#Aspen close your eyes and slowly breathe in counts of four

[odeggy]

doodle day 13/365

i watched Danny Gonzalez today

[gaypiece]

Another Life; Ch 2

Part 2 of my OP isekai bullshit daydream! I am always open to feedback!!! I’m half asleep posting this so i may come back and edit cws and description

Ch1 // Ch3

Chapter 2: The Surgeon of Death

☁︎ word count: 3.5k

☁︎cw: named self insert, bit of anxiety

︶꒦꒷♡꒷꒦︶

Consciousness came back to me slowly. I was vaguely aware of a steady beeping sound nearby. This confused me. I was sure I had died, and I didn’t think the afterlife would sound like a hospital. My eyes fluttered, cracking open lethargically. The lights above me were bright, and I could tell that I was indoors somewhere. My head turned to the sound of the beeping, silently rejoicing the fact that I was able to move again. There was a monitor to my left, displaying my heart rate and other information my foggy brain didn’t care to make sense of.

”Good, you’re awake.”

I would have jumped in surprise, had I not been so sluggish. But, did I know that voice? I turned to find the source. He stood with his back to me, writing something on a clipboard. The hat he wore. . .

He turned to me then, and my stomach dropped. No fucking way. What kind of Isekai bullshit. . .?

”You’re lucky we found you when we did. What were you thinking, eating that fruit?” He must have noticed the way I paled, and my jump in heart rate. He added, “No need to be afraid, you’re safe,” though, his golden eyes seemed almost as cautious as I was.

I closed my eyes, trying to control my breathing. “I-I’m not— you don’t understand.”

“You’re right, I don’t,” he muttered. He turned away from me again, setting the clipboard down.

I laughed once, humorlessly. “At least I’m not the only one who’s confused.” I ran my hands over my face in my distress. I kept my face covered as I tried to remember my breathing exercises: in four seconds, hold four seconds. Out four seconds, hold four seconds. Repeat.

He seemed to realize what I was doing, not speaking as I tried to calm myself. Once my heart slowed, I removed my hands from my face and tried to sit. My head swam.

He reached a hand out to me, as if to steady me, but didn’t touch me. “Take it easy, you’ve been out for a while. We don’t need you passing out again.”

”How long?” I asked.

”We found you two days ago.”

Two days. That makes five since I woke up on that forest floor. If I weren’t incapacitated for most of it, the time might have been enough to convince me this was real.

”I never got your name,” he stated, interrupting my thoughts.

”Rain. Aspen Rain.”

”Trafalgar Law.”

My heart jumped again. “I know.”

”I thought so, given your reaction to seeing me.”

I laughed again. “You don’t know the half of it.”

He studied me a moment, still cautious.

”Why did you help me?” I asked suddenly. I knew his character well enough to know that Law wasn’t exactly the hero type. Not that type to go out of the way to help a random person unless there was some benefit to him.

My question caught him off guard. He looked away again, fumbling to respond at first. “We came to the island looking for that fruit you ate. I wanted to study its paralytic properties for possible medical use in the future, and reverse engineer an antidote that might work for other, similar situations. You could imagine my surprise when we arrived to find someone poisoned by exactly the fruit I was looking for. You were a convenient test subject.” I nodded along as he explained. Of course, saving me was a convenience, but it almost sounded like an excuse. He may have been able to perform whatever tests he needed even if I wasn’t alive for it. “You know,” he turned to me once more, “you could have eaten any other fruit on that island and been fine. You’re lucky someone with my capabilities found you. Or that anyone found you at all, for that matter.”

“Lucky me,” I muttered, “eating the only poisonous fruit on the whole damned island.”

He almost cracked a smile. ”What were you doing there anyway?”

I stared at him, unsure if he truly wanted to know about the strange situation. Deciding I had nothing to lose, I told him, “I don’t know.”

His brow furrowed. “What do you mean, you ‘don’t know’?”

“I mean,” I took a deep breath, “I fell asleep in my bed, at home, and woke up on a forest floor with nothing to my name, and not even a hint of a soul around.” My voice rose as I spoke, nearing hysterics. “Not to mention, I went to sleep a normal human being, and woke up with fucking cat ears.” I made a vague gesture at my head for more emphasis.

”And tail,” he noted. “I can see now why you’re so confused.”

”I have a tail??” I couldn’t stop the laugh that erupted out of me. “This is insane,” I giggled. “I’m going insane.”

”I’m sure there’s a logical explanation for all of this.” He seemed to be reassuring himself more than me.

I tried to collect myself, breathing deeply again. Once I could control my voice, I said, “I haven’t even told you the craziest part yet.”

He looked even more apprehensive now. “Tell me.” He pulled a chair to the end of the hospital bed and sat, facing me. Good. He would need to be sitting for this.

Once again, I took a deep breath, closing my eyes and trying to steady myself. “What if I told you,” I began, “you’re not supposed to be real? What if I told you that I know of you not just as a pirate captain and former warlord, but as a character from my favorite TV show?”

He stared at me blankly, almost as if he was waiting for me to say I was joking. When I didn’t, he told me, “You’re insane.”

“That’s the conclusion I came to as well, and exactly how I expected you to respond.” My tone was resigned.

His tattooed hand came to pinch the bridge of his nose. He seemed to be collecting himself. Wondering just what the hell he got himself into by rescuing me, I figured. Suddenly, Law stood, pulling on a pair of medical gloves and beginning to disconnect the wires and tubes attached to me. He spoke as he moved. “I have some things to tend to. I’m going to have someone bring you some food and show you to the showers so you can get cleaned up. Then we’ll decide what to do with you.” He refused to meet my eyes. “Hold still, this will probably be uncomfortable.” He quickly and efficiently removed a feeding tube from my nose, wordlessly handing me a tissue afterward.

I remained still and silent as he worked over me, trying to ignore the way my heart thudded on the occasion his gloved fingers brushed against my skin.

He didn’t speak again as he gathered a few things and headed toward the door. He turned to me then, but still didn’t meet my gaze. “Someone will be in shortly. Just. . . don’t say anything crazy to them.” He waited for my nod, then the door closed with a soft click.

As soon as I was alone, I curled myself into a ball, wrapping my arms around myself for some sense of security in this foreign place. I was unable to stop the tears that welled up, lost and confused as I was. What was happening, and why? It’s one thing to wake up in a strange place, but entirely different to wake up in a different world. Why did this happen? Why the world of my favorite anime? And why, out of every possible person, did it have to be my fictional crush from this universe to find me? There were too many questions buzzing around in my head, questions that I didn’t have answers to.

I wondered if my world went on without me, or was it frozen in time? Perhaps I had died and this was some bizarre afterlife. I wondered if I had simply disappeared, just as I seemingly appeared here. Would my fiancé search for me? Would my family? How was I going to get back? What if I never did? My stomach dropped.

As I deliberated, the door reopened and someone entered the room, prompting me to quickly dry my eyes. I recognized my visitor as Ikkaku, the only female member of Law’s crew. I didn’t know much about her, and wasn’t sure what to expect of her personality. She wheeled a cart in after her, which held two plates of steaming food and a pitcher of water. The smell of the food had my mouth watering, tastebuds restless after not eating for so long.

“You have some timing,” she stated as our eyes met. “Lunch was just about to be served when the captain asked me to bring you food.” She stopped the cart at my bedside, moving the chair which Law previously sat in to the other side. “I’m Ikkaku, by the way,” she informed me as she took her seat, facing me. “What should I call you?”

”Rain,” I said. “Or Aspen. Either is fine.”

She asked, “What do your friends call you?”

”Rain.”

“Rain it is.” She grinned at me before digging into one of the plates upon the cart.

I hesitated, shy.

”It’s not poisoned,” Ikkaku teased.

Her bubbly nature softened my reserve. With the slightest smile, I scooted toward the edge of the bed where the cart sat. Timid as ever, I didn’t meet Ikkaku’s eyes as I reached for the water pitcher, filling both of our glasses. She thanked me cheerfully before taking a sip. I mirrored her, relishing the taste of the cold, refreshing water. I didn’t realize just how thirsty I was, quickly emptying my glass. I immediately refilled it, only to empty it halfway again.

”Slow down,” Ikkaku warned. “You don’t want to make yourself sick.”

I obeyed, studying my plate as I gave myself time to breathe. It was some kind of stir fried noodle dish, nothing elaborate. Still, I salivated. I was unable to make myself wait very long before digging in. I gave an appreciative hum as I chewed, it was an effort not to moan instead. Maybe it was the fact that I just almost starved to death, but nothing had ever tasted better.

”Oh, come on,” Ikkaku scoffed. “Uni’s cooking isn’t that good.”

I spoke with my mouth half full. “I almost starved to death, give me a break,” I half-joked.

She laughed, and I found it difficult not to return her smile. I decided I could get along with Ikkaku.

”So,” she began, sipping at her water again, “does the captain know you from somewhere?”

I paused in surprise and confusion. “I . . . don’t think so, why do you ask?”

“I’ve never seen him so quick to save a stranger,” she mused, “except for that Straw Hat at Marineford.”

“Um. . . Well, he did tell me that he was trying to make an antidote for the poison of the fruit I ate.”

”Coincidence,” Ikkaku contradicted. “He didn’t know you were poisoned when we found you, but insisted on helping you the moment he saw you.”

”Huh.” So it was an excuse. But why would he have wanted to help me so badly? “No, we’ve never met before. I’m not sure why he would do that.”

“Well, as out of character as it might’ve been for him, I’m not one to question my captain. I’m sure he had his reasons.”

I hummed in agreement, chewing my food slowly as I mulled over the possibilities. Nothing I could come up with seemed logical. I could see that Ikkaku had more questions, but neither of us spoke again as we finished eating.

Ikkaku stood once both of our plates were empty. “Now! Let’s get you a shower!”

I followed her quietly as she led me through the hallways of the Polar Tang. She briefly stopped at a closet, pulling out a boiler suit like hers, and holding it up to me to judge the size. She explained that it was the only clothing she could offer me to change into. I took it gladly, thankful to have clean clothes after being stuck in the same outfit for days. Ikkaku then led me to the showers, leaving me at the door. She explained where I could find the soap and towels, then told me that she would be waiting on the other side of the door once I was done, and to let her know if I needed anything. I was grateful for the time alone, locking the door behind me as a precaution.

As I looked in the mirror, I was almost surprised to see that I was still me. I looked a bit thinner, maybe, along with some other changes, but I was still the same Rain. My eyes were the same hazel they had always been, but I now had slits for pupils. This almost explained my improved vision. Cat eyes to go with my cat ears. And tail. Ugh. I could see it flicking behind me in annoyance. It was black, as were my new ears. My hair, which had previously been dyed pastel pink, my natural dark brown showing at the roots, now seemed to grow naturally pink. Weird. I noticed that half of my face was bright red, I assumed from the sunburn. Though, it looked as if it was medicated while I was unconscious. That was going to be a fun tan line. I shook my head in annoyance, tail still flicking, as I headed to the shower.

Ikkaku smiled at me brightly once I emerged from the room, freshened up and ready to go. The boiler suit was a tad long on me, and I had to roll up the sleeves and pant legs to accommodate my short limbs. There was no hole for my tail to come out of in the back, so it was stuffed into the suit with the rest of my body. It was uncomfortable, and grew even more so as I walked, following Ikkaku to our next destination. I made a note to myself to modify it if I had to continue wearing it. Ikkaku chittered as we walked, talking about the other crew members, explaining that they were doing chores, which was why we weren’t seeing them. I wasn’t listening, really. I was anxious to find out how Law wanted to deal with me.

Ikkaku stopped to knock on a door, and waited for permission to enter. My heart skipped a beat when Law’s voice said, “Come in,” from the other side, and Ikkaku opened the door, allowing me to enter first. I stepped into what appeared to be Law’s office. The walls were lined with shelf after shelf of books. There seemed to be only two areas on the wall not containing books: another door, which I guessed led to Law’s bedroom, and a little alcove nestled into the shelves, containing a cushioned bench and a window, through which I could see that we were still at the island where I woke up. Taking up almost half of the space of the room was a large, disorganized desk, facing the doorway I entered from. At this desk was where Law sat, thoughtful eyes trained on me from the moment I had entered.

Ikkaku was about to follow me in, when Law said, “You can go, Ikkaku.”

“Right!” Ikkaku responded, turning on her heel.

”Close the door before you go.”

She hesitated the slightest bit, eyeing me with concern. “Good luck,” she whispered to me before shutting the door.

”Have a seat,” Law ordered, nodding to the chairs in front of his desk. I obeyed silently. “You have two options,” he told me. “You can stay here, where we found you—“

”Pass.”

He paused at my interruption, giving me a disapproving look. “Or,” he continued, “we can drop you at the next island we stop at, provided it’s not deserted.”

I considered the idea, but where would I go? Was I to just start a new life in this world that I didn’t belong in? Would I be able to? How would I find my way home? Then, an idea occurred to me.

”Can I join your crew?”

He eyed me suspiciously. “That wasn’t an option.”

”I don’t like the options you gave me. It’s called ‘negotiation’.”

Raising a brow, he said, “Give me one reason why I would want you on my crew.”

I sighed. “I know you think I’m crazy, but I can show you that I’m not. At least, not entirely. I’m still trying to figure out what the hell’s going on, myself, but I won’t ask you to help me. Just let me stay, and I can be useful.” I looked into his eyes then, a strenuous task for me, given my shyness and Law’s intimidating aura. My tone was almost pleading. “I have nowhere to go. I know that you know what that’s like.”

His eyes softened just slightly, but he didn’t seem to like the use of reverse psychology. “How would you know that?”

