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catmiemy · 3 hours

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New Life, Old Problems (Leah Williamson x Reader)

Summary: You're trying to fully settle into your new life in London with your girlfriend. But when you get sick your past stops you from reaching out.

A/N: Finally managed to put something on paper again! By now I have about 6 stories (some multiple chapters) fully planned out in my head, but I struggle so much with actually writing any of it. Although it's getting a bit better, so I might become more active again.

This is the third part of the New Teammate series (Part 1, Part 2 Arsenal version). Although I think you should be fine to read this without reading the other parts first. Also this was definitely helped along by @holly-wallis, who reached out to tell me she was excited for the next part. So thank you again!

You thought you were doing well. You thought you had settled perfectly into your new life in London. You thought your relationship with Leah was going great. And all this was true, but only to a certain degree. Underneath the surface there were still many gaping wounds and you had a long way to go, which would take even longer because you refused to accept it, pretending like you were already at your destination.

How hard it really was for you to fully trust anyone, even Leah, to be vulnerable around her, became glaringly obvious when you got sick. As much as you wanted comfort, someone to take care of you, you couldn’t allow it. The thought of trusting anyone so much when you were in a vulnerable state left you panicked.

However there was no hiding your sickness. Leah and you had plans that day and if you came up with some random excuse your girlfriend might end up checking on you since it was unlike you to cancel without a good reason. And sadly you couldn’t think of a single good reason why you were unable to meet up with Leah. How were you supposed to do that when you could barely muster up the energy to go to the bathroom when needed?

In the end you decided that the truth was your best course of action. The defender had been exceptionally understanding about your situation and the multitude of struggles you still faced because of your past trauma. Honestly more understanding and patient than you were with yourself.

Despite being reasonably confident for a positive reaction you still were too much of a coward to call your girlfriend, opting to text her instead. ‘This was better for your sore throat anyway’, you reasoned with yourself.

R: Le, I’m sorry I have to cancel today. I got sick.

L: Oh no! Are you okay? No wait, scratch that. How bad are you feeling? Is there anything I can do? Bring you something? Or do you want me to come over to keep you company? I’d be happy to!

You looked at the sweet and caring words, Leah’s concern noticeable even from these few letters on your phone. The urge to text back and ask the Englishwoman to come over was huge. She would take good care of you; make you feel safe and loved. But you couldn’t allow it because what if…

You couldn’t even begin to describe what was hiding behind this what if. Maybe it was actually that, the big unknown, the completely unexpected. Never in your life would you have pictured what had gone done with Jimena and the whole team in Barcelona before it had actually happened. It had left you afraid to fully let your guard down because who knew when something unpredictable would happen again. And right now you were definitely too tired to keep up any guards, so your only option was to keep everyone far away from you.

R: That’s very sweet, but I can’t…I’m sorry.

With a rapidly beating heart you watched your phone, practically hypnotizing it, scared of your girlfriend’s reply. What if this was the final straw? As much as this possibility scared you, it was still more bearable than the alternative. At least it was an option you had already considered. You wouldn’t be blindsided by it. Plus if there was one thing you had gotten good at in the course of your life it was dealing with pain and people leaving you.

L: I understand, babe. But if you need anything please text or call me. And I’ll be right there! Take care of yourself! Sending you some remote cuddles. Love you!

Your whole body relaxed as you read this response, even some tears of relief rolling down your cheeks.

R: Thanks, darling, I will. And thank you so much for being so understanding!! Love you too!

And with that you put your phone away, buried yourself under the covers and fell asleep relatively quickly. The cold medicine you had taken before texting Leah doing its part in helping you drowse off without too much of uncomfortable shuffling. Your last thought was that hopefully you’d already feel better when you woke up again.

Unfortunately the opposite was the case. You were startled awake by a violent coughing fit that just wouldn’t stop. You thought that you could ride it out, but when it got to the point where you felt like you had to throw up from coughing so much, you forced your tired body out of bed and into the bathroom.

First you collapsed in front of the toilet, bending over the bowl, but once it became clear that you didn’t actually have to throw up, you dragged yourself into the kitchen and filled a glass with water.

As long as you were drinking you were fine, but as soon as you put the glass down the scratchiness in your throat returned with full force, swiftly followed by another cough attack.

You resigned yourself to keep standing there, leaning heavily against the counter, too tired to support your body weight with only your legs, and drink glass after glass, until finally you could put the water down without instantly dissolving into a coughing fit.

At that point you were trembling because of the cold, your teeth chattering and every single bone of your body seemed to be hurting. Still you didn’t immediately crawl back into bed, instead you gathered all of the supplies you might need to ride out this cold. You filled a bottle with water, grabbed some crackers and medicine and then you decided to also get a bowl to be on the safe side should you actually have to throw up at some point.

When you finally returned to bed, your breathing was labored and you all but fell into it. You quickly buried yourself under the blankets. It did little to warm you up though and you debated for a moment to get back up and get more blankets. The idea of moving again seemed entirely impossible however.

This time it took you a lot longer to fall asleep, silent tears streaming down your face because you felt so miserable. You yearned for some comfort, for Leah’s arms around you really, and you knew she would come in a heartbeat if you asked her. Still, you couldn’t. You just couldn’t!

The next time you woke up you felt even worse and it was at this point that you realized that you needed help. Somewhere in the hazy fog of fever and misery you managed to form this one rational thought. However you had little recollection of what happened next.

You remembered staring at Leah’s contact on your phone for a while, although you couldn’t say if you did so for a few seconds or minutes or even hours. In the end you decided against calling her, instead opting to get an Uber. How you managed to get to the hospital was beyond you. You had some vague memories of a very concerned and helpful Uber driver who even walked you into the ER.

Another thing you recalled was sending Leah a message once you sat in the waiting room, slumped against the wall and shivering violently.

R: Fine. At hospital. But fine. Don’t worry!!!!

You even remembered feeling very proud of this text; convinced that it would soothe all of your girlfriend’s concerns. If you would have been coherent enough to read Leah’s answer you would have known that it had the opposite effect. You did feel the constant buzzing of your phone from when the Englishwoman tried calling you over and over again, but it felt kind of nice against you aching body, so you didn’t do anything about it.

---

“She’s not answering her phone and she hasn’t texted me back, Lia! What do I do!?!”

Your girlfriend was crying as she basically screamed these words at her best friend. When she had gotten your text and couldn’t get a hold of you, she had called the Swiss woman for support and because the midfielder was known for being helpful in difficult situations.

“Okay Leah, first take a deep breath…” Lia began with a soothing tone.

“Are you kidding me?! How do you expect me to breath when I don’t know where my girlfriend, my very sick girlfriend might I add, is!” Leah yelled, feeling the need to punch something like some sort of cliché from a movie. Or even better, the blonde would have loved to have a ball at her feet right now, that she could pund with all of her strength into the back of the net. And then maybe get into a slightly too aggressive scuffle with an opponent. Just something to get rid of this nervous energy.

“You know where she is though, she’s in the hospital, so they’ll be taking care of her,” Lia reasoned, continuing quickly before your girlfriend could blow up at her again, “And fine let’s skip the breathing. Here’s what I think we should do; you pack some things your girl might need and I’m going to call the hospitals closest to her. It shouldn’t be too hard to figure out where she is. Then I’ll come pick you up and drive you over because you definitely shouldn’t be driving.”

Despite her earlier refusal Leah let out a deep breath, relief smoothing out the edges of her panic, at least now they had a reasonable plan. This was exactly why she had called her best friend and once the Englishwoman was less preoccupied with her fear for you she would be thanking Lia profusely.

A little later the two footballers arrived at the hospital, Lia once again taking the lead and asking about you. There was a bit of a back and forth where the staff had to figure out if they could even give them any information about you.

It was a big test for your girlfriend’s brittle composure, every second that ticked by brought her one step closer to bursting into tears or unleashing her fury on everyone that got into a five meter radius of her.

Leah managed to keep it together however, not using the healthiest coping mechanisms. The Englishwoman kept pinching herself to let at least some of the overwhelming emotions trickle out of her.

Lia frowned when she noticed, but decided to keep her mouth shut. She didn’t want to risk a full-blown outburst which might then keep them, or at least Leah, from seeing you even longer.

Finally they managed to find the right information and saw that Leah was in fact your emergency contact, something that the blonde had been telling them all along. If only they would have believed her then this wouldn’t have taken so long!

Thankfully things went quickly after that. Leah was led to your room while Lia wasn’t allowed to tag along. The Swiss woman promised that she would stay in the waiting room until your girlfriend had updated her, in case either Leah or you needed something.

Leah entered your room quietly, not wanting to disturb you even though with all the meds you had been given it was unlikely you would wake up anytime soon. Still she didn’t want to take the risk. So the defender tiptoed into your room, coming to a sudden halt once she had a good view of you.

It filled your girlfriend with fear and pain to see you so sick. You were pale, even more so than usual, almost the same color as the bed sheets. There was a tube connected to your arm, most likely to replenish you with everything you needed. You were also hooked up to a monitor, and it was a small relief to Leah that everything on it looked and sounded normal. As far as she could tell at least. Most of her medical knowledge stemmed from watching doctor shows, so that probably wasn’t the most reliable source.

After getting used to this sick, fragile version of you the blonde approached you, standing by your bedside. She looked down at you with teary eyes, gently stroking your cheek before smoothing out your tussled hair.

Your girlfriend craved more contact. She wanted to snuggle up next to you, wrap her arms around you and basically attach every centimeter of her body to yours. But Leah didn’t know how you would feel about that. Not when you weren’t awake to enforce your boundaries, not when you were in a vulnerable state which usually made you push people far away from you.

So with a sigh she pulled up a chair and sat down next to your bed, not even allowing herself to hold your hand. The England captain didn’t want to risk making you uncomfortable even the tinie when you woke up.

It was about 30 minutes later that Leah suddenly remembered that Lia was still waiting for her. She rushed down to the waiting room, not wanting to leave you alone for a second longer than totally necessary.

“She’s okay, I think. Or not too bad at least. So you can go home,” Leah explained, sounding very unsure. Everyone had told her that you would be okay, all the signs pointed to it, but she would only be able to believe it once you woke up and she could see for herself. And maybe not even then.

“That’s good! I guess you want to go back now, but call me if you think of anything you need, yeah?” Lia replied, giving her friend a tight hug.

Leah nodded, before turning around and walking as fast as she could back to your room. She would have run, but had the distinct feeling that that wouldn’t be appreciated by the hospital staff. And the Englishwoman didn’t want to annoy anyone, not when she was aware that they were already breaking the rules for her by letting her stay with you way past visiting hours.

---

When you woke up you noticed with a pang of sadness that there was no warm body next to you. It wasn’t like you and Leah stayed over at each other’s place every day, but definitely more often than not. And lately every time you woke up alone you felt some dismay. Everything was just better when you got to start the day with your girlfriend.

The second thing you became aware of was that despite just waking up you still felt exhausted, drained was the better word really, and also somewhat hazy and achy. It was then that you remembered that you were sick and that you had this weird fever dream where you took an Uber to the hospital. If you would have had the energy for it you would have laughed at the absurdity of this.

However as you opened your eyes you realized with a silent ‘Oh’ that it hadn’t been a fever dream after all, you really were in the hospital. Panic bubbled up in you, but got quickly cut off before it could become overwhelming by your favorite voice speaking up, even if you didn’t like how worried it sounded.

“Babe, are you awake? How are you feeling?”

You turned around, your lips turning into a smile when you laid your eyes on your girlfriend. She had gotten up from the chair she had presumably been sitting in, staring down at you intently. The Englishwoman’s eyes were trailing over your entire body, however not in the way they usually did, this felt more clinical, like she was attempting to spot anything that might be wrong.

“Could be worse,” you replied.

Leah gave you an unimpressed look. “But it also could be better?” She double-checked and you nodded sheepishly.

“Is there anything I can do before I get the doctor?” Your girlfriend asked softly.

For some reason Leah was still standing a good fifty centimeters away from your bed, her arms hidden behind her back as if she had to stop herself from reaching out to you. If only she would! You longed for some comforting touches and maybe a good, reassuring hug from the blonde.

“Get me home?” You joked with a pleading look. You definitely wanted to get out of the hospital but you knew that it wasn’t up to your girlfriend, and she would never do anything to endanger you.

“No can do, sorry babe. Anything else?” Leah prodded, hoping you would ask her for a hug. She could barely contain herself from launching at you, but the fear of crossing your boundaries in such a difficult situation kept her back.

“Maybe a cuddle,” you mumbled so quietly and rapidly that Leah couldn’t decipher what you were saying.

“What was that, babe? Sorry I didn’t quite hear you,” Leah apologized, taking a step closer to you.

You locked your eyes with your girlfriend’s, letting all the love and concern shining in them wash over you and give you the strength to utter your request more loudly. There wasn’t even a reason to feel weird about it, you knew that Leah wouldn’t deny it, would most likely be happy to oblige.

“A cuddle?”

Within milliseconds your girlfriend closed the distance between the two of you, sat down on the edge of your bed and leaned down to gather you carefully in her arms. You both felt and heard the relieved sigh Leah let out when you were tucked into her arms.

It made you wonder why the blonde had kept her distance before, a certain guess at the forefront of your mind. And in the safety of your girlfriend’s arms you managed to ask about it without much over thinking or fuss.

“Why did you sit all the way over there?”

All the way over there was a bit of an exaggeration, but also not really. Any sort of distance between your sick self and your girlfriend felt like way too much.

Leah tried to lean back a bit to look you in the eyes, but you held her firmly in place. You weren’t ready to lose the comfort of her body on yours, even if she put now weight on you, not sure if it would negatively impact you in your current state.

“I didn’t want you to be uncomfortable with me being too close when you woke up. I know allowing closeness when you aren’t feeling too good is still very difficult for you,” Leah explained as if it was the most obvious thing in the world.

Even though your girlfriend showed you over and over again, day in and day out how amazing she was, the level of understanding and love behind this gesture still knocked you off your feet, or it would have if you were standing. It almost made you believe fully that you would always be safe with her. Almost. There was still a tiny bit of fear and insecurity left. It would probably take a good while longer until you got rid of that last remnant and you were once again very grateful for Leah’s patience.

“Thank you so so much, love,” you whispered, pulling the blonde even closer to you.

“Always,” Leah stated, not an ounce of doubt in her voice. She would always do whatever she could for you, to make you feel comfortable, loved and safe.

Your girlfriend allowed you to cuddle a bit longer until she gently extracted herself to get a doctor. At first you were somewhat annoyed at this, you would have preferred to stay wrapped up together for the rest of the night. However when the doctor announced after a quick exam that you would be allowed to go home later that day, you didn’t mind so much anymore. The thought of going home made up for losing contact with your girlfriend temporarily.

Especially because she instantly stated that she would be staying with you when the doctor pointed out that you could only go home if there was someone around to supervise you. The way her voice sounded slightly offended that this wasn’t abundantly clear to everyone made you smile fondly.

That’s how you found yourself sitting in Leah’s car that Lia had brought to the hospital early in the morning with help from Viv and Beth a few hours later. The short walk to the parking lot had tired you out and you couldn’t wait to get to Leah’s apartment and crawl into her cozy bed.

You were half asleep when your girlfriend asked you, “Home?” Still you managed to nod and echo her words. “Home,” you confirmed.

In your drowsy and still a bit feverish state you hadn’t realized that Leah was actually asking where you wanted to go, your apartment or hers. In your mind it was already decided that you would be going to the Englishwoman’s place. You loved her apartment more than yours at this point, everything about it homey and safe.

So when the blonde announced that you had arrived and you opened your eyes from the half-sleep you had been in a wave of unhappiness hit you as you took in your surroundings. You were parked in front of your own apartment building.

Tears flooded your eyes, which you tried to blink away hastily before Leah could spot them. It was stupid to be upset because of this, it wasn’t like your apartment was bad or anything, you were just really craving the comfort of your girlfriend’s place. Where everything smelt and felt like Leah.

Of course the defender detected your distress instantly. She had been watching you like a hawk ever since she had gotten to the hospital last night.

“What’s wrong, babe? Does something hurt? Should we go back to the hospital?” She asked you in rapid succession, trying unsuccessfully to keep her voice calm and steady.

You shook your head, mumbling that it was nothing. To emphasize this point you reached for your seatbelt, determined to get out of the car and into your apartment without any more of a hassle. Everything was fine. It didn’t matter that you had wanted to go to Leah’s home. Everywhere was better than the hospital anyway.

Leah didn’t give up so easily though. She put her hand on yours lightly, not taking a hold of it however, leaving you the option to pull it back if you wanted to. You didn’t, just this small contact made you feel better instantly.

“Please tell me what’s bothering you,” your girlfriend begged, her eyes looking suspiciously wet.

“It’s stupid,” you waved Leah off.

“Please,” Leah asked again, demolishing the last of your resolve to keep this to yourself.

“I really wanted to go to your place,” you explained, rushing to add, “But it doesn’t matter. Let’s just go inside now.”

Again you tried to make an attempt to leave the car, and again Leah stopped you with a gentle touch.

