#so it kind of settles itself as a name for the mundane for safety for comfort.
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pet names
[ID: Black and white comic of Vash and Wolfwood from Trigun Maximum. Vash overhears a conversation from a nearby table at the restaurant they're seated at, the unnamed character saying, "Honey, can you pass me that?" Their partner says, "Sure thing, angel." The unnamed character begins again, "Say, did you hear the news from earlier?" In response, "Haven't got the chance. Tell me about it?" Vash smiles fondly, listening in as the conversation continues, "You'd never guess, babe! The runner--" Abruptly, the conversation is cut in by a "Needle nogging", Vash's expression changing instantly and no longer smiling. The panel cuts to Wolfwood who smiles lop-sidedly, pointing at Vash's plate and says, "If you're not going to eat that. I'll take it." Vash grabs the plate and holds it away and says, "Mine" while Wolfwood clicks his tongue. He pauses for a moment before asking slowly, "Hey, is there any reason you don't use cute names with me?" Wolfwood lifts a cup of water up to his lips, looking confused. He says, "I do though." Vash cuts in, "Spikey and needle nogging aren't cute!"
Vash continues with a shy expression, "Since we're together now..." he trails off and Wolfwood picks up, taking a sip of water as he says thoughtfully, "Together, huh..." Vash pauses in his sentence with a look of confusion before reaffirming, "We are together, right?" Wolfwood nods, "Right." Vash says, "Right", before continuing, his shy expression returning, "Then you can use stuff like... honey or-" Wolfwood cuts in this time and says casually, "You're not a honey though." A panel cuts of Vash's expression changing again, shocked. He asks, "Huh? Then who is?" Wolfwood says immediately, "Milly." Vash exclaims, "Milly?!" Wolfwood continues, "She's sweet, just like honey." A bubble pops up of Milly smiling as Wolfwood speaks. Vash continues, "Okay, true... What about sweetpea?" Wolfwood responds, "Kids. Kids are sweetpea. And pumpkin too." Vash continues, "Okay... What about baby?" Wolfwood says without hesitation, "Meryl." Vash exclaims again, "Meryl?!" Wolfwood explains," Noisy, like a baby." Vash mutters, "Hey, that's a bit mean..."
Vash continues persistently, "Then what about babe?" Wolfwood shrugs with a grin, "You are not a babe." Vash looks at him, slightly frustrated before exclaiming with flushed cheeks, "Then what am I?!" Wolfwood points at his hair and smiles softly, "I told you. You're the one and only needle nogging." A panel closes in on Vash's widen eyes, cheeks still red, pausing before he ultimately resigns, planting his face into the palms of his hands and muttering, "I give up..." At the same time, Wolfwood sneaks and grabs the plate of food that Vash left unattended, saying in response, "You get up cuaght up about the dumbest things, y'know that?"
The comic then picks up again to a jump in time, after they've left the restaurant. Wolfwood muses to Vash, "You said all that about the names earlier, but I don't hear ya using them for me." Vash looks to him excitably and asks, "Did you want me to?" Wolfwood looks at him with an uncertain expression, "Not really, but I guess I am curious..." Vash beams, "Then let's try some, okay... dear?" He fingerguns Wolfwood with a grin, little hearts surrounding him. Wolfwood just looks at him neutrally and says, "Okay," while thinking to himself, "Cute..." Vash exclaims, "So unenthusiastic!"
The next comic picks up at a different time, but on the same theme of pet names. Vash hugs Wolfwood and says to him, "Thank you, my love." A panel close up of Vash steadily opening his eyes before he sees Wolfwood's reaction up close, his eyes glancing away, cheeks flushed, and the smoke out of his cig forming soft hearts as he mutters, "Sure..." In a smaller, cartoonish style, Vash has a comedically exaggerated expression of shock and widened eyes as he grips Wolfwood by the shoulders while Wolfwood still wears a shy expression. He then nudges his head to the side of Wolfwood's with a close eyed happy smile, hugging him close and says, "So, there WAS one you liked!" Wolfwood, still looking away, but now with an irritated and embarrassed expression, grumbles, "Shut up..."
The final image is a short sequence. Wolfwood is working on something, spacing out as he does, while Vash from off screen calls for him, starting with "Babeeee? Babe? Beautiful? Honey? My love?" All of which gets no reaction from Wolfwood. Vash pauses for a moment before piping up again, "wolfwood?" Wolfwood turns around, finally noticing that Vash was calling for him and asks, "What?" A box at the bottom of the page says, "Unresponsive to anything other than his names." END ID]
#vashwood#vash the stampede#nicholas d wolfwood#trigun#trigun maximum#ULTIMATELY the most convenient is to stick to needle noggin and wolfwood because it just makes the most sense to them. i also think the way#they refer to each other is such a like.. distancing manner at first.#because i think wolfwood DID call vash by his name at first right?? i mean it was spiraling from vash the stampede to vash and then to#spikey in that one town near the beginning of maximum#i dont know how to word it but the fact they call each other these particular monikers that dont get regularly echoed by others#IN PARTICULARLY needle noggin being SO specific to vash from wolfwood really pushes in the special place wolfwood has in vash's life.#wolfwood doesnt get the name wolfwood used for him often too. hes been called priest chapel nicholas nico....#but vash uses wolfwood out of all of them. kills me every time#its just like the safest name for him. the thing about wolfwood is that it still is universally used for him too. he introduces himself as#nicholas d wolfwood to others as seen from when he first met vash.... regular citizens or kids mightv called him mr wolfwood and stuff...#so it kind of settles itself as a name for the mundane for safety for comfort.#but then they call each other by their first names in vol 10 and i . shatter sfx. needle noggin and wolfwood are so Precious to them for#each other but they're capable of using each other's first names too in such a gentle manner. i mean when vash used nicholas#it was in comforting gesture too. nicholas is who melanie and the kids know and that nicholas is still very much there even pass#the bloodshed. and when ww uses vash so his family knows of vash and his identity and the safety the name vash reflects...
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𝘋𝘪𝘰 𝘪𝘯 𝘏𝘦𝘢𝘷𝘦𝘯 — 𝘗𝘳𝘦𝘷𝘪𝘦𝘸
art credits • dividers • The Bride of Dio
Maron’s Notes: This takes place AFTER The Bride of Dio (even though it is still on-going as of July 2023) I planned on making a post-JoJo Part 3 Series and this is a snippet of the beginning of it. It doesn’t spoil the events of the current story. You just need to have watched JoJo part 3 to kinda understand what’s going on!
This is where we begin to diverge from the ending of Stardust Crusaders and more into the territory of my own original content with my favorite characters. Thank you for supporting me and I hope you enjoy what I’ve been writing so far.
Started: May 6, 2023 at 3:53 PM
All of his life, Dio Brando, was described to be a demon. His methods, attitude, state-of-mind was reminiscent of the Lucifer himself. In the slums of London, he was once told that “the devil smiles upon him” through the birthmark that could be found upon his ear by a fortune teller. Then again by his associate named Enyaba. His actions for the rest of his life seemed to prove this fortune true. Dio became a menace.
Dio was always self-destructive and acted in self interest. He cared little of who he hurt, as long as he would get what he wanted from whoever he was taking it from. This caused him to ruin every good thing he’s ever earned in his life. The most notable thing being his wife. She was the only person that ever lived with the strength to love a hellspawn like him.
And he knew that.
Dio wanted nothing but to give her the world—in his way. He didn’t want to settle for mundane life with her. It wasn’t enough. He wanted to be a King—A God; her his Goddess. He wanted his beautiful wife to be just like him. He wanted her to be just as ruthless and cold to her subjects and enemies. She would mother his children; any that he gave her. They would all rule the world while his kin were able to take whatever they wanted for themselves.
It didn’t turn out that way…and it was the fault of the Joestars. The JoJo that he failed to kill: Jotaro Kujo, empowered with a stand reminiscent of Jonathan Joestar himself. Dio swore, that in his final moments, he could see Jonathan’s face of disappointment within Jotaro. The only thing he could think was that he should’ve killed Erina too.
But what of you, his wife? Well, Dio didn’t know. He didn’t know if he’d ever see you again. You most likely didn’t want to. Now, that he has learned that there is indeed an afterlife, he assumed you’d be in Heaven. Your crimes compared to his were mere child’s play. Any sims you committed could easily be forgiven. The two of you had been separated for some time. He didn’t think the day would come where he would see the end of his suffering…
…but it did.
Dio Brando atoned for all the sins he committed in his lifetime and was now allowed to go to Heaven. The Devil wasn’t as kind to Dio as he had been gaslit to think his whole life, no, he was treated the exact same. (If not, worse.) Perhaps, Heaven prove to be sweeter to him.
From the pits of Hell, Dio was rescued by an Angel that brought him to safety. He wasn’t able to see his Savior until the blood red sky he was so familiar with turned into one of baby blue. The Angel was abnormally big, being of blond hair and olive skin just like him. They were male presenting with enormous wings and a spotless white robe, carrying Dio as if he were a sack of potatoes. The two of them reached Heaven’s entrance where he was then thrown to the ground.
“Stand, worm.” The Angel’s voice was deep as it rumbled the ground. Dio, on his hands and knees, could only take in the scenery around him. It was beautiful. The sky burned his eyes before they were adjusted to the sudden change. Around him were clouds that you could stand on, white marble pillars and structures. This was Heaven?
Suddenly, an anger filled Dio that not even the seven Hells could contain. His ego was too strong to be humbled by Hell itself. His eyes narrowed at the Angel, his nose scrunching up in disgust as he jumped to his feet. He wore clothes that were torn, tattered and he was barefoot as well. Hell sure didn’t care about your quality of life.
“Worm!?” Dio repeated. He approached the Angel before him, not at all caring about how less intimidating he looked compared to this supreme being before him. “How dare you!?” He grabbed a fist of the Angel’s garbs. He pulled him closer as he screamed in his face. “Do you know who I am!? I am—“
Dio was struck across the face, once again being leveled with the ground. The man had only been hit a few times within his life but this was like no other.
“You are a worm. You are a sinner. The only reason why I have brought you here is through the request of another.” The Angel spoke through his clenched jaw, voice laced with venom and hatred for the mortal before him.
‘…request of another…?’
“Now, go before I change my mind and drop you back down there.” The Angel shoo’d Dio away, gesturing towards Heaven’s gates in front of him. They were marvelous and just the way they had been imagined in various medias in the world of the living.
With much uncertainty, Dio climbed to his feet and made his way through the gates. He suddenly felt more at ease, the same way one would after putting on nice clean clothes after a shower. Looking down at himself, he saw that his clothes were no longer shredded rags. They were now reminiscent of the things he wore as a young man. A white dress shirt and beige colored bottoms. It was definitely his style as he was unable to let go of the Victorian style fashion that he grew up in.
There was no one else around him and no directions. He would only put together that he needed to keep walking forward; and he did. Dio didn’t cover a lot of distance before he heard faint voices talking. He wasn’t able to tell what any of them were saying until he got closer.
“Calm down, child. You mustn’t worry yourself with such trivial things. I’ve already sent Azriel.” A feminine voice, one that sounded of a mother; a tone that anyone could recognize. “But you told me that he would arrive today!” The second voice was also feminine extremely familiar. Dio could recognize that whining anywhere!
Then he heard a male sigh. “Angela’s right, (y/n). You don’t need to be upsetting yourself. We don’t know when—“ the man then gasped. “There he is! Dio!”
It was you and…Jonathan.
“Dio!?” You perked up, looking to your far left to see it was none other than your husband. A well of emotions bubbled inside of you once you saw him. You gasped as well, running over to him for a sweet embrace. Dio looked extremely confused, hesitant to wrap his arms around you.
“This isn’t an illusion…?” Dio rested his chin upon your head, feeling your warmth once again. You couldn’t help but laugh. “Of course not, Dio!” You pulled away, holding his hands and intertwining your fingers. “I missed you so much.”
Dio’s eyes widened. You missed him?
Hi, again! This is just a tidbit for now. I kinda work ahead whenever I get stuck. I wish we got more Dio content in JJBA so I had more events to insert the reader into. Coming up with original content and scenarios is hard 🗿
#jojo x reader#jojo's bizarre adventure#jojo imagines#jjba headcanons#dio x black reader#The Bride of Dio#dio imagines#dio headcanons#dio x reader#dio brando x reader#dio x you
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Empathetic (Bucky Barnes Oneshot)
Character/s: Bucky
Word Count: 1,288
Tag List: Not including
A/N: This is my 1,000th way of saying I want to be taken care of and I want him to do it. Basically. Home is hard right now, it hurts a lot, and I just needed to write a bit for therapy. Things will get better soon. Idk maybe it's weird, but if it can help anyone struggling with basic things, then that's all that matters :) 💕 Feedback is always appreciated 💜💖💜
FIC MASTERLISTS / TAG LIST
The bathroom smells of mold. Spores sleeping just beneath the surface. That distinct, pungent odor. Not entirely overpowering, rather growing, pulsing alongside the steam of the water. It’s there. You’re overtly aware of its presence, as if it were growing out of your back, from your stomach and arms. Sprouting from your spine. All of it is wet. Humid. Uncomfortable. It threatens to suffocate you. Then again, what doesn’t? What doesn’t feel like too much? You search for it, some sign, proof, but there is none. No dark spots, no birthmarks, nothing on the edge that screams rot, that announces itself the way so many things do. A feeling mostly, and that ache. In the middle of your chest, in the middle of your sternum. Deep and painful, the whole bone cracking, crumbling. It leaves you sobbing. It leaves you pleading. It leaves you feeling dirty, hence the shallow waters of a dirty bathtub. You should clean it more. Scrub it ‘till it shines. You should do a lot of things more frequently. Carve a routine from the mundanity of your days. Breathing is work enough. Exhausting enough. Oh well. The bloated walls moaning, groaning, all of it too thick. A sponge for the hours, days, lifetimes you’ve spent soaking under the water. The damp towels hanging over the edge, dipping shyly in the water long cooled. There is a vague soapy undertone to the room. Hints, attempts, but nothing with a name. Nothing distinct. You like to think of yourself vaguely soap-adjacent. Neither of you put up much of a fight. A single drop across the floor, a bump, a nudge, and you’re forever dented. Scarred. Unsettled. Like it, or like you, you find yourself swaying which way. Something for people to use until they no longer need you, until you’ve grown small and fragile. Breakable. The bar lays in her dish. No one wants you at your most vulnerable, turning to the bin for answers. She is exhausted. If she had bones, joints, blood vessels, if she could bruise you were sure she’d be covered. Deep purples, golden yellows, the kind of palette an artist would use when they fumed, burned with a passion for pain. She too would sob quietly at the end of her days for no particular reason than this life she’s been gifted, that she often feels as if she’s taking for granted, leaves more scars than she anticipated.
You are grateful she is just soap. Unfeeling and numerous.
Behind the mirror, sitting on their individual sleeves, are bottles. Containers that hold your whole life. White labels. Congealed liquids. Gels. Pills. Lotions. Creams. Oils. The things you use to hold yourself together, things you thought might fix the problem. Problem. Singular, it can be such a horrific idea. A lie you wish to wash over yourself. They are wgite and yellow and blue and green and red, their shades all in pastel. Pastel is cheery. It is childlike. There is safety in chewy, sweet colors. The pills. Your pills. Some work. Others don’t. It doesn’t really matter anymore. They are decorations at their worst. If only that was your worst. In front of the mirror you can’t stand to look so you don’t. There are imperfections. There are tea stained cheeks and deep bags beneath tired eyes. There are things, miniscule things, to fixate on, to tear apart. It’s the only form of self love you’ve ever been shown: criticism. A disgust, a feeling shy of hatred. When the water runs, it burns, and you are thankful for the steam that settles across your image. Blurring spots and shapes and colors. The sink is sweet. Slim, tender, she waits while you wash your hands, while you spit and sob and scream. Of all her sisters, she is your favorite. The faucet streams without doubt, shielding the world out there from in here. Vice versa. You could stand there for days, statue-esque, with nothing but the faucet turned on. A dribble, a drip, unapologetically controlled yet released by her emotions. This act buys you both time. A minute, perhaps even two, before you must gather all your pieces and pretend what you’re doing isn’t self-sabotage.
Like this isn’t suicide.
He doesn’t need to knock, but he will. Quietly. Softly. As if he were afraid to wake the dead. You don’t say anything. You can’t. He comes in anyways. He holds a towel. Fluffy, warm, fresh from the dryer. You would have chosen anything but. Flimsy, holy, full of holes. Something quick. You would have done anything not to show yourself, your body, a speck of kindness. He drags out soaps. Not your bar, not your little lady who cries and cries. Bottles, mostly full, of all scents. Strong. Abrasive. A sponge, too. He doesn’t say what he thinks, what he wishes to say, though he never had to. You could always read it in his features. Between the lines of his face. The tighten of his jaw. The crease of his forehead. He is upset. Not with you, never with you, merely the circumstances. A yearning for the water to be warmer, more welcoming. For things to be easier. For the world to be kinder. You don’t shrink from his touch, from his sight. Trapped in a nakedness you feel is far more vulnerable than sobbing in front of him and bearing your open soul, there is little left to do than accept. His presence was never an inconvenience, a nuisance, nor predatory. Rather this is his routine, his way of communicating. Loving. Without him, the impossible task would never get done. You would never find your way out. You would never wash off the outermost layer of dread and depression. Carefully, gently, he’ll place your hand in his, bubbles smooth across your fingers, your palm and wrist. Skin of lead, it is difficult to lift both arms, a chin, tilt a head side to side, all on your own. Knees to chest. Fetal position. He talks lightly of his day, the idea of you going without revolting. Disrespectful. You want to nod along, to laugh and ask questions. For now that is too much. For now catatonic, but not forever. He jokes, he knows just what to say, how to say it, as he cups the water, leans you back.
There is not a second of patronization.
With his fingertips, he circles the apples of your cheeks, the bridge of your nose, along your hairline. This is the last. It is almost over. You watch through teary eyes. This was not the plan. This was never the plan. And yet, it is. It was. Always. To care is to do so wholeheartedly. Without judgment. Without hesitation. He stands you slowly, the towel wrapped around you as if it were holding you together. His shirt is wet. Stained. Your hand print on his shoulder. It lingers. The plug of the drain is pulled. Gurgling like a newborn, it rids the room of any evidence. You rest your head against him, a wordless thank you. It is all you can manage. That and the brush of a tear. Bucky is all smiles, his arms wrapped around you as if he’d never let go. He didn’t want to. The kind that are easy, effortless. The kind you understand is of joy, pride, not at himself, but you. Only for you, for what you’ve accomplished. It doesn’t feel like much. It rarely ever does. But he is proud. He knows it is one step closer. It will be okay again. You will be able to do it on your own, without him, without help. One day, but not today. And that’s okay. It always will be.
#writing#bucky barnes#bucky barnes drabble#bucky barnes oneshot#the falcon and the winter soldier#the falcon and the winter soldier oneshot#the falcon and the winter soldier drabble#fatws#fatws drabble#fatws oneshot#marvel#marvel drabble#marvel oneshot
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Truly Important
Summary: A look at some of the more important birthdays that Saw Paing has had, and the one he celebrated right after the tournament.
A/n: It's still July 8th, so I'm on time w/this. Nonetheless, I slept five hours so I apologize for lack of proofreading.
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The first birthday that Saw Paing truly considers important is his fifth one, the day he gets to start Lethwei training for the very first time. He comes home covered in scratches and bruises and a trickle of blood running down his forehead. His father fusses a little and his ma doesn’t let him up until she bandages every little cut and bruise but nothing can spoil his good mood as Ne Win Paing puts him in a headlock and their little sister congratulates him on the start of his training.
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Most birthdays to Saw Paing aren’t majorly important beyond the fact that even as a fighter Pa Paing did his best to see every single child on their birthday every year. But some are important because there’s new people in his life, people who aren't’ there, certain benchmarks and events that are important in and of themselves, but are easier to tie to years and dates and celebrations.
Saw Paing’s sixteenth birthday is remembered fondly only because it is one week before he meets his eternal rival for the very first time, a boy named Gaolang Wongsawat.
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Seventeen. Nothing particularly important. Current youngest brother starts his training that year.
Eighteen. Important solely by the freedom it grants in travelling. Almost all countries recognize eighteen as an age of majority, an age where you can do a lot of things that would be illegal otherwise like go somewhere without an adult’s supervision or rent a car so you have your own transport. Going to places outside of Myanmar and Thailand is the most interesting he’s done in his entire life.
Nineteen. He finally gets a job outside the village. The weapons corporation that hired him is run by an old man and a teenage girl with a vicious streak longer than the destruction radius of the missiles she’s designed. Still, they hired him to safety test things and work to rescue people in afflicted areas, not attack them. It’s Togo Tomari’s brilliant ruthlessness that causes him to end up in the same place as Muteba for a month. Another friendship struck up with someone he’s fought against. A birthday gift of an absolutely gorgeous button-up with twelve patterns and wild color is dropped off at his door that year. Even though the gifter will likely never see it, Saw Paing wears the shirt with pride as often as he can for the next few years.
Twenty. Barely important but it was Gaolang’s eighteenth birthday that year and the time the title ‘God of War’ starts creeping into people’s thoughts about him. Saw Paing cheers his rival on whenever possible.
Twenty-one. Nothing. Little sister asks out crush, dates her for seven months and change before they have to break up because the crush’s family is moving. He and Muteba have each others numbers saved and text between missions.
Twenty-two. He and Ne Win Paing get to fight outside of legal matches for the first time. It’s exhilarating. Their father hugs them both afterwards and tells them how proud he is.
Twenty-three. The first birthday in their family celebrated after Pa Paing passes. It’s somber. Saw Paing would rather have skipped the day entirely if not for how his youngest siblings all seemed determined to follow traditions for at least the illusion of normalcy and he’s not about to ruin their coping process just because he’s sad. With Ne Win Paing travelling nearly full-time and recovering when he’s home, Saw Paing is the de facto leader of the family and he’s not going to let them down so easily.
That night there’s a card delivered to him by a hassled-looking mail carrier. It’s from Gaolang.
I heard about your father’s death, Saw Paing. My deepest condolences to both you and your family. Take care of yourself. Do what you must to feel more stable.
To anyone else the writing would be cold and impersonal. Saw Paing re-reads it over and over until a drop splashes onto it and the crinkling of paper registers and then he hurriedly folds it and drops it onto the desk in his room so it doesn’t get destroyed.
If in two weeks when they next see each other, Gaolang relents and truly fights Saw Paing for twenty minutes before declaring a defeat form boredom, neither of them acknowledge the change in routine anymore than they acknowledge that Saw Paing’s yelling is more like loud talking and that Gaolang had made an extra plate of his favorite fish seemingly just in case.
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Twenty-four. Saw Paing meets Sayaka for the very first time that year, a bright and sunshine-sweet teenager who screams out his intro and doesn’t seem to mind that he’s super-loud or that his opponent throws him into the commentators box and nearly crushes her by accident.
When he had apologized she made a joke about it. He made one back. A friendship stronger than any other he’d made was started that day. Sayaka reminds him of his little sisters, friendly and upbeat and ready to take on the world if she has to and come out with a smile, sharp wit and keen mind concealed under a bubbly layer that requires no lying to maintain.
That year his birthday includes a surprise delivery of a completely new set of cookware with a small note attached.
Happy birthday, Saw! Sorry I couldn’t make it, dad scheduled fifty matches for this week alone so I’m not even sleeping, but I hope you like it! See you in May (PS I’m secretly rooting for you!)
That night Saw Paing makes dinner for everyone with said cookware and an unflappable grin on his face.
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Twenty-five. Nothing.
Twenty-six. His little sister is now formally competing on a near-national level. His brothers, no longer so small but always little in his eyes, work hard to bring in food and water and trade with the local villages and Saw Paing never stops feeling proud of them.
Twenty-seven. More and more fights in the arena. He leaves Tomari’s contracts behind but keeps in touch with Muteba. A chance metal concert allows him to meet Yoshiko, who in turn introduces him to Sawada. Saw Paing mails him several CDs of traditional Burmese music for the other man’s birthday. Gets a collection of ballet remixes in exchange. Listens to the collection every night for weeks and weeks on end until he can whistle half the songs without thinking. Smiles at how many small reminders he has now of the people he cares about.
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Twenty-eight. The coldest and harshest one yet. Ne Win Paing is not there that year. Everyone���s energy is lower than usual. Saw Paing spends the day mostly taking care of the youngest siblings and visiting the graves of those he’s lost. He can feel the wrongness of this land on his skin, it’s Yoroizuka’s home and that’s better than the alternatives but it is not his home or their home or the home that his family deserved and had grown up in and lost because of Ne Win Paing or maybe because Saw Paing should have noticed sooner, should have caught onto the damage his brother had taken.
Sayaka leaves twenty voicemails and thirty texts, all reassurance and compassion and kindness that Saw Paing is beginning to doubt he deserves. Sawada had arranged for several boxes of their favorite sweets from all over the world to be delivered to his house. Muteba messages him a list of names and places if he needs to fight the emotions out or to talk to a professional specializing in fighters and loss of loved ones and tells him to cherish the rest of his family.
Gaolang visits that evening, sleeplessness evident in his posture and eyebags. It’s rarer and rarer for the two of them to see each other now, between the jobs they both hold and duties they’re bound to. Saw Paing’s first priority will always be his family, just as at the end of the day the Thai God of War is not that but the bodyguard of Prince Rama of Thailand. And yet here they are, sitting next to a firepit just outside a house that was not truly meant for Saw Paing’s family, in a country outside of Gaolang’s own.
“Are you alright?” Gaolang asks him. Saw Paing looks up.
I’ll be fine, he wants to say, thinks instead because even things like talking feel like too much right now. He settles for a nod instead, one that feels too slow and tired to really be him but has to be because who else could he be? Gaolang does not look reassured by this. He sits down next to Saw Paing and talks. That quiet voice, normally at least partially twinged with annoyance and exhaustion, now flows with an undertone of gentle energy. It’s not the fire that Saw Paing usually feels running through his veins. Nor is it Ne Win Paing’s quick fury or Pa Paing’s ruthless confidence.
No, it’s the other kind of energy, the kind that Gaolang always emits though it’s hidden under the day-to-day life’s mundaneness. Gaolang tell him about fights, about what guarding Prince Rama has been like for him, some recipe his parents love and he despises because of how annoyingly spicy it is and how Saw Paing would probably like it. And then he talks about staring into a fire.
“Look,” Gaolang motions at it. “It moves so incredibly, alive and unalive at once.” Saw Paing looks into the fire, watches the moving flames flicker and dance in and out of existence. Next to him, Gaolang smiles.
“It reminds me of you sometimes. The difference is fire burns out. I truly hope you never do.” They sit next to each other, watching for a while until something in Saw Paing’s chest undoes itself, letting some feeling back in. Gaolang notices.
“Tell me about Ne Win Paing,” he asks, shoulder brushing against Saw Paing’s own, warmer than the air around by just enough to be noticeable without feeling too off-balance. And so he does, spilling out every little detail he can remember about his brother and all of the memories that were crafted for as long as he can remember. The sky is light when he finishes, still tired but somehow lighter. That something that had unwound a bit earlier is almost completely gone. He’s still saddened by the loss of one of the greatest people in his life, but things look a little better.
Gaolang leaves then, apologetic but unable to stay. Saw Paing nods at him again to say it’s alright and it must come across sufficiently this time, because Gaolang’s smiling softly as he walks to his car and drives back to his too-loud and too-busy life for such a quiet man and yet a life that couldn’t be anyone else’s.
Saw Paing’s younger siblings are slowly waking up, coming out to check up on him and start their day. He hugs them, feeling his spirit coming back to something normal.
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Twenty-nine. Still a tad colder than before but mostly better.
Thirty. A year with little occurring beyond the increasing amount of kengan matches and the frequency that he gets to see old friends like Sayaka. The tournament that happens later in the year is undoubtedly something unforgettable that he;ll treasure for the rest of his life. So many new friends made, so many bonds forged and strengthened. He makes it a point to keep correspondence with all of them, even the more quiet ones like Karo and Rei. They clearly need the company if they're quite that quiet.
Thirty-one. He wakes up expecting another birthday that’s rather insignificant. His sisters and brothers in college call and Skype and do whatever else they need to say hello first thing in the morning, yelling through the screen loud enough that he can her the dorm’s complaints through the call. The siblings still at home whether from sentimentality or youth wake him minutes before that by running into his room and wishing a happy birthday to him at the top of their lungs. He’s so proud of their lung training being quite so successful.
He checks his phone after all of the younger siblings hang up out of habit. There’s another twelve messages from various members of the assassin clans he’s befriended, a missed call from Cosmo, a notification about a post from Adam, and an alert of the local post office telling him about several packages that are addressed to him.
On the journey to the post office and back he gets six more calls. As he’s balancing reading a short ‘happy birthday!’ texted to him from Cosmo and a rambly congratulation courtesy of Okubo that is interrupted by an incoming call from either Hanafusa or Yoshizawa, a wonderfully familiar voice calls out.
“Saw! Over here!” Sayaka stands by the edge of the road, looking as red carpet-ready as always, except for the small trolley of boxes and bags she’s keeping from rolling away.
“HEY SAYAKAAAA!!!!!” He yells to her as he runs over. She’s hugging him so there’s no reason not to complete their usual greeting by picking her up and spinning in several circles.
“Happy birthday, Saw!” She laughs as he puts her down. “Sorry I didn’t warn you, but there was a lot of last minute stuff and everyone wanted to send something to you and it was ‘one more thing’ this and ‘oh wait here!’ that, and it’s so great to see you again! Here!” the packages he was holding until two seconds ago are now in Sayaka’s hands, traded for a fancy-looking photo album.
“It’s for you. I wish I could stay, but Retsudo’s been flipping out for six hours and he threatened to send a SAR squad again, but I promise i’ll call this evening, kay? See ya soon, Saw Paing!” She runs to the familiar figures of Takyama and Misasa, waving the whole time they drive away until she’s out of his line of sight. Only tnen does Saw Paing turn his attention to the trolley and the photo album.
Getting everything home requires ignoring messages and calls so his plan to find out what these things are that everyone was so determined to send to him has to wait another hour or so but then he finally has the time to check everything out.
There’s two gorgeous shirts that fit perfectly, bright greens and yellows combining with the soft fabric and reminding him of his old shirt but nicer. This, he knows without even needing to check the card, is a gift that only someone like Muteba would have gotten him. A thick book of various recipes from several different regions in Japan, along with an impressively full binder of leaflet instructions for dishes made in the mountains is sent courtesy of Sekibayashi and Haruo.
A sharp-looking knife that seems to be more familiar with intestines sliding across its blade than vegetables is gifted by the Kures he’d met after Hayami’s rebellion, right next to several ‘free assassination’ coupons Reichii and Fusui must have snuck in as a half-joke and and half-true gift.
Most of the things are actually quite small, just fragile and packaged with an insane amount of cushioning, he realizes. It’s nothing particularly fancy, but they’re all things that will remind him of the senders, be it the scalpel that Hanafusa mailed him with instructions on how to DIY surgery or the old shogi set Kaneda gifts along with a book on most famous shogi strategies played throughout history.
Saw Paing moves everything to where it should be once everything but the photo album has been looked through. The cookbooks go to a specific shelf in the kitchen that no one else can reach. The weapons are hidden in a small box under his bed to avoid any incidents. Muteba’s shirts go onto hangers, Sawada’s fancy candies are set on a plate for eating while looking at this final gift, and then the album is opened.
The first photo makes him smile, a perfect snapshot from one of his earliest fights in the Kengan matches, capturing the moment they had both gone from enemies to friends mid-blow. A date, presumably of when the photo was taken, is written on the border in Sayaka’s neat writing. The second one is of Ne Win Paing from seven years ago. This time, the date is in heavier, blockier writing, not unlike Hollis’s. Saw Paing flips through the album a little more, taking it in. there’s plenty of photos of his various friends, fellow fighters, and even some family from the tournament and before it, but there’s also old photos of his brother and father, and even one of his mother back when she had fought in occasional matches, along with candids of some of the more stoic people. They must have been collected over several months, and not just by Sayaka.
Saw Paing already knows what will happen this evening. Gaolang will come over with some kind of small yet so deeply personal way of also saying happy birthday. Sayaka will call again, most likely throwing a small party in the Katahara house and inviting everyone she can. Rei might stop by and even if he doesn’t, he’ll Skype before the sun sets because he’s a punctual person by both nature and training.
But that’s still hours away, and in the meantime, Saw Paing decides to keep looking at the beautiful snapshots of the past, enjoying the present to it’s fullest.
------
END.
#happy birthday to my all-time fave#saw paing yoroizuka#sayaka katahara#gaolang wongsawat#ne win paing#pa paing#kenganverse#kengan ashura#kengan#fic#fanfic#my writing#I wrote this in one sitting please if you like it leave a comment or rb or somehting
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15.20 Final Thoughts
Supernatural is over, and somehow, despite itself, it did the very best it could to please me. That was always going to be an impossible task. But truly, sincerely, that finale was as close to my desires as the show could ever bring itself to come, and so, so much closer than I ever dreamed it would dare.
I am so, so glad that no other regular characters were involved (Bobby aside, but he was brief). How better to encapsulate their own emptiness? How fundamentally fitting, than in the epilogue to their final battle, wherein the entire world beyond them was erased, the wider universe is merely set dressing for them to move through. And it was so quiet this way. This finale wasn’t overcrowded or rushed. It kept its own peace. And it preserved the tangible claustrophobia that 15.19 invoked: that tangled, lovely, solipsistic, toxic conviction that these are the only two people on earth that matter.
It’s unclear exactly how much time passed between 15.19 and 15.20. I like to think it’s been at least a year, given that they’ve settled into routine and that their grief seems less fresh. (Although yes, the concept of Dean dying on his very first hunt without a resurrection available is hilarious, I must confess.) Their calm domesticity, their peace, was lovely to watch (Sam kicking the laundry machine! Sam with wet hair! Sam running! Sam cooking, Sam looking a little less bulky than usual, and happy!) But man, it really is Dean’s world, isn’t it? Even the DOG, which really, really, really could reasonably have been primarily Sam’s, was Dean’s dog first and foremost. Then on Dean’s say-so, they get in Dean’s car to drive to a pie festival for Dean. Sam is perfectly content to go along with all of it.
As if we hadn’t gotten enough delightful fanservice, we also got one last scene of Sam threatening to torture someone to death. :) what a king.
I love that Dean died to an OSHA violation while fighting a random loose end from season 1 (which, by the way, I CALLED IT, I am so proud of myself). It’s perfectly mundane. I truly and deeply do not understand anyone complaining that Dean should have gone out in a way that’s more epic. He’s been there, done that, guys, and remember how miserable it was? Now there’s no cosmic safety net. Dean died in a broken down old barn, saving some kids. Moments like these are when Dean is at his best, at his most fundamentally sympathetic: when he’s not trying to control the shape of the universe or dictate righteousness or let his anger drive himself down into a destructive spiral. He’s just putting his money where his mouth is. He’s not making a broad moral statement. He’s simply putting his life on the line to defend someone who needs defending. It is not an unworthy end. It’s so much better than going out to, god forbid, God.
Did Dean earn a lifetime of peace? The concept of just desserts is fraught. But I also don’t think it’s something Dean wanted. He wanted to keep killing things in tetanus-infested barns until he died. He got what he wanted. And while the arc of his wants has adapted over the years, MOTW hunting is fulfilling for him.
Dean’s deathbed speech was, oh man. It got me good. Like many of the things I loved in this episode, it was quiet. No desperation, no revising history (or not too much, anyway). Just, “stay with me, please. I love you. Tell me it’s okay.”
The quiet of Sam’s grief, alone in the bunker. How still his face is, until for a little bit it crumples again, and then it comes back and goes still. He’s not trying to control his reactions or press back against his sorrow. There is no work to do, nothing to avenge, no one to find, nothing to defeat. He is alone, and the washes of visible grief simply come and go in waves that he doesn’t try to fight or force.
I need the gif of him flinching at the toaster. His startle reactions are my favorite thing. He’s alone underground, there is not a living soul for miles and miles, he’s just buried his brother, not for the first time, but this time, he knows, for the last. And the goddamn toaster goes off and he cannot control the way his heart leaps up into his throat and the way every one of his muscles tightens.
Sam grows old. Sam. Grows old. Sam grows old! SAM GROWS OLD.
Ohhh my God, Sam grows old. Without Dean! Without hunting! Without Cas! With people outside that claustrophobic world, beyond the four tight walls of SPN, beyond the people approved by Dean and by Fandom, who give him peace and love and fulfillment! SAM GOT OUT. Even with the truly terrible wig the image brings me to actual tears. I cannot believe SPN would allow him to have this. I cannot believe that the show let him be happy without Dean. I want to read the set of novelizations about Sam’s recovery.
Of course this was the only way for Sam to get unwound, and of course it had to happen offscreen in flashes. Thank god for the ambiguity. There’s so much potential there, years and years, we were simply told: and at some point Sam’s life gets better, at some point his mental health improves and he feels safe enough to start a family, with someone, and at some point he has a child, and he dies peacefully, he dies loved and with people who love him, and dammit I’m getting weepy again.
Sam quit hunting. Not in a sudden jolt. We see him leaving the bunker on another job. But when he leaves the bunker, he leaves for good. He has so much knowledge, but he does not preserve the Men of Letters. He does not honor their legacy of extermination and experimentation. Maybe he gives someone else the keys, for the books. Or maybe he’s digitized it all, and maybe it’s done.
Maybe his wife is Eileen, or maybe it’s Amelia, or maybe it’s Piper or Cara or maybe it’s someone new. Maybe it’s not even a woman. And maybe she’s a hunter, but I hope she isn’t, and when Sam tells her, haltingly, in fits and starts, the bare outline of the truth, she looks at him and she believes him. And she understands the shape of the trauma he carries, even if Sam can’t quite speak the details, and maybe Sam goes to therapy. Maybe he doesn’t. Maybe he wakes in pain and fear for many years, but over time, it dulls.
Sam’s son is still a young man when Sam is on his deathbed, probably in at least his eighties. Think about the mountain Sam had to climb to reach that point. How many years and years of work did it take before Sam felt safe enough to want a child? How long for him to gently conquer his terror at the legacy his blood might carry: Lucifer and Azazel are dead, he knows this, but how long before he lets himself believe it enough to permit the risk? And then he raises his child, not in fear and loneliness, but with love and support and care. And he makes sure his son is protected, that he knows to salt his thresholds and ward against demons, but his son will not suffer the way he suffered.
