#I don’t get bum rushing him even after learning about his condition like…

[cruesuffix]

if I had a nickel for every time mick got hurt due to a fan i’d have three nickels, which isn’t a lot but it’s CRAZY that it happened thrice

[magicalforcesau]

Dancing With Ghosts in Your Garden~ Chapter 21 - Year 2: May

(ao3 link)

Palpatine would never expect his morning to start with something as pathetic as tripping over a potted plant upon entering his office. He managed not to fall, and bit back a sneer as he kicked the damned thing over. Someone had been in here… He could tell even if it wasn’t explicitly obvious. Not a single thing seemed out of place, but as he studied his desk it seemed to have been moved. Now that he mentioned it, everything in the room had been moved ever so slightly to the left, just enough to cause suspicion and clearly just enough to cause him to stumble like a newborn deer.

“Maul,” He growled, waving his wand in search of any hidden surprises, but had the madman tried to set any curses, his alarms would surely have been set off. Yes, he’d known he was close and had his suspicions that he was in the building.

A few days ago, the leeches had been let out of the potion storage. The Slytherin students hadn’t been very thrilled when several of them were found in their beds. Palpatine had dealt with it, regardless of how he’d prefer his house learn to deal with such trivial matters themselves.

The Slytherins he went to school with were much braver than the cowards of today.

Such an event he could chalk up to an accident, or a student lurking where they shouldn’t be. Yet even still, he found it unlikely that the leeches found their way into the common room on their own.

Of course he was the only one with such suspicions. The braindead ministry dogs stationed outside of the school had nary a clue to where Maul was at any given time. Maul would have to do nothing short of waltzing up to them in handcuffs before they’d realize what was right in front of them. With the sloppy way Maul was presenting himself, it was even more damning.

Even more useless were the pitiful dementors that couldn’t seem to find him even if he’d announced himself front and center. Though truthfully, Palpatine had some theories on that.

Maul had gotten soft in his time away it seemed, reduced to petty pranks and trickery like the student he’d never fully been. His former apprentice had never been particularly focused, becoming the killing machine of his namesake easily and with little prompting. Now, after many years to stew in the place where most lost their minds if not their souls, he refused to move his sights off of Skywalker.

Palpatine waved his wand again, righting his office to its proper position. He would not fall prey to such a mundane task as moving furniture, not when he had much bigger fish to fry. He walked around his desk staring a hole through the daily prophet left sitting there, Maul’s wanted poster still front and center.

If his former apprentice wanted to waste his time riling him up, he could do as he so pleased. Palpatine had worked too hard and too long to bring his plans into fruition. When he finally got his hands on him, Maul would learn to regret even the slightest action against him. 

***

“Did that exam feel…” Satine paused, still in shock as they put greater distance between themselves and the courtyard.

“Short?” Obi-Wan finished for her, clearly still reeling from the same level of unease over the whole matter. They’d all passed- even Hondo- but that hadn’t exactly been hard since despite all of the drills and practices they needed to run, the exam somehow only consisted of a simple apparition across the lawn and back. Such practices were normally not possible at Hogwarts, with the sole exception being when a class was being taught.

“Yeah,” She nodded, confusion still pouring off her in waves.

“Even I thought it was a little too easy,” Cody admitted, which felt like a true testament that Obi-Wan and Satine weren’t simply disappointed that they hadn’t been challenged, “Normally, you’d never hear me say that, but…”

“And this isn’t our typical Charms or History of Magic exam,” Obi-Wan said.

“This is something akin to a driver’s license.” Satine turned to both of them, “And I promise you that while not rocket science by any measure, the driver’s test at least tries to prove that you can do the basics.”

“Hondo fell on his bum when he landed and he still passed.” Obi-Wan added, concern knitting his brow. “Makes me a bit worried what sort of people they’re allowing to apparate.”

“That’s just it, my brothers told me about the apparition exam and they always said they made you run drills like they did in class.”

“I remember Qui-Gon saying something similar,” Satine bit her lip, “Do you think they did this because of everything going on?”

“I wouldn’t doubt it,” Obi-Wan said and they continued walking, “Think about it, we were all out in the open, with a murderer on the loose. I bet they wanted to get it over with and usher us inside as fast as they could.”

“Then delay the test,” Satine shrugged, “I don’t get what the rush was to approve all of us.”

“Maybe it’s a means of escape,” Cody said darkly. “I just hope it doesn’t result in any other consequences. I don’t know if either of you have ever been splinched, but-”

“-It’s not comfortable,” Obi-Wan filled in a bit too quickly for either of his friend’s satisfaction. Particularly Satine looked concerned at how immediate his reaction had been. She’d heard of it, of course, but as a muggle-born, it never happened to her. Most of the time, according to Windu, it was clothes or hair lost to splinching, but there were instances when flesh was wounded.

Obi-Wan cleared his throat before either could comment, “I suppose the bright side is, we passed.”

Neither were so sure how bright it was.

***

Ventress has truly anticipated expulsion or at the very least, suspension, and maybe this would have been the case under Headmaster Yoda’s rule, but whether she deemed it lucky or not, she was receiving no such punishment with Palpatine.

“I hope you understand where you belong, Ventress and see that I have afforded you mercy because of your family.” Palpatine said in that smooth, light voice. His eyes spoke of a different story. Something haunted him or perhaps he was the one who'd done the haunting. He was lauded as the kindly old potions’ professor, but she knew from experience that one didn’t climb so high up the social ladder without breaking backs on one’s way.

Dooku was that way and she’d been one of the backs he’d broken. She wasn’t even a high peg on a ladder to him, just a meager foot stool. 

“Did you write them?” She asked, because it was always good to know when she’d be expecting a howler in the mail.

“Not yet,” He tsked, walking around his desk, “Though I suspect I won’t need to. Word travels fast enough.”

Yes, this cursed world did appreciate a show more than anything else. She had never expected hers to be deemed a pitiful tragedy- a failed villainous uprising. She’d hoped that when her story broke that she’d have the support and care of her sisters at either side. Instead, as always, Ventress was alone.

“What are you going to do with me, Headmaster?” She asked, looking up into his eyes. She didn’t feel remorse for her actions, per say, just that they were evidently in vain. Like any true Slytherin, she was willing to do whatever it took to achieve the means to an end. 