“We can still go over to my place if you prefer,” she offered, already turning her car back on.

“No, that’s not necessary. I’m just being silly,” you argued, but Leah just reached over to buckle you back in and pulled out of the parking space.

You didn’t have it in you to continue arguing. Plus you were too happy at the prospect of getting to go to your girlfriend’s place after all. So you just leant your head against the car window, letting your eyes flutter shut again.

“I thought you said you wanted to go home,” Leah said before you could fully fall asleep.

“I did, but I meant your place,” you answered tiredly.

“Oh,” your girlfriend exclaimed, her voice heavy with emotion. The idea of you thinking of her apartment as your home meant a lot to Leah. Every once in a while she couldn’t help but worry if she was doing enough to help you move on, to be the best girlfriend possible, to make you feel loved and safe. So this undeniable confirmation that she had been succeeding in all of these aspects meant the world to your girlfriend.

When there was no more reaction from you after this, Leah glanced over, smiling when she saw you sleeping soundly. You looked so young and open and vulnerable when you slept. Leah cherished the fact that you were comfortable being like this around her, that wouldn’t have been possible a few months ago.

#woso x reader #woso imagine #woso fanfics #woso #leah williamson x reader #leah williamson imagine

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nightsmarish · 3 days

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hiiiii this maybe weird but could i request a wolfstar x reader and she has like a lovey stuffed animal from when she was a baby she still needs to sleep with that she was trying to hide from the boys and how they’d react to finding out?? I love your writing :)

Poly!wolfstar x reader (Remus Lupin x Sirius Black x Reader) | 700+ words

A/n: a little short than I planned, but that's okay. Thank you for requesting, boo!

Tw: sleepy Remus, anxiety, first time the boys sleep at ur flat, kinda modern-ish, werewolf thing in implied a secrete r doesn't know? Kinda like a mid fic at best

★⋆｡°⋆𖦹✮₊★⋆｡°⋆𖦹✮₊★⋆｡°⋆𖦹✮₊★⋆｡

Most couples sleep over at eachother houses. It's completely normal. But, despite that fact, the nerves are eating you alive.

It was agreed before hand that the boys would crash at your place after your date. It is extremely late since the drive-in double feature ended at 2 a.m., and your apartment is much closer than Remus and Sirius' flat. Which means you've had ample time to hype yourself up, to tell yourself they won't judge you for sleeping with that bloody stuffed animal.

But now? Sitting in the passenger seat of Sirius' car with Remus half passed out with the nearly illegal amount of blankets and pillows the three of you brought? Your very not prepared for them to see the small stuffie.

Everyone stayed rather quiet throughout the car ride. Remus was already tired before the movies, probably because the moon was a few days ago, but you have no real conformation that affects him; all just speculation you've made the past few months of dating the boys. And Sirius is coming down from a sugar high, which leaves him calmer and more tired than usual. As well, with the added fact that he doesn't want to disturb your shared boyfriend as he goes in and out of sleep.

And the quietness stayed when the car parked infront of your apartment complex. Grabbing the blankets and pillows and helping a groggy Remus to his feet, the three of you manage to make it safely into your flat.

And while the boys just happen to conveniently be a bit distracted on assessing what blankets and pillows will be used to properly sleep in your bed, you sneak away to the bedroom.

There, laid out in the middle of your bed lays the little creature you've had for probably too long. You scurky on over to it and grab it, trying to quickly find a place that is both safe and well hidden for the night.

But, alas, one does not simply walk away from Sirius Black and expect him not to follow.

"Whats that, love?" Your shorter boyfriend stands in the door way, fluffy, dark green blanket in his arm. Behind him, in the living room, Remus is fighting, a little lazily, with two blankets that got tangled together.

"Wha-?" You glance down at the plushie in your hand, "This? Nothing. Nothing, why?"

Sirius quirks a brow, and dear Salazar, he can be intimidating; it's like his gaze is boring into your soul.

"Pads, leave 'em alone." Remus joins him in the door way, successfully having one of the two blankets.

"I'm not doing nothin' just wanna see who will be joining us tonight." He walks further into the room, throwing the green blankets onto the bed. Turning to face you again, gently grabbing your hip with one hand and cuping ome of your hands that holds the plushie, "assuming he will be joining us?"

You pause for a moment before practically melting into Sirius, who chuckles as he hugs your waist properly, "yeah- he's gonna join us. If that's okay." Your voice is muffled into the black t-shirt he's wearing.

"'Course, that's okay, dovey." One of the two is behind you now, having dropped the extra blanket on the bed as well. You can feel him press a light kiss to the top of your head from behind.

You move your head from where it laid on Sirius, looking at the two extra blankets that taint your bed. "I have enought blankets, we didn't need more."

The smile never leaves the boys face, letting go of you and landing unceremoniously onto your bed, looking up to you and Remus, "nonsense, darlin, how else will be over heat in the middle of the night?"

"We won't overheat in the middle of the night." The tall one gets in the bed as well, much less dramatically and soooo ready for bed.

"You are so confident in that." Sirius twists his body to see Remus getting comfy in the extremely messy bed, then glancing at you. "'Cm'on, doll, bring your friend and come join us."

A small smile graces your lips as you join the boys, one halfway to a dead sleep and the other welcoming you into his waiting arms after you turn off the bedside lamp.

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nr1chaedickrider · 1 day

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I can only be me when i'm by your side - i'm not a monster.

As time passes recovering, you've seemed to found your place in Jihyo's arms.

cw: fluff, smut, angst, petnames, virgin!reader, sweet girl!jihyo, popular but not so popular!jihyo, basketball player!jihyo, both are 18 but they are students, mentions of death, drunk confessions, they fall in love pretty fast, lwk rushed, lmk if there is more ^_^, ~ 4k words

if you're thinking "hm! i read this fic somewhere... yes! its my heeseung fic from my bg blog @adorwoo ! which i wanted to use for jihyo !^_^ hope you enjoy anyway.

men dni.

It's not your fault.

It's not your...

Is it really?

The rain beats down on your black umbrella, the lines from Dahyun's letter playing over and over in your head. It feels like you're trapped in a vicious cycle, not being able to think of anything else.

But why?

Why didn't she tell you?

Were all those conversations about the mutual trust between you two a lie? Was it just talk to keep you from worrying?

If someone had told you a week ago that you had to be at her funeral because she had killed herself, you would have laughed at that person. Dahyun was always the happiest person you've ever met.

Even if you had been told that a day ago, you wouldn't have believed it. Because in theory, it's the stupidest thing you've ever heard.

In his letter, she wrote about how much she loved you, how she enjoyed every minute and every moment with you, how it's not your fault that she's not here anymore.

She's probably right, not just probably. She's right, and you know it. But you can't stop blaming yourself. Someone has to take the blame. Someone is responsible.

You could have helped her.

You should have helped her.

Tears run down your cheeks as you stare at her grave. Her family, her friends, they are all gone. You stand here alone, not daring to leave.

'Kim Dahyun

Born on may 28, 1998.

A friend, daughter and lover.

She will continue to live in our souls.'

It feels like your eyes are glued to the writing, you can't look away. You try to regulate your breathing, taking a deep breath.

A sigh leaves your mouth as you place the white rose next to the gravestone.

You take one last look at her grave before turning and slowly walking away.

"I'm Y/n, nice to meet you all."

You look at the students in front of you, all of them giving you strange looks. Of course, you are a new student, but you feel uncomfortable under their gaze. The teacher smiles at you and tells you where to sit, next to a girl called Mina.

It's as if everyone has forgotten about you again as the teacher starts teaching. You sit down next to Mina and she smiles at you.

"Nice to meet you," she whispers. You smile at her.

You can't talk to her for long because she starts taking notes for the lesson. You look around at the faces of the others. It actually looks like a normal class, but your eyes land on a girl.

She looks shorter than you, her hair is brown as well as her eyes. She's wearing a white t-shirt.

"Have you laid your eye on someone?" asks Mina, laughing a little.

"No!" you answer, a little too loudly, and you put your head on the table as a few people look at you. "I was just looking at her," you whisper.

"Yeah yeah... that's what they all say" she says.

You slowly lose yourself in your thoughts as memories of Dahyun come flooding back.

Should you even look at other girls? Is it bad?

Would Dahyun hate you for trying to find love again?

It's been more than two months since she died, but you can't stop thinking about her.

Maybe it's normal, your behavior. Your overthinking of everything, maybe you're not the only person who feels this way? Maybe there is someone else who is just as lost in their thoughts as you are.

Maybe you are simply not alone.

However, your thoughts are interrupted by the bell and Mina.

"I can show you a few things here at school if you want," she suggests, and you gratefully accept her help.

You spend the whole lunch break running after her while she shows you around.

"Why did you change schools anyway? Your old one is a pretty well-known one, and much better than here," she asks, before taking a bite of her sandwich.

The question makes you wonder, and you think about whether you should just lie to her and say that you moved, or that you were somehow bullied at your school - but somehow it feels wrong. Because you neither moved nor were you bullied. No, everything was actually fine.

Actually,

Somehow everything changed after her death.

Your classmates started looking at you funny, and you still don't know whether they are looks of pity or looks of condemnation because they blame you.

"I don't know" is your answer, and somehow it's true. Sometimes you really have no idea why you changed schools, but Mina doesn't need to know the whole truth.

She just nods in response as she continues to eat.

"The girl you were looking at in English, her name is Jihyo by the way" she says.

What?

"Why are you telling me this?" you ask.

"Because you were staring at her a lot - you looked really interested in her" she replies with a little grin.

"How many times do I have to tell you, I wasn't staring at her..." you laugh a little, but can't hide your despair. Why does she think you're interested in her?

"Watch out!" someone shouts, but before you can react, a basketball hits you.

You fall to the floor, your head hurts and you feel slightly dizzy as you slowly open your eyes.

The girl from your English class is kneeling on the floor in front of you, looking at you, trying to see if you're okay.

It's like a cliché high school movie.

"Are you okay?" she asks, a couple of other girls come over, but she just tells them to get something to cool off and shoos them away.

The things that can happen when you want to visit the gym...

You nod slowly, after a few blinks your vision is no longer blurry.

Another girl comes back and hands Jihyo a cold pack.

"Here, take this," she says and puts it in your hand, her hand on your shoulder to support you.

You hold it to your head, biting the inside of your cheek slightly from the cold.

Before she can say anything else, she is called by his coach, at the same moment Mina comes to you.

"I was looking for you," she says and helps you up.

You watch Jihyo jogging across the field before you leave the gym.

New week, new luck?

Every day you tried desperately to talk to Jihyo somehow, but suddenly she was always gone after class and you were never put in a group together.

But it looks like luck is on your side for once.

"Here's the list of groups, you have to give a presentation in pairs on a play of your choice," your English teacher announces.

You look at the picture projected on the wall.

Chaeyoung and Mina,

Sana and Miyeon,

Jihyo and Y/n,

Jeongyeon and...

Wait, what?

You read the list again and once more you see your name and Jihyo's name next to each other.

"Jihyo and Y/n," you say quietly.

"Are you happy?" Mina asks teasingly with a grin on her lips.

"Are you happy that you have to work with Chaeyoung?" you ask back - Mina doesn't answer.

Before your teacher can give you any more homework for the break, the school bell rings and everyone rushes out of the classroom.

You walk (or rather, run) to Jihyo who is packing her things away.

"Hey, I was wondering when we should meet," you say, and she looks up at you and smiles. You feel your cheeks turning red.

She puts on his backpack and stands up.

"How about Friday afternoon? My place?" she suggests and you nod.

She takes a pen from her pocket, "Give me your hand," she says, you are confused but do it anyway.

She opens the pen with her mouth, the cap between her teeth as she gently writes on your hand.

Her phone number.

It feels like she's giving you an autograph.

"Text me and I'll send you my address," she says, and before you can answer, she walks out of the room.

You look down at your hand and see a little smiley face next to her number.

You can't help but giggle as you look at it.

You stare at your phone - up to her front door and back down to your phone.

You are 10 minutes early and don't dare to ring the doorbell.

"You know you can just ring the bell?" someone asks you, you look up and see Jihyo smiling at you.

"I'm early, that's why-"

"Not a problem," she interrupts you.

She lets you in and closes the door behind her.

Her house is beautiful, modern and yet somehow old-fashioned.

"My parents aren't here, so I thought we could study in the living room," she says, and you nod, leaning your backpack against the table.

"Water?" she asks and you take it gratefully.

You drink a little before she sits down across from you.

You both leaf through the books, take notes, talk briefly about certain passages, but otherwise no one says anything.

Jihyo decides to break the awkward atmosphere.

"I wanted to apologize again, for the basketball," she says, and you laugh a little.

"You don't have to apologize, things like that can happen," you reply.

"Have you ever had a girlfriend?" she asks, and instead of answering, you are completely silent, thinking.

Memories of Dahyun come back while Jihyo looks at you and waits for your answer.

"Yes, I did, but she died a few months ago," you answer.

She nods slightly, "Can I ask how he died?" she asks in a quiet, polite tone, as if she really wants to make sure that she's asking something that doesn't hurt you in any way.

"Suicide," you say, short and meager, without many details (whether you know many details at all is another question).

She looks at you with a supportive look, one that makes you feel like she's really listening and that she really understands you.

Maybe she understands you even more than you think?

She puts her hand on yours with a slight smile.

"Thank you for confiding in me," she says, your cheeks slightly flushed, hers too.

You both look at each other for a moment before she lets go and you both go back to work.

If only the work had gone on for longer.

After the one meeting, you saw her every day of the vacation. Always with the excuse that you supposedly "need to add something" (does going to the movies together add something to your project?).

It's been more than a week since you first met.

"You're in love," Mina says as she parks her car in front of Jihyo's house.

"I-"

"Don't even try to find an excuse, it's all good" she replies with a small grin.

You both get out of the car and walk to her house, the music so loud you can hear it several meters away.

How Jihyo, who is slightly drunk, hears the doorbell is also a mystery to you.

"Hey guys!" she greets you, she shakes Mina's hand and gives her a kind of high five, she gives you a hug.

You smile at her as the three of you walk into the living room.

"I'm going to Chaeyoung," Mina whispers, or rather shouts, in your ear before disappearing.

"Y/n, do you want to play a drinking game with us?" asks Jihyo, you nod.

Maybe it was a stupid decision.

Jihyo and her friends (of whom you only know Jeongyeon) only understand drinking games to mean taking shots and asking stupid questions.

Either answer - or drink.

You always chose the second option.

After about 7 questions (maybe more, maybe less - you lost count of that pretty fast) you get up and say that you need some fresh air.

Since you've been to her house several times, you know where the upstairs balcony is.

It's quite big, with a parasol and two folding chairs. You sit down on one and close your eyes, your head throbs a little.

"Are you okay?" someone asks after a few minutes.

To your surprise (not really a surprise), Jihyo stands next to you before sitting down on the chair to your right.

"Yeah, it's just the alcohol," you say.

You and alcohol, not really a good combination.

Especially not when you're sitting next to the girl you're in love with.

"Do you have a girlfriend?" you ask out of nowhere.

She shakes his head, "I thought it was obvious" she says and laughs a little.

"I love you" you confess.

She turns to you, but before he can answer anything, you keep talking.

"I know we haven't known each other that long... a month?? more? less? but-... I just have this feeling with you that I only used to have with her"

"I thought I'd never feel it again," you say, a tear running down your cheek.

Jihyo looks at you, her eyes slightly watery.

Is she crying too?

"Y/n" she says, interrupting your continued rambling.

She gets up, kneels down in front of your chair, and -

kisses you.

Her soft lips on yours.

She pulls away after just a few seconds and you already feel like you miss her lips.

"I love you too Y/n" she says softly.

You look at her in amazement.

"Really?" you ask.

"That's why I asked if you had a girlfriend" now it all makes so much more sense.

She pulls you up and takes you to the guest room. She tries to lay you down on the bed but you pull her with you and she falls on top of you.

You both stare at each other and laugh a little.

"You're drunk, get some rest," she says, kissing your forehead.

"I'll be here when you wake up"

And she really is next to you when you wake up.

"Good morning..." you groan as you rub your eyes.

She smiles at you, "good morning" she says, from the look on her face you suspect she woke up just a few minutes before you.

You pull her closer to you by her collar and kiss her, she kisses you back while her hand is on your cheek.

The kiss is just perfect, gentle, slow, a perfect way to start his morning.

But it can also be perfect in another way.

It gets warmer under the covers as you continue kissing, she kisses down your jaw to your neck, leaving a trail of wet kisses on it. You can't help but rub your thighs together a little.

"What about the others?" you ask.

"I kicked them out yesterday after you fell asleep" she says, continuing to kiss your neck, even nibbling on it, making you let out soft moans.

"Jihyo, I think you should know that I am a virgin" you say, your cheeks heating up a little in embarrassment.

She giggles a little, kissing you on the lips again.

"Nothing to be embarrassed about baby" she replies with a smile.

She gets on top of you, continuing to kiss you.

You think kissing Jihyo is the best thing in the world.

Her hands trail over your body, giving you a soft squeeze here and there.

