#(I assume this must be the raincloud ask then)

[fragmentaryremains]

Hooray! Glad to see you're feeling well enough to answer asks! It's always great to see your thoughtfulness and research on display here.

On the note of angsty backstories, Ed is definitely the most obvious one that comes to mind. As you mentioned, it's something that's never been explicitly acknowledged but is there if you know where and what to look for. Kind of like history (and especially queer history) in general, hah. But really, I think that kind of applies in general. I mean, take Drum. It's been mentioned that he used to be a coal miner. Given that I recently saw a museum exhibit about coal mining, I can definitely appreciate how difficult it is. You get the idea—as you said, the others are definitely capable of angst. It just comes down to looking at those parts of the past and using those observations to figure out how that might apply to the characters. Look into the history of these places! You might be surprised by what you find.

On the note of history, good luck with your exhibition! I'm assuming you're part of the Edmonton Queer History Project based on some of the posts about the project you're working on. I did see an article on CBC recently about some of the work they're doing (though I haven't seen the TikTok that you mentioned since, well … I'm not on TikTok). Either way, I hope your work goes well and you're able to show it to a whole bunch of people! As someone who's just dipping their toes into the wider topic of queer histories, it's a really fascinating topic. I hope other people will get to learn about it and enjoy it too!

Are we gonna get any angsty backstories for the Albertans? I feel like at least one of them has to have a sad past

hi! sorry! hi!

another ask that kept me awake at night trying to parse. it's not you its me i promise i just tend to overthink things like this to the nth degree and well, if i can't find my way through it i will at least find my way around it and give an explanation! I'd much rather do this than just delete or leave an ask unanswered, so I hope that's ok.

re: ed, I've hinted several times at his angsty past throughout the blog and even ramble about it vaguely on main. If it's something you're interested in, I am putting almost all of my energy these days into creating an exhibition on it that you can see if you're in town this summer, so it's been on my mind a LOT lately. The actual details of his angsty past are a little in flux since its been a good decade since the plotline was first established by Quatsch and I, but I'm happy to clarify what I can for anyone interested. I just like to be cagey and vague about these things :)

ed obviously is my most developed character, not to say that the others aren't capable of angst but just that I spend a disproportionate amount of my time thinking about Edmonton history for both personal and professional reasons!

[evermourning]

𝐦𝐮𝐬𝐭 𝐛𝐞 𝐥𝐨𝐯𝐞 - bang chan

pairing: bang chan x reader

genre: fluff, comfort, slice of life, based off "must be love" by laufey

wc: 0.8k

warnings: neck kisses (non-sexual), use of nicknames (baby, sweetheart), language

now that you had someone you could call your own, it was like time stopped.

you were used to not much going your way, like the world had it out for you. it was some sort of sick fucking joke, like a dark raincloud hanging over your fate and covering up all that was good. you learned to code with it. that was how you lived.

until chan came along, of course.

he was the warm ray of sunshine you needed to push the melancholia inside you away. immediately, you could tell something was different. this guy was just full of so much love, it seemed surreal. intangible.

now, months into a relationship with the supposed man of your dreams, you missed him miserably. he sat absorbed in his work, the studio forming a impenetrable fortress that took away any means of self or time...and you sat in traffic.

whenever you were with him, the bad things faded out of view, and when you weren't near his remedial presence, they quickly made themselves known once again.

however, your boyfriend had taught you to appreciate the little things in life. you were composed, calm as you settled into the remotely soft car seat and looked out your window. the sky was like a canvas, warm colors with hues of reds, oranges, pinks, and yellows danced across the dimming sky as the sun bid its final goodbyes...until it would return joyously the next day, like clockwork.

when you finally arrived home, much later than anticipated, you opened the door to the smell of spices and a delicious and piquant scent wafting from the oven, and your boyfriend hard at work in the kitchen.

"you're back!" he said, grinning. carefully setting down the wooden spoon, making sure not even a single drop stained your counters. "i was beginning to worry, you didn't even send me a text..." he faked a pout, only causing your smile to widen.

"i'm sorry, the sunset was so mesmerizing tonight, baby. and i was stuck in traffic." seeing his incredulous glance, you let out a tiny chuckle. "i'm sorry, i'm sorry! in my defense, i thought you were holed up in your studio again, so i assumed you wouldn't even be here..."

"can't do that as much anymore," he mumbled, wrapping his arms around you from behind and resting his chin on your shoulder. "my baby would miss me too much."

you laughed softly, closing your eyes and feeling yourself get lost in the moment as chan pressed soft kisses along your collarbone and neck.

the little moments like these were the ones where you let yourself go, succumbing to the tranquility of the time spent with him.

you'd fallen so hard, you realized. sometimes you couldn't even believe he was your lover, feeling more akin to some silly school crush whenever you'd get all tongue-tied from his rampant flirting.

this was something more than a crush, though. this feeling of a blooming flower, spreading its vibrant petals far and wide throughout your heart was new. and you...liked it.

...

"where the hell have you been? you're almost alway busy nowadays!" your friend nagged on the phone. "don't tell me that no-good boyfriend of yours is monopolizing all your time...." you tuned her out as her incessant cacophony of yapping made your ears ring. instead, you chose to focus on your boyfriend's eyes, two serene pools of melted chocolate, filled with an elixir of love only for you.

"you're so damn pretty." he commented, staring at you, his lips stretched into a goofy little grin. "i wanna write another song about you."

"another?" you asked, hanging up on your friend. the silence felt heavenly. "you've been writing quite a bit recently, sweetheart...don't you think your fans will start to notice?"

his grin widened.

"see, that's my master plan. i keep all the recordings on my special laptop. therefore, i'll have them without the fans knowing. just for the two of us." he cooed, giving you a quick yet loving kiss. "you should go see ms. screech owl, now. i don't want to prove her point and monopolize your attention...although i really wish i could."

his words played on your heartstrings like a talented violinist, as usual. nowadays, he conducted an entire symphony inside your heart, driving you absolutely crazy.

nearly every waking moment, you felt euphoric, stuck inside a wonderland just for you. chan inhabited every waking thought of yours, and you just couldn't shake him. when he wasn't with you, it felt like a piece of you wasn't there. when he was with you, you felt like you were on cloud nine.

this wasn't normal, you concluded. there was only one possible answer to the scenario you'd entangled yourself in.

this was love, wasn't it?

[puckinghell]

The Plus One Pact | Part 1 | William Nylander

Summary: Your ex is getting married, and you don’t have a date, which means the unavoidable “why don’t you have a boyfriend” question is about to haunt you for the rest of eternity. But then there’s Will, who could be the answer to all your problems. A simple business pact, no feelings involved: that won’t be hard for you, because you really don’t like him anyways. Except pacts were made to be broken… or something. Right?

Note: This is part 1, let me know what you think about the idea of this series!

--

“I have a plan to fix this,” your best friend says, and there’s absolutely nothing worse than when Zach says that.

To be fair, when you called him in complete, blind panic, you weren’t really thinking straight. If you were, you would’ve started your tirade with a I don’t need you to fix this, but…

As it is, you forgot to say that, and so Zach is trying to fix it. That’s how your best friend works.

“I have a plan, too,” you say. You’re sitting on the floor in the kitchen, legs pulled up to your chest, and your phone is on speaker on the floor next to you. It’s quite a dramatic scene, with it being dark outside, the Toronto city lights twinkling below you; if you weren’t having a mental breakdown, you’d laugh about the high romantic comedy feeling this has.

“I’m going to throw myself off the roof and fake death.”

“If you throw yourself off the roof, it won’t be faking anymore.” Zach sounds undeterred by your possible impending death, which. Rude. Maybe you need a new best friend.

Outside, you can see the rain falling. Spring has arrived, but spring is really hit and miss in Toronto, and this week the weather has been dreadful. It kinda feels serendipitous, now.

“Zach,” you whine into the phone, “I can’t go to my ex’s wedding alone. You have to come with me.”

Zach sighs, but doesn’t say anything. To be fair, he’s already explained to you why he can’t do that – he has plans, and a wife, so - but…

“It’s so unfair.” You let your head fall back against the kitchen cabinet with a thump, and wonder idly whether you still have a bottle of wine stashed in one of those cabinets. If there was ever a time to pull it out, it’s probably now.

“I told you, I have a plan. We can fix this.” Zach sounds smug, which doesn’t do anything to help your worry.

He always means well, and he’s a smart guy, yet somehow his plans never work out too well for you.

“The plan that I have,” your best friend says slowly, cutting himself off to interject: “And don’t say no right away!”

That probably means you’re gonna say no right away.

“My plan is that you’re gonna take Willy.”

You laugh.

“Fuck no.”

--

So, it’s not like you hate William.

It’s just. You also don’t like him.

He’s always so chipper and happy, and there’s no way anyone can be that chipper and happy all the time. And he’s always confident, sometimes borderline cocky, and you never know whether he’s being nice to you or taking the piss, whether to take what he says at face value or with a grain of salt. You don’t know what to make of him, which makes you feel uncomfortable in his presence.

And then there’s the fact that he’s William Nylander.

Obviously, being friends with Zach, who loves William, there’s gonna be times when you’re around him. And whenever you are, it seems like the entire city is around him, too.

Clubs, restaurants, cinemas, even stores: you can’t go anywhere without people whispering, without a crowd forming. Sometimes people even follow you.

And you know it’s William, because it never happens when it’s just you and Zach. Even though Zach is, in your opinion anyway, just as big a deal in Toronto as Willy. So. It must be something about William as a person.

However.

The idea of having to go to this wedding alone makes you wanna vomit, or cry, or maybe both. You feel your skin crawl and your heartbeat speed up, and you haven’t had a proper panic attack in years but it feels like it’s just below the surface, when you think about having to see Noah getting married, while everyone around you is just feeling sorry for you because you’re still lonely and pathetic.

It was such a bad idea to get your entire family so involved in Noah’s life, because now they’re all gonna be at his wedding, and even your own family will look at you with quiet disappointment.

It’s too much, literally, for you to even process, and you blame that lack of mental capacity for the fact that you end up telling Zach he can arrange a meeting with William for you.

--

Toronto is still hiding underneath an everlasting raincloud, and everything about you is soaked by the time you hurry through the coffee shop door.

So far for your jacket being waterproof, then.

The coffee shop, luckily, is warm and cozy, and you wonder why Zach has never taken you there before. There’s something hipster about it, sure, with mismatched furniture and indie music playing, but it has the kinda relaxed vibe you’re always looking for.

That’s when you spot him.

He’s wearing a hoodie and a snapback, and his glasses, which somehow make him fit right in with the aesthetic of the place, as if they hired him to sit there and be pretty – shut up, you don’t like him, but you’re not blind - and drink coffee, to fit the decor.

He looks up when he sees you coming, a lazy smile appearing on his face.

“Y/N,” he says, almost amused, “this was unexpected.”

“Hey, William,” you mutter, shrugging off your wet jacket and hanging it on the back of the chair opposite him. “I’ll just go get a coffee and then I’ll explain.”

“No need.” William motions towards one of the two mugs that are on the table. “Ordered you a hazelnut latte with oat milk.” He sounds proud, and you assume Zach told him your favorite coffee order but you’re a little impressed anyway.

From anyone else, maybe you’d seen it as common courtesy, but for William, to think about that? You’ve noticed he has a habit of thinking about himself, first, so, that’s a thing for him.

“Thanks,” you say, and you must look as baffled as you feel because William rolls his eyes a little.

“It’s just a coffee. And call me Will or Willy, please. William is what my grandmother says.” His eyes twinkle when he adds: “Oh, and angry old white dudes on hockey Twitter.”

If you didn’t kinda need him, you would’ve probably kept calling him William just to annoy him a little: you’ve never really seen William – Will – annoyed, not if not jokingly. You’ve seen him happy, dejected, upset, but never annoyed.

It’s a mood he regularly instills in you, so you wonder if you could return the favor.

However.

“Okay, Will, so here’s the thing.”

You do need something from him.

“One year ago, I had a boyfriend.”

Will raises an eyebrow, takes a sip of his coffee in the most pretentious way. “Congratulations.”

“Do you want to hear the story?” you snap, forgetting for a second that you’re supposed to be nice to him. Old habits die hard.

Will holds up his hands and stills.

“So, my ex, his name is Noah. We got together when we were 16 and I thought he was the one for me. He was over at my house so much, my parents used to joke that we’d already gotten married and just hadn’t told them. He was as much part of my family as I was, and I thought we’d be together forever.”

Will takes another drink. His leg is bouncing up and down slightly; another habit of his that you really wish you could kick out of him.

“Long story short,” you decide to settle, “next month he’s getting married to the woman he cheated on me with.”

Now Will’s eyes widen, and you can tell he wasn’t expecting that. You bet he’s really not expecting your next sentence.

“So I need you to go to the wedding with me.”

It’s quiet. You take the chance to take a sip of your drink; it’s delicious, maybe the best you’ve ever had, and now you wonder whether Will spends a lot of time here cause if not, you’d like to make this your regular coffee place.

“You wanna go to this douchebag’s wedding?” Will asks, sounding incredulous. And, okay, maybe you can’t blame him for sounding like that. 

“Want is a big word,” you hum. You link your fingers together, think of your mom when she spoke to you last.

“You have to come, Y/N. I promised him he’d always be a part of our family, and if you don’t go he won’t feel welcome. Surely you’re over him, by now?”

“My whole family is going and I think my mom will disown me if I don’t go. I told you, he’s as much part of the family as I am. If I didn’t go, it’d be like… Me not going to my brother’s wedding.”

“But he’s not your brother.” Will still looks like he can’t believe what he’s hearing. “He’s a cheating ex!”

You sigh. “They don’t know about the cheating part, actually.”

When you and Noah broke up, you hadn’t been in a good place. You felt embarrassed, but most of all, worthless. Like it had been your fault he cheated: if only you had been prettier, skinnier, smarter, funnier, better, he wouldn’t have had to. He wouldn’t have fallen for Betty – his soon to be wife – if you’d been enough.

So, ashamed as you were, and knowing how much your family loved Noah, you didn’t tell them the truth. You simply told them you’d broken up because you’d grown apart, become different people.

In a way, you still think you made the right choice. You don’t think they would’ve chosen Noah’s side if you’d told them the truth, but it would’ve hurt them to cut him out of their lives, and still to this day he comes over all the time to fix stuff at their house or make them dinner.

You’re thankful for the way he cares about your parents, even if he never cared about you.

You try to explain this all to Will, but no matter what you say, the deep edged frown in his forehead doesn’t leave.

“I still think it’s bullshit,” he declares, a little too loudly, when you’re done. “But at least I get why Zach wants me to go with you, now. As a barrier.” 

He’s puffing his chest a little and it would be cute if it wasn’t so typically William-Nylander-out-there, and now you’re wondering if he’s making fun of you or if he’s being genuine.

“You don’t need to be a barrier,” you say, deciding to give him the benefit of the doubt. “I just didn’t want to show up alone and have everyone think I’m still all kinds of messed up about this. I want people to know I’m doing great in life.”

When you see Will’s questioning gaze, you frown at him. “Don’t be sexist. I am doing great in life, even if I don’t have a boyfriend. I don’t need a boyfriend for that. It’s just that my family seems to disagree with that.”

“That’s not just a female thing,” Will says, and he seems to genuinely get it. “My mom asks me about twenty times every week if I’ve found a girlfriend yet. She wants grandbabies and she wants them now.”

“Even with your hockey career?” you ask him. It seems silly to you, for Will’s family to focus on grandkids when Willy is still so young, living his dream in the NHL.

Will laughs. “She doesn’t care about that. She says she’s had enough of that with dad. She’s proud of me for my career, but she wants me to have the family life, too, and she worries it’s gonna be too late really soon.”

“You’re 24, not 55,” you huff. Will shrugs, but he’s smiling.

“Either way,” he says. “I can go with you to that guy’s wedding, and I can be your handsome, succesful, charming pretend-boyfriend.”

“And so humble,” you scoff, but there’s a weight lifting from your shoulders at his words.

“However,” Will continues, and the weight is back instantly. Damn it, you shouldn’t celebrate so soon. “My cousin, who lives in Calgary, has this baby shower, gender reveal party situation going on next week, and I don’t wanna listen to my entire family ask me when I’m gonna get a girlfriend for my babies every six minutes. So you have to come with me to that.”

You quickly do the thinking; one gender reveal party can’t last very long, you’ll just have to eat colored cakes and smile at people’s baby stories and chug some champagne, and then your wedding fears will be over.

However…

“Okay,” you say, “but my boss is getting married this weekend and I told him I had a plus one because I did, but Zach canceled because he’s a loser.”

Or, because his knee is bothering him and he’s doing some extra physical therapy to rehab it more. Whatever.

“So you’ll come with me to that, too, and we can practice for the real thing.”

“The real thing?” Will’s eyes twinkle and there’s an amused tilt to the corners of his mouth, and you realize you made it sounds as if you and him are gonna get married.

You glare at him and kick his feet under the table, and Will laughs a loud, obnoxious laugh that has always irked you but now that his full attention is on you, suddenly something like warm pride glows in your chest.

Maybe, this won’t be so bad after all.

Famous last words. 

[theshapeshifter100]

Wolf and Raven: Old Friends Chapter 7

First

Previous

Next

Masterlist

tw dissociation not from character POV

---

Several minutes later a black dot appeared among the rainclouds, and Raven landed nearby. She shifted and started walking over briskly.

“Is everything alright? That was quite the message.”

“My apologies, I could not wait for Haryad,” Erina gestured to Wolf. “Do you have any idea of how to help?”

Raven looked at Wolf and her brow furrowed. “I have not seen this before.”

Erina and Satyarani looked at each other, concerned.

“What happened to cause this?” Raven walked over to Wolf, cautiously waving a hand in front of Wolf’s face, which got little reaction.

“She walked into the tent, and froze like that,” Satyarani shook her head. “Even if you do not know what happened, you might still be the best person to help her.”

“Aye,” Erina agreed. “I will brew some more potion of Dreamless Sleep.”

“I thank you,” Raven said before turning her attention to Wolf. “Can you hear me my friend?”

No response.

“That is fine. I will… I will wait with you,” Raven stood next to Wolf under the tree, staff planted into the ground and occasionally being dripped on. The rain continued to hammer down and the light faded, and still she waited.

A small campfire was crackling away fiercely by the time Wolf moved.

She turned her head slightly, confused.

“…What…?” dread and unease still curdled in her belly, and she sat down heavily. Out of the corner of her eye she spotted her staff in the ground, and stared at it like she couldn’t believe that it was there. She slowly reached her hand out, afraid that it would disappear.

Her hand touched warm wood, and she wrapped her hand around it, gripping it tight and pulling it closer.

“Wolf?”

Wolf startled and looked to her other side, seeing Raven.

“Raven! What, what are you doing here?”

“Erina called for me,” Raven slowly sat down. “She was worried about you. You, you were not here.”

The huff of disbelief faded as Wolf’s face furrowed.

“Aye. I was… I was not quite here. I… I do not know. I am sorry,” she pressed the heel of her palm against her forehead.

“I do not think you need to apologise, although Erina and Satyarani are both confused as to what caused it.”

“I do not think that I know,” Wolf rested her forehead on her free hand. “There was a smell, mud. The smell of mud, and I… I walked into the tent…”

Raven waited for Wolf to gather her thoughts.

“… I know why,” she sighed. “It was often muddy in Nevar’s camp, and I did not leave that tent for months,” Wolf growled under her breath. “First nightmares, then rope, then the potion not working and now this. I thought I was better than this!” she slammed her fist into the ground. “Why?! Why is this happening now?!”

“That I cannot answer.”

“I do not expect you to, my apologies,” Wolf looked out towards the Shadow Wood. “I am so tired Raven. I am tired of my mind turning against me, I am tired of not being the person I used to be. You never met that Wolf. She was confident, and bright. It felt as though nothing could touch her.”

“She is still you, merely changed, as we all do.”

“Aye, I suppose. Still I will ask, did the potion work for you last night?”

“…It did not,” Raven admitted.

“It did not work for me either. I may take a stronger dose tonight.”

“I believe Erina is brewing a fresh batch,” Raven nodded over to the small campfire, where Erina was indeed brewing in a small cauldron. “Perhaps I should ask her for some?”

“It will do no harm,” Wolf agreed. “I apologise for dragging you from your task to tend to me.”

“You need not apologise. I do not feel I did much, I merely waited to see if you would come back.”

“And I am grateful for that, truly,” Wolf’s eyes trailed north to a mountain just beyond the River of the Diving Bird. “My apologies, I do not think I can be around too many people tonight,” the idea of sharing a camp with Erina and Satyarani turned her stomach into knots.

“I heard wolf howls last night. Is there a pack nearby?”

“I know of a pack within the Forest of Dawn Time and another in Triple Thorn Wood. They travel though, they may be in their seasonal grounds.”

“But you know where they are?”

“Aye, but they do not remember me.”

“But they heard you last night?”

“…Aye.”

“Then go if you need. I will tell Erina and Satyarani.”

Wolf looked over at the other two, before looking back at Raven. She nodded briefly before shifting into a wolf, and with one more glance over her shoulder, she disappeared into Shadow Wood.

 ---

Satyarani watched Raven fly back to the west side of the island from underneath the tent. The rain was coming down harder than ever now, and Erina was holding her cloak over the pot she was brewing from.

After a while Erina took the pot off the fire and brought it inside the tent, where gentle steam wafted off it.

“All finished?” Saytarani asked.

“Almost. It needs to sit for three hours,” Erina found a small hourglass in her pack and turned it over. “I cannot give Raven any tonight, but I told her that she is free to collect some before we break camp tomorrow.”

“I see,” Satyarani sat properly in the tent, hanging the damp fur cloak from one of the tent poles. “It was interesting to see Wolf with Raven, even after all of that. It was the first time I have seen her relaxed.”

“Aye…” Erina sat down properly. “It, it does not require much thought to work out why.”

“You have been somewhat antagonistic,” Satyarani pointed out. “However you have calmed down this last day.”

“That is some relief,” Erina rubbed her eyes. “Lack of sleep has been affecting me as well, I do not have energy to start an argument… and… I am reminded of why Wolf and I were friends,” Erina lay her staff across her lap. “And I no longer think she is lying. That display earlier… I do not think that could be faked, not for as long as that.”

“Then you would be wise to tell her that.”

“That I will, that I will,” Erina looked out at the rain. “She should be back before morning.”

“I will trust your judgement on that matter, you know her better than I do.”

“I am not so certain of that. I know the old Wolf would be back before dawn. I cannot be quite so certain nowadays.”

“You are all different people, and people change.”

“Aye,” Erina looked over at Satyarani. “I must ask, you do not know anyone here. Why do you still aid us?”

“I knew Raven, Raven of Old,” Satyarani corrected. “He is a good man, and I am here to aid him. I will admit that this island has taken some getting used to, and the magic here is very different to that of my country. However, it does have its charm.”

“If this is successful then all of Alaunus would be in debt to you twice over.”

“Then I will know who to call should my homeland ever be in danger.”

“That is a deal I would be happy to make.”

“I do not find it likely anytime soon, but as I understand, you are not mortal.”

“I was not mortal since I carved my staff,” Erina lifted it slightly to make the point. “The magic of the Enchanted Oak can change you.”

“I see, so you were once mortal?”

“Aye.”

“Raven of Old I recall being born immortal, for he could not enter the Chamber of the Three-Headed Serpent, what of Wolf?”

“I am uncertain, though it is likely that she is the same. They are both unusual individuals. Their ability to change form is not confined to their Staffs of Power, it is an ability they possessed since birth, as far as we know,” Erina paused to think, “as for this new Raven, I cannot say for certain. I do not know of anyone who has passed on their staff and mantle in such a way before.”

“We will have to wait and see I suppose,” Satyarani drew a knee up and rested an arm on it. “I myself am fashioned from the earth of my homeland. I was never mortal.”