Maybe he untangles his thoughts about Dean, maybe he learns that to feel angry with his brother is not to betray him or to dishonor his memory, maybe he comes to a more complex understanding of their relationship. Maybe he doesn’t. Maybe he simply enshrines Dean, and Dean’s memory becomes ever more golden and untarnished, and the Impala becomes truly an altar. The details of how Sam carries Dean with him—the watch, the car, the absurdly large photos, his son’s name—perhaps these are played straight, and perhaps Sam never finds a more nuanced love. In the meta sense I think we are certainly meant to think this. We are meant to see Dean deified here, canonized into a saint. We are meant to view Sam’s fifty more years of life as worship, as a dedication and an offering.
This is the long shadow of the finale. These are the things untouched by necessity and by design: this is Dean’s apology in 15.18, this is Sam not wanting an apology, and not wanting to hear Dean offer one. This difficult work was always and inevitably going to be elided. But there is so much time, decades and decades, offscreen, for Sam to come to a quieter peace.
I think he can do it.
I think Sam can do anything.
I’m crying again.
I really didn’t think I would cry much about the finale. I thought I would cry at the concept of the show ending, but not at what the ending was. I didn’t think any details would actually affect me. But then Sam got old. I am truly and genuinely hung up on the canonical image of Sam finding peace. Good god. He had GLASSES. Help.
My chief complaint (aside from that absolutely awful Carry On cover, why oh why, they should have just played the original again), if I felt at all like complaining at the moment, would be how happy this ending is. But I can’t begrudge Sam that. I can’t even get too mad at the scene that I was SO SURE I would despise: that of Sam and Dean content in a Heaven that is now apparently Great, Actually (even though a prison dimension with an open floor plan is still a prison dimension, but hey, I guess we humans can’t leave earth either). Supernatural clearly wanted Sam and Dean to not be facing down an abyssally bleak afterlife, and I think I’d be complaining about the lack of bleakness a whole lot more if it didn’t have the (perhaps unintended??) side effect of giving Sam even more freedom from Dean than SPN already deigned to give him. Sam isn’t in a shared cell with Dean. He can be with his friends and his wife and his son.
One of the fundamental questions of SPN is, would Dean ever let Sam go? And it’s a question that the bulk of s13-15 has rendered moot with Sam’s growing passivity, and one that 15.20 neatly dodged. And I’m glad it did, because I wouldn’t have liked whatever 15.20 had to say on the matter. This deflection feels true to the spirit of what the show has become.
It was impossible for Sam to find peace while Dean was still alive. And on its own that kind of says everything, doesn’t it? And Sam is still forever denied the peace he truly longed for. Sam didn’t want death to force Dean’s hand. Sam wanted Dean to want to let him go. But the only way Sam and Dean could heal is apart. The potential of their relationship on earth becoming untangled is forever precluded, explictly. And yet Sam’s freedom is validated, Sam is allowed what he sought in season 1 and season 8, Sam is something beyond a hunter and Dean’s brother, and the show let him be, the show let him grow.
Supernatural said Sam Rights, and the world shook.
#spn spoilers#sam and dean#15.20#final thoughts#sam and romance#sam and peace#just leave me here to die#I did not realize how relieved I'd be#I do not believe how much tension has left me#at the realization that I liked this ending#and of COURSE there are so many people complaining about sam's peace#but guess what!!!#this isn't season 8!#this time the show agrees with ME!#SAM HAS riGHTs!
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Remus vs. His Birthday
Long post is long, keep reading isn’t working sorry all!
Warnings: mentions of death, blood, gore, murder, nsfw things; unfriendly Remus (he’s just antagonistic not unsympathetic); Remus being rude about the nsfs tag (not an opinion the author holds).
AO3
***
What exactly was the point, Remus wondered, of a birthday? Was it a celebration of cheating death? A consolation prize for getting through another solar rotation of mundane life? An apology to everyone in your life for existing?
Yeah Remus wasn’t sold. Why would you bother? If it was a celebration why celebrate only once a year, when society told you you could, rather than whenever life was actually worth celebrating? Why not impose yourself on all days, or better yet forget days were a thing at all?
(That last part sounded like Janus when he was on one of his society-is-a-con rants but Remus liked the idea. And the rants. They were pretty fun to listen to.)
Today was, apparently, Remus’ birthday, for all that meant to him. The real issue was that, irritatingly, it meant something to everyone else. And before this year, specifically this year, that would have meant squat. But this damn year it meant plans.
Plans were another thing Remus didn’t see the point of. Why think about future things when you could think about now things and just do them? He was all impulse, by design, and sticking to a plan was incomprehensible and pretty revolting to think about, torture plain and simple for a creature like him.
Remus seethed at the very concept, staring daggers at the envelope that had dropped into his home in the subconscious. Literal daggers, shredding the cheerful mint green paper of it with vicious pleasure, until the daggers were just thudding into the floor underneath and he got distracted playing target practice with various shadows of particularly nasty thoughts that crept through the dark corners down where he lived.
Daggers exhausted and eyes back to normal, he collapsed into the blow up armchair he so adored (mostly because it made brilliant fart-like noises whenever he shifted around) and wondering if plotting went against his moral stance on plans. He felt like plotting. He felt like not celebrating his birthday thank you very much.
Unfortunately the next thing to drop in was much more Thomas-shaped, and it dusted itself off nonchalantly while he considered a return to the dagger-eyes.
“J-anus.”
“Remus. Must we be like that?” Janus asked with his very carefully crafted snobbish distaste. “I come in peace.”
“Wish you’d come in pieces. That would’ve been much more fun,” Remus muttered, and as he blinked at the other side body parts started to drop piece by piece around his intruder. Janus glanced down at the first and hid a delicate shudder, returning his gaze to Remus’ face and steadfastly holding it there. Remus dropped a nose on his shoulder just to spite him. He could appreciate a good pun as well as the next side.
Janus cleared his throat. “We would like to celebrate your birthday. It’s not entirely, ah, a birthday party, per se? But Logan predicts the fans might celebrate for you, and Thomas will naturally be unable not to think of you much. The invitation was more of a heads up.”
“Attention? On moi? I’ll have to dress appropriately. Birthday suit is only right!”
“Remus-”
“What? Don’t approve? It’s not even my birthday, Snake Bell. They’re just something Daddy latched onto to make his dreams of normality come true. Besides, it’s not like anyone wants me front of mind- where worse to have your darkest thoughts after all?”
“That’s not the point.”
“Ah, points. I was thinking about those. I think the more the better-” he grinned, twirling his hand and summoning his morning star into it “-but this has precisely none. I don’t want to celebrate it. No one else wants to celebrate it. Drop it there, or I’ll drop you all one by one off a tall building. Or maybe the plank. Now pirates, there’s a fun aesthetic...”
Clearly the conversation wasn’t going the way Janus wanted because he looked visibly frustrated, pulling his hat off to rake a hand through his hair with a little scowl marring his- well, half of his face. If Remus took a meat-cleaver down the centre of his skull he wouldn’t have matching halves. Ooh, Heathers. Now there was another fun aesthetic. Imagine turning up to the joke of a celebration in a cutesy prep school outfit complete with croquet mallet. Hammer. Thing. Remus wasn’t sure of the name, but it didn’t have any points so meh. Maybe it could be a fun experiment, like the Riverdale Heathers episode, which Remus had only experienced through the triple layer disconnect of Thomas watching it and unwittingly handing it over to Janus to hide down in the subconscious where all the other undesirable memories, experiences and miscellaneous things lived. Like Remus!
But he was losing focus, and Janus was still there. Ugh.
“Just be prepared, alright? It would be highly appreciated if you didn’t just show up and antagonise Thomas on the one day he’s allowing you up front. I know it’s hard but just... ix-nay on the eath-day, ex-say and ore-gay?”
“Ooh, ore-gay, or orgy? Did you mean to say orgy?” Remus grinned sharply and Janus’ remaining composure dribbled away.
He muffled a scream into his gloved hands before glaring once more at Remus. “Just behave. Or I will put you back here, and you will stay here until even the memory of you has faded, understood?”
Remus’ mouth clicked shut and he nodded, eyes narrowed balefully under the scorching threat. “Understood. But next time you feel the need to threaten me with hiding again, maybe don’t do it in my own home, hm?”
“Wha-”
“Bye Felicia.” The sound of Janus’ screech as he was shot upwards by a giant tentacle and shoved back through the ceiling to where he belonged was like music to Remus’ ears. Scream music. Oh, how interesting, what if he took screamo music and put it to actual screams?!
~
It was such a good idea that he forgot about his ‘birthday’ entirely while focused on his project until the next day, when the tugging started. It was gentle at first, just the odd prod, like a big finger was occasionally checking his responses. Like he was a tiny lab rat in a giant world, and boy did that one hit a little too close to home. Home here being allofhisgreatestfearsatonce.
He didn’t want to answer the call, he really didn’t, but... Remus was curious, and impulse won out as always. Because why not go look? Why not go see? Who cared how it turned out- the fun was in the spontaneity, in the doing.
Thomas standing with a faintly amused smile was not what he’d have expected had he expected anything at all. But Thomas standing with a faintly amused smile was what awaited Remus topside, out in the full force of consciousness. It burned, being here, and Remus was reminded once more that in many ways he’d not been imprisoned down below for everyone else’s safety but also his own. Damn the snake for his constant self-preservation. Remus wanted to be mad at him for leaving for once!
“Hi Remus,” Thomas greeted, that same amusement on his tone. And oh, yeah, he’d gone with the Heathers look after all. It was a warm summer day and skirts were nice and breezy, sue him. Remus struck a pose with the croquet... thing, and bared his sharp teeth.
“Did you miss me? Oh you did miss me didn’t you. I can tell! You’re just so curious about me! Well-”
“Settle down,” Logan warned, and oh. Yuck, other sides.
“Yeah why don’t you-” Remus screamed, high pitched and piercing, as his supposed twin’s voice came from right behind him, spinning and swinging and almost catching Roman in the face with the blunt weapon. Only Virgil’s quick reflexes managed to save him, leaping into the way to catch the head of the mallet like a baseball. Now baseball, there was an impulsive and dangerous sport. Why had they never taken up baseball?
Oh that was right...
“Well done Virgil!” Janus smiled. Because the snake said no. And Virgil said no. And when the two of them agreed even Dream Daddy had to comply. Whatever, it was never too late. The croquet mallet turned into a baseball bat as his thoughts flickered, but it was boring and not pointy enough, until he added the nails.
Everyone flinched back slightly, even Thomas, and Remus hefted the weapon onto his shoulder with a proud jut to his chin. Good.
Thomas looked uncertain but he tried again. “Um, that’s cool. Like from the Walking Dead?”
“Just like that! Who volunteers as zombie?!”
“Actually we had something else in mind!” Thomas interjected quickly, turning his phone around to show the screen. “Look, cool art!”
Remus didn’t miss the glance Thomas sent around the other sides for approval, but he was soon distracted by the contents of the screen. He scrolled, and scrolled, and kept scrolling. Huh. This was, actually pretty cool stuff. Plenty of blood, gore, some sexy things. And all not just about him but for him. Interesting.
Also this tumble thing was dreadfully good. He’d have to get one. Endlessly scrolling on a sea of blue was the perfect- aka worst- kind of instant gratification mixed with cybergothic horror that he’d always wanted to explore creatively not that Thomas would let him if he only understood more about it.
Around the room the other sides and Thomas stood, waiting with bated breath to see what might happen. It had been a few minutes of silence, which had Janus’ jaw dropping open and Virgil shifting nervously on his feet. Roman busied himself looking over Remus’ shoulder and trying not to wince at the gross stuff as he appreciated the art himself. Finally it grew too much and Thomas had to know. He had to!
“Is it good? Do you like it? I think there’s a lot of cool stuff there but-”
“Did you know there was an explicit tag specifically for us?” Remus gasped in delight, before frowning. “Jeez, we get our own tag. How prudish are your audience Thomas?”
“And that’s enough of that!” The phone was neatly plucked from Remus’ fingers and tossed over by Roman, shrugging when Remus glared at him. “So what do you think, Remus? They all made that stuff because they wanted to celebrate you. Janus mentioned you don’t like birthdays, but-”
Remus held a hand up to shut him up. “Okay look, it’s not my birthday. But that stuff was pretty cool. Especially the naughty bits. So, uh, thanks I guess. Don’t get used to it but thanks. And now bye! I have zombies to kill. I need to perfect my Hollywood zombie strike for maximum blood spray and noise.” He blew a kiss and vanished in a pop of noxious gas, leaving poor Roman to gag and leap away before it could get on his clothes.
Beneath them (figuratively) in the subconscious, Remus landed on a trampoline that instantly snapped to dump him on the floor with a thump, where he lay, stunned not from the fall but mostly from all the thoughtful and cool tributes to him he’d seen. Maybe birthdays weren’t so bad. Maybe the point was to feel a little proud of yourself and who you were, and where you were in life. He was, maybe not entirely but certainly almost, a real functioning side in Thomas’ mind, not reduced to intrusive thoughts from time to time when the barriers wore thin.
Also he had a nail-bat now. And a whole bunch of new ideas from the art he’d seen to try out too... Where to start?
Well, apparently he had a whole year to figure that out.
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Masterlist | Buymeacoffee
#writepie#ts remus#ts character thomas#ts janus#ts deceit#all sides#ts sanders sides#ts sanders sides fic#sanders sides#sanders sides fanfiction#sanders sides fic#remus sanders#his birthday!#am I late#maybe
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I had the absolute pleasure in participating in the "I Am Here: An All Might Anthology" zine and I'm so excited that I can finally share this! I was selected to write about All Might/Toshinori while he was in America so I took some creative liberties but I think it came out well. I hope you enjoy it!
You can also read this on AO3
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Coming to America was one of the more outlandish things Toshinori Yagi had decided to do, right alongside accepting Nana’s training and obtaining One for All. It wasn’t so much the move itself that was risky, it was the fact that Toshinori had agreed to leave his home because Gran Torino thought he’d be safer in America while he set out to do what Nana had wanted him to do.
“Those who have a smile on their faces are the strongest after all.”
Nana’s words always rang through his head whenever he found himself doubting himself or fear and anger threatened to consume him. Even with her gone she still managed to influence him and make him want to do more. To be better.
To be the symbol of peace.
It wasn’t easy, not by a long-shot, especially in those first few months in America where everything was foreign. But he did it, every day for over two years he’d gotten up, greeted the day with a smile and set out to help those in need. Every action that could help someone in need, he did happily. No task was too mundane or difficult to aid those who needed it.
America was also where he met David Shield. Where he started working with David. Where he may have fallen the slightest bit in love with David.
David Shield, who was constantly looking to create new ways to better society and help those in need. Who always had a kind smile and a soft laugh echoing across his features. David, who enjoyed the quiet moments of sitting in their cramped apartment as much as he enjoyed the action filled chases after villains. Some would no doubt say that he felt drawn to David because they were so alike, but Toshinori knew it was more than that. He liked how they were different, like how David studied sciences and engineering while Toshinori could barely keep up with what David was talking about sometimes.
Perhaps it was more accurate to say he was in love with David Shield.
That love might’ve made their relationship awkward if they were anyone else, but they just accepted it as something that just was. They supported each other in what they did and were there through the toughest times.
Even when they both wished they didn’t have to face them.
It had been a long day, one that Toshinori wished would’ve ended already. There had been a villain attack inside of a strip mall that started fires in the shops. Toshinori and David had arrived at the scene as fast as they could, firefighters already on the scene and working to put out the fires. Toshinori had quickly taken care of the villain before he jumped into the closest building and started getting the civilians stuck inside the buildings out.
There weren’t enough firefighters to put out the fires so it was up to Toshinori to get the people to safety. He carried out armfuls of people all of who thanked him profusely once they were safely out of the burning shops. He gave them his signature smile before continuing his duty. Minutes stretched by and the fires were calming down. Everything was going smoothly, as smoothly as these situations could go.
Until it wasn’t.
Toshinori took a finally look in the last building to make sure that he’d gotten everyone when he saw her. A little girl, tucked half underneath a knocked over rack of clothes. Toshinori felt his heart drop and made his way over as quickly as he could. He delicately moved the clothes off of her and could barely contain the choked cry that threatened to escape.
The girl’s face was mostly spared, aside from the few wisps of burns that trailed up from her neck. The burns themselves weren’t as bad as they could have been, but the smoke most have gotten her. Her face was slack, tear tracks evident through the ash on her skin, her chest unmoving. It didn’t matter how many he’d saved. Because in the end, he’d failed, hadn’t he?
He delicately lifted her, tucking her safely in the crook of his arms and made his way out of the smoldering shop. He didn’t his best to shield the child from view, his focus on making his way to the other victims of the fire. He approached a firefighter who was taking care of the injured and quietly set the girl down on the ground. He pulled his cape off his shoulders and draped it around her, and shared a remorseful look with the firefighter. He didn’t know the man’s name, but in that moment they knew exactly what the other was thinking.
He turned his attention to finding David amongst the crowd, spotting him beside a few teenagers, making sure they were okay and probably trying out one of his newer gizmos. He caught the man’s eyes and tried to put on a smile, but David knew Toshinori and he knew when his smiles weren’t genuine. David tilted his head and looked at him with concern; all Toshinori could do was drop his gaze to the girl on the ground, now being properly handled by the EMTs. Toshinori watched as David’s face shuttered and his shoulders hunched and all he could do was continue to help those who still needed help. Give people water, help apply an oxygen mask to another, wrap a burn per the EMTs instructions.
They hadn’t talked on their way home, the silence settling over them like a shroud that Toshinori wished he could remove with a mighty swing of his fist. They picked at their dinner before retreating to the balcony of their apartment. The slight breeze made the typically humid climate enjoyable and the roar of traffic and night life hummed from below. It was the most peaceful Toshinori had felt since they’d left the scene of the attack.
“Do you ever feel like what you’re doing isn’t enough?” David asked.
Toshinori paused his sip of water and slowly brought it down to the railing. “Not enough?” He asked.
“Like no matter how much time or effort you put in, there’s still so many people you can’t help or you couldn’t save,” Toshinori flinched as Nana’s smile flashed across his vision from that fateful day. “–or villains who got away because you just weren’t fast enough.”
Toshinori’s clenched his fists against his thighs. “More often than you’d expect.” He suddenly felt so tired and all he wanted to do was go back just minutes ago when the two of them were enjoying the companionable silence with the white noise of the city around them. “But…” He didn’t know what to say. There was too much he wanted to say, too many thoughts and actions that fought with each other to get to the forefront of his mind.
“W-what do you do when you start thinking that?” David finally turned to look at him and Toshinori felt his heart clench at the distraught look in David’s eyes. “I can’t stop thinking about it. About the girl who died in the fire. About the family that are still in the hospital from the villain attack just the other day. About the little boy a month back who looked so grateful and happy when we showed up only to pass away before medical assistance got there.” David clenched his eyes shut and shook his head, tears gathering at the edges of his eyes. “What are you supposed to do when it starts eating you alive?”
Toshinori didn’t know what to say to that. Not when he hadn’t figured it out himself. But he couldn’t say nothing, not when David was clearly upset and asking for his help. “You strive to do better.” He tried to give his signature smile, but the way David’s eyebrows pitched told him it didn’t work out that well. “When you can’t help them, when you can’t save them… You keep going.” Toshinori turned back to look at city lights, unable to meet David’s gaze. “You get faster, you learn more, you do better because there’s nothing else you can do. Because stopping isn’t an option. Hesitation isn’t an option. You can’t because that’d mean you could fail to save someone else.”
Like Nana.
Nana’s words echoed through him and he let them tumble out of his mouth. “Those who have a smile on their faces are the strongest after all.” It sounded better when she said it, but he still felt they hit home.
“Smile?” David mumbled, his voice rough from holding back his tears.
“Because that strength gives the people you’re trying to save hope, and sometimes that’s all a hero or anyone can do for them. Give them hope, give them peace even if it’s for the last moments of their life.” Toshinori scrubbed at his eyes brushing away the tears that threatened to fall. “It doesn’t get easier.” He couldn’t lie or tell David anything but the truth. “I don’t think it ever will, but you do your best and keep going.”
“And… that’s enough?”
Maybe. Maybe not. “It has to be.” It has to be. He wondered if he could keep going if he was wrong.
David took a shaky breath and nodded his head, turning his attention to the city lights. “Keep improving and giving your all… I can try.”
Toshinori didn’t say anything else and he doubted David wanted to say anymore on the subject. He reached his hand out and laced his fingers with David’s without a word, giving a soft squeeze to the man’s hand.
No more words were spoken that night and if more tears had fallen in the silence neither said anything. Just a show of silent support with the white noise of the city as their soundtrack.
#All Might#all might fic#davemight#is that their ship name?#david shield#all might zine piece#fanfic#my hero academia fic#bnha#bnha fic#My fic#hurt/comfort#realistic depictions of coming to terms with not being able to save everyone#because I think every hero has to come to terms with this reality
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Male minotaur x female reader (sfw fluff)
Edit which I’m including in all my works after plagiarism and theft has taken place: I do not give my consent for my works to be used, copied, published, or posted anywhere. They are copyrighted and belong to me.
Here’s the second of my recent Patreon-only commissions! They asked for a female reader with PTSD and a big monster who understands, and discussed the nature of the condition with me in detail in the chat. The story isn’t focused on that, but the reader suffers an episode in a busy marketplace, and meets the minotaur because of it. Their relationship develops from there.
Here’s 3700 or so words - I hope you enjoy! Meet Axel! This story also features a cameo from my gorgeous centaur boy, Iskandar from my very first orc boy story with Khuruz!
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“Oh, it’s going to be one of those days,” you hissed as you sat up in bed, sunlight streaming through the curtains, birdsong filling the air from the garden outside, and that lung-clogging anxiety promptly settling into every muscle in your body for no discernible reason whatsoever. Some days were just like this, and as you swallowed down the bile and tried to calm your racing heart, you swung your feet out of bed and sat there with your eyes closed, trying to steady the world and your pounding heartbeat at the same time.
To make matters worse, you knee full well that there was no food in the pantry. Perhaps some dried meat, and possibly a sack of flour, but other than that, it was bare. It had been a few days since you’d even been out of the house other than for work, but unless you wanted to starve, you were going to have to beat this thing today, and venture into the bustling marketplace.
After three rounds of procrastination and one very thorough clean of the whole house, you finally stepped outside, and inhaled deeply. In fact, the weather wasn’t so bad, and the scent of jasmine filled the crisp autumnal air from a garden nearby as you stood on the doorstep, basket over your arm, breathing somewhat more rapidly than was perhaps ideal.
The rumble of the marketplace seeped out into the narrow side streets, their looming houses seeming to close in overhead as you made your way there, grinding your teeth and flinching at even the slightest sounds. A housewife opened her shutters and shook out a cloth into the street and you jumped, turning with eyes wide before you managed to get a hold of yourself.
“Stop it,” you growled under your breath. “Just… stop it. You’re safe now. All that is past you. Just focus on getting food.” Truly, you felt awful. The events that had left you like this were years in the past now, but still you limped on, mind so ragged some days you could barely remember your own name. Of course, there were other days when you were absolutely fine.
Moving from the cool shadows of the three-storey, brick-built merchants’ houses that lined the wide market square, each one with colourful window boxes and red-tiled roofs, you made your way into the heart of the market. You made it to two stalls, picking up a box of eggs, and two loaves of bread, before any hint of your earlier episode showed itself. Your creeping hyper-vigilance had you looking about until you must have looked more than suspicious, but you forced yourself on until you had bought almost everything on your list. You had just congratulated yourself on surviving what was ordinarily a huge challenge, when you heard the rattle of a cart up ahead. Your chin snapped up instinctively, seeking out the source of the noise, but you relaxed marginally when you saw what it was.
Someone was laughing not far away from you at a stall selling fresh pastries and cakes. You glanced over your shoulder and saw a truly massive minotaur leaning on a tall walking staff, chatting to the owner of the stall. He had a thick black coat with little grey tufts at the ends of his large ears, huge horns that curved forwards a little before tilting up to the blue sky above, and his modesty was just about covered by a simple, loose tunic of dark greenish grey cotton. His hooves and fetlocks were caked in drying mud, and you assumed he’d come in from outside the city for the market, and wondered if perhaps he’d brought produce with him to sell. He carried no bags or baskets, just a belt pouch around his waist, and the stout walking stick.
A second later, the crash and clatter of crates hitting the cobbles sent a spike of adrenaline and blind terror through you. You half turned around, knowing it was just the cart of empty boxes that had been upended somehow, but the shaking and the ringing in your ears descended on you a moment later and you forgot everything, even how to breathe. Time stopped and stretched on forever in front of you in an endless corridor as you stood there, hardly seeing the stones of the market square before your wide eyes. It had been like this for years now; any sudden, loud noises, and you were gone.
A colossal shadow slid across you, draining the warmth of the sun and setting your clammy skin prickling. “Hey,” a kind, deep voice rumbled. The figure made no move to touch you, but when he knelt in front of you, you began to be able to focus a little better on the words he was saying. “Hey, you’re alright. Can you hear me?”
You focused on the glittering nose ring, suddenly unable to look away. He smiled then, and you nodded in answer to his question.
“Great, you’re doing great. Listen, I’d like you to do something for me. Catch…?” he said, standing up again and shielding you from the chaos of the clear up behind him with the sheer width and height of his body. He held out a bright green apple and tossed it gently at you.
You caught it on instinct and stared at it.
“Good,” he chuckled. “Now, toss it back.”
You did, and he kept throwing it back to you, asking you after a few more throws to count them aloud.
He watched you sliding gently out of your shock, and he held onto it after thirty or so catches. “You doing better now?” he asked.
You nodded. “Thank you,” you croaked, feeling shaky. “How…?”
He smiled again, such a warm and open gesture that lit up his dark, glimmering eyes and he leaned once again on his staff. “You want the apple?” You shook your head, and he bit into it. “I used to be in the army,” he said simply. “I have ‘bad days’ and ‘oh shit’ moments too, and doing something mundane like that helps to refocus my mind sometimes. I figured I’d give it a go with you too, not that I claim to know what works best for you, of course.”
You had to smile. “Thank you,” you said, trying to draw in a steady breath. “What’s your name?”
“Axel,” he grinned. “You want to get out of here?”
“Please,” you nodded. Normally you’d never have gone with a complete stranger, but perhaps it was your lingering shock or the trembling in your fingers that craved the safety of his kind face and a broad back.
“Fancy a drink? There’s a great place down by the river, and I’m parched. They do the most amazing fresh lemonade you’ve ever tasted, I promise.”
You accepted, and he led you away through the marketplace to the south towards the wide, glimmering river that flowed through the trading town with its stone walls and high castle at the far end. It was a beautiful city, and since coming here you’d had fewer episodes, despite the bustling streets and noise. Though, on reflection, it was probably because of the life and vibrancy of the place that you were doing better. The stillness and silence was all very well for sporadic moments of calm, but it could quickly overwhelm you and leave you crushed and panicky.
You discovered that Axel made an excellent shield, vigilant enough of approaching figures to step easily between you and them and create a clear path for you, but not so on edge that you felt nervous. His massive presence was a steadying support as well; he was just so calm and friendly. He spoke a little about the weather, and you asked him if he’d come from far that day.
He glanced down at you, eyebrow raised. “How’d you know I’m not a city slicker like you?” he chortled.
You smiled back up at him, cricking your neck slightly to get a good look at his strong-boned face. His ears waggled playfully and you had to laugh. “You’re all spattered with mud,” you said, flicking your gaze down to his huge hooves.
His tail swished and he laughed his deep, rich laugh again. “No fooling you. Yes, I live just outside the city walls. It rained pretty heavily last night, and the roads were a mess this morning.”
“What do you do for a living?” you asked. “I’m assuming you’re out now,” you added, referring to his military service.
He nodded. “Yup. I’m a woodcutter these days, working with a few of the others over on Jenson’s farm.” He stretched and rolled his muscular shoulders, the fabric of his sleeveless tunic shifting slightly to indicate a toned chest beneath, and he added, “It’s hard work, but it’s nice, you know? To be doing something physical…”
You hummed in soft agreement, and he nodded at a cafe sign just up ahead.
“That’s it,” he said. “Willa’s a good friend of mine,” he added as he held the door open.
The interior was bathed in late autumn sunlight, streaming through huge windows at the back of the building, and beyond you could see a terrace that overlooked the river. It was stunning. A tiefling sat sipping elegantly from a delicate china teacup, and a gnoll was lounging in a far corner on a very comfortable looking sofa, a book under his nose, and some adorable glasses sliding down his muzzle towards his nose.
Behind the bar was a waif-like faun, chatting quietly with a human and dwarf, all of whom wore the dark green aprons emblazoned with the logo of the cafe. When the faun saw Axel, her pretty, freckled face lit up, and her large ears swivelled forwards as she scampered around the side of the bar and barrelled straight at him. She barely came up to his waist, but she threw her skinny arms around him and hugged him tight.
Something cold lanced through your chest at the sight of their closeness. Perhaps you’d been foolish to hope that he wouldn’t have anyone in his life, but there was no mistaking the affection between these two. And then he pulled back and ruffled her hair in a way that would have irritated at least any partner you could imagine. “Hey there,” he laughed. “How are you?”
“It’s been ages!” she practically squeaked. “Gods, Ax, you are even bigger than you were last time, I swear it!” Then her hazel eyes landed on you and widened in surprise. “Oh,” she added. “Hi…”
“Hi,” you murmured, trying to conjure up a smile.
He introduced you by name and added, “This is Willa. I served with her brother.”
“Oh.” Oh.
“Saved Rudi’s life too,” she smiled. “Anyway, what can I get you both?”
“I was told the lemonade is good here,” you said, trying to lighten your mood and succeeding now that you knew they weren’t together. It felt stupid and selfish. You’d only just met him for goodness’ sake.
As if he sensed your shift in mood, he cocked his head to one side. “Ok?” he asked softly while Willa poured two big glasses of lemonade for you.
You nodded. “Where d’you want to sit?”
“I don’t mind being outside, but it might be a bit chilly for you,” he shrugged a shoulder, his shaggy coat rippling. “I’ll get these,” he added, laying a small handful of coppers down on the counter with a smile at Willa.
“Let’s see how cold it is?” you asked, and you moved through the tables until you reached the double doors at the back of the cafe. He held one open for you and you drank in the freshness of the river air, the breeze that swept down from the Red Mountains upstream, and sighed most of the lingering tension away. “Yeah, outside is good,” you said.
You set the drinks down and he pulled out a chair, squeezing himself into his own with only a little difficulty. He caught you looking and barked laugh. “I’ve got stuck in chairs before, you know?” he said. “And it really isn’t funny…” Such light danced in his eyes that you suddenly couldn't stop the wave of giggles that bubbled up from your chest.
“I’m so sorry,” you said, still grinning.
He only smiled back at you and sipped his lemonade. “If it makes you laugh like that, I don’t mind.”
You chatted for ages while the river rushed by below the stone wall, and it was only as it started to get cold that you realised how long you’d been there. He’d told you almost everything, from adventures with his brothers as a young calf to the sights he’d seen in the army - he was very open about his experiences, though he didn’t dwell on anything difficult or unpleasant - and all the while you sat there with your hands clasped lightly, leaning your weight on your elbows on the table, drinking in his deep baritone and glittering, playful eyes.
As you shivered, however, he scowled and raised his eyes to the sky, his ears darting back in surprise. “Gods,” he swore. “Look how late it’s getting! You must be freezing!” and he reached his hands instinctively to cover your own with his. His palms were smooth and warm and leathery, and as they landed over yours, engulfing them, a thrill shot through your whole body. Ordinarily, a stranger’s touch would have felt nine kinds of nasty, but there was nothing but gentle kindness in his eyes, and you began to ache for the closeness you had come to miss. You turned your hands over and held his fingers in yours.
“I am cold,” you admitted, “But I’ve had the best time today.”
“Me too,” he grinned, nose ring flashing in the sinking sunlight. “Let me walk you home though before I have to find a fire drake to come and thaw you out.”
With another laugh, you rose, and he ushered you politely ahead of him. His large shadow loomed behind you, but again it felt like a shield not a menace, and you basked in the safety of his strength.
You agreed to meet up in a few days’ time at the clearing where he worked, and when you parted at the door of your house, he asked if he could give you a hug. You nodded, and he drew you briefly close to him. You inhaled the scent of him, warm, musky, and comforting, and sighed.
“Thanks for today,” you said as you pulled back afterwards. “I really needed that, and… not just in the market place.”
“Me too,” he said again. “It’s been a long time since I’ve met someone I can just… feel this easy around, you know?”
“Yeah,” you rasped.
“Well, I’ll see you in a few days then,” he grinned, walking away and waving over his shoulder. “Be sure to wear your warm boots - the roads are muddy, you know?”
You snorted, gaze dropping to his colossal hooves, and nodded.
“And dress warmly too…” he said, glancing at the sky. “Don’t want you catching a cold.”
“Don’t worry,” you smiled, and he shook his head.
“I’m sorry. I’ll see you, alright?”
And as he disappeared round the corner, you sensed a deep calm settling into you, beginning in your chest and radiating out through every vein and artery. You’d not felt the like in years.
Three days later, and it was another glorious autumn day. You’d finished work early and headed back to change, and were on the road out of the town well before the sun began to set. Over one arm you carried your basket, but this time it was full of goodies for a picnic supper, and the fizzing in your gut was nothing to do with that nebulous fear that always seemed to be hovering in the background, waiting. This time it was true, undiluted excitement that had your heart skipping along in a merry rhythm.
The steady chorus of axes hitting trees reached your ears as you climbed up the slope towards the copse perhaps a mile or so out of town. A huge piebald centaur with long black and white hair was chatting and laughing with a cervitaur at the edge of the camp, and they looked up as you approached. Your fear of talking to strangers suddenly rushed in to replace the fluttering excitement, and you felt like shrinking back into yourself and running, but the weight of the basket on your arm reminded you why you were here. You could do this.
“Hi,” you croaked. “I’m… I’m looking for Axel?”
“Oh,” the cervitaur smiled. “Sure. You want me to get him for you? He’s just over there…” The toffee-coloured coat of his cervine hind quarters was dusted with specks of wood dust and shavings, and as he pranced away, his little white tail bobbed merrily. The centaur smiled down at you, but didn't offer any conversation, which was fine by you.
About a minute later, the cervitaur reappeared, and behind him was the familiar bulk of the dark-coated minotaur. He looked tired, but the moment he saw you, he grinned and tossed his head, tail swishing. He wore no shirt, only a leather covering from waist to mid-thigh, and he looked magnificent. His chest was a pale, silvery grey, and he exuded the kind of physical strength that made you want to lie down beside him and burrow up against him while he held you in his big arms.
“Thanks, Mikken,” he murmured gently to the cervitaur as you offered your own thanks to him as well. He turned back to you and said, “I would hug you, but I’m all sweaty and gross. Hey -” he added, snuffing the air and staring at the basket. “You brought food?”
“Thought you might be thirsty and hungry after work…” you mumbled shyly.
“She’s a keeper, Ax,” Mikken tossed over his shoulder as he took the centaur’s hand and the pair of them headed off down the hill towards the neighbouring farm.
Axel scratched the back of his head and you watched as his ears flattened themselves in shyness. “Huh,” he huffed self-consciously. “Sorry about that. I may have been talking about you quite a lot today. I was… excited to see you again…I guess. I’m sorry.”
“It’s ok,” you laughed. “I’m flattered, I guess.”
“You want to eat here?” he asked. “Or you could come back to mine? I only live in a little cottage just over the hill that way…” he said. “It’s not much, but it might be warmer than sitting on the ground here…”
You swallowed. There had been so much change lately, but this felt good and right, even if it was a little intimidating.
He must have seen the thought processes on your face because he added swiftly, “No pressure, of course…”
Taking a deep breath, you smiled up at him and looped your arm through his. “I’d love to,” you said, and he puffed a relieved sigh and laughed.
“Give me that,” he said, taking the basket from your other hand and leading you back down the hill towards his house.
It wasn’t far, and on the way he pointed out the various farm buildings visible in the distance. “Mikken and Skandi live over there,” he said as you neared a burbling brook that trickled down a gully in the hillside and into a wooded valley below. “They grow wheat and apples there mostly, but they’ve got some geese and sheep too. I helped them put in a new paddock last spring for the lambs. It’s turned into a bit of a centaur sanctuary too lately. They’ve got two more just moved in.”
“Oh?”
“Mmm,” he said, “They were kept as little more than carriage horses in the capital,” he said darkly. “But Skandi took them under his wing - so to speak. They’re nice lads. And there’s a bunch of half-feral orcs who work there, but they’re a great bunch really.”
“Sounds like it’s a nice community,” you commented, taking his hand as he simply waded through the freezing water of the stream and helped you balance as you walked over the rickety little plank that stretched across it. He steadied you as you hopped down off the end of it, and you squeezed his knuckly fingers in fleeting thanks.
Up ahead, the cedar tiles of a wooden cabin came into view, with a metal chimney poking out of one side, and a number of window boxes displaying late autumn flowers. A bench sat outside the front of the house, sheltered under the large eaves, and at the back a few chickens scratched determinedly in the dust of a little wicker pen.
A dog began to bark, but when Axel bellowed a welcoming call to it, you saw the appropriately huge dog hurtling around the corner of the house, paws scrabbling on the loose surface of the yard, and it made its way at break-neck speed towards the pair of you, big triangle ears flapping wildly, tongue lolling.
“Hey buddy!” he laughed, getting down on one knee to fuss the dog. “How was your day? Who’s a good boy?” The dog leapt and whined, trying to lick Axel’s muzzle and wagging his tail so hard you thought he might just wiggle it right off. “Now, I need you on your best behaviour,” he said to the dog. It was the size of a small pony, and had any number of breeds mixed into its heritage. Black fur, white tummy, little tan dots above its eyes, and one white sock on its hind paw were the most distinctive features, and as Axel asked him to sit, he sank onto his haunches, his tail still trying to wag. “Meet Scrap,” Axel smiled up at you.
“Scrap?” you asked, snorting a laugh as you extended your hand and the dog licked it, whining again in excitement. “He’s hardly what you’d call a scrap… He’s huge!”
“He was just a tiny little scrap when I found him,” he chuckled, levering himself back upright with a grunt. “Come on, let’s get inside.” He picked up a stick from the side of the path and hurled it a good hundred yards, sending the dog flying away in a cloud of dust and yips of excitement.
“You have a habit of picking up strays then, I take it?” you asked him pointedly as you approached the beautiful little cottage.
