed tears, wet streaks tracking over his cheeks, which are bright with a silver blush that glows from below the skin. Strange, you think. You hadn’t noticed that on Franklyn.

Jin sighs, fondly patting him on the cheek. “Listen, Koo. My wife and I jumped out of a tour bus, and we’re now pretty lost. I know you must be shaken up right now, but if you could help us, we’d really appreciate it. A place to stay, some food or water, even just directions.”

Koo rubs his button nose with the back of his hand, blinking owlishly. “You- You want my help?”

“If that’s okay.”

He squeezes his eyes shut, nose scrunched up with the effort of it, like he can’t process what your husband is telling him. Shaking his head, he opens his eyes again with a pout. “I’m not a very good elf to ask for help. I can’t even do elf-magic like everyone else. You don’t want me.”

You frown softly, shuffling closer to him. “How come you can’t do elf-magic? Were you not taught it or something?”

He rubs his eyes hastily, wiping away the tears that spring up again. “It’s not taught,” he explains in a shaky voice, “it comes from your heart. The more love you give and receive, the more magic you have. The other elves make fun of me because- because-” he jerks with a sob, burying his face in his hands again. When he talks again, it’s muffled. “Even if you’re the meanest, loneliest elf in the world, you still have a little bit of magic because of your self love. But Koo can’t even make a spark. I’m a bad elf,” he blubbers hopelessly, whole body wracked with sobs.

You stare at Jin with wide eyes, feeling yourself tear up at the confession. Without a second thought, you launch your body forward and wrap your arms around the crying elf in a tight hug, pulling him up so you can rub his back soothingly.

He freezes for a moment, but as you and Jin both coo sweet reassurances, you feel him go lax against you, arms coming up hesitantly to hug you back. You feel the pressure of his chin as he tucks it into the crook of your neck, and the wetness of his cheek on your skin. “Wh-what is this?” he questions in a weak voice.

“It’s a hug, Koo,” you explain haltingly. “Do you really not know what a hug is?”

“It’s nice,” the elf mumbles instead, wriggling slightly to snuggle in deeper.

You glance up at Jin over his shoulder. The pleading look in your eyes is probably akin to a child asking to a parent, can we keep him? but you can’t help yourself. There’s something about Koo, something about the innocent galaxies in his wide eyes, something about the way he buries himself into the warmth of a kind stranger like his life depends on it. There’s something about him that makes you want to keep him by your side, safe forever.

Judging by everything else you had seen so far, and what Koo had mentioned of the other elves, it didn’t seem like a very nice place for him to be living. When you left - that is, if you managed to leave - you wanted to take him with you.

“Koo,” you say slowly, “do you… do you have a place where we could stay for the night? We just need a night to regroup and then we’re going to try and go back home. Back to the human world. Would you like to come with us?”

You feel his chest expand in a deep breath as he regains himself. Gently, almost reluctantly, he pulls away to glance up at you, shaking his thick brunette hair from his face. Though you didn’t notice it before, it’s a lot longer than you would have expected, longer than any other elf you’d seen so far. He absentmindedly runs his fingers through it as he speaks, dislodging the twigs and leaves that are knotted up from being sprawled on the ground. He winces as a particularly matted section of hair gets caught, but his eyes are still so wide and vulnerable as they look up at you. “The human world? I- I don’t think I’d fit in there…”

Jin’s eyes soften sadly. “Do you fit in here?”

Koo drops his head, giving up on taming his disheveled locks. He shrugs solemnly in resignation. “I have a place I like to go to sometimes, when I wanna be alone. It’s not too far from here.” He lifts his head again, a small smile playing at his lips. It’s the first time you’ve seen him smile. “We call it the Clubhouse. You know; like Mickey Mouse?”

Jin laughs, brushing his jeans as he stands up. “You elves have Disney Channel or something?”

Koo cranes his neck up to the elder, shuffling his feet. “We don’t have television or internet here, but one of my cousins smuggled in some tapes once. Mickey was my favorite.”

Jin’s eyes dart to you in worry at the mention of smuggling. How bad was this place? “Could you take us to the Clubhouse, Koo? If you help us now, we can help you escape from here. Please.”

Indecision is plain to see on Koo’s face. His eyes waver, he sucks bottom lip into his mouth and hollows his cheeks, hands in his lap fiddling restlessly. "Uh... Mm... I don't know..." He darts his watery gaze over to you and you give him what you hope is your most reassuring smile. That seems to do it; the tension in his body melts, and he slumps, nodding in tiny jerks. "O-okay then. But I have one condition." He's never looked more serious, more grim. "You need to help me find my brother first."

---

With poor insulation, Koo's hideout is still on the colder side, though it's still far more tolerable than outside. As the three of you trekked through the thick forest, the sun had fallen, and quickly the outdoors was inhospitable. Although elves had done a good job over time at maintaining survivable temperatures right in the centre of the North Pole, the majority of the continent was still arctic tundra, and so a lot of the heat was leached or blown away by icy winds.

The Clubhouse really wasn't more than a cleverly-secluded treehouse, one that he had to guide you how to climb, with just the branches rather than planks or handholds to aid the way. It was sturdy enough that you felt comfortable staying the night, but three persons was clearly over capacity, as you had no choice but to sit directly on your husband's lap as Koo tucked himself into the corner opposite, taking a battered hairbrush to his tangles.