”Believe it or not, I know a lot about you, Trafalgar. Things your crew might not even know. Don’t forget where I told you I know about you from.”

He seemed irked that I would bring it up again, and his tone was skeptical as he humored me. “What exactly do you know about me?”

I took a deep breath as I prepared to state everything I knew about this man. “Trafalgar D. Water Law, also known as The Surgeon of Death, wielder of the Ope Ope no Mi Devil Fruit ability, captain of the Heart Pirates, former Warlord of the Sea, a title you obtained by delivering the hearts of one hundred pirates to the world government.” He seemed almost unfazed as I rattled off the basic information, only reacting when I said the “D” in his name. “Born October sixth, you are twenty-six years old, a Libra, six feet and three inches tall, blood type F. You were born in a country called Flevance, located in the North Blue, nicknamed ‘White Town’ after the White Lead that was mined there.” His face began to pale. “You lived there with your younger sister and your parents, who were doctors and trained you and your sister to be as well. For this reason, the Ope Ope no Mi Devil Fruit was an excellent fit for you.” I averted my eyes. “For your sake, I won’t get into the details of how you came across the devil fruit. I assume it’s a touchy subject.” When I glanced back up at Law, the look he was giving me was deadly. “Do I need to continue?”

”How do you know all of that?”

”I already told you how I know.” I folded my arms across my chest.

He stared me down. Though my cheeks burned, I gave him an unwavering look of my own.

“How do I know that I can trust you?” Still suspicious.

”You don’t, I suppose. But I’ve been completely honest with you this whole time. I have no reason to lie, and nothing to lose. All I’m asking for is a place to stay for the time being. If you don’t trust me, take my heart if it will give you some peace of mind.”

”Keep your heart.” He almost seemed like he was starting to believe me. “Tell me about this . . . TV show.”

“It’s called ‘One Piece’ and it follows Straw Hat Luffy’s journey to become Pirate King . . .” I continued, explaining only relevant details, such as the places the Straw Hats had visited, where I was in the story, and the differences between this world and the one I came from. Occasionally, he would ask for more details, and I would give them to him, surprising myself with how much I remembered. He seemed more convinced with each detail I gave him of my world. His eyes didn’t leave me the entire time I spoke, and when I finished, he continued his piercing gaze, seeming contemplative. This time, I found it difficult to stare back, shying away from his intense look. I was grateful when he spoke before I started blushing again.

”You said that you can be useful. How?”

”Umm . . . I would probably be most useful in the kitchen. I’m a decent cook, but I’m more of a baker. I suppose that comes with the territory of the family name.” I chuckled slightly at my joke. “Other than that, I’m pretty good at tinkering and fixing things, anything involving creativity, really. I’m probably no good in a fight right now, but I can train. And I am a quick study, if there’s anything else you may want me to do.”

He stared at me a few more moments before he sighed, seeming to give in. “Just to be clear,” he began, “I still think you’re insane. However, you seem trustworthy enough, and you’re right.” His gaze softened. “I won’t leave you with nowhere to go.”

”So . . .?”

”So,” he repeated, pausing as he hesitated, “welcome to the Heart Pirates.”

I could have cried with the relief I felt. I had somewhere to stay. “Thank you,” I breathed, hanging my head.

”I will be keeping an eye on you though,” he warned. “Don’t make me regret this.”

”I promise, I’ll do my very best.”

He stood. “Come with me. I’ll show you to your quarters.”

︶꒦꒷♡꒷꒦︶

[blog-sliverofjade]

Of Doms & Subs 5: Field Trip

Pairing: Angus Hopper x OFC

Summary:  What's a submissive female to do when she fights her nature and goes on the run as a Lone wolf to avoid being assimilated into a pack?

Word count: 1896

Of Doms & Subs Master List

“Don’t feel guilty, think of it as a bribe,” Mickayla said when she’d told me we were going shopping and I was to leave my wallet behind.  I stared at her.  “Think of trying out packs as like dating.  This is a date at a fine restaurant with a dozen roses,” she explained.  “And just like dates are a way for potential mates to prove they can provide, this is how we prove that we can take care of our members.”

“It sounds more like you’re looking for an excuse to go shopping,” I said dryly.  “But you’ll harass me until I give in, so ok.”

“You already know her so well,” Matt said with a hint of a smirk.  She elbowed him in the ribs and she only put up a token struggle when he wrapped her up in his arms.  I looked away.  The whole pack seemed to be much more touchy-feely than I was comfortable with.

“Meh, I’d go for another five minutes, tops, before I pulled the Dommy voice on you.”  She tossed her head so that Matt momentarily ended up with a face full of her hair.

“Dommy voice?”

“Dominant and mommy.  Dommy,” Matt explained, nuzzling his wife’s hair.

“Oh.”  I hid my blush by turning to shrug into my jacket.  Don’t ask if you don’t wanna know the answer.

The first stop was Pike Place Market, which was already packed despite the early hour.  Matt led the way to plow a path for us through the crowd with Mickayla following him so that all I could see was her curtain of golden hair and perky butt.  Shane was on my heels, but not so close that he was breathing down my neck.  None of the others had wanted to go shopping, preferring instead to play video games.  Some things stay the same no matter the species.

I normally treat shopping like I imagine Navy SEALs treat missions: get in, get target, and get out ASAP.  Mickayla obviously did not subscribe to this philosophy.  Most of the items we had acquired so far were for her.  I was too busy trying to ignore the din and overwhelming aromas invading my senses.  My wolf also wanted to snap at every stranger who bumped into us, which thankfully was only once or twice.  Most people took one look at my companions and steered a wide berth.

We were climbing a stairway that seemed to narrow even further and the low ceiling felt like it was pressing down on my head.  I swayed on the edge of the stair as the wolf surged up, tearing at me, wanting to run from the mass of consumers.  Pain rippled along my skin and burst like spikes in my joints until I nearly fell backward until Shane stepped forward until his firm chest allowed me to lean against him.  An instant later, Matt and Mickayla flanked me, forcing the flow of shoppers to part around the island that we made.

Normally I didn’t like people touching me.  Certainly not people I’d known less than a day and not so close as this.  But I relaxed into the warmth and comfort of their bodies.  Their combined scent surrounded me like a warm, familiar blanket.  No one said anything.  They didn’t have to.  Their eyes all had the same look of understanding.  My whole body felt raw.  If I had shifted in the middle of Pike’s Place on Labor Day weekend…

“Reason number four why packs are awesome: dominants can help when you’re about to lose it,” Mickayla said gently, having seen the panic on my face.  She slipped her arm through mine in what was becoming a familiar gesture.  “Let’s head some place a little quieter.”

The weather was a bit too grey and windy for anyone other than locals and werewolves, so we had the waterfront mostly to ourselves as we sipped hot drinks from the first Starbucks location.  The movement helped ease the need to run and calm my wolf.  After a while, Mickayla paused to check that a bench was dry before sitting and patting the spot next to her.  The men wandered a little way upwind, arguing about the game last night.

“Ok fine, you made your point,” I sighed and sank down next to her.  “What was it this time, how long I’d last before going furry?”

“Not on this one,” she shook her head and immediately had to pick strands of hair out of her mouth when the wind caught it.  “But that’s not the question you should be asking.”

I thought about that for a minute.  “What would’ve happened if ya’ll hadn’t been there.”  It was a statement, not a question.  She gave it time for the full implications of that sink in.

“You’re not used to having to rely on others.  Not since the divorce.”  I glared at her out of the corner of my eye.  I did not like being psychoanalyzed at the best of times.  This was certainly not one.

“Gee, doc, are ya gonna tell me that I use sarcasm as a defense mechanism, too?”

“If you’re so self-aware, pup, then why did we have to have this little exercise?”  She bumped my shoulder firmly with her own.

“Because you can tell a kid something’s hot, but won’t believe you till they touch it.”  I slumped down further on the bench.

“Head of the class,” she saluted me with her coffee.

“Don’t make me bite you” I grumped.

“Talk like that’ll earn you a spot as teacher’s pet,” she winked.  I groaned and shook my head at the pun before taking a sip of my drink.  It was something fancy, “full of sugar and cream and calories, everything a growing pup needs” as Mickayla had put it when she’d ordered.  Having a dominant around to step in and order was pretty nice when I was intimidated by the menu with its foreign terms and still too rattled to think straight.

“Speaking of petting.”  Mickayla laughed at the segue.  “John said that unmated females belong to the Alpha.”  That whole sentence tasted like rotten lemons, which fanned the embers of my dormant anger.  “Shit, is that the reason unmated females are second class citizens?  So we’re basically whores for the Alpha because we have no other choice?  If I won’t fuck Angus then I’m delivered to Eugene with a pretty bow?  Montana’s, what, a ‘re-education centre’ if I don’t put out?”

“Montana’s for new wolves, those who can’t control their wolf, and those who need to heal,” she said firmly.  “If you don’t want to move here or to Eugene, you can stay in Aspen Creek until you find a place and a pack you do like.  As for being second class citizens, it used to be that females couldn’t participate in dominance challenges and gained status through their mate.  While that seems to be slowly changing, it doesn’t necessarily mean that you won’t be treated with respect.”

“Since I couldn’t care less about kicking butt and taking responsibility, I don’t have to worry about that, which is why I’m considered submissive in the first place,” I said with dawning comprehension.

“See, Ian was wrong, you can be taught!” Mickayla laughed with a wink.

“But what about the other… thing?”

“Wolves are very possessive,” she said slowly, as if having difficulty translating her thoughts into words.  “It’s supposed to be a way to protect the women, sometimes from unwanted attention from their packmates.  Some Alphas may take advantage of what’s meant to be a protective role, in much the same way some college professors tend to go after undergrads.”

“Are there many Alphas like that?”  I had a gut feeling that Angus was not like that, but then again, mama always said that my “picker” when it came to men was broken.

“Rape is not condoned, but since it’s not been a problem here, that’s something you would have to ask Angus, Matt, or Tom about if you’re thinking of going elsewhere.  Here, they have to answer to Angus.  If any of them so much as even make you uncomfortable he’ll have their balls in a sling because you don’t have a mate to protect you.  They all know that Matt would use their skull as a soup bowl if they so much as looked at me funny.”

Her scent had changed subtly with an almost salty quality that had nothing to do with the sea air.  She looked down with amusement at me as I sniffed her arm.  “You’re learning how to smell a lie!  About the soup bowl anyway, you don’t keep evidence lying around.  Good girl,” she said teasingly and petted my hair.  I mock growled without meeting her eyes.  She tapped my nose with a finger.  “Bad pup, no cookie.”  I straightened from my slouch with a laugh.  “Come on, let’s hit a couple of stores that’ll be quieter than tourist trap central.”

“Do I have to?” I asked tiredly.

“Sweetie,” she slung an arm around my shoulders.  “Your pants would be falling off if you didn’t have that belt tightened within an inch of its life.  I think you might have even managed to put a pleat or two in it like that, not a good look.  You need clothes that fit your new body.”  She plucked at my jacket, which tented around me before settling again.  I wasn’t necessarily fat before, but I certainly had carried more than a few extra pounds.  Two weeks in the backcountry had fixed that.  Oh, and becoming a werewolf helped, too.  I groaned in defeat and at the thought of more crowds.

Mickayla returned triumphant from the hunt, seemingly having gained the energy that the new wolf appeared to have lost.  Ellie quickly fled to her room with several large, bulging shopping bags.

“How went the great experiment?” I asked far more calmly than I felt.

“Took it like a champ, boss,” Shane answered while still untying his boots.  “Lasted ninety minutes.”

“I was ready to call it at an hour myself,” muttered Matt.  “Shrieking kids.”  We all winced in empathy.

“I’m thinking that John was doing his best to keep her isolated,” Mickayla frowned.

“Do you think he wanted her for a mate?”  My wolf paced in agitation.  He wanted to taste this John’s blood under our fangs.

“Not The Hills Have Eyes, but barefoot and not-pregnant in the kitchen…”  she grimaced.  I felt my eyes shift to gold then back as I struggled to convince my wolf that there was nothing here for us to rend.  “He told her about unmated females being under the protection of the Alpha, and led her to believe that it’s exploitive in nature,” she continued once I calmed.

“I see, thank you, Mickayla.”  I turned on my heel and retreated to my office to make a call.  Once the door was shut, it was virtually soundproofed against werewolves.  It’s good to be the king of tech.

“I’m afraid that I don’t have any news yet, Angus,” Bran said with faint amusement by way of greeting.

“I’m afraid that I do,” I said and conveyed Mickayla’s impressions of the situation.

“And you can’t question her directly without scaring her into running.”  I could readily picture him pinching the bridge of his nose in irritation.  “Thank you.  Keep me apprised.”

[titan-mom]

not to be extremely predictable but 🎄 i took a little journey to the unknown

Every time I hear this song I think of my paladin singing it in duet with her goddess so, something about her, and the kind of people she meets in the woods at night!

-

Aspen’s got a fire roaring, banked against carefully piled stones. It’s rare she finds such a nice place to make camp. Her tent behind her is hung from a limb coaxed down from the cedar boughs above, and anchored with subtle vines summoned up from the earth below. Her bedroll is cushioned by the needle-covered ground, the forest damp but not too damp for good crackling kindling. A pinecone here and there to add a little pop to the fire.

She has a kettle on, and is working on crushing freshly plucked needles for tea, when an awareness rises up her spine and into the small of her skull. Sehncia, restless and aware in the confines of her mind, takes her attention and angles it south-southeast. It feels like a hand cupping her cheek, delicate and gentle.

Danger? Aspen asks, quickly.