“I see. I do not think I have heard of such a thing before.”

“The world has many magics, many secrets. Your Cyrus seems like the kind of man who would wish to learn all of them.”

“Aye. I fancy if he could spend his life travelling and learning new magics, he would.”

“What is stopping him?”

“…I do not entirely know. I should ask him when we meet up again.”

“As long as he obeys the laws of my land, he will be welcome in my country.”

“Did Raven obey the laws of your land?”

“For the most part. He did strain against them at times, and lose his temper several times. His anger was understandable, but there are laws in my homeland that cannot be broken in order to retrieve the Elixir of Life.”

“I can imagine,” a fond smile crossed Erina’s face. “He was always somewhat impatient. And could have quite the temper when he felt that not enough was being done.”

“Indeed, that sounds about right. The Raven of now does seem much more patient.”

“Aye, that she is. I wonder if she feels as though she has to prove herself? I do hope that is not the case.”

“Raven of Old casts a long shadow. It will be difficult for her to step from it.”

“If she can free Raven of Old and keep Nevar in the desolate realm, she will certainly step from his shadow.”

“Indeed,” Satyarani looked outside the tent, watching the rain fall. Erina followed her gaze, and the two fell into companionable silence.

---

Hoo boy, still not certain about the dissociation, but there you go I guess. Some time away from people and with wolves will be good for her I think

Erina and Satyarani talk of immortality. I had to change this real quick since I rewatched a Secret Temple story compilation yesterday, which had some info I had forgotten. Including the fact that Raven of Old was born immortal. This is important because I have a whole thought dump on immortality in the Raven series and that did answer one of the questions I had. I just had to separate Erina's thoughts from my own.It's mostly that Secret Temple often uses the term 'born mortal', implying that Raven of Old is not, but Nevar is, and I would assume Erina is too, which leads to the idea that possession of a Staff of Power can make you immortal, but then there's the whole of using it for evil taking time off your life and if that's the case how is Nevar still alive, what decides what is an evil deed? Is that why Raven of Old will not attack dishonourably, because it might be deemed evil by, something? And where in bloody hell do the Warriors with Staffs fit into this?! I was talking about this with my beta writer @fairyofsomething​ and honestly, I had thought that having a Staff of Power made you a sorcerer (to use DnD terms), but now it seems more like a warlock thing! Still, I have thoughts, that will be organised, somewhat, and put separately somewhere. Since you know, I'm overthinking a children's game show that might not have had as much thought put in.

[ashleyswrittenwords]

How to be a Queen [Part 17]

Summary: Princess Zelda is at a loss. Her handed royal responsibilities have begun to weigh heavily on her and she is eventually backed into a corner. Live a life she loathes or run away from everything she’s ever known? Navigating life is hard, and Link forces her to learn that she doesn’t have to do it alone.

Warning: Mentions of death.

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Part 1

How To Be A Queen

There were some things in this world that convinced me that the world made no sense. It was purposefully confounding to throw you off. It trifled with your daily expectations for the mere goal of amusement, whether it be the will of the goddesses or not, there was an aspect of life that compelled me to believe some force had a personal slight against me. It wasn’t obvious either. Whatever it was toyed in moderation, like scouring the house for a cup of sugar only to realize it was already on the countertop and you wasted an hour. The apathy of walking into a doorway to immediately forget your reasoning for going there in the first place, then having to turn back because your memory decides to be helpful ten minutes too late. Or, perhaps, when your mind dwells too long on a bitter person and their presence being within the very next door you walk through.

Then, those strange forces turn their back for a while. They leave you in paranoia and wonder how long they will be gone because you know it won’t be forever. And now, as I sit in a chair, hair dampened from the rain and a fireplace to the side of the small house I think that maybe instead of leaving they wanted to give their old antics a twist.

Rauru Gaepora busied himself at the table, flipping through a book with spectacles ready to slip off his nose at the slightest of movements. Habit told me to initiate empty conversation, however when I opened my mouth to comment about the humble room, he looked over with a stare that clammed up any words in my throat. He turned his attention back towards the book. I pursed my lips together.

My soaked stockings hung in front of the fire and a bubbling pot within the hearth. It smelled divine, which was ironic with the Temple of Time behind the small village of holy missionaries. The heavens were still spilling open outside and the light from the fire barely escaped the mantel with the shrouding darkness the rainclouds caused; night had fallen halfway into the day. It was a wonder how the old man could read from candlelight alone.

Rauru’s chair scraped against the wood floor and my neck snapped up at the sound. He sniffed, closing the book with one hand and looked over his spectacles at me.

“You’re hungry, I presume?”

Without waiting for my answer, he had already submerged the silver ladle into the broth and poured me a bowl.

I nodded in reverence, “Thank you, Father Rauru.”

My numb hands wrapped themselves around the warm bowl but it didn’t budge. I looked up in question. The old man stared down at my hands with a quizzical brow. “That boy isn’t feeding you?”

His gruff voice “humphed” as an afterword.

“Oh, it’s actually quite the contrary,” I said after a short laugh. “You see, I was fairly insistent on scaling the slope as quickly as we could and well – I got distracted.”

Rauru kept his stare and tapped my hand, “Some things never change with you, Zelda.”

“No, and I will take that as a compliment,” I took the bowl from him as he laughed lowly and sat in the rocking chair across from me.

White, bushy brows crowed his forehead. “You really ought to understand your father for keeping you so sheltered for he knew the wild heart your mother had.”

Up until three years ago, Father Rauru had been the religious advisor to the king. He had extensive practice with the ancient manuscripts and was well-renowned with anyone who was even partially devout. In my case, he was also my religious studies teacher since I was a toddler. And if anyone asked him, perhaps a part-time nanny as well. It had conveniently slipped my conscience that he was still taking an extended stay at the temple to strengthen his bond with the goddesses. Every priest was to do a pilgrimage to the Great Plateau with each decade, but not far into his own trek Rauru had made the decision to cut ties with the court in turn for paying religious reverence.

“Sunday service has been rather boring since you left,” I said, cooling a spoonful of soup. He looked towards the rafters at this remark, “Good. What you say is boring will leave some motivation to actually pay attention.”

I smiled. He didn’t change much either.

The door swung open as lightning struck outside. I jumped at the clattering and the scuffling of boots. Link fought the wind and shut the door. His cloak was dripping wet with one faintly lit lantern in one hand. He mumbled an apology when he turned to find two pairs of eyes on him.

“Do you plan to freeze by the door or join us by the fire, boy?” The old man deadpanned at his awkward idling.

Link bowed his head and left his cloak at the threshold. Once he pulled up a chair, I watched him with worry. The cloak didn’t do much to protect him, it seemed like he was drenched to the bone. I passed him my bowl of broth, but he pushed it away – not without staring at it longingly afterword.

“I’m fine, Zelda,” he started, gripping his knee with a vice. To keep from shivering, no doubt. We were in a warmer region, but it was still the tail end of winter. “It took a bit longer to find the stables in the rain.”

“Is Cozmo okay?” I asked in a softer voice with genuine concern.

Link rolled his eyes, “Being pampered, I’m sure.”

“I take it you’ve met the stable boys?” Rauru watched us with a bemused voice. “They’ve just started their training and have already proved to be too energetic for the temple. Please, Sir Knight, help yourself to the cooking. It must have been a journey to drag this princess across the country! I see she’s already named the horse.”

Link nearly jumped out of his chair and sprinted to the broiling pot.

I glared at Rauru, “I’m not that bad! And there’s no dragging about it.” Then, I turned to Link who was trying his best to avoid a mess. “Now am I, Link? Tell him.”

He looked between the old man and I. “Ah,” he paused, “It’s more of her dragging me.”

Rauru nodded as if he completely understood. I bristled at his lack of support but forced myself to settle in the seat. Our host relaxed and closed his eyes, “So… there was no kidnapping then-”

Link stood straight up. We stared wide eyed at each other.

He continued, “-that’s good. Very good indeed.”

“Kidnap?” Link echoed before I could.

The priest opened an eye, “Oh, you haven’t heard?” I groaned and set aside the bowl. Thoughts and assumptions about his words rambled in my head. He truly didn’t change. At all.

“Father Rauru, please. What do you mean?”

Link sat down with a frozen expression. We exchanged another glance.

“Nearly one month ago,” he began, taking his time and enjoying our reactions. “I received a letter from the king about keeping an eye out for the princess. Immediately I assumed it was about your own rebellious nature, but then he mentioned a knight and went on the ramble excessively about fearing your safety and whatnot.” Rauru waved a hand as if to dismiss my father’s words. “The Commander General cleared it up. I swear, Zelda, your uncle can read his brother like a book. I do believe I received a follow-up to quell any panic a half-day later.

“We are fortunate, yes,” he grumbled to himself while mindlessly stroking his beard. “Very fortunate indeed.”

At least the news of being a kidnapper didn’t scare away Link’s appetite. By the time the priest was finished with his spiel, Link had downed his first serving and rose for the second after a polite inquiry to the cook. “I was going to ask about the lack of wanted posters,” then he added more quietly. “The army’s motivation hadn’t declined that steeply since I left, had it?”

“Ah, well. I’m sure the marriage will turn out to be far more agreeable in the future,” Rauru lamented nonchalantly. I stared. Link stared - probably regretting how each trip to the pot seemed to bring about undesirable conversation. He stood by the mantel this time and I almost shook my head at his debating to eat the broth anyway.

My gaze flickered from Rauru to Link and back, “Have I missed a wedding?”

The thing about Rauru Gaepora was that he loved making people wait. Every experienced member of the court has remarked at least once before how the man seemed to have stayed the constant age of being a senile old geezer for the past two decades, but only a fool would assume his state of mind was a direct reflection. He used his age as an excuse to make people suffer further impatience without the ability to call him out. The holy aspect of his person made it all the much worse for those who didn’t know him.

His laughter was slow, “How horribly inconvenient it would be to miss your own wedding! Although I always dreamed of ordaining such a union.”

My eyes were bulging out of my head now and Link stayed motionless in the corner.

That was when it clicked.

The bowl. My hands. More specifically the lack of rings.

“Rauru, I am not married!” I nearly squealed. The addressed man feigned surprise, “Not to this strapping young man that whisked you away from your home?”

Link choked on the broth, turning to the mantel to keep from spitting across the room.

“Rauru that is hardly-”

Count to ten, Zelda. The grin on his face was true this time, the guise of being a clueless saint was gone. Along with it was the distinct laughter only a large statured man could bellow, also revealing his intentions.  

He heaved a sigh after calming down from the fit. Link was still coughing up a lung. “I haven’t lost my game, now have I?” He said as I gathered my bowl with a glare.

“Unfortunately not.”

“Pray tell, Zelda,” he started. “What caused you to leave home so suddenly? It’s evident no foul play was involved.”

Rauru’s eyes were softer. His fun had been had. I didn’t answer immediately. Thoughtlessly, I stirred the wooden spoon in my bowl and watched the contents mix together in a swirl. Hadn’t he mentioned it had been a month already? It certainly didn’t feel like it. My gaze drifted to Link, who peered through the window where the storm still continued its onslaught and then expectantly at me. It didn’t feel like scrutiny from him, more like a gentle witnessing. My pulse leapt.

“A culmination of many things,” I swallowed, looking at neither. My reasonings seemed to mount with each day. I glanced up at Rauru, “I’m not sure if I can follow Father’s footsteps like he wants me to. I needed a break he wouldn’t permit. And well…”

“And this young lad has taken up to guiding you. Now you’re here.”

I nodded.

Link set his bowl aside with a wry smile, “Not without its hitches.” I laughed softly. He didn’t elaborate. Rauru looked between us. Unexpectantly, he didn’t ask about the statements. Without judgement or conviction in his voice, “Do you want to be queen?”

Father Rauru didn’t seem bothered by the question. Instead, incredibly relaxed as if it were a simple inquiry. I blinked. No one had ever asked me that before. Feeling my palms get sweaty, I chewed my bottom lip. When I thought of Hyrule’s queen, I saw my mother. Her hair was always pinned high on her head with light curls that were impossibly perfect, wise eyes, and a voice I desperately wanted to recall. It had been so long, but I still remember how it made me feel.

“There is strength in knowing your limitations, Zelda. The kingdom won’t fall to pieces. The Council will convene to find the successor.”

I met him with a fierceness, “With all due respect, Father Rauru, but I’m not a fool. The Council is arrogant and care only for their self-interests.”

But he knew that because he was the one who told me. A gleam in his eye caught my words. “Do you want to be queen, Zelda?”

My forehead creased. There was only one answer.

Before I could remotely think of how to appease this interrogation, Rauru arose. “Would anyone care for tea?”

“That would be nice,” Link said almost too quickly. I gave the priest a weak smile and stayed in the fire’s warmth, smoldering in thought.

---

“Thank you again for your hospitality. We’re indebted to you, Father Rauru,” Link said with a kind smile. Tea had lasted far longer than it should have. The two men had bonded over old scriptures for at least two hours. Apparently, half the time I had nodded off on Link’s arm.

“Think nothing of it,” Rauru Gaepora waved him off. “I am deeply sorry I can’t host you two overnight. It’s such a shame they don’t build bigger cottages for lonely old priests. I will expect to see you again before you leave, Zelda?”

I mustered up a polite smile, albeit sleepy. “Yes, thank you.”

The rain had let up significantly, only a slight drizzle remained. After bidding goodbye, I let out an exasperated noise. “I thought I was going to die. I thought you didn’t read, Link.”

It wouldn’t take too long to get to the inn. According to Link, he had already booked their rooms and it was just up the road. The night was dark, though, and I didn’t care to stray far from his side. He winced at my comment, “Did you expect me to be all muscles and no brains? Ouch. I know I’m just a simple soldier boy, but still.”

“No! It’s just… I don’t know!” Embarrassment touched my cheeks and he seemed amused by it.

“Your uncle gave me more books than I can count.”

I hummed, “Oh, yes. He is a bit of a history nerd. Do you think he’s grooming you? You’ll turn into a little Nathaniel Nohansen.”

“You think? I’m almost positive he enjoys pop quizzes and seeing the absolute horror in my face.”

I nodded astutely, “I can see it now. He’ll make you change your name to Junior. Perhaps, give you a pair of those abhorrent glasses of his. Next thing you know you’re balding and have a strange craving for scones with honey.”

His laughter was everything. I found myself watching him. Link’s hair was still damp, but his eyes were bright and alive. Almost too easily, I leaned into him as we walked. My fingers grazed his own, interlacing lazily. Warmth and delight. He responded without words, pulling my hand closer and creating the hold seamless.

Link squeezed my hand before he spoke. “I only got one room. We’re not doing horribly money wise, but I’d like it to stretch out longer.”

“Okay.”

“It should have two beds.”

I pursed my lips. “Can we push them together?”

“Only if you ask nicely.”

A grin caught my lips, “I’ll just do it myself, then.”

Suddenly, he stopped walking and pulled me back lightly. I waited, not wanting to part from his touch. Link’s eyes were serious. A stoic blue that somehow made me fear getting lost in them. “Can I kiss you?”

My breath got lost in my lungs as I looked up at him. Even in the dark, I was sure his gaze would make any woman, and surely a good bit of men, swoon – especially me. “Must you ask?” My voice was weaker than before.

With the smallest of smiles, he enraptured me in a kiss. The darkness of the world dimmed darker and the flowers of my life bloomed brighter. His lips were gentle, but not cautious of my own. It dwelled inside me that Link was, ineffably, a companion that I would never want to part with. In that moment, it was realized to me that my heart would need to be torn before I willingly left his side.

Even that grew quiet as he kissed me against the stone wall of the Temple of Time.

[zach-the-fox]

Tribal Furs Episode 1: Close Encounters

Just wanna let you guys know I have revamped Tribal Furs and decided to take a new turn. Enjoy! Starring: @emmy-the-absolute-goof​ Beneath the canopy of the thick leaves lies the wooden, thatched-roofed houses of the village of the Fox Faction, a tribe of foxes with furs ranging in all colors of the rainbow. They all wear the same outfits; bra tops for vixens and loincloths regardless of gender. Each piece covering an individual’s unmentionables have the same colors as their body and face paints, marking their personalities as different. Among them is an orange fox, male in build, with blue markings all over and a blue loincloth to cover his unmentionables. His blue stripes on his face arms and legs comment the two arrows on his head and torso, pointing to the loincloth matching in color. He stands beside a fox, much older than he is, with grayer fur. The leafy headdress and colorful coverings all over the body suggest the older fox is the leader among the pack. Many stop and listen to the baritone voice the dark orange animal gives. As soon as he’s done speaking, the brightly-colored, blue-painted fox approaches him. “Impressive speech, Father.”

The greyish-orange fox turns to him. “What are you doing here, Boy? Must you interrupt a chief while he is busy keeping his people well-sought after?!”

“I have only come to stand beside you and watch how you handle the tribe,” remarks the young fox. “It is traditional for an heir to learn from their wisdom.”

“You are not worthy to manage a village!” the chief barks. “I do not consider you as an heir! And stop pestering me all the time! All you do is make things worse for the entire tribe!”

“But Father… I-”

“Don’t you “but Father” me! I never even wanted a son, yet here you are, a wasteful little imp roaming around without a purpose. Just go away, Flawed Fox.”

“I’m not “Flawed Fox,” the young one says. He steps forth to him. “My name is-”

“Silence!” The chief swings his arm across the bright orange fox’s face, slapping him, which causes him to recede. “I will hear no more of this! I expect you to keep away from me, and everyone here! Now, be gone!” The chief turns and vanishes inside his hut, leaving his son there in awe. The other villagers stare at the native prince for a few seconds before heading back to their business. The orange fox makes haste toward the trees, disappearing into the thickets. As he rushes away, a male blue fox with orange markings and a loincloth catches sight of him, watching with worry as he sees the boy no more.

 ***

 Far on the other side of the map is another village. But instead of it being filled with furry, pointy-eared creatures, this one contains those with snouts and hooves and are half the size of the foxes. In this village is where we meet a female warthog with brown hair, a lavender loincloth and bra top, along with lavender paint on her body.

Three warthogs gather in a huge gap in the center of the village and talk amongst themselves. They cease their conversations when the lavender-painted warthog walks up to them. They remain silent. “Hello, girls.” utters the warthog with a slight smile. “Quite the weather we’re having!” The three other animals keep their peace. “What are you guys up to today?”

One of them breaks their silence. “Just having a little chat. That’s all.”

“Oh really? What are you talking about?”

“It’s a rather private matter,” says another pig. “It’s not something to discuss out loud.”

“Oh… Well, can you tell me? I can keep a really good secret, I promise.”

“It doesn’t concern you,” the third one tells her. “It has to do with us.”

“Oh, okay… Uh, I’ll just be by the river if you need me.” The lavender warthog begins heading off away from the group, disappearing behind one of the huts.

“Phew, thank the gods!” says the second pig. “I thought she would never leave us. I don’t know how much more I can take with her…”

“I know, right?” the third one adds. “I mean, what’s her deal anyway? Why must she always get up in our business?”

The first warthog begins, “Looking for attention and someone to befriend. Her stepfather, the new chief, is very had on her. He shuts her out and doesn’t care too much for her, thus giving her no one to speak to.”

“No wonder everyone hates her; she’s nothing but unloved and a loner. The Gods have forsaken this entire village with her presence.” The other girls agree.

The warthog, having hidden behind the wall to give the illusion of leaving and overhearing, frowns and tilts her head down before walking away into the jungle.

 ***

 Deep in the dense jungle, the trees separate the villages to keep them from constant conflict. The terrain, however, does not change their views of one another.

The warthog appears as she ambles along the ground. “Why does no one like me?” She asks herself. “It’s not my fault I have no friends… Why does my father have to make things so hard for me? What did I ever do to become forsaken and an enemy? I wish-” Pain surges from her leg and up her spine after a loud gasp. She looks down and sees her leg clamped in a wooden spike trap. “Oh no…” The warthog grabs her legs and pulls, hoping to pull it out quickly. “Come on! Give me my leg!” Ruffling in the bushes causes her to fall silent and look around. “Hello?! W-who’s there?!” The bushes in front of her shake and tremble before a figure pops out. It reveals itself to be a fox with blue tribal paint and loincloth. He stares at the lavender-painted pig as he eases close. “No! No! Stay away!” The warthog struggles to pull her leg out fast, even trying to fly out. The spikes drag against her skin, opening cuts that ooze of blood. “Come on!” Panic dons her face as she continues to pull; her eyes opened wide enough to fit cocoanapples. More pain shoots up her leg, slowing her progress. The fox stops about three feet from her, yet she continues in her attempt break free.

“Stop,” says the fox in a low, calming voice. The warthog freezes, still keeping a face of fear. Her heartrate and breathing begin their slow decline. “You’re making it worse… Let me help you…” The fox steps closer, leaning toward the trap. He puts his paws inside and forces the ends of the trap open, scraping the inside of his paws in the process. The pig stumbles onto her knees, still trying to regain calmness. Noticing a change in the weather from clear skies to grey rainclouds, the orange fox puts his arms around her and lifts the wounded girl up. The brown-haired warthog remains still in his hold, her body still trembling from previously. The fox takes her into a cave where he sets her down. “Wait here.” He leaves for a brief moment, returning not more than a minute later with big leaves in his bloody paws. The boy then kneels by the warthog’s leg and proceeds to squeeze white fluid onto the wounds. The warthog clenches her hooves, shutting her eyes tightly as the pain burns her leg. The fox then wraps the cuts with the remaining leaves, covering her limb. He sits in front of her. “Is that better?”

The pig stares into the fox’s eyes. She’s unsure of what to say initially. “Y-yes… Thanks, I guess… Why are you helping me? Aren’t the Fox Faction and Warthog Warriors enemies? Why are you helping an enemy?”

“My mother always said that politeness is the key to friendship and trust,” he tells her. “I have nothing against you or your people…”

“You don’t?” The fox shakes his head. “Well, listen. I appreciate you treating my injuries and caring for me…”

“I learned how to treat wounds on my own,” he says. “I’m always out in the jungle and sometimes, like you, I stumble into the wooden spike traps made from the other tribes. Just be careful when you go out and walk. They are everywhere. My advice is to stay in the trees. Stay hidden, too, for sentries can shout you down with their bows and spears.”

“You are very kind… You are not like all the other foxes of the Fox Faction.”

“No… I am different… and everyone in my village tends to think that way about me… They think I ruin everything…”

The warthog moves closer to him. “I understand how you feel… My stepfather thinks I’m a bitter pain and that I’m useless… Because of that story, people of the village assume I’m nothing good. They all ignore me…”

“That’s something we have in common,” the fox tells her. “My father, who is the chief of my tribe, always screams and shouts at me… He says I can never do anything right, no matter what I do… His anger and prejudice have influenced the opinion of the village on me as well… He tells me I’m not his son, and that I’m nothing more than a “Flawed Fox”, a mistake from my mother… I don’t have any friends… It’s why I wander the jungle… I do so to get away from it all… Tell me, are you out here for the same reason?”

“Yes,” she says. “I just needed a place to get away… I share your pain, Young Fox… And the way I think of it, it draws us closer together… Not as enemies, but as friends.”

“Who are you, good warthog?”

“I am Emmy,” the warthog girl answers. “Emmy the Warthog. What is your name?”

“Zach,” the fox tells her. “Zach the Fox. It is a pleasure to meet you.” He manages a smile.

Emmy looks down at the fox’s paws. “Your paws are cut from the trap… Do you have spare leaves?” Zach picks the leaves by his feet and hands them to her. “Hold out your paws… Let me treat them.” She wraps the green leaves around the fox’s paws, patching up his injuries as he had done with her. “There… Feel better?”

“I do.” Zach continues to smile. “Emmy, you’re a nice girl. I don’t understand why people would belittle you.”

“I don’t understand why people belittle you, either. What is it that they see in us? That we’re spawns from the realms of the underworld?”