Part of her wanted expulsion or to be thrown away without the key. Anything, at the moment, seemed better than going back home and groveling and pretending that she was an abused victim. She wanted, with everything in her heavy bones, for this to be her narrative rather than the reality that she was nothing more than a bookend to Dooku’s and his master’s. She loathed the concept of being used, of being the victim, even if she knew her survival would depend on playing that role.

Palpatine watched her with almost serene calmness, like he could sense the way her thoughts bled. Nobody knew Palpatine’s story, because he kept that close to the chest. Ventress wondered if they ever would, even after death. 

Everyone had their secrets. 

And Ventress missed hers. 

“Well, I’m stripping you of all authority, for starters,” He said, walking around his desk to sit behind it again, “Seeing as you are still a minor, I’ve managed to convince the Ministry to not toss you into Azkaban. If and only if-”

If there was one thing Ventress hated more than pretending, it was negotiating, which was a large facet of the pureblood world. People negotiated the terms of courting rituals, business deals, even social events and how they would proceed. It was all one big set of terms and conditions. 

Even if she quite possibly still stood solely for her pure hatred for Dooku, she still couldn’t help but agree with some of those ideals. Would she abandon them in an effort to sabotage him? Yes, without hesitance. It was but another means to an end. She’d abandoned so much of what she knew already. It was only icing on the cake. 

“What?” She asked, keeping her hands cross in her lap to prevent herself from clawing at the desk between them.

“You must tell the aurors everything you know about Dooku,” He said sagely, but it was clearly rehearsed, quite possibly just before she came in, “And my dear, they will know if you’re lying.”

***

Despite the waning student population and the heightened anxieties surrounding Maul sightings in the area, they were still allowing the Quidditch match between Slytherin and Hufflepuff. It seemed like a desperate grasping for normalcy from the staff members still trying to keep up morale. It didn’t feel very normal, however, when all four houses fit neatly within the bounds of the Gryffindor section of the field. The professors didn’t want everyone spread out and those with friends in other houses welcomed the opportunity to chat outside of class. Satine had positioned herself between Obi-Wan and Cody, they were sitting closest to the exit. She felt almost like she was being watched and kept glancing behind her, but there was no one there. Paranoia certainly.

“I hope Hufflepuff beats Slytherin,” Cody grumbled as he crossed his arms over his chest, “It’s the only way to get Gryffindor back in the running.”

“I think that’s fairly unlikely,” Ben nodded towards the field, a soft glare on his face, “Ventress looks angry.”

“When doesn’t she,” Satine muttered, ignoring Ben as he turned his concerned eyes onto her.

She was willing to put the experience behind her. Though she doubted she’d ever forget what it felt like to be slowly turned to stone. The girl in question had lost her title as Quidditch captain, but had remained on the team. It seemed though, they hadn’t gotten around to choosing a new captain because Ventress still approached Breha to shake hands. So it was simply the matter of losing a title and not really a position. If in fact Headmaster Palpatine didn’t bother to enforce such things.

Then again, she always knew he favored purebloods.

“Shouldn’t even be allowed to play,” Cody crossed his arms, “She shouldn’t even be allowed to be here at all.”

“I’m surprised they didn’t haul her off to Azkaban.”

“Do you really think a child belongs on that foul island?” Because that’s what they were, children. Satine didn’t think that such a horrible punishment would be worth it for someone who likely only recently turned 17. For something so horrible to be done on her account as well? She couldn’t stand for it. She wanted Ventress to find peace and she certainly wouldn’t be able to move past being a pawn for Dooku behind bars.

“It’s starting!” Cody grinned and leaned forward. At least this time since they were stuck in the back she wouldn’t have to worry about keeping him from falling over the ledge.

***

“Hey, Professor! You coming to see the match?” Anakin asked.

Kit Fisto flashed them a bright smile, which came easily for him even with the rumors that it would be cancelled due to Maul’s lingering presence. Anakin found that he was having a more difficult time offering legitimate smiles these days. Never did he ever consider that Maul was capable of drawing so close to the school. 

“Just making sure there aren’t any stragglers, Anakin.” He said, “We’ve all got to stick together, after all.”

“Yeah, okay, but make sure you come watch! Gryffindor might not win the cup this year, but it would be pretty cool to see Ventress get beat by Hufflepuff. 

“There’s got to be some punishment for what she did to us,” Rex growled with a clenched fist.

“And what’s better than getting demolished by the worst team in Quidditch?” Anakin said cheerily, although Rex didn’t seem so sure that was appropriate. Neither did the few Hufflepuffs that shot him dirty looks as they passed.

In spite of this, Kit Fisto laughed, his long green tentacles wiggling as he did, “Yes, well, I’m sure Headmaster Palpatine won’t let her off completely scot free.”

“I think he just let her play because she’s a good player,” Anakin grumbled.

“Now, now, there’s a lot more that goes on behind the scenes than either you or I are privy to,” Fisto said placatingly, “We’re all doing what we can to keep you guys safe.”

“I know.” Both Anakin and Rex said in unison.

“Even if I do feel like this might be testing fate a bit,” He gestured to the large crowd of people, “I suppose it is nice to see everyone so happy for a change.”

It was, but even Anakin, who had made some bold and sometimes foolish decisions in the name of fun, thought it was a little soon. He’d heard rumors that Palpatine was being pushed by the Ministry to hold the Quidditch matches anyway. Apparently, there was a decent gambling pool that relied on which team would come out on top. 

“It would make me happier if Slytherin loses.” Rex said.

He leaned down to their level and winked, “Between you and me? Same.”

“We’ll see you in there?” Anakin laughed.

“I’m right behind you,” Fisto nodded.

***

Breha was never one to underestimate her opponents. Slytherin team may have been without a captain, but she still knew they would be looking to Ventress for plays. They’d been working with her all year after all. It was, however, still something they could take advantage of. A few of the Slytherin players would certainly be willing to try and usurp the queen in order to gain the position next year and that would make their play style much more chaotic than it would otherwise be.