Single man, armed, but looks more hungry than aggressive to me. Sehncia replies. You could take him.

Aspen’s glaive lays at her side, and her breastplate in the tent behind her. She makes no move for either yet. Instead, she finds her waterskin and pours what’s left into the wooden bowl at her feet. The runes glow softly and dissipate, as the water turns to soup. She ate tonight already, but it appears she will have a guest, and she likes to have a well stocked arsenal for these sorts of meetings.

She can hear the footsteps now, quiet on the ground. He’s not bad at moving stealthily, but she knows what she is listening for, and which way to turn her head to hear it better.

The vagabond is dirty, ratty, but has nice gloves and solid boots and a heavy coin purse. She notices his small traveling pack and a short city cloak, it looks as though he is not prepared for a night in the wild. The firelight glistens in his eyes as he emerges, drawn like a moth to the blaze. He gauges her and the weapon in reach, but sees her satchel and guitar at her side, and raises his knife as a threat. “No sudden movements, lass.”

She lifts her head calmly to meet his eye. Surprisingly, it does not unsettle him right away. Usually her calm demeanor sets off the cleverest highwaymen. They put together the pieces and decide a girl alone in the woods who does not startle at the sight of a man with a weapon is an anomaly not worth challenging. Especially one dressed as plainly as she is, one who doesn’t look worth robbing.

He’s so young. Sehncia marvels.

He looks nearly thirty.

Foolish, then?

Yes. So young, in a sense.

She gestures with an open palm, rotating from the wrist, keeping her elbow close, and limiting her movement to soothe him. “Welcome. Please, sit.”

The vagabond pauses, finally, a little wiser than he first appeared. He chews this response and flexes his grip on the knife, inching closer around the fire. He has a decent enough stance, is presenting her with a small profile. Wouldn’t do a thing against a moonbeam or some vines, but he doesn’t need to know what she’s capable of.

“Toss the bag.” He commands, unconvincingly. “Don’t touch the spear, no need for trouble.”

“And what are you going to do?” Aspen admonishes, taking on the tone her mother used to use when she didn’t want to stop talking to her imaginary friend and go to bed. “Keep walking all night? Sit, eat, rest. I’m about to make tea and I have leftover soup. Aren’t you hungry?”

He looks at the bowl in front of her crossed legs and hesitates, jaw slackening a bit. He is clearly very hungry. She picks it up slowly in both hands, and offers it out. The teakettle on the fire begins to hiss, low and gentle.

The man holds his stance for a full minute as he weighs his options, and she holds hers just as long. Finally, he lowers the knife, sinks carefully down to the ground a wary distance away from her. The bowl is passed and he cups it close, breathes in the smell, and sips carefully. Upon discovering it is the perfect temperature -magically, but he doesn’t know that- he slurps it hastily.

Aspen considers him occupied, and takes the kettle from the fire, carefully dropping in the crushed berries and pine needles before replacing the lid for it to steep. While she is distracted, he furtively licks the bowl clean. But Sehncia sees, and shows her the image, bubbling amusement in her mind. Aspen reminds her that he has likely not eaten all day, and suggests they do not pass too much judgement. Though she agrees it’s a comical sight.

“You haven’t been traveling before, have you?” She speaks up. There are four large towns within four days travel of here. She could guess which he came from, with a few pointed questions. But she won’t, she respects the strangers who find their way to her fireside.

He peers at her, bitter at the accusation. It makes her a little defensive, and she snorts before continuing. “Oh please, you’re out of food, you don’t have a bedroll, and you have a coin purse well full enough to buy both of those things. Even if it’s all coppers.”

“You threatening to turn me in?” His shoulders hunch like hackles, his fingers claw her bowl. That answers a few questions itself.

“My glaive is stolen too. I never saw you out here if you didn’t see me.” Aspen offers in return. But she realizes her mistake as he takes an appraising look at the weapon, and notices the glint of armor behind her. His brow pinches. Sehncia roils unsettled around her head.

“You’re a deserter.” He says slowly.

“And now I know where you’re from.” She returns, which stiffens him. “Like I said, we won’t talk about each other.”

“Right.” He replies, slowly, as if he’s still looking for a trap. “I mean. You seem too generous to be a guardsman. That must be why you left, right?”

Aspen doesn’t grace that with an answer, and actually does not share his low opinion of the crownsguard. She turns instead to fetch a tin cup from her satchel. “Have you got a mug on you at least? Tea’s almost ready.”

He blinks, confused at the abrupt change of direction, then catches the question and digs in his pack for a tankard he probably swiped from a tavern. He hands her back her bowl, and she pours him half the contents of her kettle. “That’ll be hotter than the soup, watch yourself.” She warns.

He seems to catch on that he’s been getting advice from someone a decade younger, and sips before it’s cool, to make a point. Aspen shakes her head as he tries not to wince and pant. She cups her own mug her hands, letting the warmth seep in against the night air and the aroma rise to soothe her.

“Here’s the deal I offer every stranger who stumbles into my campsite.” She says, giving him a sidelong glance. “We can ask whatever we want, but we are not obliged to answer. And we swear not to talk about each other to any other strangers till tonight’s long past. We share food and fire and stories, and part at dawn. If we happen to be going the same way, part at the next fork in the road. Sound fair?”

“Sounds more dangerous for you than for me.” He says. With some food in him he’s getting bolder, smarter, looking for a way to feel on balance and in control of the situation.

“I know how to use that glaive too. Fifty-fifty odds for which of us would walk out in a fight.” This platitude is a lie, but one meant to soothe the pride she prodded earlier.

“Smartmouth.” He irritably sets the tankard down for a moment, to let it cool.

“You’re welcome, for all I have offered.” She replies, breezily. He licks his burned lips and doesn’t meet her gaze for many minutes.

“…Thank you.” He admits, finally. “I think I’ll take you up on it. It’s… beginning to get chilly. And there’s strength in numbers, in case of a bear or a wolf or something.”

Sehncia dissuades the predators, but Aspen does not need to mention the voice in her head. So she agrees amicably instead. “Certainly. Also, since you don’t know where you’re going, Salthesh is the closest town, west of here, two days walk, I’ll show you the road at first light. It’s your best bet for some proper supplies. And for goodness sakes get a longer cloak. You’ll need the extra blanket some nights.”

He nods, but has one more question before he is comfortable, she can see him searching for words in the firelight dancing on his face. “How did you know I was lost?”

“I have a sense of that sort of thing. I’ve long learned only lost wanderers find my campsite.” She replies, honestly. “I’m becoming a bit of a guide.”

He sips his tea, contemplative, trusting the heat to have simmered by now. It’s a long and quiet few moments before he breaks the silence again.

“I don’t know much about stuff outside Ambershire, but I have a sense too. I know when it’s time to move.  City’s piecing itself back together, but there’s a lotta mercs around and not a lotta jobs for them.” He looks at Aspen, directly, nodding slightly. “Settin’ bounties for deserters is a quick way to keep mercenaries busy and quell any dissent, ya know? Maybe time you picked some new roads, kept yourself outta trouble.”

It makes sense, she supposes. The thought of heading elsewhere fills her with equal parts nerves and excitement. She’s not sure which parts come from Sehncia and which from herself, but she’s never really known that.

“Thank you for the wisdom.” She replies, slowly. “I’ll sleep on it.”

“Least I can do in return.” He replies, taking another drink. “You got it figured out with this setup. It’s… nice.”

“You could do it too.” She suggests. “It’s just kindness and sharing and the trust of strangers, simple as that.”

“I dunno. I think it’s something special you’ve got.”

Sehncia hums in her head, teasingly. Aspen feels her like draped arms over her shoulders. “Perhaps.” She agrees. “In that case, I count myself lucky for it.”

[guileheroine]

a silly ficlet of not-yet-very-established relationship for korrasami month, day 20 (prompt: muscles), modern au/the everthere 💨

“Ooh. Zen.” Korra only says, by way of good morning, once she’s glugged down a litre of water and set the cup on the table.

“Korra,” Asami acknowledges her, businesslike (by way of that’s not a good morning and you know it). There isn’t a twitch in her form as she remains sitting with her feet pointed together in a long stretch, facing the sliding door to the garden, her back to Korra.

She has her yoga pants on and a tank top, which means this quiet time has been expressly marked into her mental schedule, whether a half hour ago or a week.

For a moment, Korra stands witless, without the bearings to consider the idea this seeds, her own next move on the day that stretches before her. Public holidays always feel this way. A Monday off isn’t really invigorating enough on its own terms to have her up early, but the alarm for class that she’d completely forgotten to disable is. And now she’s kind of at a loss, though not in a bad way.

And Asami here, trying presently to touch her nose to her toes isn’t helping. Normally she just goes for a run before diving into something a little more cerebral.

Clearly, it’s an odd morning for them both.

“So, is this... what you do before I get up?”

There’s a twinge in the collected line of Asami’s spine, only just percperceptible, as the laugh in her chest interrupts her posture. “Yeah, it’s a whole new world out here. So peaceful. Who knew, huh?”

Korra’s smile is fully formed, not that she can see it. “Then should I mind my business?”

Silence.

She isn’t sure if she’s read the implicit invitation correctly, nor if she says I’m gonna join you, but Korra thinks it to herself, which is enough for the moment. She proceeds on autopilot and by the time she’s returned downstairs with suitable clothing and a mat she feels more herself. Everything is in focus, especially five foot ten of very limber friend. (It’s not even the kind of thing she’d usually remember, let alone search out, but lately every detail of only Asami crawls for headspace.)

Well, girlfriend.

Wait. She’s not gonna ruin Asami’s very earnest effort to have a healthy and relaxing morning. Looking at it now, this seems like the next in all the little ways Asami’s been cooling down since finishing up with school for good. In which case Korra, for one, finds it extremely welcome and indeed healthy and relaxing.

She mirrors her movements, the very best way to mess with her from afar, but Asami takes it in stride. In one calf stretch she’s leading her through the next pose, and in a few more they’re alternating turns to guide. Korra relishes the unspoken groove they’re in. They exchange more by sight, but although conversation is slow from the priority they give to their bodies, it’s smooth.

“Hey, you never come to the gym with me anymore,” Korra muses, turning her head on the mat to consider Asami as she tucks her knee to her chest with both arms.

Asami wraps her own hands around her leg, and while she breathes deep before answering, Korra continues to reflect. They’d work out together pretty often back when their schedules matched better. Though they were easy days for Korra compared to her real training, she remembered those first couple years fondly: the simpler days of their friendship. Before twists and turns excruciating in ways both bitter and - fucking finally - sweet.

“Oh, you know it’s just ‘cause you’d intimidate me,” Asami says, dripping with sarcasm instead of gently simmering like usual. Her voice rides low with it as she she uncurls and bends carefully into the bridge pose, sloping up slowly.

Korra moves alongside, pulling to feel the stretch in her locked fingers against the mat. “Or I’d distract you...” she counters matter of factly. She blinks at Asami; at the long, sinuous line of her, with her ribcage and her hipbones practically catching the light.

Asami tightens the stretch, but lets her head loll to the side. “Well, speak for yourself,” she says, breathier from the angle.

Okay then?

Korra looks up at the ceiling instead, and nudges at her mind to wander elsewhere. “Just thinking about how my mom used to make me do yoga every weekend during high school.”

“Oh, really? Hah.” That’s her normal voice again. “Did it help?”

“I mean… yeah, I’m pretty sure it did. Man, you know what? Now that I think about it it’s probably some shit Tenzin and Pema sent her.”

Asami giggles. “Zen buddies.”

As only middle aged parents could be. Korra snorts. Remembering her turn, she ponders absently what stretch she’ll pull them into as she inhales deeply. Her eyes fall closed as her chest and back open up, enticed with an effortless ease by the pose and her steady breath. Asami does the same and she makes - quite the bridge. The slip of a sigh draws Korra’s attention once again; and it finds the hem of Asami’s shirt also slipping a few inches chestward as she deflates.

Korra sits up as decisively as she can in this mindful pace, waiting for Asami to follow before she flips onto her front. “You know, this is yoga, technically. If you’re a just a little more conscious of your breath.” With her legs flush along the floor, she pulls her shoulders and torso up, weight on her palms. “Breathing is the more important part - which felt kinda phony when she said it, but Mom did show me some moves that really helped me destress.”

“Oh… I bet I could really use that. I just didn’t ever really get the hang of yoga, ‘cause I feel like I never know if I’m doing it right.”

It takes Korra a second of staring dumbly ahead to realise how pointed the statement is.

“What, you’re saying you’re still stressed?” She veers off easily, trying not to bite her lip. “You’ve no reason to be.”

Asami coughs, barely, but Korra notices that her upward dog threatens to buckle with a similar amusement. “It’s… hard to come down, you know, that’s all. And today I wanted to go to the bank for the new car before I realised-”

“Sit up, fine,” Korra says. “I’ll show you.”

She accedes wordlessly, a smile playing on her lips.

Korra pulls her mat to the centre of the floor and crawls over its length catlike in order to smooth it down, watching Asami watch her. She gestures for her to sit in the middle.

“Okay, cross your legs.” She sweeps around to examine Asami’s posture and then aids her to adjust it, with a tap here and a gentle push there. “Press your feet together. Spine straight.” She takes her hands and guides them to clasp loosely over her ankles.

Then Korra leans back on a hand, satisfied. “Hold that position, I’ll teach you how to breathe.”

That point must be very clear. Now, she sidles up behind her. “Just - notice how you breathe. Like, don’t force it.”

Asami’s arms are trim with their lean muscle, but Korra reminds her to loosen with a flat, lingering hand over them. Hardly thinking, she even flicks her thick ponytail over one side, eyes tracing up the racerback of her top until the rhythmic rise and fall of Asami’s shoulders curves her thought back to the exercise.