"Can I?" she asks, her hand playing with the buttons on your pants.

"Please" you answer with a smile.

She complies and opens them, pulling off your pants and leaving you in your underwear.

You sit up a little, your hands on her waist, feeling up her muscles, especially her abs.

"Want me to take it off?" she asks, you nod.

She pulls off her shirt over her head, dropping it somewhere on the floor.

Your finger trails up his stomach to her bra, looking at her like she is a work of art (she definetly is one).

"Done admiring me?" she asks with a teasing grin, to which you reply "never".

She leans down again, kissing your face as she starts to trail them down till he arrives at the waistband of your underwear.

"Can I?" she asks again, "yes" you answer, already out of breath.

She takes your underwear off, her hands placed on your thighs as she leaves kisses everywhere.

You can definetly tell that she has a thing for kissing.

When she places a kiss right on your clit though, you let out a small moan.

She begins licking and sucking on it, making you grab her hair with your hands as your fingers curl deeper into her scalp, leaving a delicious burn.

She drags her tongue down as she circles your core, slowly entering it a little.

You let out more moans as you turn your head to the side, moaning into the pillow.

Her tongue feels so good when you realise that you are closer and closer to your climax.

"Jihyo- I think I'm gonna-"

"Let it out princess" she mumbles against your core, the vibrations of her voice stimulating you even more as you cum into her mouth.

She smiles at you as he sits up, watching you coming down from your high.

You smile back at him as your cheeks turn red again.

"Can I?" she asks, her fingers trailing down your soft skin as her nails scratch you a little.

You look at her hand, a few veins poking out, her fingers thin but long.

You look at her again, nodding.

You pulled her closer as she rubs your clit with her fingers, you suck in your breath as she slowly pushes them in, the little stretch burning in a way that makes you even hornier.

She slips them in completly, you let out a moan in response. She takes your hand with her free one as your fingers intertwine.

She starts to slowly thrust into you, kissing you again as her tongue explores your mouth.

"You're so tight baby.." she mumbles into your mouth.

You can't help but let out louder moans when she starts to speed up a little.

Her fingers drive you crazy, it feels like she is everywhere, you feel her everywhere in your body as she exits and enters you.

"P-please jihyo- faster" you moan out, and who would she be if she wouldn't listen to your wishes?

She speeds up her thrusts, kissing down your neck again as her hot breath hits your skin.

Your hand grips the pillow your hand is laying on, moaning against your arm as you can feel Jihyo curling her fingers.

She thrusts into you again before you moan loudly, cumming as your thighs close around her wrist, panting heavily as she lets herself fall onto the spot next to you.

You both stare at the ceiling, the only sounds the heavy breathing from you.

You move her hand to yours and intertwine your fingers. She moves her head to the side to look at you, smiling.

You think seeing her smiling is something you can never get enough of.

Idiots in love, thats how you two can be described.

The next few months were full of love. Kisses here, kisses there. It didn't even have to be sexual, no, it was always romantic, no matter what you did together.

After a few months, she gave you a ring.

"One day I'll buy you an expensive, real diamond ring and ask you to marry me," she said, and since then you've both worn the matching rings without taking them off once.

If only it had stayed that way.

It's late at night, you're lying in bed reading a book when you get a message.

"I love you,

I'm sorry" - from Jihyo.

You sit up and stare at your cell phone.

"What's wrong?" you type and send the message, she replies,

"I can't take it anymore"

She can't take it anymore?

You feel a twinge in your head as you suddenly realize something.

It's too similar to Dahyun's goodbye.

"I can't live in this world anymore" she wrote in her text.

You look at her location, and without hesitation you walk, no - storm out of your apartment and run to her.

She's not far away, a bridge situated over a river only 5 minutes away, and you think you've never been so grateful for anything.

You squeeze your eyes shut, trying to see anything while your clothes get wetter and wetter, the rain completly drenches you.

Again it feels like a cliché love drama.

Only maybe this time you have the chance to have a happy ending.

Your legs are burning from all the running as you arrive on the bridge.

"Jihyo!" you shout, the rain pattering loudly on the asphalt, forcing you to shout even louder for her.

Her bike is right next to her, one leg over the railing, her hands gripping it tightly, as if she's...

Scared?

"Y/n?" she answers, her voice low and shaky.

"Please..." you say as you walk slowly towards her.

She doesn't stop you when you take her hand in yours.

"Why didn't you tell me?" you ask, she looks at you as a tear runs down her cheek.

"I-... I didn't want you to worry. I thought this feeling would go away if I didn't talk to anyone about it," she says.

Whether your face is wet from the rain or your tears, you don't know.

"Believe me, you have to talk to me, then it will get better," you say.

Her face comes closer to yours and, without answering, she kisses you.

You kiss her back, try to grab her so you can hold her closer - but she lets go.

Completely.

You slowly open your eyes, afraid of what you will see - but you see nothing.

No one.

The rain completely overwhelms you.

"No..." you whisper, looking down on the floor and picking up something shiny.

Her ring.

You look out over the railing and see the water turning slightly red.

It feels like you're trapped in a vicious circle, like you'll never find peace again.

You are trapped, with no way out.

While other people find the rain soothing, you find it to be more like torture.

While other people would stay indoors in weather like this, you're outside again.

Again in front of a grave.

But this time it's Jihyo's.

Everything feels too similar and you hate it more than anything.

"It's not your fault" is a sentence you started to hate.

You hoped so much that you would never have to hear or read it again.

"Why didn't you talk to me..." you whisper, as if she could hear you.

Your hand clutches the letter, it slowly getting soaked by the rain.

You don't dare to move.

"You knew what happened..."

All time does is passing -

"Why did you hide it from me..." Your voice is full of despair.

And all you ever do is grieve.

"Life without you is no way to live" the white flower falls on his grave -

just like her ring,

engraved with your name.

She helped you recover from Dahyun's death.

You just wish you wouldn't have to recover over her death alone now.

In another universe, you've seemed to found your place in Jihyo's arms.

In this universe, you're left alone,

again.

144 notes · View notes

sockablock · 2 days

Text

Rating: General Audiences (No Archive Warnings Apply) Words: 2,181 Summary: Wedding preparations are going off without a hitch until Senshi asks Falin whether her parents are coming. Marcille’s hands freeze mid-daisy twist. Chilchuck closes his eyes and waits. Kabru, who had given up on weaving hours ago and was mostly just watching the others make garlands, quietly casts his gaze to Laios. (or: Laios, Falin, and Marcille talk about parents.)

Wedding preparations are going off without a hitch until Senshi asks Falin whether her parents are coming.

Marcille’s hands freeze mid-daisy twist. Chilchuck closes his eyes and waits. Kabru, who had given up on weaving hours ago and was mostly just watching the others make garlands, quietly casts his gaze to Laios.

“I’ll have to know how much to mutton to serve,” Senshi continues. “Or would they prefer the eel serpent instead?”

Marcille can practically hear Chilchuck counting to ten under his breath. He only makes it to eight before Falin says, “Oh…I haven’t actually heard back from them yet—”

And Laios starts, “Of course they’re not—Falin, you what? You didn’t—”

“Yes,” Marcille interjects. “She invited them.”

Laios stands up so fast that his chair falls over and he hits the table. His robe send daisies scattering to the ground. “Wh—but…why would you do that?”

“Because they’re our parents, Laios,” Falin looks up at him. “They should be here when I get married.”

His expression darkness. “No they shouldn’t. Your wedding day is supposed to be happy.”

“It’s what she wants,” Marcille says, surprisingly forcefully. “It’s what will make her happy.”

“What do you know?” Laios snaps.

Marcille gasps. “I—that’s—” She seems too stunned or angry to speak. For a moment after, the garden is quiet as a graveyard, everyone fixed in horrified place.

Then Marcille shoots up and slaps the table. “It’s my wedding too!” she says.

“They’re our parents!”

“So what? You won’t even have to talk to them! They’ll be seated somewhere else!”

“Have you already thought this through? Why haven’t you said anything?”

“Because we knew you’d be—”

Laios turns to Falin, utterly betrayed. “Why didn’t you say anything?”

Falin looks like she’s about to cry, which is when Chilchuck and Kabru, acting almost in unison, grab Senshi and say, “Let’s go check on Izutsumi,” and half-drag, half-run themselves out of the garden.

Falin twists the edge of her shirt in her lap. Marcille huffs loudly. “See? This is exactly what we wanted to avoid—”

“Marcille,” Falin says.

“Huh?”

She takes Marcille’s hand. “Can you give us a second?”

Marcille starts. “Are you sure?”

“Yes.”

Laios has fixed his glower at the ground to staunchly avoid looking at Marcille.

She sighs. “Okay, fine. But seriously, if you need me, I’ll be right over—”

Falin squeezes her hand. “I know. Thanks.”

With one last glance –now wavering between righteousness and nervous regret – Marcille trudges out of the courtyard.

The energy seeps out of Laios in that moment, though his anger clearly remains. He sits down and grabs a daisy, comically tiny in his large, worn hands, and starts pinching the stem.

“I…when did you ask them?”

Falin walks around the stone picnic table to sit next to her brother. She spends most of her time barefoot these days – if she can get away with it – and hardly makes a sound as she moves.

Her shoulder bumps Laios’s. He doesn’t lean into it, but doesn’t shift away.

“I’m sorry I didn’t say anything earlier. I wrote to them right after we settled the date. I didn’t want…I know letters can take a while to reach them, so I didn’t want them to miss it.”

“I don’t know why you’re still writing to them,” Laios bites. It has less edge than before, though. “It’s not like they care.”

“That’s not true—” Falin begins.

“They sent you away!”

“They did everything they could first,” Falin says. She tries to firm her voice up as they begin treading on old ground, though it occurs to her that they’ve never spoken this plainly about it before. “And it was for the best, especially after you…” She bites her lip. Then flinches as her fangs draw a bead of blood.

“Falin!” Laios says, looking alarmed. “Are you okay?”

She wipes at her mouth. “Don’t worry, brother.” She tries for a smile. “I still forget I have these sometimes.”

Falin knows Laios well enough to see him grapple with the urge to say something about dragon-chimera teeth sharpness while also stay mad enough to be taken seriously.

“I am really sorry,” Falin says again before Laios can pass out from the internal struggle. “You’re right. I should have said something.”

Laios’s shoulders slump. He sighs and reaches for another daisy.

“I do know why you’re still writing to them,” he admits, tying two stems together. “I know that the way you feel about them is different than the way I do. It is your wedding. If you want them there, that’s all that matters.”

She puts a hand on his shoulder. “I wasn’t trying to hide it from you. I was only going to bring it up if they said they were coming, otherwise I would have worried you for nothing. But…I ended up hiding it from you anyway, and that was wrong.”

“Would you have uninvited them if I asked you to?”

“Of course,” Falin says immediately. “I want you to have a good time too. It’s important to me that it’s a happy day for everyone I care about.”

Laios manages a tiny grin at that. He holds up the start of his flower chain. “You know, if you’re worried about how long it’s taking them to answer, I can just summon them here. I am the king of a whole country, after all.” Then his face goes slack. “You’ve told them I’m the king, right?”

“Er…”

Laios groans when Falin trails off. “They don’t even know yet?”

“They might,” Falin says quickly. “I’ve written to them and said that you beat the Lord of the Dungeon and people really like you for it. And Chilchuck says that pretty much everyone in the world has heard the story by now.” At Laios’s expression, Falin amends, “Maybe not everyone. Maybe just…mostly everyone.”

Laios sighs. “I really hate being king, you know. Well—that’s not what I mean. It’s important to me that I’m able to change people’s minds and make a place where everyone I care about is happy. And I know I can only do that because I’m the king. But…I didn’t even care about all that ‘leadership’ stuff when we were kids, let alone now.”

“That’s what makes you a good at it,” Falin says.

“I know,” Laios’s mouth quirks. “That’s what Kabru and Marcille keep—oh, Marcille. Shoot. I need to talk to her.”

Laios moves to stand, but Falin reaches a hand out and catches him by the wrist. “Wait,” she says. “About that—”

“I know,” Laios groans, “I shouldn’t have yelled—”

“No,” Falin says. “It’s not just that. Has she…talked to you about her invitations yet?”

“Huh?” Laios blinks. “Oh, uh, no. Why?”

Falin’s gaze casts downward. “She was defending me, but it’s not only that. You should ask her about it.”

“Uh, okay,” Laios says. “Is that all?”

Falin lets go of his sleeve. “Yep.”

***

Laios finds Marcille sullenly conjuring little butterflies out of the courtyard’s central fountain and making them chase each other around the statue of a particularly ugly fish. When she notices him approaching, the butterflies all shake and collapse into waves of water.

She waits until he’s a few feet away from her before saying, “I know you think it’s going to be awful, but ever since Falin sent the invitation I’ve been thinking really hard about this. There’s lots of tables, and you’ll be next to Falin and me at the head one, so if we put some decorative hedges between us, you won’t even be able to see them.”

“I don’t think Falin would have invited our parents just to hide them behind a bush the whole night,” Laios says. “Can I sit?”

Marcille eyes him warily, then exhales. Her ears droop when the tension leaves her. “I owe you an apology, don’t I?”

Laios sits in the grass and leans against the edge of the fountain next to Marcille’s staff. “I do too. Um, maybe even more than one, right?”

“What do you mean?”

Laios rubs the back of his neck sheepishly. “Well, I don’t actually know. Falin was kind of vague about it.”

“Did she tell you about my mom?” Marcille says, suddenly rigid again.

“Oh” Laios says, now incredibly out of his depth. “No?”

“Oh.” Marcille slumps.

Laios nudges her leg in a sign of peace. “Has something about your mother been bothering you?” His mouth opens when the clues finally line up. “Oh, Marcille. Is she not coming?”

Marcille knocks her staff over when she leans down to grab Laios around the neck and start to cry.

“Sff…yes…I mean…no. But it’s—it’s more complicated than that.”

Laios adjusts his position so he can pat Marcille on the back. Teary rivulets stick to the fur of his cloak.

“Marcille…I’m so sorry.”

“She…it’s not that she doesn’t want to be there. Not at all.” Marcille sniffs. “But—politically, it’s really hard for her right now. The human court she works for is basically controlled by the Western Elves. And they aren’t exactly our enemies, but they’ve made it pretty clear that they’re watching us carefully. And…I’m technically criminal, and even though Falin is the king’s sister, pretty much everyone knows she’s a chimera, which my mom doesn’t care about, but lots of other people do, so…”

“So she can’t come,” Laios says.

“No,” Marcille says. “But it’s not yours or Falin’s faults,” she adds with the next breath. “Seriously, I don’t want either of you beating yourselves up about it. It’s just the way things are. And my mom would probably want to bring her new husband with her anyway, which…” Marcille makes an expression that is only worsened by her red cheeks and runny nose.

Laios chooses not to ask Marcille to elaborate, instead passing her a handkerchief. Marcille blows her nose loudly.

“I just thought that if neither of my parents could be there, at least yours and Falin’s could.”

The fountain burbles gently behind them.

“Right,” Laios says.

“You’re lucky, you know,” Marcille adds quietly. “Not that—no, I’m not saying you should be grateful, or anything, and I don’t really approve of the way they treated your or Falin either. I mean, they’re old enough to know better.”

“Uh, right,” Laios says, slightly less certainly.

“I wish it was easier,” Marcille finishes. “That’s all.”

The two of them sit together in silence for a moment, watching pale wisps of clouds trail across the afternoon sky.

“What if she wore a disguise?” Laios says eventually, breaking the spell.

Marcille snorts in surprise. “What?”

“Or casts an illusion spell. She can, right? Then no one would even have to know.”

“I—I guess I didn’t think of that.”

“You were busy trying to figure out how to put my parents up a tree?”

“It wouldn’t have been up a tree!” Marcille laughs and slaps Laios on the shoulder. “If they’re going to be my in-laws, I at least want them to like me.”

“Did you know Falin hasn’t even told them I’m a king, yet?”

“She told me she wasn’t sure if you wanted them to know, so she didn’t mention it.”

Laios and Marcille share a look. “That sounds like Falin,” Laios says.

“Do you want them to know?” Marcille asks. “It might actually be good for us, especially since the North is usually so apolitical.”

“Er, is it?” Laios says, and Marcille rolls her eyes.

“Aren’t you from there?”

“I was a kid—”

“Then aren’t any of Kabru’s lessons sinking in?”

“Of course they are,” Laios says defensively. “Did you know that gnomes have a special ceremony they perform when young gnomes come of age? It’s called the—”

“I mean lessons about things other than how cool other races are. Like diplomacy? And tactics?”

Laios sinks slightly lower into the grass. “Yes,” he says petulantly.

“Really?” Marcille says.

“Sort of?”

Marcille laughs. She’s about to add something else when suddenly, loud clamoring echoes from the open hall opposite the courtyard and Izutsumi shouts her way into view, closely trailed by Chilchuck, Senshi, and Kabru, all urgently trying to pull her back.

“—do you mean, not now? I didn’t waste all that time picking daisies for nothing—oh, there they are!”