“They probably don’t understand us very much. Who needs the villages? If we can’t be friendly with them, we should be with each other.”

Emmy pauses for a few seconds, keeping her gaze on him. “W-what are you saying?”

“We should form a bond of our own. Come out here every day just to meet and hang out. No one to tell us what to do or how to think or how to feel. Our tribes may be enemies, but that doesn’t mean we should be.”

“And what if they know what’s going on with us?”

“Nobody needs to know. Why should they? They only hold us back and think harshly of us.”

“Yeah,” Emmy responds. “You are right! Zach, on this day, I form a pact with you and pledge to have your back, no matter what.”

“As will I,” he responds, locking his paws with Emmy’s hooves. They face each other, staring into their eyes and smiling, remaining sheltered in the cave.

[ren-c-leyn]

Another fusion story. This one is made up of these 1,2,3 prompts by @humdrummoloch, these 1,2,3,4,5 prompts by @givethispromptatry, and these 1,2,3,4,5,6 by @thependragonwritersguild.

 As usual, it’s an angister piece with some death mentioned in passing. No real details or gore, just a sad story.

  “It costs a story to cross this ferry.”

 I stared at the man in his tattered brown cloak, my hand still in my barren coin purse.

 “A story?”

 He gave a nod.

 “You tell me a story on the way across and I’ll let you off on the other side.”

 “That’s it?”

 Another nod.

 I supposed that was better than trying to barter with my last three coppers. Though, it did seem strange. Then again, I had survived strange. I gave the stranger a small nod.

 “A story, then. What sort of story do you want to hear?”

 “Whatever one comes to mind, for that is the one you need to tell.”

 Ah yes, more cryptic riddles. I hated riddles. But I stepped onto the small boat all the same and took a seat. He undid the rope and pushed away from the dock and into the fog.

 I tried to think of some of the childhood tales father would tell me, or some of mother’s old war stories. Neither came to mind. I couldn’t even seem to recall a single line of any of them, though I knew them all by heart. Instead, the only tale I could think of was the one I would rather have forgotten. Eventually, I realized this was what the ferryman meant. The bloody tale was the only one I could think of because it was the only one that would pay my fare.

 Surrendering, I cleared my throat and began the tale.

 “Once, there was a clan that lived on the Sunset Steppe. They were known as fierce warriors: a hard people that were said to be born with battle in their blood and steel in their souls. What outsiders didn’t realize was that the Steppe was a hard place, where you lived or you died by the blade. Not because of the people, but because of the monsters.

 Their biggest threat were the orcs. Most of them had differing opinions for why, but the shaman and the chieftain both had the same answer: There is no doubt in an Orc’s mind. They fight knowing they will win or knowing they will lose. And more often than not, they believe they will win, and so they fight to the death.

 The battles between the two tribes were always brutal, but they both picked themselves back up and rebuilt... but then, something changed.”

 I paused, listening to the water lapping against the old wood of the boat while I tried to piece my thoughts together. Slowly, the words seemed to string themselves together.

 “The orcs fell under the control of a more intelligent monster, one the clan had never seen before. She looked like a wizard’s experiment gone horribly wrong, bits and pieces of various creatures all stitched together. And she led the orcs to battle using her sorcery, crushing the clan beneath their heels. Thick rainclouds rolled over, penned them in with howling storms, while the orcs rushed in with their blades. The chieftain fell, trying to protect their daughter, as did the daughter’s guardian.

 'I said I’d protect you forever.'

 He drew his sword.

 'And I meant forever.'

 But forevers tend to evaporate quickly on a battlefield, don’t they? His certainly did.”

 I had to stop myself and draw in a deep breath. The story was getting off track.

 “When it was all said and done, over half of the clan had been wiped out, and the daughter was now the leader of a people with no warriors, and no hope. She went to the aged shaman to ask for her advice on how to save their people, for the orcs had vowed to hunt them down and finish their slaughter.

 The only solution the shaman could see was to earn the favor of the war god. When the young chieftain asked her how she could speak with the war god to gain his favor, she was met with an answer she did not expect.

  'You wish for things that cannot happen.' the shaman sighed and tapped the soot from her pipe. 'It couldn’t happen for me. It can’t happen for you.'

 ‘I will make it happen,’ the chieftain declared.

 The shaman watched her for a moment before sighing again.

 ‘Far away from home, you must wander, to the land of blood-red grasses. Seek the broken temple and speak the ancient oath. If the war god deems you worthy, he will show himself to you.’”

 I reached into the water, running my fingers over the foggy surface.

 “The chieftain went, of course. She saddled the best of their surviving horse and rode it hard for many days and nights, praying her people would still be alive on her return. The land of blood-red grass was on the western side of the Steppe, and it scared the horse, but the girl would not let it turn around. She pressed her heels into the flank, pushing them both forward through the mystical place until they found the broken temple.

 She tied the horse to a pillar before walking up ruined stairs and kneeling before the shattered alter. She spoke the phrase her father had taught her since she was a child, the blessing the the war god had given her people ages ago. And he appeared.”

 My hand sunk deeper into the cold waves, just as my mind sunk deeper into the tale.

 “When the Being revealed itself her breath caught in her throat. It… looked like a god, but not like how she would have assumed a god to look. But now as she watched it grow closer she wondered how she could have thought that a god would look like anything other than this.

 ‘You are a long way from home, Alpha-daughter.’ The war god’s voice echoed through her mind.

 She stared into the flaming eyes, unable to look away for even a second as she answered.

 ‘Not by choice, I assure you.’

 ‘Then why have you come?’

 ‘To ask for your aid once again. The orcs have sworn allegiance to an abomination, and have slaughtered my people... our people.’

 ‘You have fallen to mere orcs?’

 ‘No,’ she told him, shaking her head. ‘We have fallen to a sorceress monster in control of mere orcs. There is a difference and I would appreciate if you did not insult my parents’ memories by ignoring it.’

 Fear crept in, of course. It usually does not bode well to snap at a god,” I said as I pulled my hand out of the water. “But he did not strike her down. Did not punish her. Instead, he smiled, showing razor-sharp fangs.

 ‘A sorceress beast, you say? That could be fun. I’ll make you a deal, Alpha-Daughter. Swear me an oath, I will grant you the power to crush this creature and every orc to ever walk your homelands.’

 ‘And what is that oath?’

 ‘That you will bring me a trophy from this creature, and the strongest among the orcs you face, when you have finished your quest for vengeance.’

 ‘That is it?’

 'Do I have any reason to lie?’

 ‘Do you have any reason to tell the truth?’

 He puffed out his chest, the necklace on it catching her attention for the first time. It was made of... trophies. Fingers to be exact, and every finger came from different monsters.

 ‘Oaths mean something around here.’

 She looked him back in the eyes, making her choice.

 ‘Then I swear on my honor as the chieftain that I will bring back the trophies for you.’

 The god rose his clawed hands, and light filled the room. The chieftain shielded her eyes and then slowly blinked.

 Before her floated some armor pieces and a great blade, all of which surpassed anything she had seen before.

 ‘Constellations are forged in the metal,’ the war god spoke simply. ‘They will grant you the power to dominate your enemies.’

 She bowed and thanked him before donning her new armor. As she fitted the gauntlet on her hand she knew she would never be able to turn back to the way her life had been before. She would be a warrior now, a servant of the war god. Never to be called child again.”

 I paused again, thinking of how best to describe the last part.

 “When she returned, she discovered the shaman dead, killed in another orc raid, and the rest of her people scattered in various hiding places. Enraged, she spurred her steed straight into the orc stronghold.

 And just as the war god had promised, the armor and weapons made her more than a match for anything the orcs could throw at her. Even the magic of their new leader just bounced harmlessly off the gleaming metal.

 But something was not right... she couldn’t stop herself anymore. The blood flowed, and flowed, and flowed, and didn’t stop until every orc, regardless of age or guilt, was dead and their part of the steppe was on fire.

 She returned to her people, shaken and covered in more blood than she had ever seen in her life. The war god’s trophies in a bag on her saddle. A childhood friend was the only one willing to approach her.

 ‘What did you do to them?'

 ‘What I had to.'

 Had to, the words echoed in her mind. What the weapon and armor made her do. And as she rode back through the fields of blood-red grass, it began to set in just what it had meant when she asked for war’s help.

 She did not even speak the ancient oath when she entered this time. She just dropped the dripping bag onto the alter and climbed another set of ruined stairs to the only part of the second floor of the temple that hadn’t fallen yet.

 She watched from her balcony as night gave way to the coming of morning. The soft glow of pinks and oranges against the constant cloud cover made her ache for the life she’d once had.”

 And the boat touched the shore at last. The small bump jarring me out of the sad tale. I looked back to the ferry man and smiled sadly.

 “And that’s the story.”

 I stood up and stepped onto the shore, the fog starting to wane at last as dawn peaked through the swirling mass of white.

 “What happened to her? The Alpha-daughter?” he asked.

 “No one really knows,” I replied before starting to walk forward.

 After a moment, I swore I heard him mummer.

 “No one, except the ferryman and the woman herself.”

[kessielrg]

[Deltarune] The Pale Girl in a Dark World

Summary: “In this world, you have to lose something in order to move on.” Or, in which Asriel and Kris go on an adventure a month after Asgore and Toriel split up.

Rating: K

Word Count: 2,849

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For as long as I could remember, Kris and I had been able to read each other's emotions pretty well. Which is good, I think, because I can't remember a time in my life where Kris wasn't a part of our family.

Our ability to read off each other was at its peak when we were younger; Mr. Holiday even used to call us Thing 1 and Thing 2. If one of us gave the other a side glance, it meant that the other had to do something. If one of us gave the other a nudge, it meant that they were the target of Mom's wrath. A tap on the nose? It meant steal the cookies, and quick, before Mom came back. For awhile, we were so good at it that a lot of people assumed that Kris wasn't able to talk. Everyone in Hometown found out that Kris could, after a very clever prank they conducted one afternoon during Vacation Bible School. No more Signing Time with Alex and Leah...

But when Mom and Dad separated, the light that was once in Kris's eyes started to dim. Everything about Kris seemed a lot duller. I had a hard time reading Kris- some times I still do, and I hate it. Mom always says that the separation wasn't our fault, but deep down, it always felt like it was. Maybe if we had behaved a little better so Mom and Dad didn't have to conflict over how to punish us, or maybe if we had helped them when they had needed it, maybe we would have all still been together.

Suffice to say, Kris wasn't the only one that changed.

It wasn't fair to Kris that Mom and Dad could no longer stand in the same room together, so I started to take them to the diner on Sundays for hot chocolate. We would stay there for hours- not wanting to be reminded that Dad would never come home or hear Mom say awful things about him. Sometimes we laughed and joked about the kids at school. Sometimes we cried. But even when it felt like our parents had abandoned us, we still had one thing; our adventures.

Mom taught the younger kids at our school, and since she was a teacher, she had a key to the school so she could get in whenever to set up the classroom. One day, Kris had managed to nab Mom's key and get a copy of it for us. It felt wrong, sure, but we soon had a place where we could play without anyone spying on us. The school had become a safe haven, even safer than the diner. I forget which one of us had found the abandoned classroom- but all I know was that it became our base of operations. If we wanted an adventure, that classroom was where we started.

The news of the separation still hung in our heads a whole month later. Mom could pretend that nothing was wrong, and Dad seemed to be fine. But me and Kris? It still felt like everything was wrong. We hid ourselves away in school, making our way to the abandoned classroom. Where else did we have to go?

“So, um...” I tried to start, if only to say something, “I started looking at colleges.”

Kris looked over to me with a horrified expression.

“D-don't worry!” I then tried to tell them. “I don't want to go far, and I'll come back when I can. It's just… it's time, you know? For some change.”

Kris still gave me that same fearful and betrayed look as they turned away. I was going to abandon them, they knew it, just like Mom and Dad had. I honestly wasn't trying to and if I had the power, Kris would have come with me.

When we approached the abandoned classroom's door, something felt… different about it. Kris was the one to try to open the door but hesitated.

“We don't have to visit today.” I reminded them. “We can come back whenever.”

Kris gave a small shake of their head. They had to visit today. We had to visit. So, after a taking a deep breath in, Kris took a firm hold of the doorknob and opened the door.

It was very, very dark inside and only getting darker. Kris was the first to step inside, I followed closely behind. The door shut behind us after we were far enough in, but neither of us seemed to notice. In silence, we walked through the darkness. It might have been a few minutes, or maybe a year for all we cared, but eventually the darkness started to fade away. Our feet were now treading on a dirt road with large willow trees at the side, blocking any sunlight that could have been seen. But there wasn't a sun here. There was never a sun in this place- only darkness.

Kris was now wearing light armor consisting of a silver breastplate, boots, shoulder pads, and gloves laid over a dark under bodysuit. Over their shoulders and covering one of the shoulder pads was a small striped cape. I, on the other hand, was wearing heavy armor created from pure obsidian. The large shoulder pads, torso piece, and tasset were all one part of the upper armor. My boots reached a little over my knees, leaving only my lower thigh unarmored and showing a bit of my under bodysuit as well. When our armor appeared, we never questioned where we got them or if we had even bothered to change before hand; having our armor on meant that there was an adventure to be had, and we were going to find it.

We continued down the road and eventually a small figure started to appear on the horizon. As we came closer, I began to realize that it was a human. Despite the darkness, their skin was noticeably pale and their hair near platinum. When we were close enough, my heart nearly skipped a beat; it was a girl. The Pale Girl (who Kris said I couldn't name or I'd get attached) stood there waiting for us at the end of the road. Her face seemed a bit smug, but otherwise expressionless.

“Welcome travelers.” she greeted with a half smile. “I see you made the journey well enough.”

“The journey is always easy when you know the way.” I coolly told her as Kris and I took a bow. Impressed, the Pale Girl gave a small bow of her own.

“Need I remind you,” she then said, “In this world, you must lose something in order to move on. It can be something trivial, or even personal, but when you leave it will stay behind as tribute to your journey.”

“I'm sure we'll manage.” I teased in return. Kris gave a nod of agreement. If it wasn't important, then we wouldn't be here.

“Very well.” she once more smirked. “Then you must find and slay the witch that ravishes this land. Only then will you be allowed to return home.”

Kris folded their arms with some skepticism. It seemed easy- far too easy. They looked over at me with a raised eyebrow. They didn't trust her. Of course they didn't.

“It's our only way home.” I reminded Kris. “We have to.”

Still a bit annoyed, Kris put their arms down and gave a nod. If they had to…

“Excellent.” the Pale Girl mused. “Follow me, for there will be many trials you must face before you can fight the witch.”

Kris gave me another look that was pure 'are you joking?' to which I easily shrugged off and started to follow the Pale Girl. With a small, kinda annoyed sigh, Kris shook their head and followed as well.

Time only seemed to stand still in this odd world. There was no reference for night or day, only how long it took to walk from one point to another. Even then, that seemed dubious at best when you swore that you walked past the same tree five miles back- right down to the apparent claw marks on the side of its bark.

“Here we are at your first challenge.” the Pale Girl announced to us as we approached a large wall. Made of stone and protected by magic, the wall was far too high for any of us to climb. Kris gave the wall a throughout look and walked a bit closer to it, gently moving their hand against the stone.

“What is it Kris?” I asked, moving closer to them.

Kris didn't look at me, but they pointed to a mural on the wall. The mural held three separate images that told a bit of a story: the first image depicted a small girl, she looked sad and lonely. In the second image, she came upon an older looking monster and seemed to be bargaining with it. In the last image, the girl had apparently gained magic powers -her hands emitting a dark glow- as a raincloud hung over the girl's head, depicting her sadness and power.

Below the mural was a message: 'When someone wishes to find something, they must first lose their heart. In order to pass, you too must lose your heart.'

Kris raised an eyebrow at the riddle. It took them a few moments, but in realizing the solution, Kris put a hand to their chest.

“Kris?” I wondered. “Are you alright?”

They didn't respond for awhile and only pressed their hand further into their chest. Then, in a motion almost too quick for me to notice, they reached into their armor and pulled out a locket. When I saw it, my heart fell.

“The locket Dad gave us...”

Kris gave a small nod while looking at the locket. The locket was made out of solid gold and formed in the shape of a heart- I have one just like it. Inside was a small picture of us, shortly after Kris had joined our family. On the outside, the words 'Don't Forget' had been etched on. The full phrase was supposed to be 'Don't Forget Where Your Heart Lies' but there hadn't been enough room. Dad had given them to us that Christmas, and Kris and I vowed never to part with them. But then again, Mom and Dad used to promise that they wouldn't part either…

“Are you sure?” I asked Kris before putting a hand on their shoulder.

Sure enough, Kris hesitated; their fingers wrapping around the locket tight. But they rolled my hand off their shoulder regardless, and placed the locket into the mural itself- placed in the last picture where the girl's heart would have been. With the introduction of the locket, the wall started to glow and faded away.

“Good work.” the Pale Girl said. “Let's continue, shall we?”

Kris gave me a funny looking look of mild disgust as we went on. We followed the Pale Girl further down the road- the sky slowly growing lighter as we continued, almost as if there were hope despite the overall darkness. She only made us stop walking when we came to a cave. Just like the wall before, the top of the cave entrance held a message for us; 'Those who take a sword will die from it.'

“Here we are.” the Pale Girl instructed us. “The witch is in that cave- go and defeat her.”

“We'll be out in no time.” I assured her.

The Pale Girl gave an amused snort. “I have no doubt about that.” she agreed. “Good luck.”

Good thing she wasn't actually there when we fought the witch. The witch in question did not seem human or monster, but nasty all the same. Using my obsidian sword, I was able to make brute, close range attacks while Kris used their bow and arrows to distract the witch. We have had enough adventures to know how to work together well enough- this just seemed to be the day where we all ended up rather unlucky.

The witch seemed invulnerable to close attacks, and the arrows Kris were using were made of the same element the witch was. Any attacks we made caused so little damage that it was practically a joke. At some point we decided to fall back and think something else out.

“Our attacks aren't working,” I told Kris, despite it being rather obvious by now. “We need to act instead. But how?”

Kris bowed their head as they tried to think of something. After a few moments of brainstorming, they popped their head back up and pointed to my sword. Confused, I looked at them as if they were nuts. But then it hit me.

“Those who take a sword will die from it...” I mumbled as I finally realized what the runes on the cave had meant. “I have to give her my sword in order to defeat her.”

Kris nodded. I gave them a wide, bright smile. Giving them a pat on the head, I told them happily, “You're a genius Kris!”

Have I ever mention how much I enjoy Kris's smile? Their real, genuine smile? I smile just thinking about it; it's that infectious.

Recomposing myself, I turned my attention back to the witch.

“Hey ugly!” I shouted at her. “Catch!”

The witch paid enough attention to see as I hurled the sword right at her face. She took a firm hold of it with her left hand, and for a moment, she paused. Slowly, she brought up her other hand to keep hold of the sword hilt. The sword's tip was only inches away from where her heart lied, and with one thrust, it was pushed through her body as if it were wet tissue paper. The witch then convulsed as her body cracked in several places- when she exploded into small bits of darkness, my sword went with her.

“I liked that sword...” I whined for a moment. And I had; made it myself far too long ago. Kris brought me back around, placing a hand on my elbow. I looked over at them and smile.

“Right,” I agreed, “We have to go tell her.”

And together we left the cave to greet the Pale Girl. She must have known that we had slayed the witch, because there was just… something different about her- like a curse had been lifted. The sky too seemed far perkier than ever before; it was like the sun had finally peeked through on an overcast day.

Kris knew what had happened right away.

“M-me?” the Pale Girl stuttered. “How am I the real witch?”

Kris glared at her. They indicated that she had given them clues throughout the journey; the riddle where they had to give up their locket, it had depicted the story of how she gained her powers. And the 'witch' that we had just fought? That was the one who had tormented her- essentially, Kris had pointed out that we had just done the Pale Girl's dirty work. It must have been true, because the Pale Girl stood straighter.

“You know nothing of the situation.” she hissed at us. “I did not seek to do harm, I only wanted to learn. But instead I lost everything.”

“Your name,” I carefully said, “You lost you name, not everything. And… it's Ausra, isn't it?”

Hearing the name, the Pale Girl looked up at me in shock.

“How…? I never told you...”

“You lost your name, didn't you?” I then asked as walked closer to her. “So you could have magical powers like monsters do.”

“Some.” she corrected. “Some monsters do. But this isn't the time to discussing that.”

The Pale Girl straightened herself up a bit more before saying to both of us, “What is done is done, and you have finished what I requested of you. The path home is opened for you two heroes. Thank you, and good luck.”

“What about you?” I asked. “We can't just leave you here alone.”

The expression she gave me was a somber, yet sad one. “I'll be here.” she promised. “When you think that you're alone, just know that I'll be right there beside you, even if you can't see me.”

One part of me knew that she was right, the other wanted to refuse and insist that she come with us. But Kris was ready to go home, so I gave her small nod and just left her there. The door back home was right there, so Kris and I went through. Before I closed the door, I took one last look at the Pale Girl.

Don't forget…

Kris and I returned to the school without any other fuss. I turned to look at them, and they looked at me. The look they gave me illustrated that they did not want to go home yet. Giving a small sigh, I put a hand on their shoulder.

“Let's get some hot chocolate.” I offered. Kris gave a nod, that would do for now. Anything to avoid the inevitable.

[wildfluffyappeared]

I wrote some cute Sayori x MC stuff~ “My Sunshine” (POV: MC)

I stand outside Sayori’s house, waiting for her to come out. I don’t care if I’m late to school; it’s not like I’m going to pay much attention anyway, so if I’m late it doesn’t really matter. It’s more important to me to walk Sayori to school.

See, a month or so ago, I joined a club where Sayori’s the Vice President: the Literature Club. At first, I was… being a typical teenage idiot, only concerned about how I could try to date one of the girls in the club. But… Sayori started acting different. Eventually, one day she left early. Monika, the club president, suggested I leave early too, just to make sure she was okay. So I went and followed her home, catching up to her about halfway there. We talked for a bit. At first, she was upset that I came after her, saying that I should be worrying about more important things. But eventually, I got it out of her: she’s been struggling with depression her whole life. Naturally, I was floored. But I committed myself to helping her out with her feelings. Monika and I talked her into seeing a therapist, and… she’s still depressed obviously, you don’t get over that in a month, but she’s already doing so much better.

Lately, I’ve been trying to be there for her as much as I can be. It’s kinda hard for me because… I realized after a while that I really like her. Like, a lot. But I can’t ask her to be my girlfriend, not yet. That would be too much pressure for her right now, being in a relationship. She needs to prioritize herself right now, and I think it’s important that I try my best to be there for her without any strings attached.

Suddenly, the door opens, and out comes Sayori, on time today, her red hair glowing in the sunlight. She looks a lot more put-together these days. Long gone are the days of messy hair and toothpaste-stained collars. I think she’s feeling more motivated lately, because she sees herself making progress, which in turn helps her make more progress. I couldn’t be prouder of her.

“Good morning, sunshine,” I say, grinning widely. “Sunshine” is my nickname for her. I started calling her that in response to her usage of “rainclouds” as a metaphor for her depression. I guess I just call her that to remind her that while she may have rainclouds over her head, she’s still a warm and bright ray of sunshine to me.

Sayori beams back at me. “Good morning yourself, dork!” she shouts, giggling. We head off to school together, Sayori animatedly telling me about the breakfast she cooked for herself this morning.

“And I didn’t even burn the house down!” she finishes triumphantly.

“Aww, I’m so proud,” I say, wrapping one arm around her gently in a friendly hug. She blushes slightly before wrapping her arm around me in return.

“Hey, MC…” she says softly. “I remember just a few weeks ago, you were afraid of anyone thinking we were a couple or something, and yet here you are now, with your arm wrapped around me in the middle of the street. Funny, huh?”