Korra slides an arm around her, under Asami’s own straight arms, to press without pressure below her ribs.

She thinks that’s a protest, in the form of more force in Asami’s exhale that she’s been explicitly told she can have. Her voice is a whisper. “What are you doing?”

“Noticing how you breathe.” It’s true, not even an excuse.

And she breathes like a hypnotist.

A glance at her focused face tells Korra that Asami would shrug if she could. Korra just tucks her chin over her shoulder. For ease of observation. “Now inhale deeply through your nose, for a count of four.” Asami remains impeccably still as Korra’s hand moulds over her abdomen, moving with it as she breathes in. “Hold it, for a sec - exhale for eight.” Through the thin shirt, she’s both firm and sleek - Korra skims over her skin with her sensible fingers to check the crucial balance of these remarkable qualities.

Having exhaled, Asami says, “You know that focus is a very important part of yoga?”

“Yeah, I’m the instructor here.” She curls the fingers of the hand around her inwards as a retort, causing Asami to shake her off. Korra settles shortly, with a light, unassuming hand over about the diaphragm again. “In for four again, and hold it for eight this time.”

They both manage to hold for eight. Asami clearly has a harder time of it, what with Korra holding all the way from her ribcage to her waistband in a long and luxuriant swipe. She exhales for six or seven maybe, certainly not eight.

“Alright, now what are you doing?”

Korra can’t keep the laugh out of her voice. “Admiring your, uh, form. It’s really hot, actually.”

“That a technical term?” Asami’s eyes glint.

Korra tugs down sharply on the hem of her shirt to make her bow forward, giggling. “You know what, I think this is blocking your energy from me.” She slips her hand under the shirt this time. “Try holding for eight again.”

As Asami breathes Korra runs her other hand gently along her side. Her posture remains perfect. All the dips and ridges with their even tone. She’s long and strong, treelike. One of those very pretty trees, like a birch or an aspen probably - slender and supple despite all the keen shapes. And Korra feels them out, skin on skin.

Asami’s tenser than she should be this time, even though she had been doing so well. Korra can tell her count’s failed.

“Control your breath,” she says over her shoulder.

“Control your hands,” Asami bites with no bite.

“Trying to help, I told you.” Korra sniffs and replies smoothly. She’d said hands, hadn’t she? So Korra puts the second over the first under the shirt - all the better to centre her. Asami hums suddenly to relieve her… whatever she’s feeling, while Korra smirks into her shoulder.

Then Asami loosens, and makes a valiant attempt at an even inhale. She unclenches her stomach from where she had tightened so as not to squirm too much; letting her hand fall away, bravely, from where she’d momentarily placed it over Korra’s to prevent it from roving.

Maybe Korra should honour the attempt. But it’s a lot easier to honour her own wicked whims. What with five foot ten of beautifully toned girlfriend.

Asami sucks her bottom lip in as Korra spans the expanse of her abdomen with a silky, inquisitive touch. And when she pulls her arms tighter around her, her practised breath hitches high.

Korra doesn’t laugh in her ear so much as in her neck. “Again, control your breath.”

Asami cheeps. “I cannot do that.” She rubs her nose on the back of her hand, face flushed, as they both take a moment. The edge that enters her voice somehow doesn’t detract from the utter modesty. “But you should - I mean, I can keep trying, if - you show me again.”

[lovewhatyoudodolan]

Olympic Gold || Ethan Dolan

Prompt: You and Ethan have a 2 year old son, and another is on the way as Ethan is training. You can bet your ass Ethan Dolan’s competing in the Olympics. Part 2 of Perfect Score!

Word Count: 3,453

A/N: I love snowboarding and should’ve just written a short 5 chapter story about Ethan x Pro Snowboarding 

MASTERLIST

REQUEST

A content smile was on my face as I watched I watched my shaggy haired brunette boyfriend flying through the air. He’s been training constantly since qualifying for the Team USA’s snowboarding team. To say I was proud would be an understatement.

“Go daddy!” The sound of my two year old screaming for his father warmed my heart. “Momma look!” Ethan flew into a 1440 causing my eyes widen in surprise. He never told me he had perfected the trick.

“He’s awesome isn’t he Jacob?” I ask as I kneel down to pick the small brunette boy up, “Want to go see him?”

A face contorts on Ethan’s mini twin causing me to chuckle. “I’m not allowed down there. Uncle Grayson told me it isn’t safe.”

“I have the power to override Uncle Grayson,” I smile as I perch the boy on my hip, “If you want to see your dad we’ll head down.” Rather than speaking the toddler grins at me giddily causing me to chuckle. 

Today was the first time I have had the chance to visit E since he started training, and I was beginning to miss the sight of his hazel eyes. Not competing by his side made seeing one another harder than normal because his coach wants to keep distractions away. 

I slid through the powdery snow, jumping at times to get a laugh out of the small boy on my hip until I reached the end of the super-pipes foam pit. “Ethan, you alive in there?” At the sound of my voice, the boy popped his head up with a black foam block balanced on top of his helmet. “Someone wanted to see you.”

“I hope that someone is a certain girl,” He grins while pulling his body over to the metal edge of the foam pit. Ethan quickly undoes the bindings on his board, tossing it down before climbing down to the snow covered ground. “Because no offence I see that one more than you at this point.”

My eyes roll as I place Jacob on the ground so he can do his own thing, “It may be a certain girl, but at this point she doesn’t even remember what her boyfriend looks like anymore.”

“I can probably remind her,” Ethan replies smugly before wrapping his arms tightly around my waist. A smile was present on both of our faces as we just enjoyed the close proximity. 

“Y/n did I not tell you to stay away while he was training?” Peter shouted as he walked over in search of Ethan. Grayson came running after him with Jacob hanging around his neck.

“All work and no play is what causes accidents Peter,” Ethan said after pulling away to lay his arm across my shoulders, “Plus I haven’t seen these two in almost a week. You make Jacob stay up top until Y/n comes back to pick him up.”

Peter’s arms cross over his chest as he shoots Ethan a glare, “You two have had enough play in the last couple of months. She’s not able to compete because you were playing a little too much.”

At his words my eyes widen and cheeks heat up. “Peter!”

“Am I wrong?” The taller man raises an eyebrow at me causing me to go silent, “You would be competing in this years Olympics as well if it wasn’t for Ethan knocking you up once again.” He wasn’t wrong there, “You need to get your priorities straight because you may not be able to board at all after this one y/n!”

I cringe at the bluntness of his words. There were complications when Jacob was born that almost killed me, and I knew that’s what he was talking about. The doctors told me that my heart may not be able to take the amount of adrenaline that my body creates when riding a half-pipe so I have to keep a monitor on my wrist when I compete. “That’s her business, not yours.”

From that moment I block everyone else out. Peter was right for once. When I have this child in a few weeks I probably won’t be able to get on a board ever again. Not just because of my heart, but because Ethan will be competing more and I’ll have to watch the kids when he leaves. 

“See she knows,” Peter pulls me out of my thoughts on the matter. “Her life isn’t going to be the same this time and she knows it.”

Grayson grabs our coach’s shoulder, “Peter just leave them alone.” I smile at the younger twin in appreciation. “You’ve already upset her enough.”

Peter just rolls his dead gray eyes before walking back towards the top of the half-pipe Ethan owned. “Don’t listen to him babe.”

“How can I not when he’s right Ethan?” I practically scream at the boy after the words left his mouth, “Do you even realize how hard this has been on me? He’s right, I won’t be able to board after this.”

“You don’t know that y/n,” Ethan grabbed my shoulders to keep me in place, “I promise you no complications will come from this pregnancy.”

I shake my head at the brunette, “You don’t get it. You’re going to be in Beijing living out your lifelong dream in about a month, and once you win I’m going to be stuck taking care of the kids. There will be no more competitions for me.”

“You think I’m going to let that happen when I know how much you love this? Y/n you will always be my top priority other than these two kids.” His hand falls to my round, pregnant stomach. “Nothing is going to stand in the way of either of our dreams. Yeah this one kind of came at a bad time, but I don’t think either of us will regret her when she arrives.”

My neck cranes forward so I could hide my face in his chest. At this moment I sure hope he’s right because I’m not ready to give it up just yet. “Jacob get off the board!”

Ethan and I’s attention shifted to our son who was sliding across the snow on Ethan’s far too large board. “Like father like son.”

“Eh he reminds me of you,” Ethan said, pulling me into his side. Grayson continued to chase after his nephew. “Stop overthinking if you want to do something, I know you’ll make it happen.”

---

Nothing was more painful than having to go through having a child without the father. Something just feels missing throughout the entire process and if something goes wrong no one is there for you.

Yesterday, Ethan departed with Team USA for China. Both of us knew this would end up happening, but we were hoping it would be further into the games before our daughter was born. 

A sigh escaped my mouth as I hold the cellphone to my ear, “She’s perfect Ethan. I’m sorry you couldn’t be here.” It was obvious he was as affected as I was due to his absence. 

“No babe I’m sorry,” I could hear him shuffling through the line. Without actually seeing him, I knew he was running his fingers through his hair. “I should’ve just stayed...”

“Ethan don’t say that,” My voice was harsher than I meant for it to be. Before continuing, I take a deep breath. “You’ve worked for years to be in the Olympics. We don’t know what could happen in the next four years, so take advantage of being chosen for the team.”

Jacob pulls himself onto the bed next to me, bringing my attention away from Ethan and I’s conversation. “Hey you want to talk to Daddy?”

“I wouldn’t mind you calling me that again,” Ethan’s voice was husky as he joked with me about the name. 

I roll my eyes, “Shut up E.” With that I hand the cellphone towards our son so they could talk for a few minutes. At this point I was just waiting for the nurse to come back so I could get out of here. I must have been lost in my thoughts because Jacob  was handing the phone back. 

“He said he had to go...” It was obvious my mini Ethan was upset that his father had to leave so abruptly, but we were used to it at this point. “He loves us.”

“You know what?” A large grin forms as I stare the small boy down, “I love you more.” My arms wrap around his small body, pulling him into my arms and kissing his head multiple times causing him to squeal.

I stopped when the door lightly shut and Grayson stood at the end of my bed, “I’m sorry I wasn’t here!” He stress-fully runs his hand through his hair, “Did everything go well?”

“You’re fine Gray,” A smile forms on my face as the nurse walks in with the new addition to the family wrapped in a clean blanket. “Here she is!”

The younger twin rushes to my side as the nurse slides the baby into my arms, “What did you and Ethan decide to name her? I know you guys were arguing over that for a while.”

“Aspen,” I happily sigh and cradle the small child closer to my chest, “Aspen Elizabeth Dolan.”

Grayson didn’t even need to ask to hold her, it was visible on his face so I slowly held the child towards him. “I’m trusting you. I need to get dressed.”

“Are we going to be able to take her to China?” It was as if a light bulb went off in the brunettes head because his head snapped faster than I ever expected. “I mean we need a passport.”

I nod, “I ordered it already and made them prioritize it so we could still make our flight. You’re going to have to sit with Jacob though.”

The toddler grinned widely at his uncle, “I think we’ll manage.” Grayson put his hand up to high five his brothers son before turning back to me, “Now go get dressed so we can go back to the house.”

--- 

“Maybe I’ll just stay in China,” I groan as Grayson and I exit the plane terminal with the kids in our arms, “I mean they more technologically advanced right?”

Grayson shot me a look out of the corner of his eye, “I don’t think so y/n.”

“Anything is better than going through that plane ride again.” Two arms wrap around my waist catching me off guard as I let go of Jacobs’s hand. “What the fuck?”

“Daddy!” When the words left Jacobs mouth I immediately relaxed in my boyfriend’s arms.

Once I was safely back on the ground I smacked the older twins chest, “Don’t scare my like that in foreign countries you ass!”

Ethan just chuckled and turned his attention to his brother. It didn’t take long for my boyfriend to take the newest addition to our family into his arms. “Hi Aspen I’m your daddy. I’m sorry I wasn’t there when you were born, but I’m not going anywhere now.”

The moment warmed my heart. Ethan always prioritized Jacob, and I knew he would do the same now that Aspen was here. “I’ll go get our bags so you two can catch up,” Grayson said before darting off towards luggage claim. 

“How was the flight?” Ethan turned towards me with a kind smile on his beautiful face. A look was all it took for him to understand, “You don’t have to tell me twice.”

Jacob walked over to hug Ethan’s leg causing me to chuckle at the sight, “I think they missed you and Aspen hadn’t even properly met you yet.”

“I’m still sorry about that...” I knew he wouldn’t easily get over the fact that he missed his child being born, but there was nothing he could do. This has always been his dream, and Aspen coming two weeks early wasn’t expected.

“We’ve already been through this babe. You’re fine, let’s just enjoy the time we have here.” I reach forward to lightly grab his toned arm, “I’m just glad I didn’t miss seeing your runs in person.”

The ride to the hotel could’ve been worse, and by the time we got there I was almost asleep on Ethan’s shoulder due to jet lag. I hadn’t even realized I was in a bed until I woke up hours later with Ethan by my side, “Good morning sleeping beauty.”

“I probably look like shit right now, don’t even Dolan,” I mutter and push hair out of my face, “What time is it?”

Ethan’s eyes shift to the clock on the nightstand, “Almost noon. I have to leave soon for warm ups.”

“I should probably get the kids from Grayson,” I whisper to myself, “He’s been through enough torture don’t you think?”

I have no time to react as Ethan rolls on top of me, “Hmm I think he could deal with a little more.”