That was excellent for a team like Hufflepuff, who thrived in their teamwork. None of them had the same level of ambition as many of the Slytherin’s she knew. Ambition wasn’t always a bad thing, Breha would be hard pressed to say she didn’t possess some level of it herself, but in a situation like this, she knew her team would flow like a stream whereas their opposition would butt heads like a rockslide.

She knocked away the Quaffle from the golden hoops as she kept a careful eye on the bludgers that were being knocked her way. Her chasers were quick to grab it out from the competitive hands of two Slytherin chasers. Hufflepuff was steadily racking up points and although they were nowhere near to beating them without the snitch, it certainly was quite an embarrassment for the house of green and silver. Normally Hufflepuff would be hard pressed to get the ball through a ring at all.

“Get it together, you useless swine,” Ventress hollered at her team as she skirted dangerously close to their heads. If she likely wasn’t in the mood to get into more trouble, Breha wondered if she might hit them with her bat.

“Good job!” Breha cheered with a smile as her own team scored a point. The cheers erupting from the audience were quieter than they usually were, but loud enough to hear over the wind. Breha frowned, taking her eyes off the game for only a moment to search her surroundings. She almost thought she’d heard a scream.

She turned, around and narrowly managed to catch the Quaffle with her hands rather than her face before tossing it down field. The audience cheered again, but something didn’t feel right. Breha’s hands twitched on the handle of her broom. She could call a timeout, but she would hate to waste something over a feeling.

She glanced around again. Nothing seemed out of the ordinary.

She raised her hands to make the call when a loud whistle jolted the game to a halt. Breha dodged a bludger as they both went sailing for their holding crate. Professor Tiin was holding up his hands in a desperate T. She descended quickly on her broom and the rest of the students in the sky followed.

“What’s going on?”

***

“They’ve stopped,” Satine was surprised. She’d watched a lot of Quidditch despite her distaste for it and she certainly hadn’t seen anything like this happen before, “A time out?”

“Somethings up,” Cody was the one to respond. He was watching the field with interest, but there was a layer of worry that he normally didn’t have when watching even the most dangerous of crashes, “Ref called for their grounding; there wasn’t anything wrong with the game.”

“No penalties,” Ben nodded. He too looked concerned, eyes flicking around the stadium. Satine found herself looking behind her again. She no longer felt eyes on her, but she certainly felt like the hairs on the back of her neck were beginning to raise. Before either of them could comment further though, Headmaster Palpatine’s voice, amplified, filled the stadium. His tone was less than pleased.

“Students and Faculty,” He started solemnly, “We must immediately return to the castle.”

Chatter filled the stands at once, not just the children either, but Satine caught Professor Plo turning to whisper to Professor Windu. Neither of them looked like they knew anything.

“What about the game?” A fourth year Gryffindor yelled, “It’s against the rules to stop!”

“What’s going on?” A Ravenclaw third year added from a few seats in front of her. Satine felt like her limbs were full of lead as she reached out to clutch the sleeve of Ben’s robe. She had a bad feeling.

“The game is not important,” There was a soft sigh that was barely audible past a few outcries from the student body, “It brings me a terrible sadness to inform you of the passing of Professor Kit Fisto-”

Cries of outrage and of sadness expelled themselves from the student body. The Professors, while schooled better on their emotions, looked just as surprised as they stood, immediately gathering students and shuffling them towards the exits. On the field, Professor Tiin was doing the same with the Quidditch teams.

“It has to be Maul,” Ben hissed at them, “He’s getting bolder.”

Neither she nor Cody could make much of a response though, being swept amongst other panicked students out of the stands and onto the sprawling grounds. Satine only realized she still had a grip on Ben’s sleeve when he tripped and fell, and she narrowly avoided the same fate by letting go.

“Ben-” She started reaching out a hand for him when she noticed he’d tripped over a first year who looked rather shell shocked, wide horrified eyes filling up with tears. He must have fallen first and narrowly avoided being trampled on.

“Oh, hey there, it’s alright,” Ben had noticed too, taking the time to help the boy up off the ground, despite the shouts of professors for them to get back in line, “Come on, we just have to get into the castle, alright? We’ll be safe there.” Satine felt like she was intruding, but refused to leave them there alone. Luckily, the boy took Ben’s hand quickly and the three of them shuffled back into the crowd quickly.

As soon as the last student was through the doors to the castle they slammed shut, latching forcefully behind them. The doors to the Great Hall did similarly.

“Bloody hell, I thought you two had disappeared,” Cody ran up to them, looking relieved. His own brothers fell at ease the second he turned away from them, clearly he’d rounded them up first thing.

“Is Anakin-?” Ben whipped his head around to look and Cody pointed towards where Anakin and Rex were looking pale and shaken, but alive.

All were accounted for it seemed, all but Professor Kit Fisto, who had died at the hands of a mad man while guarding the far side of the pitch, alone.

***

A funeral for Kit Fisto had been held off grounds- somewhere in the middle of the ocean for all of his aquatic friends and family members to properly mourn him in accordance with their traditions. His ashes were sprinkled over the Mariana Trench, where he’d done some of his biggest work. 

His absence left the school caught in a limbo of uncertainty. Professors were in a mode of practicality only and it was hardly blameable. Maul had not only gotten within their barrier, but had committed a gruesome act of violence that some students had the horrors of bearing witness to the aftermath of. 

Kit Fisto had been treated not like a person, but a sign to be waved on a stick, to show just what Maul intended to do to each of them if they didn’t give him Anakin Skywalker. Classes were taught within the confines of the common rooms to keep students from traveling elsewhere. With the blocked off tunnels, it seemed like the only safe space to keep Maul out. 

No longer were even prefects allowed to walk the halls. Patrols were cancelled, and professors and aurors walked every space and brought food to students as well as taught their classes. It was a mess, really, and students were definitely affected by the change. Less and less faces were present, many removed from the castle altogether at the insistence of their parents. 

However, those who remained were downcast and gray just like the sky outside their windows. A greedy part of Obi-Wan was thankful that his friends were still here, even if the current circumstances didn’t allow him to see Cody or Anakin. He was surprised Satine’s mother didn’t bring her home, though he had his suspicions of the extent at which she knew. It was hard to tell with the muggle families. They didn’t get the same news as wizards did, but it seemed awfully callous for there to be no warning from the school. 