He glanced down at you and smiled. “No, only the really special ones.”
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The next Patreon commission will be a colossal 9000+ word Fae Prince of the Night Court story, and will be up to view on my Pixies and Goblins tier on early release (as this and the last commission were too) shortly! There’s also a ‘wiki style’ Fae Realm lore post available on my Patreon so you can see the structure of the twelve courts etc.!
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#patreon commission#story commission#minotaur#male minotaur#sfw story#female reader#male monster#ptsd#character with ptsd#centaur#exophilia#patreon#ghosti's patreon
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The Ridge
May 23rd 2020
For centuries The Ridge has been a sanctuary to lost people and things. Those whose worlds rejected them, cast them out with nothing to bind them to the soil of their home realm. Those who turned their back on the lives gifted to them by the universe, who sought more than the mundane existence that their homes offered.
The one responsible for the sanctity of this place between places was Olinir Telemnar. Regent to the Elves who first settled in The Ridge. He welcomed the Angels and Demons as they fled the destruction of their home world and brokered peace in the town.
Shortly after, wanderers began to arrive from all corners of existence. Each of them were welcomed and found a life and place better than that which they left. As more refugees arrived, it became clear that for the sake of everyone’s safety and sanity the residents of The Ridge would have to adapt to a more human-oriented way of living. With the help of human residents, the knowledge of the Elves and The Ridge’s own tendency to model itself after the human world, it was a feat easily achieved.
New humans were allowed to induce themselves into town life as they pleased and newcomers of other races were welcomed by their own kind and instructed in the ways of subtlety. Now, only the oldest of residents are aware of one and other, whilst the rest live among friends and strangers of unknown nature.
With only a letter to his sister left behind, Olinir Telemnar has now disappeared. No trace, no reason, no instruction to those closest to him or the people of The Ridge. The man responsible for maintaining peace and civility between the faction leaders has vanished and the seat at the head of the table now beckons who lust for power.
Word has spread of the leaders disappearance, down through the hierarchy of the factions and to the few common folk who know of The Ridge’s precarious state of peace. Those not privy to the towns multiracial nature hear whispers of the name and now get the uneasy sense that something is not right. The winds have changed and the air is thick with tension. Something threatens to ruin the homes that so many have come to cherish and even those who don’t realise it, are gearing up for the fight.
[The above plot drop is to provide some clarity to the plot page and circumstances hinted in several bios and lore pages. We trust that most players will be able to deduce the specific circumstance and reaction of their characters. However, if any of you have questions, feel free to ask. Once we have enough players and the roleplay opens, we will release a post providing prompts for each of you as a starting point and opening task.]
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In Memoriam 5
Summary: The metal tree had always fascinated the Prince.
Only, it wasn’t a tree.
And, as it turned out, he wasn’t really a Prince. Instead he was… a side of someone’s personality? He doesn’t remember Thomas, or the other sides, those who call themselves his friends. He doesn’t really remember anything, not even his own name, no matter the efforts of Patton, Logan or Virgil. He must venture back into the Wardrobe door, back to the metal tree in an attempt to recover his missing memories and regain everything he has lost.
But perhaps some doors are best left closed for a reason. And perhaps some personas should remain in the ground where they have been buried.
Story Warnings: Sympathetic/Grey Deceit Sanders. He is trying his best you guys. Anxiety. Self doubt and self loathing. Fantasy fighting. Verbal fighting. Threatening behaviour. Blood and injury. Memory loss. Drowning. Near death.
Previous || Next
Night fell over the snowfields. Virgil had never been able to get a grasp on the way time worked within the Imagination. It operated on its own timetable, independent of what might be happening in the real world or even inside Thomas’ mind which followed the earth day and night cycle. Inside the Imagination, Virgil swore it just did as it pleased. Or rather, it did as Roman pleased.
No wonder Logan hated coming here. Night could last as little as five minutes or as long as a week depending on the dramatic need for it and no two cycles were the same exact length. It drove the logical side to distraction.
Virgil could understand that. He wasn’t too keen on it either, on the way things didn’t make sense and he liked it when things made sense. It was better when they followed a pattern he could keep to because with a pattern came familiarity and with that came safety, came reassurance. Knowing it could be day or night as it pleased was not a situation likely to calm his constantly frayed nerves. It had been evening in the mindscape when they entered and yet daytime here. Virgil had no idea how long they had been travelling before the sun started to set, turning ice white into the colder blues of night.
It caused the air to become that much colder, each exhaled breath of air curling around them like dragon smoke, creating patterns of pale white that danced in front of them. It grew steadily darker and darker with only the stars twinkling overhead offering any sort of light and making it hard for Virgil to even see that smoke and reassuring sign of life from the rest of the group.
There was no point in trying to press ahead in darkness when they could barely see anything. Virgil and Roman used what fading light was left to gather wood as best they could and haphazardly built up a fire. The anxious side was fairly confident that if Roman focused enough he would be able to create a fire from nothing, including the flames themselves and that would save them a lot of effort.
Then again, he was equally confident that if Roman got distracted even for a moment that he would accidentally set the whole forest ablaze and so it was probably safer to build it by hand. It gave them both something to do, something physical that kept them busy and calmed Virgil’s nerves a fraction. Just a fraction of course, but then that was normally all that he could hope for.
The repetitive motion of collecting wood and building up a fire was almost soothing in its own right, letting Virgil think of what had happened and what they were going to do next.
Except, neither really knew where to go or what to do next. Virgil had a vague idea of trying to find some of the pivotal locations in the story, in the hope that there might be some answers there because that was how stories worked but it was nothing more than a guess. A hope without any kind of actual foundation was a precarious thing indeed and Virgil didn’t trust something without stable support. Try as he might to remain positive, thoughts turned increasingly towards the negative end of the spectrum, as they were bound to do.
He couldn’t shake the feeling that they were travelling without any true destination or purpose in mind, just drawn along by a vague, ill defined hope. Another thing that was not going to keep him relaxed, no matter how hard he tried to focus on the simple pleasures of seeing the wood build up ever higher or the small burst of satisfaction when a spark finally caught alight. It kept Virgil from spiralling into a full blown panic attack about everything.
Soon they settled around the fire, drawing comfort from its heat. Without really knowing how, Virgil found himself telling Roman tales about their past, about some of the more amusing things that they had all done.
“I didn’t!” Roman sounded scandalised, his mouth dropping open in shock and for a moment Virgil was struck by the mental image of the Pikachu meme, a smile twitching on his lips at the thought.
Same energy.
Except it would be pointless to point that out, to laugh with Roman about it because Roman probably had no idea what Pokemon even was and would just stare blankly if Virgil tried to explain that he looked like a little yellow electric mouse. He wouldn’t laugh or be offended or come back with some clever retort of his own because he had no idea how to do any of those anymore.
It was more than just memories connected to his own life, connected to Thomas, he had forgotten almost everything about the world in general. There didn’t seem to be a rhyme or reason to the things he did remember - he knew Bree’s name, he knew what a horse was but not what a heffalump was. Not who Virgil was and as much as Virgil tried not to let that bother him, there was still that selfish part of him that felt hurt by it.
Roman was still staring at him like a Pikachu, waiting for an answer.
Okay, so, Virgil couldn’t point out the similarity, but he could still tease him, could still answer him and tell him more tales about the past. He could still focus on what mattered, which was the conversation itself.
“You did,” Virgil assured him, a warm smile, a soft little giggle slipping out as he remembered watching the video from inside Thomas’ mind. Virgil had known what they were doing even though he hadn’t been called for it, because as he had stated before, he was listening. Always listening. Just in case they took it too far and Virgil had to step in to look after them all.
If it had been a year or so earlier, he probably would have thrown a fit about it, imagining what the fans might think about such a silly video topic. He would have kicked and screamed in a misguided effort to protect Thomas from harmless fun because he had been too wrapped up in his own worries to be able to look at it from any other point of view. It was impossible for him to imagine any other outcome bar the worse because he spent so many years on high alert, so many years dismissed by the others and so forced to scream just to be heard over the others, no matter the topic.
Them accepting him had meant it was possible for him to relax. Not all the way of course, not all the time. But just the simple fact of knowing that they were willing to listen to him meant he could breathe for what felt like the first time in years. Just knowing that they were willing to listen to him if it was something important meant that Virgil no longer felt the need to scream at the top of his lungs about everything.
He had learnt, had grown and tried to be better. He trusted Roman and Logan not to take it to that kind of extreme and as a result, he managed to enjoy watching the three of them relax and grow closer - even if Roman slipped into being insecure yet again. Virgil couldn’t help but wonder if they could do better now, if this loss of memories could be considered a second chance and that they could make sure to build Roman up so he didn’t have such thoughts.
That wasn't how he should be thinking about this.
Roman shook his head in disbelief, blissfully unaware of the thoughts that were circling around in Virgil’s mind, unaware of the dark currents that lapped at this conversation, hungry and eager to ruin everything.
“You’re telling me I love Crofters so much I made a whole song up about it? And that Logan - Logan - actually joined in singing? I can’t picture Logan doing anything... as light as that. He doesn’t seem like the sort to sing.”
“Never underestimate Logan’s love for Crofters. Or yours...” Virgil could feel his mood start to tip further slightly, his words reminding him of just how much Roman loved Crofters and what it had cost him. If it hadn’t been for his near obsession with that particular jelly brand or his desire to be recognised, to be loved more, because he couldn’t see how loved he already was, then they wouldn’t be camped out in the middle of nowhere without his memories.
They would have received another mundane evening at home that Virgil treasured because of how few he actually gotten to experience over the years. They might have watched movies as a group or just hung out for a little while together before going their separate ways. They would certainly have had Family Night recently, and Virgil would have laughed in one night more than he had laughed in ten years growing up. They could have been doing all of that instead of this.
No, Virgil couldn’t focus on that, couldn’t allow himself to think like that. Not when they were finally having a good time and he was feeling relaxed somehow, almost loose, as though the events of the past few days had drained him completely but not necessarily in a bad way. He was only one wrong word or thought away from being caught in a trap and spiraling down into a bad place.
A worse place than normal because Roman wouldn’t know what was happening. What if Virgil did or said something he didn’t mean while caught in the grip of anxiety? It didn’t excuse whatever terrible thing he might say but Roman didn’t know he was Anxiety, that he was prone to leaping to the worst conclusions without getting all the facts right. He didn’t want to say something he would regret. And he didn’t want Roman to forgive him for something he might say simply because he thought he was supposed to, because he felt he ought to without any knowledge of what Virgil was really like.
Then again, he was always only one wrong word or thought away from that, so really it wasn’t the worst mood he had ever been in. And he was feeling a lot better as a default state of mind than he had before.
Virgil stared across the flames at Roman, watching as sparks flew up into the sky, little flashes of gold and red which flickered against the darkness and made the whole scene feel so much more alive. It was hard, in moments like this, to remember that they were inside Thomas’ imagination, that they weren’t real boys just having a real camping trip. Virgil could almost buy into the illusion that they were just two friends hanging out, that there was no quest, nothing important beyond just spending time together. Maybe they were just family out in the wilds, around a campfire.
Maybe this night wasn’t so bad. Maybe he was actually having fun.
“What about some tales from when we were kids?” Roman asked eagerly, leaning forward as though afraid he might miss the answer to his question.
Virgil felt himself tense a little, that blissful feeling of relaxation vanishing under the weight of those words, no matter how hard he reminded himself that Roman had no idea of what he was really asking. Right now, he would have given almost anything to rewind time a few moments, to go back to when he was balanced on the edge of a worry but not yet fallen in. Now he was mentally falling hard, the ground coming up to meet him and if Virgil wasn’t careful he would ruin everything.
“You want... to hear a story from when we were younger?” Virgil slowly asked, hoping against hope that Roman might change his mind.
“Yeah!” Roman nodded enthusiastically, smile bright and open and far too naive for the question he was asking. His words opened up the dark corners of Virgil’s mind once more, the areas that he tried so hard to deny existed. Virgil wanted to be Protection for Roman, he wanted to be something good.
He wanted to act as though he belonged here and mean it. There had to be some story Virgil could think of, something he could share with Roman and they hadn’t fought every second of every day. Sometimes they had even come close to getting on with each other and more than once they even worked together. Admittedly those times were mostly because they were acting in opposition to something Logan or Patton wanted and Virgil had been able to convince Roman it wasn’t a noble plan or whatever. Once he even got Roman to help with the promise they could then spend that time watching Disney and learning the songs off by heart. That was far less risky than the late night lecture Logan had wanted to go to alone which finished at gone midnight and no way beyond walking to get home.
Of course, he couldn’t actually think of a single example now he was put on the spot, but Virgil knew there had been some good times. There had to be some good times. Beyond the time they conspired to deny Logan because Virgil didn’t think that really painted either of them in a good light, for all that he had done it to protect Thomas. It was almost a blessing that Roman couldn’t remember the expression on Logan’s face when he had lost, the utter crushed look before he turned and retreated to his bedroom, locking them out.
He didn’t say a word to either of them for days and when he finally been convinced to speak to Roman, it was as if he had blanked those days from his memory. Virgil tried once to bring it up, to explain his reasoning to Logan because back then he nurtured the faint hope that he and Logic might have been able to get on, that Logic at least might understand where Anxiety was coming from. Logan cut him dead and changed the subject with one icy look and a handful of words.
Virgil hadn’t tried to make friends with him for years after that, not until Logan admitted that he didn’t mind his company. Only then had Virgil dared to try again, cautiously reaching out to try and forge some kind of relationship with the logical side.
They never talked about that day. Perhaps they should have done because Virgil had always been left with the impression that both blamed him and him alone for that night and the damage it had done to their relationships. It hadn’t escaped his notice that Roman acted differently around him after that, as though worried about the influence that Anxiety had been able to inflict on him, worried about the control he seemed to have when he wanted.
Or else worried that maybe Anxiety wasn’t the clear cut villain he always believed him to be and that perhaps he should re-examine his own thinking but that would imply that he had been wrong and they couldn’t have that.
Virgil didn’t blame Roman for the past. At least, not really. He could see why Roman acted the way in which he did, a perspective granted with distance. He knew he tried to act in a scary fashion on purpose, he knew that while they might have painted him the villain, Virgil had willingly embraced the role as the only way he knew how to help. He tried to scare them all the time on purpose. He was to blame for how they grew up, just as much as Roman and the others had been. More so perhaps, because he had never been happy with where he was. He had never been content but always yearning for that added space, that thing always out of reach.
He had that now, he was a member of the family and the circle he always stared at and imagined being a part of had expanded to include him with almost no effort at all. Sometimes, he can allow himself to forget that it had ever been any other way.
Sometimes it still hurt of course, moments like this when memories of the more unpleasant past were dragged to the surface but on the whole, Virgil learned to live with it. They all apologised in their own way, and they were all trying to be better. He had forgiven them and Virgil meant it, but he couldn’t always quite convince his heart to not feel the hurt from the wounds. Virgil didn’t want to hurt anymore, not tonight at least, when the focus is meant to be on protecting Roman and making sure he was feeling good.
Except Virgil still couldn’t think of a single example to keep Roman happy.
“Don’t sit too close to the fire, you might burn yourself,” Virgil warned after a moment, changing the subject as Roman shifted, moving ever so slightly closer. Probably not near enough to actually burn himself or worse, catch fire, but all it would take would be one little spurt of flame getting too close for something terrible to happen. Virgil wasn’t going to let anything happen to the prince.
Roman tilted his head to the side, fringe falling across his face a little. It cast shadows where before there had been none, his expression thoughtful as he watched him. It made Virgil want to fidget slightly but he forced himself to remain still, to meet his gaze steadily and not reveal how uncomfortable he was feeling.
“Caution,” Roman announced after a short pause, one finger tapping against his chin. “You’re Thomas’ Caution right?”
“No,” Virgil replied, his smile sad. Another guess, another one that was still so good. Virgil had done nothing but scream and yell, moan and warn Roman about everything and anything. He had pointed out every single flaw, had insulted him for falling for a trick that had apparently been designed specifically to trick him, and still Roman didn’t hate him. All Virgil had done was nag him about something, judge him about something else and yet Roman seemed able to look past that and to get something good out of it.
Virgil didn’t understand it at all, but it was nice to pretend, even if only for a split second and within his own head, that he might be one of those guesses.
“Oh well. Next time.” Roman seemed more resigned about being wrong than upset, giving a little shrug before lying back on one of the blankets he had conjured up. His head was cushioned by his arms as he stared up at the sky, his previous question apparently forgotten. Virgil couldn’t help but breathe a soft sigh of relief at that and the minefield they managed to avoid for the moment. He debated lying down himself, trying to get some rest before the sun rose again but even as he considered it, Virgil knew his own anxieties would never allow him to rest.
Could they both afford to sleep though? Who knew what manner of foul beast might slither its way into camp during the night while they had their guard down and attack them. There was no way to know how long the night would last either and so they couldn’t split it evenly. Perhaps he could wake Roman after a few hours and get him to keep watch. That sounded like the best plan, because it gave Roman chance to rest and he got to work out some of his worries by watching over him.
“Do you think I will ever remember?” Roman’s voice was soft, almost lost amongst the flickering and crackling of the fire as it burnt its way through the wood. He was still staring up at the sky when Virgil looked over, lips pushed together into a little pout. Perhaps it was the distance, or the smoke that wanted to get in his eyes and blur his vision, but for a moment he would have sworn that Roman’s eyes were glassy, filled with unshed tears that spoke of a pain that his voice was able to hide.
Virgil wanted to say yes. He so badly wanted to say of course he would, that this adventure would result in the desired outcome. He wanted to remind him that Patton and Logan were still working on trying to come up with a solution. If nothing else, Virgil knew that they would never stop working on it until they had come up with some kind of answer, some way to fix this and he should point that out. The more rational part of him knew that while they might never give up, it was completely possible that they would be forced to put it on the back burner so to speak, for the lost memories to gradually become something they worked on between projects.
Thomas needed them. As much as it pained Virgil to think otherwise, he knew that none of them were as important as their host. He loved Thomas so much to do anything that would put him as second place. They all loved Thomas more than anything else and if he needed to work on a video or a project that would take up almost all of their time, they would do it. Even Roman would do it in this state Virgil felt, and he wished now that they had reintroduced him to their host so he understood just how wonderful Thomas was.
But they would still keep trying. And there might be something here they could use to help him. Maybe they would find the White Wizard and it would turn out the guy wasn't some super villain and would simply give them the cure without any further fighting. Maybe it would just wear off and for all they knew, Roman could wake up tomorrow and have his memories restored completely. Doubtful but it wasn’t completely impossible. He had no idea how the magic in this place worked and what rules it followed.
Virgil couldn’t really say any of that though. He couldn’t bring himself to lie and being optimistic to the point of wilful blindness was lying. There was no way to be sure of anything and although he hoped they would find an answer, they hadn’t had any luck so far. Who was to say that they would tomorrow? Or ever?
“And a truckload of bubba gump shrimp,” Virgil sang softly in lieu of answering one way or another. If nothing else, when - or if - Roman regained his memories, he would have the pleasure of knowing that Virgil had sung that line willingly. It was the least he could do and it was far easier to sing the line here, with only Roman for company than have to sing it not only in front of Thomas and the others but on camera where thousands of people could watch him mess up.
Roman gave a short, bark like laugh, pushing himself up on his elbows to look over at Virgil. His expression was open and amused. There was no sense of Roman hiding his feelings away, not like he had done in the past when he had tried to hide his hurting heart or his insecurities. He seemed more trusting here and it made Virgil’s heart hurt, made it ache in a completely different way. This was who Roman had originally been, before the world had tried to destroy him.
“What was that?”
“A line from a song you came up with for me to sing... even if you don’t remember Ro, it won’t be the end of the world. You’re still you and there is a lot you can learn again. I mean we will try, of course we will and we will never stop... but you’re still you, even without them. You’re still the prince. You’re still our family and we all still... care.” The word love got stuck in his throat, Virgil swallowing a few times as though he could push down that throat and clear the obstruction from his throat.
He might love all of them so much but Virgil was nowhere near ready to actually verbalise that thought out loud. It scared him sometimes, how easily he had grown to love all of them, how for years he had adored them without once expecting to get anything back. Certainly not the outpouring of love that he was given, the easy way in which all of them, including Thomas, including Roman, had let him into their hearts. He just wasn’t ready to tell them how much that meant to him and how he returned those feelings a thousandfold.
It was an understood thing and that was about as far as Virgil was willing to take it.
“And there are the videos too I guess!” Roman was trying to appear upbeat about the possibility of remaining like this, searching for something positive.
“Yeah... the videos...” Virgil couldn’t help but trail off as he thought of them, and how they would give Roman a real window into the different dynamics across the whole mindscape. They would show how all of them had grown over the few years since Thomas had started making them which was good... but it also meant that he would see what Virgil was really like. Which was bad.
If there was a chance that Roman might not remember then he was going to go into those videos blind. He might not like what he saw. After all, Virgil had been trying to scare them at first. Virgil had been a terrible side, a terrible person in some of those earlier videos and he shuddered to think what Roman might think when he saw Virgil deliberately trying to scare them, bringing up bad memories, bad thoughts on purpose.
It was who he had been at the time and Virgil couldn’t shy away from that fact. He wouldn’t shy away from it, but at the same time, he didn’t know if he was strong enough to handle Roman looking at him with fear, hate or distrust again. Not after he had gotten greedy and used to the easy affection offered to him. Going back into the cold would be too much of a shock to his system and Virgil knew he wasn’t brave enough to be able to deal with that.
“You know... I didn’t... I didn’t really grow up with the rest of you. I mean, I wasn’t as close to the rest of you.” Words were hesitantly said, Virgil feeling as though he was stumbling along and having to relearn every single word as he said them. He swallowed nervously, a faint tick in his jaw as he tried to find the right words to say his thoughts, to somehow explain everything they had been and everything they now were.
“I mean... I had a different childhood. It’s why I don’t really have any stories I could tell you, you’d have to ask Patton or Logan for those and the videos... well...”
Virgil had his own sort of not quite there family when he was younger. Well, he had one person at least, the only person that ever acted as though he had cared about a young Anxiety, who had looked out for him, had helped him get through some of the worst days of his young life. He often helped Virgil practise his lines, his arguments before letting him rise up to face the others on his own, the other favouring a more shadowy approach. He had never seen the point of arguing in person when they would simply dismiss and belittle him. Far easier, he always maintained, to just sneak around in secret and do what had to be done. The ends, to him, would always justify the means.
Virgil had never liked doing that, which had created one of the first cracks within their relationship, a pressure point that over time would just keep building and building until the eruption had been inescapable and terrible.
It was... complicated. Virgil had never known how to be part of a family growing up and although his would be brother had tried his best, it was clear that the other side had no idea how to act like a family member either.
They had just been two idiots fumbling along in the dark and trying to do their best for each other. Well, Virgil had thought he had been trying to do his best for... for Deceit, had thought they were a team, that they worked together, looked out for each other above almost everything else - aside from Thomas himself of course. It had been a shock to learn that Deceit apparently didn't feel the same.
Even saying his name in his head felt odd, stilted and unnatural. He hadn't allowed himself to even think his name for years before the snake skinned side snuck his way into a video. For many of those years Virgil had simply done his best to pretend that the other side didn’t exist, that they had never been as close with the King of Lies as he had been.
It made it hard at times, after he had made his choice and was surrounded by people who seemed to hate him, when all he could do was lie alone in his cold bed and pretend that there was no other way and that he didn’t miss the warm hugs and whispered honeyed lies which would grant a degree of comfort in the moment. Virgil couldn’t go back though, it would mean admitting he was giving up and turning his back on the Light Sides because he knew he couldn’t keep shifting from side to side. Virgil had to draw on his stubbornness, on his refusal to be moved and just stick it out because he had nowhere else to go.
It was easier to avoid a conflict of loyalties when he denied one set of loyalties existed after all.
Once upon a time they had been close, close enough to give each other nicknames, to call each other big and little brother. Once, Virgil would have laughed at the idea that he might want to spend time with Creativity over Deceit. Once, he would have gone running to him when he had suffered a nightmare or panic attack.
Until they had fought, of course, until Virgil had let his pitiful - at the time - desire to be part of the Light Sides world overwhelm his proper and right desire to stay in the dark with Deceit. Who made it very clear that he had no intention of trying to ally himself with the Light Sides, even if it was for the good of Thomas and how could he think that?
Hiding only made things worse and he couldn’t help Thomas the way that Thomas needed to be helped if they kept cloaking their intentions behind shadows and word play. They wanted to keep Thomas safe and Virgil would do anything to achieve that goal, even things he hated. It was worth taking a deal with people they didn’t like for Thomas’ sake. Virgil knew he was lucky in that they eventually grew to like him and even on his worst days he was able to comfort himself with the thought that they tolerated him at least.
It could have so easily gone the other way after all and very nearly did when he had felt it all too much and had chosen to duck out rather than crawl back to the Dark Sides.
Even now, he wasn’t really sure how he felt about Deceit, a strange churning of conflicting emotions that tore at his psyche, pulling him this way and that. Lying had always made him feel sick, had set his own anxieties off, which had made their friendship a strange thing even from the start. Somehow it had worked though, and for so many years it had been good, had been the cornerstone of Virgil’s life.
Until the fight. Until Deceit screamed exactly what he felt about Virgil, exactly how much he hated him and how pathetic he actually considered Anxiety. Just thinking about that fight made the breath catch painfully in his throat, made him want to cry and he didn’t cry. He wasn’t the sort to cry, at least not in front of other people. He wouldn’t show that kind of weakness.
Virgil looked down for a moment, finding the zipper on his sleeve, awkwardly playing with it. There was far too much going on in his head for Virgil to actually say any of it and he needed a lot longer than one night to explain to Roman their whole past, both his and Deceit’s and then his and Roman’s. He couldn’t even think about how to start explaining everything that led up to the first video Virgil appeared in and why he had acted the way he had done.
There was no excuse for his behaviour and Virgil wouldn’t seek to create one. Just an explanation but even that felt tied up with so much weight behind it, so much that he didn’t know where to start. Virgil exhaled, feeling the air against his teeth as he did so.
“If... when you watch them, just... just remember that’s not who I am anymore, okay?”
“You make it sound as though you were a villain or something,” Roman complained. There was an odd expression on Roman's face as he said those words, Virgil feeling a fluttering of panic in his chest, a brief terror that maybe he had remembered something. Maybe he hated him again.
It didn't seem like a bad expression though, but more of a questioning one, as though Roman was on the cusp of remembering something and that... that really didn’t help with Virgil’s anxiety but perhaps he could handle being on the edge of remembering. That meant that there was still a chance for Virgil to create a better impression, to convince Roman not to hate him.
“Try and get some sleep okay Roman? It will probably be another long day tomorrow. I’ll wake you in a couple of hours.”
Virgil pulled his knees up tight against his chest, staring deep into the heart of the fire as Roman sighed in turn, muttering some agreement before lying back down again.
Tomorrow would be another day and he would face that challenge when it dawned.
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This Stupid Little Thing Called Life pt.3
Summary: 6 teenagers got kidnapped while on a trip across Europe. The reader finds out that it’s not just a usual kidnapping. That the world is not what she thought it was. The mundane girl got swept into the world S.H.I.E.L.D and H.Y.D.R.A.
Word Counts: 3271
Warnings: nothing yet.
Pairing: Eventual Steve Rogers x Reader, Bucky Barnes x Reader, OC x Reader, Avengers x platonic!Reader
if you wanna be tagged on the next part or have a request please message me here.
Previous part here
Light.
It’s really bright.
Soft cotton.
Cold.
“Sir she’s waking up.” I heard a female voice next to me.
When I opened my eyes and took in my surroundings, I realized that this was not H.Y.D.R.A. Their facility wouldn’t be this nice, and a man with an eye patch walked in.
I remembered.
Vincent. Blood. Knife.
Glass Box. Gamma-Ray.
“Good Morning Miss Y/L/N.” He took a seat next to me.
“Who are you?” I asked him.
“Nick Fury, I’m with SHIELD. And that is Goose.” He shifted his gaze towards an orange cat that was sitting on the edge of the bed. “A cat really?” I thought to myself.
“What do you want with me?”
“I’ve seen your file. Taken at 17, experimented, escaped, and your body counts are high for a 21-year-old.”
“You here to arrest me?” I cut him off. He just smiled. “Execute me? Get on with it then, I don’t need the last meal or shit.”
“I’m not here for that. You that eager to die?” He asked.
“For all I know you’ll be no different from HYDRA. Vincent’s dead. All my friends are dead. I doubt that my parents are still looking or even would consider taking me back after all the shit I’ve done. HYDRA’ll never stop hunting me. So what else can I live for.”
“This.” He handed me a file paper. I reached to take the file but he took it back. “Before you get your hands on this I need to ask you a few questions.”
Some guy in a suit came inside the room and hook me with some cables to a machine. At first, I was hesitant but what else do I have to lose.
“Your name is Y/F/N Y/N Y/L/N. Correct?”
“Yes.”
“Where were you born?”
“Y/C”
“Why did you do those ‘mission’ of yours?”
“I thought they’ll take me to the doctor that did all this to me, and I can finish it off and live my life as a free woman.”
“Do you believe that freedom must be sacrificed for safety?”
“No.”
“If you were given a chance to do good with your ability, will you do it?”
“Good for who? An organization? Individual?”
“Good for humanity.”
“Yes.” He looked over at the man next to him, he was signaling something to Nick. He smiled and handed me the file.
The Avenger Initiative.
“Welcome to the team!” A man that I recognize as Tony Stark walked in. “She said yes right?”
I must be on heavy medication right now. If you asked me a week ago if I would ever say yes to this team, my answer will be no. But right now, I have nothing. Vincent’s gone, at least if I joined I could use their resources to find Dr. Gruirera.
Vincent
The thought of him makes my heart aches. He’s gone and there’s nothing I can do to bring him back. Streams of tears escaped my eyes, I’m torn. On one side I was devastated that I lost him. But on the other side, I feel relieved. And I felt guilty that I felt that. The only explanation for what I’m feeling right now is that Vincent is too far gone. Even if we managed to find Gruirera, I don’t think he’ll stop. His bloodlust has consumed him. He changed. He is not the man I love anymore. He was someone else.
Looking at the tears from my eyes Tony said, “Did I say something wrong?”
Goose purred and crawled into my lap, trying to comfort me.
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I spent the next few months in and out of the lab with Tony and training, trying to gain their trust. I lived in Tony’s Miami home. I’ve grown very close to Pepper, she’s like a mother to me. I had a few episodes throughout my time in Miami, the first one was when one of the scientists from SHIELD triggered my memory of the facility. It happened after just a few weeks being with Tony.
“You are gonna be the strongest asset here, our only hope against-” he said.
My mind went on a frenzy, I felt this pit on my stomach and my lungs felt like it was collapsing. I heard multiple muffled distressed voice and the heartbeat monitor going crazy. The room was spinning and I can’t think straight. I felt the bed under me started to shake.
“Y/N!” I heard someone shouting my name.
“No sir, don’t come in there!” One of the scientists called out.
“Y/N!” He was trying to get my attention. I looked up and saw Tony walking over towards me. He reached out to touch my hand, he was shaking. “Can you feel my hand? Focus on it. Feel the bed underneath you? Deep breaths... You’re safe. Where are you?” He asked me while still holding my hand.
“Answer me... Where are you?” he asked me again. This time it broke me out.
“Miami,” I whispered softly.
The shaking stopped, “You are kid, you’re safe. No one can hurt you here.” he exhaled.
Afterward, I realized that Tony wasn’t shaking with fears; it was the ground. I caused an earthquake, thankfully it was only in the mansion. The whole room was trashed a scalpel wedged itself inside the wall. “I did that?” I thought to myself.
Tony, despite the flying scalpel and earthquake that I caused still decided to, came inside the room and help me. It was the exact opposite of the image of Tony that was portrayed in the media. He was selfless.
In September Tony decided that me, him and Pepper will be living in an apartment that he bought in New York so that he can keep a close look on the self-sustaining tower that he was building.
The apartment was spacious, Tony being Tony everything is extravagant. I spent my time as Pepper’s personal security, she told me that she didn’t really like the security that she didn’t really know so I offered my help. I can be her security and a friend at the same time. It was also a practice for me and it can make them trust me even more. Overall Pepper didn’t really attract danger, except for that one time when a drunk man in a bar tried to touch her. He ended up with a broken arm and 3 broken ribs. I admit that I went a little too far on that one. I’m getting bored with my routines. Nothing exciting really happens, it was a stark difference from my life a few months ago where I have ‘jobs’ every day. I was getting bored until October 7th.
We were having dinner, that I cooked. I was extremely proud of myself. It was kind of like my way of saying thank you to Pepper and Tony for taking me in. Pepper was enjoying her Risotto that I made, “This is amazing Y/N!” Tony, on the other hand, looks like he was having a mental battle and was constipated at the same time. “Tony? You okay?” Pepper asked him.
He looked like he was thinking hard for a second, “They found Captain America.” He blurted out.
“His corpse?” I said.
“Not really a corpse,” he paused for a second. “I shouldn’t be telling you this but, what the hell. He’s alive.”
“WHAT!?!?!” Pepper and I said at the same time.
“How the hell did he survive that? It’s been what 70 years?” Pepper put down her fork to focus on the conversation.
“Well, my best guess is that the ice reaches the temperature like a cryogenic tube. And of course the serum.” he theorizes.
I don’t really know much about Captain America or Steve Rogers, all I know is that he was injected with a serum and became the world first ever super soldier.
“It must be hard for him to wake up after 70 years in a very different time,” Pepper said.
“He’s still unconscious, but I’m going there first thing in the morning. You wanna come with?” He asked both of us.
“As much as I would love to meet the man out of time, I have to fly out to San Fransisco tomorrow to take care of some business deals. Y/N can come with you.” she offered.
“No, I’m supposed to be your security.”
“It’s alright hun, I have a whole team with me. And you will be protecting Tony.” She smiled.
“It is settled then. Tomorrow at 10 o’clock; don’t be late, kid.” he smiled and continue eating his Risotto.
The next morning, I woke up at 8 and got ready. When Tony and I arrived there. they escorted us towards the viewing room. They decided to put him in a fake recovery room with a lot of retro techs.
“What? Are they gonna lie to him about what year it is?” I asked Fury.
“It’s best to break it to him slowly.”
All they do is watch him, his vitals, brain activity, and other stuff that I didn’t understand. I was getting bored so I decided to get lunch. I told Tony that I’m leaving to get some food. When I got back it was already 4 pm, well I did wander around for a bit. When I got inside the building I texted Tony. Suddenly there was a booming sound over the speaker, about code something. I looked around, everyone was panicking. I tried to call Tony when I was hit by what felt like a brick wall from behind me and I face planted on the floor.
“I’m really sorry ma’am.” I heard a voice and someone tugging me up.
It was golden boy. Steve Rogers.
Before I got the chance to collect myself he ran away. I just stood there frozen for a minute until Tony grabbed my hand. “Where were you?”
“Ca-”
“Yeah, he freaked out a bit.”
Tony told me to go back on my own since he had some business to deal with, in the car I decided to call Pepper. “PEPPER! OMG YOU WON’T BELIEVE WHAT HAPPENED TO ME.”
“What?”
“I get to talk to Captain America before Tony did.”
“He’s awake?”
“Yeah...but he kinda freaked out and ran out of the building. He knocked down walls and me in the process.”
“You?”
“Accidentally, he’s su-Wait pep hold on.” I noticed that there was a black SUV behind us, it has been following us since we got out of the building,
“Happy did Tony sent another security car? The black SUV behind us-”
“Wait what black SUV?” Pepper said on the phone, she started to sound worried.
“I don’t think so..” Happy replied, “Your seatbelts on?” he asked.
“Yeah..” and with that, he sped off trying to lose the SUV. But now it becomes clear that it was following us. My adrenalin was spiking and I can feel another panic attack coming, the car started to shake uncontrollably while moving in high speed. “Miss you need to calm down! Your gonna kill us if you lose control.”
“Y/N Listen to me, breath... Deep breath alright. I’m calling Tony right now. Everything is gonna be alright.” It wasn’t working. Happy finally lose them after a couple of turns.
A couple minute later we arrived at the apartment. Backups already there, with Tony. I ran into him and hug him with all my might. Tony helped me got inside the building, but my power is still surging. Tony stopped and made me look at him. “Feel this, This is my hand on your back alright. Listen to my heartbeat. Focus on it, you’re safe. I promised you that they will never get you again, do you trust me?”
“I do.” Tears kept falling off of my eyes.
It took me a few minutes to fully calm down, “Are we good to enter an elevator now?”
“Yeah” I chuckled.
That night the security in the apartment got tighter, Tony doubled up the men and the tech. And we also got visitors from SHIELD,
“Agent Coulson.” Tony greeted him.
“Director Fury wanted me to take her to the retreat, it became obvious that HYDRA is still after her. And with all that is happening SHIELD can’t protect and ensure the safety here.”
“I can handle it if they got me, I’m not helpless alright?”
“Not yours.” They’re scared that I’d lose it again. Ever since Vincent’s gone my control over my power is well problematic, to say the least.
Happy walked out of my room with two suitcases in his hand, did he already knew about this? “Did you know about this?” I turned to look at Tony.
“Kid..this is for your own good.”
“Please...Do- Who even is at the retreat, I can’t. Please hel-”
“You think I like this kid? all I know is that I can’t protect you, but they can. So I need to let you go.”
“Trust them, kid. They’re gonna take care of you,” he added. I hug him and proceeded to follow Coulson to the car.
“It’s a secret facility of SHIELD. So you’ll be safe.” Coulson lead me inside a plane. A quinjet.
After a couple hours, the plane touch down. When I got out I was shocked. I was expecting something like a military sort of bunker, but what’s waiting for me was a cozy cabin on a lakefront.
“You like it?” Coulson asked.
“Well, it’s cozy. How many others are on this ‘retreat’?” Coulson helped me with my suitcase and lead me to the front door. “Just one.” he knocked on the door three times and someone opened the door.
“Good Morning Cap.” Coulson greets him.
“Agent Coulson,” he turned to me, “Ma’am.”
“Please don’t call me Ma’am, I’m not old. I’m Y/N.” I smiled and held my hand out.
“I know. I’ve read your files.” he shook my hand and smiled. Damn, that smile will be the death of me. There’s no denying that Steven Grant Rogers is hot.
“Well, come in.” he stepped aside to let us in.
“Right, I’m not gonna hover for too long, I believe that everything you need Y/N is already in place and um, cap do you mind?” Coulson politely asked Steve to leave so that he can have a conversation with me. He walked outside.