You lean into your husband's warmth, part of you wishing it was just him so that the two of you could be alone, but mostly grateful that you had come across an elf like Koo in the first place rather than freezing to death outside. Jin has his arms loosely around your waist, resting on your lap, but even just their weight is enough to reassure you a little. You tip your head back onto his shoulder, almost missing the look of something akin to confusion in Koo's eyes.

"So this brother of yours," Jin begins, "he's a criminal?"

Koo flinches, face crumpling. "He's not," he defends thickly, tossing his hairbrush noisily into the cabinet of belongings he took it from. "Yoongi shouldn't be in prison, he didn't do anything wrong."

"People don't just go to prison for no reason, Koo," Seokjin retorts, not unkindly, "we aren't judging, but we need to know what we're getting into here. Was it something small like stealing or is he a murde-"

"It wasn't his fault!" Koo fires back in a weak scream, making the two of you jump. He blinks, and fat tears fall from his lashes, barely touching his cheeks as they fall to wet the floor in dark spots. "It wasn't his fault," he repeats hollowly, making no effort to wipe his running nose. He lies against the back wall, staring into space, brows furrowed with guilt. "It was me. He took the fall to protect me." He breathes shakily, taking a moment to compose himself.

"Yoongi's a good person. He's my brother. We were working in the factory together when I was fifteen. It was-"

"A factory?" you interrupt incredulously. "When you were fifteen years old? That's child labour."

Koo's taken off-guard by your exclamation. "Well, yeah. Little elves work better in the smaller factories like tinsel factory where we worked because you can fit more. How else could we make money for food?"

Your eyes prickle violently as your hand comes up to cover your mouth.

Jin's voice is calm as it comes from behind you but you can see the way his hands tremble as they rest on your thighs. "So you and this Yoongi guy were working in the factory. Are you able to finish your story, Koo?"

The elf nods, wiping away his tears with a fist before continuing. "I didn't take it seriously back then. I was stupid, showing up late and not working hard. I had two strikes, and one day I accidentally broke the stringing machine. If I had gotten caught, I would've been fired and then Yoongi and I wouldn't have had enough money for the both of us. He thought if he said it was him it would be his first strike and it would be fine." He squeezes his eyes shut, forcing out more wet tracks to run down his cheeks, and his shoulders shake. "We didn't know. The three-strike policy was only for minors. He said he was the one that broke it and they took him to prison. To Candyland."

"Koo," you make out in a garbled sob, breaking Jin's hold to rush forward and pull him into a hug. It seems Koo recognises it this time, because he reaches his arms up like a child and lets you embrace him tightly, wailing noisily in your ear, shaking like a leaf. You squeeze him even more snugly as he lets out his heartbreak.

Jin moves past you in the cramped space to rub his back, sending you a worried gaze. "Koo, buddy, how old are you now?"

The boy sniffs. "Twenty-two," his voice sounds from behind you, heaved sobs slowly reducing to weak trembles.

Jin bites his lip, cheeks puffing out at the action. "Seven years, then. I-" he breaks off with a sigh, pinching the bridge of his nose. "I hate to say it, Koo, but there's a good chance he's not still in the same place he was taken away to. You don't know for sure that if we go to that prison Yoongi will even still be there. We're risking everything by putting ourselves in danger's way, and we might not get anything back for it."

You glare at your husband, rubbing Koo's shoulder yourself, but the younger boy just pushes off you, sitting up and twisting around to stare at Jin.

"I know," he says somberly, "but what kind of elf would I be if I didn't even try?"

Jin returns the eye contact silently for a moment, before nodding in resignation. "We'll go first thing tomorrow."

The prison is bigger than you imagined. Rather than a simple complex of cells, it's closer to a camp, with several different concrete buildings spread across an open expanse of barren grey dirt. An endless trail of hunched over elves spill out of a bungalow furthest from the bushes you've ducked behind, single-file like ants as they make their way in tattered overalls over the lifeless land and towards a massive building, tall enough to block out the weak sun, wide enough that the far end almost disappears into the horizon, what looks like an endless, monstrous factory topped by several twisting chimneys that force up black smoke that clots the sky in smears of grey, sucking up any remaining colour.

Koo's face is stricken, looking over it. You suspect he's never actually witnessed it up close, though it was only a few hours' walk from his treehouse. Your one saving grace had been the lack of any elves out and about in the backstreets of Middlenog so early in the morning when you had rushed there, but now it seemed that luck had run out.

Regular patrols roamed the yard, easy to spot as they were the only elves in the traditional bright colours - though even then, they were closer to heavy military than friendly Christmas elves. Their uniforms were thick, tough fabric like you'd see a SWAT team wear, but they were a dark red like dried blood. The pants were tucked into solid camo-green boots, and each and every one you could spot were holding giant guns, painted over the same shade of muddy green, held in the arms or slung over a shoulder. From the ones close enough to see properly, their faces were hardset, all tough jaws and furrowed brows. Nothing like the softness of Koo's features, with his plump cheeks and delicate lips.

Speaking of the young elf, you glance back over at him in concern. His face has gone so pale that almost all of his silver glow has leached away, and his hands are shaking violently. In preparation of the risky heist, he had put his hair up off his face, two strips of ragged fabric serving as ties, one on either side, just above and behind his ears. The pigtails would be cute, were it not for the long-lived sorrow in his eyes.

"And this place is called Candyland?" Jin questions incredulously. "It's a nightmare, is what it is. Jesus."