Then again, professors were quite busy working alongside the aurors to track Maul down. Part of him wondered where he could possibly be hiding, but really, there were endless corridors at Hogwarts that he’d never known of- not until the existence of the map, anyway. Even then, the fabled Room of Requirement was still out there untouched. Pure intentions were supposed to unlock it and he had severe doubts that Maul’s qualified.

This castle that they’d once been free to roam had shrunk significantly for all of them. He couldn’t even imagine being in Slytherin house and segmented only to the lightless space near the dungeons.

The news of Kit Fisto’s tragic demise took a while to reach outside outlets, for it wasn’t until an entire week later, shortly after his reported funeral, that they’d received a very dramatic and incoherent Floo call from Aayla. Even in the charcoal embers taking form into her face, he could tell she was blubbering like a baby. 

“HOW COULD THIS HAPPEN?” She wailed and the other students in the common room, who were a bit piled on top of one another, turned their bodies to try and allow privacy to the fireplace. It wasn’t like Aayla seemed to mind much.

“Er, I know this must be difficult for you,” Obi-Wan tried awkwardly as he searched his eyes through the room. Where was Satine when he needed her? There weren’t too many places to go, after all.

“DIFFICULT? TRY IRREVOCABLY HEARTBROKEN TO THE LARGEST DEGREE? HE WAS SO YOUNG SO KIND SO BEAUTIFUL.” She shook with tears, “Too good for this world, honestly. I don’t… I don’t know how I’ll go on.”

Obi-Wan didn’t think himself a callous person, but he sure as hell didn’t know how to navigate this conversation without further setting her off, “He will be dearly missed as he was a favorite teacher for most.”

“He’s more than that!” She bellowed, but it wasn’t intimidating due to the hiccups she’d recently caught, “He was the kindest soul placed on this earth like an orb of light- and I but a moth drawn to him…”

“Yes, of course!” Obi-Wan panicked, “I didn’t mean to reduce your care for him, I only meant-”

“Aayla?” Satine was suddenly knelt beside him, looking over his shoulder and into the fire. 

“Yes, Satine, Aayla heard the unfortunate news regarding Professor Fisto-”

“DON’T SAY HIS NAME IT’S TOO SOON!” She sobbed.

Satine flashed him a scathing look and he shrugged helplessly. Aayla did have a point about there being many extremely crestfallen students over the professor’s death. Beyond simply grieving a good professor and person too. Many of the remaining members of Fisto’s fan club were inconsolably upset, like they’d just lost the love of their young lives.  It seemed he’d made a big impression in his short time as a professor, even if not necessarily the way he’d intended to. 

Even on that scale, he’d be missed. Although reserved by bureaucratic restrictions, Fisto tried to teach them to fight, to protect themselves. In many ways, Obi-Wan preferred him as a professor to Dooku (even removing the sinister Sith stuff), because of how approachable and charismatic he’d been. Obi-Wan was in a bit of disbelief even still that he was gone.

“Did you see him?” She sniffled.

Satine tensed, but shook her head, “No, and I don’t envy those who did.”

“No, I suppose not.” Aayla said, “You know what my last words were to him?”

“What’s that?” Obi-Wan asked.

She breathed deeply to stabilize herself, “That I’d perfect resistance to the Imperius curse while at home. What kind of goodbye is that?”

“Well, you couldn’t have possibly known, Aayla.” Satine said soothingly and Obi-Wan wondered how she maintained the careful line of logic and empathetic. It would be beautiful to bear witness to under different circumstances that weren’t this depressing.

“Maybe not, but I haven’t even been able to do him justice by practicing my resistance!”

“Everyone’s having a hard time studying in this climate,” Satine said and looked around, “We’re all on top of one another in here.”

“Plus, rumor has it, someone’s fixed up a shrine for Professor Fisto in the girl’s bathroom,” Obi-Wan said.

“I should be there to pay tribute,” She said. “If it weren’t for my parents, I would be.”

“It’s better that you’re not,” Satine assured, “You can properly mourn him when you come back, when everything is safe again.”

If it was safe again. She hadn’t said it that way, but he could tell by her demeanor that she was thinking of it. It had only been a week since they were confined to their common room, but it was starting to feel very much like they were trapped. His only means of asking how Anakin was aside from the fireplace was through Qui-Gon and his daily visits. 

“I’LL NEVER LOVE AGAIN!” She cried. 

“Erm,” he bit his lip, “There there, he wouldn’t want you to be-”

“-He would never know what I want, because I, like many others, kept my feelings locked within my heart instead of on display. It’s the stupid logical side of me.”

“Well, he was your professor.” This was not the correct thing to say. “You couldn’t possibly pursue a relationship-”

“-Ben, why don’t you referee the first and second year’s game of gobstones, since you like it so,” The edge to her voice queued him into realizing that thankfully, it was not a suggestion.

“You still play that?” Aayla wrinkled her nose, briefly distracted from her woe, “That’s for children!”

“It’s a very tactical game, thank you!” Obi-Wan huffed.

“Kit liked darts.” Aayla remembered that she was supposed to be heartbroken.

Obi-Wan took his opportunity to exit before it was lost on him, feeling a bit guilty for leaving Satine with that mess to clean. As it were, sticking around was only making it worse. He just hoped that the other houses were faring better than they were locked up.

***

If it weren’t for the blanket of loss that stained everything, Anakin probably would have called their mandatory lockdown some sort of break from school. The concept of a “staycation” was lost on Rex and his brothers, but it was even less pleasant given the circumstances. The first day hadn’t been bad, since they all basically hung out and tried to distract themselves with snacks and jokes. Seven days in, however, it was getting tedious and it was even worse by the professors attempting to teach the entire common room at once, which meant that half of it was far too confusing and ahead of the game for even Anakin to grasp.

Plus, he didn’t have Obi-Wan to edit his stuff, which made a big difference. Qui-Gon did offer to deliver any parcels or letters back and forth, but that felt silly when he could always theoretically use the fireplace. Acknowledging that they might be in here for a while was starting to get to him.

“I’d give anything for a game of Quidditch,” Cody sighed as he flipped through a magazine on the very subject, wistfully running a hand on the glossy pictures that depicted summer fun in the most recent digest. 