“Y/N, You’re here for two reasons. The obvious one is for your safety, but this is also your first official mission. Help him adjust to the new world.”
“So my first job in S.H.I.E.L.D is a tour guide?”
“You both will stay here until further notice. Director Fury expects a daily mission report,” Coulson gave me a bracelet with a heart pendant. “What’s this for?” I admire the bracelet.
“Since there will be no internet or phones here you will need to send those mission report the old fashion way. Fax machine.” he smiled and continued, “Use the pendant on the vase outside.”
“Got it.” Coulson was getting ready to leave when something dawned on me. “NO INTERNET? HOW AM I SUPPOSED TO GET HIM USED TO THE WORLD?”
“Start on little things Y/N. And we will give you more.”
Coulson left right away, saying he has some more business to attend to. I’m not gonna lie, I was kind of freaking out a bit. I mean can anyone blame me, that man is a walking sex and righteousness. The first couple of days, we don’t really talk much. Except for the conversation about what’s for dinner or lunch. On day 5 I decided to have a conversation other than just what food we’re eating.
“So...How you’ve been holding up?” I asked him out of the blue while we’re eating breakfast.
“Well... I’m more or less okay. Yes, the world has changed but some of it is for the better, like this food. We used to boil everything.”
I decided to push it a little bit, “It must be weird huh. one day your friends and family are there and the next they are either 90 years old or gone. Any girl waiting back home?”
He smiled and looked down on his half-eaten food. “Well I don’t think she’s waiting for me anymore.”
“I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to push it.”
“What about you? Anyone before all this?” he straightened his back on the chair he was sitting. Damn. I mean my parents are still looking for me, even my other friends. I felt like an asshole, to be honest. it’s true that I could never contact my parents while on the run; for their safety. But after Shield found me, I should’ve told them. But what am I going to say? Hey so this secret evil organization kidnapped me and experimented on me, and I also kill 2 of my best friend and after that, I escaped and become a mercenary and assassins while going on a murder spree. Yeah.
“My family and friends. Last time I checked they’re still out looking for me. After all these years.” I looked down. Guilt and embarrassment surging inside of me. “I mean the mundane and most possible outcome of this is that I’m already dead. It’s been what almost 3 years at this point? Why bother?”
Steve sighed, “They care about you, and I know what you’re feeling. You feel like an asshole for not contacting them, but if you do they’ll become a target.”
“Should I ask Coulson to make a fake body that contains my DNA?” I said half-jokingly to lighten the situation. Steve chuckled and we continued with our dinner.
“Damn, it would be great to have a tv right now, I could show you everything you need to know about the 21st century. Strictly entertainment though, no work stuff.” I took our finished plate to the sink. “Maybe HYDRA won’t kill me but boredom will.”
“Let me, you’ve cooked us. Let me do the dishes.” Steve said while taking the plates that was on my hand.
“Sure.”
After dinner I was planning to write the daily report for Fury, it was nothing fun really. Nothing out of the ordinary. I was on my way to the pen and paper that I use for the reports, it was hidden away inside one of the fake fashion books on the top shelf in the living room. While I was reaching up, I heard the water stopped and a huff. “I think the sink is broken,” Steve shouted from inside the kitchen. He walked out of the kitchen with soapy hands towards the bathroom. A couple seconds later I heard another huff from the bathroom. “ I think our water system might have a problem,” he shouted. Out of the corner of my eyes, I saw a figure standing near the lake. That couldn’t be Coulson, he didn’t send a signal or anything telling us that he would be coming tonight. The water system could only be accessed from the outside. I could bet your ass that our water problem has something to do with this man outside.
“I’ll check-”
“No! I- I’ll do it. Your hands are soapy anyway.”
I opened the door and the figure on the lakefront disappear. What the fuck is going on? The air felt really heavy, I walked over to the machine and examined it. Somebody has cut one of the cables. I looked around trying to find the man in the darkness that was surrounding the retreat; my only light source is from my glowing hands, considering that the machine was located on the backside of the cabin that had no window.
“How you doing?” I heard a voice behind me.
I gasped.
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Campaign resources: Torotuga, the pirate den
After three days of sailing, land finally came into view. A large island, with a small fortified city on one end, cut off from the rest of the island by steep mountains and dense jungles. To my dismay, however, the captain curved away from that crest of civilization, turning the ship in a large arc towards the back of the island, where nothing but dense forests and swamp greeted us.
“Hoist the flag” the captain shouted, and one of the crew came out with a piece of black cloth, which he unfurled to show a white painted, rather crude depiction of a turtle. With that, a hush fell over the deck and the ship veered into a large mangrove forest, a maze of brakkish water, low fog and bleached trees.
I swear I saw movement in those trees. Little flickers of light, be they lanterns or will o’ wisps, and the occasional glint of steel. It was clear to everyone traveling with me, that we were being watched. (from ‘The Sea-Faring Adventures of Milton Hornswaddle’)
Torotuga is your prototypical Pirate’s Den. It lies on the swampy half of Rhea Island, in the middle of a heavily contested region in the ocean. The island itself ‘belongs’ to the sea-faring and conquering nation of Pardoba, and it holds an outpost in the form of the military fort town of Santa Gasso. However, most of it is densely forested and if not unexplored, then at the least uncontrollable, blocked off as it is from the fort by a sheer mountain range and dense jungles.
It is here, deep in a mangrove maze called the Forest of Skeleton Fingers, that you can find the bustling city of Torotuga.
The ship continued on through these treacherous waters, narrowly avoiding collisions with trees and rocks, until we finally reached what I had feared all along, a dead end.
It was then that the captain came out and marched up to the bow.
“Oy! Open the facking gate, ya crusty cumstain!”
To my wonderment, I heard a voice coming from the nearby trees.
“State your name and business, cuntwaddle”
“Marston ya old pissdog, you know damn well who I am.”
There was a moment of silence, and I held my breath at such signs of incivility, praying for the gods to save me from the arrows that were sure to befall us, when the ship’s captain sighed.
“I am Captain Orsric Graverobber Bones, of the Drunken Elephant. Me and my crew kindly request entry,” he said, in a tone that suggested ennui to a point i would not be able to muster. “Good enough for ya, ya vomit covered sea slug?”
And with a creaking sound, a wall that had appeared to only be dead trees blocking our path, was lifted, revealing a hitherto unseen waterway further into the forest.
(from ‘The Sea-Faring Adventures of Milton Hornswaddle’)
A Safe Harbor
The town of Torotuga holds about 500 semi-permanent residents, a number that can be boosted up to 2.000 by visitors.
The populace holds a few notorious criminals that have settled down far away from the law, as well as travelers and actual colonists that have stuck around. About a third of the permanent residency, however, consists of escaped slaves, either native to neighboring islands or brought here from far-off places to work on the plantations and farms of Pardoba and a few other nations.
Trade
It is clear almost immediately to any somewhat intelligent adventurer, that the economy of Torotuga is mostly illicid, and largely circular. This is a trade hub and stock-up place for privateers and pirates, though adventuring parties, specialized traders and even certain military groups (of the underground variety) also frequent the place.
The largest trade here is ‘entertainment’. The economy of Torotuga consists for about 60 percent out of brothels and bars. Coming off a boat in the bustling harbor part of the town means weaving your way through runners and trade deals, to be met by a veritable row of… very friendly people. Men and women beckon you, wearing bright clothes, some quite revealing, and made up with red lips and dark eyes.
Another large trade here are pawn shops or, if they try to be fancy, ‘antiques stores’. On the outskirts of the town you’ll find fishermen and a few farming communities, eking out a living on the edges of the jungle.
Architecture and craft
Torotuga gets most of its supplies from passing ships, and it shows. Most of its buildings are made out of scavenged wood and smelted or otherwise repurposed parts. Newer buildings use a mixture of ancient techniques, such as woven vines, and parts made out of metal or imported bricks.
Everything about this town has a distinct improvisational feel. The furniture and decorations are either made out of barrels, stolen off of ships or built new, with themes that remind you of the cultures native to the islands here. The whole town is a mishmash of styles, techniques and bits and bobs. True master craftsmen, however, are few in number.
There are a few carpenters, mostly specialized in boats. Apart from that you can find some relatively skilled weavers, leather workers and woodworkers, as well as smiths. Any mastercraft weaponry or armor found here is probably found or plundered, though.
It is, however, important to know that you can find Anything here, if you search hard enough. The people of Torotuga are good at finding ways, certainly if there’s coin in it. If you let them know you need a seamstress, for instance, they will absolutely find someone, even if it is the cook’s old nan, to do your thing for a pretty price.
Safety
Torotuga runs on ‘pirate’s honor’, which is to say, controlled anarchy. The place does not have a single point of authority, but instead had several factions who look out for their own. Some of the most feared of these are the Whores Patrol, a group of vigilantes that see to it that the prostitutes of the island can do their jobs safely. The artisans also have a neighbourhood watch of sorts, which is Extremely Protective of its members and most shops and bars will employ a very ostentatious group of guards.
Since there is no justice system, those caught committing a crime against someone in Torotuga will need to appeal to one of the factions or lose their hand and/or life.
Food
Torotuga has a mixture of different cuisines from the islands, mixed with the kind of stuff the pirates would know from home, in so far as this can be found.
The different inns and bars serve mostly beer, but will whip you up some soup or bread and cheese, or grilled meat, when asked.
Notable delicacies can be found in The Temple Bar, which serves a special stew, made of rice, wheat, sharp spices and seafood. There’s a bunch of not particularly identifiable stuff in there, but it’s very tasty.
From food stalls, you can buy a simple type of taco, made of flatbread folded around a mixture of meat or poulty, mixed with random vegetables and spices. Most of the best and cheapest food can be procured from the smaller sellers, such as The Baked Potato and Kulita’s.
Notable shops
The largest pawn shop in town is The Hoard, run by a steel dragonborn, Dimitri Helfdal and his mate, a sapphire dragonborn named Irin. This shop stands in the very center of town and has carved stone walls, seemingly built out of the ruins of some ancient structure that stood here before. It is a fairly large building, with a stone and wood front and a large shop sign bearing a carved wooden dragon head, apparently an old masthead.
Inside is a quite literal hoard. Dimitri and Irin tend to get the pick of any treasure troves that come to Torotuga, so you can find the best and most expensive stuff here.
Sulejman Sirk runs the apothecary, the Glass Shoal. It’s meticulously clean and organized, seemingly made out of the hull of a downed ship that was outfitted with a brick and windowed front and plated with iron shales. The centerpiece in this store is a large chandelier, a mobile of glasswork fish surrounding a steel brazier that lights up the place. He has your basic health potions and a Very Expensive set of water breathing things (like, super overpriced, guys). Also stocks an impressive amount of poisons.
Davy Jones Locker is a thrift shop of sorts. The proprietor, Antanen ‘David’ Jonesin, is a halfling that collects the mundane and the useful. The interior of this classic brickwork building is made with a number of treasure chests that have been stacked and arranged along the floor and on tables and sideboards. These things are not what typical pirates care for, but he does good business because they do tend to be things sailors Need. His store has stuff like barrels of rope, caltrops, a few smoke bombs found on drowned assassins. He has oil skin bags to keep books and letters safe from the water, sealing wax, forgery and climbing kits, a few block and tackles, fire stones, that sort of thing. Nothing magical, nothing glamorous, but exactly the kind of thing you need to survive.
The Silt Reader is a very small book shop that specializes in literature and poetry. Mostly second hand, a lot of them waterlogged. This store is owned by a half-elven woman, Runa Pavalur, who keeps it very organized, with tomes neatly stacked on shelves and arranged by category. Each book has been outfitted with a bookmark made of thin rope, with a little card attached to it that gives a short summary of what the book is about.
Most of the books in The Silt Reader are travel diaries and novels, a fair amount of those of a ‘popular’ variety. This is why, apart from categories like Studies, Travel, Political etc, the shop has shelves named things like the Rose section (hetero romance), the Heather section (mlm romance), the Calla section (wlw romance) and the Orchid section (straight up porn).
For maps, it is best to go is the Crow’s Nest Cartographer. This is a very small house that has one entire wall made up of shelves holding a large amount of rolled maps. It is owned by two gnomish brothers: Illilniss and Omulnis. They will also pay for coordinates of places that have been discovered, or were hitherto unknown.
Lavar’s Smelter: Lavar is a fire genasi, who isn’t too crafty, but is very good at, well, smelting. He’s the one that melts down all the anchors and random steel and iron that is hauled here, something that should not be possible with a smithy as small as his. Is smithy doubles as a blacksmith for basic tools. When asked, he can shoe a horse and provide stables overnight.
Shell and Shield: The only somewhat skilled smith in town. The Shell and Shield is owned by a tortle named Perrahar, whose main trade is tools. She sells non-magic weapons and some simple armor as well but mostly she’s very interested in learning new things. Bring her some new metal that she’s never seen before and she’ll happily craft new things out of it.
Other establishments
There is a church, The Temple Bar, dedicated to Dionysus, the god of wine. It’s not clear if this is a sanctioned church or not. Mostly it appears to be one of the largest bars in Torotuga. Its purveyor is a dwarf and beer connoisseur named Mazzoum Hornmail. The interior is decorated with fake grape vines and filled with assorted furniture. This one is fairly fancy, with a little orchestra playing, and a dance floor. The rooms upstairs can be rented by the hour. The bigger ones are outfitted as meeting rooms, serving the purpose of neutral ground for pirates to strike deals or talk strategy. The smaller ones tend to just have a bed and a washing tub.
Despite the name, The Baked Potato does not sell potatoes. It does sell yams and sweet potatoes, stuffed with a variety of fillings and baked in an oven.
Kulita’s sells a lot of fried things, including fried fish and fried chicken, combined with dumplings, corn bread and pickled vegetables or stewed beans
The local bath house is called the White Whale. It rents out large, round tubs in private rooms to interested parties. These are pretty nice and use, important, ground water, so any visitor can finally get all that salt out. Rooms are outfitted with scented oils and soaps and come with one complimentary towel. The rooms are priced fairly reasonably, but the rate goes up quite a bit if you opt for one of the companions or masseuses that are offered.
The Sickly Shrew: A Very Seedy bar and one of the cheaper establishments to acquire a room for the night. Also a great place to find, like, a specialist to kill someone for you.
The Foghorn Inn: The most boring and basic of inns that Torotuga has to offer, if you’re into that kinda thing.
Assorted locations
Thaba’s Hut
Take the road out of town, past the farm fields that have been planted here, and into the swamp. Follow the set of foot bridges and walkways, till you reach an island, a clearing in the dense foliage.
Standing here is an ancient looking hut, built on stilts. It has a thatched roof and a porch, with stairs leading up. The railing of the porch and the stairs looks solid from afar, but upon closer inspection, they are laden with offerings of a sort. Little dolls hang from string tied to the wood, shells, glass vials, trinkets and shiny objects, all tied to the outside of this house.
In front of the hut, a small crackling fire burns in a fire pit, tended to by a tall, broad-shouldered man. This is Thaba’s hut, and if you are in need of special magical services, this is where you go.
You pay Thaba for entry, and for the privilege to see the wisewoman inside.
Should you enter, you’ll find that the entire place is overstuffed with jars and more dolls and trinkets. A bunch of objects, too, are suspended from the ceiling, much like they were wrapped around the railings. Some tools hanging from twine off a crossbeam, glass and brass pitchers, something that you very much hope is a wig. There’s dried herbs, ham, but also bones, something that looks like a dead snake. There’s… a lot.
The hut is where Iyabo, sitting in the middle of the floor in a magic circle, performs magical services. Most likely this will be along the lines of identifying items, removing or placing curses etc.
Nahin’s fighting pit
Walking around town, you may hear a number of shouts and just general noise, originating to a dirt square just on the outskirts. Here, you’ll find a small mound of dirt that serves as a brawling ring.
Two figures are squaring off here. One is an apparent halfling in monk clothes, fairly lean build, the other, on this day, is a goliath, a large, looming tank of a man, in somewhat soiled sailor’s clothing.
They’ve drawn quite the crowd. On one end you see what seems to be the rest of the goliath’s crew, a number of sailors jeering and egging him on. On the side of the smaller figure are also supporters of a kind, albeit a bit more demure. You see a number of humanoids, all in fairly ratty clothing, most of them dark skinned and weathered looking. They’ll occasionally clap but they’re mostly looking.
Bets are being made by the crowd, with bookies walking around trying to get any visitors to have a little go. But as soon as the fight starts, a heavy groan goes through the crowd and it becomes apparent just how skewed this match-up is. Within the first second, the goliath has already been kicked in the face. The smaller figure jumps up onto his chest, kicks him in the chin and backflips off, down to the ground. The goliath swings and the smaller figure leans back easily to avoid it, jumping up over a second swing, before turning in mid air and swiping at the shoulder, following that up with two swift kicks.
This goes on for a little while, before the goliath says ‘You little shit’, and he pulls out a crossbow.
The crowd starts booing. You hear the people behind the smaller figure yell ‘unarmed only!’ but the fighter themselves holds up their hand.
“Learn’, they say, and sinks into a defensive stance.
The goliath shoots once, twice, point blank, and you watch as the smaller fighter plucks both out of the air before they reach. As the goliath starts reloading, angry now, the other fighter moves. They jump up onto the crossbow and run up their opponent’s arm, before leaning down and kicking the goliath in the sternum.
The giant goes rigid, for a moment, their eyes at this point confused and fearful, as the other fighter jumps down, dashes around and swipes at a spot right behind the knee.
The goliath.
Topples.
The crowd erupts in shouts and you can see a well dressed man, apparently the goliath’s captain, walk up to the smaller figure and hand them a pouch.
“Sorry about that,” he says. “Temper, that one. But you won fair and square.”
The smaller figure bows and returns to their friends, as the crew, with some trouble, pull up the goliath and the crowd slowly disperses.
Kobinahin, or Nahin for short, is a higher level monk that fights for coin and has a little outdoor dojo going. Nahin is always itching to learn new tricks and will gladly match or teach adventurers.
Characters
Merchants and assorted service people
Thaba: A tall, broad-shouldered dark-skinned man, clean shaven and wearing modest but well-kept clothes. He has milky white eyes and a deep voice. He serves as a guardian or manager of sorts to Iyabo. He can usually be found sitting in front of the fire pit by his house.
Iyabo: This wise woman is a multiclass druid – bard with some wizard thrown in there. She is a tiny woman, potentially gnomish in nature, but it’s hard to tell. Her hair is quite a bit longer than her body, a mass of tiny braids, embellished with rope, ribbons, glass beads and brass rings that obscures her shape almost completely. From what you can tell, the hair may have been dark in color once, but it’s been painted with clay. Individual strands are red, ochre, green or a chalky white, the whole thing giving the impression of a gloomy, if colorful, bead curtain. The hair makes it almost impossible to see her face, but when her arms emerge from the curtain, her skin appears to be greyish blue, mostly because that, too, is rubbed with some kind of dust. Her hands are studded with different rings, her wrists covered in bracers and rows of bangles.
Iyabo jingles when she walks, and you can discern the rustle of fabric, as well as the sound of many, many necklaces or chains clinking together. She doesn’t so much talk as whisper harshly , also with vague southern accent.
Dimitri Helfdal: A man of smallish stature, stocky and broad, with medium gray skin. Mid forties and fairly jovial, incredibly curious about new treasures and things. He wears a monocle and light linen, embroidered pants, with a sleeveless shirt. Dark grey scales line his shoulders, hands and head, glinting with a brushed steel look that makes him seem , in a weird way, armored. He does not have a tail.
Irin: A dragonborn woman of dark olive skin, fairly tall and with a long tail that whips back and forth between the folds of her long skirt. She wears a beautiful silk tunic, with cropped pants lines in copper thread and a long skirt consisting of four almost see-through loose panels. On her head, and down her back and tail are long crystalline dark blue spikes and the scales that adorn her skin are strangely see through, giving the impression of dark blue gems. It also seems like she has filed some of them to resemble jewelry, the ones around her throat and down her chest looking like a very elaborate necklace.
Sulejman Sirk: A black man in his late thirties, with corn rows tied into his hair, and a cropped full beard. He tends to smile widely and has a prominent gold tooth. He has several gold earrings in one ear and wears a dark grey v-neck kaftan of sorts, with embroidery on the shoulders.
Runa Pavalur: A red haired half-elven woman, fairly young looking, very pale with freckles. Basic hippie attitude, she wears what appear to be several crocheted tablecloths stitched together, and her hair falls down her back in two long braids. Speaks in a gentle, slow tone and has very obviously read every single book in the store.
Illilniss and Omulnis: Gnome brothers, both with heavy mustaches, kindof tanned skin and an almost inky blue hair. They finish each others sentences and then get grumpy about it.
Antanen ‘David’ Jonesin: An elderly halfling with salt-and-peper hair that poofs up around his head like a cotton ball. Wears tiny round glasses and looks rather clerical, but very businessy attitude. His voice is clear and fast, like an american radio dj.
Mazzoum Hornmail: A very serious dwarven man who looks jovial and fat and jolly. He gets quite stern when people don’t treat him with the right amount of respect. It is said Mazzoum has spent years sailing the oceans, and kinda just settled down here because he got tired of the floor moving.
Kobinahin: A dark skinned halfling monk of indeterminate gender. Dark, golden ochre skin, long black hair usually tied in a ponytail. Fairly elegant features. They wear a dark grey jumpsuit with cropped pants and sleeves tied with cloth strips. It is cinched in at the waist with a large strip of cloth. Kobinahin fights for coin and essentially teaches the prostitutes and the escaped slaves self-defense. It’s not clear why they left home to travel the world and fight. (the reason is this DM needed to introduce the Monk class). Speaks in serious, shortish sentences. Very no-nonsense.
Lavar: A fire genasi with tanned skin and flame red hair who serves as a smith. A practical sort who, despite his fiery nature, doesn’t really get upset easily. Always looking for find new ways to make coin.
Perrahar: A seemingly young tortle, though her shield is quite damaged with little black spots. Very curious in nature but extremely chill in attitude. Speaks Very Slowly and pretty damn deadpan. Very little gets to her.
Back-up NPC’s
Loughlin Nic Cadhla: An older woman, lots of scars, with frizzy brown curls in almost an afro, and pale freckles skin. Hard of hearing, from standing next to cannons most of her life. Retired pirate.
Tran Phu Nguyen: A forty-something man who is immaculately dressed and must have been utterly gorgeous when younger, still quite handsome. Ex-prostitute.
Hamisi: A slender, dark skinned man, bald with a short beard. He’s missing an eye and has some horrific scarring, mostly on his wrists that you can see. Missing two fingers on his left hand. Wearing a loose shirt and simple cropped pants, no shoes.
#oh look another one#i like world building ok#don't judge me#campaign resources#dnd#dungeons and dragons#dm stuff
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Damages 2.1 - Council of Future Plotpoints
Damages huh. To what or to who? Probably to everyone, to the balance itself. If Blake is to continue being the protagonist, he has to get some yet to be seen advantage over everyone else. Which no one expects. Which will probably fuck everyone up. Cant wait, lets go.
> The pen scribbled across the paper.
>
> Weapons. A knife, a larger weapon if I could manage it. A gun would be ideal but hard to find. Different Others had different drawbacks and weaknesses. Ideally I’d be able to pick up an assortment of weapons in a variety of materials. The problem was, I wasn’t sure where I could get those things.
>
> That raised several more questions. I needed a better way to get information. Internet. I needed a way to buy supplies, if my cash reserve ran out. Money.
>
> I switched to another piece of paper, this one headed with the word ‘Needs’. Beneath clothes and a brief shopping list of food staples that would last me a while, I added the two new points about internet access and needing to contact the lawyers. I hesitated, then added other points. Joel’s car and keys, which I had borrowed, needed to be returned, if they weren’t already. Rose needed assistance. I needed allies.
>
> The council meeting was this afternoon. Three hours before sunset and three hours after, I would be free from interference. I needed a way to get some control over this situation. Enemies at the gates, I’d phrased it.
Man, its freaking today. Here I thought he still had more time. Yeah he cant be harmed, but this has been building up and itll probably be an opportunity for everyone to throw around their threats. Very smart to think of buying the mundane stuff in the meantime.
Makes me think, how does a practitioner meeting in the market generally goes?
> I tried to write down everything I could possibly need or need to do. Stumped, stalled, I put the pen down and stood from the couch, stretching my back where I’d been hunched over the coffee table.
>
> The mirror beside me was empty. My reflection was absent, as was Rose’s. I saw only a living room where the books weren’t quite so scattered, where the shelves were full and no cardboard boxes sat beneath. There wasn’t a pile of dishes in the corner where I’d left them on my side of things. Oatmeal, again. If I didn’t manage a good shopping run, I’d be moving on to wild rice and cans of black beans.
Quick question. Do americans and canadians get black beans that arent canned? Like the ones you actually boil and make the beans yourself? I never hear of it. Me and over half the brazillian population eat rice and beans that way everyday in every major meal, but I have yet to see in any american or english media any of you ever actually boiling bean seeds and preparing them to, you know, actually add flavor and stuff with your own condiments and spices.
> The house felt a little more claustrophobic than it had, before. As large as the house was, it was old fashioned with a very closed concept, every room separated from other rooms by walls and doors. Were it the furniture and furniture alone, I wouldn’t have a problem. But Molly had made a long series of messes in packing up grandmother’s things, leaving the job half done, and her things were still here, untouched. Navigating between furniture and over the boxes and piles of books made me constantly aware of the space around me.
I can definitely see how that doesnt exactly make you paranoid, but rather self conscious about how paranoid you must look.
> When I had some time, I could do some tidying up. For the time being, though, I had too much to do. I settled for a breather.
>
> I stood in the window, my back against the windowframe, helping to hold the curtains and sheers out of the way.
>
> With my newly acquired second sight, I could make out the spirits that infused everything. Just as I might focus my eyes, I could focus this sight. I could train it. According to Essentials, some practitioners would train their sight to focus on things better suited to their talents. Imagery would take hold.
>
> Spirits were the most basic and oldest option when it came to manipulating the physical world through the esoteric. One object as simple as a pencil could have a host of spirits inside it, representations of the purposes the object had, its nature, its elemental makeup, ownership, and many, many other qualities.
>
> Shamans, then, were practitioners who worked more or less exclusively with spirits. They would be able to find and interact with more powerful spirits. Not simply the spirit of one particular stone, but the spirit of all stones for an area.
>
> I was thinking along those lines because I couldn’t help but wonder if what I saw was one of those shamans at work.
So shamans are more of controllers of the elements in a way. But also of their surroundings as in the objects around them.
> A boiling cloud of what might have been vapor, a haze, sat over the city. It was as though stormclouds were rolling in, and they were doing it at ground level. At times there was a fluidity to it, as though the nearby lake had swelled and swamped the area, waves rising and falling, only periodically allowing buildings to be seen, where they dipped low enough.
>
> This wasn’t water or water vapor. It was spirits.
>
> I shut off the sight.
>
> The scene I saw without magical aid was an ordinary one, a simple snowfall, with clouds in the proper places. My view of the buildings was still limited, periodically obscured, but only by snow.
>
> There were things outside, as there had been last night. Daylight wasn’t safety. It only meant that the Others without human forms had to stay out of the public eye.
>
> I sighed. I wasn’t big on plans. I wasn’t the type to use lists or keep to them. It helped to frame what I was doing in my head, but it wasn’t me.
>
> Better if I figured out the high points I needed to hit and then winged it. I’d figure out what I needed to shop for when the time came.
>
> I sat down with what I saw as the little black book. I filled myself in on the local practitioners.
>
> When I got to the Others, however, I found the entries got a little more complicated and short form. Latin classifications, short form that necessitated I look it up, measures and linking to reference material instead of explaining them outright.
>
> Grandmother, it seemed, was more interested in Others than people.
After the diary we now know how she hated having to read to whole books to get to the point, how it was hard to look for information for her at a younger age, so sit makes sense that she would just hyperlink everything, make it as simple and to the point as possible, organize things alphabetically and just... easy to get into all of this, or at least as easy as it gets with no one to teach you.
> “Rose!” I called out.
>
> There was no reply.
>
> I made my way through the house, searching each of the mirrors. I found her in the library.
>
> “Rose,” I said.
>
> She sat on the floor. Her hair had pulled free of the brooch, and she was surrounded by books. Damn, she looked worn out. Not tired, per se, but like she’d been through the wringer.
>
> “What do you want, Blake?”
>
> “First of all, I want to make sure you’re okay.”
>
> “Let’s say I’m not,” she said. She carefully set books aside and climbed to her feet. She didn’t seem willing to meet my eyes, biting her lip, thoughts clearly elsewhere.
>
> “What can I do?”
>
> It wasn’t a hard question, but it seemed to bother her. “Survive the meeting? We survive, there’s always room for things to get better.”
>
> “I’m on board with that,” I said.
>
> Why did it look like I was upsetting her more?
>
> “Listen,” I said. “I’ve done the reading. The sections on the Others in the little black book are kind of dense, but I got the gist of it, and I think I can put names to most of the important faces. I know the practitioners I’m up against.”
>
> “That’s good,” she said. “I read through all of that too.”
>
> “I’ve also memorized a few of the basic sigils. Driving people away, like Laird Behaim did in the coffee shop, moving things like I did with the mug, and protecting objects. I’ve got salt and chalk if I need it.”
>
> “I wouldn’t rely on that, if I was in your shoes,” she said.
>
> I frowned, “Why?”
>
> “The books say that generally, spirits aren’t that smart. They’re more like small animals, in terms of their capacity to understand things. Like animals, you can train or bait them. In an area trafficked by people who use spirits a great deal, you can trust they’re going to listen.”
>
> “This is that type of area.”
>
> “But who are they listening to? Remember how Laird said the spirits of community listen to him because of his role? Out there, they aren’t just listening to you. Their loyalties are divided.”
Ironic that I kept wishing for Rose to get attention and get better and she just kinda... broke after the ritual. She is looking and acting like she is quite done.
> “I think I follow,” I said. “What’s the end result? What happens if they aren’t all in the same camp?”
>
> “I think it’ll be slower, or fuzzier. You might get nothing, or it might backfire.”
>
> That took some of the wind out of my sails. “I’m still powerless?”
>
> “Powerless until you get enough clout to bully them or convince them to play along. It might be that grandmother’s name gives you some of the oomph you need. But if you reach for their help in a bind,” Rose said, “It’s going to be-”
>
> “-a crapshoot,” I said, in the same instant Rose did.
>
> I smiled a bit, but Rose didn’t. Her eyes dropped to the ground.
>
> I sighed. I could hardly blame her for not being in a smiling mood. Rose had her own concerns. Ones I couldn’t even wrap my head around. We didn’t have enough information on what she was or why grandmother had gone to the trouble of creating her.
>
> Problem was, I didn’t know how to fix this. When in doubt, the strategy was to empathize. As a rule, people wanted their feelings recognized more than they wanted fixes.
>
> “I can’t imagine how you feel,” I said. It was the truth. “You’ve been put in a horrible situation, with-”
>
> “Don’t do that,” she said. “Not if you’re using it like they taught it to you.”
>
> “Huh?”
>
> “Dad taught us that. How to get on people’s good side. Which may be something he picked up from grandmother.”
>
> “Grandfather,” I said. “It fits what we know of him.”
>
> “Don’t manipulate me, Blake. Don’t use strategies to deal with me. I was raised the same way you were, up to a point, I know the tricks.”
>
> “I do care, Rose. I want to help you. If I’m drawing from what I know to try-”
>
> “Blake,” Rose said. “It’s fine. It’s done, you’re in charge, I’m the backup. You want me to keep the criticisms to the most vital points? Fine. You want me to do the research and supplement what you’re doing, fine. You win.”
Nooo Rose dont you do the you win thing. Its more frustrating than anything.
t. abusive relationships involving me or people around me. The “you win” phrase still strikes some chords inside me when it comes up in a conversation or discussion or anything really.
> “I don’t want to win. I want us to be on the same page.”
>
> “The same page? You got the power, I got… this. How do you have a partnership if things are this unequal? Let’s face it. Look at what happened to Molly. Grandmother is willing to use us as expendable assets. I’m nothing more than a piece in a greater puzzle. I’ll serve my role, and the road ends there. I’m the most expendable one of us.”
>
> “I don’t think she made you as some expendable asset,” I said.
>
> “I’ve been reading. Everything referencing diabolists says they’re dangerous lunatics, except for the stuff that was written by grandmother and other diabolists. The temptation to offer pieces of yourself for obvious gains sucks all of them in eventually. The guys who unleash some of the worst stuff out there? The guys who meet the worst ends? They’re in the same category as her. Our grandmother. Over and over, they become monsters. Literally, or generally monstrous people that might use their kids or grandkids as sacrificial pawns to get what they need.”
I dont exactly see what Grandmother would have to gain from creating an entirely new person as Rose. Only if the plan was to in some way reincarnate in the mirror body. It would make sense with what we know of Grandma, but we dont exactly know of magics and spells to dismiss this point as impossible.
> “I don’t deny that they’re fucked up. But grandmother lived. She hit the ripe old age of eighty-five, and I doubt you do that while messing with stuff like this if you’re dumb. Besides, dumb people aren’t the type to spend the kind of power it takes to make a sapient being, only to throw it away like you’re talking about.”
>
> That actually seemed to help. Not that she looked happy, but maybe the way didn’t look so dark.
>
> “There isn’t a book we can read to figure out why I was created,” Rose said. Her eyes were still downcast. “I looked at the earliest diary entries, and the most recent.”
Ah, so maybe the pages we read were some that Rose perused.
> “Anything useful in the most recent?” I asked.
>
> She shook her head. “No. Nothing. The early ones… I sort of skipped past the earliest diaries, because a child’s writing is hard to read in big doses. Some stuff on the relationships between the different groups here. But if you’re looking for tips on where to focus our studies, we may have to look a bit further.”
>
> “Relationships,” I said.
>
> “It wasn’t all friendly or peaceful, though it sounds like there was more of an equilibrium a while back.”
>
> “Like Laird said,” I thought aloud, “It’s starting to change. If the house sells, Jacob’s Bell grows past a threshold. It’s thrown things a bit out of balance.”
>
> “You’ve got the two big circles joining in marriage, maybe rebuilding that balance.”
>
> “Status quo for the Duchamp family, it sounds like,” I said. Which was a reminder of the matter at hand. “Listen, The council meeting starts in three and a half hours. I wanted to check you were up for it.”
>
> “I’m up for it,” she said. She met my eyes, but that only made it clearer how worn out she was.
>
> “Be careful,” I said. “If you lie-”
>
> “I know,” she said. Nervously, she started fiddling with her hair, trying to get it sorted out. “I might lose my powers, or be forsworn. And I don’t want to lose any protections I might have, if things like Padraic can reach in here to get me. Not that I have much else to lose.”
>
> I nodded.
>
> “Don’t worry about me if you’re not going to worry about yourself,” Rose said. “You look as tired as I feel, and since you’re the one making the big decisions, like when to go out and-”
>
> “Woah,” I said. “Woah, woah. You’re talking about this?”
>
> “About going out with Laird.”
>
> “I thought we weren’t fighting.”
>
> I could see her expression change. Barely restrained frustration, slowly but surely being covered up, hidden behind a mask. “We’re not. Nevermind. I got carried away. I’ll meet you downstairs in a bit, and then we’ll go?”
>
> A big part of me wanted to argue. To press the issue. To air grievances and get things on a more even keel. To convince her that I didn’t want her as a slave or a servant.
But if you press the issue you will be yet agains forcing her to do something, in this case, discuss the issue.
> Except we had more pressing matters. Better to find a way to show it to her rather than tell her.
>
> “Sure,” I said.
>
> ■
>
> The spirits parted. I knew when it was time, because of the way the surroundings changed. A moment of rest, where the snow wasn’t so hard, the spirits were settled, and an entire area was almost clear, in magical terms. In regular terms, the snowstorm let up a touch. It was dark, but that was more to do with cloud cover than time of day.
>
> I was on the move the moment the coast was clear, but I didn’t go to the meeting.
>
> I headed for the downtown area, backpack empty, pockets full. Everything I could think I might need on hand.
>
> Fireplaces and stoves. No. Dollar store? No. An old-school ice-cream shop complete with the benches and the tall glasses for fondues and ice cream floats.
>
> I settled on a general mens store.
>
> Knives were on sale, but I didn’t like the idea of using them. Too short a reach, against the sorts of things I would be fighting.
>
> I did like the look of the ice picks and hatchets. Prices on the picks hit the hundreds, while I could manage a hatchet for as little as forty.
>
> Wooden baseball bat, a touch less expensive.
>
> I added the weight of a loop of chain to the cart as well.
>
> Then I stepped into the corner of the shop where they handled bicycle stuff.
>
> Cheap side-mirrors were about four dollars for a pair, round mirrors about six inches across. I checked that I could see Rose inside and grabbed twenty.
>
> I think she might have actually smiled, when I glimpsed her.
>
> I did another circuit of the store. There were rifles and guns, but those started at a hundred and fifty dollars, and I had little doubt they’d stop working in a pinch. Many Others would be immune or too hard to kill with a regular gun. In terms of cost benefit, I’d rather have more mirrors.
>
> If I couldn’t get a gun at this point, the bow and arrow set stood out as a tempting alternative. It helped that there were Others who were vulnerable to wood and not metal. There were problems in terms of cost, though. At ninety dollars minimum, it was just outside of the range I was willing to pay.
>
> And, when I thought about it, it would be hell to practice if my movements were limited to the interior of Hillsglade House. It would take too long to learn.
>
> I had basic weapons for self defense, plus a few tools, which would have to tide me over until I got further in my studies over the magic stuff.
>
> When I approached the counter to pay, I got stares. It made me wonder if the process of awakening had changed anything about me. Or if they were enemies.
I dont doubt Blake's enemies would be slightly amused about him making an attempt to protect himself.
> I made my way to the next store. A general catch-all bargain shop, a little better than the dollar store I had passed. Expanding beyond the one pair of jeans would go a long way for my sanity. So would having decent soap and shampoo. Even different laundry detergent would help. I grabbed all of the toiletries, a few spare t-shirts, a sweatshirt and added a thirty dollar pair of jeans, just so I had something besides underwear to wear in a pinch.
>
> It made me feel better, knowing I had the stuff, feeling the weight of it in the shopping basket. It left me roughly twenty bucks to get food, but I could stretch a little money a long way on that front. I was happier having permanent things, new things. Even if they were cheap shirts for 75% off. If I had more money in general, I would be a shopaholic or a hoarder.