Koo bites his lip with a shrug. "It used to just be called the Middlenog Penitentiary, I think. But when we started getting human tourists... Well, us elves aren't meant to interact with humans anyway, but just in case they got lost or something, they didn't want the humans to think we have a prison. If we just say Candyland, they assume it's nice."

Your mind whirs, your stomach turning. "It's gotta be over thirty years, right?"

Jin frowns. "Huh?"

"The North Pole has been open to tourists since, like, the eighties or something. All that time and nobody's seen how horrible it really is? When we get out, we have to say something, maybe we can- I don't know, stop it? How does nobody know about this?"

Jin opens his mouth with the beginnings of a shrug, but then freezes, mouth dropping open. "Fuck." Koo jumps a little at the curse word, worried pout deepening, but your husband's attention is fully on you, a frantic fear in his eyes that you've never seen before. "Y/n. You know all those stories on the news, tourists that went off-tour and went missing or died?"

You nod automatically, before what he's implying sinks in. "You don't think..."

Jin reaches out to grip onto your hand tightly, breathing through his nose to try and stop his voice from wobbling. "If this is what they treat their own people like, imagine what they'll do to outsiders. If we get caught, honey, I don't think it's just going to be a slap on the wrist or deportation."

Your fingers tighten around his in fear, and you glance back the way you came, debating just turning around and giving up on the whole prison-break scheme. But then you turn around again, and you see the vulnerability in Koo's eyes, the careful hope, the deep-residing guilt. You swallow hard. "Then we don't get caught."

Jin sighs out slowly. "Yeah. Okay." He shuffles a bit to adjust his crouching position, and lets go of your hand to place both on Koo's shoulders. "Listen. Do you have any information on where he'd be, how we're going to find him?"

Koo takes a stabling breath. "Um, I think, he- If he's still here, you can probably find him in the sleeping part, over there." He points, careful to keep his hand out of view of the patrol, to the bungalow where elves still pour out in a slow trudge. "It's alphabetical order, so Yoongi will still be waiting to go, I think. The beds have names too, apparently. Yoongi always told me that's how they keep track of them all, make sure every bed with a name has an elf in that night."

Jin processes this, jaw working. "So that means by tonight, they'll notice him missing?" Koo nods. "Fuck, so we need to get back to the station before then."

You feel tendrils of doubt wrap around your lungs, shortening your breath. "How are we gonna get past the security, Jinnie? I bet Franklyn's already warned them that we're missing."

"We can't think about that now," Jin brushes off, his brow furrowed with concern as he glances past the bush, out to the single-file prisoners and patrolling guards. "Okay. There's a scrawnier elf heading our way, his rifle's tucked away, I can knock him out and use the uniform. Koo; what does Yoongi look like?"

You tip your head to the side. "Jin, why doesn't Koo just g-"

"You both are staying right here," your husband swiftly interrupts, voice lowering into a hush as the guard slowly strolls closer and closer. "If anything happens to me, Koo can get you out of here. Okay?"

Your eyes widen with alarm, but you force yourself to keep to a barely-audible whisper. "No! Not okay, Jin, I'm not leaving without you."

He glances up one last time, his face relaxing into grim acceptance and determination. He ducks forward, pressing a tender kiss to the top of your forehead, just on your hairline. "I love you," he mouths almost silently.

You reach up to grip his wrist, but he reluctantly shakes you off, and shuffles to the edge of the wild patch of bushes you're hid behind. The moment the guard passes into sight, Jin jumps, slapping a had over the guard's mouth and pinching his nose shut. He pulls the smaller body down, trapping his arms with a tight embrace and pinning down his legs against the ground.

You and Koo latch onto each other muffling your mouths as the figure struggles for a few long moments, grunts slipping out from behind Jin's palm occasionally. Finally, he goes limp, and Jin holds him still for another thirty seconds or so to be sure, before releasing him and urgently stripping off the uniform, awkwardly slipping it on as he remains crouched out of sight.

Noiseless tears track down your face and over your hand at the sight, at how what had meant to be a peaceful holiday had spiralled into something so twisted and threatening.

The uniform is too small for Jin, and you see him wince as the tough hem digs into his neck, but he forces the boots on and shuffles over to the two of you one last time, patting Koo's knee.

"I need to know something," he mutters hurriedly, "something only you and Yoongi know. In case he doesn't believe me. And I need to know what he looks like."

Koo's eyes waver in thought. "Well, he has light brown hair, almost blonde, like honey. He's short. Um. He kind of looks like a cat when he gets grumpy." Koo's face softens, a wisp of a smile playing at his lips. "Actually, that's what you can tell him. When we were really young, before either of us worked in the factory, we would go play in the forest or the fields all day. He'd pretend to be a cat, and I would be a bunny, and we'd chase each other and run around for hours, acting like we were free." A sudden flood of tears fills his eyes and overflows down his cheeks. "Tell him I miss him and I can't wait to see him."

Jin manages one sad smile before he's standing up, walking further into the yard the way the guard came, letting a stern gaze harden his features. Your heart thuds as he slowly wanders towards the bungalow, fighting the urge to hurry. Once he slips past the outflow of workers, you exhale, turning your back to the prickly wall of bush that conceals you.