“No, seriously—” Chilchuck begins, then they all freeze when they spot Laios and Marcille.

“Oh,” Kabru blinks. “Is…are we interrupting anything?”

“We can come back,” Senshi adds. “I get it now.” He also winks, which is more confusing.

“It’s okay,” Marcille calls back. “Actually, we should all get back to the table, now. We’ve been slacking for long enough!”

“Did I miss something?” Izutsumi asks. “Why isn’t anyone working on the necklaces?”

“They’re not necklaces,” Marcille sighs. “They’re garlands. Falin says that in the North—”

“Why don’t we let her explain it?” Laios stands. “Come on. We should probably make a few extra too, just in case. So it’s good you brought more daisies, Izutsumi.”

"You're welcome," she preens.

And then they all go together to find Falin.

#dungeon meshi #delicious in dungeon #farcille #touden siblings #laios touden #falin touden #marcille donato #jay writes #long post #fanfiction #fanfic #dungeon meshi fic #oneshot #manga spoilers

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whatwewrotepodcast · 11 hours

Text

Equestrian Writing Resource

Hi everyone,

I've seen some how to write horses posts going around recently that contain some . . very not true things about horses. As a Certified Horse Girl TM I thought I might clarify a few things for any one out there wanting to write anything that includes horses.

My credentials are that I've been riding for as long as I remember, have owned horses for 15 years and currently compete at a state and national level in dressage.

Facts below the cut!

Travelling by horseback

Horses cannot gallop or even canter endlessly. This is something I see a lot of in movies and games and media like that. Even an extremely fit horse can only really gallop flat out for 10-15 minutes. A steady canter they can go for longer, but if you watch endurance races (where horses are ridden for 100s of kms over sometimes several days), the riders will mix periods of walk and trot to let the horses catch their breath and recover.

There are a couple of reasons for this. Horses do not have strong enough diaphragms to inflate their lungs fully. There are some cursed interior nonsenses going on here, but essentially at a gallop, a horse can only breathe once per stride. This means there is only a matter of time before they are no longer able to get enough oxygen to their muscles.

Which leads into the next thing . . .

Horses get hot easily and can struggle to cool down

Horses sweat, just like humans, but because of their mass, their interior temp can get very high and may need assistance to be brought down. That's why at the end of a cross country course (where horses are galloping for anywhere between 5-12 minutes and jumping fences) they often have buckets of water thrown on them to help them cool down.

A well trained horse can be ridden by anyone

I've seen some posts around recently that said that horses will try and throw off unfamiliar riders and that you can't ride a horse who doesn't know you. This is . . . ridiculous. If your horse has been trained properly anyone can get on and ride it. Ride it well? Maybe not, but if the person is a good rider they'll be able to do the basics. I've ridden my friends horses, and they've ridden my horse. I've put an 8 year old on my horse and let her walk around. If you horse is so insane it tosses anyone other than you, you've done a terrible job training it.

However, if a horse has not been broken to saddle, then yes, if you try and hop on it, it will probably try and get rid of you. If you just try and get on a horse bareback in the paddock, it will probably go poorly. A lot of horses don't take well to being ridden bareback initially, but they can all get used to it in time.

Horses are sensitive but you can just let them graze

It's a common joke amongst horse people that horses will drop dead of anything and this is true to an extent, but they would be entirely unviable lifeforms if you had to inspect every patch of grass before you let them eat it. In general, horses won't eat toxic plants if they have a choice. I'm not sure how people thing mustangs and other feral horses survive in the wild if every paddock needs to be check for toxic plants because horses can't tell what will kill them and what won't. It's usually perfectly fine to let your horse graze outside their paddock. On that note - if you horse breaks into the feed shed, it *can* cause colic, and depending what they eat, it can be an extremely serious circumstance, but also many horses break into feed sheds, gorge themselves, and walk away fine. Mine has done it more than once.

Horse riding IS hard

One thing other posts have gotten correct is that riding a horse is hard. It's not something you can do well from the get go no matter how amazing you are. Riding a horse the first few times will make muscles hurt you didn't even know you had. Riding a dressage test gets my heart rate nearly as high as going for a run.

Horses are kinda smart . . and kinda stupid

Yes horses all have personalities and they can be really clever, but they can also be extremely stupid and this is because they are flight animals. Some are braver, some are smarter, some are stupid, some are flighty. But a horse is generally not as smart as a dog, and some of them are as dumb as a bag of rocks.

Riding bareback is hard and not good for your horse's back

There's a reason we invented saddles and it's to help distribute a rider's weight more evenly over the horse's back. Horse spines are suspended like a cable between their hips and shoulders. There is nothing in the middle to hold it up but muscle, and you sit right on that thing. Riding bareback puts a lot of weight and pressure on their spine and the muscles around it. Riding with a (well fitted) saddle will help distribute the weight. However, well fitted is the key thing here. You can't just put any saddle on any horse. If the saddle doesn't fit, it can cause rubbing, pain, and eventually long term damage. It's best practice to get a saddle fitted every 12 months at least.

Sweat doesn't really make your horse more slippery though and if you saddle slides right off, your girth wasn't done up tight enough or some part of your tack failed.

Horses should be tied up while you tack and untack

Horses are flight animals and they will piss off if something scares them, which can be dangerous if they're half-tacked or untacked. However, if your horse tries to bite you just because you haven't tied them up then you are doing something that is causing them discomfort or you haven't trained them properly. For the love of god don't let your horse bite you?? What is wrong with you?? The girth should not be painful or uncomfortable for the horse. You don't need to do it as tightly as possible, just enough that it won't slide. Most horses have what is called a "girth groove" which is where the girth sits in front of their ribcage. Because their shoulder is in front and their rib cage widens out behind, the girth sitting in the groove stops the saddle moving.

Training a horse does take a while . . . but them liking you doesn't really factor

Training or breaking a horse to take a saddle and accept a bit and aids does take a long time. You can't just jump on a feral horse and expect them to listen to you. Horses are usually backed (sat on) at between 4-6 years old but they may have had a saddle and bit on for short periods before hand. Horses don't accept tack because they care about whether it helps their rider not fall off, they do it because they have been trained to do it.

Crops and spurs

Crops (whips) and spurs are both aids that, when used properly, cue horses to perform certain movements. Both are more than capable of being abused. You can hurt a horse with a whip just as easily as with a spur, however, used properly, a spur allows you to make smaller, more finnessed aids with your leg than using your heel. A whip or crop can be used in a similar way, especially with horses who like to swing their shoulders or hips one way or the other - the whip just extends your reach.

English vs western

English and western are the two main styles of riding that are most common these days.

English riding includes dressage, jumping, and eventing. These sports are complicated so I won't go into them, but generally the saddles are lighter and allow for a closer connection to the horse, and more ability to move in the saddle - to stand in the stirrups, to get deeper into the saddle, etc.

Western riding is more ranch style riding, and include disciplines like reining, barrel racing, cutting and other sports involving cows. Western saddles are what you see in cowboy movies, and tend to be much heavier and more restrictive - they down allow you to move around so much.

Horses can be affectionate

It does depend a bit on the horse, but horses can absolutely be affectionate. They do this by calling out to you, coming over to you in the paddock, and sniffing and nuzzling at you. They do think with their stomach though, and a great way to get your horse to be excited to see you is to always bring them food.

Horses don't neigh that much

This is a big bug bear in movies. Horses really really really don't usually neigh that much. In fact, they don't make a lot of noise at all in general. They will call to their friends sometimes, and they make a range of whuffling, nickering, snuffling sounds, snorts and grunts, but the way movies show horses screaming their heads off all the time is totally false. They're usually pretty quiet.

That's it for now, but feel free to reach out if you have any other questions. I hope this post spreads as far as the other one did because. . .yikes there was a lot of wrong information in there!

#writeblr #writing #writers of tumblr #am writing #writer #write #writers #writing tips #horses #horsblr #horses of tumblr #dressage #equestrian

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annaraebananawriter · 3 days

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(Request) I Bet You Were the Best Brother

It's been a while since I posted a oneshot, so I hope this 5k one manages to make up for that.

As I've mentioned before, been going through a bit of a writer's block that is finally going away. Some it still lingers, but it is infinitely better. Feels like I can breathe again. So, everyone reading this that struggles with writer's block at the moment--know that it will go away. You will be able to write again. It's not a matter of if, only when. You will be able to write again.

Anyway, I don't have any other major life updates for you, so I guess I'll let you start reading now. Happy reading! Let me know what you thought!!

Fandom: Undertale/UTMV

Characters: Dream and Nightmare (Who belong to Joku)

Warnings: A character losing their memory and swearing and I think that’s it. Let me know!

Summary: Ilike_cringe (Fri 14 Oct 2022): "here is a request :>. Could you make it that nightmare might have hit dream tooo hard in a fight that (bear with me ) Dream lost his memory ( if you could could you add more spice \^o^/)"

Word Count: 5395

~oOo~

Nightmare wanted there to be a note that the fight started off normal.

His gang showed up, causing some ruckus. He hung out in the background observing, soaking in the new misery like a sponge, keeping an eye out for the tell-tale sign that the Star Sanses had shown up. In today’s case, that ended up being an arrow flying at one of his boys, which barely got dodged, the blue glow disappearing as it left eyesight. Grinning, he had taken it as his cue to join in, grabbing Dream by the ankles as he notched another one, and throwing him across the space.

Not too hard, of course. He didn’t want his brother out of commission quite yet. That was always the fun part about the fight, seeing him defeated. It needs to be drawn out a bit, though, for it to be really satisfying.

Dream recovered from the toss quickly, though he was soaked head to toe—he had unintentionally tossed him into the river. Whoops. The annoyed look on his brother’s face made his grin widen even more. They quickly fell into their routine after that, trading blows and insults, slowly moving away from the others. Another toss had them entering the woods, which resulted in a lot of fallen trees, a clear indicator of where they’d gone.

A cliff came into view, with Dream’s back to it. Nightmare didn’t take much note of it at the time, too preoccupied—his brother had just gotten a pretty bad hit to the back of his skull, making him stumble. Pausing for a minute, he gave him some time to get his bearings back before attacking again, pushing him closer to the cliff edge.

So…technically, this whole thing could be considered his fault, but how was he supposed to know what would happen?

The cliff seemed perfectly safe in the normal dangerous way!

This means the fight was going great until the cliff crumbled under Dream’s feet, making him shriek, eyes widening, his bow dispersing as he pinwheeled backward. Nightmare froze, staring at the now absent spot with eyes equally as wide, tentacles raised to strike.

Then it went silent.

“…shit,” he hissed, automatically turning around in case his brother teleported at the last second to safety. It wouldn’t be the first time, so it shouldn’t be the last time.

No one was there.

He waited.

Still no one.

Maybe Dream was just in shock, still picking himself up. Turning back, Nightmare stepped closer to the cliff, small rocks tumbling after the larger ones from his movements. If he leaned over, he could probably tell…ah, no. Nope, that was just a bunch of trees. His brother was probably under those trees. Probably just picking himself up.

He’ll return in no time.

Nightmare just had to wait.

So, he did.

For one minute. Then two. Then…honestly, he lost track of the minutes after that, glancing back and forth around the clearing, looking over his shoulder at the cliff like Dream would just suddenly appear, having climbed up for some stupid reason. Any minute now, the fight will be back on, continuing as usual…any minute now…

…any minute…

…any—

Okay, so.

Something was wrong.

Turning back to the cliff, he glared at the edge. It was its fault this was happening. Why did it decide to crumble now? Particularly when Dream was on it? Why?

Now his brother was somewhere below, dazed as hell, without the clear thinking necessary to teleport, or injured badly enough to be unconscious—and as soon as that thought popped into existence, he shoved it away, then took time to quell the rising panic in his soul.

No, no, that’s not possible. Dream’s far more durable than that. Sure, it’s a cliff, and cliff’s cause damage, even to immortal beings, but still. His brother could heal, so shouldn’t that work on himself, make him more…invulnerable, or something? Unless…he couldn’t actually heal himself and he’s just been assuming that he could this entire time…no, that couldn’t be possible. Nightmare’s pretty sure he’d remember that if it were the case.

So…what happened?

Maybe…maybe Dream was just staying down there for a while.

He’ll probably join again in a bit.

Yeah, that’s probably it. So, he should really go back and help his boys. Hey, maybe Dream’s already there! Maybe he went to his friends instead. Makes sense, makes sense…

He should go help his boys now, he’s been standing here too long.

And…he wasn’t moving.

Why wasn’t he moving?

Dream’s fine. He’s back at the main fight. It’s something that’s happened before. It should be something that happened here. It’s fine. He can go back. So…what kept him here, staring around like his brother would magically appear, a tight feeling in his chest that threatened to steal the air away from his non-existent lungs?

Maybe…maybe he should just go down there, check on Dream—

That was another thought pushed away. No, hell no. If he gave in to that though, if he went down there to check, now, after too much time has already passed for that to be considered just moving the fight along, that’d be…that’s cause his brother to hope. Hope that things could go back to the way things were before the apples. He can’t go through the painstaking steps needed to crush that hope, put off the last stubborn spark that remained until he was sure it wouldn’t create another flame. Not again.

Besides, he didn’t even care. Not that much. Sure, yeah, he cared somewhat, always would—that’s just naturally part of being a brother. But the majority of how much he cared was in the past, before everything was plucked off a tree in the form of a black apple and devoured. That care no longer exists, taken over by the need to win all these fights, making the scales tip in his direction.

It just…didn’t exist. He didn’t care.

(Some days, it was harder to convince himself of this fact than others.

This was one of them.)

He didn’t care, so he should so rejoin his boys, and get out of this AU.

This time, he teleported.

It was an easy win. Dream never came back.

When it came time to go home, Nightmare couldn’t stop his gaze from wandering away from his boys, who were celebrating as usual, over to the trees. In the direction of the cliff, even if he couldn’t see it from here.

The tight feeling in his chest squeezed and squeezed. His tentacles flicked nervously behind him. For some reason, he kept thinking that now was the moment his brother would appear, now was the moment he could stop all this silly, stupid worry, go back to being angry. And the longer he looked, the more that thought wavered and shook, gathering speed as it transformed into a tornado that threatened to consume all of his other priorities until he made sure Dream was okay. But the only way to do that was to go and check, and leaving now would just make the boys confused and worried, which he could not handle right now.

Besides, he was sure it was fine.

He got them all home before he could convince himself otherwise, before the urge to make sure was too overpowering. To make sure he was really distracted, he holed himself up in his office, pulling out some paperwork—which wasn’t even real paperwork, just a bunch of sudoku and word searches and other puzzles printed out to make it look like he was working on important stuff.

For the most part, it worked. Kept his mind too busy to think about what happened.

Then he got to one particular word search that—and he is not joking or exaggerating this part—had three words at the bottom for him to find, all in a row, that read: ‘Dream’, ‘injury’, and ‘concussion’. Isn’t that just the strangest collection of words you’ve ever seen? The surreal coincidence of the words made Nightmare stare down at the page for a minute, completely gobsmacked. Who the hell was writing these word searches, and why the fuck did they include these three specific words on the same one?

It was like a sign or something…

Sneering, Nightmare tore the word search up into tiny pieces, sitting back in his chair, spinning around and around. Trying very hard not to think about the three words. And how his brother never came back. And how the yelp he let out when he fell just fell silent and how he never bothered to check and—

And now he was thinking about it.

“Fuck.”

Growling to himself, he stopped spinning in his chair. Then, he promptly stood and teleported back to the AU.

Leaning over the cliff again, he teleported down. His brother wasn’t anywhere in the immediate proximity—though, why would he be? This was all just a waste of time—so he started walking around, ducking under some tree branches. When he fell, Dream would’ve had to have landed somewhere around here…though he still wasn’t sure why he was searching.

His brother was probably gone by now. His friends probably came to collect him.

Why did he think he’d find him here, lying on the ground as if nothing happened? As if he just decided to take an impromptu nap, in the snow and in wet clothes and…

Oh. Oh, shit.

That was actually Dream lying there in front of him.

Fuck.

Almost tripping over himself, Nightmare hurried over, falling to his knees beside his brother. His hands hovered in the air around him, unsure what to do. “Dream?” he called, hoping to wake him up. Nothing happened.

Dream didn’t move.

For a soul-stopping moment, Nightmare actually thought he might be dead. Panic swirled in his chest, choking him, until he remembered that if they were dead, their body would turn to dust. Presumably, anyway, since they had no real way of knowing that until they…y’know…actually died, but still. The thought allowed him to gather himself enough to Check his brother, make sure of it. It said he was fine, if missing a chunk of health.

Nightmare breathed out, hating how shaky it was. “Idiot, making me worry for nothing…” he muttered to himself, looking down at his brother, frowning. Shaking his shoulder, he raised his voice a bit, eager to wake him up, make sure he left to wherever, hopefully back to his friends, and get home himself before his boys wondered where he went off to. “Dream. Wake up.”

No response. Dream was still. Breathing—he double-checked, just to be sure—but still.

Frowning, he shook him again, rougher. Still nothing.