“Quidditch? I’d give anything to do a lap running around the castle,” Rex added with a stretch of his leg, “I’m going stir crazy.”

“Need I remind you all that you lot rejected our suggestion for indoor Aingingein.” Fives piped up from his spot on the floor beside his twin.

“Yeah, and I’ll never be desperate enough to try that inside!” Cody said, “We haven’t even got any barrels to light on fire anyway.”

“We could improvise!” Echo complained. “It doesn’t have to be on fire.”

“With you lot, it’s always on fire.” He said pointedly, “Even if it’s not supposed to be.”

“I have always excelled with pyrotechnic spells,” Echo said smugly, “Definitely a strong suit of mine.”

“Of ours, thank you,” Fives corrected.

“Never thought I’d hear the day where you’re the voice of reason,” Anakin said to Cody, who turned his head lazily with a crooked smile.

“Process of elimination, kid.” He said, though Anakin viewed Cody as more responsible than he gave himself credit for. 

He felt guilty for allowing himself to feel monotony. Someone had died, after all, and the only reason they were all stuck here was because Maul wanted to eliminate the Chosen One- a title he couldn’t believe he’d once been proud of. They were all lucky to be safe within their common room and that Maul hadn’t incited anymore violence the day he got Fisto. Even that small consolation felt immediately hollow as Anakin thought of it. 

It didn’t stop the darkest crevices of his mind from generating possibilities of Maul picking off each standing professor and auror, leaving them trapped and with no real way of knowing what was happening. It was horrifying. Judging by The Daily Prophet, reports weren’t being as authentic as they could be about the sheer amount of danger they were in. 

“What’s the first thing you’re doing when we get out of here?” Rex asked him.

“Oh,” Anakin hadn’t really thought of it, “Probably never complain about having to wake up early for class ever again.”

“I hear that.” Fives said, “Getting up and moving to a different room sounds like a dream. Anything has to be better than sitting here wasting time.”

Anakin glanced over towards the other end of the room, where Padmé was perched near the window, allowing the natural light of the sun to provide an angelic glow on her face as she read the book in her lap. Even though they didn’t have to, she still dressed in Gryffindor robes and had her hair pulled back in two buns that were fanned out at the base of her neck and shimmering with a silver glitter.

In the pocket of his robes was the necklace he’d decorated for her. There were so many moments where he wanted to give it to her, to tell her that he painted it with his hands and that he knew life was short and that meant seizing it while you had it, not isolating him. 

He considered standing and approaching her, sitting opposite and inquiring about what she was reading, telling her she looked lovely, and making this anything but wasted time for him. 

The thought washed away faster than it appeared and an announcement chimed through the entire room, silencing everyone from the idle chatter that kept them sane thus far.

Anakin didn’t need to hear it before to know who it belonged to. 

“Professors and students of Hogwarts school of witchcraft and wizardry,” Maul addressed them all like a king addressing his loyal subjects, “Despite how the Daily Prophet might paint me, I am capable of being reasonable. You see I am not as young as I used to be, so I see no issue in leaving the castle and its occupants unscathed. There is but one thing that I desire.”

Anakin’s heart was pounding in his chest and he felt Rex’s hand on his shoulder immediately. It should have been stabilizing and comforting, but all it really did was serve as a reminder as to why Maul was even here. 

“Give me your precious Chosen One, and I will see to it that there is no more bloodshed,” Maul continued, “For it was not long ago that I was in your midst and though I was treated like a feral animal not worthy of teaching, I do have some sentimental nostalgia to this place. After all, every hero requires an origin story.”

“We do not bargain with murderers, Maul.” This time, Anakin truly did know the voice to be Mace Windu’s firm tone.

“A pity, Professor Windu, a pity indeed,” Maul remained completely calm and neutral, which Anakin hadn’t expected. They all watched the ceiling as though they waited with bated breath for him to sink through it. “Because until you submit to my conditions, I will cut through every single person in this school until I get what I want.”

“You will not succeed, Maul.” Palpatine, this time, echoed through the room, even if not physically present. 

A long pause, and then, “I’ll be the judge of that, Headmaster.”

And then, a laugh so sinister and cold that Anakin swore his blood was frozen solid. Everyone was watching him as the voices faded and they were only left to the crackling of the fire. He stared straight ahead, burning with an anger and fear so bright that he felt he might physically glow.

“We aren’t going to let him get you, mate.” Rex insisted severely, “You hear me?”

He didn’t doubt that they would do everything in their power to save him, but Anakin already had the guilt of his mother’s disappearance weighing on his conscience. He wasn’t sure he could bear another.

At the thought of his mother, he practically saw stars. This monster had been the reason his family, his home, his protector was gone. He took her and did who knows what with her. And while he knew from deep within him, from the small little voice that told him so in his most horrible dreams, he wasn’t ready for such a threat. 

But he also wasn’t ready to lose his mother and he certainly wasn’t ready to allow his friends to take any heroic falls for him. Maul was here for a reason and perhaps, that’s what he needed, to have it handed straight over to him.

“Anakin.” Rex said again and shook his shoulder, “I don’t like that look you’ve got on your face.”

He stared at his friend, memorizing the kindness on his face. He didn’t deserve him. “I’m sorry, Rex.”

“It’s not your fault!” He insisted, scoffing at the idea of it. “He’s a lunatic! He’s gone and murdered a professor because of a stupid poem that was written centuries ago! So what if you’re the Chosen One according to that! Isn’t Qui-Gon always saying the future is always changing?”

He was, but right now was the present, which Anakin could only control his own actions in.

“I am sorry for that… And for this,” He nodded, but then blasted his friend backwards with a swift stupefy spell, and raced out of the room before anyone could grab him. One of the Fett’s nearly succeeded and ripped a piece of his robe, but the door slammed behind him before he could be fully pulled back.

He was going to face Maul.

***

Satine, like every other student in the school, was horrified at the conversation they’d all heard booming in their ears. It felt like an immense invasion of privacy and had intended to have that effect, considering the initial source. They were lucky enough to have Qui-Gon present when it occurred for class, but any comfort that his presence might have offered was swept away when he immediately made for the exit with his wand ready.

“Qui-Gon,” Obi-Wan was paler than she’d ever seen him and watching his mentor with a fear they never should have known, “Don’t.”