The moment your gaze settles back, your mouth drops open, and you have to forcibly restrain yourself from swearing out loud. Beside the unconscious body, in nothing but a pair of plain briefs and grey woolly socks, lays Jin's jeans and jacket, and further beyond that, a gun. The guard's gun, that he must have either accidentally forgot or chosen not to carry. Fuck. Your husband was going into enemy territory with nothing to defend him. Worry fills you again like a sour balloon, blocking your airways and turning your stomach.

Beside you, Koo sniffs away his tears and tentatively shuffles closer to you, his arm pressing into yours. You glance over, and tuck your arm around him to pull him into a hug. "We'll get Yoongi," you promise, "if anyone can do it, it's Jin."

Koo snuggles in, short fingers fiddling with the hem of your shirt absentmindedly. "Y/n," he starts.

"Hm?"

"Is Jin your brother?"

You barely manage to suppress a surprised laugh, it coming out as a snort instead. Hastily, you glance back to ensure your noise didn't attract any unwanted attention, but all the patrolling guards seem to have moved away, closer to the factory entrance where the incoming stream has bottlenecked, slowing down the line all the way to the bungalow. Hopefully this buys Jin more time to find Yoongi.

Bringing your attention back to the frightened elf in your arms, you shake your head, soothingly rubbing your hand up and down his outer arm. "Jin's my husband."

"Huz-bin?"

You freeze, glancing down at the boy. "Husband," you correct. "You don't have husband and wife here? No marriage? Boyfriend, girlfriend?"

He sits up, out of your embrace. "Huh? We have friends. Well; some of us have friends, yeah. I don't understand the other words," he admits, head ducking forward so that his pigtails dip, partially covering his face.

You find yourself struggling for words. "It's- Well, it's like love. Um. You love Yoongi, right?" Koo frowns slightly, like he's not following. "There are different types of love, you know. Love between friends, and between brothers, like you and Yoongi. You can give each other hugs to show your love. Another type of love is romantic. As well as hugs, you kiss each other and... do stuff like that. God, I don't know how to- Do you know what kissing is, Koo?" He shakes his head blankly.

You rub your eyes tiredly. "Man, how wou- Oh! Just before, when Jin left us to go, he kissed me on the forehead. Do you remember that?"

Koo thinks back, eyes wandering, before nodding slowly. "Like..." He presses his lips out in a full pout and dips, the motion of Jin pressing a kiss to your forehead, although far more awkward.

Despite the entire nightmare you'd ended up in, you find yourself grinning at his jerky imitation of a kiss. "Yeah, that's it, Koo. People that love each other romantically can kiss each other in lots of different places. It's really common in the human world. When Jin and I take you and Yoongi back home with us, you'll see."

Koo nods with a grateful smile, but he can't help the tears that fill his eyes again. "I hope so," he sobs quietly. "I hope it's us four."

Your heart breaks, and you can't think to do anything but nod, throat tight. Suddenly, you hear footsteps quickly approaching, and you gasp, clapping a hand over your mouth and whirling around to glance past the bush into the courtyard, melting when you see your husband, intact and unharmed, dragging a prisoner by the upper arm.

"Koo, it's them," you rush out, and the younger elf lets out a surprised whimper, clutching at your sleeve as he glances out.

The shorter figure that Jin tugs along is stumbling and flailing as if to struggle and break away, but his grime-streaked face is light with awe.

"Yoongi!" Koo squeals desperately, voice cracking, and you can see the way both Jin and Yoongi's eyes widen in fear at the noise.

You hurriedly turn and grab onto Koo, shushing him as you frantically glance around to see if any guards overheard, before turning to Jin and shaking your head. Though he keeps his inconspicuous, glacial pace, the tension in his face relaxes.

Koo's vibrating like an energizer bunny underneath you, jumping uncontrollably in his excitement, though he manages to stay quiet enough until the two men are close enough to cast their shadows over you.

You release your arms, patting Koo on the back encouragingly. "Give him a hug, baby." The pet name slips out without you noticing, but Koo is too distracted to even hear it, gasping at the idea and leaping up to take the smaller elf in his arms.

Even though Koo is smaller than the average male human, Yoongi is even tinier, barely taller than five foot. As Koo throws himself at him, burying his face into the crook of Yoongi's neck, his eyes go wide in bewilderment, a deep silver blush rising on his cheeks and the tips of his ears. Even with the dirt on his face, his glow is clear to see as he's embraced by Koo, mouth falling open and delicately slanted eyes startled like a kitten. You smile warmly as you see the resemblance to a cat that Koo spoke about.

"Wh-what is this, Koo?" Yoongi's voice is lower than Koo's, but so soft, so gentle, and the younger boy whines happily and holds him even tighter.

"It's a hug, Yoonie," Koo explains, his voice muffled. "The nice humans taught me. It means I love you, hyung."

Suddenly, like he understands, Yoongi raises his arms and wraps them around Koo's back, hugging him back with a fierce protectiveness that warms your heart. "I missed you Koo, I'm so sorry I left, I'm so sorry, hyung won't leave you ever again."

Koo sobs openly, murmuring something back you can't hear, and as the two quietly exchange sweet nothings to each other, you look up plaintively at your husband, hands out to invite him closer.

With eyes brimming with love and relief, he picks you up off the ground with ease, hands shifting to cup your face tenderly.

"I was worried," you pout, feeling your heart slowly return to its normal rate now that Jin is back with you again.

"I was gone five minutes tops," he brushes off, though his body still trembles slightly with the rush of adrenaline and relief. "Anyway, we need to get a move on, honey. Let's head ba..." He trails off, staring behind you with widening eyes.