Now I’m the one who blushes, embarrassed. At this point, I certainly wouldn’t mind anyone thinking we were together, but… again, I can’t put that pressure on Sayori right now. “D-don’t get the wrong idea!” I shout.

She giggles again, nudging me with her elbow. “I’m just teasing you, silly! Ehehe~”

***

The school day passes and we’re back at the Literature Club. I spend some time reading manga with Natsuki today. I’ve been trying to hang out a bit with everyone on different days. Before the festival, I was anxious to approach Monika, but in the wake of helping Sayori with her depression, she and I became better friends, so now I hang out with her too, along with the other girls.

Natsuki, on the other hand, has quickly become one of my closest friends. Ever since she came out as lesbian to me, she and I both seem to have eased up our tension around each other, and now that there’s no romantic tension, we’ve bonded a lot over the past couple weeks. I kind of see her almost like a little sister at this point.

Natsuki and I have almost finished Parfait Girls, so we’re trying to get to the end today. The ending of the story is really very satisfying, and honestly I didn’t expect it to turn out to be so interesting. As I close the manga, I look over at Natsuki. “So, what now, Natsu?” I ask, using her shortened nickname.

“Now we get to talk about stuff!” she says with a smile. I assume she’s talking about discussing the story, until she continues, “Like… Sayori, for example.” She looks at me knowingly. “When are you going to ask her out, MC?”

I blush again. “Natsuki… it’s hard, you know? I don’t want to put the pressure on her of being in a relationship right now. And she might feel obligated to say yes…”

She laughs. “MC, you sound like a broken record, you say that EVERY TIME someone brings this up. She already seems to be doing a lot better. I think if you ask her out, she’s strong enough to say no if it’s not what she wants. You know what I think?” She fixes her magenta eyes on me. “I think you’re afraid. You’re afraid of rejection, or that you’ll do something wrong and hurt her.”

I avert my eyes. I know she’s right, deep down.

“But you know what? That’s a risk we all take, all the time, whenever we’re talking to anyone. And the fact that you’re so concerned about her well-being? The fact that you care so much about making sure she stays happy? MC, that means you’d be perfect for her. Plus, you’re so oblivious, she probably likes you too and you just don’t know it. So just man up and tell her, idiot!” she finishes, punching me softly on the shoulder as she does.

I chuckle. Maybe she’s right. But… “Natsuki, you’re one to talk. What about you? When are you going to ask Yuri out?” I ask, teasing her now.

Her face turns red, and now she looks away. “Y-Yuri? What? I don’t… like Yuri…” Her reaction completely gives it away. Of COURSE she likes Yuri. I don’t know who she thinks she’s kidding.

“Fine, fine,” I say, chuckling. I know I’m not going to get anywhere with this. But maybe she’ll take her own advice. She and Yuri deserve each other, to be honest. Their personalities complement each other so well. I really feel like Natsuki would help Yuri come out of her shell, while Yuri would help Natsuki temper her emotions and express them more clearly.

Before I can say anything else, Monika’s voice rings out from the front of the room. “Okay, everyone! It’s time to share poems!”

Oh wait… Dammit! I forgot to write a poem last night! I guess I’ll hope I have one in my backpack…

***

I found one in my backpack, thank goodness. Without even looking at it, I walk over to Sayori. “Hey, sunshine,” I say with a smile.

“Hi, MC! I’m excited to see your poem for today,” she says with a smile. I quickly hand her my poem.

Her eyes scan over it… once… twice… She’s… blushing now. What? What did I give her? Oh god, it wasn’t… that one, was it? I didn’t write that planning to show it to her…

She places the poem down on the desk. “It’s… it’s lovely, MC.” She’s grinning and blushing so much… I look at the poem I handed her. Oh god. Yep, it’s that one. I wrote this about her a while back. I wrote it as a sort of response to the first poem she ever showed me.

 My Sunshine

 Even though the rainclouds may block the light from your blinds in the morning

I want to let you know I missed you.

I want to kiss your forehead to help you out of bed.

Make you rub the sleepy from your eyes.

 Oh, sunshine, won’t you come out to play?

I’ll do my best to help you through your rainy days.

The rain comes down, but when I’m with you

Just like your eyes, my sky turns blue.

 I don’t want you to sleep forever.

Please don’t be mad.

 I’ll make you breakfast.

 Aside from being a blatant admission of my feelings, the whole poem is stolen from her ideas, so it’s not even good. I blush, and quickly take the poem back. “S-sorry… That was the wrong poem. You weren’t supposed to see that one, Sayori… I’m sorry I kind of… stole your idea.”

Sayori’s still blushing. “That’s okay, MC,” she says quietly. “I still liked it.” She giggles. “Aaaanyway, here’s mine!” she says, abruptly changing the subject. I take her poem.

 Mask

 The happy mask I wear each day

Is starting to crack and crumble away

I mustn’t let it, no, please stay

For if it’s gone, what will everyone say?

 When they see the tears that mark their place

With salty tracks streaked down my face

All my efforts will go to waste

Of trying to make this a happy place

 I don’t want them to know how sad

I feel, and that things are so bad

I lied to them, they might even be mad

God, I just want to make them glad

 It’s too late now, the mask is broken

But in their eyes, a new light has awoken

 Is it really okay to let them care for me?

It’s starting to feel better, so I guess it must be

Their relieved faces are a joy to see

When my real face smiles, and I start to feel free

 This is… wow, she really does seem to be doing a lot better. “Sayori, this is amazing! You’re always so talented at conveying emotions, sunshine,” I say with a grin, before blushing after I realized I called her by that nickname again.

She blushes too, and says, “It’s nothing, really… Hey, go share with everyone else, okay? We can talk more later, on the way home.”

I smile and stand up. But first, I’m going to my backpack and finding a different poem. That one isn’t for anyone’s eyes but mine. And… Sayori’s, I guess.

***

Well, the club’s over, and Sayori and I are walking home now. She and I are both quiet the whole walk home. She’s probably feeling uncomfortable around me right now… I’d better not push it.

We arrive outside her house, and she almost keeps walking without realizing it. “Hey! Earth to Sayori,” I say, trying to get her attention. She seems startled, stopping in her tracks.

“O-oh, we’re home already…” she says, sounding disoriented.

“Yeah… Sayori, is everything alright?” I ask, concerned.

“Huh? Yeah, of course. I’m just thinking a bit. Nothing bad, I promise!” she says.

“Well, whatcha thinking about?” I say. I don’t want to leave her when there’s something on her mind like this.

She blushes again. “Just… about that poem you gave me earlier…”

Oh… “Sayori, I’m sorry about that. I didn’t mean to make you feel uncomfortable or—“

My sentence is cut off as Sayori suddenly wraps her arms around my neck, pressing her lips to mine. Without thinking, I pull her against me, kissing back. I softly trace my fingers through her hair, holding her close. She pulls away and smiles up at me.

“I was waiting for you to finally tell me you liked me, dork. It’s been obvious for the past couple weeks,” she says, giggling.

I blush again. Wow, I’m blushing a lot today… “Sayori… I…”

She cuts me off again. “You don’t have to say it, MC. I will. Will you be my boyfriend?” she says, a massive grin on her face.

I… Sayori wants to be with me? Here I was, thinking I’d be putting undue pressure on her by pursuing her, and this whole time, she wanted me? Wow, Natsuki’s right, I’m oblivious as hell. “Of course I will, sunshine,” I say, a grin breaking on my face again.

“Yay!” she shouts, before kissing me again. “You wanna come in and hang out for a bit?”

I nod, smiling, and we go inside. After all, with the sun shining so bright today, it could be nice to get some shade.

[maggyme13]

Mountainside

AN: I wrote this Oneshot for @mydragulesebastian 2.5k writing challenge.

I hope I got the charakters right (this was the first time writing Bucky Barnes for me) :)

Pairings: Bucky x Reader

Words: around 2400

Warnings: none

When a trainings exercise was interrupted by a storm, (y/n) and Sgt Barnes had to find shelter in a little cave and sit it out.

 Your feet and back were aching from the long walk up the mountain you had behind you, and the pain didn´t ease when you thought about the way ahead.

You were working for the AVENGERS for half a year now and it was obligatory for any member to participate in regular fitness tests.

And that was what you were doing now, scaling a 3000m high mountain without any technical help. Your only companion was Sergeant James Buchanan Barns, also known as `The Winter Soldier´ or Bucky (for his friends).

The test was scheduled and planned in a way, anybody would be prepared should a mission lead them in this kind of terrain.

But unlucky for you, the others had finished this exercise a few weeks ago and only Barnes was left, what caused the Captain to give you a harder route then you thought necessary.

You can´t remember to have ever seen or heard of a supermarket (or mall) located on the top of a mountain, without a street to connect it with the civilisation.

That´s right, you weren´t working for the AVENGERS as another superhero, but as a caretaker that cooked, baked, did the grocery shopping and sometimes even washed their clothes (should they ask nicely and have a good reason to not be able to that on their own).

So, you weren´t quite sure why you had to do that.

It wasn´t that you were totally unfit, you loved to go on little hikes (but that means you choose easy tracks and weren´t doing them with a supersoldier that seemed to fly up the mountain).

“Come on Ms (y/n). I am already going the slowest pace possible.” He groaned annoyed.

“Not everyone can be a supersoldier Mr. Barnes.” You answered just as annoyed as he was back.

You didn´t know why, but he always called to Ms (y/n), so it was only right for you to call him Mr Barnes or Sergeant Barnes. You were kind of his employee. (Well his and the others, but those had started to call you only by your first name or nicknames quick. And so did you).

“What am I doing here? It´s not like I am going in the field to hunt bad guys, you know. I just take care of some things at the compound.”  She asked with a grown for the twentieth time that day.

“It´s obligatory. I want to do this as much as you do Miss.” Was his only answer, and you nearly ran into him, when he suddenly stopped just two hundred meters later.

The both of you had just turned around a corner, when (y/ec) eyes felt onto a dark wall of black storm clouds, resulting in a string of course words leaving your mouths.

“Is that a raincloud?Is that a MOTHERFUCKING raincloud?! I swear, I will kill Stark as soon as we get back- no better: I will change his coffee against something else and hide his alcohol- `Its nice weather. Don´t worry satellites say it won´t change in the next week or so. Just enjoy the view. ´- my ass!”

“You and me both. Hurry up, I can see a cave entrance in the distance that will provide shelter and grab dry wood or moss on the way -if possible- so we can make a fire.” The Soldier ordered and motioned towards a darker spot in the mountain.

And you did as told. You were able to grab a bit of dry moss and some small branches. But never did you slow your step, you didn’t want to get wet. But luck wasn´t on your side, and only ten meters away from the safety of the cave, rain poured down in a force, you were drenched to the bone when you reached your companion, who had reached the cave just in time.

Handing over your gatherings, you stepped pass him and put your backpack down.

The wet clothes stuck to your skin and the cold wind coming through the entrance made you shiver.

Nice, now I will get sick.

“I will see if I can get a fire going and maybe close the entrance a bit. In the meantime, get out of the wet clothes and get into something dry. I assume you packed a change?”

Not caring if the male would see you in your underwear, you quickly got rid of the wet clothes (You changed your panties after you had pulled the extra large shirt above your head), of course you had forgotten to pack a second bra, and not three minutes later you were all changed. Except for the pullover you had packed just in case (and he would get in handy now). But it had become wet through a little hole in the backpack and you would have to wait for it to get dry.

During the whole procedure, the soldier had his back turned towards you to give you privacy.

“Dry clothes are the best.” You said, indicating it was safe for him to turn around again.

Looking around, you noticed that the cave was only a few meters in diameter and a bit longer than wide, but the Sergeant was able to stand in it.

“I have some rope we can span, to hang your wet clothes near the fire to dry. I was able to close the entrance a bit, it will secure us from the cold winds a bit.”

In the short time you had used to change, Sgt Barnes had been able to get the fire starting and was now looking through his back for the radio they had just in case.

He´s right, the wind isn´t as strong at it once was. Hopefully the others are able to get us, or the storm passes fast.

The fire got stronger every second and soon she felt the cave to get warmer.

“Base, this is Barnes. (y/n) and I are stuck in a cave because of a storm outside. We will sit it out, but Stark: prepare for a not so nice greeting when we get back. ´ the weather will stay good for a few days´ ,my ass.” The man growled into the radio, informing the others on their problem.

“Yeah about that. The storm will last for at least three more days and we are on a surprise mission right now. So we can´t come and get you. I fear you have to wait that long. See it as some team- building exercise – and don´t do anything I wouldn´t do. “ Her boss answered with a laugh and the radio went silent again.

Somehow you had the feeling he did that on purpose.

“Tell me he´s kidding.” You groaned, but the angry look your companion sends you, it was clear he wasn´t.

“Give me your back, we have to sort our provisions and anything else we might be able to use.”

You did as told and scooted further to the fire, you draped your wet pullover over your knees, in the hope it gets dry quicker.

While you were still cursing your boss mentally, your companion had finished with sorting.

“We have some granola bars, some fruit from your bag and two packs of EPA. We should be able to sit this out.”

When he saw your confused look, he sighted.

“EPA is the German equivalent to the American MRE. They are emergency rations for soldiers. I brought them with me after our last mission in Germany. They taste different and a bit better than the MREs. I always have a pack with me, just in case.”

“Oh. I see.”

For the next minutes the two of you sat there in silence, staring into the fire.

It could only happen to you, stranded in a cave on top of a mountain with the only person on the compound that doesn´t seem to like you much. But he doesn´t treat you different to the others, so why does he call you ´Miss´ all the time? Well just one way to find out.

“Mr Barnes?”

“Yes, Miss (Y/N)?”

“Why do you always call me ´Miss`?”

“What do you mean?”

“Well, the others started to call me, just (y/n) or gave me nicknames quite fast. But you didn´t. Not that I complain I am just wondering.” You had gotten more and more silent with every word and you felt uneasiness start to rise, what if you crossed a line- you must stay here with him for some days.

“You are calling me Mr. and Sergeant the whole time. It´s just polite to do that as well. At least it was in the forties.” He answered, with uncertainty (?) in his voice.

Hold on.

“So you are calling me Miss the whole time because I call you Mr and Sergeant?” she let out a short laugh. “Well, I do that- because technically I am your employee, as well as the others, so it is my duty to address you like that. You understand? The others told me to call them by their first names or nicknames, so I told them to do that as well. But you never did, so I didn´t either. Wasn´t my decision.” You explained.

The look on your companion’s face was priceless, he looked like a fish out of the water for some seconds while he went through every conversation you ever had.

“That´s the only reason?”

“Yeah. What else could it be. Sure it was strange because I would probably count you to my list of friends, but like I said, wasn´t my place to just start calling you Bucky or something else.”

“Not even when you were talking to the others about me?”

“Nope. Always Sergeant or Mr. What can I do, I was raised that way.” You shrugged.

“Well then. Miss (y/n) you can call me Bucky if you want.”

“Then it is (y/n) or whatever nickname you find for me- But no promises I will listen to any nickname you give me.” You faked an introduction and laughed about the whole stupidity of the situation.

 You tried to suppress the forth yawn in under a minute, when Bucky cleared his throat.

“You should find some rest, I will watch the fire and for any wildlife that could find shelter in this cave.”

“I can´t. It´s cold, even with my pullover now dry. I won´t be able to fall asleep.” You mumbled.

“Why didn´t you tell me you are cold? Come here.” He motioned for you to sit next to him.

“I have a spare on my own, you can wear it as well. No arguments.” He handed you one of the big pullover he wore sometimes around the compound and sent you a look that said `put it on yourself I will do it for you.´.

“Thank you, Bucky.”

It nearly reached your knees.

“By the way. Why are you always wearing shirts and pullovers that are at least two sizes too big for you?” “Hydra always put me in this skin-tight outfits. Don´t get me wrong, in a battle it is easier to move in. But in my free time, I don´t want to be reminded about my past. And they are comfortable as hell.”

The last part was said with a grin.

“Good point. It is comfy.”

You sat right next to him and the warmth radiating from him spent you even more warmth and wasn´t it for the cold floor, you would have fallen asleep by this time.

“You are still cold. Come here.”

And without another thought he had seated you on his lab and laid his metal  arm securing you, without saying a word.

Immediately you fell asleep, ignoring the unusual seating arrangement.

  You were awoken, when the soldier shifted and tensed. Opening your eyes, your sight felt onto the 9mm pistol aimed at the cave entrance.

The grab of his metalarm got stronger, ready to throw you out of harms way.

But before you could get off his lap, so he would be able to fight, a figure stepped inside.

“Look what we have here. Shall we come back later?”

“Stark!” Both of you growled in union, resulting in the billionaire to laugh uncontrollably.

He was shut up by a hit on the back on his neck by Captain America. (who couldn´t supress a smile on his own).

“Ow. What. Yeah, sorry. Come on lovelies. Taxi is waiting.”

You a quickly grabbed your things and walked out of the cave. The quintjet was parked straight against the moment, so they wouldn’t get wet on their way. You `accidently´ ran into Ironman and got straight into a seat. Bucky did the same, though you were sure his bump hurt more.

When the aircraft was flying back to the compound a thought crossed your mind.

“Why are you here? Stark said you were on a mission. How can you be here than?”

“We weren’t. He told us this morning what was going on. So here we are.” Captain America explained with a glare.

“What. At least I got them to speak with each other. No one of you were able to do so.” The accused said.

“You did this on purpose?” Bucky growled.

“Yeah. It worked didn´t it. She is even wearing his pullover and was sitting on his lap when we arrived. Come on guys.”

“It wasn´t your business.”

“Oh come on.”

“I was drenched to the bone because of the damn storm.”

“Stop crying. What do you want to do about that now?”

A sinister smile creeped onto your lips.

“F.R.I.D.A.Y.! Start protocol ASSHOLE.”

“Don´t.” Stark tried to intervene, but failed. “I am sorry boss. But Miss Potts gave the order to follow the protocol should Miss (y/n) feel the need to start it. The alcohol is locked away and the monthly order of coffee-beans reserved for Mr. Stark was annihilated unto further notice. Only those on the list will be able to work the machines. I informed Miss Potts about the situation, and I quote: ´you had it coming, Tony.´ ”  

“You can´t do that. I am your boss. I demand to end this right now. Please” The last word was more of a whine than anything else.

“We warned you. Protocol ASSHOLE or I will get revenge for that stunt.” Bucky growled with his typical winter soldier glare, the metal plates of his prostetic moved to underline the threat.

“Your choice boss.” You grinned.

With the look of a kicked puppy on his face. Tony Stark took a seat, sulking.

He had just created a team he couldn’t win against. Not with Pepper Potts on your side.

  AN: I hope you like this Oneshot and I did the writing challenge and prompt justice.

Tell me what you think ^^

[imaginedilestrade]

One of the boys.

Summary: You live in the middle of London with four boys; Greg, Sherlock, John and Mycroft. It was never going to be easy, especially after falling for the silver haired DI...

Warnings: Maybe a few swears? That's about it.

A/N: PRAISE THE LORD! NO DOLORES IN THIS CHAPTER 🙌🏼😭😅 (Although she is mentioned, there's no getting away from her 😖) I hope you all have a fantastic week! ❤️

Missed the last part? Catch up here

——————————

Chapter 5

——————

When you finally emerged from the bathroom the house was quiet, a stillness had engulfed every room. Except in the living room, where Sherlock was pacing about.

You headed towards your room and dried yourself off, placing on a fresh set of clothes and putting your other ones into the washing machine that was downstairs in the complex you lived in. You shared the block with another neighbour, Mrs Hudson, who loved your company. You'd pop in a few times a week and have tea with her, she was a great respite from the boys.

When you arrived back in the flat you finally approached Sherlock-who was still pacing. "Hey..." you drawled out "Whatcha doing?" Your eyebrow raised slightly and Sherlock stopped walking, pressing his hands together and bringing his fingers to his lips.

"John is at work today so I was waiting for you."

Your eyes narrowed "Why?"

"Case." Sherlock simply replied and fetched his coat that was on a hook by the door. He grabbed yours and tossed it at you resulting in a growl escaping your throat as your coat hit your face.

You locked the door and followed Sherlock down the stairs, you found it a little difficult to keep up with his long legs. He hailed a cab and you both jumped in. The consulting detective then got a text and smirked to himself, you peered over and noticed it was a text from Greg wondering where he was.

"They must be really stumped..." you mused.

Sherlock let out an amused snort under his breath "What's new?"

You rolled your eyes and looked out of the window with a smile starting to develop on your face. The ride was fairly short and you had pretty much stepped out the taxi as stood as you stepped in. Sherlock rushed out the cab and you let out a huff "Yeah! Sure! I'll just pay!" You spoke to yourself and handed the cabbie a handful of money before chasing after Sherlock.

You wrapped your coat around you as a breezy and chilly gust of air whooshed passed you both.

Sherlock held up the police tape for you "Oh chivalry isn't dead," you forced a grin "And please tell me again why I'm out with you when I could be at home in my pyjamas watching 'A Cinderella Story'?"

"You can watch it when we get back," he uttered "And I know you secretly enjoy all this..." he smirked and you playfully rolled your eyes before you both found Greg. "What have we got, Lestrade?"

"Well-" Greg cut himself off and smiled when he saw you "Y/N! Hi! What are you going here?"

"Day off today," you grinned before Sherlock barged in between the both of you.

"Focus Lestrade, we all engage in enough chit chat at home..." he uttered and you and Greg sent each other an unimpressed glance "What have we got?"

"Take a look for yourself and see..." he led you both through and you saw Sherlock's eyes lit up and flicker from side to side as he started to make his deductions. He crouched by the body and pulled on a pair of white gloves and Greg did the same.

"Ohh Lestrade's slapping on the latex! This is getting serious!" You joked with a smile and Sherlock stifled a laugh, Greg sent you a deadpanned expression and your smile fell "Sorry..." you muttered.

Greg stood up and excused himself to take a phone call while you joined Sherlock, crouching over the dead man and seeing straight lines cut all the way down his back. "So, what does the great Sherlock Holmes make of this?"

"You think I'm great?" The corner of his lip twitched upwards.

"Answer my question..." you glared.

"Answer mine..."

You rolled your eyes "Sherlock, we aren't five years old." A moment of silence passed "Plus I asked you first."

He pondered for a moment, scanning his eyes over the body "Attacked by a bear perhaps?" You could hear the joking undertone in his quiet voice.

"Attacked by a bear? Really?" You played along "How many bears do you know?"

"Paddington."

"He wouldn't kill someone..." you uttered.

"He would if they were eating his marmalade sandwich."

You burst out laughing and quickly covered your mouth, earning a few strange looks from the officers around you "Stop it!" You playfully scolded Sherlock. "There's a dead man in front of us and you're making me laugh!"

"Have you got it yet?" Greg walked in and you and Sherlock both stood up.

"I'd send that pill he has in his mouth away for a toxicology report," Sherlock uttered and you went wide eyed having no idea he knew there was something in the dead mans mouth. "It's almost fully dissolved so hurry up...I'll tell you when I've solved it!"

Sherlock walked out and you turned to Greg who seemed a little flabbergasted "I'll see you later, it's chicken for dinner tonight."

"Uh yeah, that's good!" He snapped out of his surprised state.

Your phone dinged and you took it out, Greg nosily tried to see who it was "Mycroft," you muttered and Greg let out a throat full of air that he didn't know he was holding "He's just landed." You text him back before putting your phone away "Anyway, I shall see you tonight!" You sent a single wave in Greg's direction before joining Sherlock.

"We need to stop off at the shops before going home," you practically skipped to keep up with him.

"We?" He turned his head in your direction with a raised brow.

"Yes 'we'! There's no milk in the fridge despite me writing and underlining it on the whiteboard. We seem to be consuming milk like it's going out of fashion. Come on, we can grab the tube from here and just pop to the shops near the flat." Sherlock looked annoyed many the whole thing. You playfully nudged his side with your elbow "Cheer up, I know you want to smile because you've solved that murder caseee!" You sang and Sherlock's lips twitched upwards.