“I will do what I must, Obi-Wan,” He nodded, “As will you, I’m sure.”

There was a passing secret language between them of which Satine did not understand and was not intended to. Whatever it meant, it caused Obi-Wan to look ready to snap in two right before her eyes. 

He opened his mouth to say something, but closed it, not knowing what to say at all under such circumstances. They were under siege by one man, who couldn’t be stopped by aurors or Dementors or even their notable DADA professor. She felt her heart plunge into the pit of her stomach as the severity of this dawned on all of them. For a moment, it felt like there was no one else in the room but the three of them.

“Yes, Professor.” He said instead of what he’d meant to and just like that, Qui-Gon Jinn was gone and the door behind him locked.

Obi-Wan stared at where he’d left for a long moment, fists balled and whether it was the angle of the sun or otherwise, his eyes looked glassy. His lip didn’t tremble and his breathing didn’t change. Instead, he looked rigid beyond repair.

“I’m sure he’s just going to Gryffindor’s common room to check on Anakin.” Satine said as she cautiously approached him to rest a hand on his shoulder blade. He didn’t flinch or jump at her touch, but it did feel like he had transported off to another plane of existence. 

“That’s exactly what he’s doing.” He said heavily and finally turned to meet her eyes, “Maul went to this school. Surely, he knows it well enough to know where the Gryffindors sleep.”

That had also occurred to her, but right now, standing in front of him, where they were both so desperately trying to grasp onto some semblance of hope, she didn’t want to voice it. She feared their time for seeking solace was well passed. 

“Maul doesn’t know the codes to get in.” She said firmly, “He won’t be able to get in and get Anakin. The Fat Lady wouldn’t allow for it.

He did nod at that, “Yes, it was a security measure from-”

“-The war, I presume.” She raised an eyebrow, “As everything is?”

“Actually from the amount of teen pregnancies occurring from inter-house relations.” He said frankly and it nearly made her laugh if it didn’t sound like such a believably ludicrous solution only thought of by wizards. 

Any light quip she was thinking of making disappeared into nothing as the fireplace burst into a hasty shout of, “Kenobi? Are you there? Satine? Anyone?”

They rushed to the fire again, recognizing their best friend’s voice in mind-numbing alarm. Any younger students dove out of the way immediately on instinct to avoid being knocked into the flames.

“Cody, I-” Obi-Wan hadn’t even gotten a word in edgewise before he was promptly cut off by Cody’s furious shout, which was no doubt trying to compete with the noisy background surrounding him.

“ANAKIN’S ESCAPED!”

“What?” It was Obi-Wan who interrupted this time. “What do you mean he escaped?”

“He’s going for Maul!” Rex cried, shoving his brother out of the way, “I tried to stop him, but-”

Anything else Rex said faded to the background, though she suspected it was mostly nonsense judging by how upset he clearly was.

No, that couldn’t be. Her heart was thundering in her ears at the implication. Anakin was giving himself up for slaughter, but she knew in her heart that despite his claims, Maul would not stop there. Violence only begets more violence, especially when from the hand of a bloodthirsty animal.

“Stay put,” Obi-Wan’s voice was almost unrecognizable. It was deeper, commanding, and completely unlike the gentle witticism she’d grown used to (and fond of) over the years. Had she not watched him speak, she might not have believed it at all. 

“Kenobi, don’t you even think-” Cody shoved back in.

Obi-Wan didn’t allow him to finish the sentiment, ending the connection and shoving himself off the ground with nearly as much speed as he’d gotten to it, aggressively shoving through a surrounding crowd, knocking Fenn Rau onto his arse when he tried to block him from the exit with tremendous ease. Satine followed through the space he’d left in his wake, desperately trying to reach him with a pounding dread that washed her into a blinding panic.

She caught his hand just before he could leave, in a vice grip that under different circumstances she would not use, but it drew his attention back to her, his eyes blazing with purpose and certainty. 

“Let go of me.” He said with strange calm.

“No.” She said, “I won’t let you do this.”

“That’s not up to you!”

“Like hell it isn’t!” She argued, “I won’t have you knocking on death’s door yet again out of some infuriating sense of nobility.”

“Satine,” His eyes softened as he focused on her and looked a little more like the boy who effortlessly stole her breath away, “It’s Anakin.”

She knew that. Her stomach curled and coiled at the vile revelation and what it meant for Obi-Wan, who despite not being the main character of this prophetic narrative, was a true hero despite his own self-doubts. And really, she wouldn’t care for him the way she did if he weren’t the type to run into the fire against his better logic for a boy who had always been chosen to him- prophecy be damned. 

There was no one else in the room as she contemplated just how dire this moment was and how pitiful it was.

“Please be careful.” She found herself saying in a voice only he could hear.

“I always try to be.” It wasn’t a promise and she noticed that. He would never make a promise he couldn’t keep. Not to her.

They stared at each other for what felt like an eternity and her mind raced with a flush of memories and regrets- that in this moment the cold reality was drenching them with how little time they likely had left. It seemed he was processing a similar line of thinking, because his eyes scanned her face as though memorizing every detail. Thousands of unsaid words passed between them, though even then she yearned to hear the real thing. 

It was now or never, it seemed.

“At Christmas, I-” His breath hitched, “I- Well, I’ve never…”

He seemed quite infuriated with himself. A crash in the distance caused them both to break their spell and Obi-Wan turned back to her, regret swimming in his eyes as well as a fondness that could no longer be debated. 

They didn’t have time.

“I’m sorry,” He raised her hand to his lips, pressing a single firm kiss to her knuckles, “Another time, I hope.”

And she watched him go, memorizing with painstaking clarity the feeling of his hand slipping from hers and out of reach as his perfect silhouette danced down the stairs hurriedly, never looking back. Perhaps, because doing so would make him run back to her. That’s what she told herself again. 

Her hand burned as she clutched it tightly. She had a duty to uphold too. 

***

Anakin ran, assuming logically that the grand staircases would be where Maul awaited. He seemed to be somewhat interested in being dramatic and Anakin could think of no better place to stage an assault. He’d expected to hear someone following behind him, a professor trying to catch him before he did something so stupid or a friend come to his aid, but neither seemed as crazy as he was to face a threat so great.