Only then do you realise that all four of you are standing, blowing cover right on the outskirts of the prison complex. Your blood runs cold as you glance out behind Jin, further into the camp. As the last of the prisoners disappear into the factory, the guards follow behind, only one or two going the other way, into the bungalows to make sure everyone's left. You relax just slightly. It seems you missed getting caught by sheer luck-

"Hands up."

You go stiff as a board when you hear the voice from behind you, and you swear internally as you remember the missing part of the equation. As Jin shoves you hastily behind him protectively, you turn around to see the guard from earlier, standing in nothing but his underwear and socks, brandishing the gun directly at the four of you.

Jin throws his hands up, you following suit instinctively, and he shuffles the two of you back to join Koo and Yoongi, who've broken apart in shock, glancing back at forth at the guard and Jin, waiting anxiously for something to happen.

"There are four of us and one of you," Jin says slowly, "so just let us go and this will be better for everyone."

The guard, a slightly tubby but still built middle-aged elf, bristles, adjusting his grip on the gun. "I'm the one that's armed here," he forces out, "so you better watch it."

Jin shrugs, arms still raised. "Even so," he says, voice somehow completely calm, "I don't think you have the balls to actually do it."

You gasp loudly, breathing out your husband's name in surprise, but he just shushes you, shifting so his broad frame covers yours completely.

Your heart thuds in alarm as the guard flushes with anger, face reddening and finger tightening on the trigger.

"I will," he insists, though his voice isn't as stable as he probably intends it to be. "Why are you two trying to save stupid elves anyway? You won't get away with this."

Something about his comment rubs you the wrong way, niggles the back of your mind, an issue you can't quite put your finger on. As your mind whirs, your hands slowly slip lower and lower. Poking your head out from around Jin's side, you take a closer look at the weapon that's pointed at your heads. The paint is flaked off in some places from wear and tear, and you frown as you glance down the barrel, at how thin the hole is down the centre. There's something, too, about how wide and rounded the place where the bullets go is. You really know nothing about guns, have never needed to inspect one up close, but you're certain it shouldn't be-

It hits you, all at once. The second you make out the writing, the raised lettering that paint concealed but couldn't hide completely. MATTEL.

Your hands fall to your sides. You think perhaps his lips moving is him yelling at you to raise them, but really you don't care.

It's a toy gun. A water gun, probably, judging by the shape of it. This whole prison is run on empty threats. There's no danger here, not really.

Perhaps you would be scared of the potential of elf-magic, that tool which you didn't fully understand, but even then you know that's not a factor.

The guard barks an order at you, waving the gun like it's anything except cheap plastic, his face colouring an aggressive red as he raises his voice, trying to attract attention. "Stupid elves," he had said.

He wasn't an elf at all.

You turn your back on him, glancing behind Yoongi and Koo as a couple of guards rush out of buildings, looking around for the source of the commotion. This one guard with a kids' toy was no threat, but there were strength in numbers.

You share a look with Jin, before each grabbing a hand of Koo and Yoongi respectively, yelling at them to run and tugging them, as fast as you could go, towards the outskirts of the town, suburbs with countless windy, abandoned alleys for the four of you to lose the guards in.

You hear Koo let out a little scream when the guard pulls the trigger at you as you all rush past him, and a lukewarm spray of water hits you, wetting stripes over your clothes and hair, getting you on the back of the neck.

You all continue to run, closer to the first line of houses, feeling the sprays of water grow more distant. As all other factors disappear, and your survival instinct kicks in, the last thing you remember hearing is a peal of joyous, hiccupy laughter as Yoongi finally breaks free from Candyland.

The walk back feels longer. Perhaps it’s the constant fear of getting caught, of guards still hot on your tail, or perhaps it’s your urgency to get back home, but several times the four of you have to stop for a break, resting your body weight on age-old tree trunks and letting your muscles ache in their reprieve.

As the weak sun grows high in the sky, filtered through lofty canopies, you’re finally stopped by Koo as he silently points upward, where an inconscpicuous tree hides the Clubhouse. You hadn’t even seen the crude wooden form as you approached, so well was it hidden between branches.

Koo lets you and your husband get up first, guiding you from the bottom with one hand, the other still firmly interlocked with Yoongi’s. They had held hands the whole way home, like even a second without physical contact could tear them apart again. You couldn’t blame them.

Koo had overgrown his older sibling over the years, and while Yoongi tried to grumble about it, there was nothing but warmth in his voice, and he couldn’t hide the silver heat that rushed to his face and the tips of his ears whenever the two locked gazes.

You and Jin had suggested bypassing the hideout entirely, knowing that it would surely be better to go straight towards the station. Yoongi, however, was quietly but firmly adamant on revisiting the treehouse him and Koo had built as children, and you tried not to grow frustrated at the delay.

The station that you had initially arrived at was somewhat like an airport, rather than a real continuing line. There was one stop in and one stop out of the North Pole. A portal sustained by a deep silver glow of elf magic had taken a busload of tourists from a small city in Denmark - the closest place to the Arctic - directly into Middlenog, where heavy lines of security monitored everyone arriving and departing. At the time, you had marvelled at how safe and well-run everything was. Now, the thought of somehow sneaking past all those people seemed impossible.