“Oh yeah?” My hand slides up his toned torso achingly slow, and I knew it was getting to him by the way he was biting his lip, “Do you have something in mind to do?”

My voice was seductive as I looked at the boy through my long lashes. It’s been months since we’ve had the chance to be intimate with one another due to the pregnancy. “Oh there are many things I want to do to you right now babe,” He whispered into my ear before biting down lightly, “You’d need a couple sheets of paper to keep up.”

“Then just show me,” My voice trails off as his teeth graze the tender skin on my next. I tilted my head back to give him more access, but it was short lived as a knock on the door interrupted us. “Maybe they’ll leave?”

Another knock made me curse under my breath, and Ethan to get up to open the door. He quickly made himself presentable before opening the door for none other than our favorite person, Peter. “Why aren’t you dressed? We have to leave Ethan!”

“Oh,” His eyes lock with mine, a glare present as he squinted at me. “Now everything makes sense. Stop distracting him. He needs to kick ass today for that Gold. The qualifiers were nothing compared to what’s next.”

Ethan rolled his eyes, “At least I got the top score in qualifies so I get to go last in finals.”

“That’s irrelevant Ethan,” Peter groaned, “Get changed so we can go.” With that the door slams and Ethan and I are left with tension filling the room.

“We could always continue where we left off,” E glanced over at me causing me to shake my head. Of course we’d do that on any other occasion just to piss Peter off, but today was different than most days. “I’ll see you in the stands?”

Ethan was quickly shifting around the room, changing his pants and shirt before tossing his jacket around his shoulders. He sprinted into the bathroom to brush his teeth and hair, and once he was back my hands grab his shoulders to slow him down, “Me and the rest of the family.”

“Good,” He smiles and leans in to press a light kiss to my lips. “It wouldn’t be the same without you out there.”

---

Jacob was in awe as he watched the professional snowboarders from all over the world competing to win the gold medal. Some were incredible, leaving me with my jaw dropped. Most I had heard of at some point while competing over the years, but some were so young that I was astonished with their skill level.

“Ethan’s up next,” Grayson’s words catch my attention. E was stopped at the top, waiting for the judges to give him the go. Without a second thought, he was off and I swore I was holding my breath as he slid up the side of the half-pipe to drop in.

“Look that’s your dad,” Grayson said with Aspen in his arms causing me to chuckle as Ethan completed the first 1440 in his set. As he went up for the second, I swore my heart dropped. He didn’t have enough air, but it was obvious he was going for the second 1440 anyways.

I cringe when the tail of the board slams into the lip and Ethan completely lost balance, clumsily sliding towards the flat bottom. My eyes shot towards Gray, who sent me an encouraging nod. Ethan was scored a 53.67 as I reached the barrier. “E!”

“Marry me.” My eyes widened at the sudden outburst, “I can’t focus on this without asking you first. I’ve been pushing it aside for so long now because I was training, and I just can’t wait anymore. Marry me y/n.”

“Ethan…” I was breathless. Ethan wants to marry me…

Peter grabbed his arm before I had the chance to respond, pulling him back towards the trail leading to the half-pipe. I was stunned as I watched the boy I loved being dragged away from me. Before I had the chance to overthink my response, I ran back to the stands where Grayson was waiting expectantly. “What did he say?”

“He asked me to marry him Grayson!” I couldn’t tell if I was excited or panicking about the sudden outburst, “God and Peter carried him off before I could respond…” My body was pressed to the railing of the stands as I waited for Ethan to come back up again.

Grayson appeared at my side when Ethan come into view once again, “Get ready…” He took a deep breath, “Ethan!” His voice echoed throughout the entire half-pipe stadium, catching his brother’s attention immediately.

“Yes,” Even if I had to mouth the word to him, I knew he understood when a giddy smile appeared on his face. I didn’t have time to say anything else as he pulled his goggles down and bandana over his face to drop in on the pipe.

He started with a large Method leaving me in shock. With the height he was getting, not even Shaun White would have a chance. My hands clenched into fists as he completed the first 1440 with a smooth landing, allowing the second 1440 to occur smoothly. His air was phenomenal which was understandable with how much he had been training.

I almost screamed when he completed a Double McTwist 1260. Ethan finished the run with a cab double cork 900, and a simple 360.  His routine was spotless and it was obvious he knew as well when his hands shot excitedly up in the air.

“You want to go down?” Grayson whispered while handing Aspen to me so he had a better grip on Jacob who was sitting on his shoulders.  Before I could answer, he was leading the way towards the scoring area. Right when we got there Ethan was awarded a 98.79, giving him the gold.

Even if I wasn’t the one being awarded, I felt like I had been. Grayson helped me around the barrier so I could get to Ethan. Even with Aspen in my arms, he pulled me into a tight hug. “I did it! Oh my god.” Tears were brimming his beautiful eyes causing me to chuckle a little.

“You fucking did it E,” His display of tears caused me to follow suite. Even if Jacob didn’t completely understand what was happening, he ran over to Ethan, hugging his leg tightly to congratulate him. “I knew this day would come, but I didn’t know it would feel like this…”

“You’re next,” His hand reached forward to cup my cheek, “That’s a promise.”

I lean forward to press a well-deserved kiss to his lips, “Don’t knock me up again in the next four years then. I have to start training.”

A pout formed on the boy’s face at my words, “But look how cute Aspen is babe.” I roll my eyes as he takes the baby from my arms, “You want to know something? You’re my fiancé now.”

“Really? I don’t see a ring.” I joked and glanced down at the week old baby in his arms, “Ethan… Thank you.”

A confused look forms on his face, “For what?”

“For giving me a great life,” I motion towards the craziness surrounding us, “For giving me a wonderful family. Just thank you for being you. Nothing would be the same had I not met you at the X-Games.”

“Nothing would’ve been the same had I not found the guts to kiss you that day,” His forehead presses against mine so I can see deep into his hazel eyes, “I love you y/n.”

“I love you too Ethan.”

[whydontwe-fanfics]

Photograph (ALL)

A/N: so @ginnilynn99  commented 'You should write one with all the boys in it' on one of my previous posts and I really liked the idea, although this imagine might not be exactly what they were expecting

Description: Based off of the song Photograph by Ed Sheeran.

Warning: tears will be shed, angst, swearing, might be triggering, death

Word Count: 2.2k

---

Y/N Y/L/N. Corbyn, Jack, Daniel, Zach and Jonah's best friends since they've first met. Y/N Y/L/N. Also known as the girl all five boys had a crush on. Ranking from Corbyn's small one to Jonah's huge one. You held a piece in each of the boys' heart and everyone knew it except you.

The first time you had met the boys was when you went to their concert with your distant cousin, Logan Paul. You weren't the hugest fan of them at the time, but their music slowly sucked you in.

Then your cousin directed one of their music videos, and you officially became acquainted with them. After that, your friendships only grew stronger and you hung out with them nearly every day - those being when they were in L.A and not on tour.

A while ago, they had come to terms with the fact that it wouldn't be fair for one of them to date you. It was a 'guy code' of some sort, and if any of them were to break it, friendships would most likely be damaged.

You were one of the most important people in their lives and they wouldn't swap you for a million dollars.

---

It was a crazy day from start to finish. The boys all barged into your apartment that you shared with your older sister and sang 'Happy Birthday' on the top of their lungs. Whilst Jonah, Corbyn, and Daniel sang off key on purpose, Zach and Jack were there to show off their already known voices and harmonize the traditional song.

You were sat at the kitchen table, eating the birthday pancakes your sister made for you when they walked through the open door, their hands filled with balloons and gift bags.

The boys not only drowned you in gifts, but they had your whole day planned out. You were gonna go shopping with Daniel and Corbyn while the other boys headed back to their house to set up the party and wait for all the guests to arrive.

After being spoiled by your shopping companions, the three of you began to head back to The Compound, what the boys named their home.

"Play my favorite one," you patted Corbyn's shoulder with the back of your hand.

"You play it. You're the one with the aux cord," Corbyn chuckled.

"Totally forgot," you hummed, reaching for your phone. "I'm so used to you having the aux."

"He always has the aux," Daniel inputs from the back.

"That's not... okay that's kinda true. But only because I have the best music," Corbyn defends himself.

"You all listen to the same stuff," you giggle from the front passenger seat, scrolling through your playlist and playing your favorite of the Why Don't We songs, Y/F/S. (your favorite song)

Your giggle was the last thing heard before the loud honking coming from your side of the road.

---

"Black and white balloons?" Jonah called as he stood on a step ladder, hanging up the last stringer.

"Check," Aspen hums from the couch she sat on.

"Her favorite cake?"

"Cookies and cream ice cream. Check," Jack calls back. 

"Gifts set up?"

"Check," Zach says as he walks into the room.

"Everything is fine, Jonah. She's gonna love it," Aspen reassures him.

"Yeah, now all we have to do is bring everyone in from the back," Jack claps his hands and rises to his feet from his seat beside Aspen.

"I'm on it-" Zach began to say before he was interrupted by Jonah's phone ringing from his back pocket. Jonah hopped down off of the ladder and fished it out, furrowing his eyes when he sees Logan's name flash on his screen.

Zach heads out to get everyone into the house while Aspen and Jack stay in the center room with Jonah, who answers Logan's call.

They didn't know what the phone call was about, but they could tell it was important by the pale look on Jonah's face. He choked up for a moment before going into a full-on rush mode.

"Dude, who was it? What's going on?" Jack asked quickly.

"I-uh-Corbyn, Dan-Daniel and Y/N. They were in a car crash."

---

Everything seemed to have changed that day and afterward.

None of the guys have been the same since then, and it's been at least a month after the incident.

Corbyn left the hospital with cuts from the glass on his arms and face. The worst done to him was his dislocated shoulder. He was discharged a day after arriving.

Daniel left the hospital with a broken arm and a concussion three days after being brought in.

Y/N left the hospital with a cracked skull and ribcage. Unfortunately, she didn't leave it breathing.

The funeral was the hardest thing the boys have been to in a very long time. None of them spoke during the entire event, their eyes not leaving the open casket in the front of the room. Your pale skin had them sick to their stomachs. They were used to seeing your face turn red from laughing so hard, not the cold stoic expression laid on your resting corpse that moment.

Everybody who knew you personally attended the funeral. All of the boys' families, all of your friends and so on.

Many tears were shed, the tension in the room as heavy as a thousand boulders - one on every shoulder.

Jonah and Corbyn felt as if there were holes in their stomachs, an ongoing sickness that would never end. Jack believed that his heart dropped every few seconds, on and on, over and over. Zach and Danielle didn't want to face the facts. Then again, none of them did.

It was as if every few moments they'd be reminded that you were no longer living and walking Earth with them. You were among the dead and they didn't want to believe that.

For the past week, everybody would go to sleep, praying and hoping that all of this was a dream. They'd wake up and go to your house and you'd be sleeping on your living room couch because you saw a spider in your room. They'd wake up and you'd send them a text, asking what you guys would be doing that day. They'd wake up and head on tour with you by their side.

But then there's reality.

“ Loving can hurt Loving can hurt sometimes But it's the only thing that I know “

Nobody wants to face reality, for it was one of the darkest things to roam Earth alongside everyone and everything else.

The thought of you passing away in a car accident was never a stressed topic... it never is with anyone. So when something like that actually happens, it's like standing in the center of a room and having bricks thrown at you, each of them labeled in bold print 'REALITY'.

And then the mental scenarios come in.

“ When it gets hard “ 

What if Corbyn and Daniel didn't take her shopping? What if Corbyn wasn't driving? What if you guys took a different route to get to their house? What if you were in the backseat with Daniel?

When the funeral was over, everyone headed back home. Corbyn and Daniel were just as wary to get in the car as they were getting there, but they managed to do so.

“ You know it can get hard sometimes It is the only thing that makes us feel alive “  

Each of the boys gazed out the window, their minds overloading with sorrow and clouding with dejected thoughts. It was when your favorite song Y/F/S started playing on the very low radio. All of their heads syncronizing-ly turned to face the radio at the front of the van as depressing nostalgia washed over all of them.

Weeks passed and schedules got back on schedule. Your sister hasn't spoken a word to the boys since your birthday morning. A small part of her resented them, but a bigger part knew that they weren't at fault.

So when she went knocking at their door with a cardboard box in her hands, they were shocked beyond belief.

“ We keep this love in a photograph We made these memories for ourselves “ 

"Hey," she sighed, shifting in her shoes. "I-um. I'm leaving L.A. I've been... I've been packing up her room, and I," she hitched the box on her hip so she could use a hand to wipe away the tear that fell. "I thought you guys would want-" she sniffed. "Would want these pictures of you all. I-I printed them out from her phone and there are other photos and such."

The boys' afternoon was spent going through the box with despair racking in their bones.

The guys all let the tears flow as they went through all of the Polaroid and photo booth pictures that were taken between all of you. Their hearts ached as their eyes ran over your smiling face, wanting nothing more than to have you laughing at their side that moment.

“ Where our eyes are never closing Hearts are never broken Times forever frozen still “

He stayed staring at a Polaroid of you and him on a bench in Washington D.C, both decked out in winter coats, hats, snow boots, gloves, and scarves. Your face was red from the cold as you rolled your eyes with a smile at Jonah, who was making corny jokes that had to do with snow at the time.

"I wish I could make her laugh, again."  

Jack let out a small sigh as he looked at a picture of you, him and two of his sisters, Ava and Isla. The four of you were posing on the beach, all in your bathing suits with wet hair and smiles on your faces. You and Ava had arms around each other's shoulders as Isla spread her arms and legs out with a large grin on her face, standing in front of you and Ava. Jack stood beside you and held bunny ears behind your head with smiling with his eyes closed. Sydnie, Jack's other sister, had been the one who took the picture. The next photo was of you and her posing as awkwardly and weirdly as you both could, silly expressions on your faces.