Makes sense, him having a homeless background and all that
> When I headed to the front of the store, a young boy got in my way. Just past the brink of entering adolescence, pale and brown haired.
>
> My first thought was Other. The memories of the things that had attacked the fake delivery man were fresh in my mind. It wasn’t. Very much human.
>
> “You’re Blake, aren’t you?”
>
> I nodded.
>
> “Do you recognize me?”
>
> I nodded again. Molly’s younger brother.
Oh-oh? What are you doing in town?
> When he didn’t say anything, giving me a death glare, I said, “Christoff. Hey, listen. I’m sorry about your sister.”
>
> “Why are you sorry?” he asked. “Did you do it?”
>
> God damn, the way he could say it as if I had… with a hardness in his voice? That had to have been something that the family had imbued in him over the years of fighting. Something he would have picked up. It was the kind of accusation that had enough weight to it that even an innocent target could be put off balance and made to consider the question.
>
> “No, Christoff. The police already cleared me.”
>
> “That doesn’t mean anything. Did you kill my sister?”
>
> “No,” I said. Not unless murder by omission is possible. “I didn’t.”
>
> I could see Callan approaching, giving me a bit of a wary look. His mother wasn’t far behind.
Shut up Callan.
> Callan was almost thirty. His mother was forty and looked ten years older, by the condition of her skin and hair, her arms full with a bundle of shirts with superheroes on them. I couldn’t help but see Aunt Irene as the type of person who had faced hardships every day and had emerged just a fraction weaker from each crisis. Worrying about money and work and all of that tended to eat you up inside. I knew, even if I had lived it for only a short time, what that was like.
>
> All that said, it didn’t mean I was a fan of her as a person.
>
> Callan frowned as stopped behind Christoff, putting his hands on his little brother’s shoulders.
>
> “I was just saying to Christoff,” I said, “I’m sorry about Molly. You have my condolences.”
>
> “But you still didn’t waste any time in taking the house,” Callan said. His glare matched those of Christoff and my aunt.
>
> “Ah, someone told you?”
>
> “It’s in the papers,” he said. “Every day, talking about Molly, talking about you. Who’s the new heir, that sort of thing.”
>
> “I didn’t have much of a choice in any of it,” I said. “I don’t want the house or the baggage that comes with it. At this point, I’d be pretty happy give up all the money and walk away from all of this… without anyone getting hurt.”
>
> “But you’re living there,” Callan said. “So you must want some part of it.”
>
> “It’s complicated,” I said.
>
> “Your parents said you were homeless. I bet you fucked up, and this is the only place you have to live. Squatting in my sister’s house before her body’s even cold.”
Oh SHUT the fuck up Callan.
> I expected his mother to rebuke him, to respond to the callous comment about Molly.
>
> She was cold before she died, I thought.
>
> What I said was, “She was one of the very few family members I ever liked, honestly. She was a friend to me. I meant it when I said I’m sorry.”
>
> “She wasn’t your friend,” Aunt Irene said, and her voice had that accusatory hardness that Christoff had picked up. Her eyes narrowed, an expression to match her tone, “Every other second I look at you, I wonder how you’re responsible.”
>
> How, not if.
>
> “You keep saying you’re sorry, and I believe it a little less each time,” Callan said. “Tell you what. Go. Don’t ever fucking talk about my sister again, just go, and we won’t have a problem.”
>
> I didn’t say anything, out of concern it would be taken as binding. Instead, I circled around to walk past him.
>
> He took a step to the side, getting in my way. “I didn’t say pay and leave. I said leave.”
>
> “You said go,” I said. “I’m going.”
>
> “Not this way,” he said. “Not with this shit you need to keep squatting in my sister’s house.”
>
> Heads were turning. We had the attention of every shopper and employee in the store, now.
>
> I thought of Rose’s recent surrender. I didn’t agree with it. It wasn’t what I wanted… but I didn’t want an issue here, either.
>
> “Fine,” I said. “Let me give the basket to the cashier-”
>
> “Don’t be an asshole,” Callan said. “Go put it all back on the shelves and racks.”
>
> I dropped the basket. “No. But I’ll leave, without buying, without incident. You win, Callan.”
>
> He smirked, but when I turned to go around him, he reached out and put his hand on my shoulder, maybe to slow me down so he could get in my way again.
>
> I shoved him, hard enough he stumbled three steps back.
>
> Before anything further could happen, I headed for the doors. More for his sake than mine. I wasn’t forgetting the consequences of missing the council meeting, as I thought that. I was-
>
> The sound of running footsteps made me stop. The expressions of the cashiers to my right clued me in.
>
> I reacted, half-turning, bringing my arm up. The arm wasn’t in position to deflect the worst of the hit, but I was more or less ready as Callan did his damndest to sucker-punch me. It hurt, but it was only pain. No disorientation, no loss of consciousness.
>
> My retaliation was automatic. I hit him, fist to face. He reeled, bending over to the point that I thought he was going to do a somersault. But I was already swinging the follow-up strike, waist-level.
>
> He hit the ground, rolled onto his back, and he didn’t get up. His mouth was open, lip split, and he stared, blinking hard, looking in a different direction each time he opened his eyes.
>
> Fuck, my hands hurt like a bitch.
>
> Employees came running, as well as one or two male customers. I backed away, hands raised.
>
> But when they reached us, two employees dropped to their knees beside Callan, and the rest of the intervening bystanders put themselves between us, forming a protective half-circle around Callan. Six of them, and another fourteen or so bystanders.
>
> “He hit me first,” I said.
>
> “You shoved him,” a man said. He looked fifty or so, but had a walker, oddly out of tune with his age.
>
> “That’s not how it happened and you know it,” I said.
>
> The man said, “I know you’re that guy in the Hillsglade place right now. You selling it anytime soon?”
>
> “No, the contract-”
>
> “Then I think I know what we’re telling the police,” he said. He looked around, and slowly, each other member of the small crowd started nodding in agreement.
I do not have words to how angry this is making me. And it is reflecting in the liveblog.
> Too coincidental. Too much fuckery, for this to happen now. I switched to my other way of seeing.
>
> Nothing stood out, no strange glows or images that weren’t supposed to be here. No Others were in the area.
>
> When I turned to more basic elements, I could see how active the spirits were. Nothing too unusual, though this was my first opportunity seeing how the spirits traveled back and forth between people, maintaining relationships. If I unfocused a bit, they almost looked like ribbons or cords, connecting people throughout the area.
>
> Three of the ribbons stood out from the rest. Too straight, too narrow. They were like spears that had penetrated Callan, Aunt Irene and Christoff and plunged into me.
>
> Forced connections between us. Too direct to be natural. Someone had aimed them at me.
>
> Fuckery.
>
> There were rules, though. No interfering with or attacking anyone else in the time leading up to, during, or after the meeting.
>
> Had this been done beforehand? Had things been set up so that they’d get in my way at the first available opportunity?
>
> Or had someone found a loophole?
>
> I wasn’t sure I had a chance to debate it. A cashier was dialing on the phone, her eyes on me.
>
> In that moment, I saw Laird enter the store, not in uniform, but wearing a long coat, cheeks red from the cold. He surveyed the situation.
>
> “Mr. Thorburn,” he said.
>
> “Officer,” I said. “Pretty prompt response to a call that hasn’t been made yet.”
>
> “Are you getting smart with me?” he asked.
>
> I shook my head. “Only stating the truth.”
>
> He gave me an appraising look. “Yes. I imagine you are. Katie, you can put the phone down. He’s right, there isn’t a point.”
>
> “He had a few harsh words for the fellow there,” the guy with the walker said, “Then shoved him, they exchanged blows.”
>
> “That so?” Laird asked. He surveyed the room very slowly. His eyes settled on Katie. “I’m asking. Is it, Katie?”
>
> She looked at the crowd.
>
> “Katie?”
>
> “No, sir.”
>
> “No. I didn’t think so. I’ll tell you what. You guys go on about your business, and I’ll see that Mr. Thorburn gets to his destination. Deal?”
>
> “Yes sir,” a few nearby people mumbled.
>
> “Mr. Thorburn?” he asked, giving me a sharp look.
>
> “Sounds good,” I said.
>
> “I don’t think I heard that clearly enough,” he said. His stare was a level one.
>
> Right. He wanted to play this game.
>
> I wouldn’t be buying clothes, toiletries or groceries, it seemed.
Wait, weren't the things from different stores? Nice touch on the possibility of loopholes already in the safety guaranteed thing, but then that is fishy as fuck. How can you meddle with someone in such a way and it not count as... ah well, w/e. I’m not going to lie and pretend I remember the exact wording that goes for the Meeting Truce.
> “I’ll go with you,” I said.
>
> “Good,” he responded, smiling.
>
> We went on our way. I hadn’t turned off my second sight, and I saw how the spirits were shifting. People were milling around the area, which was more like an extended strip mall than a true downtown, but the spirits diverted them from taking one side street.
>
> We turned down that street, and were soon joined by Andy and Eva. The witch hunters.
>
> “I assume they aren’t bound by any neutrality rules,” I said.
>
> “No,” Laird said. “But if they wanted to kill you, they could enter your home and murder you in their sleep.”
>
> The girl smiled, giving me a look. Confident, brash, if I remembered right from the vision. Her brother kept his eyes straight forward, watching the ground for slick patches and lumps of snow he might stumble on. He was burdened down with bags of stuff, while she strutted.
>
> I’d read up on the locals. What had the little black book said? They were witch hunters in service to Jacob’s Bell. Killing or punishing any Other or practitioner who strayed too far from the rules and made life inconvenient. Half of their payment came in the form of hard cash. Half was in either trinkets they could use on their job or knowledge.
>
> We approached a church. The area was desolate.
>
> I saw the woman with a blur for a face pause outside, waiting for a man to hold the door open. She was the one who’d molded the other who’d pretended to be a delivery driver. I saw her deliberately put the little ever-lit cigarette out before entering.
>
> A church wasn’t my first guess for a meeting place.
>
> Inside, Laird walked me to the front, where his family sat in the front row of pews. He paused, bending down to talk to his wife, and I walked on, my eyes taking it in.
>
> All eyes were on me, in turn. It made for a kind of pressure. Like all of the bad parts of public speaking without the ability to say something and give off a better impression.
Finally time for the meeting with everyone. Finding out our enemies, the who's who of the town.
> Behaim Circle, chronomancers. Demesnes situated in scattered residences across the city. I was familiar enough with them.
>
> Sitting in the aisles opposite the Behaims was the Duchamp Coven. According to the little black book, their line was purely female, and their craft was taught to women only. Easy enough, when any Duchamp woman would give birth girls only. A large family with strong ties to many of the surrounding areas, the family had earned a measure of prestige and power by marrying off their daughters and cousins to others in Ontario, Quebec, and the Northeastern States. Enchantresses.
>
> What were enchantresses? Essentials had filled me in on the basics. They would be focused on altering relationships. Influencing people, influencing things. An object could have its owner reassigned, so it might find its way into someone else’s hands, or be tethered to a location, so it would continually end up there. On the higher end of things, people could be altered, with an enchantress literally stealing someone’s love. On the veryhigh end of things, familiars could be claimed by an enchantress that didn’t already have one, among other general bends and twists in more fundamental rules.
>
> In short, they were the most likely culprits for sending Aunt Irene’s family my way.
Or maybe sending a group of girls, their own daughters mayhaps, to beat up Rose when she was small, even before they were turned practitioners.
> A middle-aged aboriginal woman sat alone, and nobody sat near her. Mara Angnakak. She straddled the line between practitioner and Other. When Jacob’s Bell was first settled by colonists, she was already here. The notes had marked that she was very reserved, but she harbored a horrendous amount of hatred for the rest of us. Grandmother had written out suspicions that she was illiterate; arguing it would explain why her talents seem to be limited to what she could teach herself. Centuries of such teaching and experimentation, but limited nonetheless.
>
> Being a practitioner inevitably meant losing a bit of your humanity and becoming a bit more Other. My new eyesight was a part of that, one step along what could be a long journey. Mara Angnakak had nearly finished that journey before stopping. Or she had to have, if she was that old.
>
> She was here before Europeans came to Canada and chances were good that she intended to be here well after we were gone.
Protecting her land in a way probably. Taking care of old beings that dont even hold an identity any more. I'd put money on her having access to things like Barba-whatsis, as in, unknown beings that have lost meaning to most.
> A girl slouched in a seat. Her familiar wasn’t in its mortal form, but was ethereal, with all of the mass of a grizzly on the front end, and a tail end that looked like that of a fish, the features an incoherent blend of different animals and plants, different features being emphasized as I looked longer. Her stick tapped the floor with no rhythm at all. She’d seated herself nearer the Others at the back than the two big families. I recognized her as the one who’d been shouting at the rabbit.
>
> She would be the Briar Girl. No other name. A recent addition to the local population, as of six years ago. She apparently lived full-time in the woods and marshes behind Hillsglade House. Grandmother’s suspicion? She had contracted with a familiar too powerful for her to handle, creating something that was less a partnership than a practitioner dominated by the spirit. The bear-thing would be the familiar, the stick her implement.
I'm going to bet it is something like that, but missing some keypoint. Like maybe she took the spirit as a familiar willing to be controlled. A stick for implement, so maybe guidance, strenght in many? Balance, equilibrium, reach, stability. Safety? Halted Growth? I really think something mutual is going on with them both.
> Johannes, the sorcerer from the north end, was already sitting, but he’d chosen to sit among the Others, near the back, rather than anywhere near the two families. His dog sat beside him, a breed that could easily look silly, given the chance, but it managed to look noble.
>
> It helped that the lights behind the dog seemed somehow brighter, the rest of the room darker by contrast.
>
> Others continued to appear, and it seemed as though they had been arriving for a while. They avoided the pews and stood around the edges. Where they clustered, their bodies blocked the wall-mounted lights behind them, and the room darkened.
>
> I found an empty row and sat. I put the backpack down on the pew beside me and fished out a pair of bike mirrors. I adjusted the zipper, and zipped up around the prong where the mirror was supposed to fit into the bike handle. It stuck up, facing forward.
>
> Easily an hour passed before the influx of Others started to taper off. My mouth was dry, my heart pounding, my face hurt where I’d been hit, and my hands hurt more.
>
> Above all else, I was realizing what I was up against. These weren’t pages in the little black book. They were enemies of mine. Virtually all of them.
>
> A lot of them would kill me.
>
> A good few would probably do worse things than kill me.
Like press their hands against your skin and tie pieces of you together in a nice little bow.
> This wasn’t quite what I had expected. I’d expected a few practitioners. Not everyone.
>
> “Blake,” Rose whispered.
>
> “What?” I asked, leaning closer.
>
> “Don’t tell anyone that I did the ritual,” she said.
>
> I nodded.
>
> Keep cards up our sleeves. That was how we needed to think.
I still dont understand if her doing the ritual put them in a disadvantage or no. We'll have to wait and see.
> But we couldn’t be wilting flowers, bowing over if someone so much as looked at us the wrong way. I could do that for Callan, but not here.
>
> A woman from the Duchamp family was talking to Laird, off to the side. She might have been the one who was talking in the vision I’d had. Not the oldest Duchamp woman here, but she had a kind of presence. They both cast glances my way as they talked, making me the obvious topic of conversation.
>
> I went out of my way to look like I wasn’t terrified.
>
> All of these people were my enemies.
>
> “Beautiful Rose,” Padraic purred. “Both of them, here. A good night, I’m sure.”
>
> He’d entered alongside his two regular companions, two other companions of similar attractiveness, and Maggie Holt, the girl with the checkered scarf. She was a teenager, making her slightly younger than the Briar Girl, and her eyebrows made her look perpetually angry, helped by a swift, graceless manner of walking.
>
> She sat to my right, across the aisle. Padraic and his group sat around her, instantly and automatically settling into comfortable seating positions that could have doubled for poses.
>
> “Padraic, as usual, is the last to enter,” Laird said. “We can begin a little early tonight. Please, Mr. Thorburn. You’re at the center of attention. Would you please step up to the front and introduce yourself?”
>
> Every set of eyes in the room
>
> “Say no,” Rose said.
>
> “I said I’d run impulsive plans by you, right?” I asked.
>
> “Blake?”
>
> “Mr. Thorburn?” Laird asked, his voice ringing down the length of the church.
>
> “If I had a way to divert our enemies from us and to each other?” I asked. “Yes or no?”
>
> “Blake, you can’t expect me to-”
What the fuck is the plan. I'm expecting it to be in the cliffhanger.
> “Blake Thorburn, grandson of Mrs. Rose D. Thorburn, Diabolist of Hillsglade House,” Laird said. “I would like a response.”
>
> Making someone repeat themselves, in some cases, would make them look weaker. Laird was getting more intimidating each time he spoke.
>
> “Yes,” she said.
>
> I stood.
>
> There was no murmur of conversation as I walked down the aisle. There were hundredshere, but most were Others, and they were all exceptionally good at being quiet. Goblins, disgusting to look at, as though they were distilled versions of human ugliness, squat and all of them armed with weapons forged together from scrap. Ghosts, etheral and exaggerated in appearance, forever marked with their causes of death, twisted by an imperfect recollection of what they looked like and who they were, before. Faerie, in myriad shapes and forms, and spirits. The other half of the Others were impossible to identify.
>
> Funny, how many others with the appearances of children were around Johannes.
>
> Andy and Eva sat on the stairs to the right of the stage, facing down everyone. Like bailiffs or guards, a reminder to keep the peace. The other set of stairs was blocked by the crowd. I stood at the very end of the aisle, and gripped the railing.
>
> In the midst of the faces, of the twenty or so members of the Duchamp coven and thirty-ish members of Laird’s family, all of the Others, I had to search to find the tiny round mirror that Rose would be peering out of.
>
> “I’m Blake Thorburn,” I said. “I doubt you really care about that, or about who I am. I imagine Molly Walker did her own speech here. I can’t even guess how she handled it, or what she said. I’m an obstacle for you to remove, to get power. I know this. I know you might see me as one number on a countdown clock, with prosperity waiting when there’s nothing left. When there are no successors. But you need to know, that thing so many of you are terrified of? That I might learn enough to summon something problematic? It’s already summoned.”
>
> I could see Laird react to that. A shift in the crowd. Some of the kids went pale, in the Duchamp family.
>
> Johannes smiled. Mara the immortal, for her part, didn’t say or do anything. Most Others didn’t seem to care one way or another.
Johannes probably already knows what is up, and I somehow doubt he is expecting more power. He strikes me as someone who already has what he wants. But I also barely know anything about him.
> “Not my choice. I also didn’t choose the arrangements my grandmother put in place,” I said.
>
> I was thinking of Rose, but I didn’t need to elaborate on that.
>
> “Some of you have been baiting me, trying to get me to retaliate. I don’t know why, but I imagine there’s something at play. I’m not going to do what they want. I’m going to make you guys a deal. I’ll make three deals. If you approach me and offer a ceasefire, an agreement you won’t attack me or help anyone who might, if you make a good offer, I’ll take the demon off the table for you and yours.”
>
> I could see people exchanging glances.
>
> That was a maxim, right? A rule of war?
>
> Divide and conquer.
I didnt get the feeling Barbatholomeus was the sole reason peole were worried, but if that is enough to get people to get paranoid, then I'm happy. I'm binging a lot of chapters right now, so I'll dive right into the next one. With this in the ending, I'm heavily leaning towards someone bringing a major point against Blake. Let's a go.
2019 Addendum: Next liveblog on Friday!
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WENT DOWN IN HISTORY
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The rays of the early morning sun danced across the walls of Strongheart Castle, a dark haired child sat beneath a great statute in the heart of the castle’s courtyard as he read aloud from a large tome. His lightly glowing blue eyes scanning over each word.
“Duke Theodore I the Victorious. Statesman, Soldier, Advocate. Beginning his rule in the thirty-second year after the Dark Portal first opened after the abdication of his father, the young Lord faced not merely the challenges of a newly risen duke but the Burning Legion world of Argus that threatened the very world itself.
However, Duke Theodore was undaunted. Wielding the elf-blade Libertas, he rose the sons and daughters of Summerfast to war under the banner of House Bennas and Field Marshal Integra Brenagh’s Oathsworn Vanguard. and guided them to Argus itself. There, the men-at-arms of House Bennas distinguished themselves for their bravery and ferocity and under the shrewd gaze of their Duke stood victorious alongside the peoples of the Horde, Alliance, and the Army of the Light as the Burning Legion was finally defeated.
With the fall of the Burning Legion, Duke Theodore was not content. When the Alliance and the Horde clashed once more, he led his fearless people northward under the banner of the Vanguard as one of its Marshals to return civilization back to the northern kingdoms that had become shells of their former selves. So cunning were the strategies of Duke Theodore and so deadly were the famed polehammers of House Bennas that few could stand against their fury. In his conquests in the name of the Alliance, he retook the County of Illyria that belonged to his mother’s family, making himself the Count. In Stromgarde, he was officially recognized for his deeds on behalf of humanity at large and the Kingdom. He was granted the right to wear the symbols and decorations of an imperial general of old Strom.
But war is not all the Duke is remembered for. In his time, he patronized the arts and education in Summerfast and Stormwind. Taking inspiration from the Stormwind University, Duke Theodore constructed universities both magical and mundane in the town of Strongheart and many schools in the countryside. Peoples of many races found home within the safety and prosperity of Summerfast, bringing their ideas, magics, and technologies with them. Chief of them, the gnomish genius, Summy Sparklesprocket, who with Theodore oversaw the construction of the famed Theodorian Walls.
In diplomacy, the Gryphon Lord of Summerfast was unmatched. He brought Summerfast from isolation to friendship with Lord Winterscar of Northrend, the Holts of Duskwood, and so many more. He settled the Gilnean House, House Brenagh, within his lands as a baron. Even the quel’dorei noted his valor, worth, and kindness such that Theodore had taken an elven wife albeit briefly and had his heir, the future Duke Edward, by her. Even those of the Horde recognized both his valor and his honor such that even in war, the great Commander Phaeith of House Ven’torum counted him as friend. Such was his skill at diplomacy that he mended relations with House Von Gacy that had soured during the Gnoll Wars. Thus, during the rule of Theodore the Victorious, from commoner to high noble, the name of Bennas was spoken with praise.
Chief among all his achievements, however, was that Duke Theodore had won the friendship of the Wildhammer dwarves through his Field Marshal Integra and won a gryphon for a martial companion for the first time in House Bennas’ history since Arianne herself.
As for his myriad other accomplishments, no shortage of records exist as they are well recorded in the annals of history. And thus, in time, the rule of Duke Theodore I the Victorious, the Father of Summerfast, came to an end and the coronet and the elfblade passed from father to son. In years following Theodore’s death, Summerfast grew even further in size and prosperity along with the kingdom at large. Thus, a father’s greatest dream became realized, to be exceeded by his son.
The boy looked down from the book up at the statute, a marble image of that same Duke Theodore I dressed in the armor he wore on Argus, a gryphon resting beside him. His gaze focused to the east where the sun rose. An outstretched arm pointed out towards that same direction.
“Percy!” A sudden voice shook the boy out of his contemplation, “What are you doing up so early?”
The voice came from his Lady-mother, the current Duchess of House Bennas, who looked down at her son from her horse. With a sigh, the armored woman dismounted, “Well, let’s get you some breakfast.” Her eyes glowed brighter than Percy’s own though her hair was just as dark like her father before her. The elven traits of her father and her grandmother still strong in her facial features and ears. She sighed, shaking her head with a laugh.
Thanks for the ask @areniaagn
Mentions of @integrabrenagh @householt @summysparklesprocket @bodolf-von-gacy @ithaerielbrenagh @scarletlioness @auroryn-dawnsworn (Indirectly?) Also @juliette-bennas
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Always Mine.
- Hanbin x Reader (ft. Monsta X’s Shownu)
- Requested part 3 to Just Go and Please Stay
- Angst, fluff
-This is it folks, the last installment of this monstrosity. It only took me 7 months to finish (sorry guys, I lost inspiration for it somewhere in the middle) I’m glad to be able to finish it. Even though it’s not one of the more popular posts I have, I’ve invested a lot of time into the trilogy so I sincerely hope you all enjoy at least some part of this insane journey. Thank you for reading. As always, feedbacks are welcome.
- Despite being the one to initiate the break up, Hanbin finds himself lost without you. All the while, the return of your past life poses an imminent threat that Hanbin knows all too well might be the end of you and him forever.
Endless streams of clouds floating pass the small window of the private jet fast steading, tearing through the golden rosy sunset sky. Leaning back into the white leather seat, Hanbin nurses the second glass of whatever the hell it was he had grabbed out of the bar in the blur between boarding and stumbling to his seat. He couldn’t really care about anything but you at this moment what’s with the strange cryogenic state your relationship is in as you laid silently in the hospital alone. Whatever could take his throbbing mind off the obvious state of the stale relationship he had ruined will works, nothing seems to matter to him anymore. Watching the amber liquid swirling around the crystal clear pieces of ice, condensation rolling down the crystal glass, old memories flood his senses much more bitter than the taste of poison on his tongue. Against better judgement of the throbbing headache that screams for him to take rest, he let himself drown in the ghost of your memories.
It wasn’t too long after he was abled to call you girlfriend that you had gotten a big promotion at work. To commemorate the occasion and a small reward for your hard work, he took you on a surprise weekend getaway on his jet. The wonder filling your eyes, the cute random questions you’d ask, your curiosity, all if it delighted his excited heart.
“Wait babe, you mean all this time you took business trip, it’s this plane?” You stared around in awe of every tiniest details. Sure you had been in first class on trips with your own company so a bar on the plane isn’t anything new. However, he got a freaking chandelier, a damn chandelier in the stupid plane. If that doesn’t scream extravagant, you were sure you didn’t know what would.
Your amazement found itself landing on the large leather couch, white just as the rest of the interior and no doubt as heavenly as the one in the living room of his more than spacious house. Hanbin had teasingly winked, whispering sultrily, hot breath fanning the shell of your ear, something about mile-high club and bed when you had stumbled pass it earlier while boarding. Too wrapped up in your own amazement of the overwhelming sight, you hadn’t paid much attention to his words until now. A giant burst of heat and steam erupted on your face the second your brain clicked onto what he had meant, your face redden, way worse than the reddening sky outside.
“Hmm, what’s wrong? I thought you knew?” He peered down at your half amused half impressed expression with just a hint of embarrassment. He caught your pouty lips in his, moulding them perfectly against each other.
“I don’t know.” You giggled hard at the slender fingers prodding at your side. “The thought you of waiting so so “patiently” in line through security, then to get on the plane, then through custom is kind of funny.” Your little air quote gesture pulled a hearty laugh from Hanbin, his eyes lighted up in delight just as it always did from your random little antic. “Now I know why you never minded long trips. You practically brought the comfort of home along with you.”
“Why? cause you think I can’t be patient? I’m offended.” His brows furrowed, his lips pursed in feigned anger but his eyes gave it all away - way too cute to be angry.
“Hey, you say that. Not me. Come on, babe. You were like fuming the other night when we had to wait in line for those donuts you called stupid then ate half the box in one sitting.”
“Because it IS just some stupid donut. Why do I have to wait in line for that? I could have my chef makes better one for y-” His voice trailed off, expression immediately ceased up at your smugly smirk. Suddenly his words failed him as he scratched his head awkwardly, eyes stared longingly out the passing clouds avoiding your victorious giggle.
“Mmhmm… patient huh?” You flushed your body tight against his, fingers intertwining, seeking for warmth and security. Glancing back at the couch once again, you were sudden very aware of his every movement, from the way he’s rubbing up and down your arms to the soft breath steaming up the skin of your neck. Heat rushing, this burning all over your body as you struggled to keep the stableness in your lungs. “Hanbin, uh… you weren’t serious about the couch being a bed right?” You questioned, trying your best to keep your heart steady although you had an idea he knew you were far from calm from the way he stole that smirk right off your face. No doubts by now he had already felt the erratic drumming of your heart. The devilish mark of his playful side returned, replacing the puppy eyes and pouty lips as he knew once again, he was in full control.
“You’ll see…” He whispered simply before hoisting you up toward the piece of furniture in question. “Just to clarify, I can’t always have comfort of home at my disposal because this cute girl I call girlfriend always refuses to go on business trips with me.”
Everything was adorable in his eyes. You spent most of the rest of the flight staring out the window while snuggling up to his chest, forgotten completely about the objection of him wasting so much money celebrating something as lame as a promotion. You had always felt pale in comparison to your multimillionaire talented CEO boyfriend. What is a measly promotion in contrast with him holding a whole thriving empire under the tips of his fingers. What you didn’t know was his chest swell in pride for being able to love someone so determined, so hard working. Every little achievement, every tiny accomplishment would be a big deal in his eyes and he loves boasting about you any chance he gets.
Something about recalling the past had put a grumble in his stomach, Hanbin stands up stretching his legs before moving toward the small bar hoping for food. A slight upward curve of the lips still prominent on the worn out face sensing the sudden lift in the heaviness of the atmosphere from the sheer remembrance of you alone. He can’t wait to be back next to your side, to hold your hand, to recharge himself. Ultimately, he just wants to be there to ensure your safety once you’re awaken.
Bracing from the unexpected turbulent induced jerk, he sends paperwork that had been resting so peacefully on the small table flying through the air. A strange white envelope that resembles nothing of what could be work related catches his eyes as it lands with a force beyond impact of mere paper. His brows furrow in utter befuddlement before raising high from the way his eyes lit up in anticipation. Lily had given it to him before the trip along with a cryptic message bout urgent matter of the heart. Could it be that after all this time, you finally decided to break down his wall with the full force of your heart… He could only hope whatever lies in the carefully seal paper pouch would set his soul free. He had been waiting far too long for your frustration to settle and setting your feisty self ablaze, bursting into his office demanding a face to face. He knew it wasn’t a possibility but a boy could dream.
His fingers hesitate, a soft smile blooming as he soak in the bends and curves spelling out his name. He wouldn’t mistake it anywhere. He spent hours obsessing over how neat your writing was compare to his. You had complained for the umpteenth time about the chicken scratch he actually expect his subordinate to decipher when he, out of frustration, challenged you to do better. Sitting back down, food pushed to the back of his mind, mess of paper neglected, his finger nimbly tear open the envelope with great care.
“My dear Hanbin, I hope you’ve been well in my absent. You’ve always work way too hard and never bother with taking time for yourself. It worries me a great deal that I swear I lost 5 years off my lifespan. Now that I can no longer pester you to eat, promise me you’ll eat on time (and not junk food. You have personcal chefs, please put them to work). Please, find it in your heart to sleep once in awhile. I know, I know, the great vampire Hanbin knows no sleep but just try. It’s fun! Since I am no longer cluttering up all your time, it should free up a whole lotta time for these mundane activities that God-Hanbin deemed unworthy. You know, you have to assimilate to us normal folks at some point, don’t just sit in your great office all lonely. Eating, sleeping, going to yearly check up, have some fun, watch a movie, go shopping, meeting friends, hit up the club sometimes, all these things might seem small but they go a long way. Don’t worry, you look way too ethereal to be of this world, people will still know you’re heaven sent even if you do the things us normal folks do. Take a rest, the sun will rise and the world will still spin round tomorrow. Promise me you’ll do all of that so my heart can rest easy.”
Always with the praising and the subtle sarcasm, he chuckles at your seemingly delightful word despite nearly losing yourself pinning after someone as worthless as he is. Within the highs of laughter induced by your joke, a hidden sadness lurks in the shadows of the twists and turns of your written thoughts. It was almost as though you were writing final, farewell words. Words that will neatly wrap up the greatest chapter in his life, put a bow on the last bit of lingering hope in both yours and his eyes.
“I guess next comes the hard part now that the jokes are out of the way. I want to apologize for intruding back into your life when you had made it clear I was no longer welcome. You must understand, I was desperate to know of your wellbeing. I wouldn’t be able to live with myself if you’re hurting. It’s been a hell of a couple years with you in my life. I’m undeniably happier when you’re near and I hope you know that. You shined light in the darkest corner of my life, in ways I didn’t think was possible. You know, when I met you, not in a million year would I have thought you’d honor me by letting me share your life in such an intimate way. I would’ve choose to be with you million times over even if every single time I’d end up in heartbreaks. Don’t be sad, please. I know you wouldn’t hurt me if it wasn’t necessary because you’re a man of reason. Is it safe to say that you were at least in love with me when you made this decision? I also know you like to blame yourself for everything, even if it’s inevitable. I’m fine, love. I understand. Don’t blame yourself, don’t wallow in guilt, alright?”
The tear he had thought dried up from so many nights sulking in his own self loathe burst out like a stream, soaking his Sahara liked soul, begins to meander its way down his pale cold skin stinging every bit, every cell. He couldn’t find the strength to continue but he must. He misses you too much to part way with the thought you had so wonderfully written down for him. He will adore this the way he had everything else you’ve done even if it’s excruciatingly painful. Maybe, just maybe somewhere in the heartfelt lines, you’ll help him move on too.
“You’ve inspired me to smile at adversities and face my problems head on. I used to take your wise words for granted but now that I can no longer confide in your vast wisdom, I suddenly find myself lost? I don’t know how I’ll make it through hardship without your encouragement and advices but perseverance is key right?
Thank to you, I’m a better person. I guess what I’m trying to say is thank you. Thank you for one of the best chapter of my life. Thank you for letting me share a piece of history with someone as wonderful as you are. Thank you for loving me. I’m sorry for all the things I’ve said and all the things I should’ve said but didn’t. I wish you all the happiness in the world, happiness I couldn’t give you. I’m elated to see that you’ve found someone to entrust with your love once again. I must say she’s very exquisite. I hope she can make you feel like the only man in the world. I promise I’ll leave now so you can rebuild your life. Don’t worry about me. Hyunwoo had been taking excellent care of me and I thank you for bringing him back into my life. Promise me you’ll take care of yourself. Please, tell your parents I’m sorry I couldn’t say goodbye to them in person. I love them so much and thank you for allowing me to be part of the family even if it’s just for a little while. Tell your sister I’m sorry I can’t take her to Disneyland for her birthday. I’m sure you and your lady will be able to take care of that.
I won’t lie to you and say I’m not having a rough time. How could I not parting way from my heaven sent best friend and my everything. I will miss you so much.
Please allow me to say this one last time. My wonderful Hanbin, I love you. I will always love you. I hope we can meet as friends as we once were in the future.”
Leaning back onto the chair that barely seems to be able to support his sadness, Hanbin sighs dejectedly, a bitter chuckle breaches the corner of his lips. You were back with Hyunwoo after all. All his fear had been realized.
He lost you.
A sudden anger arises at the mention of your new love, or rather true love. Where the hell was he that you’ve been suffering all this time, all alone. He was supposed to make sure you’re safe. He was supposed to make sure you’re happy. All the days Hanbin spent by your side in the hospital, not once did Hyunwoo show up. Rage flashes, spreading like a brush fire in dry season, Hanbin slam his fist onto the small table before tearing away for another drink, already going against your words of taking care of himself.
It had been a mere 12 hours since Hanbin arrived to his destination but the anxiety of being separate from you already begin to surface, itching and aching through every inch of his body. It itches but when he reached out to scratch it dissipates, radiating out like an internal burn. It was nowhere but everywhere at once. There was no particular source of it he could sooth, no visible marks, just intense discomfort all throughout. Perhaps this grief with Hyunwoo for not taking care of his girl, Hanbin’s girl, properly pushes him just a little bit further over the edge than usual.
Deals signed in record time, even his own assistants couldn’t believe the aggressiveness of thousand lions pouring out from their own boss. He has no time to waste, no mind left to spare to entertain the pompous old man sitting across the table from him, all he wants now is to return home to the quietness of your hospital room, to the little niche he had made with you even if the imminent date of your awakening looms ahead like a great storm. He even finds himself missing the vexing beeps of your heart monitor. if he’s really honest, he had found solace in once again be able to listen to your heartbeat even if it wasn’t by pressing his face close to your chest while reveling in the pleasure of your soft hand carding through his jet black hair.
Waiting impatiently in the rooftop cafe of his hotel, his foot taps to some random rhythm that seems to take the surface layer of the aching that resulted from missing you away, just a surface scratch. He gazes upon the spotless black sky dirtied with the city light, wishing hard to turn back time to that summer night spent making love to you under the stars.
Oh what a summer that was. You had allowed him to take you to the furthest corner of your comfort zone, entrusting him wholeheartedly in all the crazy ventures he suggested even barely a few months into your young bud of a relationship. You both pushed your own limits to extents neither of you had before, physically and emotionally. You let him depended on your comforting embrace and cuddles like an abandoned puppy finally finding a permanent home to rest his weary mind, chipped away by a world he never truly belonged in. In return, he helps you get lost through his low grunts and your own moans of highs that only Hanbin could provide. He sighs out in satisfaction as his senses recall the ways you let him touched you, hold you. Ways that let him know you had given yourself fully to him, obeying his every word, drinking in every pass of his fingers.
Perhaps the most memorable of all would be the hours laid under the bursting galaxy above that was so magnificent without getting stained by the city’s lights, bodies sticky with sweat, mind drunk amongst the depth of your post coital chat. Neither of you really minded that just bellow the thin cover, both your bodies were dirtied in the best way possible as he held you close to his chest. You spilled your heart and soul to which he reciprocated with everything he got, every secret he held, even the most intimate that had never taken a breath before that night. With each graze of your index along his soft skin, he felt himself sink further into this reality where only you and him exist. The money, being CEO, the pain of the past, none of those things matter when in this moment he had you safely by his side.
God how he wishes to be able to call out to you just one more time. He just wants to hear the delight in your voice when you answer, the sparks in your eyes, the way your lips curve up without you even needing to command them to at his utterance of a simple “baby”. It’s such a simple wish. He’s not asking to be immortal or to be forever rich, he’s only asking for his baby girl back. Why couldn’t the universe just grant him this one simple wish. What good is all of his money and power for if he can’t even keep you safe and by his side.
Just then, anguish in all the empty wishing upon millions of stars, he suddenly found another emotion coursing through his vein. An emotion so primal that perhaps he could argue it was born when man was created - anger. Out of the corner of his eyes appear the source of all his unpleasantness, like a predator, with a growl, he pounces on his prey.
“Hanbin, What the fuc-”
Before the tall boy could say anything, Hanbin already had him by the collar. Dragging Hyunwoo toward the staircases, Hanbin ignores the fact that Hyunwoo has several inches over himself, that his body packing way more muscles, that if he really wanted to, Hyunwoo could put him down with one punch. He left behind a young woman, very pretty Hanbin had to admit, although nowhere near your beauty. Panic stricken on her previously content features, dainty hand covering her mouth in pure shock. Her other hand grasping onto Hyunwoo desperately, lips whispering his name like a prayer. With all his might, Hyunwoo yanks away pressing a soft kiss onto the sun kissed skin of her cheek before grinning as if to let her know it was okay. She nods in return, eyes near tearing at this point but she stepped back, letting go of the needy grasp on his arm. Hyunwoo once again let Hanbin drags him off to a secluded corner before feeling himself being slam against the wall.