“Are you coming up?” Jin calls down from his crouched perch in the treehouse. Having left his old clothes behind, he was stuck in the unflattering milital wear of the prison guards, and you could tell the sizing was an issue, his neck bearing a red ring where the hem had dug in.

You think you hear Yoongi muttering something as he potters around the base of the tree.

Koo cranes his neck up, eyes crinkled happily. “Just a minute!”

You’ve never seen him so cheery before, the way his head bobs between Yoongi and the two of you, two bundles of hair tied on either side of his face to show an excited grin. You watch Jin visibly soften at the sight, a gentle smile smoothing out the lines in his face.

After several moments of slow rustling, you finally hear a happy gasp, and Yoongi’s form stands up again, holding a small wooden box covered in dead leaves and dirt. He brushes it off, and tucks it under one arm, awkwardly climbing the tree one-handed to sit beside you with a pleased huff, thumbing the worn corners.

“You have it, Yoonie?” Koo calls up hopefully. After receiving confirmation, he joins the three of you, pressed tightly up against his older brother, resting his chin on Yoongi’s shoulder. “After all this time, hyung.”

“What is it?” you question curiously, leaning forward to stare at the small case, eyes wide as you watch Yoongi gently flick open the two metal latches to lift the lid. The hinges are slightly rusted, and he has to put all his strength into it, but the moment it gives and swings open, a pale silver light emanates from within, and Yoongi’s face goes lax with relief.

“I can’t believe it’s still here,” Yoongi breathes. He delicately sets down the box on his lap, pushing it closed and cradling it. He turns his head to the side, where Koo’s face is inches away from his own. With a rueful smile, he reaches up and pinches the flesh of Koo’s cheek fondly. “We were gonna run away, just Koo and I. One of my old friends once told me that if you pooled enough magic, you could make your own portal, a back door of sorts. It was how we were gonna escape. Back then.”

Koo’s eyes turn mournful, and his bottom lip wobbles just slightly. “I’m so sorry, Yoonie. I tried to keep adding to it for when you could come back home, but I couldn’t make any by myself.”

Yoongi just shushes him quietly, pressing his lips together in a sad smile. “I understand, Koo. But… there are four of us now. I don’t think this is enough for all of us.”

Koo lifts his head off Yoongi’s shoulder. “What if we made some more now?”

“Closer?” Jin questions, lines of worry back on his face with the bad news.

Yoongi mulls this over, biting his lip. “I don’t know if it would be enough…” He breaks off and looks up at you and Jin. “If we got closer, past the Middlenog border, I think we’d have a clearer path to the human world. Word in Candyland was that the elves in charge are using something to suppress elf magic. None of the guys in there could even make a spark. But perhaps if we made it out in the tundra, we’d be able to. We’d risk getting caught, but it’s our best chance.”

You share a look with Jin, shrugging in defeat. “We’ve come so far,” you point out, “why not test our luck one more time?”

The doubt on Yoongi’s face isn’t eased, the small elf’s delicate mouth twisting in concern. “But… We’d have to work fast. As well as dampening magic, the Middlenog borders protect the climate too. I don’t know how long we’ll survive out in the tundra. Even if we pass the border patrol, if we get there and it doesn’t work, we’re dead.”

It’s Koo that speaks up, a quiet resolve within that speaks beyond his years. “We’re dead already, Yoongi. Do you really think they’ll risk just sending you back to Candyland?”

Yoongi’s brow crumples, but he nods shortly, grabbing the box and standing up, holding a hand out to his brother. “We need to hurry,” he explains. “I know a way to the border, but we have to make it before sunset.”

Jin stands too, bending at the waist to avoid hitting his head on the roof. “Then let’s go.”

Although the walk to the Clubhouse was stressful, the two hour trek to the border is a nightmare. Yoongi leads you through shady backstreets and abandoned suburbs, Middlenog growing more desperate the further away from the centre you go. The constant threat of being caught out keeps all of you on edge, and the only conversation shared is whispered instructions and warnings.

The way Yoongi was taking you was only a couple of hundred metres west of the more populated, touristy areas. The heavily monitored areas. It also meant that you’d be avoiding the station, instead attempting to sneak out past the city limits away from the crowds. It was risky, because, like most countries, the North Pole had strict border patrol, but your chances were certainly higher than going through the regular channels.

It surprises you, the stark difference between the city and the tundra. Even as you approach, hidden by an overrun, wild orchard, you can see the line at which dirt and concrete becomes ice, the place where calm air gives way to billowing snow drifts. Even as your anxiety rises at the thought of braving such uninhabitable wilderness, there’s also a slow building of hope. Your freedom lay there, barely thirty feet away.

“Do you know how often patrols are?” you question, staring at the free space between you and the border.

Yoongi shifts, keeping the box pressed close to him. “Pretty regularly, but it won’t take us long to make it across, and then we can open the portal straight away.” Turning back to the two of you with a serious look, he places a hand on Koo’s back protectively. “It’s important that the two of you think of home. Your house, I suppose. Do you have the same house?”

You crack a brief smile at Yoongi’s obliviousness to the concept of marriage, but sober your expression and nod. “We just picture our house?” Yoongi nods, taking another glance out at the open land in front of you. “Then how will you two picture it? You’ve never seen it before; I don’t think either of us has a photo of the house on our phones.”

Yoongi’s brow furrows at the use of the word ‘phones’, but just shrugs patiently. “My home is with Koo.”