"I wish I could horse around with her, again."

“So you can keep me Inside the pocket Of your ripped jeans “

Zach held a collage of a dozen photos the two of you had taken in the bathroom of David, his manager's house. The selfies of you and Zach were random - one with you crouching on the counter and him dabbing in the back, another with you purposely blocking Zach from the camera's view, another of him carrying you bridal style in his arms while you dramatically lifted a single leg as both of you laughed. The other nine were just as weird and hysteric as the first three, the last one even containing Aspen as she sat on your back while you leaned your elbows on the counter, Zach facepalming in the corner of the picture. That was the day you had met Aspen, who eventually became your closest friend.

"I wish I could've spent more time with her."

“ Holdin' me closer 'Til our eyes meet “

Daniel sadly smiled down at the photo booth pictures you and him had taken not so long ago. The two of you were at the mall shopping for Jack's birthday when you had dragged him to the photo booth excitedly. The first three photos weren't anything different to Daniel. It was the last one that got his heart beating. You had decided to plant a kiss on his cheek. It wasn't like you had never kissed him on the cheek, you had kissed all of the boys on their cheeks more than once. What had Daniel blushing in the timed picture was how close your lips had been to his lips. How he wanted to turn and kiss your lips off of your face.

"I wish she knew how I felt about her."

“ You won't ever be alone Wait for me to come home “

Corbyn blushed at the group of images he stared down at. They had been taken by your mother the night of Thanksgiving. While the rest of the boys had gone to spend time with their families, Corbyn's flight was delayed so you invited him to spend the holiday with your family. That night, you and he hung out in your parents' living room after all of your family had left. You and Corbyn fell asleep later that night underneath bundles of blankets in each other's arms. Your head was in the crook of his neck when he had awoken to the sound of a picture being taken.

"I wish I could've hugged her more."

“ Loving can heal Loving can mend your soul And it's the only thing that I know “

"Stop."

All boys turned to August, their photographer, and best friend. He was a close friend of yours, as well, but he wasn't able to attend the funeral or wake. He was in New York and couldn't catch a flight back.

"Stop reminiscing on the regret of not doing anything with Y/N. Think about everything you've all been through. And we have these photographs to thank."

And that night, that's all they could do.

“ I swear it will get easier Remember that with every piece of ya And it's the only thing we take with us when we die “

---

Masterlist | Request Here

[birdiethebibliophile]

{fic} Bright-Eyed and Bushy-Tailed (part 2)

Word Count:  2.5k Relationship:  Lucien/Cassian Characters:  Lucien, Cassian, Rhysand, Feyre Warnings:  Depression, PTSD, also just a lot of regular Sadness, Abuse

Here on AO3.

__________________

Cassian had made Lucien exchange cell numbers with him before Feysand got back. So far he was very nearly regretting it – despite Lucien’s obvious skill as a photographer, he kept sending Cassian blurry pictures of guys lifting weights at the gym with the caption is this u.

But finally, Cassian had a chance to use number as he’d intended.

When should I pick u up? he texted to Lucien bright and early Monday morning.

id hopd ud forgotten about that he got back five minutes later. He was surprised Lucien had responded so fast – he’d expected him to be asleep, as any sensible person should be at the god-awful hour at which Cassian awoke.

Nope, sorry. What time?

He was still waiting for Lucien’s reply when his 6am Tai Chi class started to trickle in, so he put his phone in his bag. Once he’d waved all the businesspeople too hipster to do yoga out the door nearly an hour later, he grabbed it again, expecting a text from a few minutes after his own. Cassian frowned when there was no message notification on his phone. He decided to give Lucien the benefit of the doubt. For now.

But by eleven he was done with that nonsense.

If u don’t tell me what time 2 pick u up I’m going 2 come and park outside ur house.

He grinned as his phone pinged not five minutes later:  come by at 1 tmrw. u suk.

Cassian grinned. ;) See u at 1.

At exactly one o’clock, Cassian pulled up in front of the apartment complex. I’m here, he texted.

cant be. all i see is the ugliest ass truck iv ever seen.

Cassian decided, in lieu of texting back, to lay on the horn.

Almost immediately, the door flew open, and Lucien practically fell down the stairs in his rush to get to the truck. Before he got in, he went over to the driver’s side and pounded on the roof. “Cut it out, you ass.”

Cassian released the horn and rolled down the window. “Happy to see me?”

“Shut up,” Lucien grumbled. He went around to the passenger side, wrenched open the door, and flung himself into the seat.

“So, where are we going?” Cassian asked, starting up the truck.

“Just start driving. I’ll tell you where to turn.”

“We going to a strip club, Lu? Because I gotta say, I’m all out of singles,” Cassian said, glancing over with a grin. “Also, put your seatbelt on.”

“You’re not my mom.”

“Yeah, but I’m driving, and I’m not moving until your seatbelt is on.”

“God, Cass.” But Lucien buckled himself in. “There. Happy?”

“Yep,” Cassian said cheerfully.

“Take a right at the first light.” Lucien settled back into the seat, staring out the side window.

“Gotcha.” Cassian tapped the steering wheel lightly. “So. You were up early today.”

“So were you.”

“Yeah, but I’m up early every day.” Now that Lucien was sitting next to him, Cassian could see that the other man looked paler than he had before, his golden-brown skin pasty, and there were dark circles under his eyes.

“Couldn’t sleep,” Lucien muttered.

“Well, as I said, I’m always up early, so… if you ever need someone to talk to…” Cassian ventured. “I teach a class at six, so I’m usually up at four-thirty or five.”

“Take a right on Aspen,” Lucien said. “Then get on the freeway going east. You don’t want to talk to me at five in the morning, trust me.”

Cassian turned onto the on-ramp. “Pssh. All I do from when I get up until the class is shower and drink a smoothie.”

“A smoothie.” Lucien’s voice dripped with incredulity and sarcasm.

“Hey, what do you have against smoothies?”

“Nothing. I love smoothies. I just thought you’d be the guy that eats, like, a pound of bacon a day.” He leaned over and ran a finger down Cassian’s forearm. “I wouldn’t think you get like this from smoothies.”

Cassian’s face warmed. “I usually grab breakfast at the café on 15th,” he said. “That’s where the bacon comes in.”

“Never been.” Lucien turned back to the window.

“Great hashbrowns, fresh orange juice. Coffee so strong it’ll take the roof off your mouth. You should come sometime – I know Rhys’s coffee is shit.”

Lucien snorted. “Yeah, tasted it once, never again. I think he and Feyre get Starbucks most days. Must be nice.”

Cassian glanced at him. “What do you mean?”

“To have the money to get a five-dollar latte every morning,” Lucien said, a bitter note in his voice.

“Yeah…” Cassian let out a brief breath. “I get you there.”

“You’re going to want to take Exit 285,” Lucien said. Then, unbidden, “I don’t have a fucking penny.”

Cassian didn’t respond. There was that tension to Lucien again that told him not to ask questions.

“Not a fucking one.” Lucien leaned over further and laid his cheek against the window. “Tamlin always just paid for everything… if Feyre and Rhysand decide they don’t want me living with them anymore, I don’t know what I’ll do.”

“Shit, man,” Cassian said. Lucien’s voice had gone very soft again. “You can always crash at my place.”

“Thanks,” Lucien said. “I just… God. I hate him.”

“Tamlin?” Cassian asked.

Lucien didn’t respond. “Here,” he said. “Exit here…”

Cassian shifted gears as he headed in the direction Lucien indicated. He waited for Lucien to resume, but he didn’t, just continued giving directions.

 “We’re here.”

Cassian looked at the sign:  St. Joseph Medical Center. Then he looked at Lucien. The other man’s back was hunched, and he was steadfastly not looking at Cassian. Or getting out of the car.

“Lu?” Cassian asked quietly.

“I come here for therapy three times a week,” Lucien said after a moment.

“Depression?”

Lucien nodded, eyes still downcast. “And PTSD.”

Cassian nodded as well. “Want me to walk you in?”

“No, I… I’m good.”

“How long? I can stay here.”

“About half an hour. You sure?”

“Totally.” He opened the glove compartment and pulled out a paperback. “I keep trashy novels in here for exactly this kind of situation.”

“All right. If you’re sure.”

“Yeah, yeah, I’m sure. Get your skinny ass out of the car,” Cassian said with a grin.

A smile ghosted over Lucien’s face. “Thanks,” he said. “I’ll… be back soon.” He slipped out of the truck.

Cassian watched until the clinic doors shut behind him.

 “So. How’d it go?” Cassian closed his book and tossed it into the backseat.

“Fine.”

Cassian waited, but that was all Lucien said. “You sure?”

He closed his eyes. “Yeah.”

Cassian started the truck. “Seatbelt,” he said. “I’m taking you to that café.”

Lucien buckled in without opening his eyes. “I’m not hungry.”

“Well, I am, and my next class doesn’t start for an hour,” Cassian said, pulling out of the parking lot. “Also… feel free to tell me to fuck off, but are there any triggers I should know about?”

Lucien let out a soft sigh. “Yelling. Things… breaking.”

Cassian’s hands tightened on the steering wheel. “Anything else?” he said. “Or… anything that helps when…” He trailed off.

“Talking softly helps,” Lucien said. “Um…” He almost seemed embarrassed. “Don’t… don’t touch my face unless I say so, but the backs of my hands are okay.”

“I’ll remember that,” Cassian said.

Neither of them said another word until Cassian pulled into the café parking lot.

He opened the truck door, then paused. “You don’t have to come in,” he said. “If you don’t want to.”

“What, and miss seeing whether this place lives up to your hype? Not a chance,” Lucien said.

“I’m buying you a cup of coffee, then. Since I insisted on dragging you here.”

Lucien hesitated for a second, discomfort written on his face, then nodded. “I’d like that, actually,” he said.

“I bet a drink would help more, but two is a little early for alcohol, so coffee will have to do,” Cassian said.

“I owe you,” Lucien said. “First you drive me across town, and now –”

“Hey.” Cassian interrupted, putting a hand on his arm. “You don’t owe me anything. Friends can do favors for each other. No debts, no bargains. Okay?”

“I thought we weren’t friends.” But Cassian could hear something fragile in Lucien’s voice under the veneer of snark.

“Too bad,” Cassian said bracingly, swinging out of the truck. “Apparently we are now.”

“God.” Lucien dropped to the ground. “You’re so…”

“Charming? Annoying? Awe-inspiring? Sexy?”

Lucien flushed. “…nice.”

Cassian felt a lurching in the pit of his stomach. The fact that Lucien felt a need to comment on that, when all Cassian was doing was driving him to an appointment and paying a dollar fifty for a cup of coffee… “That’s me,” he said. “Nice. Rhys might say nauseatingly so.”

“I don’t blame him there.” Lucien followed him into the café, looking around with a raised eyebrow. “Nice place.”

“I know you’re being sarcastic, and I don’t care,” Cassian said, sliding into a booth by the window. “Hey, Janine.”

“Hey, Cassian.” The waitress who’d headed over as soon as they walked in the door set two cups on the table and filled them with coffee. “The usual?”

“Yep. How’s the sourdough today?”

“Even if I said it was moldy, you would still order it,” Janine accused.

“Called out,” Cassian admitted. “Take it easy on the toaster this time. My friend here has a sensitive palate.”

“You got it.” The waitress winked at him, then headed back to the kitchen.

“Cream and sugar?” Cassian asked Lucien.

“I told you I wasn’t hungry,” Lucien said grumpily. “…Just sugar.”

Cassian stirred a spoonful of sugar into Lucien’s coffee and pushed it across the table. “I know. They burn my toast every time. I thought maybe that would get them not to.”

Lucien studied his surroundings. “My eyes are bleeding. I’ve never seen so much linoleum and blue-and-white check in my life. How do you stand it?”

“Are you kidding? This place is the best. All the fun of the fifties without the racism.” Cassian grinned as he dumped half the jug of cream into his coffee.

“Good thing. Neither of us would be allowed to be here in the fifties.”

Cassian lifted his eyebrows. “I bet you could get in, with all that pretty hair. And then you could sneak me in.”

Lucien looked Cassian over from head to foot, slowly enough that Cassian took a hasty gulp of his coffee. “Sneak you in. Sure. Sounds doable. It’s not like you stand out or anything, after all.”

“Okay, yeah, that probably wouldn’t work,” Cassian agreed. “So let’s just enjoy the fact that you don’t have to smuggle me in under your coat like a watch dealer.”

Lucien choked on his coffee. “A what?”

“You know, when the guy opens his coat, and he’s like, ‘hey, buddy, wanna buy a watch?’”

“Cassian?”

“Yeah?”

“You’re an idiot.”

“I know I am, but what are you? Thanks, Janine,” Cassian added as the waitress slid a plate in front of him.

“You want a warmup, hon?” Janine asked Lucien, tapping her coffeepot.

“Oh – thank you,” Lucien said, letting her refill his cup.

“’Course. Any friend of Cassian’s is a friend of mine,” she said with a wink.

“We’re not friends,” Lucien said weakly as Janine walked away.

“Don’t mind her,” Cassian said, digging into his food with almost indecent enthusiasm. “She means well.”

“I don’t,” Lucien said, and he shifted slightly in his chair. “Mind her, that is.”

Cassian followed Lucien’s gaze to his plate. “You sure you don’t want any?” he asked.

“Well… I wouldn’t say no to a piece of that toast,” Lucien said, biting his lip. “And a few of the mushrooms, maybe.”