"How did you know it was a murder?" He asked as you made your way to catch the tube.

"I've been learning from the greatest," you winked and skilfully walked down the escalators to the platform. You stood arm to arm with Sherlock who almost towered over you.

"So you do think I'm great?" You glanced up and noticed the cocky smirk on his face.

"I think you're a great pain in my ass..." you playfully jibed "I also think it's great how insufferable you are. It's great how rude you are and how-"

"I get your point..." Sherlock muttered.

You looked up at him before resting your chin on his shoulder, having to stand on your tiptoes to do so "You know I'm kidding!" He cracked a smile and you knew it was a genuine one. The tube arrived and you extended his arm out for Sherlock to get into the carriage "Ladies first..." you sarcastically smirked.

He performed the same action with an equally sarcastic grin "Age before beauty..."

You gasped "You little shi-"

Sherlock cut you off and walked passed you "So I'll go first," you couldn't help but playfully roll your eyes before following him in.

---

You grabbed a basket and wandered through the shop, it sat in the crook of your arm only encouraging you to swing it about. You grabbed a pint of milk and placed it in the basket, raising your brows at the jar of honey being placed in the basket at the same time as you were placing the milk into it.

You looked up and saw Sherlock grinning at you "Can I get this?" He borderline pleaded.

You felt like his mother for a spilt second. "Put it in..." you sighed and he dropped it in with a bigger smile "You're obsessed with that stuff."

"Bees are incredible creatures and I love what they produce," Sherlock walked beside you as you placed various other things in the basket. "I'm assuming you're planning some sort of 'gathering' while Mycroft is away...?"

You dramatically gasped with a sinful smile "Me?! Never! I have never held a house party that Mycroft has never found out about. Ever."

Sherlock smirked "What time are Molly and Mary coming over at?"

"Half eight tomorrow..." you placed the items on the conveyer belt "Thank god Dolores isn't coming...or at least I hope she isn't!" You nervously laughed. Sherlock studied you intently as you bagged everything up, payed the cashier and then told him to get a move on.

It was getting dark due to the rainclouds that had taken over the sky above, thankfully the pair of you would probably make it back just in time before it poured.

"It's okay not to like someone..." Sherlock spoke up and you turned to him with a raising brow.

"Are you trying to say that after living with each other for almost five years that you hate me?" Sherlock smirked at your playful tone "Because I was so sure we were going to get married someday...." you sarcastically added.

Sherlock stopped outside the flat and you faced him "All I'm trying to say is that you don't have to worry about a certain woman who was sick on your jeans this morning."

"I don't worry," you tried to reassure him just as the rain started "It's not up to me who Greg dates, Sherlock. Please just drop this," you sighed and Sherlock noticed a wet stream on your cheek "I don't want to talk about it anymore."

The consulting detective didn't know if it was a raindrop or a tear.

---

"We should have a game night!" John announced "Monopoly?"

"It always gets messy when we play that," you warned from the top of the table "Plus Greg isn't back from work yet, unless we just play it between the three of us?"

"If it's the three of us there's less chance of an argument," Sherlock stood up and cleared away the plates. "Are you leaving this piece of chicken in the oven for Lestrade?" He hollered from the kitchen.

"Yeah!" You shouted back before looking at John "Monopoly it is then."

The doctor clapped his hands together "Great! I'll set it up. What could possibly go wrong with a nice game of Monopoly?"

——————————

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[onwesterlywinds]

A Kingdom Worthy of You

Subdued by the vera tonic and what remained of the Garlean sedative, Ashe dreamed of Ludo Swiftwind.

They had met on a bright and sunny morning, the first morning all week that hadn't been obscured by La Noscean rainclouds. The boardwalks and planks all across the Aftcastle still held little puddles that soaked through her thin leather sandals, but even the locals were commenting on it being a "mild" day - their term for whenever the city reeked of fish less than normal.

She stood high up in Maelstrom Command with a full stomach for the occasion of her business, face to face with an officer whose voice filled her with a fury and frustration she couldn't rightly explain - only that he was condescending to her.

"This is ridiculous." The worst of their quarrel had reached its end, but other visitors to the office had long since halted their own business. Heads that had turned to stare would not turn away; mouths whispered in a multitude of languages about the scene unfolding before them.

And it truly was a scene, as she had been the disruptor. Worst of all, she had cast herself as the angry Ala Mhigan woman.

"As I've said, Miss Riot," said the Midlander man behind the counter. "Maelstrom regulations require a minimum of three members at the time of a free company's founding. This is to avoid a-"

"'Misallocation of resources,' yes. You made that part clear thrice over, and-"

A hand touched her shoulder. Before she could whirl around to take a swing at whoever it was who so dared to touch her, a clear and confident voice spoke out. "It's alright."

The speaker was a tall man, much taller than her, though he had neither the musculature of a Roegadyn nor the grace of an Elezen. At first she took measure of his pale skin and wondered if he might be Garlean, but she saw no third eye and supposed she hadn't ever seen a Garlean with such pleasant features: he had long chestnut-colored hair tied back into a ponytail, soft brownish-green eyes, and a delicate mouth quirked into an appeasing smile.

"I'd be happy to discuss other options with my friend here," he reassured the Maelstrom officer. "Thank you most kindly for your assistance. We'll contact you again if the need should strike us."

He turned on his heel and departed. Ashelia, in her confusion - this stranger had called her his friend - could only follow him back to the Drowning Wench.

"So you're trying to found a free company," he eventually said to her. He tore with his fingers into one of the freshly baked bread rolls he'd ordered from the bar, then reached for a knife with elegant ease to slather on copious amounts of butter and jam. "What a coincidence. So am I."

Ashelia could only scoff, roll her eyes, and cross her arms over her chest. She did not touch the plate of food before her and would not do so until she was confident her new "friend" would cover the entire tab as promised. "What a coincidence," she echoed.

He bit into half of his butter-jam mixture, washed it down with a swig of ale, and grew somber. "I overheard what you were telling the officer."

So did half the Aftcastle, she thought.

"You're looking to reestablish... an entire arm of the Ala Mhigan military?"

She shook her head. "Just a free company." For now. "But I would name it after the rank my father held."

The man nodded. "And what was the name of his order?"

"The Dangerous Criminal Task Force. Known best as the Riskbreakers."

"Right, right." He broke into a grin, revealing perfect white teeth. "I'd like to join you, if you'll have me. And if you do agree to take me on, I will guarantee that we'll get these Riskbreakers of yours all the way to East End without taking a single gil of Grand Company resources."

It sounded like a dream come true, which was precisely why she couldn't trust it. Scowling, she leaned back in her seat to survey him further. "You're no Ala Mhigan."

"Gods above, no."

"Then why do you give half a shite?"

"Because I've been there. Many years ago, now, but I'll never forget it."

"What color were the ramparts?" she retorted.

"I'm sorry?"

"The ramparts about the capital. What color were they."

"A sort of... rose-tan in the sunlight, provided the Garleans haven't knocked them down in my absence."

Gundobald had warned her in the past that others would lie about even the most basic facts in order to win over her sympathies. This man, at least, had been to Ala Mhigo - and he spoke of Garlemald with as much bitterness as any one of her kin.

"You'll have full command over your forces," he promised. "I'm not asking for leadership, nor am I seeking to... insert any agendas of my own into your plans. I want only to take part - to strike out against the Empire alongside someone who actually cares." He leaned in, lowering his voice to a more urgent whisper. "I have just under a hundred thousand gil - gil I've saved for the purpose of investing in a paramilitary organization capable of taking on the Empire. It isn't much, but it'll be enough to sponsor a full party for the equipment, weapons, and tech to get started."

"Your name?"

"Ludo Swiftwind. Yours?"

"Riot."

"That's all?"

"Ashelia Riot."

"A lovely name. And what say you to my proposal, Ashelia Riot?"

A hundred thousand gil was a bigger sum than she could wrap her head around, and that fact above all else gave her pause.

But she was not seeking to put a price tag on her father's legacy, nor was she selling out her lifelong dreams. She was forging an alliance - one that could easily be broken at a moment's notice. If this was what it took to get her to Baelsar's Wall...

"I'm in."

Ludo's eyes widened. For a moment, he looked as stunned as though she had announced her intention to marry him. Then his face broke out into a grin, almost childlike in its enthusiasm, and he burst into delighted laughter. "Alright," he said. "So when do we start breaking risks?"

"Ashe. How old were you?"

They tramped back together to the crypt's entrance, he with his tomes and she with her axe, at the end of their first successful venture. Ludo's words cut through the stillness of the Deepcroft, through the lingering tension that had gathered in the wake of the piscodaemon's demise.

"I told you not to call me that. What are you asking?"

"When Ala Mhigo fell. You must have been young."

It was a question no one had ever sought to ask her before; everyone else in the refugee camps had simply known the answer. "I had scarcely turned five," she replied. "And you? You've never told me where you're from."

"Coerthas." He kicked at a pebble in their path and watched it skitter over the edge, down into oblivion. "Western highlands. A village called Riversmeet, to be precise. A beautiful place, before the Calamity."

"I've never met anyone else from Coerthas before. I hear they're supposed to be pricks."

"They say much the same about Ala Mhigans," said Ludo. He cast a smirk over his shoulder and ignored her responding glare. "Well, assuming we go about establishing your company the right way, you won't ever have to find ou-"

He stopped dead mid-stride, and so did she. From somewhere close behind them came the same scrape of shifting pebbles - the sound of a misplaced footstep.

"Did you hear that," he breathed.

She shushed him and drew her axe up over her head in preparation for a one-handed throw. The torches all about the path seemed to flicker far more violently, though she could just as well have not been paying them enough attention before their pause. A consistent plink of water echoed around them from some distant source; the remainder of the tunnel sat still and silent, with nothing else at all to indicate that they were not alone in the tunnel.

And then, out of the corner of her eye, a figure clad in white robes rounded behind a corner.

Ashelia whirled to face it. Something was barreling down the tunnel toward them - something that looked like a giant Hyuran face.

She swung her axe with every last bit of strength she could muster, and she must have made some sort of contact in spite of her glancing blow because the creature let out a piercing screech into her ear.

"RUN!" she shouted, and Ludo complied. Together they sped through the ancient halls, past the crypt-lined walls and the Wood Wailers stationed at the Deepcroft's entrance, sprinting onward until they emerged out under the cover of the forest canopy in what little remained of the daylight sun. Ashelia practically tripped headlong into Ludo once he stopped to catch his breath against the trunk of a giant tree.

"There was definitely someone there!" she fumed. "Someone small and slim, and..." At a loss for any other way to express her shock, she whirled back around toward the moss-covered ruins and screamed, "FUCKING MIDLANDERS!"

Ludo was practically wheezing with the effort to draw breath. Tears streamed from his eyes as he sank down to the forest floor. He was, in spite of their shock, laughing.

And soon enough, so was she.

"Which of the Twelve should I thank," Ludo said when she returned to their inn room with clean hands, "for finding a partner in favor of showing no quarter to imperials?"

He sat propped against a pillow, poring over a thick, leather-bound notebook and doubtless chronicling the day's many events. Every muscle in her body ached; questioning the hoplomachus had taken more out of her than she had expected. She made to sit down on the bed beside him but thought better of it when she spied his inkwell perched precariously amid the bedsheets. "Nymeia, most likely. Patroness of the Ala Mhigan monarchy. But never mind that." She slapped down the stack of papers in her hand. "Will these mean anything to you?"

Ludo’s jaw dropped. "Shite," he swore, and then said something in a language she didn’t recognize but supposed had to be Ishgardian. Still, he cast a hasty glance up at her as his long fingers flipped one by one through the pages. Some were supplemented with diagrams of magitek devices or graphs with numbers so big they could only denote sums of currency. "Well, Grand Steward. It seems you’ve found a Garlean weapons repository."

"What?"

"There’s a secret weapons cache out by Bloodshore. And this document is a list of everything it contains. Prototype bombs, signal jammers..." There was no mistaking the shock etched in every line of his face. "Incredible. If we leverage this the right way... we could have the XIVth in the palms of our hands."

The room was dark all around her, quiet except for her own fevered breathing. Once again, she had awoken in such a panic that she could scarcely recall who she was, let alone where; the lingering memories of her dream still held her captive, filling her with shame at the very idea that she could ever, even subconsciously, serve the Empire as a willing soldier.

"Are you alright, Ashe?"

Ludo was sitting up in bed on the other side of the room but made no effort to turn on the light.

"Where is this?" she breathed.

"The Whistler, the inn out by the Grey Fleet. It's a few hours until dawn."

"What's happened? What did I-"

"You were reciting entire Garlean protocols," he said. "You're certain you didn't read through those documents we found?"

"I told you. I can't read."

"Alright, then." He laid himself back down and pulled his own set of blankets back up to his chin. "Must've been a hell of a dream."

The Goblet was a bastard to navigate, she had decided at least half a bell ago, but Ludo had deemed it very important that she meet him at a particular set of coordinates and hadn't been able to shut up about it since early that morning.

"I'm here," she said into her linkpearl, then realized she wasn't entirely certain she was; she checked her map yet again, then glanced up at the massive building in front of her. Sure enough, she was at the precise spot he had indicated: a house in the neighborhood's third ward.

"Mansion" might have been a better word for it. The building towered over all of the other houses she'd passed by, only in part because it was situated on its own little hill along a more solitary street.

"Took you long enough!" came Ludo's reply. There was a stroke of mischief amid his sarcasm that she neither liked nor trusted. "Right, then. Next step: go inside the house."

"Ludo, I don't have time to get arrested today. I have to meet with Curious Gorge before noon."

"Just trust me."

A strange tingle ran up her spine as she took her first steps across the lawn. She gave the front door a tentative push, and it creaked open at her touch to reveal a wondrous grand hall. The place was empty, save for its stone masonry, dark wooden paneling, and a massive brass chandelier hanging from the ceiling - and for Ludo, who sat off to one side of the staircase directly before her. He leapt to his feet, his arms stretched out wide.

"Welcome home."

"What..."

She had to forcibly cover her own mouth to keep every thought that sprang to her head from babbling out; Ludo's own grin was now well past the point of concealment. She stared up and around at the mansion, taking in its every immaculate detail for the first time, and the word kept echoing through her head: home.

"What do you think?"

Ala Mhigo was home and always would be, but this was a more beautiful house than any she had seen - and only three moons ago, she had been living out of her bedroll.

"How did you even manage-"

"I have my ways."

"Don't give me that. You didn't get this with only eighty-seven thousand gil."

He stepped forward and took hold of her hands. The gesture took her by surprise at first and she very nearly drew back, but the warmth and sincerity in his eyes gave her pause. "No, I didn't," he said. "And it was still worth it."

Nothing he said was serving to dispel her suspicions. "We agreed not to speak of the cache to anyone. You didn’t sell the weapons, or-"

"I wouldn’t have dared." He gestured over toward one side of the unfurnished manse, to where sunlight streamed in unfettered from the east. "Might I suggest over there for the location of that bar you spoke of having?"

It was an unskilled deflection, but she chose nonetheless to take it in stride. "Only if I can name it the Sandsea."

He wrinkled his nose. "Sounds much too similar to the Quicksand. Wouldn't want to attract that clientele, would we?" Before she could protest, he removed from the inside of his robes a full jug of spiced rum. "One more surprise: something to get us started. Though I don't have any glasses, I'm afraid."

She shrugged. "Means we'll have to break it in the Ala Mhigan way." Before he could so much as raise an eyebrow, she demonstrated her intentions by plucking the drink from his hands, uncorking it between her teeth with a dramatic twist of her head, and taking a long draught as he looked on in amazement. "To the Riskbreakers," she concluded once she’d had her fill, and held the bottle aloft.

Ludo held his own imaginary glass toward the chandelier. "To the Riskbreakers. And to the Sandsea."

The rain hammered itself into sheets that afternoon and extinguished every hope they'd had left for the comfort of a warm fire after their miserably long day. She stomped through the tropical underbrush with sodden boots, trying not focus more on anti-imperial endeavors and less on how much havoc her new puppy was surely wreaking in her absence, and it barely struck her that she must have strayed too far ahead for Ludo to keep up with her driven pace.

But then the rain abated around her for only a moment, and a broad sheet of green dipped forward across her line of sight. Ludo had torn a leaf from the giant trees all around them and was wafting it above them as a barely effectual umbrella.

"Come on," he said. "Let's find somewhere to rest. And then you can tell me why you looked like you were about to go into a rage when I recognized that man in Wineport."

This was a habit of his that she hated: using a reasonable request as a preface to something else he wanted. She repressed a growl but ducked out from under his giant leaf to find a more sturdy source of shelter: the nearest low-hanging palm tree. "It was exactly what my mother does," she replied at length, once he had stretched out his legs beside her. "Picking someone out from a crowd, then digging up their life story."

"He had connections we could leverage-"

"'Connections'?" She let out a single peal of mirthless, sarcastic laughter, and even that reminded her of Tia. "Fuck connections! We're scarcely a stone's throw away from Castrum Occidens of all places, and we're nowhere closer to tearing it down than we are Baelsar’s Wall! We could be best friends with the Admiral and that wouldn’t change!"

Ludo said nothing for a long time. "My mother was the same way as yours," he said at last, so quietly that she could scarcely hear him over the tumultuous rain. It was the first he'd ever mentioned his family to her, but the topic made his brow furrow into a deep frown. He murmured something else that she could not hear over the rain, then loosed a low growl. "I hate this," he conceded. "Being so close to where we need to be."

"And yet so far." She smoothed back some of the hair that the rain had plastered to her face and attempted to wring it free of moisture.

"It isn't only the castrum." He leaned his head back against the trunk of the tree. "There's a rumor going around the network of hunt informants that there’s something else inside Occidens: an entrance to Bahamut's Coil, of all places. That would change everything in our favor, Ashe! Everything!" His fist clenched against the sodden earth. "Do you know how many times I've thought of venturing down there? More than I can count on one hand, certainly. Not so much for the money or the glory, but for answers. I've longed for them ever since the Calamity - for myself, and for everyone who suffered and lost that day. But I couldn't-" He stopped speaking as abruptly as if someone had punched him in the gut; recognition dawned over his face, and when next he beheld her, his eyes were full of a newfound resolution. "That’s been the only thing holding me back. I can’t abandon you. I won’t. Not... Not with all of Ala Mhigo at stake."

He was soaked through to the skin, as was she, but his eyes burned with an intent that left her stunned-

Fuck.

In a single, breathless moment, she leaned forward to close the indiscriminate distance that had existed between them for so long. She pressed her lips to his and his gasp turned into a low moan from somewhere deep in his chest. She had almost been expecting him to break away and offer some excuse; instead, he reached up with both hands to hold her face with a tenderness that prompted her to open her mouth ever further and taste on his tongue the flights he'd sampled in Wineport only bells before - to take her measure of every part of him and trust that she would not find him wanting.

Though their makeshift shelter had begun to take on water, she no longer cared. It was still a veritable paradise for one who had grown up in the desert.

"You must be Ashelia!" the Miqo'te airship attendant exclaimed.

Ashe was so winded from having sprinted all the way from the Hawthorne Hut to the Carline Canopy that she could scarcely understand a word the woman was saying; what was more, she'd been awake the entire night at Oriens testing the Garlean transmissions blockers and some of the other gear from the weapons cache.

"It's okay. Your boyfriend's asked us to hold the flight. He's already waiting for you on board!"

Sure enough, Ludo sat on one of the wooden benches directly beneath the airship's awning, scribbling away in his leather-bound notebook with one hand and absently scratching below his collar with the other.

"He's not my boyfriend," Ashe snapped.

"Oh!" The attendant bit at one side of her lower lip with a lengthy incisor. "I'm sorry, I-"

Ludo glanced up from his writings and his eyes flooded with the warmth of recognition as their gazes met; smiling, he beckoned for her to board with the hand still holding his quill. Ashe lowered her axe from its holster across her shoulders and strode past the attendant to give him a full report of her mission. "We're partners."

"I was born," he said, reaching up with shaking hands to undo the buttons at his collar, "Osamu bas Maevius." With a single tug, he pulled his silken cravat free; it floated to his bedroom carpet like a feather on a light wind. "And I'm not fully Hyuran. My mother was Auri - of a Far Eastern people with... horns and tails. I have neither. I take much more after my father, who was as Garlean as they come." He shrugged off his coat, tossed it to the floor, and started on the fastenings of his tunic. "I hardly ever saw him. I spent most of my childhood in a little white room with only my mother and books to keep me company, and I was always expected to be the good little soldier boy, for the both of them. There was hells to pay if I wasn't." She had met plenty of bastards throughout her youth, among them some who resembled Garleans too closely for the comfort of others. Ludo's shirtless frame bore the telltale musculature of a Garlean man, yes, but he was lithe and poised as she had always known him to be, endowed with a wholly different sort of power.

"But I am Coerthan by choice," he said firmly, staring at her as if she wished to challenge the assertion. "I left Ilsabard when I was fifteen, when it was made clear that I was to serve under van Baelsar in Ala Mhigo. I've never looked back once. I found a caravan of traders and they brought me to Riversmeet. I was there when I made my name; I was there when the moon fell."

"I..." She was nearly lost for words, but so too did her heart pound with unspoken relief.

"Gods, Ashe. What did you think I was hiding?"

"I thought you were going to tell me you're a virgin."

He was still nervous, even after revealing all that he felt he needed to - she could see it in the stiffness of his shoulders, in the way he held himself - but he let out a little chuckle all the same. "I'll let you decide that for yourself," he offered, holding out the ties to loosen his breeches.

She stepped forward and, with a desperation born of relentless need, had them undone in seconds. She slid a single hand down the front of his trousers and smirked when he drew in a gasp at her touch. "Would that have been better or worse than being half-Garlean?" he prompted.

"Worse. Much worse." She could not resist going to her tiptoes to press a kiss to where the faintest hint of stubble grew along his jaw, but then she sank to her knees and watched his eyes widen. "But still manageable."

"An elite mark's taken someone out by the Silver Bazaar, and a Garlean patrol's been creeping closer to Vesper Bay. I'll take the former, you the latter?"

She holstered her axe with a nod in his direction. "I'll see you tonight."

"Wait, Ashe." Before she could make for the door, he took hold of her arm, halting her progress with a gentle squeeze. She huffed and tried to disentangle herself from him but stopped when she noted the desperate stare in his eyes. "Please. Be careful."

She loved to watch Ludo read. He sat halfway propped up in bed, his glasses perched on his nose and a newspaper spread out against his knees, and his lips moved ever so slightly to shape the words his eyes captured as they darted back and forth across each page. Neither of them had bothered to dress since the previous night; their bedcovers pooled down around their waists to reveal bodies toned but battered from their near-constant adventuring.

On such relatively quiet mornings, Ludo was not so quick to tie his hair back into his customary low ponytail. A small patch of rose-colored scales lay uncovered below his jaw, no more than five or six in number but enough to captivate her attention.

Ashe tucked a long strand of his brown hair behind his ear and leaned in to press a kiss to the side of his mouth nearest to her. He averted his attentions at once from his reading. His eyes closed tight to the letters on the page and turned to properly greet her, that he might reciprocate with a kiss of his own. She had come to crave these moments of gentleness: the soft press of his mouth, the heat of his bare skin ignited a slow ache in some deep part of her being. She trailed a hand up across his chest and crossed one of her legs over his own - not to tempt or rile him, as she would have with all the other lovers she'd known in the desert, but to truly savor every sensation and touch they shared between them.

It dawned on her then that she had never before wanted so badly for something to last forever.

"Please have a cocktail; there's this entire pitcher to finish and it's just the two of us."

"No, I-I'm really okay."

As a compromise, she shoved the half-finished plate of bacon breads over to the opposite end of the booth and refilled her own glass. "It was... A'zalea?"

"A'zaela," the woman corrected gently, and took a bacon bread to nibble at.