Even unconscious, his brother insisted on being annoying. Scowling, he sat back on his heels. “If you don’t wake up, I’m going to kick you.”

Nothing.

Welp. His hand was forced.

Standing, Nightmare kicked Dream in the side—not too hard, of course, he’s not a complete monster. Just enough that he woke up.

Which he did.

Finally.

Nightmare rolled his eye to himself, crossing his arms as he watched his brother groan, coming to. A hand half-raised to his head before stopping, eyes blinking open and squinting against the light. His eyelights were paler than normal, just a hair bigger, too. He could see the exact moment they focused in, his brother clocking that there’s someone standing above him, but Dream didn’t panic, didn’t seem to be anything more than confused.

Dream blinked again. “Hi.”

Nightmare raised a brow bone. Seriously? That’s it? He fought the urge to roll his eye again. “What are you still doing here?”

His brother seemed to get more confused. “What?”

Wondering if the fall knocked loose some brain cells, Nightmare scowled. “What do you mean, ‘what’? You know what. What are you still doing here? This is, like, the most uncomfortable spot to have a nap.” Without waiting for him to answer, he continued, waving a hand around. He couldn’t let the opportunity to mock him go by. “And why didn’t you rejoin the fight? I thought you had a duty to protect the positivity in the multiverse.”

“Um…” Dream blinked for a third time, squeezing his eyes shut tightly. He laughed, nervously, like a reflex, and when he opened his eyes again, they were fuzzy again. “Sorry, you went a bit fast for me there. Could you repeat that?”

Ugh. Now he was just being difficult.

“You’re so annoying.” Nightmare said, stepping away. “Just get up and get out of here.”

Looking up at him, the words seemed to take a few minutes to sink in. Then, nodding, Dream tried to stand, movements jerky, as if he was figuring out how to move them for the first time again. When he stood, he wobbled, tilting over a bit before righting himself.

Nightmare realized he had stepped forward, ready to catch him should he fall, and retreated, tucking his hands back into his arms.

Damnit. He was slipping. He had to get out here, fast.

“I’m alright.” Dream said, clearly noticing his misstep. He was smiling. Nightmare had to look away before the sight made him feel warm inside. “Just a bit dizzy.”

“Whatever,” Nightmare said in return, leaving it at that.

Still smiling, his brother shifted on his feet, looking down at his hands and clenching them into fists a couple of times. His gaze wandered back up to him, and then away, looking around them with a curious, still confused, look. It was almost like he was trying to figure out where he was, as if he wasn’t just in a fight here earlier.

He couldn’t have forgotten that fast, could he? And what was he still doing here?

Shouldn’t he be opening a portal by now?

“What are you waiting for?”

Snapping back to look at him, Dream didn’t seem to understand the question. “Huh?”

Waving a hand again, tentacles flicking behind him, Nightmare’s scowl deepened. Why the fuck was he acting so weird? “Open a portal already and go home. Your friends are probably worried sick by now.”

(He ignored the voice in his head that said he was starting to get worried, too.)

“Right, right.” Dream nodded, trying and failing to look like he knew what he was talking about. “A portal…see, um, I would do that…but, uh…” Looking around again, shifting some more, his smile turned sheepish. “Well, I don’t remember, exactly, how to do that.”

Nightmare did not return the smile, unamused. He just stared.

What the fuck? What was he playing at? What was the point in drawing all this out? Nostalgia? What did he get out of acting so weird? What was going on here?

“Do you think this is a fucking game?” Nightmare asked, voice slipping off into a growl. His tentacles moved restlessly. He was getting agitated now. He just wanted to go home, get back to his puzzles, and maybe sleep for a week. But no, he was here, playing along with this stupidness, unable to get a grasp on what was happening.

Dream looked alarmed, holding his hands up and shaking them furiously. “No! No—”

“Then why the fuck are you wasting my time? I come out here, in the middle of the evening, to make sure you’re good, and you decide to, what, pull a joke on me?” Unable to curb his irritation, he shook his head, rubbing a hand down his face. “Stars, I hate you. I’m reminded now why I don’t bother doing this for you. You never take it seriously.” Turning he started to walk away, hearing Dream stutter excuses behind him.

He didn’t want to hear any excuses. He was done. He was going home.

“It’s not—I’m not joking,” Dream called after him, footsteps crunching on the snow as he chased after him.

“Of course, you are!” Nightmare sighed, in annoyance or anger or both of them combined. He didn’t care anymore. “You always are!” He didn’t bother stopping or turning around. Just continued on. And then he remembered he didn’t have to walk away at all, could just make a portal out. Turning his annoyance to himself, he raised a hand to do so—

“I don’t remember that.”

—and stopped.

The statement struck the right chord, making something inside him fall to the pit of his stomach, pricking him uncomfortably. Slowly, he turned to face Dream again, paying more attention. “…what?”

“I—I don’t remember that,” Dream said, tone so genuine, eyes so wide and confused and even scared that it seemed to create a physical attack on his soul. Raising a hand, his brother held it to his head. “I thought if I waited a bit, I might remember something, but I don’t. It’s all just…blank. I don’t know anything you’re talking about, like the fight or my friends. I place any faces to them or names or anything.” He let his hand fall, shaking his head as he turned his gaze down to his feet, speaking softly. “I just don’t remember.”

The words pushed Nightmare out of the present, sending him spiraling into the black hole opening in his ribs, right where his soul is. They pressed in on him, reverberating, turning into a high pitch that buzzed inside him, threatening to cut off his breath.

He didn’t want to believe the words. In fact, he was trying his absolute best not to. Excuses flew through, nitpicking through the explanation and finding words that betrayed the real truth. He told himself over and over that no matter what, no matter how injured he got, Dream would never allow this to happen. His brother would hold onto himself with an iron grip, too desperate to let go, and the Multiverse would allow him to hold on because it was just another being that favored him. They would not let their favorite Guardian lose his precious memories, not for all the stories it brought them.

No, it just wasn’t possible. He was lying—though the reason why was unclear, and nothing could really justify it, he had to be lying. It was a trick, a ploy, maybe even a trap. Yes, that’s it. Any minute now, the other Star Sanses would jump out, pull their weapons, and Dream would drop this façade and go back to pleading with him and when it didn’t work, when Nightmare lashed out in anger, he would pull out his bow and—and—

It just---it had to be a trick.

It had to.

It…

His eyes didn’t look like he was lying, though.

No matter how long he searched, how close he looked, it was a blank sheet of gold. He found confusion, yes, he found anxiety—nothing new there—but he did not find any recognition. Hope and helplessness, but no relief in having someone he knew find him. Even now, as his brother looked around the clearing, he only saw curiosity, as if he hadn’t seen this place before, as if he had just arrived, as if he had just woken up and was in an unfamiliar place with unfamiliar faces. The eyes came back to his, smiled at him, and—

And they were still blank.

A ghost.

The black hole in his ribs widened, pulling him in faster. Digging his heels in, he resisted with everything he had, swimming back out. He had to confirm this, he told himself, had to make sure this was the truth. If there was any chance he did remember, whether that be his friends or his title or Night—

Well, Nightmare just had to find it. He had to.

He heard himself speak before he was fully back in his body. “Did you hit your skull?”

“Ah, maybe?” Dream tilted his head, reaching around to the base of it before retracting quickly, wincing. “Yes. Yeah, I did.”

“Turn around.”

Obedient, Dream did, and Nightmare stepped closer, observing the crack. It wasn’t as bad as he was expecting—certainly not as big—but it was still enough to make bile climb up the back of his throat. Swallowing it down, he darted his gaze around it, taking in the gaping black hole, about the size of a cherry, thinner cracks webbing out from around it. It had blood crusted on the edges, and he was sure that if he took the time to look around the cliff, he’d find matching spots.

Absently reaching out, he traced along the wound with his fingers. Stars, how he wished he knew how to heal. This would be so much easier.

Dream pulled away after his fingers made contact, and he let his hand fall as he turned back, already apologizing. “Sorry! Sorry, that just…really hurt.” He laughed again, but it petered out as he caught sight of Nightmare’s face. “Oh…that bad of a sight, huh?”

“You said…” Nightmare swallowed again, ignoring those words. “You said you don’t remember anything?” The feeling in the pit of his stomach clenched.

“No.” Oblivious, Dream shook his head. “The latest memory I have is of you standing over me. Before that…” Tilting his head again, his brother thought about it, ultimately coming up with nothing. No spark in his eyes. “Nothing.” He looked regretful, like he wished he could be of more help. “Sorry.”

There he went again, apologizing.

Nightmare was going to have to have a talk with him about that. He can’t keep saying sorry for things that he didn’t need to say sorry for in the first place.

First, however, was dealing with—this.

“So…” He didn’t want to ask the next question. It burned in his throat, made his tongue curl in preparation, the words too ugly to even think about. Why did it need to be said? He already knew the answer to it. Why did he insist on asking it when he knew what was going to be said? He would rather them stand like this forever than ask it.

That was a risk, though. And he would really like to get some sleep tonight—even if that might be impossible the longer this sank in. They should really wrap this up soon.

That meant asking uncomfortable questions.

Swallowing himself down, Nightmare let the question go. It couldn’t hurt to ask, anyway. “You don’t remember me?” The words lingered in the air, an odd hint of emotion to them, something fragile and vulnerable.

(He knew the answer to why he wanted to ask this.

Somehow, somewhere inside him, there was still a need that maybe something would be remembered. If the longer they talked, the greater the chance the memories would just snap back into place. That the hollow feeling of having someone you grew up with look at you like one would a stranger would disappear, replaced by joy or anger or tears, anything else.

Inside, if nothing else, he needed there to be a chance he’d be remembered.)

It felt like hope.

“No.” Dream answered, the shaking of his head feeling like salt poured into open wounds. He seemed disappointed in himself, upset he couldn’t help. For him, this was failing at giving someone what they wanted.

For Nightmare, this was confirmation.

(It felt like denial.)

(There was a stinging in his chest. Where did it come from?)

“Where you someone important?”

Nightmare automatically bristled. “I—” He stopped himself, glaring down at the ground while clenching his jaw.

His instinct was to say that, of course he was. He was Dream’s brother. They grew up together. They were, still are, two halves of the same coin, two halves to the same balance. Despite everything, that had to mean something.

But that wasn’t the truth, was it?

Not anymore.

Maybe one time, before The Incident, before the villagers came to them. It was just the two of them, after all. And Mother, but she couldn’t really say much, or do anything beyond existing. Maybe then they were each other’s most important person. And maybe it would’ve stayed that way had everything not gone to shit.

But the point was, that was in the past.

Whatever they had, it was gone. In more ways than one now…

Inhaling, Nightmare looked away, shoving his hands into his pockets. “That…depends on your definition of important.”

They had other people in their lives now. He had his gang, his boys. Though he often complained about their foolishness and called them idiots, not once had he ever wished he hadn’t met them. Dream, he knew, felt much the same about Ink and Blue. Neither of them would trade their friends for the world.

Even for each other.

“I was—” Nightmare sighed, rolling back his shoulders. “I’m your brother. Nightmare.” He forced himself to look back at Dream, even if the eye contact burned his soul with something uncomfortable. “Your name is Dream, by the way. In case you forgot that, too.”

“Cool!” Dream paused and gasped, beaming as he made the connection. “Our names match!”

“Yeah.” Nightmare said, forcing himself to smile back. “Yeah, they do.” Of course they did, he thought to himself. That’s the reason why they chose the names.

Brow furrowing, Dream tilted his head. “Wait, if we’re brothers, wouldn’t I just live with you, then?”

“What?” Nightmare felt himself frown in return. “Why do you think we’d live together?”

Strange, considering Dream didn’t even remember him.

(There was that stinging again.)

“I-I don’t know, I just…I have this feeling that brothers should be living together. That they need to live together. I don’t know why, but it’s a very strong feeling.” Dream raised a hand to his chest, hovering over where his soul would be. “When I think about you, um, that feeling gets all…strange.”

This caught his attention. “Strange?”

“Yeah.” Nodding slowly, Dream worked through it, finding what to call it. “I think it…I think it turns jealous, somehow.”

Nightmare stared.

Jealous…?

That couldn’t be right. Dream had to be reading it wrong.

There was nothing to be jealous about. His brother always had the perfect life. What more could he want?

If anything, he should be the one jealous. He’s the only one who deserves to be jealous. Jealous of the way people were always drawn to his brother over himself, the way people thought everything of the sun and nothing of the moon, even though they both shared the same light. It was his right to be envious, his right to look upon the past and view it with bitterness. It was his right to look at the present, now, when Dream still has his friends and his standing and still has everyone revolving around him.

At least he can find relief, find arrogance, in the fact that he found his own friends, his own group of people who looked up to him. It took years, it took work, but he found them.

He didn’t need Dream anymore.

(So, what if sometimes he looked at his brother and his friends and felt a longing to join them?

So, what if he found the way they laughed, the way they treated each other, a reminder that he’s done too many things to be treated like that again?

So, what if he’s tired of fighting all the time and wants to go back to how things were, while knowing that could never happen, while looking across the battlefield into golden eyes that reflected the same kind of feelings and—and…oh.

Oh.

Oh, they would never escape being peas in a pod, would they?)

“Hey, you mentioned my friends, though.” Dream said, brightening up again, looking around like they might just pop up. Not that he would recognize them. “Maybe we could find them and they could help me get home. What do you think of that?”

Maybe, Nightmare thought, looking away as well. He couldn’t lie, it would be nice to leave this place, and dump the responsibility of an amnesiac onto someone else. Especially the Guardians of the Multiverse, the coveted Star Sanses.

But something twisting in his stomach stopped him from agreeing.

He thought, all too suddenly, about how he came back hours later to his brother still lying in relatively the same spot he fell. Meaning Ink and Blue never came back to look for him after they retreated. You’d think, for monsters that claimed to be his best friends, they’d be out here the minute the battle was over, bringing Dream back home to be checked on.

Why should he trust his brother with those two, when they didn’t even search for him? They probably don’t even know he’s missing. They certainly don’t know he’s injured. He can’t help but wonder what their reactions would’ve been to this memory loss.

Too bad he won’t find out.

“I think they’re busy, actually.” Nightmare decided, making a split decision that he hoped wasn’t wrong. “And going to be busy for the week yet.”

“Oh…”

Dream looked disappointed. Hurt.

The look on his face only solidified Nightmare’s decision. His tentacles curled in satisfaction. “You can come home with me, though. Stay for a bit.”

“Really?” Starting to brighten yet again, Dream seemed to hesitate, searching to make sure he was telling the truth.

“Yeah.”

“Awesome.” Dream’s smile lit up the forest, and Nightmare turned himself away before he found himself getting soft because of it. Raising a hand to open the portal, he heard Dream chuckle behind him. “I gotta say, even though I don’t remember it, I bet you were the best brother ever.”

The words were said so confidently, so…normally…it made Nightmare freeze. The portal wobbled in front of him, but stayed open, and he blinked at it a couple of times before he turned back to his brother.

His mouth was dry, for a reason he couldn’t yet understand.

“What?”

“Well, I mean…it’s like you said. You came all this way, in the middle of the night, to check on me. You were worried. And then, when you found me, you stayed to wake me up, even though you technically already completed your goal. You didn’t just leave. And you checked my injury without me asking you to, and told me my name, and now you’re offering to let me stay at your place.”

Dream’s smile turned smaller, more vulnerable. “It just seems like a very nice thing to do.”

Nightmare’s gaze was frozen, locked onto that genuine, soft smile. The last sentence played on a loop, ringing inside his skull.

A very nice thing to do.

In any other situation, the suggestion would be laughable.

But like this…

(There was that stinging. Again. Why won’t it just go away?)

He thought back to the fight that happened earlier. How he reveled in the pain he caused, how much fun he had taunting his brother. How often he attacked him, without worry or caution. How eager he was to throw him around into trees, back him up into a cliff. He hadn’t even thought about what might happen, too giddy, too smug. All he wanted to do was put him in his place…he hadn’t even cared that he was bleeding…hadn’t even reached out to try and save him when the cliff crumbled…

How long had Dream laid there, in the snow, still in wet clothes?

What did he think as he watched Nightmare watch him fall?

How can that be called nice?

How can what happened during The Incident be called nice? What kind of brother turned his twin into stone, and left him in a dead AU all alone, knowing full well that he would one day return? What kind of brother picked an apple he was supposed to protect in the first place? What kind of brother was he?

Certainly not the kind this Dream was talking about…

“Right.” Nightmare said, the words tasting like ash in his mouth. He understood why this time. He wanted to throw up. “Thanks.”

Dream didn’t notice anything wrong. Still smiling away. As always. Always. “No problem!” Rocking back on his heels, he started to look around as his attention span waned with no portal to go through.

Still, Nightmare did not move to open it.

Instead, he found himself changing tracks. Jumping train from thinking about how bad of a brother he was, to how good of a brother Dream was.

Is.

Was.

Stars, this was so confusing…

“You weren’t that bad of a brother yourself.” Nightmare said, and this time the words were better tasting. At least this way, something true would be said here.