A smile blossomed on Cassian’s face in spite of himself. “Here – give me your saucer.” He took the dish and piled it high with mushrooms, balancing a piece of toast on top. “There might be some residual bacon grease – hope you don’t mind.”

“Not really. It’s just meat itself I don’t like.” Lucien pulled the plate back towards him.

“Can’t say I relate, but okay,” Cassian said, licking his fork clean. “You can have an egg, too, if you want. I have three.”

“Ugh. Fine,” Lucien said. “But I’m using my own fork after what you’ve done to that one.”

“What – this?” Cassian licked the fork again, more slowly.

Color rose sharply in Lucien’s cheeks. “Ass,” he said, stabbing one of Cassian’s eggs and transferring it to his saucer.

“I should start a swear jar,” Cassian said. “That’s at least the third time you’ve said that today alone.”

“Only if I can start a filthy innuendo jar,” Lucien snapped, spearing a mushroom with unwonted venom.

“I bet I can fill my jar before you do,” Cassian challenged.

Lucien groaned. “Not another bet. Rhys said that if I spent any more of the allowance he’s giving me on, quote, ‘idiotic bets with my idiotic brother,’ he’d cut it off.” It was clearly a joke – Cassian knew that – and yet…

“It really bothers you, doesn’t it?” Cassian said quietly. “That you have to rely on them like that.”

Lucien concentrated on cutting a mushroom into halves, then quarters, then eighths. “They’re being so generous to me. More than I deserve, that’s for sure, after the shit I let Tamlin do to Feyre. But sometimes…” Cassian sat quietly, letting him gather his thoughts. “Sometimes, it just feels like a transfer of prisons. I don’t have to worry about –” He cut off. “– about a lot of things anymore, but my life still… isn’t my own.”

Cassian nodded. “How so?” he asked quietly.

Lucien set his fork and knife down with a soft clink. “I have to rely on them for everything. I have no car, no money, no job. No… nothing.”

Cassian heard in that I am nothing, and his heart twisted.

He’d been right, the other day, about two things:  first, that it was indeed like Lucien was Feyre’s and Rhys’s child, or at least that they thought of him that way. And second…

Lucien didn’t just look like he should be stuck in a tower. He was.

“What would you need?”

“What?” Lucien looked up, and his good eye was dull, the russet-brown of the iris hooded in shadow.

“What would you need to feel like your life was your own?”

Lucien stared at him for a second, then blinked. “I… don’t know.”

“I think you do,” Cassian said quietly. Challenging him – pushing him just enough. At least, that’s what he hoped.

Lucien took a small bite of the food before him, chewing mechanically. “I guess the first thing would be to have a job,” he said at length. “An income. And… maybe a bank account of my own.”

Cassian felt hot anger roil in his stomach for the first time (though somehow he doubted it would be the last), along with the thought that he wanted to kill Tamlin. But he pushed it aside. That wasn’t important right now. “And you think that would help?”

“…Yeah. I think it might,” Lucien said softly.

“Then I’ll help you find a job,” Cassian said. Then he grinned. “In fact, I already have an idea…”

[1destinywrites-blog]

The Origin Star: Ch. 2

Fandom: Southpark Genre: Fantasy Pairing: None Rating: T (Language and Violence) Chapter Word Count: 5,099 Triggers: Implied Torture

Summary: It’s time to start a new game! The Drow Elves and the Humans have been enemies almost since time immemorial. Despite this, a tenuous peace was created a decade prior. But when the peace is broken, the land spirals into war once more. Only one thing can stop it: The Origin Star. An artifact from the time of the world's creation with the power of the ancient gods that shaped the land. He who holds it holds immeasurable power. But there are those who would wield its power unjustly. Will it bring peace and healing to the war-torn lands? Or will its holy glow bring only further destruction?

Prologue__Chapter 1__Chapter 2__

The arrival of a human captive in the village had caused quite a stir. The people whispered to each other, sharing speculation and theories. The human was sent to burn the village, some said. Another war was starting, some posterized, chewing their nails nervously. It was a human commander they had captured, it was a lost farmer, it was a lowly deserter soldier, it was a beautiful lady, it was a handsome man, and on and on the rumors flew. Very few knew the truth of what had occurred, and those who did were not talking about it. All over the village, the drow tossed around their rumors and did their work, and occasionally shot curious glances at the grandfather tree--which held the royal quarters in its great bows--where their High Lord was no doubt formulating a plan.

   And he was, indeed. Kyle, the High Lord of the Drow, watched as his general examined the prisoner. The general’s heavily scarred hands turned the prisoner’s face this way and that, and he let out a derisive scoff.

   “Are we sure this one is really all that important to the humans,” the gruff man asked, looking back at his lord.

   Kyle nodded. “According to the ranger party that found him, he announced himself to be ‘Captain Donovan’ and they reported that he was clearly the one in charge.”

   “A captain? Humph.” The general released the human, wearing the expression of one who couldn’t free themselves of some unpleasant odor. “There’s not a scar on this curr. So, either he’s an unbelievably fine fighter, capable of dodging every blow ever thrown at him, or he’s a jelly-kneed coward. And since he was captured by a group of rangers without sword or armor, I don’t believe it is the former.”

   “Whether he is a coward or not isn’t our concern at this time, General Alder” Kyle reminded him, taking a seat at the council table. Normally, the long rectangular table would be populated with elders, strategists, and advisors, but as of now, it was just the two of them and the hostage in the echoing chamber. “Our concern is whether or not he’s useful to us as a bargaining chip. What have the humans taken from us that is worth returning a captain to them? What information can we get out of him while we have him?”

   “My apologies my lord. I allowed my emotional investments to cloud my focus,” the general apologized. Kyle waved a hand to dismiss it. He understood how much Alder hated humans. He was one of the few remaining survivors of the Drow-Human war. He had seen numerous cruelties done by humans in his time. It was understandable that he would be sharp-tongued and critical where the prisoner was concerned. The general composed himself and took a seat in the straight-backed chair to the right of his Lord.

   “On to the matter at hand,” He said. “As you, no doubt remember, a fortnight ago we lost contact with a scout troop we sent into human-occupied territory. They were tasked with making note of the area’s defenses, the strength of the men, and the location of the vital supplies. Our goal was to eventually mount an attack that would chase the humans out and allow us to reclaim a portion of our lost forest. However, all the scouts failed to return to the rendezvous point at the decided time, and all attempts to discern their position have failed. In addition, we believe that a spy that we placed in the human capital was discovered and captured. James Valmer was sent to the capital disguised as a human bard with the goal of relating any relevant information he might overhear back to us. He, too, failed to appear at the rendezvous, and other spies we had positioned in the area have been forced to retreat, reporting an increased number of guards searching for disguised Drow.”

   Kyle sat silent for the space of several heartbeats, eyes tracing the woodgrain of the table while he pondered the information the general had presented to him.

   “How many were in the scouting troop?” He asked without looking up.

   “Five, my lord. All skilled scouts. However, if it came to fighting, I’m afraid I cannot guarantee that they would hold their own.”

   “I see.” Kyle put an elbow on the surface of the table and tangled his fingers into the fire-red curls that were only slightly kept in check by the royal wreath that circled his forehead. The fingers of his other hand drummed rhythmically on the wood. So, the humans had six hostages and they had one. How much was a captain worth to the humans, he wondered. Could they barter for the return of all six? If not, who did he take and, by extension, who would he leave behind?

   “Do any of them have family?” He asked the general slowly.

   “Two of the scouts are married; Asher and Amos. Amos has two young children. One--Magnolia--is engaged to her sweetheart. Aspen is the sole provider for his younger siblings after the death of their parents. Kanis is unattached. The spy, Valmer, is also unattached.”

   The information didn’t make the decision any easier. “Is there any chance,” he began, closing his eyes, “that we could convince them to trade all six of their hostages for our one?” The general blew a stream of air through his teeth contemplatively.

   “For a Captain? It’s unlikely, my Lord. For a general, perhaps. Or for a particularly loved fighter. But not for a Captain. In my experience, the most we can reasonably hope for is three. Four, if we’re lucky and this trash is as important to the humans as he claims to be.” Alder shot another glare at the prisoner, who glared back balefully, unable to comment, bound and gagged as he was.

   “I see...,” the Lord said again, more quietly this time. He knew what he needed to do. The decision weighed heavily on him as he looked up at his general. He caught the man’s tender expression before it changed quickly to one of solid dutifulness. General Alder had been his father’s general as well. The old soldier had watched Kyle grow up, and now he was watching the little boy that had begged him for bow lessons and war stories make calls on the lives of the people he was prematurely responsible for. Kyle pretended that he hadn’t seen.

   “General, would you please be so kind as to fetch me a scribe. I need to draft a writ of demand to the human capital.”

   “Of course, my lord. I believe there is one awaiting orders outside this chamber.” The general got to his feet and strode over to the large double doors on the opposite end of the room, his footfalls echoing like the marching of many soldiers around the room. One of the doors was cracked open and a slight-built elf slipped in, her arms laden with parchment, ink, and sealing wax. She hastily curtsied to the lord and then hurried to the table. Both Lord and general watched as she rushed nervously to organize her materials. Her parchment was spread, her ink was uncapped, a candle was lit, and a melting tray full of wax was placed over the flame. Finally, she dipped her quill and looked at the High Elf Lord, ready for his dictation.

   Kyle rose to his feet and went to the window of the chamber to look out, speaking loudly and clearly so there was no doubt about his commands.

   “I, Kyle Broflovski, King of the Eastern Forests, High Lord of the Drow Elves, Write to inform you, the King of Humanity, of our custody of one of your military commanders; one Captain Clyde Donovan. He was detained earlier this day--the seventh sun of Novetide--discovered commanding a band of soldiers through Drow territory. The entirety of the Captains troop was eliminated in the skirmish that followed their discovery. As of now, Captain Donovan remains unharmed.

   “I have been informed of your potential possession of a number of my men. The missing are as follows: James Valmer: Citizen Musician. Morgan Asher: Scout. Stewart Amos: Scout. Feylin Magnolia: Scout. Trevor Aspen: Scout. Wulfric Kanis: Scout.

   “In exchange for Captain Clyde Donovan’s life, I must firmly request the return of at least four of my subjects. This number is non-negotiable. The four to be returned are: Morgan Asher, Stewart Amos, Feylin Magnolia, and Trevor Aspen. Once again, the number and names of those to be returned are non-negotiable.

   “I assure you that Captain Donovan will remain alive, unharmed, and cared for until we no longer see benefit from doing so. I ask that you respond post haste with either your acceptance or denial of the terms I have outlined above. I also humbly request a report on the health and wellbeing of all six prisoners, should you possess them. I shall expect your reply before the thirtieth moon of Novetide. Should a response fail to arrive by that time, I cannot guarantee the continued health of Captain Donovan.

   “Such is the word of the High Lord. With Regards, Kyle Broflovski.”

   As Kyle’s voice faded away, nothing but the sound of quill scratching on parchment could be heard. He took the opportunity to breathe in deeply, quelling the guilt he felt at having to pick and choose his people. It especially hurt to have to leave James Valmer in the clutches of the enemy. Kyle knew him personally. The man liked to go by Jimmy. He had been born with twisted legs and a persistent impediment to his speech, yet there was no one in the village that could match his quick wit or his skills on the lute. He knew Jimmy was tougher than he appeared, but it still caused him great turmoil to have to abandon him.

   The scratching halted and the letter was read back to him. He turned away from the window to face the two inside.

   “What say you, General, he asked, “do you find my words satisfactory?”

   “It is not my place to derive satisfaction from anything you do, my lord,” General Alder replied faithfully. “However, if it is my opinion you are after, I can tell you that I believe your words to be well spoken and your demands wise. This should do nicely.”

   “Thank you, General. Scribe, please dry the letter and prepare it for delivery.”

   Under the watchful eye of the Lord and the military man, the scribe took in a huge lungful of air and then exhaled slowly over the parchment. A billowing cloud of purple mist was expelled past her lips, carrying with it the unmistakable energy of magic. The mist seemed to cling to the parchment, quickly drying the pine-green ink, and bestowing on it a level of water, fire, and dirt resistance that increased its chances of arriving at its destination completely readable.

Her long breath ceased. The mist dispersed, leaving the parchment seemingly unextraordinary in any way. The scribe’s deft fingers folded the parchment, then rolled it into a tight spiral. She tied it closed with a ribbon the color of the spring grass and then poured a dollop of emerald sealing wax onto the knot.

Now it was Kyle’s turn. His fingers found the hair-thin chain of gold that laid against the skin of his neck. With a careful reverence, he lifted it up and over his head. From the chain swung a pendant of opalescent white crystal in the shape of a six-pointed star. The pendant normally stayed safely hidden beneath his clothes, coming out only occasionally to act out its duty of signet on official documents. The scribe offered him the rolled parchment. Kyle took the pendant in his fingers and pressed it firmly into the lump of warm green wax, holding it there until the wax cooled and released the pendant with no sticking whatsoever.

“There,” he nodded approvingly at the now sealed letter, slipping the chain back around his neck and tucking away the star once again. “Please take this to the raven keeper at once. I want it sent out without any delay, understood?”

The scribe, who had said not a word since she had been called in, took the scroll and nodded. She slipped the letter into a pouch at her hip, gathered up her materials, and excused herself with another curtsy.

“Well, that’s done, then,” Kyle sighed, rubbing the back of his neck and marveling at how tense he was. “I think I’m going to try and unwind before dinner. General, I trust you can take care of our honored prisoner?”

“I can indeed, my Lord,” Alder confirmed, going over to Clyde and dragging him up by his bindings.