"Ah. Apologies." She took a sip of her drink and sighed. The estate had not seen very many guests that day for their - and Ashe could not believe she had let such a useless pair of words escape her - first annual Moonfire Faire celebration. Yet the absence of what few visitors she'd attracted rang anew, now that there was only her and A'zaela and their new shared memories of laughter and indulgence with people who were no longer strangers. "My thanks to you for coming out."

A'zaela had told her more than once that she hadn't known there was to be a party that day, but she smiled all the same. "It’s good to be here. Truly."

"And I'll see about waiving the paperwork requirement for your application to the company."

"Oh no, th-that won't be necessary."

"Nonsense. You've already told me you grew up in the Sagolii, and that’s all the proof I need of your talent." She couldn’t resist raising her bright orange drink in a clumsy sort of salute, but she still had enough of her wits left in her not to tell A’zaela that she was the only Seeker she'd ever been able to tolerate for so long. "So how did you say you knew Ludo?"

"I don't exactly know him. I accidentally bumped into him as I was leaving the Goldsmiths' Guild yesterday. He mentioned the Riskbreakers and told me to come here if I was interested in joining a free company."

Ashe frowned. "Yesterday?"

"Y-Yes." A'zaela narrowed her eyes in thought. "Well, two days ago, now that it's past midnight."

Ludo had told her only that he'd be going back to Gridania to meet with an officer of the Wailers about a notable hunt.

"Where is he?" A'zaela asked. "I'm surprised he isn't here."

"He's... been out attending to some business for a few days." She hesitated. "Between you and me... he told me not to throw a party tonight."

"Why not?"

"Unnecessary expenditures, to use his words. He didn't think anyone would come."

One of A'zaela's ears twitched as she wrinkled her nose, but she said nothing.

"Now I can tell him he was wrong." She grabbed hold of the pitcher once again and topped off her glass. "And on my birthday of all days."

"Your-" A'zaela blinked. "But it's my birthday as well! I'm turning twenty-five!"

Ashe very nearly dropped the pitcher at that, spilling a bright orange puddle of whiskey and bitters all across the tablecloth. She stared agape at it for a long moment, utterly astonished at herself, and then A'zaela began to giggle a little nervously.

"I suppose this truly was meant to be." At a loss for what else to do, she bundled up the sodden tablecloth and unceremoniously tossed it into a corner of the bar. "Welcome to the Riskbreakers, A'zaela Linh."

She had dragged herself into the habit of bringing in the day’s mail and sorting through it whenever she took Argath out for his morning business, having long since resigned herself to the fact that the majority of it was Ludo's anyway. There was less and less mail coming at all nowadays, ever since he took up his meetings within Ul'dah proper. She could not say she cared one way or the other for the stacks of envelopes, but some part of her did sting with the unspoken injustice of her own lack of an invitation.

For that exclusion, Ludo had excuses aplenty: she was too inexperienced for such negotiations, too busy in her weekly schedule or else too tired from training. Though she never heard Ludo suggest it even once, she could only suppose her temper had something to do with it.

After finding only two items in the mailbox that morning, both of them for Ludo, she whistled twice for Argath and he came barreling back in through the open door; from there, she ducked back into their shared quarters and approached the desk to deliver them to their designated spot.

A page bearing her name in his handwriting caught her eye. It was the only word she could recognize at a glance, in his hand or in any other, though her reading had improved greatly since he'd begun teaching her during their shared evenings off.

Each word she read was like another punch to her gut.

"The Syndicate, Ludo?!"

"I've told you, I'm settling it, alright? It's being taken care of as we-"

She slammed her palms down onto the gazebo's little stone railing. Even after she had dragged him out to the waterfall to ensure they wouldn't be overheard within the house, some part of her still ached at being so visible – so vulnerable.

Her pain, her betrayal laid out for the world to see.

"You funded our house with Syndicate gil - and you didn't tell me because you knew I would disapprove!"

"Ashe, please-"

"Don't deny it! How much have they stolen from Ala Mhigans - from my people! They've taken our labor and our bodies and every other thing we have left for a pittance! Do you even care? Do you even give a fuck that I now owe all I have to the same monsters that sat and watched me starve?!"

"Of course I care," he said. "I should never have done it, or kept it a secret for so long. I knew it was wrong, especially for you."

"For me, but not for my company."

But Ludo shook his head. "I made certain that neither you nor the Riskbreakers were mentioned in any of the contracts I signed," he insisted. "So that if anything should happen to me... you wouldn't be held liable for my debts."

Held liable. Those two words, more than anything else he might have said, evoked the utter finality of what he had done. "And that's why we can't get married."

"Yes," he whispered.

She had not cried. She had sworn to herself that she would not cry, no matter what she learned. She was much too strong for such a sentimental display, after all, and had the company to think of. The company, and the hopes of all Ala Mhigo riding on it.

She was so, so tired of being strong.

He stepped forward and drew her into him. She could not stop shivering, whether from her grief or from the cold spray blown from the falls on the night wind. "I'll fix this," he said, running a hand along her back. "I've journeyed deep into the Carteneau Flats. I've found more Allagan ruins in an area no one else can reach. I'll go in there, find whatever I can-"

"Shut up," she sobbed into his coat.

He complied but did not slacken his grip, swaying her ever so slightly into what should have been a soothing rhythm. Only at long last, when the night had darkened around them both, did he ask her, "Do you want me to go?"

Though there could only be a single answer, she could not bring herself to say it.

"Just..." He parted her hair with his fingers and laid a kiss on her forehead. "You’re wrong about one thing only." She heaved a deep, shuddering, tear-ridden breath but could not bring herself to respond. "You’re the one who’s brought yourself this far. The Syndicate had nothing to do with it. And... and neither did I."

"His name is Ludo Swiftwind," she told her mother. Her eyes stung, though only from the heavy somnus smoke filtering through the thin evening air within the mesa. "And I mean to marry him."

Tia let out a quiet, derisive snort and said not another word for the remainder of the evening.

She awoke out of a solid sleep in the dead of night to find someone tall and thin standing over the bed.

"Ludo?" she whispered, once her racing pulse had calmed enough for her to speak. "What are you doing?"

It had been days since she'd seen him last; since a vigorous tumble didn't count as conversation, it had been longer still since they'd spoken.

He made no response, nor did he offer any other acknowledgement of her presence. He remained deathly still in the darkened room, so still that she was halfway toward accusing him of having come home drunk when she caught a glimpse of his eyes. They were honed in on her with an almost unnatural focus.

"Come to bed, Ludo," she pleaded. Those words triggered something in him: he took another step closer and she began to unbutton his shirt and trousers as he watched. Each of her enticements went unheeded, even as she helped lay him down and brushed her thumb along the opalescent scales at his neck, his spine, his hips. It was as though he were suddenly immune to her touches, and she could not help but direct her shame at herself for the sheer inadequacy of her efforts.

She whispered a goodnight and expected no response.

But Ludo did not fall asleep. She could hear him breathing, curled up against him as she was. Each time she rolled over fitfully to steal another glance at him, he lay on his back with his eyes wide open, staring up at the ceiling.

When she arose the next morning and went into the kitchen to find him holding out a steaming mug of coffee for her, she saw the very exhaustion she felt mirrored on his face.

"What was that all about last night?" she asked.

He blinked - a visible tell of hesitation - then shrugged.

She knew then that he had no memory at all of coming home.

"I don't mean to pry, Ashelia," A'zaela began. The young Miqo'te had the good sense and decency to first glance about the bar to ensure that her incoming question would remain truly private. "But... I have to ask. Is Ludo... feeling alright?"

Her heart, which had ached all day as though it were being clenched by a vise, began to pound anew. "Why do you ask?"

But A'zaela's eyes were full of concern, without so much as a hint of the curiosity Ashe had been expecting. "I-I don't know," she stammered. "I haven't seen much of him at all, really - even since I moved in. But he hasn't... seemed himself."

"He's been spending more time in the field," she explained. "I imagine once things settle down some, he’ll be able to catch up on his sleep. We both will."

A stack of letters had accumulated on Ludo's desk over the course of the past ten days, but he was still out in Mor Dhona or Carteneau or some other corner of the realm; he had not come by to collect them. With Argath barking at her heels for yet another round of fetch and only minutes until she was due to attend the last of her warrior training, she brought the day's mail into the office, where she promptly threw each unopened envelope into the fireplace.

"Don't do this to me, Ludo."

"What am I doing to you, Ashe? Why don't you tell me?" When she could summon no reply, he pressed on. "You told me before that you didn't want me to leave. Which is it?"

"It doesn’t matter now, does it?! You might as well have left, given all you’ve been away!"

"And I thought you of all people would understand. I'm away because I'm out getting you what you need."

"Oh?" she drawled. "Enlighten me. Like you always do."

"Power, Ashe." He stepped forward. "Isn't that the reason we've come so far? Hasn’t that been the point of all of this from the first? To find the means to tear down the Empire, no matter the cost. To tear down the Syndicate. To be free of them all."

Though no small part of her screamed to agree, she shook her head. "No," she whispered. "That's not it. That's not why-"

"Tell me what you have instead, then, from all your time spent sitting at home-"

"Oh, fuck you!"

"-or swinging that ridiculous axe on the beach. What do you have, Ashe? What have you done that makes you think you have even the slightest chance of standing up against the Empire?"

She had a box of forgotten imperial toys, a set of warrior’s furs, and a half-empty mansion she hated to be alone in - and she had done nothing so far.

"Ashe." Her heart ached at that whisper - the same tone he would use to wake her up from a long and troubled dream. He reached out to rest his hands on her shoulders, just as he had done so many times before, but he pulled their bodies together with such fervency that she nearly stumbled over her own feet. "You're naïve."

"Ludo, stop it-"

His hands raised up to both sides of her jaw, as if he meant to caress her face; then he seized her there with such force that her breath caught in her throat.

Somehow, she had never truly gathered just how tall he was.

She dug her nails deep into his wrists, into the tendons of his arms, into every one of the pressure points she'd learned by necessity from a young age. She kicked over and over at his shins and tried to angle her movements enough to knee him in the groin. None of it did her any good. She could not break his unnatural grip and despised herself for it. She had left her axe in their office and hadn't kept knives on her person since leaving the desert, and neither of those options would have availed her if he had her so firmly where he wanted her.

With his hands clasped along either side of her face, his thumbs digging hard into her cheekbones, he leaned in ever so slowly and pressed his lips to her forehead. She could only stand and tremble and endure the contact as each second passed as its own eternity. When at last it ended and he pulled himself away, he leered down at her with a hunger in his hazel eyes that she would never forget.

"I will come back to you." The words were as much a threat as they were a promise. "And I'll show you then what power looks like."

"L-Let me go."

She had no way of knowing if he would listen. The moment his hands came free of her skin, something deep within her snapped. She dealt him a single shove that broke the last thread of their physical contact.

"DON'T EVER TOUCH ME AGAIN!" Only after the words left her did she realize she'd screamed in her native language; she grappled with herself for only a moment before switching to the common tongue. "GET OUT!"

"Ashe-"

"OUT!"

She walked over to the door and threw it open. Ludo followed her steps and she, no longer certain that he would not try once more to take hold of her, pushed him again with all her might through the open doorway. The moment Ludo staggered over the threshold, she slammed the solid oak door shut and slid each of the three heavy bolts home.

All was silent for several long and breathless seconds. She had expected him to pound on the door, to scream at her and demand reentry; instead, she heard only a single muffled thud from well below the knocker.

And then there came another sound: low and even and steady but chilling beyond words.

Ludo was laughing.

Her thoughts tore her in myriad directions as she stood, still as a corpse, before the door. She did not know whether to trust in the manse's locks when all else at that moment seemed beyond trust. The bar spun all around her; her breaths came in short, shallow gasps. She willed herself to go and finally fetch her axe or barricade herself in their chambers or do something, anything to keep from gawping in front of the door where her partner sat laughing like a thing gone mad, but her heart and her thoughts alike were racing too fast to lead her to any sense. Perhaps she would have been able to snap out of it if she were any less of a selfish, stupid little girl.

She did not even know how long she stood there or who might have seen her. When at last she returned to her senses, the laughter from outside was gone and she was sitting in her pajamas on the bar’s hardwood floor, shivering as though she'd been left out in the rain.

"How did you hear about me?" the Roegadyn asked. It was only a bit too early in the day for drinks, but her guest had accepted a small mug of sweetened black tea and had been kind enough to overlook the layer of dust gathering everywhere in the den when Ashe had recommended taking up seats at the bar.

"The advertisement in the Mythril Eye," Ashe conceded as she fought back a sudden yawn. It struck her how similar this was to doing interviews for new recruits, and that somehow made the entire situation feel all the more absurd. A door banged open from somewhere behind them and Ashe gave a start, but a hasty glance over her shoulder revealed only Argath, who had come barreling from her office with a subligar he'd taken to using as a chew toy. The woman let out a low chuckle as her eyes followed him, and all the while, Ashe took several long breaths in an effort to steady her racing pulse.

"As for money..." The woman leaned forward on her bar stool a little conspiratorially. "Generally I charge five thousand gil a night. Generally. But my satisfaction rating and prior references speak for themselves - and even then, I'd be more than willing to halve that fee for you."

"You don't need to- I have money, I-"

"I insist. Besides, money isn't really the reason I entered this profession." She lowered her voice. "I want to use my gifts to keep people safe. You're a strong woman, Ashelia - and you are fearful in your own home. That is unacceptable."

Of all the fights she had to lose, it might as well be this one. "...Remind me of your name, if you would."

"Sylvan Rain."

"Thank you. Sylvan. I'm afraid I've been a little... tired of late."

"Naturally. But please, rest easy. If this former partner of yours so much as steps into the garden, on my word, he’ll have me to deal with." She cracked her knuckles and stood, stretching her arms out high above her head. "And I certainly wouldn't be opposed to joining you in your other operations, either. Assuming my guess that you’re running an anti-Garlean task force out of the back of this bar is correct."

"There’s not..." She cleared her throat and started again. Trust, Ashe. "...Please tell me it wasn’t that obvious."

Sylvan grinned and held out a hand to pull her from her chair. "Not at all. I just have an intuition for these things."

She permitted herself to stay in casual clothes for the third day in a row. There were no urgent matters to be handled in the field for once, and traffic to the bar had all but slowed to a halt. Most of the Riskbreakers' recruits were attending to their own affairs, which afforded her the time and the means to finalize the last of the company's plans to storm the Praetorium.

There would be Enea, a Miqo'te woman with a scarred and beautiful face who wielded with ease a sword taller than she was. There would be Ferrinas, an Elezen lass who had learned pugilism from a band of Ala Mhigans and had sworn to contribute to their liberation however she was able. And there would, of course, be A'zaela, who had witnessed her weeping for the first time in weeks over a stack of paperwork only the previous morning and had sat with her until her tears had dried, saying not a word of it to any of the others afterward. There would be Velas'to and Leodaire and Rael, all of whom had learned of the Riskbreakers and their efforts through the slaying of elite marks and had simply voiced their honest intentions of contributing however they could, if she would have them.

Sylvan had slipped into Ludo's spot in the ranks as effortlessly as she shifted through forms in battle, due in no small part to her willingness to voice gentle dissent whenever one of Ashe's proposed plans would lead them all off the rails. Though the monk had no formal knowledge of combat tactics, she possessed something perhaps even more valuable: sound logic.

Ashe, for her part, had invested the very last of the company’s gil into a monitoring system that would enable her to listen in on every transmission coming in and out of Cape Westwind. With that and the signal jammers from the Garlean weapons cache at their disposal, they could disrupt communications throughout the entire XIVth Legion long enough for them to infiltrate Castrum Meridianum. Once inside, the cache's bombs would see them to the Praetorium.

The Riskbreakers had toiled through two moons of constant momentum for this strategy, and they would have longer still to prepare before the opportune time to strike. She had trained all she could, rallied devoted troops, planned for every scenario she could envision - and that would have to be enough until the day came.

What happened after would depend on whether or not she and her company were worthy of their names.

Ashe had more than earned her three days of quiet but spent most of her solitude trying to convince herself of that fact. Whenever she was not throwing herself headlong into her preparations to tear down the Empire, she focused her thoughts on Ala Mhigo. She remembered the way light shifted through the leaves of the tree on her favorite hill, the color of the capital's ramparts lit up against the setting sun. She remembered the love she'd been given as a girl, and the love she'd given in turn for her family and her friends and the city she had always known to be her birthright - and she let those memories drive her past all that she had lost.

The front door suddenly swung open with enough force for it to rebound against the wall. Though Ashe gave a start and her pulse quickened at the loud bang, she maintained her casual lean against the bar.

A young Ala Mhigan man clad in the yellow robes of a Fist of Rhalgr strode in and glanced around at the Sandsea's sparse interior. She knew him at once as he turned to greet her - not so much by his appearance, but by the remembrance of an innocent, unyielding faith she thought she had left behind so long ago - and he in turn fixed her with a wide-eyed beam.

[sirius-archive]

2,5,7,16,25 for a prompt where it's Sirius after Azkaban and the reader is a part of the order of the Phoenix, maybe they knew each other before he got arrested?

Right, after what feels like a 50-year writing slump, I have finally returned from the grave with this. It’s not my best work, but it’s something I guess. I also combined several asks into this prompt so have fun reading this!

2. “In the least creepy way possible, I know where you live.”, 5. “Emotions are a luxury I don’t have time for.” 7. “I just want to start over.” 16. “Tell me everything,” and 25. “Clearly I did not drink enough for this.”

4. “Why would you even suggest that?” 35. “You don’t deserve this.” And 59. “I don’t want you, I need you.” (Hey. Can I have 4,16,35 and 59 with Sirius pls. Thanks 😍😍)

13. “I love you, I always have.”  (Hi. Could I request a Sirius with nos 7,13, and 59? Thanks)

12 Grimmauld Place is cold and eerie, like something out of a horror film. It gives you the same feeling as a graveyard at midnight would and it’s unnerving to say the least. The place has a distinct air about it; like the walls cling to secrets best left in a grave.

Scaling the stairs, you let your fingers glide over the rail, leaving a trail in the dust. The floorboards groan beneath the weight of your steps as you continue to climb, passing several severed heads of the unfortunate house elves who had fallen victim to Wahlburga Black’s wrath. A pang of sympathy rippled in your chest; it must have been terrible living here.

Yet Sirius Black had to survive here for sixteen years.

It seemed like yesterday when he had arrived on your doorstep, glassy-eyed and exhausted. He had escaped with the hope of never returning, yet here he is, held captive against his will in a place he considers worse than Azkaban. He’s been a prisoner his entire life and the unfairness of it all shakes your heart.

It’s no wonder he’s retreated into his room, isolating himself from everyone and everything in this cursed house. Concern grows inside your ribcage like weeds, sprouting seeds of sympathy as you walk toward his door, your wand levitating a tray of tea on one side while the other trembles around the door knob.

You hesitate slightly, unsure of yourself. It’s been fourteen years since you’ve seen him and those years had dug a void between the two of you. A huge, gaping void that’s filled to the brim with things you could’ve said, things you should’ve said. It reminds you of your youth, standing on the other side of the door, wondering if he still thinks of you the way he used to when you were almost lovers. You have to do this, for Harry, for James and Lily, for Sirius, for you.

One knock, one tentative knock, and Sirius is already dismissing you.

“It’s locked. Don’t bother opening it.” He calls from the other side. You open the door anyway. Sirius is sitting with his back to you and you take a deep breath in, releasing it with a sigh.

“You’ve always been a terrible liar.”

The bottle of fire whiskey that had once been in his loose grasps falls and shatters on the ground. Sirius rises from his seat and whirls around, his eyes blown wide with surprise. You take his stunned silence as an opportunity to study him.

He’s not the same you think as your gaze drags over him. His hair is no longer the groomed mane it had once been, but it does not look too bad for a fugitive who has spent years in Azkaban. The biggest difference that you notice is his eyes; they’re the gloomy grey of a raincloud, the silvery-blue sparkle that had danced in his eyes has died to a bleak glint.

“Sirius…” you whisper, amazed at how elegantly his name fell from your lips. He swallows and runs a hand through his hair in the same way that he did when you were kids.

“(Y/N)…” his voice trails off into the air, and you can’t believe that this is real, that he is here, not stuck inside some prison cell.

“I–er–made some tea…” you murmur, stepping into the room, and you feel like an idiot because you had never thought the first words you would say to him would revolve around tea.

A small smile twitches his lips. “You haven’t aged a day…”

Now you feel really stupid for making the tea comment.

A flick of his wand, and a table and two chairs slide into view. The shards of glass that had once been scattered across the floor have disappeared, now buried at the bottom of a bin, and before you know it, you’re sitting in a sit across from Sirius, two cups of tea in front of you. Sirius spikes his with fire whiskey.

You smile at him, your eyes grazing over the lines on his weary face. He’s still handsome you think, in disbelief. Not even Azkaban could erode his elegant features. He looks up and you look away, choosing to let your eye wander over the details of his room.

“I like the decorations,” you grin, nodding toward the Gryffindor colours and posters of muggle women stuck up on his wall, “This is easily my favorite place in this house. Apart from the kitchen, of course.”

Sirius follows your eye and a smirk flits over his lips. “Yeah. I don’t think Walburga did, though.”

“That was the point, wasn’t it?” It’s more of a statement then a question and Sirius allows himself to smirk wickedly.

“Of course! To vex the bitch…”

You snort as you rise from your seat and trail your fingers across the posters. “I’m assuming you used the same charm you used on Filch to stick these posters to the wall…”

“I wish I could have hung around to watch Walburga and Orion try to rip them off the wall,” Sirius chortled, “That would have made living here worth it.”

You turn and give Sirius a solemn look, before forcing a small smile onto your lips. When you turned back to his bedroom wall, your eyes fell on a photograph of you and the three Marauders. It’s like a glimpse into the past; when everything was an adventure and nothing had consequences. James has his arm slung around you and Sirius is lying on your lap. Remus is squashed into the corner of the sofa and Peter is sitting on the floor. Your eyes brim with tears.

“My favourite photo of us,” says Sirius voice from behind you, and you snap your watery gaze from the photo and onto Sirius, who is standing beside you.

“Taken the day before Gryffindor’s match with Slytherin,” you murmur, your finger trailing over James’ beaming face.

A cold silence swallows the two of you as you stare into the photo, memories filling you up like salt water. Sirius manages to tear through them when he clears his throat and mutters in a hoarse voice.

“In the least creepy way possible, I know where you live,” You turn your gaze away from the photo to stare at Sirius, a loose grin tugging the corners of his lips, “After I escaped from Azkaban, I went to your house. I thought about knocking but I–I couldn’t. I just couldn’t. Not after all this time locked away from you…”

“I would’ve loved to see you,” you whisper, “I would’ve liked to know that you were okay.”

“I know, I’m a coward,” Sirius murmurs, his eyes averting to the ground in shame.

“Sirius Orion Black, you are not a coward. After everything you’ve been through, you have shown that you are more brave than Godric Gryffindor himself. Why would you even suggest that?”

Sirius’ sad gaze returned to you, and in the glassy grey depths of his eyes, you saw the answer. I didn’t save James and Lily, I let Harry get taken to those bloody muggles, I wasn’t there when he needed me.

“None of that was your fault,” you whisper, bringing a hand to his face and cupping it. Sirius leans into your touch, and a stray tear falls from his cheek, soaking into the skin of his cheek.

Quite suddenly, he rips himself away from your touch and tears a trembling hand through his hair.

“I can’t do this right now,” he mutters, bitterly, taking the repaired bottle of fire whiskey and taking a long drag. He wipes his mouth with the back of his sleeve and tosses the empty bottle across the room. “Clearly I did not drink enough for this.”