Dream looked back at him, surprised, with a spark of confusion. Then, even if he didn’t know everything Nightmare was talking about, he smiled, taking it as the compliment it was. “Aw, thanks.”

Nodding, Nightmare finally managed to open the portal, letting Dream go through first. He hesitated to follow, looking around the AU again. For some reason, he felt like he would still find his brother, memories and all, waiting for him if he looked hard enough. But he wouldn’t. He knew that.

At least, he had to accept that.

That stinging again…

Showing it down once again, Nightmare turned and went home.

(It’s only after Dream is settled into one of the guest bedrooms—stocked with fresh bedsheets and a fresh pair of clothes for the next day borrowed from Nightmare’s own closet—and he’s back in the safety of his office that he lets his composure finally break. Choking, he slides down his door, hand clasped over his mouth to keep as quiet as possible.

It’s only then that he lets himself cry.

Cry about how he never reached out to catch his brother when he first fell.

Cry about what his brother thought before splitting his skull on a rock.

Cry about the stranger left in his brother’s body.

Cry about everything.)

#my writing #my fanfiction #fanfiction #oneshot #request #undertale #utmv #dreamtale #dream sans #nightmare sans #tw swearing #tw amnesia

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sergeantsporks · 22 hours

Note

WATCHING AND DREAMING SPOILERS

Writing request: Luz tells everybody about what she saw in the Realm In Between. Including the weird Hooty in the Titan’s eye. They spend a while questioning and investigating Hooty’s origins, increasingly confused and terrified.

Gus held an illusion microphone to Luz’s face. “Did she look like King?”

“A lot, yeah.”

“Was he as big as the Isles?”

Luz tilted one hand back and forth. “At the end? She was bones, huge when she disappeared. But when I was talking to him… you know what, how about I just draw him for you?”

King’s tail wagged back and forth. “Yes!”

Luz sketched a pear, adding limbs and claws and… she paused halfway through drawing Papa Titan’s face. One of his eyes… “Hey, Hooty? You, uh…. You wouldn’t know anything about… Look, one of her eyes was missing and had a… well, a you dangling out of it. Do you know why?”

“Of course I do, hoot. That’s where I was born.” Hooty bobbed up and down. “Why do you ask?”

King grabbed Hooty’s face in his hands. “Hooty. Hooty. You’re telling me that you lived in the titan’s eyeball, and you didn’t realize I was a titan?!”

“How would I know that? I didn’t live in your eyeball. Geeeze.”

Luz pinched her nose. This was going to be a frustrating conversation, wasn’t it? “Hooty. If you lived in the Titan’s eyeball… why did you leave? How did you get here?”

“Oh.” For a creature without shoulders, Hooty was incredibly good at shrugging. “Evelyn felt bad about taking the eye for her portal door, and offered me a place to stay at her house. Or in her house? I picked in her house.”

Willow’s jaw dropped, and she glanced at Hunter. “Wait, Evelyn? Like, from the brothers Wittebane story in Gravesfield Evelyn? You knew her?”

“Told Gus all about it in our interview!”

Everyone twisted around to look at Gus.

“What?” he demanded, “I stopped listening five minutes in. Have you heard him ramble? He told me every single thing he’s had for breakfast since he spawned! Do you know how many times I heard the phrase ‘and then I ate a bug?!’ Too many times, Luz. Too. Many. Times.”

“Okay,” Luz said slowly, “Hooty, explain. Start at the beginning.”

“Don’t say that,” Gus told her in a strangled whisper, “Luz, what have you done?”

“Well, it all started the day I hatched inside of the titan’s eyeball,” Hooty began, apparently oblivious to Gus’ distress, “I don’t remember it! Not a single thing! But I remember crawling around in the titan’s eye.”

King looked like he might be sick. “Doing… what?”

“Eating it, of course! But then maggots started spawning, so I ate those, and that’s when I realized how tasty bugs were!”

“But… you’re a bug demon, aren’t you?” Hunter asked tentatively, “Isn’t it… weird… to eat bugs?”

Hooty stared at Hunter for a long, long moment, his eyes narrowing as he considered what Hunter said. Hunter shifted nervously, but then Hooty’s eyes popped back open. “Nope!”

“The titan,” Luz pressed, “You were living in his eyeball, eating maggots, and then…”

“There was a great squelching noise, and the eyeball was ripped away! A great flood of light shone through, and I was left hanging out of the socket.”

“And then?” Luz asked again.

“Then I found out just how many bugs there were in the world. Bugs everywhere! Buzzing all around! Grown-up maggot flies, beetles, worms—”

Luz had gotten used to Hooty—or so she thought. Every so often, he’d casually reveal some extra horrifying feature of his, and she’d be left in the lurch again. As far as the way he talked, she was usually confident she could handle it. But right now, she wanted to shake him until all the answers fell out.

“Evelyn,” she interrupted, “She took out the eyeball?”

“Yep! She said she was very sorry, but she needed it for her door, and then asked if maybe I’d like to come along, and I said will there be bugs, and she said more than you can eat, which I said wasn’t likely since I’m miles of empty tube, and she laughed, and I followed her home. And she dug a burrow for me, and I jumped in, but then I found the wood of the house. And there were termites! So I ate them, and burrowed into the house. Boy was she surprised when I stuck my head out the door.”

“And—the portal?”

“You mean Eda’s portal?”

“Yes—did Evelyn build it?”

“I don’t know. I was busy. No bugs were getting in on my watch. I ate a beetle, then a fire bee, then a worm, and then a fly, and then another fly, and another fly, and then I ate Evelyn’s kid, because I thought she was a large fairy, but Evelyn made me spit her back up. And then I ate another beetle, and an ACTUAL fairy, and—”

Gus pressed pillows against his ears. “I warned you! Make him stop!

“—and then I ate a really big beetle that was all shiny gold and white when it came to bother Evelyn—”

Hunter coughed. “Is he talking about Belos?”

“—but I spit it back up because it was the wrong kind of slimy inside, and it scurried off, and I never saw it again! And then I ate a whole nest of fire bees, and a—”

Luz held her hands up in a T. “I’m sorry, timeout, Hooty, go back, you ate Evelyn’s kid? And also maybe Belos?!”

“I was eating bugs and finding out what wasn’t bugs.” Hooty arched his neck, as if trying to appear dignified. “Lulu says I have an inquisitive mind.”

“You’ve got an inquisitive stomach, at least,” Gus muttered.

“So… about Evelyn…”

“Not a bug.”

“Right, but the portal, Belos—”

“Also not bugs.”

Luz almost growled. “Okay, but the house—”

“Not a bug.” Hooty tilted his head to the side. “Waaaait… if I’m a bug… and I’m the house… have I failed? Is the enemy within? Can I eat the house? Will it end, or will I become an endless ouroboros, the bird tube eating its own house?”

Luz blinked. “Uh…”

“Well! Much to think about! Bye, Luz!”

Hooty snaked out of the room, returning to his place in the door. Luz groaned, putting her head in her hands. “Why do I feel like I know less than when we started?”

Gus patted her shoulder, nodding solemnly. “The Hooty effect, Luz. Welcome to the club.”

#toh #the owl house #toh hooty #luz noceda #toh fanfiction #my writing #asks #writing requests

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justaz · 1 day

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post magic reveal, post magic ban lifted, arthur gets to see merlin in all his glory and somehow falls deeper in love with him than he ever thought possible. merlin who is free and accepted and loved and ecstatic by it all, but there's that thought lingering in the back of his mind that only half of their destiny has been fulfilled. magic has returned to camelot but albion is still fractured in many different kingdoms, many of which are still holding onto the hate that uther spread which is seeping into the very fabric of the earth itself. druids and magic users and even magic creatures are still persecuted all across the realm and yeah camelot opened her arms to them but not everyone trusts it (justifiably).

arthur who is choking on the sheer amount of love he has for merlin and promising himself that he'll tell merlin, he'll confess, even if he feelings aren't reciprocated. merlin will know. merlin who has been chewing on an idea for some time now and is planning on bringing it up to arthur. its night as merlin is dressing arthur for bed and they're both quiet and tense. they break at the same time and end up speaking over one another. arthur allows merlin to go first since his nerves are eating away at him. then merlin speaks of leaving.

arthur feels his nerves rot and decay and fall into a bottomless pit. merlin is rambling about how every magical being in albion is still being targeting by various kingdoms and as the prophesied emrys, magic incarnate, druid king, should he not be doing more to help? he doesn't want to leave arthur's side, but he does want to help his people. he's seen only a fraction of the atrocities committed against them and he wishes to protect them, give them somewhere completely safe, a kingdom of magic so to speak. he promises that he'll only be gone for as long as it takes to establish a kingdom (a year? two? three?) but he promises to write and visit often...as long as arthur gives him permission and allows him to leave his service for the time being.

arthur of course agrees, half unhappy about it but completely understanding. surely, out of everyone, he is the one who can understand the weight of responsibility weighing on merlin's shoulders. he mentions that merlin will need someone with experience wearing the crown to guide him. plus, balance. merlin was always there for arthur, guiding him on how to be a better man, a great king, someone worthy of the praise he constantly spewed. it's only right that arthur gets to return that by helping merlin establish a safe haven and home for his people. and politically, camelot being the first kingdom to recognize merlin's and establish some trade agreement or treaty with them will strengthen merlin's kingdom's status and send a message that camelot stands with magic.

merlin smiles wide and asks what arthur was going to say. the king hesitates before biting his tongue and requesting that merlin bring up the honey cakes that had been prepared earlier that night. two of them. since merlin was no longer in his service, he didn't have to stand by and watch arthur eat - not that he ever did, the idiot loved to steal his food. shamelessly!! he never even tried to hide it. they both sat at the table in his chambers until late in the night, nibbling away at the sweets, chasing it down with wine, and chatting away.

arthur wasn't able to confess, but it did not change his feelings. if anything, merlin's heart and the decision he made only added fuel to the raging inferno of love and devotion within arthur. he knows that merlin will keep in contact and will return to his side one day. he gets through the tough days/nights by rereading merlin's letters and imagining seeing him again in royal garb and donning a crown.

#when they finally wed it completely solidifies that camelot is a safe space for magical beings #camelot and whatever name merlin settled on for his kingdom sort of merge together with the marriage as well #which is only the beginning to the prophesied unified albion that they were meant to build together #i just think that merlin shouldve built something for his people #like theyre being prosecuted at every turn #theres no safe place for any of them to reside #theyre always looking over their shoulder #merlin aka emrys aka magic itself should've looked out for his people #his devotion to arthur got in the way of that tho which ig is romantic but also like bro. cmon now.#plus king merlin>>>>#bbc merlin #merlin emrys #arthur pendragon #merthur #angst sort of #its a happy ending if you read my tags LMAO #fic ideas #fanfic #fanfiction #headcanon #head canon #hc

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jimblejamblewritings · 10 hours

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love letters and second sons | part 1.

Summary: The princess is finally ready to debut in society. But before she does, she decides to disguise herself and see the true faces of the ton.

Author's Note: Hello! Yes, I'm here with a wip before finishing my other stuff. The Bridgerton girlies have got me. Congratulations to you all. So before you read this, please read: I Hate Accidents by @i-hate-accidents AND Over The Garden Wall by @homeofthepeculiar AND The Ultimate Deception by @maximoff-pan. These stories are some of my favorites and really inspired this fic.

Warnings for the Series: light sexism in line with the times, light classism in line with the times, mental health stigma, shitty doctor care, smut, suicide attempt (will get it's own warning when the time comes),

Pairing: Benedict Bridgerton x princess!reader

Word Count: 5.4k

Author's Note: To those who have read my other works, you'll notice that the author Mercutio's stories are something special

My Dearest Ton and Wonderful United Kingdom,

I am pleased to welcome you all to the start of another social season. Of course, people love and look for love all year round but each year the season just seems to invite love to blossom. I hope all of you find the match to your souls. Marriage is a business but can it not have love as well? A business built with love surely must be a business that tries to last. I ask our respectful citizens and subjects of the United Kingdom to make love a part of their search.

I would also like to ask about businesses that do not involve marriage or love. How are you? In the business of health, is everyone safe from all sickness? In the business of finance, does everyone have enough to eat and clothe themselves without falling into poverty? Are businesses afloat even if only by a small margin? How are you? Truly, I want to know. If you would like to write to me, please do so. The royal mailboxes should still be in perfect condition.

Of course, if you have something urgent then I am sorry but you must come to the palace and request an audience. My valets hold all letters for a day or a few out of safety for everyone. But rest assured, I read every letter once received.

I would also like to say that I can feel the winds of the ton calling me to grace their presence and to stop being rude by ignoring them. Naturally, the wind is very rude to say this and then cut through my dress and chill my bones even when it is snowing. But I digress, the wind is right. The time for introduction must be soon. And a lovely time that will be. I cannot wait to meet you all.

Yours truly,

A Not So Young Anymore Youngest Princess Y/N Hanover (Truly, I need a proper surname and not just the name of my father’s house)

My Dearest Ton and Wonderful United Kingdom,

Would you like to know what I have learned yesterday? I know the Americas are still a touchy subject for some but I hope you don’t mind me talking about it, just to share my studies. Philadelphia is the center of American debate. So many great men (and women that have probably gone unnamed but aided their counterparts in their quest of education) have lived and are currently still living there.

Going to America simply for a debate sounds terribly dreadful. But what if we had one here that wasn’t relegated to just the universities. An entire city becoming a center of debate seems incredibly foolish, not to mention disruptive to its current residents, but buildings of debate do not seem like a bad idea.

Even if some feel like they aren’t smart enough, they should participate. Ideas are nurtured by sharing them. May some debates lead to great compromise and understanding and maybe even propositions for laws.

I, for one, debate with my father every day on which science is the most important to teach to young children and which science can wait until university should they like to pursue that path. He believes all of it. I believe that medicinal science is too much for a young mind and they only need to be taught how to mind their health until they can understand better. What do you think? I am delighted to hear your opinions. Maybe mine will be swayed.

Yours Truly,

Youngest Princess Y/N Buckingham (I am trying out new surnames until one I like sticks)

My Dearest Ton and Wonderful United Kingdom,

I apologize if my stance may be radical but nothing in society ever got done if the start wasn’t a little radical. I believe that young women should be properly taught about relations… let me just say it, sex. Not when they are children, no, but when they are about to debut. Consider it. You all know that as a royal, despite being a woman, I have been taught all things. Everyone is aware that I know what sex is. But if I and my sisters were taught sex so that we may be aware of malicious advances and be able to protect our virtue first rather than waiting for our virtues to be saved by someone and risk them being too late, then others should as well. Therefore, I implore all mothers and governesses to teach their young ladies about to debut what sex is. And to fathers who may be without wives, please find any woman to teach your daughters.

I shall return with more radical ideas for a better and more prosperous United Kingdom.

Yours truly,

Youngest Princes Y/N Kew

The printed letters delivered to London, had everyone enthralled in the early morning. Some people that lived close enough to the central town square didn’t bother with the prints and went straight to the wooden pin board there to look at the princess’ handwriting on the original letters. Whenever the Young Princess or the author Mercutio Quick wrote, people stopped and paid attention.

Princess Y/N was the people’s princess. The one who listened to their complaints and wasn’t cheap on her charitable acts. She was so much like her father, Farmer George. Even with his illness he still ran a good country… when he was in charge. So much better than her eldest brother, George IV. Then again, any royal sibling was better than their eldest brother, even if only by a very small percentage. Everyday the public hoped another child would challenge George the Younger. They would rally their support behind them.

They were hoping that any day George IV’s daughter, Charlotte, would have an heir. If she was pregnant then it would be so easy for the public to support her and convince either George IV to step down or convince Parliament to present a motion to King George. They would have a ruler and an heir. Charlotte the Younger would be the easiest transition for George IV to understand.

But neither her father nor husband seemed to care about the lack of heir. But the thought of succession and coups and duels was forgotten for a moment to read the Young Princess’ letters welcoming them to the new social season with new balls, debutantes, and drama.

In the Bridgerton house, the family ran around like chickens with their heads cut off. They were trying to get ready to present Daphne to the Queen while also trying to read the Young Princess’ letters. Benedict laughed as he slapped his copy of the letters.

“Mother would have a fit if she had to speak with Daphne about sex.”

“I’m surprised she would even suggest such a thing,” Colin said as he returned to reading the first letter, thinking he might actually write to the Young Princess about his familial concerns and wanting to travel desperately but being unsure about leaving them.

Eloise finally smiled as she came downstairs with the rest of her siblings. “I for one think it’s rather refreshing. She is right. Our mamas should be teaching us more than just how to meet the Queen… Daphne! You must make haste! Do you think she heard me?”

Colin rolled his eyes. “She most certainly did. But on the matter of the princess, what is wrong with a woman’s husband teaching her about sex?”

“Everything is wrong with that.”

“Hmm.”

He looked down to reread the paper, wondering if he could understand what the princess actually meant. Even though the letters were left at home, talk of the princess never ceased. How could it? The monarchy’s youngest princess might actually be joining them. Everyone wanted to know what she would look like, not in the face of course. Even her fourth brother didn’t take off his mask until after five months of being introduced to society and he was the shortest time it took to see the royal children’s face.