Koo nods, a gentle expression on his face. “And my home is with hyung, of course, but… But also with you two. Maybe?”

Your smile returns, warmer this time. “Both of you have a home with us, always.” Your throat constricts, and you clear it with a harsh cough. “Okay, if the border patrol isn’t coming anytime soon, I say we just go. We’re sitting ducks just waiting.”

“Ducks?” Koo repeats in confusion.

Jin barks a short laugh, and pats Koo on the shoulder. “Come on, kid. Let’s go home.”

The four of you ready yourselves - kept together a line connected by tightly-held hands - take one last glance for any patrolling elves, and then make a break for the border. Koo is in the front, Jin next, you third, and Yoongi bringing up the rear. As you sprint, you focus on the line where lifeless grey becomes luminous white, and the warmth of Jin and Yoongi’s hands in yours, fuelling your momentum.

The plunge of the Arctic grows nearer and nearer, and you feel your heart leap, marvelling at your final stroke of luck, when, just as your husband’s front foot leaps past the border, your back arm goes taut, the sudden snap back breaking your grip on his hand, and you and Yoongi go flying backwards.

You groan as you hit the cold, unforgiving dirt of Middlenog, shoving yourself up as quickly as your aching body allows to work out what happened. A yelp brings your worst fear to light, and you whirl around to see Yoongi being roughly dragged to his feet by a familiar face, a shock of red hair shining out beneath his felt cap. Franklyn.

Your eyes widen, more so when out of nowhere a burly arm wraps around you, pinning you to a solid chest. You cry out in rage, kicking, but the body the red-sleeved arm belongs to is far taller than you, and your toes barely touch the ground, placing all the pressure on your constricted chest.

On the other side, already buffetted by flakes of snow, your husband and Koo stare in horror as your group of four is violently split apart, and they rush forward, only to freeze when a third elf, one you recognise as the driver of the tour bus, lifts a sleek black revolver in their direction. Jin goes deathly pale and Koo, even in his elf-borne naivety, recognises the true danger of the loaded gun.

“What do you want?” Jin calls out, but the driver just stands silently, more of a guard dog than anyone worth negotiating with.

Franklyn, however, shifts Yoongi in his grasp, holding the struggling elf under one arm like a child as he crouches down to retrieve the fallen wooden box.

“Leave him alone, you bully!” Koo cries, stomping his foot in lieu of actually stepping forward like you can tell he’s itching to.

Franklyn laughs, craning his head as at least twenty elves, some in the same tactical uniforms Jin was in, flood out of a nondescript residential building directly beside the orchard, all carrying loaded weapons, ones a threatening gleam told you were all real. You watch in bafflement as they surround you, five or six of them taking the wooden box of magic from Franklyn, disappearing back into the building. Yoongi twists helplessly and lets out a wail as your only exit gets taken away, and you yourself feel your spirit die, going limp in the hold you were trapped in.

Franklyn passes Yoongi off to a more muscular elf, who doesn’t hesitate to rest the tip of his weapon against Yoongi’s jaw, and you hear the horrified sobs of Koo, even as his voice is whipped away by vicious winds that bring out an angry silver on his face. Jin fights back tears, nose and ears already a raw red from the cold. He gives you a mournful look, an apology that runs deeper than words, and you shake your head mutely. None of you could have known it would come to this.

“Did you really think,” Franklyn poses smugly, strolling forward to stand in front of you, a twisted grin on his face, “that you’d make it out of here? With two elves, no less? This isn’t a pet store, Miss Y/n.”

“No, it’s a fucking concentration camp,” you spit out, watching in rage as he lazily itches a spot on his collarbone, a red line rising on the surface after a few moments.

Franklyn, not an elf after all but a human like you, laughs. “It’s not our fault they’re so naive,” he deflects. With an evil glint in his eye, he runs a finger down your cheek, laughing as you squirm, and your husband yells from the other side. “It’s not our fault you are either,” he adds.

You go still. “What do you mean?”

He continues to pat your cheek patronisingly, gripping your jaw to keep your eyes on him. “It was fun, you know; watching that little red dot wander all over Middlenog. For a moment there, we thought you had actually been arrested. Imagine our surprise when the tracker came right back out.”

“Tracker,” you repeat slowly, feeling your stomach lurch.

Franklyn lets go of you, wiping his hand on the garishly festive costume he dons. “It’s a shame your darling husband didn’t enjoy any of the free food we offered. Luckily, just one of you was enough.”

You let out a shaky breath, beyond disgusted. “You guys are evil,” you snap at him, “and you won’t get away with this.”

Franklyn shrugs slowly. “I think we will, actually. First I’m going to shoot our little escaped convict here, then I’ll shoot you, and finally we’ll all sit and wait and see how long it takes the men out there to freeze to death.

You let out a sob, glancing over at your husband, who’s shivering violently, arms wrapped around the smaller body of Koo, both of them with icy tears freezing on their faces. “Fuck,” you whine, “please just me say goodbye. That’s all. Please just let me say goodbye to him.”

Franklyn sighs in resignation, dropping his head as he considers. After a moment, he nods slowly, and lifts it up again, staring you in the eye. “No.”

The foul taste of copper fills your mouth, and you realise that you’ve accidentally bitten into your lip, opening up the still-healing wounds from your fall from the tour bus earlier. It seems like years ago, even if it was only yesterday. The pain sobers you, and as fresh tears track endlessly down your face, you lean into it, poking your tongue at the rawness of it, keeping your eyes open as you watch Franklyn make his way over to Yoongi.