The closer to the staircase he grew, the more aurors were laid about, Anakin felt his steps falter as he purposely turned his eyes away. They were fine, they had to be, they were just… taking a nap.

Although even his own heart didn’t take the gentle suggestion at face value.

He saw green light reflecting off the wall up ahead. It gave off an eerie strobe effect that made Anakin hesitate. His wand was still gripped in his hand and he did know a fair few spells he was quite good at, but what did he know about going against someone so powerful? Countless aurors were lying about, clearly not able to take him themselves and it certainly didn’t seem like Maul was in the mood to play with his victims.

The thoughts of his own home kept his feet moving forward. His mother’s bedroom, covered with feathers and his mother, missing, possibly worse and it had to be at the hands of Maul. Who else would be trying to draw him out, but the man who was very clear at wanting him dead this entire year? He repeated over and over and over again the stunning spell in his head as he stepped out into the open area of the staircases.

An auror had just caught the end of a green beam and was falling down. Maul looked almost bored as he watched and didn’t flinch as Anakin did as they hit the ground with a thud. Maul had put forth no effort in his spree, but the thought didn’t deter Anakin from hurtling his own spell while he had the element of surprise.

“Stupify,” He tried to be quiet about it, but his spell still missed the man by a few centimeters. Maul had noticed him much sooner, by the way he just stood there, watching him like a predator would its prey.

“So you have the dignity to fight your own battles,” He flicked his wand and Anakin dodged, jumping onto a staircase as it pivoted past him. Maul stepped casually onto his own and they both spun around each other before their stairs clicked into place. Anakin held his ground, aiming to stay as far away as he could from the man. There were things he wanted answered and he surely didn’t come here to lay down and die.

“I want to know what you did to my mum!” Anakin yelled before sending out another stunning spell and missing narrowly. Maul was still unperturbed by this and stepped onto another staircase.

“What would I care about your mother?” Maul asked with a sneer.

Anakin’s heart leapt, he must be lying, “Y-you took her! I know you did!” He shouted, his wand still clutched tightly in his hand. He sent off a quick chain-cast, aiming to disarm Maul, at least then there wasn’t much damage he could do. Maul reflected it like it was a particularly pesky fly and Anakin’s spell slammed into the wall, showering debris all around them.

“I didn’t take your mother, boy,” Maul sent a spell knocking Anakin’s wand out of his hand and causing it to tumble down the steps. He shrunk back as Maul took each step down to him incredibly slowly, “But once you’ve been erased from this earth,” He grinned, sharp teeth grinding together in a hideous display, “I’ll send her to find you.”

Maul’s wand was moving and in a last-ditch attempt at living, Anakin rushed forward, jumping at Maul and trying to rip his wand out of his hand. Maul growled, a low dangerous sound before shoving Anakin off. Anakin stumbled, but managed not to fall just in time for Maul’s foot to come crashing into his chest, sending him tumbling down the stairs.

He landed hard enough to knock the wind out of his lungs, but in the dust kicked up he managed to locate his wand before Maul could aim again and he sent out another desperate spell.

His heart sank as Maul simply stepped aside to dodge such a thing. This wasn’t how he wanted his life to end. He’d thought he’d be avenging his mother, locating her, being a hero. He was the Chosen One, he thought he could live through anything.

Maul raised his wand.

Anakin thought of his friends who he’d come to love like family. He thought of magic and all he had yet to learn. He thought of his mother, out there somewhere waiting for him.

***

There were bodies upon bodies lining the walls, all aurors, and all dead by Maul, presumably. Obi-Wan didn’t look as he went, not needing the horrifying distraction at the moment. These men and women gave themselves over to protect them and were treated like dominos to be knocked over in a chain reaction, all leading to-

-He came to an abrupt halt from his sprint, brain whirring as it tried to catch up to what his eyes saw to the left on the grand staircase. It was a body, and not just any body, but Anakin, small and limp at the bottom, completely unmoving. And just three flights up, completely shrouded in black save for his fiery face, was Maul.

“Stay away from him!” Obi-Wan shouted, drawing his attention immediately. Time only continued when he noticed Anakin’s chest moving up and down where he lay. All hope was not lost yet.

That was not to say that they were anywhere near out of the woods. The dementors had entered the space, but even this offered Obi-Wan no false hope. In fact, by the way they hovered beside him with a slight green glow surrounding their usual complete blackness, it was like they obeyed Maul somehow, serving the very opposite purpose than what was programmed of them. 

Maul’s wand was sleek and smooth and undoubtedly did not belong to him originally. Obi-Wan knew enough about the clearances distributed by the Ministry that it belonged to an officer of some kind. He didn’t want to picture what happened to its original owner. Obi-Wan always struggled with conjuring patronuses, but if there was ever a time to learn, there was nothing like the present. He had to force his hand not to shake as he outstretched it, hoping he didn’t look as young as he felt.

He tried to channel happiness and positivity in a moment like this, in order to create the bright light needed to banish these dementors away, but every time a spark felt as though it might kindle, the gravity of their situation snuffed it out.  

Maul said nothing, just as he hadn’t in Hogsmeade, but he did bear a full mouthful of yellow-stained teeth that matched the glowing eyes that appeared hollowed out in his skull. There was only hate and suffering behind those eyes, never a day of love or care. If Anakin’s life weren’t on the line, Obi-Wan might have felt sorry for him.

He knew the moment he made a move for the boy, Maul would only charge, but they couldn’t remain in this uneven standoff forever. Literally, they could not, because the stairs would not hold still for anyone, not even for the theatrics of a bloody lunatic. So, while it felt like a longshot, it also seemed like his only shot.

Obi-Wan took the leap, dashing to the end of the stairs, tumbling and grabbing Anakin on the way, just as the stairs moved and swiftly knocked them at an alarming velocity towards another shifting staircase. As predicted, when he moved, Maul moved, but not fast enough and stumbled as the stairs shifted, toppling over a railing in the process. 

“Obi-Wan?” Anakin sat up and rubbed his head. 

He quickly inspected the boy, satisfied that there was no blood, but there would definitely be a large bump on his head from whatever fall he’d taken. They didn’t have time to dilly dally. They had to go. He grabbed Anakin by the hand and pulled him the rest of the way down the stairs to the ground level, flickering his eyes up to notice the dementors closing in on them like nightfall. 