“It’s okay to cry, Sirius,” you coo, “You’ve been through more than anyone else can handle. It’s okay to show emotion…”

“Emotions are a luxury I don’t have time for,” Sirius snips, agitation leaking into his voice, “Besides, you don’t even know if I’m innocent or not! Maybe I was the spy everyone was so afraid of! Maybe I did kill those muggles!”

“Sirius, I never suspected you,” you say, matching his fiery temper with cool calmness, “Not even for a second. I knew like I know now that you weren’t capable of such things. You would have died for James and Lily. So don’t give me that bullshit that was shoved down everyone else’s throat. Because I know for a fact that you were innocent and I have spent fourteen years of my life trying to prove it.”

Sirius stared at you as your revelation washed over him. “Y–You were trying to–?”

“–Yes,” you mumble, “Why else do you think I became an investigative journalist?” You take a short breath in and release it, “I want your story to be told. But in order for me to do so, I need you to tell me everything. We’re going to do this, Sirius, even if it kills me.”

“Don’t say that,” Sirius mutters, “I’ve already lost enough friends. I can’t lose you, too.”

You took a seat again and crossed your legs in a fashion that was inviting him to talk. “Tell me everything,”

Sirius fixed a solemn expression onto his tired features as he began to pour all his emotions onto you. He screamed, he cried, he bellowed and kicked furniture to channel his anger. He pounded the air and ran his fingers through his hair. He gritted his teeth and clenched his jaw as he unravelled before you. You remained as a firm anchor through it all, allowing him to stay grounded. Half an hour passes before he finally throws himself onto the edge of his bed and slumps forward, his hands shaking violently. You walk over and sit beside him.

“I just want to start over.” He choked, his voice strangled and hoarse, “With Harry…with you.”

You lean forward and cover his large, calloused hand with your much smaller one, allowing your warmth to soak his trembling hands.

“You don’t deserve this,” you whisper, “You don’t deserve the guilt or the pain or any of this. But we can work through it. All of us. You deserve so much more, Sirius Black. You deserve happiness.”

Sirius’ gaze turns to yours and you can see your reflection in the pools of grey and blue.

“Sirius, I want you to be happy,” you say, softly, “I love you, I always have and I always will. Let me help you heal…”

Sirius’ eyes flicker down to your lips then back to your eyes, asking for permission, even though he knows he will always have it. He doesn’t have to say the words, because you understand, you’re already halfway there, leaning in to taste him like you never have before. His lips crash against yours as recklessly as tidal waves throwing themselves against the shore and you can’t help but get sucked under.

It’s familiar, yet new. He tastes like nostalgia and honey, bittersweet memories and rain drops. You kiss him like he wasn’t an almost lover, like he was always your lover, because it’s the truth. You always loved him, he always loved you.

When you break away, Sirius’ voice his husky and low, and it’s as though you’ve breathed new life into him because he looks fifteen years younger, handsome and daring and invincible and brave.

“I love you too,” he breathes, and somehow, his hands had found your cheeks and he was holding you like a promise, “I want you so much. No, I don’t want you, I need you.”

You smile, and before you know it, Sirius is kissing it from your lips.

no more prompts please, i’d better stop procrastinating 

[beatricenius]

A Challenge - Part 2

Part 1 here

This fic is also on ao3

After that night, Hannibal saw Will even on the days where he had no classes. Usually they would walk together or sit by the docks, and occasionally Hannibal would watch Will practice his routines with his dance partner Alana, pen in hand and sketchpad on his lap.

“I can’t believe you actually drew these,” Will said while flipping through some of his sketches. “They’re amazing. Reminds me of that artist with the ballerinas.”

Hannibal paused. “Degas?”

“If you say so.”

He smiled. “Degas’ dancers were often in the midst of the mundane. My portrayals are far more indulgent,” He pointed to a sketch of Will lifting Alana in the air. “A true artist wouldn’t be afraid to pick apart the poetry of it. I’m not quite so bold.”

“I don’t think you suffer any lack of boldness,” Will smiled and gathered his things. “Want to go for a swim?”

Hannibal usually felt alienated in other people’s presence, but there was a glimmer of potential in the depth of Will’s perceptive gaze, something drawing him in. Whatever Will asked and wherever he wanted to go, Hannibal followed with disturbing lack of second thought. He put his sketchpad and pen away and nodded, letting Will drag him along to the lake.

“Aren’t you going to get in the water?” Will called from over his shoulder as he struggled out of his clothes. Hannibal lowered his gaze out of courtesy and shook his head, finding himself a shaded spot overlooking the lake.

“I thought I might try my hand at the mundane,” He said, taking his sketchpad back out. Will shrugged and waded out into the water. Even from afar, Hannibal could make out the soft moan slipping past Will’s lips as he submerged himself completely, a trembling sound of relief that forced him to take a deep breath before his pen touched a fresh sheet of paper.

Art was all perception, Hannibal knew, and he didn’t know whether the emotion Will stirred in him changed his perception of the final result or if the final result held a sliver of the strange new beauty his eyes had been opened to. Either way, he found he was unusually attached to the sketches of Will, whether he was wiping water from his face with hair plastered in inky tendrils over his head or sprawled inelegantly on the dock, double-chinned with a hat covering half his face to avoid the scorching sun.

“That is somehow both flattering and horrifying,” Will said once he saw the new sketches, pointing an accusing finger. “I told you a lack of boldness wasn’t your problem.”

“I merely drew what I saw.”

“Then I’m a terrible subject,” Hannibal thought Will’s flushed face couldn’t be entirely blamed on the sun. “You should stick to drawing Alana.”

The offhand statement gave Hannibal pause. “You two seem close,” He said, lacking the courage to ask what he really wanted to ask. “Have you known each other long?”

“Years,” Will said. “She’s a great friend.”

Once again, Will was either observant enough to see through him or Hannibal was simply not as skilled at deception as he liked to think, because he was given a small smile that could only be described as reassuring.

“We’re just friends, really. That’s all there is to it.”

Hannibal nodded and turned his gaze back to his sketchpad. There he found another Will, waist-deep in water, flashing his wolfish grin with a hand outstretched – waving or beckoning.

*

Seeing Will every day eventually became such a regular occurrence that Hannibal found he was concerned when someone else filled in for him during class. He tried not to let it bother him - Will was under no obligation to tell him every little thing, after all. But when he still hadn’t seen him around when afternoon turned into evening, Hannibal couldn’t help but look for him.

He eventually found him in his studio, immersed in a whispered discussion with Alana and another man he assumed to be a co-worker. From behind the half-open door, Hannibal could see how Will pulled out a few crinkled bills from his pocket, saying something he couldn’t quite make out while handing Alana the money.

Gripped by curiosity and hoping he wasn’t intruding too much, Hannibal opened the door. Will’s gaze snapped toward him immediately.

“Hannibal,” His eyes were soft mist and rainclouds, all gentle concern and no malice. “This isn’t really a good time.”

“What’s wrong?”

“Nothing,” Alana said with a certain edge to her voice, shoving the money back into Will's hands. “I can’t take your money, Will. This is all you’ve got.”

“And it’s all I’ll have if you don’t get that appointment,” Will pursed his lips. “You’re not the only one depending on it, you know.”

“It doesn’t even matter whether I have enough money or not. We still can’t make it happen before Thursday. That was the only appointment available.”

The man Hannibal didn’t know nudged him in the side. “Alana’s got herself into some trouble,” He said in a hushed tone of voice.

“What kind of trouble?”

The man pointed to his stomach and the talk of an appointment suddenly made sense to Hannibal. His insides were instantly tied into knots as he pondered who might be responsible aside from Alana, but he trusted what Will had told him.

“Why can’t it wait until Thursday?” He asked the stranger.

“They have a weekly thing at another resort. If they don’t perform, they’re not getting paid for the season.”

Hannibal deliberated quickly. Then he turned to Alana.

“Excuse me,” He said. “I apologize if I’m being untoward, but I might be able to help. I have connections in medical school. While I only have theoretical knowledge myself, I might be able to get someone more experienced out here before Thursday. Discreetly, of course.”

Everyone stared in baffled silence.

“Really?” Will asked, as if Hannibal would make such an offer groundlessly.

“Really,” He affirmed. Then he turned to Alana again. “Assuming that is truly what you want, of course.”

Alana gave him a look of tentative hope, sincere enough that her yes almost seemed excessive. Hannibal contacted one of the professors at Johns Hopkins that he had reason to believe performed such procedures from time to time. The fact that he knew about the illegal proceedings was enough for Dr. Sutcliffe to oblige, and Hannibal felt surprisingly indifferent about the polite extortion he found himself engaging in. In the end, the issue was more easily resolved than he would have thought.

*

While emotions were sometimes difficult for Hannibal to properly categorize, jealousy was by far the easiest one to place. He experienced that firm tug of possessiveness more often than not those few times he had managed to form a close connection to somebody. Despite Will’s reassurance, he felt it every time he saw him and Alana together. He felt even more strongly when he saw the tender, relieved expression on Will’s face as he told him the abortion had gone well. 

But once they were alone with each other again, sitting on the damp wood of their favored dock while watching the sun lower past the line of the lake, the shards and splinters and sharp edges inside dulled into blunt points.

“So,” Will smiled and nudged him in the ribs with his elbow. “Medical school, huh? Honestly thought you were a little young for that.”

“I am a little young for it. I’m seventeen.”

Will stared, mouth half-open. “Seriously? How long have you been in med school?”

“I’m not attending. I was offered to and I have been in contact with the professors, but I’ve chosen to wait,” Hannibal turned to look at him. “I’m afraid my age might present me with social challenges I’m not quite willing to face.”

Will nodded, slowly. “I get that,” He smiled again. “You must be really, really smart.”

“Yes,” Will’s laugh was loud and genuine, reminding Hannibal of trickling water and strings being plucked. “What about you?”

“Oh, I haven’t got that kind of money,” Will’s face gained a shy expression as he averted his gaze. “I’m self-taught with dancing. I’ve always wanted to be in law enforcement though.”

“Why?”

“I think I could be useful there,” He looked out over the lake. The smile hadn’t quite faded from his lips, but his eyes were serious, weighed down by the bleak fog and rain Hannibal easily recognized by now. “You know, there are people that get away with the most awful things. Cops say things like, there’s nothing they can do, there are no leads, and so on. I don’t believe that. There’s always something, if you just look. If you’re willing to see.”

“What is it they won’t see that you will?”

“Everything,” Will’s eyes turned flinty. “I can’t explain it very well. I’ve never been able to. But my mind goes these dark places, and they’re places I can understand. I want to use that understanding for something,” He shook his head, pinching the bridge of his nose. “I sound like a crazy person. I’m sorry.”

“You don’t,” Hannibal’s mind was running in hundred different directions, trying to make sense of what he had just heard. “I think you sound like a brave person.”

“We may have different definitions of brave.” 

Hannibal was about to protest, but then Will scooted closer and wrapped an arm around his back, and there was a sudden tightness in his chest – as if his insides were expanding. He closed his eyes and risked resting his head against Will’s shoulder. He wasn’t sure how much time passed like that, but eventually, he heard himself break the silence.

“My family was killed,” His confession was much more quiet than he intended for it to be. “The ones responsible haven’t been brought to justice. I have many dark places.”

Will pulled him even closer, wrapping both his arms around him, and the pressure under Hannibal’s ribs bordered on painful. He could feel warm, damp breath in his hair as Will’s cheek pressed against the top of his head and then he felt his own arms twine around Will’s waist until they were tangled up like vines or snakes or the thoughts racing through Hannibal’s head.

“I would follow you there,” Will said, voice silky-rough like crushed velvet. “I would occupy them with you, if you needed me to.”

Hannibal felt as though Will reached through the bars of his ribs and squeezed his heart in his hand. It felt reckless and unsafe. Irreversible, in the sense that there was an empty hollow left behind once he was on his own again. Alone in his bed, he wished he had seen the look on Will’s face when he held him so he might replicate it in a drawing. But his eyes had been closed the entire time, and even attempting to imagine it was an impossible feat.

[thinkoutsidethelovesquare]

Chickens Never Prosper (TOTLS Remix)

So, I am a huuuuge fan of breeeliss. I was both elated and terrified to get the opportunity to remix one of her works the way you get amazingly excited to meet your idol and then become disgustingly scared you might throw up on their shoes. Oh? You’ve never had that problem before? My anxiety is not a universal trait among all human beings on this earth? Go figure. 

Written for @breeeliss based on her work, Chicken 

_____________________________________________

Alix couldn’t help but wonder what deity she had pissed off so intensely it would force her into a building alone, save for Chloé Bourgeois. It seemed clear to her that no amount of natural randomness or entropy could create the circumstances necessary for her to be corralled in her current coop. She was convinced outside forces were at play.

When the first water droplets quietly slicked the sidewalks, Alix payed no mind. It seemed fitting to end her day with rain. Since early that morning, life was pitted against her. Her favorite pair of skates had taken a beating when she fell on the way to school, narrowly avoiding hitting a car and a stroller. She accidentally left her homework on her bed and was forced to sit through a grouchy lecture on responsibility from Madame Mendeleiev. The day only got worse when the class was divided into pairs for a project. They were assigned a Parisian historical monument and expected to visit it and write a paper about its “significance to French culture” and Alix could not have cared less. Having been partnered with Kim, Alix assumed there would be little work done, but at least the afternoon wouldn’t be wasted with such a boring activity. But when their goofing off sent Mylène spiraling into Mademoiselle Bustier as she reprimanded Marinette and Alya for passing notes in class, the two were split apart. Kim was reassigned to Sabrina, which left Paris’s Darling for Alix.

Fantastic.

They were tasked with researching the Sainte-Chapelle, and after spending all afternoon in it, Alix was sure of three things

The crown of thorns has an underwhelming number of thorns for her tastes

No one has ever cared less about religion and history than she does

*Amendment to #2: Except for Chloé Bourgeois, who spent the majority of her breath mooning over her dead phone and complaining about what kind of ungodly establishment the Sainte-Chapelle must be for not having outlets lining the walls

Despite constant assurances that she’s far more cultured than anyone in class, Chloé did nothing to aid Alix in their research and the skater girl was quickly losing her mind.

Scrawling the last of her notes so hastily she definitely wouldn’t be able to read her handwriting tomorrow, Alix shot Chloé a glare and announced her plan to walk home.

“You’re walking home?” Chloé asked, incredulous. “You can’t be serious.”

Alix paused, tossing a glance over her shoulder as she walked past Chloé. “As a heart attack.”

Chloé stuck out a hip, straightening her arm out to Alix, palm up and fingers flexing. “Then you should at least give me your phone.”

Turning around to fully face her partner, Alix asked lazily “And why would I do that?”

“Haven’t you been listening to me at all? My phone is dead! I can’t call anyone to pick me up!” Though she didn’t move, her tone was as indignant as if she’d stomped her foot.

“Sucks.” Alix continued her walk towards the entrance of the building.

Chloé followed her to the door. “Stop being ridiculous. I just need to make a call. You should be jumping at the opportunity to help me.”

“I don’t even have my phone. Kim and I made a bet two days ago, and I lost,” Alix grumbled. “But it’s not a big deal since some of us don’t live on our phones,” she shot a pointed look at Chloé.

Taking a step out into the growing darkness, Alix cursed herself for letting it get so late. Where visible, the sky was a deep navy and heavy, dark rainclouds cast all of Paris in a dim grey hue.

“Ugh, why am I being punished for socializing?” Chloé griped to herself.

Without sending another word in the blonde’s direction, Alix pulled her cap tightly to her head and started walking.

“You can’t just leave me here!” Chloé called.

“No one’s stopping you from following me.”

“Clearly the sky is,” Chloé replied sharply. “It’s pouring! And it’s so dark.”

“It’s just a little rain,” Alix tossed over her shoulder.

“There’s no way anyone in their right mind would consider this a little rain.”

Looking around, Alix silently conceded Chloé’s point. It was raining hard enough that only the spastic flickering of streetlamps shone through the haze of the downpour.

But she needed to get home. Though her dad didn’t have a fixed schedule for when he would get home after work, and even with his often scatterbrained tendencies, she knew he would be worried about her being out this late without calling him or Jalil.

Her resolved strengthened, and she walked with a confidence she didn’t fully feel. “I’m going home, Chloé. You should too.”

With her vision compromised from the rain, she stepped directly into a deep puddle. The water immediately soaked through her shoes, coating her feet in a wet, cold prison. She bit back a groan and continued forward, squinting at the ground in vain.

Realizing that being alone with no way of comfortably getting home was her only alternative, Chloé grit her teeth and jumped out into the rain. Her steps were quick as she tried to catch up with Alix, who hadn’t slowed at all.

The pair sped through the streets without glancing at each other, Alix invested in searching for signs they were headed in the right direction, and Chloé seething at the rain ruining her hair. It pounded against her so fiercely, her sunglasses were almost knocked off her head.

The girls’ silence would have been uncomfortable if the rain wasn’t so deafening.

Shortly into their walk, the sky lit up blindingly, illuminating the path in front of them briefly. A large building stood off to the side, ominous in its imposing and shadowed stature. The roaring sound of thunder bounced around the atmosphere.

“You have got to be kidding me,” Chloé grumbled, exasperated. She turned to her short companion and flicked up an eyebrow. “Can we find a place to take cover now? Or is lightning not enough for big, strong Alix?”

Alix almost wanted to continue into the darkness, even with the threat of getting struck by lightning, just to get rid of the condescending look emboldened on Chloé’s face. But, Alix was sensible and could at least sometimes hold herself in check out of respect for her own safety.

“We’re right by Notre Dame,” she said, trying to keep her tone in check. “We can step inside for a few minutes until the storm passes.”

“Brilliant.”

Darting off to the right, not bothering to check if Chloé could see her, Alix dashed off to the cathedral.

The pair ducked inside, and Alix instantly took off her cap and shook her hair wildly, throwing off any loose water droplets.

Chloé held up her hands and made a face of pure disgust. “Could you give me some warning next time! God, what are you, a dog?”

Alix ignored her and dropped into a pew, leaning back along the wooden seats and refusing to speak to her unfortunate companion.

The torrential downpour was muted by the building surrounding them, making their silence obvious and unshakeable.

Shivering from both the cold the rain provided and the lack of heat in the atmosphere, Alix decided she wouldn’t be able to last long without doing something.

“Wanna play a game?” she asked, twisting in her seat to make eye contact with the blonde.

“As if,” Chloé scoffed.

“Fine. We can both just sit here bored for hours. Your call.”

Crossing her arms, Chloé glanced away from Alix with a huff. “I guarantee you there’s no game you could come up with that I’d be interested in playing. I’m from a more…sophisticated environment than you’re used to.”

“Chicken.”

Chloé flicked her sopping wet ponytail off her shoulder and glared at Alix. “Just because I don’t have the patience for something so childish doesn’t mean I’m scared.”

“No,” Alix grinned. “That’s the game. Chicken. Let’s play.”

“Really? That’s the game you come up with? Obviously, I’m not going to play Chicken.”

Alix stood up from her pew and tilted her head to the side. She bent her arms at her elbows and brought them up to her armpits, fluttering them up and down as makeshift wings. She walked towards Chloé clucking like a chicken, taking exaggerated steps and bobbing her head.

“I am not a chicken for not wanting to play your dumb game!” Chloé yelled.

“I think that’s exactly what a chicken would say,” Alix baited.

Chloé stood her ground for another 15 seconds, face turning red and chest puffing out.

“I mean, we all know how you are in akuma attacks. You’re the first to run for cover. Very chicken-like,” Alix added, the final nail in Chloé’s coffin.

“Fine! We can play Chicken!” Chloé’s arms burst from their place crossed over her chest, flailing wildly in her exasperation. “I don’t even know how you want to go about that. There’s not anything intimidating to do inside a church.”

“See, that’s where you’re wrong.” Alix’s eyes flicked around the large space, catching on the candles lit on the far wall. An idea sparked in her mind and she grinned wickedly. “In fact, I already have our first round picked out.”

Chloé groaned.

Leaping towards the candles, Alix called out for Chloé to follow her.

Taking out two candles from the stand, Alix offered one to Chloé, which she didn’t hesitate to accept. The heat rubbed into her fingertips, and Chloé brought the candle closer to her chest, hoping its proximity would warm her still-soaked body.

“We’re going to lean our heads over the flame. First one to move away in fear of it catching her hair is chicken,” Alix stated.

“That’s really stupid,” Chloé mumbled.

Alix smirked. “If it’s so stupid, you’ll have no problem winning.”

Chloé scoffed in response, but did nothing else to refuse.

Taking the blonde’s silence as tacit acceptance, Alix continued. “We’ll start with the flame this far away from the bottom of our hair,” she demonstrated the distance on herself with the candle slightly below her collarbone “and then we’ll raise the candles until someone flinches. Sound fair?”

Chloé gave an eye roll but nodded to show her approval. She placed the candle much farther down on her body, so the distance between the flame and her hair was the same as the distance Alix had shown. She gave Alix a pointed look.

The pink-haired girl grinned. “Ready? We’ll start moving it slowly on three. One. Two. Three.”

The flames flickered at the sudden movement, bending as the air pressed against them. The girls moved in tandem, eyes constantly moving to check the speed of their opponent while also making sure the candle wasn’t falling to the side or catching on clothing.

The distance halved before the pair slightly slowed their movements. Warm, soft light danced on chins, highlighted tips of noses, and swept across cheeks. Alix’s eyes were usually such a deep blue that her irises were constantly swallowed by her pupils. But with the flame darting closer to her face, her eyes shone brighter than Chloé had ever seen. Mischievous dark specs flecked randomly throughout the blue, tempting Chloé to fall into their deep embrace.

Shaking herself from her thoughts, she glanced back towards her own candle. Wispy golden strands of her hair that had already dried caught in the light, billowing carelessly in all directions. Though most of her hair still clung to itself in a damp clump of ponytail, Chloé nervously eyed how close the fire came to those wild strands.

Chloé shifted her weight from one foot to another, and Alix knew the blonde wouldn’t last much longer.

Smothering a smirk, Alix continued lifting the candle, trying to ignore the heat subtly pressing against the underside of her jaw.

Chloé lasted another second before pulling the flame away in defeat. She couldn’t ruin her hair like that. It had already taken enough of a beating today.

Alix pumped her first in triumph and jumped in the air. She took a second away from gloating to place her candle back on the wall.

Before Alix could start clucking, Chloé argued “That wasn’t a fair test and you know it.”

Alix laughed but humored the girl. “Oh? And how was it unfair?”

“Everyone knows I care more about my hair than you do! Obviously, I was going to stop that candle from destroying it. It’s not a crime to take pride in your appearance, you know. ”

“You did agree to it,” Alix pointed out.

Chloé huffed indignantly.

“Whatever. It’s still pouring anyway. We might as well do a few more rounds. Unless that loss totally freaked you out,” Alix waggled her eyebrows tauntingly.

“I am not backing down.” Chloé stood her ground, glaring defiantly at Alix. “But I am picking the next challenge.”

“Be my guest.”

Chloé eyed the space, walking through the cathedral with practiced ease. She paused for a moment, staring down the main isle, cocking her hip as she contemplated her next move.

“Planks,” she said, nodding her head definitively. “We’re doing planks. On the pews. Our hands on the ground, feet up on the side of the bench. A real workout.”

Alix looked at her like she was crazy. “You want to do a challenge that tests our strength? I thought you were playing to win this time,” Alix mocked.

Chloé smirked. “You think I don’t have to work for a body like this? Please, I have way more core strength than you.”

Alix shook her head in disbelief. “Chloé, I’m an actual athlete. You’re just skinny. You can’t possibly think this is going to go well for you.”

“I guess you have no reason to back down from the challenge, then. First one to fall or break form loses.” Chloé walked over to a pew, hips swaying in confidence. She delicately took out an old church bulletin haphazardly stuffed into a pew rack, and ripped off the front two pages. She placed them down on the floor in the middle of the church isle, indicating she had found her spot for planking.