“General, I ask you be gentle in your search for information,” Kyle requested, already most of the way out the doors. “I told the king he would be unharmed. If you must use extreme measures, see to it that it doesn’t leave a mark. I don’t want anything to potentially hurt our chances of exchange.”

“I understand, my Lord.” Kyle concerned himself with it no more and took his leave.

He dragged the tips of his fingers along the wall, feeling the bumps and knots that comprised it. The keep of the Lord High Elf was situated in--and made up of--the branches of the ancient Grandfather Tree. The entire structure was made of living wood, rough to the touch and fragrant. The massive willow tree stood taller and spread wider than any other tree in the forest. It was said to be the first tree planted by the Ancient of the East. It was easy for Kyle to believe it. The air surrounding the Grandfather Tree felt as old as time itself and seemed to buzz with a long forgotten energy.

Through the living hallways, Kyle sensed the warmth of the great fire below him in the Grandfather Tree’s grotto. The wooden cave was home to the throne of the Lord High Drow Elf, as well as to numerous tables and chairs where the whole tribe gathered every night to eat together. The grand cooking fire in the center of it all kept the royal dwelling pleasantly warm in the winter time.

He exited through the grand entrance and came out onto the platform that circled the gargantuan trunk. The air outside contrasted the warm atmosphere he had just left behind, being chill and brisk with a slight breeze blowing through and giving motion to everything. He advanced to the edge of the platform and stepped onto the elevator: a separate platform, about four feet by four feet, with railing on three sides and a gate one could pull closed on the fourth. Kyle did this, then gave a rope that dangled above him a firm tug.

Far below, a bell tinkled, alerting the dozing operator that someone was in his elevator. He snapped to his feet and gave his donkey a firm shove. The creature began a slow trot around in circles, turning the great pulley system it was attached to. As the turning gears began gradually releasing rope, the elevator began its slow descent.

From his position in the gently swinging elevator, Kyle was able to see much of his domain spread out before him. The village had stood in this ancient forest for centuries, and the size of the trees made that clear. While none were anywhere near the size of the Grandfather Tree, the smallest of them would still take at least ten men with arms outstretched to circle their trunks completely. In the branches of these great trees, the Drow made their homes. Platforms supported the weight of houses high off the ground. The lower houses connected to spiraling ramps were typically the homes of the elderly or the ill. The homes built high up connected by webs of rope bridges were the norm for most Drow. And the small structures built almost up in the canopy were the play areas and clubhouses of the children. In the trunks and roots of the trees, one could find any number of structures carved out at ground level. Shops and stables, storage and meeting houses, places to sit and places of protection for the other pulley systems scattered throughout the village. The Drow were truly one with their woodland home.

With a gentle plop, the elevator came to a rest on the ground, and the operator bowed at the waist as his lord stepped out. Kyle nodded to him and began down a path that he walked often. All those he passed paused in their activity to bow or curtsy respectfully. Then once he had gone by they continued on their way. It was almost dinner time, so a majority of the activity in town was directly related to the preparation of the communal meal.

In the Drow culture, morning and midday meals were the responsibility of the individual. Food could be bought or traded from bakers, hunters, and shopkeepers. But dinner was a special time, meant to bring the tribe together after the tasks of the day had driven them apart. Food was cooked and eaten as a large group, and once the food was gone, someone would stand up and present a story: usually a history of their people or a moral fable. More recently, they had been presented with war stories from the survivors of the great battles. Tonight, the storyteller would be Ike, Kyle’s adopted brother.

Kyle approached a tree with a house situated close to the ground. Up and down the trunk clung the dying remains of climbing rosebushes, the onset of winter forcing them into a chilly sleep. Once close enough he ducked his head into a hollowed out arch in the base of the tree, intending to say hello to its resident. However, Kyle discovered that the hollow was empty. All it held was a threadbare blanket, a leg bone that had once belonged to a large animal, and the oppressive smell of wet wolf.

From behind him, Kyle heard the sound of a gentle, wheezing laugh. He withdrew himself from the wolf hollow and turned to face the sound. Its source was a stooped old man, smiling at Kyle with fond familiarity.

“Good evening, my Lord,” He greeted. “What, pray tell, brings one as noble as yourself to my humble, smelly wolf hole?”

“Elder Rowen!” Kyle smiled, reaching out and taking one of the withered hands in both of his own. “It’s good to see you.”

“Oh, you see me often enough at council meetings, young one. More often than is good for me, I fear. Every year the trip to the Grandfather Tree feels longer and longer. And then there’s that blasted donkey pulling the lift. It jerks and sways so violently sometimes, I fear my heart may fail me on the way up. That is if I’m not dumped off the platform first.” The old man chuckled.

“Elder, I have invited you to stay with me in the keep before. And the offer remains ever open. If it is so hard for you to go back and forth then please, make your home in my home. And I don’t want to hear anything about not being a member of the royal family. Given how long you have looked after me and how close you were to my father, you practically are my family. Please, won’t you consider it?”

The old man shook his head slowly. “You are generous as always, my Lord, and you honor me with your words, but I must refuse yet again. The Grandfather Tree is your home. This one is mine.” Rowan shuffled stiffly over to the tree’s trunk and ran a hand along an exposed section of the bark. “This tree has been my home for three centuries. It holds memories for me, even as the ones I hold start to leak from my head. And it is Stanley’s home as well. And though he is grown and capable of caring for himself, I don’t wish to leave him alone just yet. My time on this earth will soon draw to a close. But what little time I have left, I will spend with him.”

“I understand,” Kyle said, watching the ancient elder. He had offered Stan a place in the royal halls as well once before, but he too had denied him, for much the same reasons as his guardian; his home was right here in this tree.

“Speaking of Stan,” Kyle continued, steering the conversation back toward his original purpose for coming, “I came to find him. I was hoping to speak to him for a bit. But he doesn’t appear to be here since Sparky isn’t here either. Do you know where I might find him?”

“I thought that the reason for your presence. You always come calling for Stan.”

“As you said, Elder; I see you often enough at meetings.”

Rowan gave another wheezing laugh before answering. “Indeed. Well, Stanley went to wash at the spring. When he returned home he was absolutely covered in blood and dirt. He thought it best not to turn up to dinner in that state, and I quite agree.”

“So he’s at the spring, then? Thank you, Elder Rowan. I will see you at the meal. May blessings find you.”

“And you, my young king.”

Kyle watched the old man shuffle up the ramp and into his treehouse, noticing the way he groaned softly with each seemingly painful step. It seemed it hadn’t been hyperbole when he had spoken about not having much time left. The thought made Kyle’s heart feel heavy. When the Rowen disappeared from view, he turned and began walking swiftly in the opposite direction.

The hot spring was located outside the village, connected to the town only by a narrow meandering path. It took Kyle down a steep incline until he stood at the base of a rocky hill. There, nestled in among the tree roots, a spring bubbled gently, steaming in the chill air.

Kyle smiled softly, seeing a set of clean clothes folded neatly over a low hanging branch. A few more steps brought the stone surrounding the spring into view. There was sparky, curled up on the warm stone, his chin resting comfortably on his folded paws. Kyle shifted his weight slightly, the cloth of his great robes rustling softly. Sparky’s ears twitched and the wolf raised his head. He sniffed the air and his bushy tail began to thump against the floor. Then, all at once, the lupine beast bounded to his feet and threw himself at Kyle with an excited yelp. The Lord laughed as he was knocked to the ground by a creature as long as he was tall and significantly heavier. The wolf nuzzled and nipped playfully, the great pink tongue finding its way into Kyle’s ear and making him cringe with the sensation.

“Sparky! Get off! Get off of me you mutt! Come on off! Hey, no licking, come on, that’s disgusting! Yes, I’m happy to see you too, now OFF!”

“Sparky, down!” The wolf obeyed the voice of his master and slowly backed off, letting Kyle sit up and wipe the drool from his face. “Come lay down, Spark.” The wolf retreated and plopped himself back down in the warm spot he had vacated to greet Kyle.

“Can't you control your animal, Marshwalker,” Kyle asked, stepping out of the tree cover and folding his arms across the chest as he wore a playfully stern expression.

Stan shrugged. “So sorry, my Lord. We weren’t expecting anyone to be here at this late evening hour. You startled him.”

“He viciously attacked me! I should demand a coat from his pelt!”

“Oh, shut the fuck up, Kyle.” Stan balled up a soaking piece of cloth and threw it at the High Lord. It smacked into Kyle’s shoulder and fell to the ground with a plop, leaving a dark wet spot on his red robes. Kyle snorted and both of them devolved into laughter. Kyle picked up the wad of fabric and tossed it back in the water before sitting himself next to Sparky on the warm stones.

“You know how much I hate it when you call me ‘my lord.’ You’re not just some citizen; you’re my best friend. You have been for almost as long as I can remember.”

“First of all, yeah, I know you hate it. Which is partially why I do it,” Stan said to him, taking the wad of fabric and scrubbing it between his hands. On further inspection, Kyle realized it was Stan’s shirt, and that the dark stains on it must’ve been what was left of the soldiers’ blood. He was amazed at how much of the once green fabric was now a rusty brown. It served as a reminder that, while Stan was a humble ranger, he knew his way around a sword. “And second of all, it’s just habit now. Rowan has instructed me to call you ‘my lord’ since day one. If he heard me call you Kyle, he’d give me an earful.”

“But he can’t hear you. When it’s just us can we please drop some of the formality,” he pleaded? “I get enough of it every day from everyone else: I am Lord every other time, so this time let me just be Kyle.”

“Alright. I can do that.” Stan gave up on cleaning his stained shirt and simply tossed it to dry land to let it sit forlornly beside the equally sopping pair of trousers he had also given up on washing.

“Good. Thanks.” Kyle sighed and reclined until his head rested on Sparky’s side and he could look up at the broken fragments of the orange sky visible through the canopy. The wolf didn’t seem to mind terribly that he was being used as a pillow. “It’s nice to only be Kyle now and then. Can’t goof off when I’m the High Elf Lord of the Drow. There’s too much responsibility.” He trailed off for a bit, then continued, “Today, I had to choose who deserved to be rescued more. We could only barter for so many hostage returns. I had to leave people behind. I’m responsible for their lives, man.”

Stan went to the edge of the hot spring and rested his arms on the edge, chin resting on top. “You did what you had to do, Kyle. Even if you had to leave someone behind, others might be saved. That’s what matters.”

“Is it, Stan,” he asked, feeling the validation from his companion lighten his burden ever so slightly?

“Yeah. You can’t always save everyone, but you can usually save someone. One life is worth just as much as any other.”

“You say that, but your clothes are covered in blood. You snuffed out a bunch of lives today. Isn’t that a bit ironic?”

Stan shrugged. “I tend to care more about animal lives. Most humans are kinda garbage in my opinion.”

“Am I garbage?”

“Yes. But less garbage than other people. I’m garbage too. The guys in the forest today were super garbage. Like, toxic waste poured into a well kind of garbage.”

Stan’s reasoning was full of fallacy, but Kyle overlooked it, for now, choosing to take comfort in it rather than take the argument apart.

“Still, making that choice left me so tired. All I did was think and speak but I felt like I had just fought a battle. No wonder dad always looked so exhausted, even before the war.”

The two of them drifted into silence, each remembering a time now passed. Kyle remembered playing with Stan whenever Elder Rowan brought him over for council meetings with his parents. While the old people blabbed on and on about boring politics, the two of them and Sparky ran around the Grandfather Tree, playing knights and Dragons, Hide and Seek, and all number of childhood games. Stan was usually the only other child Kyle got to play with. There weren’t typically average folk in the royal dwelling place, and the elders were all too old to have young children. Eventually, Kyle’s parents adopted his younger brother, Ike, from the Alfar elves, and the boys got a new playmate.

“I heard Ike is back.” Stan’s voice pulled Kyle out of his memories. The young lord nodded, lifting the twisted wooden crown off his head and laying it to the side of him for the sake of comfort. His red curls sprang free of the circlet and mingled happily with the wolf’s fur.

“Yeah. He got back last night. It’s a long way to the main Alfar village. It’s already snowing up there, he said, so that slowed his return. He was supposed to be back three days ago. As good as the Alfar are, they can’t control the weather.”

“How was his visit? Any idea what story he’s going to share tonight?”

“No idea. I haven’t had much time to talk to him. I’ve just been too busy. Hopefully, things calm down quickly.”

“Things will,” Stan reassured him. “Hey, close your eyes. I’m getting out.” Kyle obliged and contented himself listening to the wind in the leaves, the gentle patter of water, the wolf’s steady heartbeat, and the flailing of a wet human trying to pull his dry clothes on before he froze solid. Once the last sound subsided somewhat, Kyle sat up and opened his eyes, replacing his crown where it belonged.

“Well, you’re not covered in blood, which is good, but you still smell like wet fur.” Kyle teased. “You almost smell more like a wolf than Sparky.”

“Oh I’m soooooo sorry, m’lord,” Stan mocked, “that I do not meet your olfactory expectations. Not all of us can smell like spices and flowers all the time.”

“I do not smell like spices and flowers,” Kyle protested.

“You do too. You just can’t tell because you’re nose blind to it.”

“Whatever. Come on, let’s head back. Dinner is soon.”

“Yeah, I can tell. I can smell it from here. It smells like pork and honey.”

“I don’t smell anything,” Kyle said offhandedly, well used to Stan’s seemingly impossible sense of smell by now. The guy could smell chocolate in the pocket of someone across a room. Stan responded simply with a shrug. Kyle stood, and Stan whistled, bringing Sparky to his feet and too his master’s side. Then, together, the three of them walked the path back to camp.