“She’s dying in the hospital yet you’re oversea, flirting with some girl. I thought you were better than this Hyunwoo.” He rages, wishing he could pummel the shit out of the cheater. He gave up his whole life, whole world so you and Hyunwoo could have another shot at happiness. Yet here the bastard was, smiling, arm in arm with someone else. He wonders if the girl even knew the man she’s so affectionately snuggling up to has a girlfriend, immobile all alone in the hospital bed. Or maybe she just doesn’t care.
“What in the world are you saying, Hanbin. I don’t understand.” Baffles, all Hyunwoo could do is stammers in confusion. If it wasn’t for the hand he has against Hanbin’s chest pushing him away, Hyunwoo was sure he’d soon pass out from the constricting hands Hanbin has on the collar of his shirt.
“Don’t play dumb, asshole. I didn’t break up with her so you can treat her like shit. How could you hurt her like that.” Hanbin seethes at Hyunwoo’s apparent ignorant. No longer were blood coursing through his veins but rather boiling hot magma. Hanbin could feel every inch of his body going numb from the heat of rage and no one can stop him now.
“HANBIN. how dare you.” Hyunwoo snarls back at the ridiculous accusation. He had remained un-bias up till this point. He could understand why Hanbin decided on such stupidity. It’s action of a fool so deep in love he has gone borderline irrational. The hidden rage was well masked by an unsettling calmness he didn’t even think he could keep up with. After all, how could he not feel the slightest tinge of fury when he practically watched his best friend break down, reduced to a mere shell without a soul by an idiot that claimed to love her.
“I could ask you the same thing. You broke her heart and left her on the side of the road like yesterday news. I was there for her the past two months. Where the hell were you?” a strong prod from Hyunwoo’s finger found itself onto Hanbin’s chest, no doubt marking it with all the bitterness Hyunwoo felt watching you cried. “You think you’re a saint now that you “sacrifice” your relationship? Please, give me a break. I’m starting to think I made a mistake telling her to fight for you.” Hyunwoo shoves the angry man in front of him off , not even realizing how much strength he was exerting out of pure discomfort from having heard such preposterous things being said about himself. Nothing could make your usually calm and collect teddy bear happier now than landing a fist right across Hanbin’s face but he knew you wouldn’t like it so two months worth of pent up frustration went onto the wall behind Hanbin’s head instead. He had been siding with Hanbin for so long that he forgotten about the first reaction, the first emotion he had seeing you slumped over on your front door step that night. Pure white hot rage. “You shitty ass excuse for a boyfriend. Are you even a fucking man? You broke her heart but you couldn’t see her off properly? You couldn’t even take her home yourself? You had your assistant dragged her away like trash? Not even a goddamn proper explanation. Give me one reason right now to not kill you.” Hyunwoo had never been more glad for his grand stature than now as he hover over Hanbin with all the intimidation he could musters up.
Fist shaking in the air, Hanbin’s anger manifests itself before his senses overcome, dropping the would be punch out of confusion at the strange sentence. Letting his rival off, Hyunwoo backs away, brows furrow in an effort to decipher the expression on Hanbin’s face.
“Wait. What do you mean you told her to fight for me?”
“The girl was dying over missing you, dumbass. She kept questioning herself, saying that she wasn’t good enough. She thinks you were over her and uses me as an escape plan. Don’t make me regret all those night I spent convincing her that you still love her.”
Dumbfounded, Hanbin crashes his weight onto the railing of the cold metal staircase. Both men stood there in silent, nothing but panting could be heard as they both try their best to collect themselves. Clearly, a big misunderstanding is afoot and neither of them are stupid enough to not realize so. Hyunwoo watches as Hanbin murmurs like a madman incoherent jumbles of “but she said” and “no, that’s not right” before he cuts him off, shaking his shoulders to snap him back to reality.
“Listen to me, she fucking wants you. Not me. We spent two months together, every single night. Every oversea trip I took, she was right there in the hotel room with nothing but thin air separating our bodies. Trust me when I say if there is something between us, it would’ve happen already.” Hyunwoo sighs. How could he not have seen this, it’s so you to pull some sort of stun like this. He leans back, shoulders resting against the cold wall feeling the exhaustion of the day pouring out. “I’ve moved on, Hanbin. That girl you’re accusing me of cheating on Y/n with, her name is Ella. She has been my personal assistant for the past 2 years, ever since I got promoted. She was the first person I had truly loved after Y/n but you know, moving on from someone like Y/n is a hell of a fucking feat.” He chuckles at the way your eyes sparks with delight when you realized the way Hyunwoo look at Ella, the same stare you felt all those years ago. He near had to throw you over his shoulders and run away when you had threaten to spill his secret after he failed to confess for the 3rd time. “She has been helping me making a move on her for a good month now. They actually had became pretty good friends. I get so scare every time they hide in the corner and giggling about lord knows what. God know where I’d be if she hadn’t pep talked me the whole way through. Before I left, she schemed a plan for me and it worked. I’m with Ella, Hanbin. We’re official. I have a girlfriend and it’s not Y/n.” Hyunwoo’s visage finally soften at the sheer utter shock breaking upon Hanbin’s pale face like dawn over a new day.
“WHAT?! but the way you talked about her that one time we met. Even that first time we saw you…” Hanbin could remembers that night clear at day. He had always felt guilty for swooping in on your vulnerable state but that night, that night was the last crack in his iceberg of selfishness. Hyunwoo stood there, stoic and silent but behind those kind droopy eyes, Hanbin could see a man in pain. A man that just witness his could be wife walked off with another man. What he couldn’t predict was the fact that Hyunwoo had been struggling with moving on for so long that in a rush of relief and nostalgia, he suddenly found himself lost. Lost in the flurry of the past, in the pain, and in guilts. All 3 years worth of emotion suddenly flushed back mixing with the pain of leaving and the guilt of moving on. Hyunwoo cried tears of what, he didn’t even know. All he knew was his heart was finally light watching the genuine smile on your face as you stared into Hanbin’s eyes. He knew Hanbin is your endgame.
“We spent 3 years together as a couple, there will always residual feelings, nostalgia. Nothing will ever take that away. She was once my whole life and I was hers. Do you really think we could ever get rid of such important people in our lives just with the ticks of time? We still love each other…” Hyunwoo mulls over the word carefully, watching the way Hanbin’s expression twists up in pain, elated that his words affect the poor boy greatly. Not in a menacing way, of course, just in a way to see if this man in front of him is really worth your time and love. If he ever had doubts about Hanbin’s love for you, this anguish emanating from the ghost pale boy upon hearing the sentence “we still love each other” would be enough to dispel it all. If he even has any doubt to begin with. “…just not in the way you think we do. You don’t even know how glad I was to know she has you. You treated her million time better than I could ever have, ever will. You need to get over this true love bullshit. We’re not five watching Disney movies anymore. Happily ever after is what you make with the person you love, the person that love you. It’s not some ultimate god given will, alright? I thought Y/n was my heaven sent piece of forever but look at where we are. Ella is my forever now and you’re Y/n’s. Don’t fuck it up. Hyunwoo stares at Hanbin with those soft understanding eyes although to outsider, the way he’s raking his rough hand through his perfectly made hair would say otherwise. “I couldn’t admit to myself that I’ve moved on. I couldn’t bring myself to accept that I love someone other than her but Y/n, she has her way of bringing closure to everything. Judging from your tormented state, she did it to you too, didn’t she?”
“She wrote me a letter. Wishing me well and pretty much said you two got b-back together.” Even saying it now pains Hanbin. Sure he had seen you snuggled up to Hyunwoo back in the days of his secret one sided crush. He’d smile every time you pressed a gentle kiss on Hyunwoo’s cheek, hoping someday he’ll be lucky enough to meet someone that’s never ashamed of showing her love so publicly. Deep down, he knew he had already met that person, just at a very wrong time. He was disappointed of course but what could he have done. You’ve been with Hyunwoo for almost 3 years when you bulldozed him over onto the cold pavement. Sometimes he had wondered what would happened if that fateful day just 3 years earlier. Now, now that he had a taste of how wonderful, how gloriously addicting your love could be, just the thought of Hyunwoo comforting you burns every millimeter of his body.
“She’s lying. She’s been miserable as hell. What funny is she actually think she could hide it from me, puts up a happy front. I could give her temporary comfort but long term, it’s all you man. Whatever it is you did that makes her think she has no chance of getting back with you. I don’t care what it is but if she lies, she did it so you’re not burden with the weight of knowing she’s hurting over missing you. I’ve been dropping her off at your work and picking her up for awhile now. I never thought she’d put herself in harm way like that. I’ve been oversea on a business trip for over a week now so I told her not to go by herself but she didn’t listen. Stubborn as a bull, that one is.” Hyunwoo’s words trail off at the thought of your steel liked mind and judging from the small chuckle falling off of Hanbin’s lips, he agrees. “My other assistant told me she’s in the hospital. I was ready to fly back, dropped all my meeting actually, but I was informed she’s in very good hands.”
At this, Hyunwoo place a firm squeeze on Hanbin’s shoulder with a small understanding smile. Hanbin cards through his hair, blaming himself for being so stupid as to not see through your lies. It’s so you to pull a stunt like that. You had always put him before yourself.
“God… What the fuck is happening, man. I, I just don’t understand how she could pushed herself that far off the edge. If I hadn’t followed her that day…”
“But you did. And you caught her. Like always, you caught her when she needed you most. That’s what important. Look, I know the kind of person you are. You don’t do things without reason. And while I appreciate your concern for my love life, you really should’ve talk to both of us before sending her away like that. You know how she is, man. She’d rather sacrifice herself than have harm comes our ways. That’s her biggest flaw to be honest, she’s too kind to us shitty men.” Hanbin nods in agreement, sniffles grew loud in the relief the clear of all the storm clouds that had been plaguing his mind for much too long.
“I fucked up really bad, Hyunwoo. I don’t know if I can make things right. God, I wish I ran into you sooner.”
“Do right by her. Start over and beg for forgiveness. She been through enough, it’s time for her to be happy. We’ve both fucked up her life majorly. I missed my chance of making things right years ago but you still got plenty of time. I really want to thank you, for taking care of her after I left. I haven’t seen her so happy talking about anyone in such a long time.” He wasn’t lying. Hyunwoo knows better than to compare the love you have for Hanbin to the love you had for himself. Yet he still has to man up and admits that Hanbin is really your happiness from the way your eyes sparkles recalling all the good time.
“A fair warning. She’s not exactly herself lately so she will give you a hard time especially if she misunderstand your intention but persevere. Go to her, she needs you.” Using the line of text that Hanbin used to send Hyunwoo your way, Hyunwoo finally got his chance to repay your love and kindness by sending Hanbin back into your arms. Walking away with a deeper understanding of each other, Hanbin and Hyunwoo spent hours that night talking about the delights you brought to their lives. How someone so small could impacted their lives in such monumental ways. They talk well into the morning, all the way till Hanbin got the call he had been anticipating.
“Hanbin ah, she’s awake!” His mom excitingly exclaiming over and over again through the phone. Hanbin couldn’t believe what he was hearing. First Hyunwoo gave him the best course of action of his life and now you’re awake. He feels like he had just won the lottery 3 times over. Both men of your life broke down into tears at the wonderful news, overjoy that you were back in their lives once more. Hyunwoo parts way but not without a giant hug to which Hanbin more than welcome.
“Alright, I better check on Ella. She got so freaked out when you dragged me off.” Hyunwoo lingers at the doorway, basking in light of the newly formed friendship.
“Tell her I’m so sorry and I’ll make it up to you both. You know, you better save me a seat at your wedding. The way you gushed about her for the past 4 hours, I can already hear wedding bells.” Hanbin jokes with a supporting slap to Hyunwoo’s broad shoulder. Elates in the way the older boys blushing so intensely at the thought.
“You know what, I better be freaking best man at yours and Y/n’s. I mean, I think I had a pretty big part in this future holy matrimony, don’t you think? At least godfather to your first born? Yes?” Hyunwoo retorts sassily, earning a big shove from Hanbin as he saunters off down the winding hallway.
“Yea, yea. Get back to your lady before she thinks I killed you. Goodnight.”
“Goodnight and good luck!” Both men wave each other off into their love ventures, hopeful that no matter the process, only happy endings await especially with the gain of a new friend in each other.
Awaken cold and alone, you summon all your strength into a futile attempt of sitting up only to come crashing down moments later. The loud thud stirs awake a sleepy Mrs. Kim slumping in the couch still hold the scent of her son whom spent nights wasting away to that rhythmic beeps. You grunt loudly, fingers move to yank away the constricting wire in a daze of confusion. Why were you attach to so many things, where the hell is this place. Your whimpers and whines grow loud as frustration settles in. Tears breaching the brim of your eyes, you nearly scream when a small gentle hand comes to caress your nappy locks.
“It’s okay… You’re safe. You’re safe.”
His mom repeats the small chant, each word eats at your nervous heart and unsettling mind until your hands drop away willingly, letting her soft dainty hand put everything back in place.
“Mrs. Kim? Wh- How?”
“None of that matter right now, okay? Rest and get healthy. My pretty daughter shouldn’t worry about anything right now. Focus on getting better.”
“I-” You couldn’t even get a single syllable out before the soft shushing of a concern mother hushes your anxiety back to sleep.
“Shh. Rest, I’m going to get the doctor okay?”
You nod, feeling the steel weight of your lids closing down on your vision… Whatever, however you get here will have to wait.
The second he landed, Hanbin mind tunneling in on the fastest route back to you. Knowing your heart, he can now confidently open his arms to embrace you back in his life. Nearly knocking over every person in the usually cold drab path that suddenly doesn’t seems so cold anymore. That stale yellow wall lining the way to his temporary home seems to be bursting with sunshine as he storms into your room with a loud bang of the door to only find it empty. Tottering toward the vacant bed, his lost eyes could still make out the hospital bag Lily and Jane had packed for you beside the nightstand. You’re definitely still here. The sun shining joyously matching his mood as he runs a hand over the bundled up blanket draping precariously over the edge, pulling it neatly back to where it should be. The sun’s rays dance upon the room, giving it a big burst of colorful joy to the usual quiet room. Set on his way to find you, his footsteps halt as the disheartening sight of a twinkle of gold caught his eyes. You were nowhere to be found but the necklace holding your ring left behind, lonely on the night stand.
Speeding back into the hallway, he clutches the ring close to his heart hoping you were just wandering around nearby. He suddenly finds himself smiling at the strange habit of yours, always wandering off the second he turns his back. He could still remember all the panic he had the first few months of being with you when one second you were clinging onto his hand, the next disappeared into thin air. Growing up as the heir to a big enterprise, he had always been taught to be cautious, to be aware so needless to say the carefree spirit you possess to think it was completely normal to jog down the street to pet a dog without a care in the world isn’t something he was used to. He’d always get worried sick but never angry with you, just sigh in relief the second he spotted your figure hovering over someone’s dog or staring into a cafe to check the menu.
A few minutes of frantically searching, his eyes soften at the familiar back and tousles of messy hair in the distance soaking in the warmth of the sun. Steps slowed down, he carefully approaches, mulling over his opening line with great care because honestly, this could be the happiest day of his life or the day where he loses you all over again. Sitting down onto the next seat, he couldn’t help but fidget with a strange sense of, of something so familiar yet he couldn’t figure out what. The way your features glow in the light takes his breath away, so much so that the souring taste of acid reflux from being so uncomfortable to think that he needs to brainstorm before talking to you was being wash away completely. Since when did he ever needs a filter to talk to you, the one person that will accept all his words no matter how silly or how philosophically profound they might be. Oh, that’s right, since the day he threw you away like trash but right now, right now he can’t take his eyes off of you even if you’re just wearing the simple hospital gown. As if he had seen an angel, he forgets about the entire world, lost in the familiarity of your features. Smiling like an idiot, the flutters of your eyelashes with each blink mesmerize him into a trance. How cute are the rosy pink cheeks, bitten by the cold. The way you purse your lips entrap him, leaving him wondering what you were thinking about. After spending so long staring at you sleep, he’s overjoy even with just watching you space out.
“I tried to leave, but they said without your permission they can’t give me the release form…”
You speak up so unexpectedly, startles the lovesick boy out of his reverie. Catching himself drooling over you, he clears his throat before humming out a quiet answer.
“hmm, they informed me of your transfer request.”
“They won’t even let me do that… unless I can pay for the fee in full amount. I didn’t think you were this kind of person, Hanbin.” Your voice firm, unwavering yet your mind a mess from forcing yourself to speak so coldly to the man you love, the man that’s having your heart hammering so hard he probably already figured you out by now. Finally facing his way, the aloofness so prominent on your face scares him. He was so ecstatic, delirious with joy that he had forgotten about Hyunwoo’s warning of just how you might react even if you still love him. Needless to say the cold in your voice shocks him to bits.
“Using money to keep me hostage. You know damn well I can’t pay the fee. Why’d you even bring me to this fancy ass place for? just leave me in one of those cheap clinic.” You press on but wary of the surrounding, scare of making a scene of who might be listening in. The last thing you want is for Hanbin’s image to be tarnish because you cause a scene out of fake spite for him.
“Don’t you dare say that. You deserve the best treatment in the world. You have all my asset at your disposal. Wha-Why would you say such a thing.” He blurts out, stuns, incredulous at your ridiculous statement, almost even a bit angry that you’d think he’d abandon you so carelessly. How could you possibly think so poisonously when his intention is purely because he’s care. He had began to reach out for your tear stained rosy cheek when your glare made him understood his touch was no longer welcome. Sadden, he cowers back in his seat and his hand painfully returns to his lap.
“What do you care…” He flinches once again at how flat and cold your voice had become. Where was that sweet like honey voice he loves so much. Where were those fresh, crisp laugh that reminds him of a spring morning. Who is this person so disdainful sitting in front of him, criticizing all his action that he had done out of nothing but pure love. His mind spins so fast Hanbin was getting dizzy from adjusting to this new you that he wasn’t sure he wants to get use to.
“I care a lot. I care because I love you. You’re mi- uhm, you were mine, you were my baby. You’re still my friend. We were friends even before we were together for god’s sake. Why wouldn’t I care?” Addressing you in past tense is something Hanbin never got used to. In fact, he resists with all his might to get used to it. He was still referring to you as his girlfriend even well into the 3rd week of the break up. Every now and then he’d temporary forget, letting himself get lost in this carefree pocket of life and calling out your name only to have it echoed dejectedly around an empty house.
“Love” you scoff at the ridiculous sentiment. “Bit late for that, don’t you think?” Before he could say anything else, the gentle voice of your attending nurse cuts off his torture.
“Miss Y/n, let’s go get your lungs check up.”
With a small smile, you roll your IV pole away, leaving him stammering like an idiot at your pure coldness. Having rushed home so quickly, he barely had anytime to anticipate how you would react. He knew it was wrong to use the hospital authority, to use money to force your hand but he was so scared. Scared that you would leave the second you wake up. Scared that you would scurried back into the night, leaving him lost. After all, Hyunwoo had just told him the night before you were planning on moving away, out of his reach. He knows once you’re out of that apartment, he has no tie to your life, no way of reaching out to you. You’d be lost forever in the universe.
Following the gentle-voiced nurse, you swing your head slightly back at his direction, stealing a few glances of the handsome boy you’ve been dying receive affection from. Indisputably glowing under the soft winter sun even in simple black sweatpants, t-shirt, and the leather jacket that, tho he rarely wears it, used to drive you absolutely bonkers when he did. Elbows resting on his knees, he buries his face deep within the palms, fingertips rubbing gently at his hairline, you couldn’t help but feel a twinge of pain spreading through your chest and it wasn’t because of your illness. You secretly wish you would just stay sick a bit longer, that way you can keep him for yourself just for a bit more. You bit your lips to force the regret of not falling into his arms threatening to vomit out of your heart back in.
Waiting patiently in the small armchair beside your bed, he couldn’t help but feel his heart clenches at the image of the ring laying carelessly on the night stand. Never once did he sees you without it until that night he so ruthlessly slipped it off your finger despite your protest. In a way, Hanbin knows he deserve all of this but he couldn’t help but pray to all the Gods that you’d be the kind hearted girlfriend he loves. Staring at his own worn out ring on his finger, the thought of the two rings that should be occupy your finger remain ownerless plague his mind like the worst kind of storm. Spinning it around his finger, his mind races against time, steaming to figure out how he could get you to talk to him. The sudden sound of the metal lock shock him out of his own thought, leaving him smiling at your emerging self.
“You’re back!” A bright smile greets you first thing through the door and you could feel your icy heart melting.
“Yea, like I can go anywhere else.” Although feeling like an ass, you needed to do it for yourself. He has someone new, giving into his affection would just mess you up further when he leaves.
“What did the doctor say. How’s your lungs?” anxious vexes on his face, stomach stirring at the thought that you’re unwell then at the though that you were leaving him soon if you’re well.
“Uhm, no fluid so it’s good.” an awkward smile creeps onto your lips and you just feel strange. You were so used to just crashing into his arm coming back from doctor appointment and he’d just welcome you with no question ask. He knew how much you hated doctor, hated hospital and if him just holding you could replace all the discomfort stem from it then hold your for days he will. He’d waste a whole day just snuggling up close to his chest whenever you were sick. Although according to Hanbin, it’s not wasted if it’s something done out of love. You need that so bad right now but it’s as though there’s a big invisible wall in between you both.
“Tha-that’s good! That’s really good, you can leave soon then.”
If you didn’t know any better, you could swear he sounds disappointed? Must be a trick your lonely heart played, how could he be disappointed, after hall he pushed you away and got himself a new woman.
Although the good news relieves all his pain, all his worries, he couldn’t help but face the reality of what will come next. Once you’re out of the hospital, would you still let him stay by your side? Cater to your needs?
“Yea… I guess” you do know better and your answer is definitely laced with disappointment. As you clamber into bed, he holds your arm, fluff your pillows, set up the TV remote so it was within range of your hold. Shyly, he pulls the cover over your body, helping you lay down. Each touch of his fingertips sear into your heart. You could feel it beating again with the force of a volcano ready to explode. Privately in your heart, you let your soul basks in the warmth that shames even the sun’s playful rays emanating from the caring man. You could see the bite on his lower lip, the way he leans up just a smidgen aiming for your forehead but that kiss never came. Instead, He retreats back to his favorite couch pulling out stacks of paper and once again, your hospital room turns into his office.
Eyes on the TV screen, you couldn’t help but peek over every other minute to look at the gorgeous face under the pair of tortoise colored glasses. You had always have a thing for Hanbin and glasses, always wondering what kind of student he was in college, whether he would’ve give you any of his time. Now and then, you would catch him peeking over, using whatever documents he’s holding to appear as inconspicuous as possible, smiling softly at your resting form and giggle at the thought that he thinks he’s slick. Every so often, you would have a cough attack and immediately, Hanbin would be right by your side, offering water, rubbing circle on your back while his wincing face tells you he much he wishes to replace your spot in the hospital bed. If you’re being really honest, you’re drinking up all his attention like a crack on the desert floor after a big rain storm. You couldn’t help but fake cough just to get him close without giving into his attentiveness that’s no doubt chipping at your heart.
By the day end, he had forgotten that it was awkward for him to touch you, to pet your head occasionally while pacing the floor on his phone, taking care of company’s business. Embolden by your lack of refusal, he even slips his index under your chin grazing it affectionately as he used to whenever he thinks that you did something cute. Before you could react, he had already sauntered away, rambling about one thing or another to the person over the phone. Truthfully, you couldn’t be loving the small contacts any more than now knowing maybe after this hospital stay is over so will his affection.
For most part he left you alone, fearing any action, even meaningless one would push you away. He already feels so blessed to be able to work in the same room with you without being smite by your spiteful words, to just being able to watch you from afar. He should be used to this as he had watched you for so long before he got to call you his girlfriend but in reality, it’s so hard now that he had a taste of what life really is like being your everything.
Time seems to past painstakingly slow when the only person able to distract you from the cough and the boredom on staring at the same four walls is the same person your pride won’t allow you to be friend with. Staring at your dashing roommate, you wish things were the way it was. Instead of distancing himself on the lonely couch, he’d be tuck into bed right by your side. He’d shower you with kisses the second your eyes open, petting your hair, holding your hands. Instead, all you get now is a few glances he’d steal whenever he thinks you’re not paying attention. Being Hanbin’s girlfriend was easy. He’s attentive when it comes to catering to whatever your desire be. If you wanted hug, he could be working on super important document and still let you cling onto his back. Now, even though your body uneasy, feeling like there’s electricity running through every vein, itching for his touch, you can’t even ask for it. You wish he’d just go to sleep but knowing him, sleep time would be closer to sunrise than sunset. Sighing loudly, you return your gaze to the mindless show on TV.
Luck seems to be on your side tonight as not even 5 minutes past midnight, Hanbin weary self had slumped over on the couch, snoring away softly. Waiting another half hour to be safe, you softly creep off your bed and silently make your way to him. The way his eyes twitches, lips slightly part, arm drapes across his forehead, hand holding onto his glasses precariously, everything about him was still so perfect. Allowing yourself to get lost in the past, your fingers reach out hesitantly to trace his nose ridge down to his jawline. You lost count of how many times he’d get so hyped up to watch a movie but always ended up slumbering through most of it out of sheer exhaustion from work with his head on your lap. You’d always just watched the gentle rise and fall of his chest while letting your fingers tangled in his soft locks. He loved the small little shivers you sent through his body from just something as simple as petting his hair.
Moving further down, your hand rest easy flat upon his chest, soaking in his beating heart. A small tear trail down your cheek as you timidly press a small kiss onto his stilled lips, wishing he’d wake up and kiss you back. You carefully peel his fingers away from his glasses and the stack of paper still tightly clung, settling them down onto the desk. Pulling a spare blanket from the closet, you encase his body into the soft material before allowing yourself to steal another kiss, on his forehead this time. A soft moan tear you away from your day dream, sending your body scurrying back to the large bed to avoid confrontation in case he wakes up.
The loud clank of the remote hitting the floor shocks Hanbin out of his work trance. Glancing up, he chuckles at your attempt to fish the remote without getting out of bed. Currently draping yourself, half hanging off the bed, you sigh out a frustrated “ayyye” before your prince once again, abandon work just to entertain your little needs.
“Hmm… sorry…” You whisper timidly, finger quick to push a messy strand of hair behind your ear to peek at your loving prince. You were blushing so intensely when he flashes his dimple that you wonder if he had just figured out you’re only putting on a tough front with him. Judging from the way his hand purposely brushing against yours while placing the remote back in your hand, you would say that option weren’t too far-fetch. God, the way his smile lingers a bit too long on his lips reduces you to a melting puddle of mess. You’d be giggling like a school girl too if it had not been for the battle against yourself to put up a tough exterior, a battle that you can feel you’re slowly losing grip on.
“Was I too loud? I’ll move all my work stuff back to my office tomorrow morning. I know you need rest, it’s getting pretty late too.”
You sit silently for a minute, staring at those loving brown eyes. You wish for nothing more but for him to stay close by but that would be too selfish. He has someone new and you were just pulling him back into some confuse crazy whirlwind. Why couldn’t you just be strong, yell at him or get angry. That way he could just walk away without feeling guilty. Sensing that everything is less than okay, Hanbin backs away slowly, retreating to his couch before cleaning everything up in a flurry. His heart aches. He had thought you were finally begin to seek comfort with him once again but looks like he gave himself false hope. Sniffling quietly, he chuckles out of the amusement of how easily he thought you’d let him back into your life. After the stunt he had pulled, did he really expect for you to welcome him back with open arms? He questions himself, nearing the brink of tear but he silences himself. Little did he knows, all his movement scrutinize to the extreme with a fine toothed comb by your eyes.
If he had moved on, why does it looks like he’s less than thrill to leave?
Lord knows what comes over you the next second but whatever it was, it lifts Hanbin’s hope greatly.
“Stay…” You speak up softly, biting your lips, mulling over whether this really was the right thing to do. “…If you want. It does get lonely here by myself.”
“You sure?” He asks and immediately regretting giving you an option to back out of the offer.
“Yea. Stay! It’s kinda too quiet in the morning when you leave for work… I could use the company.” You speak again, more confident this time as he moves closer to your side. A soft smile plays across his lips before he did something so unexpected it hurts even more than your aching lungs. He kisses you and you couldn’t bring yourself to reject the act of love you’ve craved for so long. You had always loved being kiss by Hanbin. He leans into it so delicately it almost felt unreal. Your quivering lips stay still, mulling over the taste of his lips, horrify at how foreign everything feels. Fear runs deep through your spine, how could his kiss feels so strangely distant already after only a mere few months. By no mean it was foreign because of the taste, or how they feel moulding against yours. It wasn’t the fact that he’s so awkwardly stilled instead of grabbing at any part of your body he could nor was he deepening the kiss as he should. It was the fact that the kiss wasn’t the same happy ones you two shared countless times through out your wonderful time together, the one you’d ask for without any reason and he’d give you without questioning. A shiver shoots through every cell of your body at the thought of how far away he’d be after a year.
Although brave enough to finally take his chance, he could barely move fearing you’d refuse him at the slightest movement. He stands there with his arms awkwardly hang loose on his sides, back aching from the strange angle he had found himself bending over to be close to you yet he’d die before he breaks contact with your lips, his drug. Unexpectedly, your lips part way allowing his wavering nerve to push his lower lips in between your cracked ones, a soft satisfying moan fills the room. If he has to tally up all his luck, he’d say today would be the luckiest day of his life as your hand reluctantly reaches out to grasp onto his shirt, balling it up in your closed fist. Taking his chance, he edges himself onto your bed, newfound conviction coursing through his veins. You let your hand wanders onto his chest, caressing the body you had missed terribly to hold for the last few months. Even with his tongue plunging deep within your mouth now, his hands still unsure of where they’d be allow so he decided to simply rest it on your thighs. Sensing his hesitation, you trail your fingers up across his collar bones, wrapping firmly at the nape of his neck before pushing deep into his hair gratifying all his senses just the way he had been missing.
“Hanbin…”
You whisper so quietly that he was scared he heard you wrong but all his doubt thrown out the window the moment he feels your chest pressing closer to his, desperate to deepen the connection. Breaking away for a second just to get a good look at the face of his love, he grins satisfyingly at your blown out pupils and how your face looks so blissful it almost resembles the mess he used to left you after a long session of love making. He basks in the pride of still being able to captivate you with just his lips even after all this time. His hands rest easy on your hips, pulling you squarely onto his lap without much resistant.
“Hmm, baby… I miss you.”
He sighs onto your lips, taking his chance before you snap out of whatever high you’re on that let him kiss you in the first place. Humming in reply, you have your arms around his torso now, tighten behind his back as he cups your cheeks with both hands. He pulls you closer, as if that was even possible at this point and you acquiesce in his action, nudging your body against his. You could feel all the tension in your heartstrings loosen. One hand slowly trailing along the curve of your spine, Hanbin somehow manages to raise all your hair on its ends as he twist and turn, attempting to exploit every bit of your vulnerability. He knows it’s wrong to take advantage of your confused heart but he couldn’t care. He was far too desperate to stop and your lack of refusal only embolden his venture.
“I miss you too…”
Once again you were Hanbin’s girl. You feel his love permeates from his heart through the kiss and you only see him. You were ready to let go, to let him have his way with you, to be love one more time.
Just when everything begins to feel right, the ugly thought of the angel liked girl giggling her way into your brain forcing your eyes open. He was still deep, lost within your kiss with his eyes shut tightly, a few tears dotting his long lashes. You push him off with all your might, sending yourself tumbling backward on to the bed. He sits there in shock, in pain, mouth gapes wide open for anyone to see before he could even realize what was happening, his hands already reaching out to encase you in his embrace once more. To his dismay, you reject it with all your strength. He couldn’t believe it. His happiness is being rip away once again and he can’t do anything to stop it. It was inevitable, he knows that much but he wishes it wasn’t so soon.
“No. No. How could you?” You exasperate, tears welling up.
“Baby… Please don’t be like this. I know I messed up” His trepidation grows at your painful expression. Had he gone too far? His heart felt like it was the right thing to do. You kissed him back but what went wrong? His hands reach out for you but painfully you flinch backward instead.
“Messed up?” You groan with disgust. “Hanbin you dumped me, in case you forgot. There’s nothing between us anymore. I really think you should stop calling me that… wouldn’t your girl mind? If she doesn’t then I’m pretty sure she would mind that kiss. Goddamn it, Hanbin, I don’t want to be the bad guy here.” You whine. The thought of hurting another person like an arrow through your heart. How would she feels if she had found out he spent the last three days camped in his ex’s hospital room. The pain she’ll go through would be unbearable when she finds out you made out with her man. Her man. Even thinking about that hurts.
“Babe… please don’t think about me like that. I’m loyal to only you, that girl you saw, she’s just a friend. We’ve been friend for awhile and she was visiting from Europe. I haven’t seen her since before we got together. We were just on our way to dinner and, and I didn’t want her to see me so miserable so I pretended. I’ve read your letter. You misunderstood, baby. Please.”
“The way you held her…” You croak painfully, shutting your eyes so forcefully tears spilling over from the thought of his arm around her shoulder warmed from his jacket.
“Is nothing compare to the way I used to hold you, still want to hold you. Baby, out of everyone you should know that the best.”
Frustrated at the thought that you would think he’d betray you in such way so shortly after the breakup, he walks off toward the window, stopping short of just jumping out of it to hide away. Discontent taut on his forehead as his brows furrow. He just couldn’t believe you’d think of him in such a light. Sure he expects you to hate him, to slap or kick him in the nuts but to accuse him of being unfaithful is something that he can’t accept.
Full of regret, you hide away in the safety of your blanket. You were careless. So careless that you hadn’t even consider the possibility he has his own version of Hyunwoo. Not once did he gets angry with you for spending time with your ex yet here you laid, accusing the man that had given you everything, getting jealous that he was happy without you.
Even though it hurts, he knows ultimately this was all his doing. He has no right to be mad, to be annoyed at your discord with his action but he can’t help it. To him, you were never truly gone. At the same time he understands as he not even a week ago picked a fight with your gentle bear best friend out of frustration, of misunderstanding, but also very much out of jealousy.
“Baby… look at me, please. I love you, so so much. I know I don’t deserve you after the way I shunned you off. You have every right to be mad at me, hate me. But please, don’t think I would ever betray your love. What about that kiss that one night…Doesn’t that mean anything?”
“What? I- But you were sleeping. You can’t- No how is it possible?”
“I learned to be alert even in my sleep after the first night spending here watching you. I had to be aware, to be here when you wake up so i changed my sleep habit I guess. The thought of you waking up in confusion laying in a strange room, a hospital room at that… I couldn’t let that happen.”
His heart aches at your shivering form under the blanket. The way your body curls up so small as if you wish you could just disappear from the room.
“It doesn’t matter, Hanbin. We’ve broken up… you’re free…free to do whatever you please, whoever you please. Don’t think you need to explain yourself to me.”
“No, we… we. I don’t want us to end. I never wanted us to end. God what I would give to take all your pain away.”
“But you can’t. We all have things we want but life doesn’t work that way. You’re finally happy again, take it, hold it close and don’t let go.” your words feeble through your tear and the weakness of your own heart.
“Happy? You think I’m happy without you? God, baby. I’m miserable. I’m insufferable to everyone around me. The happiest thing that happened to me the past two months was seeing you wait so patiently for me everyday like the good girl you are even when you know I won’t talk to you. Do you even know what that does to me? I’ve watch and re-watched the security footage of you sitting at that bench so many time i’ve lost track. When you’re not there, i’d go and sit where you would sit, imagining your body, soaking in your present. I wanted to die without you.” He vexes hoping to convey how painful it was to watch you but couldn’t touch you, knowing that you were waiting but he can’t relent to his temptation of meeting you.
You sit up with such force you could feel the whiplash liked creak in your neck. Blanket flings off in a flurry of anger, you roughly shove your hand through your hair, nearly ripping off every strand.
“Then why the fuck did you left me huh? Out of all those days, all you had to do was smile at me but GOD. The first time I saw you smile in months, it wasn’t for me, it wasn’t because of me. It was her. All you had to do was hug me, Hanbin and I would’ve given you everything. But instead you left me there, in the cold.” Your words choke in your throat as if warning you to stop before it’s too late, before they leaves you wallow in regret from pushing the love of your life too far. “ Why am I even here, huh? All those days I was crying on my own, all I wanted was a simple hug, something to acknowledge my presence but I couldn’t even get that. You know how ridiculous that feel, Hanbin? Here’s a guy that claimed he loves me with all his life, with all his might but I was shivering in the cold on my own, he couldn’t so much as spare me a glance but oh no, it’s wrong for me to assume he had moved on.” You huff in exhaustion, damn all the coughing, damn this illness, damn it all as you clutch your chest from the short heaves of your lungs that barely provide enough oxygen. “ What? You think because you sent a replacement that you’re instantly clear of all charges? How dare you, Kim Hanbin. Playing God with my life like I’m some rag doll for you to mess with. Son Hyunwoo is someone precious to me. How dare you roped him into this sick game of yours. Shoving him my way like some secondhand incentive. He is not a thing for you to mess with. He’s dear to my heart no matter how my relationship had ended with him. I thought you were brave but no. You’re just a damn coward that uses everyone. You were sick of me so you throw me aside, claiming Hyunwoo still loves me. That you, sir, somehow knows my heart better than myself. I did get confuse for a bit… Maybe there’s some truth to your words. Maybe you do know me so I doubted myself. Disgustingly felt sorry that I put you through such a tough situation. How dare you mess with someone’s heart like that. I hate you, Hanbin.”
Your rage boils superficially like a volcano, threatening to explode any second. You no longer care how much tear or snot stream out of your face as your glare at him with the utmost poisonous of eyes. Horror shields those loving eyes of his away from you as he bit his lips shut. He blames himself every second of every day for putting you in that hospital bed. No word could describe the staggering heartbreak he felt seeing you so lifeless, silent amongst the beeping of the machines. He couldn’t believe his ears, his brain can’t for the life of it register the word “hate” coming out of your mouth with such force. Sure you had jokingly said it before but now, now you really do mean it.