“Do you think she will be tall like her eldest sister or short? Plump?” Eloise asked as their carriages started their way towards the palace. “I’d imagine I’d be very lovely and plump if I could be stuck in a palace all day with the most wonderful food imaginable. Not that anyone should ever value a woman based on her body but Penelope has stated that her sisters are terribly upset because all the dress makers have started saying that plump is going to be in fashion once again in only a few years time and by the time they become plump it’ll be out of fashion again.”

Daphne looked out the window. “I wonder if she’ll look like the Queen or the King. Oh, what makeup do you think she’ll wear? What mask did she have created for herself? When do you think we’ll actually see her face?”

Violet touched the knees of all her girls. “Whatever she is like, do not be rude and gawk. The poor thing will already have the vultures’ eyes on her all night. If she even comes out tonight. Perhaps it will be at a ball this week. That would be quite a fantastic introduction. I do hope she at least meets us this season.”

Francesca smiled. “I imagine her dance card would be quite full.”

“She’d have bracelets of dance cards going up to her arm,” Daphne agreed.

“But she isn’t coming into society yet. She’s just introducing herself to us,” Eloise said.

“She’s still a princess royal. A very well-known one at that. There’s no way the men would pass on an opportunity to dance with her. They’d want to start making their intentions known now, get ahead of everyone else.”

The boys’ carriage was speaking of a different matter entirely. The princess and Mercutio had written to the ton at the same time. With the presentation to the Queen taking up so much of the day, most people wouldn’t be able to read his work until later that evening. Colin and Benedict simply couldn’t wait. Colin sat with his brother as he drove the carriage and read the story out loud:

“Arsehole,” Cecilia muttered.

Ignoring the sharp stinging of her backside, she hopped off the bed to find something to put on. All she needed to accomplish was getting back to her room, clothed. She knew there must have been some spare clothes in their dressers. It was just a matter of sorting through which garments were hers and which belonged to the others. She had been sorely mistaken to ignore the three members of nobility behind her, thinking they hadn’t heard her.

Lovell scrunched up his face, resembling a rat. “Is receiving another punishment something you really care for? Because this attitude you’ve acquired is going to earn you one.”

“Piss off.”

“Is that any way to talk to your dominants?” Madison asked, adjusting herself in Tommy’s arms.

Cecilia scoffed as she walked towards the door, placing one hand on the doorknob. “Lavender.”

The other three faces fell at the use of that forbidden word. Cecilia’s hand reached up ever so gently and wiped away tears. She wondered if the tears were for her former lovers or for finally realizing her mind was deluded to think she would be with anyone above her station such as Lovell.

“I don’t want this anymore.”

“Cecilia.”

“You never believe that I don’t enjoy breaking our established rules. You only listen to Madison.”

“Cecilia.”

“It is clear you both like her more than you desire me. I am down.”

“Cecilia.”

“You shall see me around this manor, doing my job as I always have. But that is the extent of our relationship.”

“Please, just give u—”

“Good day, Lord Parham. Lord Newall, Lady Wilcher.”

“Riveting,” Colin said as he finished reading. “Mr. Mercutio has done it again.”

Benedict nodded. “Indeed he has. I was a bit worried when he announced that he wanted to dabble in the themes of erotic pleasures in his stories but this was just as enjoyable as all the others.”

“Agree… Oh, it says here that they have earned a publishing deal. The penny stories will still come out once a week, chapter by chapter but readers can also purchase a book if they would like to keep the story properly or are in a rush to read it. I for one will be buying the books.”

“I second that.”

“I wonder what his next story will be about. Actually, no, I wonder what our dear sisters and mothers can be talking about.”

“The princess, no doubt.”

”Do you think any of our brothers will approach?” Eloise asked in the women’s carriage, more to herself than anything.

That made Hyacinth’s face light up. “If one of them marries the princess does that mean we get to be princesses too?”

“As if any of our brothers even could or want to.” Francesca pulled her face away from the window.

“If anyone is going to bring them to the marriage mart,” Daphne started as she fanned herself. “It would be the princess. Anthony would be a good match for her.”

Violet laughed, thinking of the idea. “A viscount and a princess are a perfect match.”

All talk of the princess stopped as they approached. The worst thing that could happen could be a footman overhearing them and mistaking their speech for malicious gossip rather than light-natured and report it to the princess or the queen or even worse, King George himself. They would forever be ostracized from society.

From upstairs, you watched from a window where you knew no one could see you even if they looked up. How you desperately wanted to be down there. All the men were dressed up and looking like penguins. Handsome they were but still penguin-like in silhouette. And the women’s dresses. Some, while upper class, were of a lower social standing and wore older dresses that looked just as gorgeous as the empire and rather shapeless dresses of today.

But today was not your day. You actually weren’t sure when your day would be. Your mother and father let their children choose when they would be introduced to society. Of course you all had to wait for a certain age and it had to be a date at the start of the social season but you could pick the day. And unlike your last sibling, you wanted it to be at a ball instead of the selection of the Diamonds. You didn’t even care which ball it would be. Perhaps it was selfish but you did want a day all to yourself or at least a day with you as the main focus. But that wasn’t this year. Or any year perhaps.

You were excited to finally leave the walls of the palace if you were allowed, having proven yourself capable of not causing an incident. Unfortunately, you couldn’t say you had proven yourself without illness. You weren’t that lucky. You and all your siblings were locked inside until the royal physicians could observe and confirm that you weren’t sick with whatever madness your father had. They didn’t have to observe you. That was also why you picked a ball instead of today. You wanted to prove you didn’t need a chaperone literally holding your elbow. You wanted freedom like your siblings. Freedom to explore that you weren’t sure would get because of your illness.

After a nearly fatal drowning in the lake — an event your siblings still get chewed out for at least once a month — you started showing symptoms like George did. For you it wasn’t about if you would be as sick like your father. It was about how bad and how quickly the illness would get.

You didn’t get to see George as often as the others. The doctors thought you shouldn’t be around him for prolonged periods of time unless it was after an episode. They thought that too much exposure would make you more like him instead of better. They wanted to send him to Kew but you promised that you wouldn’t go to his quarters as long as he got to stay at Buckingham.

Charlotte, silly as it may have been, had hope. They caught your sickness early. Nine was a very young age to almost go mad. Maybe you could be saved from a cruel fate unlike George. They were too late for him but not for you. Of course this only brought jealousy from your siblings who didn’t feel like they got as much affection anymore. Every time you even twitched, it became about you. They could never hate you. It wasn’t like you asked to be sick. But it was hard to be around you. Everyday visits became once a week. Still, you cherished those visits. Like the one yesterday. They expressed their sympathies and hopefulness that you would get to introduce yourself and maybe it could even be this year or maybe this month.

You could have scoffed. After what you did just two days ago, you were unsure. The daylight came into your room before you were prepared for it and you had been convinced that Buckingham was on fire. You couldn’t be calmed down until you jumped into the water fully clothed. Immediately, you pulled yourself out of the trance but no one really cared. The royal physician had been called anyway and you had ruined all chances of attending the presentation to the Queen.

“Your Highness!” a voice disturbed your thoughts and your eyes from looking at your siblings’ carriages leave in the morning. Your lady-in-waiting approached you with a paper, an entire pamphlet. “It’s already spread through the ton like a fire. We haven’t read it yet. We figured new literature would be a treat for you.”

“Thank you, Pandora. Shall we read it in the kitchens this morning when we return home?”

“Not your room?”

“I’m so terribly sick of my room and the washroom and the balcony and the bedroom.”

“You are getting restless.”

“It’s only a matter of time. Maybe even tomorrow it’ll happen. And soon it will only be a couple of years at most before the mask is gone. By the way,” you said as the two started to leave. “Did you hear about the Feather girl that fainted? Is she alright?”

“Oh yes, she’s fine.”

“Good. Have someone send flowers to her tomorrow with an inquiry about her wellbeing after taking such a tumble. Oh and no flowers to the Diamond. I want to meet her myself one day. Now, let’s read about this… Lady Whistledown. She already sounds like an interesting woman.”

Interesting it was indeed. The maids and kitchen staff hung onto your every word as you read the pamphlet. You weren’t exactly sure how you felt about the pamphlet yet but Pandora was right about one thing. It was literature. Lady Whistledown seemed bold enough to list subjects by name. By their entire name as if she wasn’t afraid of any repercussions. You supposed she wouldn’t be since Whistledown was obviously not her real name.

It wasn’t the subject of what she published that bothered you. A lot of it was standard gossip that goes around during the social season but it was her personal opinion. She almost seemed to want the ladies she wrote about to have miserable ends like inquiring about Daphne Bridergton’s flame burning out quickly. The lady must know that what she published could ruin a reputation. Gossip is no longer gossip when publicly written down. It has the potential to become fact.

You slapped the pamphlet against your hand. “Well, I suppose Mercutio Quick from York will no longer be the entertainment of the ton. Sad, and right as I earned a publishing deal too. Perhaps, I should take up a different art. Like making dresses for all my days or learning to play the harp and cello properly so it sounds better than a dying whale according to my brothers.”

The cook shook his head. “Your stories are very entertaining. Even Lady Whistledown couldn’t stop that.”

“Thank you for saying that. I am rather jealous that she is penning under a woman.”

“But you have chosen a name based on your favorite characters, have you not?”

“I have but maybe I should’ve chosen better. This Lady Whistledown might be making more change for women then I hope to accomplish.”

At this, the staff scoffed. Pandora cleaned up your dishes from the kitchen island in front of you.

“Your Highness, with the utmost respect, you are the one who is going to do more for women than this Whistledown. Everybody already wants someone other than your kind brother on the throne. They’re all praying your niece gives them any child so they may protest for her with the added benefit of an heir. They love her and what you write about in your letters make her seem even better. Hell, they love you and they don’t even know you. They listen to you. And with your words, Princess Charlotte the Younger will be on the throne and you will prove women are more than capable of whatever and we might have real change. Is she still on board?”

“Yes. She hates her father as much as anyone else does. George is nice once you get to know him… sort of. But Lettie approves as long as I agree to be in her court. I said yes of course.”

“Then it is settled. Thank God we might actually get change in our wretched lives. Now you must wash up and oversee the Bridgerton gowns before they are sent off. Shall we pick certain ones from your wardrobe?”

“Give the Diamond the one with lace and her family’s colors. Pick whatever you want for the rest of them. Oh and patterns must be on the Feather mother’s dress. I noticed she wears the most ill-favored ornamented dresses but she seems to like them. And put in an order with the modiste, I should like to do this often if this first gesture goes well and the gift wardrobe will need more clothes than it has at present. Clothes for the lower classes as well, nothing that could get them attacked and the clothes stolen off their bodies.”

“Yes, Your Highness.”

“And, by the way, I already washed up.”

“Yes, but now you’ve been sitting amongst smoke and smells.”

You gave up your fight and nodded as you jumped down from your stool and began the walk to your room. No one was around today. They wouldn’t be for most of the social season as they had other duties, including watching your siblings. Despite your madness, you weren’t the biggest concern at all. It was your rakish brothers in brothels, your sisters constantly leaving their husbands or suitors, and all of them sneaking away. You paused for a moment before walking quicker until you reached your room.

Why couldn’t you sneak out? Now would be the perfect opportunity. And no one was looking for you. It would be so easy to scale the vines up the garden wall and just have fun for a moment. You washed up quickly and put on a very simple dress — one more like the style of today rather than your father’s time. Grabbing a cloak and your mask, you put them down on the bed before sitting down at your writing desk to pen a letter. The slam of the door nearly made you jump out of your skin. You calmed as you realized it was just Pandora.

“Oh, good. It is just you.”

“I have the Bridgerton and Featherington dresses but what do you mean it is just me, Y/N?”

You stood up, abandoning the letter now that someone was around. “I am going out to see the ton.”

“What?”

“It is still dark. I have a map, my cloak, and the mask. And I have a very clear destination with vehicles that will get me back in the most discreet of ways should I need to use them.”

“Your Highness.”

“Pandora. I am nearing my introduction to society. You will all have to let me go at some point. I know everyone cares for my wellbeing but my happiness is gone. I am seen as nothing but my illness. Before I have an episode in public like the king, let me meet the ton. Let me not be Farmer Y/N for a brief moment of my life before I am a farmer forever, before I stay in that garden just like Father.”

Pandora’s mouth shut. She simply locked the door and unlocked the window. “You must return before your midmorning promenade and snack. Since you ate downstairs, I can convince them to overlook your absence of a breakfast request. And don’t take your mask. It’s better if they don’t know who you are at all.”

She gasped as you hugged her.

“Thank you, Pandora! Thank you! You are truly the bestest friend a woman could have.”

“Just go so you can come back quickly and I can have my sanity back.”

You closed the window, shocking Pandora as you pulled a picture frame off the wall to reveal a staircase that led outside. The door was hidden behind the trellis covered in vines and flowers. You pulled the hood over the cloak over you. The last thing you did was check for your bracelet and if your papers were inside. Until you were introduced to society, all the royal children had bracelets that couldn’t come off unless cut off. There were just in case measures with the eldest two but became necessary after so many nights sneaking out. The bracelet wasn’t going anywhere but you didn’t want to lose your birth certificate. It was your first safety measure. Even if you were kidnapped or harmed, you’d be returned to the palace for a pretty penny. You did pull your sleeves down so your bracelet wouldn’t be noticed.

You couldn’t contain your smile at the excitement of being out. London was so different without all the noise. The brothels and pubs were starting to close down for their few hours of rest and relaxation. You stuck to streets where you could see all the action but wouldn’t be easily spotted. No one bothered you until you arrived at your destination.

The footman stood to attention. “May I help you?”

“Yes, hello. I bring a package from Buckingham House for the Bridgertons, courtesy of Princess Y/N.” You handed him a letter with your official stamp at the end of it.

The footman’s eyes went wide as he handed you back the letter and ran inside. The Bridgertons looked up at the frantic knocking, pulling slips over Hyacinth and Daphne before telling the footman he could enter. The Bridgerton boys came upstairs after hearing the heavy pounding of their employee’s footsteps running up the multiple stairs.

“Is there a problem, Marshall?”

He panted before taking in a deep breath. “The Young Princess’ lady-in-waiting is here, bearing gifts.”

“WHAT?!”

The Bridgertons collectively yelled before the scramble happened. You tilted your head when you saw the windows open and a maid shake out some bedsheets. She squeaked when she looked down to see you. You laughed as she ran back inside. It couldn’t have been more than five minutes before you were escorted into the house by a very out of breath footman. The Bridgertons stood on the steps at the end of their entrance hall in chronological order with their mother starting the line at the very bottom step. Nervous smiles graced their faces when you finally reached them. You curtsied to which they curtsied or bowed back.

You gave them a second to assess you before speaking. Even though it wasn’t true in the slightest, everyone thought the ladies-in-waiting and manservants were reflections of the royals themselves. Not in character or value but in appearance. They figured they could form some sort of picture as to what the young masked royals looked like. If you were ugly then surely the princess was too. You hoped they at least found you to be average looking in appearance.

Anthony Bridgerton — the new head of house from what you remembered of your studies — stepped from behind his mother to greet you formally. He bowed once again, deeper, before offering up his hand. You settled yours in it to receive a chaste kiss.

“To what do we owe this sudden pleasure, Mrs…”

“Keaton,” you lied, just using Pandora’s last name.

“Mrs. Keaton?” He didn’t recognize the name as one belonging to an upper class member of the ton. He wasn’t sure he recognized the name at all.

“Apologies, I should explain. The princess doesn’t distinguish in her court, we are all there to work. All women are ladies-in-waitings, all men are valets. Regardless of station, regardless of marriage.”

“So, I am to take it that my earlier statement was incorrect.”

You nodded. “Simply Miss Keaton.”

“Well that sounds like very forward thinking actually. All the same, it is our pleasure to meet anyone in her highness’ court.”

Violet smiled as she watched the interaction. If her son was close to anyone in the princess’ court, especially someone that seemed so close to the princess as to be sent here, then he would be able to meet the princess with good graces. He’d be ahead of any man by leagues.

“Princess Y/N has sent me on her behalf. She extends warm greetings to the Bridgertons and the Featheringtons whom I will meet after our encounter. The princess congratulates Miss Daphne Bridgerton for earning Diamond of the Season as well as congratulations to the Dowager Viscountess for raising such a fine woman and to Viscount Bridgerton for chaperoning and keeping the family together therefore allowing his sister to shine.”

He cleared his throat and started to smile. “Please give the princess all of our thanks for the most kind of compliments.”

“And she would like to assure Miss Bridgerton that I have not been sent on behalf of any princes. Her brothers will not be bothering you today.”

They all chuckled when you laughed.

You set the first box down on the table next to you and opened it. “The princess has brought new dresses for the ball. The Diamond and the rest of her family should have the opportunity to shine with the utmost and wholehearted respect and support of the Crown. Please, enjoy them.”

The family ran to the table, picking out dresses and suits and matching them to the person’s name on the paper pinned to each garment. They kept singing praises and admiring the outfits. Violet turned back to you.