Finally stopping his struggle, Yoongi goes stock still in the hold of the human dressed as an elf. His feet dangle uselessly around the height of the man’s knees, and he glares at Franklyn as he approaches, taking the gun from the man to point it directly at Yoongi himself.

Yoongi’s bottom lip trembles, but he keeps his dignity, staring hard at the man who holds his life in his hand, all silver gone from his face from fear.

Past the border, you can still hear Koo’s mournful screaming, writhing and squirming in Jin’s grasp even as his voice cracks from the thin air. Franklyn ignores him, and that just makes the younger elf wail louder, kicking his legs out as he begs desperately.

The redheaded man cocks the gun, humming to himself as he aims, waving the barrel over Yoongi’s mouth, eyes, forehead, before settling under his chin, pointing up, watching as the elf fights his tears.

“This hurts me, you know,” Franklyn says with a sigh, though you see the glee in his eyes. “It hurts me to have to kill you. You’re no use to us dead. You filthy fucking elves should be grateful that we give you money for food and shelter, all in exchange for easy factory work. But no. Even after we dress up like Christmas monkeys to make you feel safe, even after we give you jobs, you’re still not grateful. So while it’s a shame that I’m wasting my resources here, I can’t deny that I’m going to enjoy this quite a bit. Come on; count down with me. Three.”

Yoongi finally lets out a sob, causing the human to laugh wickedly. You stare helplessly onwards, wanting to look away but feeling like you had to show this brave young elf support to the very end. His eyes aren’t on you, though.

“Two.”

Yoongi’s staring directly at his younger brother, directly at Koo. His eyes widen.

“One.”

Koo’s glowing.

Just as time slows down, and you see Franklyn’s finger tighten on the trigger, a sudden burst of light envelops you, and all the people around you. You shut your eyes, clenching them shut reflexively even as the blinding silver penetrates your eyelids.

You feel the grip around you vanish suddenly, and you fall to the ground without it, banging your knees and elbows on the hard dirt, pressing your hands over you eyes as a thick blanket of silence wraps around you.

When the endless silver light drops away, streaks of neon paint the black of your vision, constant starbusts that flicker when you blink. You groan, sitting up and staring in wonder at the scene that greets you.

Yoongi’s on the ground too, slowly getting up just like you. But every single human, every attacker in sight, is totally unmoving, some with arms or legs bent at awkward angles.

You and Yoongi’s eyes meet in wonder, the elf’s nose and upper lip smeared with liquid silver, drying like blood, and at the same time you look outward, towards the Arctic wilderness.

Jin’s on the ground, covered in snow, but no longer are relentless waves and buffets whipping his hair and clothes around. Instead, the air is perfectly still, like a bubble around him and Koo.

And Koo.

The youngest elf is the only one still standing, panting with wide eyes as the radiant glow beneath his skin slowly fades to a regular silver flush. The air is peaceful around him too, and once you get up off the ground you see a new line, a curve that leads out and around him, like an extension of the climate of Middlenog itself. He catches his breath quietly for a few moments, staring at the three of you and the destruction he caused to the humans.

Then, breaking the stunned silence of the group, Yoongi heaves out a relieved cry and rushes forward, taking Koo in his arms, the motion of a hug now ingrained in him as a sign of love. Koo breaks down in his grasp, and even though he’s larger, he looks so small in his older brother’s arms.

“So scared, hyung, I was so scared, they were gonna take you away again, Koo couldn’t-”

“I know,” Yoongi simply coos, rubbing his back and stroking his hair, both pigtails having long since fallen out from the wind. “But I’m still here, bunny. You saved me.”

Before you even realise he’s moving, Jin’s barreled into you full force, sweeping you off your feet in a spin, planting frantic kisses on every inch of your face. You squeal, breaking into an involuntary giggle when you feel his ice-cold lips on you, relaxing into his secure embrace.

“Fucking hell, I almost pissed myself,” Jin admits, and you laugh in a sort of delirious euphoria, throwing your arms up over his shoulders and pulling him in for a proper kiss. “I’m serious,” Jin muffles around your lips, “not even ‘cause I was scared, I just needed the warmth.”

“Stop it,” you whine with a dopey grin, “that’s not romantic at all. What about, ‘I thought I was gonna lose you, I love you so much?’”

Jin pulls back from you, cupping your cheeks tenderly and looking deep into your eyes. “I’ve never been more scared in my entire life,” he admits. “You’re my whole world, you know that? I love you.”

“I love you too,” you whisper back reverentially. “Now let’s go home.”

When you join the other two, you see Koo’s been busy. Behind him and Yoongi is a steadily growing window of molten silver, shifting like liquid though staying in a rough oval as it gets larger and larger. Yoongi’s staring at him, eyes brimming with pride, and as he reaches out to gently grab onto Koo’s hands, the portal expands faster, blooming with their combined efforts.

You and Jin wait in awed silence until it’s done, and the two elves turn back to you, flanking your sides.

“Think of home,” Yoongi instructs. Almost shyly, he reaches out his hand for you to hold on to, and Koo does the same to your husband. A small smile plays at his lips as his eyes dart to his younger brother and back to you. “And thank you.”

With overwhelming emotion making your eyes prickle, you turn to Jin, squeeze his hand a little tighter, and step forward.

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