“Love me…” You scoff, a mirthless grin flashes on your face and honestly it scares Hanbin. Never once did he knows of such an dark, almost evil look to take root in your features. No, to him you’re not capable of doing any harm, of being mean. This, this has to be the result of the mess he started. It pains him to see bitterness oozes from your every pore knowing it’s all because of him. From the moment he had laid eyes on you, he wishes for nothing more but to protect the sunshine and innocent you possess that’s so different from the rest of his cold and calculated world. Alas, he had lost that battle. “You know, when the light inside a lighthouse break, the keeper would change the lightbulb, tweaks the setting, not replacing the light house. You… You damn went and destroy the whole thing. This, this so called light house, beacon of ‘love’ that you said I had built for you brick by brick. Gone. And you! You’re the one that torn it all down.”
He knew this would happen but no preparation in this world could be enough for this moment. You rip all his breaths, all his words, all his thought away with that agonizing tinge contorting your face into a frown. You were looking at him now, just like he wanted but that heartbreaking sight of your tear make him feels like a helpless little boy standing on the shore being crush by the unimaginable force of an oncoming wave. Clutching his chest, once again like a coward, he runs away in tear leaving you stunned with the loud slam of the door.
“Shit, what did I do.” You sat there helpless watching his back turning away, leaving you to fend for yourself once again. You’ve done it. You’ve finally push him out of your life permanently.
Muttering a soft “No”, you want nothing more but for him to come back, to kiss you again. Like a fool, you lost your chance just because you’re an angry bitter person. Why couldn’t you just hold off on being selfish for one second and just say you love him. Reality come crashing down as the rhythmic beeps of the machine returns with dead air as its companion and the dust of fury had settled. You shed tears now not of frustration but of self pity. You had the best man in the world pinning after you but what did you do? You push him away. Uncontrollable sob and screams pulsate from your lungs and you couldn’t care less who hear. It’s none of their business anyhow.
“It’s okay, Y/n… it’s okay.”
A good minute past before you could register the heat leaking into your pale cold skin and the soft, gentle voice lulling you back down from your high. Your eyes flutter open to find your head resting on Hyunwoo’s strong shoulder as his fingers softly comb through your hair.
“It’s okay, babe. You got it out. You got your anger out. Let it go, don’t hold it back.”
“I messed up, Hyunwoo. H-He…fuck. Hanbin’s not coming back… He told me she was just someone he trusts and I still accused him of moving on. He has every right to move on, Hyunwoo. I…” You yank vexingly at the endless wires and the loose collar of your hospital shirt that suddenly feel all too constricting. “I gotta go find him…” Hyunwoo tighten his hold on your shivering body, soaking away the frustration that’s wrecking your every fibre. It’s useless to even fight the grasp of your gentle bear as he soothes away all your aching with every pass of his hand over your back.
“He will. Trust me. He will but you gotta meet him halfway, babe. You can’t push him away like that. I know he messed up but get over your pride. You want him back. He loves you unconditionally, he won’t look down on you or laugh at you. Just show him you need him. The boy is ready to give you the whole galaxy if you ask for it. The least you could do is give him a chance. If not for him, for yourself. Like you said, you deserve to be happy.”
“I wanted to…” Your eyes falter to the spot he once sat so patiently typing away on his laptop. You heart aches for the sight of him taking a peek at you with a soft smile on his face. He had always looked at you like you’re the only girl in the world but in your tormented twisted mind, you couldn’t see that… Why couldn’t you just see that.
“Look, I’m not taking his side. I’d beat the shit out of him if I could but I know that only hurts you so I’ll just be honest. You think the last two months had been hard on you and I agree. No one should ever feel this pain but let me tell you the side you don’t know. He’s hurting a lot more than you think he is. When we broke up, you had Hanbin constantly catering to your needs…” The slight pause in his comforting tone has your heart twisting up in guilt. For the first time since having your life line reconnected, you really look at Hyunwoo as you did all those years ago. The pain of first love still linger beneath the calm facade and that sad smile of his. Those kind eyes were still the same but perhaps a bit more worn. Those lips, that smile, everything were still so familiar yet so different. You’ve been so selfish with playing the victim that you really had forgotten the other half of this world of pain. You had forgotten to listen. “I was alone, dealing with losing you all on my own and let me tell you this, hurt isn’t even just a word anymore. It’s my being, my breath, my mind, everything hurt. It felt so bad that I was in constant shock over what had happened and honestly, I can’t tell you how many time I got close to dropping everything and running back to you. It’s unfathomable, Y/n, the kind of pain that I felt, Hanbin still feeling, knowing we did this to you. I couldn’t eat, sleep. I secluded myself. Every time I was beginning to feel happy again, guilt, guilt just override everything. The moment I found someone else, I couldn’t help but just think of how miserable you must be. Do you know what kind of relief I got when I saw you clutching onto Hanbin’s arm when I ran into you two on your 2nd anniversary? It’s like torrential downpour on my cracked dry, drought heart. Like the biggest weight got lifted off my chest and I could breathe again knowing you were happy with someone else. For once in my life I could be happy without feeling guilty.”
“I’m sorry…” The one thing that you will never forgive yourself was that you let Hyunwoo dealt with the heartache all on his own. Nights after nights you’d laid awake in bed, imagining what kind of horrifying pain he must’ve felt being in a foreign country all alone dealing with a break up but at the end of the day, you still fell asleep in the warm safe embrace of Hanbin. Hyunwoo on the other hand… You couldn’t even worked up enough courage for an apology.
“No, it’s not your fault. We both decided on parting way and we both felt the pain of it. Sometimes, nobody is at fault…. Life is just cruel. All I’m saying is, be that relief for Hanbin. He’s all alone in that cold office. He’s a lonely man, Y/n. You were always that salvation to his “sad, pathetic life”. His words, not mine.”
“What?” You raise your eyebrows, wincing a bit at the sound of “sad” and “pathetic”. Why would Hanbin says such preposterous thing?
“We ran into each other in Japan and he spent all night just doting over your little quirks. His eyes light up anytime I mentioned your little habits and he’d exclaimed excitingly that you still do those things. There’s a lot of thing he knows about you that you don’t even realize. I know you already know this but the guy, he had been beaten up by this dog eat dog world enough. Let him be happy. He will never be happy again knowing you’re still hurting. If you don’t love him anymore, let him know so he can moves on. But I know you do. He’s your true love, Y/n. I admire the kind of love you two share. Let yourself breathe, babe. Just go. Go and be happy with him.”
With the last words of his well wishing, Hyunwoo gently lift you away from his shoulder and press a soft kiss to your forehead. He was grateful because you brought him happiness, even more now that you had brought him and Ella together even with your own loneliness looming like a big storm. All that needed for his world to be perfect now would be for you to be happy.
“You know what’s funny? He used to say the same thing about our love. He said we inspired him.”
Hyunwoo and you both chuckle at the strange thought that somehow your love inspired Hanbin to pursue you the way he did. Somehow out of all the fuckery life threw at you both, Love grew from the sadness of a broken first love. You sat there in Hyunwoo’s arms for God know how long musing over the strange way life played out, how at one point you were all strangers but now… Now you, Hanbin, Hyunwoo, and Ella all found solace in being an irreplaceable part in each other’s lives.
He wasn’t happy coming back to his company in a chaotic mess but it wasn’t anything Hanbin couldn’t handle. A part of him was thankful for the dire need for overtime as his weary heart can’t take much more emotional trauma. If there’s one thing he learned about this cruel business world is that it’s as cold as a polar bear’s toe is that there would be no need for him to “feel” when dealing with these pesky business ventures.
A pat on the back and a supportive squeeze on the shoulder from his dad signaling the crazy 36 hours overhaul had come to and end. Hanbin sinks down into the large leather chair finding himself wondering what you were doing at this moment, if you were eating well. The small clock on his wall ticks 11:30 PM as he hails a small breath of relief. He had gone straight into the company the second he left your hospital room and hadn’t left since. He barely ate, only shower out of the necessity of looking presentable to the other CEOs. The last two days were just a big blur of stumbling in and out of conference rooms. His eyes grew tired of the same beige wall and set of circular desk and chairs. He misses the calming pastel blue wall of your hospital room. It reminded him of the beach and he wonders if you knew, would you laugh at him for thinking such a weird thought. The slight hum of your bedside humidifier reminds him of the wave crashing the shore. Most of all, he knows just on that bed not too far away from his soft couch laid the brightest sun in his galaxy. He couldn’t help but grin like an idiot at the way your face so shyly sneaking a peek when you think he was too enthralled in his paperwork to notice. He was only partial to the idea of pushing the kiss onto you until he caught your silent school girl giggle one time when he had fumbled a donut onto his documents, twice, cussing at the round chocolate ring obstructing some very crucial numbers. Underneath the brooding tough girl in front of him was still the adorable little Y/n he loves.
It was only now that he realizes the lack of his personal phone as he reaches into his empty pocket to get a glimpse of your picture he still has as his lockscreen background. He had snuck it during an afternoon stroll by the river. Too busy fumbling around with change to pay the street vendor for some shaved ice, he failed to notice you had once again left his side and ran off to a cute herd of puppies. Dessert in hand, he turned around to only met with the empty spot you had excitedly hopping in when he said he’d get you food. He knew better by this point to really worry, instead, eyes searching for what could distract you away from him. When the sight of you squatting in front of three dogs, laughing away without a care caught his eyes, he couldn’t help but captured the way your bright smile seemed to put everything else to shame.
Rushing down to his car, he feels his lungs constricting from the raging adrenaline, the pure needs of seeing your face. Hastily pressing in the passcode, his heart elates to see 4 messages from a number he knows all too well despite having deleted it from his contact.
[3:51 AM] Can we talk?
[3:55 AM] I know you must be sleeping. Sorry… I’m getting discharge soon.
[9:00 AM] It’s okay if you don’t want to. I know the last time we spoke, I wasn’t exactly civil… I just wanted to say a proper goodbye… It’s been over a day since you left and I don’t blame you if you don’t want to see me again. I just want to thank you again, for the best few years and for always being there when I needed most. I realized all I’ve done thus far is yell at you but never once thanked you for rescuing me. God know where I’d be now had it not been for you that day, so thank you.
[6:25 PM] I’m sorry for everything I’ve put you through. Goodbye, love. I wish you the best. I love you, always.
“Fuck” was all he could mutters before tearing out of the parking lot leaving a trail of scorched tire marks on the ground and the unpleasant scent of burnt rubber swirling around the empty lot. Racing down the silent hall, he earned a few ire shush from the nurses but his heart couldn’t be bother. With a scream of your name, he slams the door open only to be meet with compete silent. Eyes tracing every details of the immaculate room, a flutter of the wings of fear settles in his chest. He’s too late. The empty hospital bed neatly made and the mess of a duffle bag you had next to the night stand, gone. The only remnant of you left is the gold glint of the old worn out promises sitting lonely on the night stand.
His weight drops onto the floor as if his life and soul vacated, leaving their meat suit to fend for itself. Stammering “I’m sorry” repeatedly, tears flood the frail face. For the first time since he broke your heart, you truly see how far gone his heart had been. It was easy for you to blame the cold image of the guy that had ordered for your removal from his office but seeing Hanbin now, your Hanbin… You wish for nothing but take all his pain away.
He had torn your heart but at the same time, with his own hand, he pulverized his own. In his bruised chest, a void in place of what used to be a heart. He had done his work now it’s your turn. The sight of him so broken kills you. Softly tip toeing into the room shutting the door gently, small pitter patter make their way to the boy lost in his own black hole. You sit next to him but his eyes, dead, staring into space as if you’re merely a spirit. In that moment, aside from the heavy down pour from his eyes, the rest of him seems to be stuck inside a frozen pocket in time and space.
Suddenly, a sensation so wonderful, so warm radiates from his back. It stays in one spot at first but then glide all over his back, bringing the life back to the cold pale skin. It didn’t stop there. Like a ballerina, it twirls its way upon his shivering shoulders then to the barren face, it was only then he had realized, the girl he loves was trying to save him. You were there with those concern eyes and the small frown he had always thought was so adorable. Your hands upon his body, smoothing and soothing over every crack, every site that had been pricking like needle.
“Shh, Hanbin. Don’t cry, I’m here.”
You speak up so gently you weren’t sure if he had heard right. He had heard but wasn’t sure if this is just another one of the hallucination his mind made up to attempt at healing its host. You’re sitting so close to him, whispering comforting words. Like a person coming out of a coma, his eyes slowly flicker, following the movement of the hand that was now rubbing gently on his chest to ease his ragged breathing.
“I’m here, Hanbin. Don’t cry. Everything will be okay.”
You said it again, he couldn’t believe it. A reluctant hand meet the pink skin of your cheek, caging it while his thumb runs along the pair of lips he had dreamt of so many nights. A smile blooms at the contact of his finger onto your skin and he sighs with relief.
“It really is you… I’m not dreaming, am I?”
“You’re not, babe. I’m here. They needed to clean my room so I went outside to relax. Don’t worry, I’m here, baby.”
Desperately, his arms pull you into his body, nearly topple both of you onto the hard floor but he didn’t care. If he let go now, you would melt away with the wind. Or perhaps much worse, you would go back to the cold, and bitterness of hate, pushing him away. He has to hold you close, to never let go, just like you said he needs to. He had found his happiness once again and hell freezes over before he’d let you go again.
“Please don’t leave me, Y/n. I can’t live without you. I don’t care if I’m being selfish, I don’t care. I need you so bad. Please… I know I hurt you. I know because I was hurting too. I can’t sleep because when I close my eyes, my mind just takes me back to that night. Watching you cry, hearing you call my name, I just couldn’t handle it anymore. I can’t eat because, fuck, how could I eat when I know you’re starving yourself from crying for a useless fool like me. God, I thought I was too late. I’m so sorry. I’m sorry. I didn’t see your text an- and, your lugga- your luggages are gone. Whe- I’m not too late am I? I know you’re angry and everything I’ve done so far is unfair to you, to Hyunwoo. I just, I thought I was… I’m so stupid, baby. You have every right to hate me. It might seems like I can’t make up my mind, pushing you away then asking for another chance, like I’m hurting you on purpose but that’s not what I want to do. I’d much rather spent the last few months cuddle up to you admiring the ring on your beautiful hand than walk through hell. I thought I was letting you have the happiness you deserve. I’m so sorry. I regret everything I said.” He cried out with all the desperation in the world, all the heartbreak every soul on this planet had ever felt, he let it all out.
“Shh, baby it’s okay. I’m not going anywhere, Hanbin. I’m right here. I put my bags away so they could clean the room. I’m not leaving yet. We have plenty of time to talk things out, okay? I’m not angry.” You tried your best to stay strong for him but the wavering of your voice threaten to burst through. You want to cry. Cry because guilt cuts deeper than anything else could. Cry because he was here in your arms once again. Cry because he was begging for you to stay. Cry because you know you will stay.
“Please, Y/n. Please, baby. If I ask you to not to leave me, will you stay? If, if you stay, will you love me again? I just need one chance, just one, I can prove to you…” His thumbs rubbing the tear away from your cold cheeks, eyes latching onto any bit of emotion you were showing through. For once in months you weren’t angry… You were just, well you.
“My idiot Hanbin, I’ve never stop loving you.”
None of your word could relent the neediness of his hands, of his eyes, of his love. Like a child lost in the raging current of life, he clings onto your body like the salvation of a lifeline, the last bit of hope before he drowns in the harshness of it all. Understood, you sit still, head snuggles into the crook of his neck, letting him get high off of you. Arms tighten around his waist, you press a small kiss onto the slender neck, taking in his warmth as he does yours. His hand tangles in your hair, your fingers, your shoulders, your back, everywhere. Your craving of him rattles in its cage like a starving monster with him being so impossibly close that you could hear his heart beat. But right now, you need to put him first, let him have his moment.
A small terrifying gasp left his lungs as you pull away, putting space in between the two hungry bodies.
“No, no, no. Baby, don’t leave. I need more. I need you…”
Fearful that the drought of his heart will no longer be grace with your rain, panic envelops his body. You remain close, sitting still in between his legs. One hand moving onto the dull skin of his cheek, you crack a small smile that eases his weary mind. His begging stop the instant your lips touch his in the most delicate manner, pressing colors of love back into his monotone soul.
“I love you, Hanbin.”
You murmurs against his lips with the best smile you could muster up and immediately feel his lips curl up in reciprocation.
“I love you so much, Hanbin.”
You repeat when the wetness drench your skin in the torrential downpour of his eyes. It was as if every prayer, every hunger, every thirst his body went through the last two months answered all at once, overwhelming every senses in his body. His face numb with your drug. All he could do was clutching onto the loose fabric of your hospital shirt while letting your lips work his into oblivion. You work gently and carefully, wary of the splitting cracks of his lips that must be stinging like thousands pricks of thorn. Soon enough, neither of you could be satisfy by the lightness of a few pecks. As if he read your mind, his lips part slightly, welcoming your own pressuring for a deeper kiss. Your soul relishes in familiar plush of his lips, the dominance of his tongue, the sweetness that he is.
“Please, be mine again.” You murmur against his lips, giving you both a chance to catch up to reality.
Your words so small and simple but it restores his heart, mends his soul. Finally reeling in the reality of it all, he breaks away from your touch.
“Always. I’m always yours baby. Y/n is mine. Forever. I’d love that.”
Echoing the words you had said to him two years and six months ago when he first tie your life to his, he lets out a joyous sob. Mirroring his emotion, you wrap your arms around his shoulder, cheek rubbing onto his, thankful for a second chance at love. No word could describe the feeling your soft touches are giving him at the moment. It simply feels like he’s among the clouds of his best dreams. Like any dream, reality rears its ugly head and this time it comes in form of a string of heavy cough shaking your body. The settling cold of night has once again gotten the better of your still recovering body. Hunching over in a fit of cough, you smile through it all. For once in all the days laying in this cold room, you know once again you can confidently grab onto Hanbin for support.
Holding your body close, he carries you off easily with your arms still clinging around his neck. Gently settling your tired body onto the unnecessary large bed, Hanbin made sure you drink enough water before pulling the cover over your body. Shuffling around awkwardly beside your bed, he suddenly overcomes with a sense of uncertainty. Even though his body still feeling like it’s on the best high, guilt begins to course through his every vein. He had been so overwhelm with emotion that his overloaded brain forgotten about the betrayal he had put you through. Now regaining his consciousness, he couldn’t help be be hesitant, scare of how to bring the past up without pushing you spiraling back into hatred. His dubiousness not missed by your eagle eyes. Although adorable, you couldn’t help but be a bit sad from the distance between your body and his. For as long as you could remember, he never had a filter for skin-ship. All his best friends complain just how clingy he is when it’s come to being touchy, how thankful they were you came along to take some weight off their shoulders. Totally opposite of his work demeanor - cold and calculated, around you he was as affectionate as they come - hands constantly feeling the need to be in contact with your body even if it’s just resting gently on your shoulder.
“Uhm… Can-May I?” Finally catching onto your scrutinizing eyes, he stammers in embarrassment, unsure of what to do with himself.
“What kind of question is that? If you insist on being a stranger with me then just leave. I really don’t need doubts and distance right now.”
Whispering a small sorry, he finally picks a spot nearby your feet, hands softly resting on your legs.
“You’re such an idiot, Hanbin.” Sighing in defeat at his cluelessness, you peel the corner of the large grey blanket away, patting the spot next to you softly before motioning for him to come over with two fingers. Swiftly kicking off his shoes, he carefully settles under the cover right next to your body. Instinctively, you immediately snuggle up close under his arm, head resting gently against his beating heart. Without missing a beat, his arms assume their favorite position around your body just as they always had.
“What I need right now is my boyfriend. My caring, loving, affectionate Hanbin. The guy that abandoned work to bring me soup when I came down with the flu. The guy that screamed he’s not mushy or lovey dovey but then clung onto me for a whole day like a crybaby after I came back from a long trip. The guy that willing to give up sleep to drive for hours just so I can see the beach. The guy that makes me smile just by blinking his beautiful eyes, melts my heart with a touch of his finger. I can’t stand you being so distant, so detached from me. I need my Hanbin back. I want my Hanbin… I deserve to get you back. I’ve been through enough… Don’t you think?”
Your voice trails off as sob takes hold. The flashes of his standoffish expression, cold manner replay in your mind like the worst nightmare that won’t go away. Even now with your body safe in his embrace, you still fear this is all just life cruel trick. Lifting you high before throwing your body crashing down once again. Without warning, his fingers nimbly secure your chin in their grasp, lifting your head up to meet his gaze. Your painful teary eyes transform into gleeful ones instantly when those soft lips crash messily onto yours, moulding itself against the curve of your own.
“I don’t fucking deserve you, not one bit. I must’ve been a saint in my past life because hell, I haven’t done anything in this life to deserve your love.” He murmurs against your lips before another round of thrashing of lips begin. His hands rough yet gentle at the same time, conveying the neediness you crave. His full attention focuses on making you feel at home, on taking all your worries away. He needs you to know he’s never going anywhere, ever again. You have him for as long as you want, this life and all the lives after that.
“But I will stay for as long as you need. I’ll be your servant if it means I get to worship at your feet every minutes of the rest of my pathetic life. I love you so much, baby. Whatever you want babe. I’ll give you everything if it means you’ll take my worthless self, let me back into your life.”
The intensity of his loving gaze set you ablaze with joy. The way he’s drinking in every bit of your features, longing for your touch even though he’s already holding you so close, lips merely centimeters away from yours.
“I love you, Hanbin. You don’t need to do anything, just staying by my side and loving me is enough.”
Finally parting touch out of bare necessity for air, his eyes glisten with newfound strength. Hands still tangles in the knots and strands of your hair, he whispers “thank you” incessantly before laying back down. Minutes then an hour past without much being said. Simple sound of kisses smacking and content sighs replace words that need not be say to be understood.
“Is this why you chose this hospital… because the bed is big? So you can crawl into bed with me when i’m out cold.” A devilish smirk on your tired lips, deciding you miss his soothing buttery voice. As much comfort as this blissful silent brought, you’d much rather listen to his incessant babble after so long of watching from the distant.
“What kind of person do you think I am, baby? I’m not that desperate.” He scoffs, although the arms tightening their hold around your shoulder said otherwise.
He places a kiss on your forehead, lips smirking victoriously at the sight of your small body flushing against his, letting him pet you however he likes. An air of easiness floods his lungs at the sound of your small giggle. It was something he took for granted. Having heard nothing but screams and cries the past few months, it was now a sound he vows to hear at least once a day. The best part of it all, it was him that caused that lovely sound.
“I’m pretty sure you are.” you insist, hand wanders from his toned chest to the tight abs. You’ve missed this. Cuddling was something you both love, perhaps even more than making love. The intimacy of knowing you could be so impossibly close without needing to resort to lust and biological urges is a high of its own.
“Fine but I only did it once, okay? And it was because I had to leave you. I’m not creepy like that. I just kinda held your hand and kiss you here and there. You know, whispering into your ears. Typical K-drama kind of scenes.”
“Ugh, Mr. Hanbin. Kissing and laying with someone without their permission, how could you. That’s a lawsuit waiting to happen.” You groan, scrunching up your nose feigning disgust at his confession.
“If I admit i’m a creep for you, will you stop teasing me?” he quips, fingers digging into your hip eliciting a loud yelp. Doesn’t matter how much you beg, his fingers never cease their banter. Your eyes dart hastily between the door back to his playful eyes, worries engulf you.
“Yah, stop. I’m gonna get scold by the mean nurse again. She already hate me enough as it. It’s all your fault too!” You groan loudly, simultaneously hushing his overexcited self.
“You little brat, how is it my fault if you’re an annoying patient huh?” His eyes light up in pure happiness watching you squirm under his touch, a smile broad on your lips.
“CAUSE! you left a big mess with all your papers and shenanigans. Then you keep storming in and out of my room. Ugh, you’re so annoying”
“Hey, how dare you call your boyfriend annoying. You’re so getting it now!” Shifting off, he hovers threateningly over your body, hands begin trailing down along your side and once you realize where they were heading, it was already too late.
“No, come on babe. Not my freaking thighs, stop! Yes. Yes. as long as it’s for me.”
“I’m only a creep for you, Mrs. Hanbin. Happy now?”
‘Mrs.’, that was something Hanbin had always avoided saying. Not because he didn’t see himself marrying you but because he had always been scared of rejection. He was readied, so ready to take you with him for the rest of his life. Never once had he called you “mrs.” anything. Hearing your new title, the meaning, it rattles your heart with intensity of a 9 point earthquake. Playfully hitting his chest, your crane your neck to press a small kiss onto his awaiting puckered lips before laying back down.
“Baby?” Timidly, Hanbin awaits your response, unsure if he really wants to go dig a hole when everything feels so right.
“Yes, boyfriend.” You breathe almost effortlessly much to his delight. He loves the way you could make such a simple word impact his heart in such a way, evident by the brilliant smile tumbling from his lips. You stare back with delight glossing over your doe eyes and he found himself sadden. Sadden not because of what you said but because all this time, he could’ve just given you the ring, that none of this would’ve happen.
“I’m really sorry for all the things I’ve done. I know there’s no making up for it.”
“I know…” You whisper softly, index grazing along his torso. Feeling the gap increasing between you both even though you’re still stuck close to his body, you wiggle even closer. “I… I blamed you for causing all my pain but I realized, it must’ve been ten…no, thousand times worse for you. I won’t say it’s okay because honestly, it wasn’t. I can say this though, I forgive you and I need for you to forgive yourself if we’re going be together.”
“I love you so much.” He digs his face deep into the crook of your neck, feeling his large body somehow fitting so perfectly inside your small embrace. “I don’t blame you for hating me. Even as I was going through that night, my head kept screaming at me ‘fool, you need her. Stop now before it’s too late’. Even when you were being drag away, I just wanted to chase after you, pulling you back into my arms but I was so blind I thought that was the only way you’d be happy.” A bone crushing hug found its way around your body as he mutters out a muffled confession. He finally exhales after feeling like his breathing has ceased for so long. His body on cloud 9 as your hand rubs comfort back into his skin.
“Hanbin… I can’t say that I agree with what you did but I understand. You had my best interest in mind even if it meant throwing yourself away in the process. A man that can forget about his own well being for the good of his love ones is someone I can stand behind. My happiness is with you. What I needed from Hyunwoo was closure.” You smile at the thought of having two amazing men in your life that are willing to give and support you no matter what. How lucky can one person be, honestly. “We both had thought the reason we felt so guilty for moving was because there was still lingering feeling. Turns out, we just needed closure, to make sure the other person is happy.” It was true a small part of you always held back from loving Hanbin fully. It wasn’t that you didn’t want to or you don’t care. It was you couldn’t bring yourself to be truly happy when God know where or how Hyunwoo was. In the short few months of your love being absent, progress made further than all the years that came before it had. You both found peace with letting go of a love you once cherished so deeply. You both finally forgave yourself for moving on, for being happy. You finally get to close that chapter of your life properly.
“Thank you for always understanding me. There’s something I, I’m… I don’t know if I should but I just need to know.”
“Anything, love.��� You whisper with a kiss on his forehead, worries once again dances on the tip of your tongue. Should you shut him up with another kiss or let him voice his concern no matter where his question might lead.
“The doctor, they said you were unwilling to wake up… Di-Did you remember anything from when you were sleeping? Was, was it because of me? Did you dream about me? Was it because you don’t want to see me again?” He utters out the painful cluster of words, arms constricting around your body as if it being impossibly close to you would ensure he’d get the answer he hopes for.
“No, silly. I just thought if I wake up, I’ll lose you all over again. In my dream, you were smiling at me and I couldn’t… I couldn’t let go.”
And hope you given him.
“I’m sorry. I promise you I will never leave you. I want to spend the rest of this life with you, then all the lives after that. I honestly don’t blame you if you wake up one day and decide to leave me. I deserve every pain in this world. If I were you, I would never forgive me.”
“But you’re not me and I’m not going anywhere. I forgave you a long time ago, Hanbin. I figured if I can’t give you the happiness you deserve then I can at least help you… that’s why I wrote you the letter.”
“My happiness is with you, always had been, the second you knock me down on that street.” Finally found enough courage to look you in the eyes, Hanbin feels himself experiencing the very definition of happy as a smile was already on your lips.
“And mine, yours.”
Now that you were officially well enough to sleep without being constantly monitor by the watchful nurse or the plentiful beeping of machines, the room suddenly feel boring.
“Hanbin, are you sleeping?” You stare up at the serene on his resting face and found yourself smiling for no reason. He’s so handsome, more now than ever that you both spilled your hearts to each other without holding anything back.
“No… I can’t sleep without you imitating the machines to lull me.” You gasp, eyes blown wide open at his little confession. Many nights while Hanbin would peacefully rest on the couch, you’d find yourself making noises, beeping along with the machine or humming random tunes. It was a way to ground yourself to reality, God know how hard it was to stay away, to not just clamber atop his stilled body and fall asleep. Other times, it’d just to keep you company from the restlessness of having been sleeping all day long.
“Oh no! You heard that?” You rasp and Hanbin just chuckles. You could never stay quiet for long and he loves you for it. Always touching him or making cute random noises as you do the most mundane things. He finds your neediness adorable. You hide behind the palms of your hands before feeling kisses being place all over them.
“Yes, babe. I heard all the noises you made up. Light sleeper now, remember?” With his eyes still close, he leans further into your needy grasp before pecking blindly at the top of your hair, missing the target a quite a few times.
“Well…. Since you’re awake, wanna do something crazy with me? One last hurrah before I say bye to this place forever?”
“Baby, we are NOT fucking in here. The door doesn’t even have a lock. People know me here. I can’t be having my parents going in for a check up and hear fleeting murmurs of my rendezvous with my crazy girlfriend. Uh uh.” You didn’t need to peek to know there’s a full blown smirk on his devilishly handsome face despite the minor protesting he’s faking at the moment. “Plus it’s 3 in the morning, get some sleep. We’re leaving the hospital at 11 tomorrow morning.”
“Come on, baby… You never let locks and fleeting murmur stop you before…” You whine and you know he hates it. “3 in the morning is exactly why I’m proposing we do this. No one comes by at this hour.”
“No.” A simple stern word hit you before he lets his eyes fluttering close once again. No way were you going to let this opportunity go as you climb atop his stiffening body.
“Please, Hanbin. I miss you… Please…” You beg knowing he would never last if you pull a pout on him. Now how to get him to open his eyes… A dangerously smirk found itself on your lips as you straddle across his torso, lips pressing softly up to his jawline as he gulps more time than you can count in a few seconds. “Technically we don’t have to do it here… I may or may not have found a safe spot in my many days spent in this place.” The second you finish your sultry laced sentence, his head shot up faster than you could even begin to imagine. Eyes wide, his mouth gapes wide open in the process of deciphering what the hell you mean by safe spot. Just as his eyes met with your pout, you hop off the bed and begin strutting toward the door pulling along the spare blanket that was once neat atop your bedside chair.
“God, you’re so crazy.” Left Hanbin’s lips with a shake of his head yet that mischievous smile tells you he was gamed. By the time he caught up, you had reach the door to the staircase with a suggesting curl of your finger calling him over. Sighing loudly as tho he doesn’t want to, he pulls his jacket over the loose V-necked t-shirt that had been tempting you all night by revealing just enough of that flawless skin and enticing sharpness of his collar bones and neck.
“Baby, how is the staircase safe?” he questions, taking your hand in his.
“Not here. I’m not crazy.” You jest, leading him up. His mouth gapes wide open in shock as if your proposal of fucking in the same hospital that he was born in, got his first cast on his arm after falling off his beloved horse, then stitching on his knee not too long after from a dirt bike, the very same one that his parents still frequent often is absolutely, completely normal but getting it on in the staircase is absolutely bonker. A strangled sound caught your attention as you reach out for his hand. He looks like a damn fish gulping air in and out as he struggles with the logical side of himself whether he should speak up or not.
“Don’t you dare call me crazy, Kim Hanbin. We fucked in a freaking field before, and on the plane, and in the closet that one time you were bored out of your mind at the old men convention.”
“Can you not call my business party “old men convention”? Make me sound so unattractive.”
“it’s some lame party with a bunch of old dudes pretending they’re still in their primes and they have the perfect family, perfect marriage. but really they’re just happy their wives let them loose for once to mingle with other old dudes and like stare at my ass.” Your head twist around to sass at him. “ You know the only reason why their wives let them out right? So they can all huddle up in the corner of the party with their expensive wine that cost more than my apartment and talk shit about their husbands. Oh and they stare at your ass, and body, and face, and like everything else. Come on, babe. You didn’t even wanna go and you were the one that hosted the party.” You hop down a few steps to meet his level before leaning in for a simple sweet kiss on his lips. “Don’t worry, you’re the handsomest old man there. I won’t leave you even if some other old man was worth 10 times more drop out of the sky. No sir, I’m good with my old man Hanbin.” You scrunch up your eyebrows, shaking your head a few time just to emphasize on how much you enjoy teasing him.
“You’re lucky I love you. I swear, you’re so goddamn vexing sometimes.” He groans but did not refuse your hand pulling him along the steps.
By the time your feet had past the door of the highest floor, just 2 flights of stair above your floor, Hanbin finally caught onto your idea of a safe spot is. Judging from the darkening of his eyes and the smug grin on his lips, it’s fair to say he agrees. Soon enough you both reach your destination as the auto doors slide wide open, rushing fresh air to the dampen atmosphere of the mostly unused highest flights of stairs. Aside from the nurses and doctors hiding out for a quick smoke, you had figured out that no one ever go up here outside of lunch hours despite the well maintained area equips with outdoor heater and a numbers of picnic table for lunch breaks. Now that the inky sky had taken over for the day, no one bothers trekking all the way up here seeing how the elevator stopped two floors down, the last floor with actual patient rooms.
“What do you think? Neat huh?”
“Okay, fine. It’s pretty nice up here.” Hanbin unwillingly admit although a smile bright on his face as he approaches the thick glass fencing that remains the only thing holding the safe haven of the roof and the 15 stories drop onto the world below.
“I spent a lot of time here whenever you leave for work… something about it. Clears my mind. I just forget about all the messy relationship stuff when I’m here. It’s just me and my thought.” Your voice dips low as you take a spot next to his, back leaning onto the cool glass, eyes searching for any sign of stars above but all you could see was man made stars. “ I forget sometimes that you were gone when I’m up here. I found myself calling out to you then just break down crying when there’s no answer. Pathetic, right? All I had to do was kiss you but I’m too fucking stubborn to even do that but then I sit here and cry like none of this is my fault. I’m so sorry” Your eyes on your very own star now. He seems to be shining so brightly even though a frown was forming on the edges of those beautiful lips of his. His eyes dejected as he gazes down on the bustling world below, almost as if wishing he could just jump and warp back in time to stop himself from hurting you.
“You have nothing to be sorry for, baby… I started this.” He breathes so gently it’d have been carried away with the night breeze had you not been giving him your full focus.
“For screaming at you, for hating you, for everything. Please… Hanbin.” Your pleading left your lips weak, dismal but all the more sincere. “Please, don’t leave me again.” You were sobbing now and there was nothing he could do to stop you but pulling you tight under his arms, secure you in his needy grasp as he cries with you. For the first time since you woke up, you utter words of weakness and deepest desire, You could scream, you could hit him, cuss at him and while it hurt, nothing hurt more than to see you break down into fragile fragments of what left of his girlfriend.
“It’s okay, baby. I’m never leaving, ever again.” was all he could whispers as the night cold paints you both with its brushes of frost. You both stand there, stealing each other body heat, bearing all the vulnerabilities of being hurt for each other to see. Your hands cling onto his back desperately under his jacket because even with the relatively thin material obstructing you from feel him, you’re still fearing he could just be another one of your figment of imagination, fisting up the material as tightly as you can just in case he’d dissipate if you let go. He says nothing but grabbing tighter onto your shivering frame because he knows you need this, he had his weak moment just letting it all go in your arms and now you need yours. He had long figured out that it would take all his life to earn back that seemingly unending trust you had for him because well, he gave you a taste of his disappearing act and what will stop him from performing it again. He gave you a taste of what your sunshine of a man could really do if darkness takes over, even if he meant well. He’s acutely aware that to you, the option of him just up and leave out of nowhere is all too real even if with all his heart and soul he’s certain, so certain that never again would he do it. He needs you too much, loves you too much to ever do something so hideously stupid ever again. It pains to even think he had done so much damage that your fear is that of him just walking away… again. You were the fearless one in the relationship. The fearless he’s thinking of here isn’t the kind that you possess as a strong independent woman he fell in love with, the kind that he admires so much. No, the fearless here is the one where you lead your relationship without ever worrying about consequences or being hurt. The one that whispered in your ear “yes” when he asked you to take a trip with him 2 weeks into your friendship even though you got no idea where you were going or even if he’s really is just a lonely sad boy who needed friend. The same one that encased you in its carefree embrace as he lead you toward the walk in closet at his parents’ mansion during the old man convention knowing how humiliating it would be if anyone were to catch the both of you moaning each other names as they walk by. You didn’t care, you trust that he would take care of you if such things did happen. The same one that stroked a laugh out of you as you both hand in hand jump off a cliff in some exotic island you can’t even pronounce the name off into the glistening blue ocean that would make aquamarine pale with jealousy even when you were scare shitless of the height. Why did you do it? Well because he would never endanger you in anyway. No harm would come to you, his promise that he upheld for so long until that night. The sheer shock and panic of going through that decision again in his mind rips him away from his reverie as he feel you calm in his hold. Suddenly the shadow of trepidation darken his body as his embrace constricts, letting him feel every dip and curve of your body and how you just melt into his touch, wiggling just to fit in with the tightening grasp. You’re so serene in the way your hand caressing the curve of his spine, face resting in the crook of his neck with your other hand over his heart. His urges too strong at this point to ignore so he pushes you off and chuckle at the strange cat-liked sound you produce, stupefy for a moment from the sudden movement. You stare deep into Hanbin’s eyes searching for any hint of uncertainty, any hint that he wants to hurt you again, push you away again but satisfy when you found none. He’s just your Hanbin again. The same one with eyes holding your whole universe, lips like the ripeness of all the best summer fruits this world could hold, and heart fresh like the first breeze of spring. He stares back and find all the answer to his life struggle as you crack a small smile, captivating him in a way nothing of this world could. Then almost too fast for human being, he’s already on your lips in a kiss with the fervidity of all those who lost but then found love again. It wasn’t the usual slow built kiss that remind you of the campfire that one summer spent at his cabin. It didn’t start of slow and dry like the tiny flickering flame of the smolder struggling to catch on. It wasn’t even the paced wet kiss of a newly born fire, latching onto any source of fuel it could. He lunges on you the burst of flame that comes with the added support of lighter fluid, of all the kindling he could possibly add in. His lips waste no time in pulling yours into the little pocket of space and time where only you and him exist. Hanbin tugs at your lower lips, nibbling, biting, smashing his lips against your all the way he knows how. The moment he feel you gasping under the pleasurable pain of his bite and the desperation of wanting more but also needing oxygen, his tongue breaches pass your lips getting straight to chasing yours. Hands tangle in your bedhead strands almost locking you in place conveying how much he wants to let you know he is never going to lose you, ever again.