“When are you planning on visiting the Featheringtons?”

“In an hour or so, I must be back before the princess’ morning promenade. She has a very busy day afterwards.”

“Will the princess be introducing herself this season?”

“Hyacinth!” Anthony and Violet yelled at the same time.

You laughed. “It is no trouble. I’m at liberty to answer as the princess’ head valet.”

“Valet? I thought you said they were all men. They are usually all men.”

“If the princess should become heir to the throne then she will receive a male valet alongside me. For now, it is just me. The Crown believes someone of the same gender should always be with her should she need to confide in someone about very personal matters.” You took a breath before testing the waters. “Such as affections of the heart.”

It had dawned on you in that moment that you could spy on the ton. When the time came, you would still have to dance with all the bachelors of the United Kingdom but you at least you would have a better picture of them. You’d have to apologize to Pandora for the countless strokes she was about to earn from you but you couldn’t make this your only time sneaking out.

Violet smiled, knowing she was right. “Well, would you like to stay for breakfast?”

“Oh, I wouldn’t want to impose.”

“It would be no trouble at all. We have more than enough room. Eloise, dear, if Penelope is to come over please request that she do so now.”

(part 2)

PERMANENT TAGLIST:

@venomsvl @peaches-n-sunscreen @summerellaz @supernaturallover2002 @sambucky8 @9daykrisr @thebitchinleo @23victoria @scarlets-widow @pagetpagetpagetpaget @lovexnatasha @awesomebooklover17 @1234-angelika @imatrisk @blackreaderatrisk @princess-jules47 @alexloveskili @a-marie-a @siriuslysirius1107 @i-have-no-life-charlie @daykrisr999

#benedict bridgerton #benedict bridgerton x reader #bridgerton #benedict x reader #benedict bridgerton x princess!reader #benedict fluff #bridgerton fluff #fic

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hareofhrair · 2 days

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An incomplete list of Magnus Archives fic I want to write but probably never will

Romance between a Desolation avatar oc who keeps burning her life to the ground and restarting and a Stranger avatar oc who’s features and mannerisms are constantly subtly changing so they look and act like a completely different person every few days. Desolation starts a new relationship in every city and then watches it go up in flames before she leaves, but she starts to notice weird similarities between her various ill fated paramours and realizes she’s actually just been dating and breaking up with the same person over and over.

Horror short about a Hunt avatar whose thing is being the Perfect Prey, like the Hunt’s version of the anglerfish. Predatory people zero in on her and are compelled to pursue her until they eventually find themselves literally hunting her down with violent intentions, thrilled and horrified by what they’re doing but unable to stop, until she suddenly turns the tables on them and they realize they were the ones being hunted the whole time.

Some kind of “everyone’s avatars” au which starts out as a heartwarming found family thing where they all become monsters together but redeem each other- John’s the Eye of course, Martin’s Lonely, Tim becomes Desolation after he blows up the Unknowing, they kill the Not-Sasha and it regurgitates Real Sasha who has been transformed into a Stranger by the process, Melanie’s Slaughter, Basira’s the Hunt, Daisy become Buried post coffin (it’s complicated), they keep and somehow “fix” Ghost Gerry who becomes an avatar of the End, they recruit Michael/Helen from the Spiral, Annabel Web starts hanging around and they can’t make her leave so she’s eventually just made part of the family through attrition, they recruit Manuela of the Dark because she’s got nothing left after the ritual failed, and Michael Crewe of the Vast just because I like him and I said so, Adelard Decker comes back Corrupted because I’m a heartless bastard, and when the Flesh attacks the institute Melanie cuts off a chunk of Jared which falls behind a filing cabinet and emerges a few weeks later as a semi sentient blob they name Meatball and dress in little outfits. Oh and everyone thinks Georgie is just the token normie but surprise turns out losing her fear was just the beginning of her evolving beyond humanity and whoops now she’s Extinction. With their powers combined Jonah Magnus gets kicked to the curb well before he can pull any shenanigans and yay the world is saved snd we’re basically superheroes now! Except then it turns out their love for each other has actually doomed the world by perfectly balancing the fears in each other, essentially becoming the archive John was meant to be times, uh, 14. Apocalypse time! Yaaay!

Pwp fic about ace voyeur John watching Martin fuck someone else. Tim maybe? That’d be funny.

#tma podcast #tma shitpost #my writing

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docholligay · 2 days

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Choose Your own Adventure April 2024

Thank you to everyone who has continued to support this silly project! Your comments mean so much to me and keep me going as i power through some real struggles with writing, thank you!

Fareeha Amari often asked for counsel, she would tell you. There were people with much greater knowledge and skill, and it would be arrogant of her to assume that only she understood every situation as it arose. Fareeha believed that iron sharpened iron, and if one wanted to be sharp, one had to accept that a bit of you was going to get shaved off, now and again. She was perfectly content to accept a bit of humbling, in order to be made keener.

What had not occurred to her, in taking Doc’s counsel, was that it required her to take Haruka’s, whatever that had been. Even less had it occurred to her that Haruka would not have taken into account the rain and damp, and that they were on a road where someone was sure to come by, whereas Lena was wandering somewhere on the moors like a misplaced Romantic. The van had assured shelter. If Lena had managed to get to the house, there was no guarantee it was occupied. Morning would come soon enough.

All of these things Fareeha’s mind had assured her Haruka would notice also.

“I think we should go to the house,” Haruka stated with the broad confidence of the ignorant, “It’ll be smarter to be where there’s maybe, a phone, and something to eat.”

“I do have MREs in the van, of course.”

Fareeha stopped herself, took a breath. She, Fareeha, had decided upon this question. In doing that, it was only Fareeha who had decided the answer was acceptable, no matter which it was. Fareeha had decided to allow Haruka to help, and Fareeha had handed her the choices. There was no one to blame but herself, for the error.

“Yes,” she continued, “I do see the...thought, behind going to the house.”

Haruka’s thought was the same as Lena’s, that she was tired of sitting still, and wanted to be making some sort of progress. That while sitting was wise, it was not entertaining. The difference being that, whatever Lena’s flaws were, and Fareeha was happy to enumerate them, she was a skilled field officer in excellent physical condition, with above average reflexes and occasionally aggravatingly good instincts. If she found herself in a dangerous situation, the past had shown she could generally find her way back out of it.

Fareeha did not have the same confidence about a line of inexperienced laymen following her like a herd of baby ducks through the wet and dark.

But there was no going back on the decision she had made, not without making things much worse and all but guaranteeing that the Kaiohs would in no way fund their work. This was not, as Fareeha saw it, an acceptable cost. The security of the world mattered more than her annoyance and personal pride.

So she nodded to Haruka and Mina. “We should pack as lightly as we can, but we should pack. The owners could take us to a hotel or inn.”

Mina looked around into the damp and dark. “Yeah, this place is just teeming with Holiday Inns.”

Fareeha focused in on her, as an eagle might a rabbit, but Mina only returned her look with a smile. She shook her head, nodded, and turned back to the van, opening the door and sticking her head inside toward Doc and Angela, who were sitting beside each other, chatting awkwardly.

“Haruka has said we should go to the house. After Lena.”

Angela gave a small nod and a smile, picking up her puffy coat with one hand. Fareeha put a large black military backpack over one shoulder, and a slightly tattered backpack with a garish flag in the round over the other. She looked to Doc.

“It would be better to stay here.”

“Well,” Doc hurriedly shoved things into her own backpack, “I mean…ya didn’t ask me. Is all.”

Fareeha huffed, and then looked to Angela, her voice softening at the edges. “Do you have everything you need?”

“Yes,” she put on her coat, and touched Fareeha’s shoulder, “Let me be having that. I can carry it myself.” Fareeha opened her mouth to protest. “Carry for the guests.”

Doc twisted herself out of the van, keeping a narrow but necessary margin from Fareeha, and shuffled herself over toward where Mina and Haruka were standing. Mina continued to simply look in her direction, occasionally looking out toward the house, as she shuffled the extra bags onto her back. Haruka, it seemed, had a sudden recognition of the masculinity points at play, and hurried over to Fareeha, taking the bags off her and dropping her own duffel bag into the mud in the process. She frowned, but made no eye contact with Fareeha, only flung her and Mina’s bags over her shoulder and walked away.

Fareeha would say that she often asked for counsel, when it was warranted. As she marched toward the group, ready to lead them to their next location, a hopeful encampment where the evening would somehow turn around, she had a distasteful memory of counsel she had not asked for.

“It’s just not as I’m sure touring a few posh prats around is an excellent use of resources.”

“I was unaware you were so concerned over bookkeeping.”

“Right,” she put the pint glass down with a firm thump, “I should know better than to tell you anything when you’ve decided on it. Lovely! Let’s ‘ave the whole Kaioh family along! I’ll make egg and cress sandwiches and we’ll,” she wriggled her shoulders and stuck her nose in the air, “luncheon in the park, like little bohemians. Oh we WILL be charming, eh?”

“You are wrong.” Fareeha felt her jaw set. “And I will remember it, when we get the money.”

“Brilliant! See that you do. See that you remember me when it’s going pear-shaped, as well.”

Fareeha stopped, closed her eyes, turned around, and opened the van, picking up a blue RAF backpack with a rainbow keychain hanging off one of the zipper pulls.

___

Stepping through the window, Lena’s foot squeaked against the dark wood of the floor, the shout of a parvenue barrelling into the darkness. It should have echoed, given the wood and plaster, but itsead that squeak from the audacious canvas shoe was swallowed whole, gulped, and never heard from again.

Lena drew her other foot through the window, and dripped onto that centuries old floor, paused by the confrontation of that deep grey. It might have been easier if it were the absolute dark of a cave, a place people were never meant to live, but this was a house. Wasn’t it? People had lived here for ages, and parties and weddings and dinners must have been had here. Crowds must have gathered under the portico she had climbed.

That slight light, the one that might have been the moon reflected off the gilt mirrors hung on the wall, was like the mist in a graveyard.

She shook her head. It wasn’t even that dark. The room was even a nice shade of mint green, with pink soft furnishings accenting the rich tans and golds of the furniture. Yes, now that her eyes had adjusted, she could see that this had been a woman’s room, and since when had she felt uncomfortable in a woman’s room?

Assured of her own silliness, Lena stepped from the wood to the carpet, half-wishing she had removed her shoes. Maybe less than half, since she hadn’t done it. The plush of it sank beneath her, and her eyes drifted up to the figure of a woman with a pair of little dogs, woven into the faded tapestry behind the bed.

“Sorry about all this,” She tipped her sopping hat with a grin, “‘ate to be a bother.”

A ripple went through the room, and Lena held her breath. When she was a child, Lena spent endless nights over with her cousins, the lot of them all piled in the same room across a few beds. Some nights, when she had come back from a trip to the bathroom, she had known at least one of them was feigning sleep, lying with their eyes closed but waiting for Lena to walk by so they could grab her ankle, or pinch her, shouting, and then erupt into a pile of giggles. She knew the feeling, before the jump. She knew it like she knew the scar on Oliver’s ankle, or the way Parvati shook her head when she was annoyed. She would bet her life on it.

Something in this room was pretending to be asleep.

___

It was a longer walk to the house, barely visible in the storm, than Fareeha had thought it would be. The road, or what could be called a road, was muddy and

Doc was the most questionable factor. It wasn’t that Fareeha suspected she had sabotaged the van, exactly--for a start, she had not had the opportunity--but there was something about the way she watched the group. On the one hand, she was a researcher, and, apparently specialized in knowing something about Haruka. Probably a tabloid journalist, or something. Hadn’t she told Angela she was writing a book on the Kaioh family? On the other, they had only her word this was true. She knew something about Haruka, of course, but if she were an enemy agent she would have the same sort of information.

It was not the way she watched Haruka and Minako that gave her pause. It was the way she watched her, and Angela, and Lena. It was the sense of familiarity she seemed to have with them contrasted with the intense discomfort she seemed to be feeling. Of course, if she were an enemy agent, she could be hoped to be better at it, but Fareeha knew less of Talon training pipeline than she would like.

There was the difficulty that Haruka had asked her along, and so, if Doc was involved with Talon, Haruka was likely compromised as well. Fareeha would take that into consideration at a later time. Now, there was the primary concern.

As Doc walked a few paces behind her, quiet, looking at the stars and listening oh so carefully to the conversations

“Why are you acting so nervous?”

Doc practically jumped back, shaking her head and rubbing a thumb across the strap of her backpack. “What’d’ya mean, nervous? I just don’t know you people from Adam.”

“Except Haruka, of course.” Fareeha stopped. “As you are an expert in her history.”

“I guess, in an ancillary sort of way.” Doc shrugged, squaring her shoulders and continuing to walk, not meeting Fareeha’s eye. “But you get me. It’s like hanging out with a research project. You I don’t know at all. You’re what, some kinda soldier with a god complex? Why wouldn’t I be jumpy?”

“A God complex?” Fareeha strode alongside her.

“Yeah I shouldna said that last part out loud.” Doc continued her march, but turned to Fareeha now and then, like a terrier ready to nip. “Judge, jury, executioner, right? Doesnt’ take long to see that. I mean, when someone puts it all out there. Your mom was like that too, yeah? Must run in the family something fierce.”

Fareeha ground her molars together. “I am nothing like my mother.”

“If you say so!” Doc gave a wave of her hand and hurried on down the path toward the house.

Mina looked back to her. “Heh. That was pretty good, actually.”

Doc scowled into the night, trudging past, biting out the words of many a lesbian before her.

“Shut up, Minako.”

___

“‘Ello?”

Lena called down a long hallway where deep curtains shaded the windows. There was no one here, she knew it. Not a single light had been on in the house, and it was the chilly damp of a house shut up for the winter, and yet the feeling of someone in the place, not watching her, necessarily but listening to her, waiting for her footbal, breathing quietly in the darkness, pushed her onward.

She went to grab one of the curtains, pull it back to see into the night, but drew her hand back. It felt intimate somehow, like grabbing a skirt and flipping it up, exposing the indecency to the world. Lena couldn’t shame it that way. She was a gentlewoman, in manner if not in birth, wasn’t she? She couldn’t mistreat the place, when it had let her in.

“But I need to see.”

Why had she said that out loud? Lena talked to herself all the time, of course. She was just a chatty sort, even when no one else was there. How many times had Emily come upstairs with a smile, saying she didn’t want to interrupt the animated conversation? That was all.

She took a step forward, and her hand rested on a candleholder with a thick taper. Well. Wouldn’t do her much good, but the thought was nice. She nearly said thank you.

The drawer. What about the drawer? She wasn’t sure, it had simply entered her head that there was a drawer in the marble-topped desk, and sure enough, there was, and sure enough, there were matches there. Of course there had been. It had been waiting for her.

“Stop that.” This time, she meant to speak. There was no one here to assume she’d gone looney, so why not?

The candle was old, and the high flame glowered with the brightness of the tallow types, throwing light into the red velvet curtains, plush red rugs on the floor, edged with small benches, their carved claws digging into the dark floor, backs covered in the same deep, hot red.

Beautiful. Respectable. Storied and old. Worth looking at. Worth looking after. This was what England was made of, is these resolute buildings of stone, and these resolute families, and these resolute histories, and to be next to that was to be a part of England itself.

Lena jumped back, the flame jumping alongside her.

“Naw mate, not me.” She flung the curtain open, letting the moon cast her false silver against the false gold. “Place is empty. Nothing ‘ere. Lena, there’s nothing ‘ere. You’re tired, is all. Tired and told yourself too many stories. Fareeha’s going to think you’ve lost it once and for all. Just some ‘ouse for a bunch of poncey--”

She looked back into the dark behind her.

“Bunch of poncey little parasites. Outlasted you, didn’t we? Can’t keep me out now, Lady and Lord of whatever!”

She laughed as she went down the hallway, but could not convince herself it was a joke. ___

Everything would be different once they reached the house. This much was certain. Fareeha would retake control of the situation, and they would quickly find a way to contact someone, and everyone would get a room in some motel. That would give everyone a chance to regroup. That would give everyone a chance to relax. They would see how ridiculous they had all been when their stomachs were full and they were rested.

Even Fareeha was looking forward to the prospect of resting next to Angela in the quiet. Some tours of duty seemed longer than others.

As the house came into view, Fareeha could not help but notice that there were no lights inside, nor any other sign of Lena having arrived. Fareeha put up with a fair amount of silliness from Lena, because her talents were invaluable, she would readily admit, and she considered her a good friend, she would admit less readily. But this was irresponsible. Short of lying injured in a ditch, Lena had no excuse for this.

She marched to the front of the house, along the wide approach, taking the long way along the drive rather than crossing the lawn. Fareeha did not notice the carvings on the door, the depth and detail in them or their flaws of age, and the moon did not blind her as it glinted off the silver knocker, and the house did not whisper to her through those shabby shrubs as she strode toward the door. Fareeha did not hear the opening lines of negotiation as she readied to strike.

Before Fareeha’s unstoppable fist could meet the immovable wood, the door opened wide with a deep, dark, creak.

Who should we follow next?

#doc's choose your own adventure

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