Alix chose a pew across from her, forgoing the ripped bulletin. “You’re on.”

Both girls put their hands on the floor, Alix’s directly, Chloé’s on top of paper, and lifted one leg to rest on their respective pews.

“On three,” Chloé started “one…two…three.”

They lifted their other legs to rest on the pews as well, putting all the force on their hands, arms, and cores.

They first found themselves relatively evenly matched. The first two minutes ticked by without a sign of weakness from either girl.

Silence once again overtook the church, save for the muted rumbling of thunder and rain. Chloé chanced a glance at her opponent, smiling at how her face resembled her hair, pink from exertion.

Seven minutes passed without a winner, though both girls’ arms shook slightly.

Her core was on fire, throbbing from the exercise, but Chloé remained determined to win the challenge and make Alix the fool.

Finally, after what felt like hours but couldn’t have been more than a few extra minutes, Alix’s back arched and she sagged to the ground in defeat, grumbling unintelligibly.

Chloé dropped to the ground as well, scrambling to rest her back against the pew and taking a moment to breathe and smile wickedly.

“Who’s the chicken now?” she teased.

“Not for long,” Alix hopped up from her spot on the floor. “Up for another round?”

“Ready to lose again?”

“Don’t get cocky. We’re tied,” Alix reminded her.

“Bring it on.”

Alix enthusiastically jumped onto a pew bench and then stepped up onto the backrest, balancing easily on the thin line of rounded wood.

She offered a hand out to Chloé who deliberately ignored it.

“We’re gonna race to the end of the nave by running on the backrests of pews”

“So…we’re going to, like, hop from backrest to backrest?”

“Yep.”

“That’s insane,” Chloé said, turning her nose up at the challenge. “Who has the balance for that?”

“Forfeiting means you’re chicken.”

“Fine! I don’t even know why you’d want to do this. You have way shorter legs than I do.” Chloé stepped onto the pew bench delicately before raising herself to stand precariously on the top of the backrest.

“You ready?” Alix called, already holding back laughter at how difficult this clearly would be for her opponent.

“As I’ll ever be,” she muttered.

Alix counted them in and they sped off towards the altar.

Alix jumped with precision to each pew, shooting out along the backrests, not slowing down enough to make a mistake. Chloé moved slower, cautious with each step. She leapt off from one foot but let the other land before moving to the next jump, giving her a more stable base.

Noting how far she had fallen behind, Chloé attempted to speed up and reclaim the lost distance. She took less care with her landings, focusing all her energy on moving forward.

As she was about to hop to the pew just behind Alix, her foot slid on the polished wood and she fell down to the ground, slamming her knee on the footrest.

She let out a small noise of shock, dumbfounded.

Alix continued to rocket to the crossing, her roller blading practice gifting her with speed and balance. Once she landed on the ground after jumping off the final pew with flare, she celebrated with a breathy shout and turned around to search for Chloé, her chest heaving.

When she noticed the blonde on the ground clutching her leg, she ran down the isle without thinking, fell to the ground in front of Chloé, and reached out.

“Are you okay? Did you fall? Did you break something?” she worried.

“Obviously, I fell,” Chloé said, bitter. “Just help me up.”

Alix stood up and pulled Chloé to her feet, concern vanishing as quickly as it had appeared. She watched silently as Chloé brushed herself clean of nonexistent dirt and knew the girl was fine.

“Hey Chloé,” she asked with a smirk. “What’s for dinner?”

Chloé raised an eyebrow in acknowledgement, her mouth a straight line, but made no move to respond verbally.

“I thought you might be feeling like chicken tonight.”

Chloé smacked Alix on her arm in irritation and Alix howled with laughter, doubling over and clutching her stomach.

“God, your face, Chloé.”

The blonde harrumphed and crossed her arms over her chest. “Whatever, next match, let’s go.”

They spent the next hour challenging each other to anything they could think of. They did push-ups, stomachs still burning from their previous planks, until Chloé’s arms collapsed beneath her. They held handstands against the wall until the blood rushing to their heads forced them to topple to the ground. They held splits until they felt they would snap in half, and lowered their bodies into backbends as slowly as possible, Alix cursing as she fell on her head. They even took places on opposite walls and ran at each other full force, assuming the other would chicken out and swerve to the side to avoid a collision. Instead, they rammed into each other, bodies colliding and limbs crumpling to the ground as they landed in a tangled mess.

Chloé was clearly put out by their predicament, eyebrows pulled down angrily over blazing eyes. She tried to twist her legs away, only resulting in the two knotting together tighter.

Alix laughed at Chloé’s struggle, leaning back on her forearms, relaxed.

Chloé stopped wiggling, accepting her new position with a huff.

“What do you suggest we do from here?” she asked, her tone biting.

“There’s still one really popular challenge we haven’t done.”

“Does it involve getting up? Because I already tried that.” Chloé shot Alix an emphatic look. “Maybe if you tried to help me instead of laughing like a maniac, we would be able to free ourselves.”

“We don’t have to stand up for it.”

“Then let’s hear it.”

“We lean in to kiss,” Chloé’s eyes bugged out of her head. “and the first one to pull away is the chicken.”

There was a beat of silence and Chloé’s cheeks flamed.

She pretended they were flamed in anger.

After taking a moment to collect her self, Chloé balked “God. Clearly this whole stunt was just a way for you to try and put the moves on me.”

“'This whole stunt’? Even you can’t possibly be arrogant enough to believe I somehow orchestrated a storm, got us caught in it, got rid of both of our phones, and forced you to play Chicken.”

“Then why are you even suggesting it!”

“Because I know you’ll say no. And that means you forfeit, and I win,” Alix finished with a devious smile.

Chloé paused, considering her options. She had worked too hard to prove herself to back down now. She could call Alix’s bluff.

“Fine. Let’s do this.”

Neither of them made a move to get closer to each other.

Alix was the first to break the tension. “Uh, we’re going to have to get a little up close and personal, blondie.” Her tone was relaxed, but her stiff shoulders failed to conceal her nerves.

Chloé snorted. “Oh no, there is absolutely no way I’m scooting forward to you. These are white pants.”

“They’re probably already dirty,” Alix pointed out.

“Well, I’m not going to rub it in further.”

She rolled her eyes at how uptight Chloé always was. “Whatever.”

And with that, Alix closed the distance between them. She raised herself off of her forearms and pushed against the ground, sliding her body along the floor. Her knees bunched in front of her, bumping into Chloé’s legs, and Chloé tried to curl them to the side to create more room. The two were still mildly entangled, but there was enough space between them for Alix to lean forward.

“We’re going to both lean in, meeting halfway,” Alix said with a low voice, just barely dancing over a whisper. “If you don’t chicken out, that is.”

“As if,” Chloé said, annoyed. “Who’s to say you’re not going to back down?”

“Have I ever backed down from a challenge?”

Chloé smirked. “You’ve never had a competitor like me.”

“We’ll see.”

Alix started moving first, leaning slowly towards their midpoint. Chloé followed the movement, edging forwards carefully.

They pulled together, eyes blown wide, cheeks flushing ever so slightly. As the centimeters between them dwindled and warm breath hit their lips and chins, Alix felt her head automatically tilt in invitation. Chloé’s followed, falling to the opposite side in a complimentary action.

Chloé’s shoulders quivered in anxious anticipation, daring her to back down. She threw out thoughts of pulling away, and the tip of her tongue darted out to moisten lips that had dried in the cool atmosphere of the cathedral.

Alix tilted her chin up slightly as Chloé tilted hers down, electric shocks traveling in the slowly decreasing space between their lips.

When Alix smelled the subtle hints of mint from Chloé’s breath, she knew this challenge was about to take a wildly different turn than she had expected. And unintentionally, the corners of her mouth flicked up, making her unable to deny the warmth spreading steadily through her chest.

Chloé knew if she wanted to stop the kiss, she had to turn away now. Her lips were prickling from their close proximity, and the tiny white hairs on her arms stood straight up in warning.

But, it suddenly dawned on her that she wanted this. She was buzzing with restless energy

at the mere thought of their impending action. She found herself wondering what kind of kisser Alix was. Was she pushy and daring? Rough with a soft spot? Gentle and coaxing?

Their speed almost came to a standstill as less than a centimeter separated their mouths. Any slight movement would send them spiraling into the land of no return, and each girl watched carefully for any sign of hesitance from the other.

When none was found, breaths hitched, eyes tumbled shut, and the light press of apprehensive lips shocked the world.

There were a few milliseconds without any movement until Alix pushed herself along the ground, further integrating her body into Chloé’s space, head tilting ever so slightly to deepen the kiss.

At the unexpected movement, Chloé’s hand shot up automatically and clasped Alix’s shoulder. Unsure what she was doing, her hand hesitated before pulling Alix in closer against her body, effectively dragging the small girl onto her lap.

Alix smirked into the kiss, fascinated by Chloé’s sudden neediness, and positioned herself more comfortably. She maneuvered around, lips lessening in pressure against the blonde’s, but never fully breaking contact, and laid her knees on either side of Chloé’s thighs.

She used the new position to raise herself, tilting Chloé’s head back, and putting Alix in control of the kiss. A hand snuck up to Chloé’s neck and gently stroked through the soft baby hairs freely hovering in the air.

Alix parted her lips slightly, but didn’t wait for Chloé to take the hint. Instead, she let her tongue flick out along Chloé’s lips, before retreating back inside her mouth in a “ding-dong-ditch” game.

Chloé’s lips parted when she felt the new texture against her mouth, and she huffed her disappointment when it left her unsatisfied.

Alix pulled away, breaking the kiss, but a low “Oh no you don't” from Chloé had her smothering a laugh against the pair of lips again almost immediately.

This kiss was deeper and harder. Chloé parted her lips at first firm touch, and sent her tongue out to trace along the seam of Alix’s. When the pink-haired girl subtly refused to open her mouth, Chloé relegated herself to other methods of enticement.

She broke their lips apart and placed small, soft kisses along the corner of Alix’s mouth and down her chin. She lightly ran her nose up along Alix’s jaw, before kissing back down it, nipping lightly every few touches. The hand on Alix’s shoulder squeezed faintly, then snaked its way into her hair, tugging on her side ponytail to tilt her head, offering her neck to Chloé’s teasing.

She placed delicate kisses along the skin to start, barely putting any pressure behind them, only a ghosting of lips. She gradually deepened the kisses, even sucking slightly, earning a breathy groan from the girl she was slowly wrecking.

She placed hot, open-mouthed kisses all along Alix’s neck, taking moments to carefully graze teeth on unsuspecting patches of skin. She went down to the girl’s collarbone, nipping softly, before noticing how ragged Alix’s breathing had become.

She flew back up to Alix’s lips, pressing them together, and this time Alix opened her mouth in need. Chloé took Alix’s bottom lip in between her teeth, biting down gently before finally letting her tongue slip into Alix’s mouth.

The new sensation of mouths sliding together pulled low groans from the backs of their throats, muted

only by tangled lips and tongues.

Alix lowered herself and slid farther into Chloé’s lap, knees bracing on either side of the blonde’s hips, bodies pressing together. The change in heights had the girls battling for dominance, heads tilting to different angles, breathy moans scattering out along the silent church. Chloé’s hands fell down and gripped Alix’s hips, trying to pull her even closer, while Alix rested one hand on Chloé’s shoulder and the other rubbed circles on her neck, keeping constant pressure in their kissing.

They moved in tandem, hands roaming and chests heaving until their passionate disregard for the outside forces of nature had them falling to the side, once against landing in a heap of limbs.

They broke apart at the falling sensation, and when the hit the ground, both girls rolled onto their backs, clutching their shoulders from where they had landed.

They let a comfortable silence fill the air, the only noise coming from their crazy breathing and gentle movements into more comfortable positions on the floor. They let their heart rates slow, and felt a slow bubble of unease encompass them, demanding to know what just happened.

“I…don’t know what that was,” Chloé broke the quiet.

Alix let her head loll to the side so she could look at the blonde lying next to her. “I think it’s pretty obvious what that was.”

Chloé made an unintelligible noise in the back of her throat and dropped her head to the side to meet Alix’s eyes, pupils blown wide. “What are we going to do about it?”

Alix laughed under her breath. “Well, I think it’s safe to say neither of us lost that round.”

“Are you kidding me?” Chloé asked, miffed. “Was this all about that stupid game to you?”

Alix bristled, shifting her body so she was raised on her forearms, looking down at Chloé. “No. It wasn’t.”

Chloé laughed humorlessly. “Then what are we going to do?”

“Whatever we want to do. It’s not like there’s some rule saying something has to happen.”

Chloé’s lips flicked down.

“But, something could happen. If we wanted it too,” Alix was quick to add, trying to force her cheeks to belie her embarrassment. “Do you…want something to happen?” she asked gently.

“That felt…amazing. And if there’s one thing I am not in the business of, it’s denying myself amazing things.”

Alix groaned. “You need to just give me a straight yes or no.”

“I don’t know!”

“You’re a lot more indecisive than I thought you were.”

Chloé turned her head away, annoyed at Alix’s presumptions. “It’s not like you really knew me all that well to begin with.”

Alix tapped a finger to her chin. She supposed that was true, thinking back on all the times she had written Chloé off as a spoiled princess, incapable of being denied anything she wanted. Those memories no longer felt justified. Chloé proved to be more complex than Alix had ever thought, and she felt a deep pang in her gut for not noticing until now how her confidence was only used to shield her uncertainty.

Alix didn’t know a lot about Chloé Bourgeois. But she couldn’t deny her newfound urge to learn.

“Maybe we should change that.”

Chloé sat up and a genuine smile brightened her face for the first time Alix could recall. Alix stood up, holding out a hand to pull Chloé to her feet. They walked to the doors and peered out into the dark night. The rain had dwindled, only a soft plinking against the puddles that coated the ground, and no thunder forced them back inside the safety of Notre Dame.

Alix took the first step out into the cold air and almost missed Chloé’s soft words behind her.

“Yeah, maybe we should.”

[scarletsaphire]

Klance Week Day 2: Sacrifice

I'm positive this prompt was meant to be angsty, but I wasn't in the mood for angst. Instead, you get this terribly written 2100 word fic. Not happy with the ending, and the Klance aspect of it feels rather forced an is severely lacking, but whatever. Enjoy. “Thank you! Thank you, great Paladins, of Voltron!” the crowd cheered out. The Paladins were all gathered in a group in what appeared to be a city, even though the tallest buildings were only as tall as Pidge. When scaled to the residents, who appeared to be tiny bright pink koala creatures with pincers instead of a mouth, it was a very spacious area. They had received a distress signal from the planet and had rather easily taken down the Galra that were positioned there, since it was on the edge of their claim: They had all headed here to make sure that no one was injured, but had been quickly surrounded by the cheering koala creatures. “Now our gods must test you to be worthy!” The gang looked at each other, confused at this, but Allura, who had accompanied the group to talk politics with whoever was the leader, nodded her head. "I assume that this is a tradition, and we shall honour it while we are here,” she said. She had had to do traditional things before talking with other species before too, so this wasn’t to odd for her. The Paladins were more surprised at the phrasing of it than anything. One of the koala creatures emerged from the crowd. In his pincers, he held six sticks, all seemingly identical to one another. He stood in the middle of the group, stood on his hind legs, and gestured for them to stand around him in a circle with his front paws. The Paladins complied, and the alien flung his head into the air, flinging the sticks a good distance into the air above its head, around one and a half feet. They landed on the ground just like normal sticks would, in patterns depending on their initial starting point, velocity, etc. The alien in the middle of the circle bent down to look closely at the sticks, making his way around the circle on all fours. After a few minutes of a dead silent crowd and fidgety Paladins, the alien stood up again and pointed towards Keith and Lance. “They have been deemed unworthy! They must pay for disgracing our gods’ land with their presence! Begin the preparations!” the alien called out. The entire crowd charged before any of the Paladins could react, knocking Keith and Lance down and sweeping them away like a wave and manoeuvring around the others. The creatures were surprisingly strong, or maybe it was just their numbers, but they had no trouble carrying them away. Hunk blinked at the place where the crowd used to stand, which was now completely barren. “What just happened?” he asked. Lance had no idea what was happening. One moment, he was being showered in cheers by the (slightly creepy) newly-freed aliens, and the next he was being swept away by said aliens with Keith. They both tried to steady themselves a few times but got knocked down almost immediately. When they could stand up, they found that they had both been put into a cage of the creatures hides, all tied together to make the structure that they were both currently stuck in. Lance spun around to try and get out but found that the door, which was also made of the hides, was shut. “Um, little guys, what are you doing?” Lance asked the aliens that had begun to leave the area. One of them turned around and responded. “Our gods have declared you unworthy to walk on this planet. You must apologize for you mistakes by sacrificing your lives to them!” it said in a very chipper voice before leaving. “But we just saved you guys!” Lance said, his voice raising in the middle. "They made a cage out of their skin, and didn’t even disarm us. Getting out of here will be a cinch,” Keith said with a shrug as he activated his Bayard and slashed at the skins closest to him. When the sword came into contact with the hides, instead of cutting through them like they were both expecting, his sword bounced off. He stumbled back, surprised at the retaliation, and tried again with the same results. “Can’t even cut through some decaying leather, huh?” Lance said, turning this into a game like he normally did when Keith was involved and he didn’t think that the situation was too serious. “Well, let me show you how it’s done.” He activated his Bayard and fired a shot at the skin, but the energy blast vanished once it met the sides. “Well, that’s unexpected.” They continued to attack the edges for a few minutes, but didn’t make a dent in it. Finally, after realizing that it was pointless, they activated the coms in their helmets to contact the rest of the gang. “Lance! Keith! Where are you guys? Where did the beetle koalas take you?” Hunk said as soon as Lance started to talk. “We’re in a cage made of their skins. They say that they want to sacrifice us to their gods or something,” Lance said, recapping the tiny bit of information that he had learned. “Did they take your weapons?” Shiro asked. “No, but we can’t seem to cut or blast through. We don’t know why,” Keith answered this time. Coran, who was still in the castle, began to talk. “I’ve been researching the inhabitants of this planet. Turns out their called Ursocills, and that they have impenetrable skin,” he offered as an explanation. “So you’re saying we need to find another way through?” Keith asked for clarification, but Lance just gave him a look. “Duh. I don’t know what you’re planning on doing, but I’m not going to wait around to either be rescued like a princess or be sacrificed to some odd gods. I’m going to escape,” he said in his normal fashion of egging Keith on. “Guys, try to get along, at least until you get out,” Shiro reprimanded. Lance and Keith glared at each other, but both grudgingly agreed. “Good to hear. We’re going to try and find you, but something about this planet is messing with the tracking system, so it might take a while. You two keep trying to get out. We’ve gotten through worse messes than this.” With that said, the coms went quiet from everyone. Lance began to fiddle with the walls, trying to separate the skins from each other, and Keith went to fiddling with the door. Around half an hour passed, and no progress was made. What appeared to be rainclouds began to cover the sky, and Keith and Lance had stopped messing with the cage. “I’m guessing you had no luck separating them?” Keith asked, though he already knew the answer. Lance sighed. “They’re attached by some kind of glue or something. I can’t pull them apart,” he said. “What about the door?” “The lock isn’t an actual lock. It’s a rope tied to the tree behind us,” Keith said, gesturing to a tree that had a line of the dead alien carcasses draw taught to the cage door. “The only way to open it is to break that rope, which isn’t an option, or untie it from the tree, which we can’t reach.” Lance slid down to the ground, his legs in front of him. “Guess we’ll just have to wait here for the others, huh?” he said rather dejectedly. “Yeah,” Keith said as he sat down with his back pressed against Lance’s. “Speaking of which…” he activated his com again to check up on the others. “How is it going?” he asked. A few moments of silence followed. “Magnet…clouds…com,” someone, probably Pidge said. Even though most of it was cut out, but the meaning was still relatively clear. “Great,” Lance said. “I’m stuck in a cage with the most annoying person in the universe, about to be sacrificed to some alien race’s deities, and some stupid magnetic clouds are blocking the coms, so I can’t even talk with anyone cool.” “Trust me, you’re far more annoying than I am,” Keith rebutted. “Am not.” “Are too.” “Am not.” “Are too.” “Am not!” “Fine,” Keith said, not feeling up to an argument right now. “You’re gonna concede just like that?” Lance asked, a slight pout on his face even though Keith couldn’t see it. “Don’t feel up to it right now,” Keith simply said. While he had escaped from the previous battle almost completely unscathed, he was rather tired. “But I’m bored,” Lance whined. “And our little fights are entertaining.” “Are you saying you enjoy my company?” Keith asked. “Well, you’re not too bad, I guess,” Lance said. “I would much prefer to be in this situation with Allura, though. But I guess it’s not terrible.” Keith hummed as an answer, and leaned back against Lance’s head, his eyes closed. “You’re not that bad either.” Everything was quiet and still besides the occasional passing of one of the Ursocill, until a soft rumbling sound broke the silence. Lance, who had been lost in his thoughts, jumped slightly at this. He looked around for the source, and got his answer when Keith’s limp head fell on his shoulder. He smiled to himself slightly, and let his head fall into his lap. He wouldn’t want him to be all sore when he wakes up, especially since they might need to run from a stampede of Ursocills. He laid back slightly, using his arms for support, and started studying the features of Keith’s face when they were so relaxed, which was a rare state for him to be in. His eyes were closed, and his mouth was open ever so slightly. His hair was draped over his cheek and a bit of his eye, and his arms were pulled up into his chest, his fingers slightly curled. Lance had to admit, Keith was attractive, even with the mullet. His fingers began to absentmindedly play with his hair as he went back to thinking. An hour later, another one of the Ursocill came, but this one approached the cage, unlike the others, who had just walked past, doing whatever it was that they needed to do. “Paladins,” the Ursocill whispered to them from the front of the cage. Lance, who wouldn’t have noticed it otherwise, met its eyes, and began to shake Keith. “Wha…” Keith said, blinking his eyes open and looking around. “Oh. I’m still here.” “Paladins, would you like to be set free?” the Ursocill at the door whispered to them. “Yes!” Lance said, his eyes lighting up slightly. “Unless that means being taken to the sacrificial site or whatever. Then no.” “I will release you from the cage and lead you back to your ships on one condition,” the Ursocill said. “What’s that?” Keith asked, sitting himself up, seemingly not noticing the fact that he had just been using Lance as a pillow. “You take my child to a faraway planet where she’ll be cared for,” the Ursocill said. “Okay,” Lance agreed almost immediately. “But…why?” The Ursocill began to make its way to the tree that the corpse rope was tied too, and used her pincers to untie it, letting the door swing open, before making her way back and answering. “She’s different from the rest of us. The priests don’t like that. They’re planning on sacrificing her today, with you two. But I won’t let that happen.” She began to make her way in a direction that Keith and Lance assumed was towards their lions, so they followed. They walked in complete silence, only having to hide from other Ursocills twice, before they made it to Red and Blue. “Thank you for this,” Lance said. The Ursocill seemed to nod, before standing on her hind legs, revealing a pouch on her stomach with a little purple Ursocill in it. “Take her, and hurry away from here.” Lance hesitated. “You could come to, you know,” Lance said. He hated the idea of separating a family, even if it was by their request. “If I was to disappear, they’ll kill everyone in my family. The priests trust me, and will believe me if I say that you took her by force, or that she had stumbled into your boot and accidentally got brought along. It’s safer this way.” Lance reluctantly took the tiny one-inch Ursocill from the pouch and cradled it delicately in his hand. “Now, hurry! Get out of here!” the Ursocill said. It took one last look at its child before scampering into some nearby brush. Lance and Keith got onto their respective lions, and flew off. “Guys?” Lance said through the coms after he had secured the baby Ursocill and taken off, Keith not far behind him. “Lance? Are the coms back on?” Pidge asked, sounding relieved and surprised. “Yep. We got help escaping, and are on our way back to the castle,” Lance said. “We’re also bringing back a tiny Ursocill