“Hanbin… baby… table” is the most you manage to wrangle out before he already hoists you up making his way toward a table in the back corner, the furthest away from the entrance. He stays silent, never say a word but it’s not like he ever needs to for you to understand his intention. You shed your wrinkled up hospital shirt from hours of cuddling the second your weight got support from the wooden table below and he follows suit. By God, after so long of holding in the thirst for him, the sight of him standing there shirtless admiring you with pupils so blown out his eyes are almost pitch black is enough to make you finish then and there. Ever so caring, he wraps his jacket around your now naked body, shielding you from the numbing gaze of the night wind as he lets his eyes trace out all the part of you he misses so much.
“You will be the death of me.” He breathlessly mutters out before resuming the fight for dominant over your lips, smirking at how easily you submit to you. His hand like a map guiding his lips to explore the temptations of your body. Still staring deep into your eyes, the soft pads of his fingers caress the sharpness of your collar bones before dipping down letting the flowers of love bloom brightly on your soft skin. A gasp struggles out from the thousands of small tingling shocks running, spreading from your skin deep to your core. Your fingers quick to make home in his hair, tugging and scratching, pulling him closer. “You like that? Letting everyone knows you’re mine?” He sounds so devilishly captivating and all you could let pass your lips was a breathless “yes” before kicking your head back, basking in the gratification of his thumb circling, flicking your nipple gently while his lips working on the other one. “It’s still amaze me how perfectly your breasts mould to my hands, just so perfect, all for me.” He took a step back, eyes scrutinize every part of your body the best way possible with his hand still kneading at your soft mounds, his jacket barely hiding the world from gazing upon your naked body. He dips back in, sucking at your skin, inciting fire at with ever pass of his lips before his teeth dig into the already crimson marks. The man knows exactly what to do to get you work up and before you know it, “all yours” already slips out into the cold air stroking his ego further.
Both hands on your side now, he slowly trails them down, thumbs pressing into your sensitive skin as his tongue trail down from the valley of your breast straight to your belly button, not bothering to stop once until he reaches the forbidden place that only he has the key to. Hands holding your hips down firmly in place, he orders a stern “open” before diving straight into your more than willing spreading thighs. No teasing tonight as his tongue quick to the point in toying with your aching swollen clit. Your body curl up in the sudden floodgate of pleasure opening from months of drought only to have him grasping on tighter surely to leave marks. “Don’t you dare move, princess. I need a good taste first, then I’ll make you feel good. You want that, don’t you? I would hate to deny my princess that, especially after this long of waiting.” You nod furiously, hand holding down your thighs as if that really would stop the instinctive jerk of your body in response to his tongue flicking but then he stops, just staring up at you. “You waited for me right?” He looks so dangerous with eyes nearly all black from lust, a snarl threatening to spill from his lips, brows furrow driving his features into a cross of half smugness half anger, as if daring you to say no, to find out what kind of punishment would awaits you if you did. To his heart content, you nod yes. “Use your words, baby.” He grunts and you yelp out a loud “yes” to meet his victorious smirk. Something about the way he was praising you with the simple use of “good girl” had you rolling your hip onto his lips almost instinctively. You gasp, hand clasping over your lips in worry that you had just done something wrong, that he would deny you of your end but he only response with a dip of two fingers inside your body. You nearly cry from the sudden pleasure, back hitting what would’ve been the cold hard surface of the table if not for the jacket that Hanbin had so attentively wrap around your body. “Come on, princess. You wanted this, at least do my skill some justice. Let me hear you.” Your eyes shut tight, hand grabbing at nothing from the already intense stroking of his fingers. “Fuck, Hanbin… Please. It’s been too long, don’t tease me.” No sooner than your begging mess collapse backward onto the cold hard surface, a charming smirk and a breath of sigh meet your senses in their dance of allure. “No patient, as always. When will you ever learn that good things, very good things will come if your pretty little body can just hold out. No matter, we all know how much I love you begging anyways…” That cocky little shit, you thought, how he manages to put you in this dumfounded trance no matter what he does you didn’t know. What you do know is judging from the swift sound of the drawstring of his sweat untying, you’re about to get exactly what you’ve been asking for so if it means stroking his big, but not by any mean unfound, ego then you will.
Both his hands found purchase around your jaw as he settles in between your legs, eyes holding an intense gaze, burning you with all his love and desire. A soft kiss finds itself onto your lips with a fleeting whisper of “I love you” drawing out your own smile as you return the favor.
“Ready, baby?” He growls, breaths growing heavy with anticipation as yours hasten knowing exactly what’s about to happen.
With a gentle nod, that devilish smirk is back on his gorgeous features as he watches your struggle to cope with the sudden flood of blinding pleasure. A moan escapes your lips, face twisting up looking near in pain although Hanbin knows otherwise as his face takes on a similar expression. He hold himself still for a moment, letting your body acclimate to the familiar feeling of him filling you up so wonderfully and he with the overwhelming pressure of being so intimately connected to the person he cares so deeply about. He sighs in relief, overjoy as your scrunched up expression blooms into a blissful smile, eyes being force open to stare up at him. So delicately, Hanbin eases back out as slowly as he could without denying either of you the pleasure that’s buzzing fast across your warming skin. A near scream involuntarily rips from your throat as he suddenly thrust hard, hips snapping against your body with the surge of primal desire.
“You’re alright, baby?” Ever the gentleman, even being lost within his lust, nothing could stop him from assuring you are perfectly safe and sound, happy when a ragged “yes” then a “harder, Hanbin” stumbles from your parting lips. “Anything for my lady.” he had said before all you could see was stars as his thrusts increase in both speed and strength. Six months, half a year of being away from you, of not being to experience your love, all of it is behind him. He collapses atop your jerking body, lips resume its exploration of your body all the while a grin play upon his delectable lips.
“Fuck, baby. Your body is amazing. I don’t think I will ever get enough.” He grunts, hardly able to pass a breath as his senses overload with everything that’s you.
“Neither can I but please…” You huff out, feeling your end ringing close, sweat dripping down your skin even with the cold breeze of night. “… I’m so close, Hanbin, please… I-”
Begging, begging had always been his biggest weakness, just seeing you so submissive, so willing to cater to his ever needs just to chase your own ending with those innocent eyes despite being fuck into oblivion. No sooner than your pleading whines left your bruised lips from the endless tugging of his teeth, a hand softly, and skillfully wrap tight around your craned neck having your breath hitches in excitement. His eyes darken further, an almost dangerous smirk burst out with life as he stares down on you threatening, daring to see if you were brave enough to break eye contact with him. The small gasps with your struggle to your meet long awaited high has his thrust pounding you into the hard surface and his grunts deepen. You needed your high to drop so badly and you could tell by the way his face twisting up so painfully pleasurable, so did he.
“Begging like that… You’re lucky we’re no- we’re not at home because you’d be in so much trouble. Teasing me, riled me up then begging with those doe eyes of yours. We both know you’re just a devious little girl, playing me to get what you want.” Hanbin’s hand retreats from your neck to carding through your hair, grasping it harshly, lips near assaulting your own.
“What are you gonna do about it, boss? I- I think you’re more bark than bite.” You stutter out as confidently as you could but with Hanbin’s teeth clamping down tight on your battered lips, tugging it as harsh as he could, your voice shuts up fast, only satisfying moans were left.
“What were you saying, baby?” He pulls away, his thrusts messy as he peers down on you almost contemptuously with that shit eating grin of his, knowing he has all the power over you. Your eyes hide away, nails clawing at the cold table after a hard thrust, thighs clenching hard around his body. Hanbin himself is beginning to lose control himself, one hand neatly atop your breast groping harshly, the other pressing your convulsing body down in place, head thrown back as he tries his best to keep it together to chase your high.
“Hanbin… Fuck… I-I” Ears ringing, eyes blinding, your mind’s befuddle no words would come out even if you try.
“Let go, baby. Let me help you through it.” His words soothe your whole body into nirvana, your back ripping off the cold surface as a scream for Hanbin tear from your throat, chest heaving violently reacting to the waves of pleasure roughing up your body after so long. Your hands grip tight on the flexed muscles of his upper arms as he hasten his pace, pushing your limit as small burst of lightening buzzes through your body from the overstimulation. You want so bad for him to stop but you can’t deny him his well earned release. You lick your lips, fingers ghosting over your own nipples as you stare deep in his eyes. You moan to egg him on and moan because that’s all you could do to cope with how sensitive everything is, how far he’s pushing your abused bare sex. He couldn’t tear his eyes off of you even with his own high shutting down just about every function in his brain. Hanbin slumps over, hands grasping your shoulder tighter as he feels the coil in his lower ab tensing up with each thrust. One last grunt before his eyes flutter shut and warmth spread all over your sore, overworked inside. Ignoring the dead weight pinning down your body, your hands cup his cheeks pulling him close for one last fervid kiss before letting the lull of exhaustion carries you both to rest.
Laying there in his arm, completely bare for anyone to see feel strangely comforting. Neither of you were shy when it comes to baring all for the world to see but this moment is breaching any limit you had set before. Even with the lack of the warm cover and soft mattress awaiting to serve your weary bodies just a few floor below, you’re perfectly happy in this moment with Hanbin flushing tight on your back, face nuzzling close to your hair.
“You know I was really jealous…” You speak up to break the silent that by no mean dull. You just miss hearing his voice.
“Hmm? Jealous of my friend?” A kiss finds itself resting on your disgustingly sweat filled locks that hanbin too kindly had said was still perfect even post sex.
“I mean, that’s obvious … I was talking about before.”
“Before?” He parroting back, humming in confusion. What had you got up to now.
“Like, before I confessed to you… I was really jealous. All those girls that rubbed up on you at parties, practically sexed you in front of hundreds of people. I hated that I couldn’t be them.” You sigh at the thought of being back in that place, of not being able to love Hanbin so publicly.
“Was that why you were so grumpy all the time? That has to be the cutest thing ever. I made you so jealous that you finally decided to confess? Damn, if I knew all it took was me side eyeing other girls, I would’ve done that years earlier.” He suddenly exclaims with excitement as if it would’ve changed the sequence of life.
“Okay, don’t be haughty. i was so goddamn out of my mind jealous and pissed off that you weren’t looking at me and touching all those girls I near gave up.” With a flick to his forehead, you sass back and watch as hanbin winces in pain but a smile never left his lips.
“But you didn’t, and I can’t express how lucky I am. Thank you for not giving up on me… Even when I’m the biggest asshole in the world.”
“You’re my morning cup of joe. Without you I’m nothing but a crankier, insufferable version of myself. You made me better.” So softly, your words bring out the brightest smile he could muster up as a big kiss meets your lips.
Something about post coital cuddle really gets to you in ways even the actual act of sex can’t. It’s just so intimate in the best way possible. You trust someone enough to let them fill you up with euphoria but to be able to just lay there and small talk, even just share a laugh, that show true love, true desire, and real trust. There you lay in Hanbin’s arms, smiling to yourself for being able to just listen to his chest heavily heaving. You curl up against his body, skin sticky, hair probably look like you haven’t wash it in ages judging from how it’s matting to your forehead. Hanbin as always, looking ethereally, glowing under the pale moon and the sight assaulting light pollution of the city. If only all those people in those planes could see you both, they would probably burst into flame from the sinful sight. Yet something about this silent of satisfying moans and heavy pants that’s just so beautiful. Little did you know, Hanbin had plan to make this moment all the more magnificent and lasting forever.
“baby, I know- I know this isn’t the best time for this but…” He huffs out, hesitant on what words to use and how to not offend you. His hand dips into the pocket of his jacket inconspicuously, holding that small box that’s key to his future tightly as if holding onto a battery source, a motivation to encourage what was about to happen next.
“What is it, Hanbin?” Neck cranes, you did your best to decipher his hesitation, hoping whatever it is, it’ll continue this love-high you’re both on.
“Doesn’t this remind you of that summer…”
“You mean the one where you fucked me senseless in the field behind your vacation home?”
“Yes, yes but it was more than just fucking though, wasn’t it? At least for me it was so much more. It was the first time we really just let go of all our reservation and insecurities and just enjoy one another…”
“Of course it was just more than sex. It’s always more than meets the eyes when I’m around you. I still can’t wrap my head around how lucky I am to meet someone like you, Hanbin. I just, it’s beyond me. Thank you, baby, for everything.”
“I’m glad you feel the same way because that’s how I’m feeling right now. I don’t know if we haven’t been together for so long or that, that i’m just so elated to be with you again, to have another chance. My heart, my soul can’t even comprehend your present right now. It’s like you’re all my best dream coming true and you’re just laying here in my arm. You trust me enough to let me take the lead for so long and even after I royally fucked us both up, you’re still here. How are you even real, Y/n. I thanks God daily to let me have a chance to meet you, to love you, and for you to love me back. It’s more than anything I could ever ask for in life. When I’m with you, my money, my status, my company, none of it matter. I can’t even put in words my affection for you, my obsession, lust, desire, need, want, everything. I’ve never feel so strongly about anyone before in my life. If one day I fail at my job, lose it all, I honestly wouldn’t care because I know I have you and you wouldn’t leave me just because I lost all the dazzling part that comes with CEO Hanbin. You, miss, you love me even without all of that. After months of being alone I realize, whenever you ask me for things, it had always been my time, my love, or my affection. Never once did you ask me for material things and I can’t even say enough how thankful I am for that. When I look at you, I see my future. Future of just living in a simple home, spending our days together, visiting our parents, adopting pets, raising kids… I, that’s exactly what I want and I know it’s so crass of me to be asking so much of you especially after I took so much but Y/n, baby. I love you. I love you so much and would you do me the honor of marrying me? I would love for nothing more but to spend the rest of my life loving you, taking care of you. So please, baby. Marry me.”
“Hanbin, I-…” You wanted to scream from how happy he had just made you. God knows how long you waited for this day and after so much trials and tribulations, all the test of life thrown at the both of you, you made it.
“It’s okay if you need time to think. I know this is a big-”
“Yes, yes, yes, yes, Hanbin. Thousand, millions times over. Yes. You can ask me tomorrow, a year from now, 10 years from now, it will always be yes. I love you so much.”
Happiness doesn’t begin to describe the surge of emotion flooding Hanbin’s body. All he could do is what he always does, hold you close and just let you feel the beating of his heart. He has no words, all thoughts lost upon him as he presses a long time coming kiss on his soon to be wife’s lips. He had dreamed of this day, this moment ever since he decided to pursue you. He mulled over it many night of what kind of spectacle, extravaganza would he set up to make this moment as perfect as can be for you but this, God, this is so much better than anything he could come up with. There’s no flashy event, no showy materials things, no one else around but just you and him. Neither of you had ever let the monetary things in life get in the way of your love and this proposal was the most perfect thing for the simple couple that you both is. Just you, him and the contagious joy that was spreading lights into even the drab atmosphere of the hospital. Pulling back, tears still welling up in his eyes, he finally retrieves the box that had been resting in the jacket that was still wrapped tightly around your body, the box he thought he would never get the chance to use.
“I don’t have the best taste in jewelry so if you don’t like it, we can get something else.”
“Kim Hanbin, you should know better than that by now. I love whatever you get and to be honest, even if you don’t get me a ring, I would still marry you. Like, you really think I’m gonna let you escape a second time? Hell no.”
“You’re so silly sometimes… Hand please, Mrs. Hanbin!”
“Uhm, I don’t think you can call me that yet, Mr. Hanbin.” You blink back a few tears, trying your best not to lose it then and there, screaming to the world just how happy you are.
“I don’t care, you always were my Mrs. even from the first second.”
“Oh my god, this is beautiful. babe, you didn’t need to get me anything exorbitant… I mean it is very beautiful and I love it.”
“I know, I just I was so happy when I went to pick out the ring that I got carried away… Only the best for my wife.”
“Hanbin. My husband. Forever. I’d like that.”
“Y/n. My wife. Always mine. I’m never letting you go.”
Thanks goodness the night wrapped up without a hitch as you both hand in hand brave the world as newly engaged lovebirds. Bundled up in the hospital blanket, you shied away behind Hanbin’s back, giddy from the thought that the groups of nurses dying for a smoke break that was now trudging up pass you could’ve walk right in the middle of your love making session had they decided to take a break just 20 minutes earlier. Your cold pale skin rosey from the overwhelming excitement both physically and emotionally as you both bowed back to the nurses.
“Okay, missy. You can stop giggling like a kid now. Did you realize we could’ve got caught?” Hanbin grimaced, groaning as he tucked you back onto the spacious bed.
“I’m sorry… but I can’t help it.” Blanket pulled up to hide half your face to avoid further scrutiny from your handsome man, you pulled a pout that although he can’t see, Hanbin knew very well prominent on your face.
“I seriously cannot with you anymore, baby. Get some rest, I’m going to head down and reschedule your discharge time.”
With a small wave and a muttered of “be back soon” you let drowsiness overtook your senses as you watch him disappeared down the hall. Soon after, your prince returns, a serene smile on his lips as he watches your chest heaves gently, a glint of hope sparkling on your finger pulling a smile onto his lips, before shutting the door and crawling in right next to you.
“Goodnight, princess. I promise to always be here.”
A sweet kiss to your forehead before the sandman works his magic over the room. For once in months, Hanbin finally sleep at ease.
“Hanbin, how is she?” Worries spill from Mrs. Kim the second she steps foot inside your hospital room, bag thrown aside carelessly as she hover, hands patting your cheeks and forehead slightly. The news of you staying an extra few hours travel fast, especially with her at the edge of her seat having seen you disappeared from her life once before.
“She’s well now. The doctors finished all their test last night and she’s clear to go home.” Hanbin smiles, albeit exhausted, still mesmerizing. His eyes couldn’t tear away from your still slightly pale skin from the long road of recovering, grateful that the rosy tone has slowly returning.
“They told me she was suppose to go home this morning, it’s 5PM. What happened?” Concern shakes the whole room as she approaches your still body, curling up so peacefully in a fetal position, fast asleep.
“Nothing… I kept her up late last night so we missed the discharge time.”
“What did you do to my daughter, Kim Hanbin.” Stern and straight to the point, Hanbin’s surprise his mom hadn’t gotten his ear under her fingers.
“We talked, a lot. About everything that happened…”
“And?”
“See for yourself, mom.” Hanbin chirpy, cryptic tone did nothing but making his mom rages with uneasiness. She follows the direction of his gaze, befuddlement darken the normally kind eyes. Even after a good minute of staring, she still couldn’t figure out what the hell her crazy son was talking about. All she sees is you quietly snoring away from probably exhaustion caused by her son.
“Mom, come on. Look harder.” Hanbin groans, earning a glare from his mom. She shakes her head incredulously at his ridiculous antic before laying eyes on his hand that was now reaching out to yours. Intertwining fingers, he gently pulls your hand on his lap, presenting it like the most exquisite piece of artifact at a museum. His thumbs stroking the back of your hand softly, a smirk appears on his lips the second her eyes widen in shock the second that insanely magnificent piece of jewelry that officially puts an end to both your heartbreak shines bright in the sleepy evening sun.
“I, oh my. Is that what I think it is. Son, you better not be joking with me right now. I will kill you with my bare hand then bring you back so your dad can punish you if you’re lying right now. No!” She gasps loudly, stirring your restful form. Hanbin presses his index to his lips with a soft shush before hovering above your wincing features, planting soft kisses along your forehead and cheeks as he would whenever you get nightmare.
“It’s okay, baby.” He coos softly, free hand stroking your hair lightly as the other one still holding onto yours tightly, his mom couldn’t help but relax into a motherly smile as she watches her baby boy becoming a man, a gentleman just like she hope he would be. “Shh, baby. It’s ok, sleep.” A few more kisses meet your lips before a smile breaks out on your lips as you settle back into a deep slumber.
“Yes, mom. it’s exactly what you think it is on her ring finger. She said yes last night… We were up talking most of last night, hence the dela-”
“Oh my dear lord. My baby.” Mrs. Kim lunges forward and before Hanbin could even reacts, she’s already planting kisses all long his cheeks. “Finally, you did something right.”
“Okay, thanks mom. way to make me feel like a loser.”
“No, no, no. No son of mine is a loser if he could right all his wrongs. I’ll leave you two love birds alone. This is the best news I have in awhile.” She teases as her gaze lovingly falls onto the object that just unlock a whole new life for her son.
Happiness can’t even begin to cover the mutual feeling share by mother and son as they gaze upon your drowsy form, matching smile on both their lips. Mrs. Kim rub circle on her son’s back, a mother’s comfort, letting him know that no matter what, Hanbin will always have her full support. A few more minutes of chatting and Mrs. Kim bid farewell to a still giddy Hanbin. Unlike her usual calm facade, she wears a bright smile on her lips, tone of voice could barely contain the excitement for the future of her growing family.
“Mom, can you keep this a secret for a little while longer? I just want to have this moment between me and her for a bit… You know how everyone gets with the congratulations, and the questions, and the blah blah blah.” Hanbin muses over with his mom snuggle close under his arm as the pair saunter to the exit.
“Of course. It’s your news to share, take as much time as you two need. Lord know you both need some peace and quiet time to yourself. The last few months had been stormy and tumultuous to say the least.” Hanbin’s mom sigh rather than a heavy breath, it was filled with relief that the struggle had passed for her dear son and soon to be official daughter because let’s face it, you had always been a daughter in her eyes.
“Thanks, mama. The Mrs. and I appreciate your discretion.” Hanbin grins widely, catching himself letting the new term flowing off his tongue so easily.
“Look at you, already speaking like a true married man. Don’t worry about anything, alright. Just take time to ease back into this. Now I don’t claim to have the most perfect marriage in the world. Close, but not quite.” Mrs. Kim chuckles a bit at her own boastfulness. “ Marriage aren’t always going to be a walk in the park and it shouldn’t be. You’ll fight, you’ll cry, sometimes things will be thrown but at the end of the night, never go to sleep angry at each other. After all the glitz and glamour of the world fade away, your partner is all you really have. Even your children will leave you someday but your spouse won’t. You both are about to embark on the longest journey of your lives so don’t feel like you need to rush because of other people. Who care what other people think and say about your relationship, as long as you’re content with yourself, that’s all that matter. Take all the time in the world until it feels right.”
With a parting hug, Hanbin watches as his mom drive off into the distant, nodding to himself, engraving her every word into his mind. Still stuck in cloud 9, he found himself just staring at the spot that his mom had parked a few moments ago before jerking out of his day dream. You’re waiting for him in the room and finally, finally he can just run in and pull you into his arms. No one can ever take you away from him, ever again. He has to right to be a smug bastard about being the only man in your life that could kiss you good morning and snuggle you at night. It’s all beginning to sink in faster than an anchor dropping at sea now that he has a moment of complete silent to think. You’re his fiancee. No joke, you’re really his forever. Internally freaking out, Hanbin screams off the top of his lung a loud cheer of happiness. His voice echoing through the empty parking structure with all its might, drawing attention to the now red as a tomato boy. He bows apologetically for disturbing everyone’s peace as he tear off into the hospital once more. Swinging the door wide open, he’s just stand there grinning at your still serene body curling up on the bed.
“Baby, time to get ready to go home.” He sinks his weight onto the bed just next to you, pressing a big kiss onto your cheek and watches as you stir in your sleep.
“Hmm?” You response sleepily and Hanbin couldn’t help but giggle at your cat liked nature, curling up in a ball while pawing his pestering hands away.
“Let’s go home, sweetheart. You can rest more at home. I won’t get yell at for sleeping with you there.”
“Just a few more minutes, Mr. I’m tired.” You groan, rolling over to the other side of the bed to avoid his pestering. Sighing loudly, Hanbin mumbles a defeated “What am I going to do with you” before falling onto the bed, ignoring the nagging of his mind that he might get in trouble with the mean nurse again. You grin in happiness of just how much of a softie Hanbin gets around you as he snuggles close, spooning you tightly from behind.
“You know…” Hanbin suddenly speaks up, arms tighten even further around your body. “I’ve spent so many nights just sitting there, staring at this ring and wonder about the what ifs and could’ve been. I never thought this moment would be possible.” The gentleness of his voice like the most expensive tickling of ivories in your ears as his fingers ghost over your own, thumb rubbing the back of your hand delicately. “I didn’t think us was ever going to happen again but here I am with my beautiful fiancee in my arms. I think anything is possible, wouldn’t you agree?” That playful tone, he’s up to his cheeky business and you’ll be damned if you don’t join in.
“Hmm, rightly so.” You quip, taking your chance to glance back at the lovestruck boy with the glistening smile on his lips.
“So I think, if my beautiful fiancee… God, I’ll never get tired of saying that…” He pauses for a moment before a soft peck graces you. “If my girl wants another 10 minutes of sleep, that’s the least I can do right?” He jests with a small giggle, leaving you rolling your eyes at his ever unpredictable mood change.
“hmm… ‘s that right?” You yawn lazily, pulling the blanket over your shoulders before fluttering shut your eyes once again.
“Yea. You know, it’ll take me at least 10 minutes to finish the rest of your paperwork, pulling the car up, moving your luggage into the car, wait for the nurse to get a wheelchair… 20 minutes even. This way you get a few extra minutes of napping and I don’t get yell at.” He exclaims enthusiastically as if he had just found the solution to world hunger. “SEE! I am so husband material. Compromise is the key to marriage, I’ve been told. If only my VP and the board of directors see me now.” He hisses, no doubt rolling his eyes at all his employees, dreaming about sassing them on compromising 101. “And they say I don’t know how to compromise because I’m stubborn as a bull.”
“Is that what it is, compromising? I think you’re so whipped for me that you’ll do anything. It’s okay, Mr. Let’s go home before we both get yell at cause let’s face it, if we do, I’m using my sick patient in the hospital card and throwing you under the bus.” You feign a few small coughs and he rolls his eyes for the blatant betrayal already even before you tie the knot.
“Shhh. It’s compromising for my lovely wife, okay? And no can do, Mrs. Lay back down. I made my plan and I will see it through.” Honestly at this point, you’re wide awake but decided to entertain his playful antic anyways. After all this time, he deserves some joy, especially deserve to have his way with you back. Truly, you really just want to soak in all that attention he has to give even if all the days after, you’d be side by side until time dies. You watch as he fumbles off the bed, limbs tangled in the blanket before he shoots you a teasing wink and huffs off down the hall to the nurse station.
The gentle heat of a blush creeping onto your cheeks at the realization that Hanbin is yours, for all eternity, it will be just you and him. Finally you could watch him walk away without feeling your heart being tear apart and it’s the best feeling in the world. Whatever happens now, you know your dear husband will surely shield you from it all as you vow to protect his heart for as long as you both shall live. Whatever happens now you can breathe easy knowing never again will either of you walk along the shadow path of loneliness and that’s enough for you. Whatever happens now, just Hanbin will be enough.
Part 1 | Part 2
#ikon#ikon scenarios#ikon imagines#ikon fanfic#ikon hanbin#kim hanbin#hanbin#hanbin scenarios#hanbin imagines#hanbin fanfic#b.i#ikon b.i#b.i scenarios#b.i imagines#b.i fanfic#ikonic#writing
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Masks "Menagerie" Campaign - Session 6 to 10
It’s been awhile since I’ve written about our ongoing Masks game (superhero antics in the vein of Young Justice, Teen Titans, or Avengers Academy), but that in no way means the game itself has slowed. Quite the opposite.
So, if only for the sake of bragging, I thought I’d catch things up.
The last time, I covered sessions 0 though 5. This time, it’s sessions 6 to 15, so buckle up.
Before I get rolling, I want to recognize two resources that have made this broad overview far more manageable.
The first is the forum that is automatically made available for any campaign you set up on Roll20.net. (Our game is played online, and while the voice chat isn’t able to handle our group’s particular challenges, the other tools it provides are invaluable.) The forum lives here, and sees continuous, nigh-daily activity in the form of fiction, world-building, general discussion, and (of course) the blow-by-blow Actual Play summaries – usually authored by Dave Hill – which supplement if not completely stand in for my spotty recollection.
(Said forum has been made even more valuable with the addition of a custom coded search/scraper that Bill forced around roll20’s forum code at great personal effort.)
The second tool is a more recent addition to our electronic tool box, a wiki built and customized (again, mostly) by two of the players, Bill and Mike. Thanks to the organization of the wiki (and downright sexy layout), I’m able to excavate all kinds of trivia and bits of game lore that might otherwise have flared and died within minutes of being introduced into a session.
With that out of the way…
When We Last Left Our Heroes…
Sessions 1 though 5 were mostly about introducing the heroes to the people of Halcyon, and the players (and myself) to the Masks system. They had a morning show interview, a downtown brawl with some bad guys, and then rode the fallout from those events, (including the speedster getting temporarily lost in an alternate, devastated version of Earth.)
Session five saw the team looking forward or inward – taking stock of the problems they had on their plate and making plans to deal with them.
It also saw their team coming to the attention of AEGIS, the SHIELD-esque organization of the Masks universe.
Issue 6
Issue 6 recording on YouTube
AP Report
One of the directives for a Masks GM is presenting adults as supportive but short-sighted; willing to help but always pushing their own vision and agenda on the teen heroes – help with strings attached. Okay.
Enter Agent Ted Waters (who’s probably going to be the most supportive, least strings-attached adult in the game – though that’s a low bar), an experienced AEGIS agent and the father-figure/handler for Link (whose actual father is super-villain Rossum the Minion Maker). Waters shows up at Quill Industries (the ‘sanctum’ for the team’s Doomed character) with paperwork in hand that will officially recognize the team by AEGIS… a move AEGIS hasn’t… umm…. actually sanctioned?
This paperwork is simple – it merely requires the team pick a name and an official leader. Easy, right?
The name had been under discussion via in-character posts on the forum, but we hadn’t brought it to the forefront yet. This was meant to facilitate that. They tell Ted the team will be the Menagerie and it gets the expected, bemused response from the older man (a good sign you’re on the right track in a teen-oriented game).
The ‘strings’ attached to this bit of help were more meta-level than an actual condition offered by Waters – the team had to pick a leader; a requirement I thought might generate some drama/angst/hand-wringing/reflection/et cetera.
It did all those things, so yay. 🙂
The team eventually settled on Jason Quill (the Doomed, played by Dave), a decision which the team treated with varying levels of seriousness. (Jason on one end of the panic-stricken-with-the-weighty-responsibility spectrum; speedster Mercury (Kay) providing the ‘whatever man paperwork is boring just write something in it doesn’t matter’ counterbalance.)
While Jason continued to process this development, Ghost Girl went and got herself in one kind of trouble (attacked by someone who saw her as a dangerous menace, starting both an arc and introducing her current Mundane-vs-Freak Hook), while Like found another (investigating a mutual friend’s disappearance and running afoul their supernatural kidnapper).
This development brought us to the end of the session with the team rushing to help GG, but split (“where the hell is Link?”), and under a leader (technically) who was still a bit in shock.
Issue 7: If the Graveyard Be My Destiny!
Issue 7 on YouTube
AP Report
(All credit to Dave for the comic-book-classic session titles.
This session was meant to introduce one of Ghost Girl’s issues and a sort-of nemesis; Ghostheart (one of the characters from the Masks Deck of Villains) whose main deal is obsessively keeping living people over THERE, and dead people over THERE, and NO TOUCHING NO TOUCHING NOT EVER.
Charlotte is all about connecting with people amongst both the living and dead (she’s playing the Outsider playbook, and filled with wonder at the modern world in which she now finds herself), so Ghostheart seemed almost a custom-written enemy for her.
Most of the session was a nighttime fight at GG’s home cemetery against Ghostheart and a couple of his summoned demonic henchthings – Rawhide and I-Didnt-Catch-the-Other-Guy’s-Name. After the fight (and some really stilted, useless, uncomfortable leadership, beautifully delivered by Dave), the heroes (reunited, since Link was tussling with Rawhide on his own, initially) tracked down and rescued the kidnappee “@powerpony” – an online-mutual of both Link and GG’s (PC-NPC-PC relationship triangles are good – need more of those).
Offscreen
The players conducted a couple Google-Doc-based scenes after this session, simply to get them done in satisfying fashion without taking up too much in-game time.
The first was Link talking with green-lantern/Blue-beetle-esque Concord about the details of the kid’s powers.
The second was between Link and Jason – an often tense but ultimately fruitful and relationship-building ‘discussion’ about what kind of leadership the team really needed (and what kind Jason could legitimately provide).
Both scenes were great, and the ‘offline’ RP option proved a good one, though we try not to use it too much, as it tends to move characters whose players have the mid-week bandwidth for such things further center stage, in a play environment (online, short sessions) where it already seems someone ends up drawing the Spotlight Short Straw every week.
Issue 8: Lo, There Shall Be an Evening of Character Interaction!
Issue 8 on YouTube
AP Report
As a means of exploring GG’s current Hook (her Mundane connections with others, versus the Freak nature of her powers), we also learned a bit more about why Ghostheart wanted GG out of public circulation – her interactions with the Living were creating some kind of ectoplasmic catnip that would inevitably attract a terrible entity known as Pandemonium to the material world.
The only way she could guarantee her living friends’ safety was stay away from them. Which sucks.
AEGIS rolled back into the picture much sooner than anyone expected, as the team called them back to take Ghostheart into custody. (The team opts NOT to go the morally-and logically-questionable route of the Flash CW show, with villains held without due process, inside a particle accelerator, and fed Big Belly Burgers on a… mostly daily schedule.)
The rest of the session involved the team either trying to help each other out with Comfort and Support-based roleplaying (with mixed but fascinating and sometimes hilarious results), or working through their own problems; Link’s robotic not-girlfriend Pneuma announced she was departing Halcyon for a bit to visit ‘someone’ in Japan, while Jason went down a digital rabbit hole, investigating how and why his nemesis Alycia Chin infiltrated Quill Compound as a lowly warehouse employee for a month.
Jason’s investigation led to a great scene where he uses his nanobots and latent genius to analyze Alycia Chin’s actions, and gets knocked cold in the process via some kind of latent … mental … something … Alycia left behind in the video recordings of her activities. Remote Memetic Programming, maybe? Image-gestalt boobytrap? That would be bad.
Issue 9: Sizzling Big Adult-Influence Issue!
The Beginning of the Day From Hell
Issue 9 on YouTube
AP Report
Morning! The second Weekday of the campaign, and time once again for all good heroes to… get to school.
(Assuming they aren’t a ghost from the civil war, or unconscious, of course.)
A while back, Concord’s player had started a discussion on the forum where we all talked about whether the Nova playbook was working for him, and we collectively came to the conclusion that the Janus playbook worked better. So we retconned it.
This session was the one where we started to get into that ‘dual identity’ drama a bit more, very literally in this case (because I am a ham-fisted hack) with Concord trying to help Link with an unconscious Jason (via an energy construct copy of himself) while simultaneously attending school in his ‘real’ body. He didn’t exactly balance this out well, and ended up being sent to the principal’s office when he confused his multiple mouths and remonstrated his English teacher for being a ‘walking deceit’ when he meant to be talking to the vision of Alycia Chin in Jason’s head.
I’d call this situation a solid B effort on my part. Maybe a B-. We get better at this in short order, though, so I’m not going to beat myself up too much.
Meanwhile, Mercury and Ghost Girl spent the morning reaching out to adults for advice and input, before Mercury had to get to school.
Harry’s dad-joking, eggplant-emoji-texting dad, Silver Streak.
This is always a fraught situation in Masks – going into a scene with an adult or adults in Masks carries an undercurrent of threat akin to an armed parley with A-level super-villains. Honestly I’ve never done as much broad-spectrum damage to the team with a bad guy as I have in scenes with their well-meaning mentors dispensing advice, constructive feedback, and (horror of horrors) heartfelt praise.
It didn’t really go better here, with both Harry’s dad and the retired ‘grail knight’ Armiger (Lucius, owner/operator of the Has Beans coffee shop, downtown) kicking in their two cents about Ghost Girl’s ongoing Ghostheart/Pandemonium problem, what they thought the kids should do about it (and, ultimately, who they thought the kids should be.) They got what they were after, but Ghost Girl at least wasn’t feeling great about it afterwards, which lead to some Condition-clearing reckless behavior later. (As it should.)
Issue 10: Halcyon High-Jinks (Hell Day, Part 2)
Issue 10 on Youtube
AP Report
Dave, Margie, and Katherine were all out of town, which left Jason recovering from his tussle with not-Alycia, Ghost Girl roaming the city doing reckless things without consulting the team, and Harry actually attending Gardner Academy (the private high school that tends to specialize in rich kids and publicly recognized supers).
Concord and Link, on the other hand, are on their way to HHS – Halcyon High South – part of the public school system, where they academically toil in relative anonymity.
Bill and Mike (and I) were excited to play around with that classic of teen superhero comics, the high school, so we had a good time with this. First order of business was to establish the normal day, and I had fun introducing some of the faculty, and went to the players to fill in NPCs (which gave us the wonderful Ms. “No!” Rodriguez, Leo’s lab partner.
I also introduced Taz, a new transfer and tech-nerd who seemed to either be a bit on the spectrum or way over-informed about Leo, or both. She showed up both in Leo’s chem class as well as at lunch with Leo and Adam, and was generally fun to play, freaked out the players a skosh, and has more going on that I’m looking forward to getting into.
With the norm established, it was time to get some Concord-grade villains on the stage, and that mean “galactic” villains. For this, I went back to the Deck of Villainy and pulled out The Farlander (who is just too weird looking and fun to play) and Sablestar who, by sheer coincidence in visual design, seemed to be … related to Concord and his powers in some way. There’s some vague hand-waving on her card about being a member of the Void Collective and something of a space-anarchist, but I already have an anarchist villain, so Sablestar and the VC became a kind of counter-(if not anti-)Concordance, in my head. We’ll see how that fleshes out over time.
So: a bit of fighting at the school with The Farlander, and the introduction of Sablestar, and as things get complicated we call it for the night, ready to bring in the rest of the team next session as things heat up.
That’s five of the ten sessions I wanted to cover, so I’ll stop here and do 11 to 15 in the next post. More soon!
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