For a brief moment, as the dementor positioned itself ready, Obi-Wan saw the future of Hogwarts as it was to be should Maul truly claim the school. He saw destruction, fire, betrayal, hate. He saw so much hate in the form of enraged yellow eyes. He couldn’t seem to feel his hands or his feet as the tunnel of darkness closed in on him. There was no life, there was no hope, there was no purpose. 

All he wanted was for it to be over… Just put him out of his misery. 

Why hadn’t Maul claimed them yet?

He saw his friends suffering at his failure. He saw the school itself burning to the ground. Cody was on the ground of the castle, a fiery hole in his chest that hadn’t cooled, unmoving and unblinking. Satine was surely next as she sobbed alongside him. Everything was painted in gray. 

In the reflection of the green aura that tainted the dementors’ ragged cloaks, he met Anakin’s equally disillusioned gaze. That spark that refused to ignite earlier dragged like flint on steel and rubbed rapidly, starting to warm him up and remind him not of the bright spots of life, but of what he’d come here to do.

Positioning himself in front of Anakin, Obi-Wan yelled, “Expecto Patronum!” 

Only an azure burst of light did not come from the tip of his wand, but somewhere above the dementors, taking the form of a beautiful blue and florid owl before circling and encompassing the dark phantoms with a blinding light. In the process, it knocked Maul backwards up a staircase and bolting forwards towards the person responsible. 

He knew that patronus. 

“Qui-Gon!” Anakin pointed up even further, where Obi-Wan’s mentor had thoroughly derailed Maul’s plans of following them by engaging in a violent trade of green and red bouts of magic back and forth, dancing along the stairs rhythmically, away from them, as though they were partners in an arranged production. Glass windows shattered and more dementors joined the game, never once standing a chance for Qui-Gon Jinn, though Maul proved himself quite the martial artist. 

“We’ve got to help him!” Anakin began to move, which stalled Obi-Wan from his shocked reverie and he grabbed the boy by the collar of his shirt and yanked him back.

“No, you’ve got to get to safety!” Obi-Wan said and held him close to his face, “You are in no shape to be fighting a Sith lord.”

“Neither is he!” Anakin pointed out the obvious, which was that Maul’s aggressively acrobatic fighting style was only going to wear Qui-Gon out should they continue to edge towards a dead end. Qui-Gon would have very little room to maneuver and parry should they corner themselves in a tower or a narrow walkway. “And neither are you.”

“I have to help him.” Obi-Wan said, “It’s the only way.”

He couldn’t explain it too, because it just felt like he needed to push forward. The logical thing to do would be to run back to Ravenclaw tower with Anakin in tow and reunite with his friends in safety, but he was drawn to the fight and not for any sense of bloodlust, but refined purpose. 

“I won’t let you!” Anakin cried, “It’s my fault!”

“Like hell it is!” Obi-Wan chastised and shoved him forward, “You are in control of your own actions, not Maul’s. The only action you should be doing is getting the hell out of here.”

“But-”

“No but’s, Anakin! If you never listen to me again, listen to me now: run. Hide. Get help, whatever, but you stay as far away as your little legs can carry you, alright? You are the future of tomorrow. This is only today.”

It wasn’t what he promised Qui-Gon, but if Anakin was away from Maul, he was safe, so if Obi-Wan could help delay that, he would. 

“Where?”

“Exactly where you need to be,” He said.

“I can never get those stupid riddles!”

“Trust me, you will.” Obi-Wan said. “Just run.”

“And what about you?” 

“I’m right behind you,” Though as they stared at each other, they both knew it was a lie. With tears staining his cheeks, Anakin nodded and ran in the opposite direction. Obi-Wan watched him until he was far enough away before turning and racing back up the steps again. Just as he did, they began moving, knocking Obi-Wan around rather roughly and almost backwards again, but he kept running and even dove forward to catch the next staircase by the hand.

For a moment, he was suspended above by only one hand, forcing himself to use all the strength in his body to lift himself and keep climbing.

Qui-Gon and Maul kept moving, the sound of glass shattering in their wake. 

***

Against every fiber of his being that told him to stay and fight, Anakin ran. He aggressively swiped tears from his eyes with his arm as he did so, trying to keep his vision as clear as possible. He didn’t know where to go or what to do. Gryffindor’s common room was the other way and he would never understand the Ravenclaw riddle to get in.

Obi-Wan had only told him to go, but not where, though he’d looked at him with conviction as though he had given him a clue. Anakin was far too distressed to think of any clues. Fear swelled in him, as he considered what his two mentors were sacrificing in order to protect him, to protect the future. They believed in him, but he didn’t quite believe in himself at the moment. Maul was going to tear through this entire school and if there was one thing that was proven, it was just how inescapable that was. 

He was supposed to be a hero, but he was trying to escape. It had always been the plan, but he’d never expected to have to do so alone. He was supposed to save them all, but he’d learned the hard way that he was no match for Maul.

His feet rapidly hit the ground, never once breaking stride as he tred onward. There was only so far he could go before he ended up right back where they were. He needed a place where no one would find him. He needed a safe haven. 

But between the Zillo Beast, Dooku, and now Maul, he’d learned that there was no real sense of security in this wizarding world. It was fantastic in both the best and worst ways possible, with no room for the mundane quiet of peace. Anakin never typically cared when it didn’t involve a sadist breaking in and trying to murder him. 

As he rounded a particularly sharp corner and briefly considered hiding in an empty classroom under a desk or in a chest, his eyes went round as he noticed not one, not two, but three dementors lingering near the dungeons. Slytherin’s common room was nearby, but they’d never let him in.

“Skywalker, what the hell are you doing?” Windu dropped in from seemingly nowhere, banishing the now mob of dementors that were swirling around them like a tornado. 

“They’re everywhere!” He yelled.

“How did this happen?” Windu asked.

“Maul turned them against everyone! I don’t know how!”

Windu grimaced as they closed in on them and kept Anakin close as he flipped his cape to the side and valiantly pointed his wand with the lethal confidence of someone who had done it many times before. From Windu’s wand, a glowing blue ram burst through the wall of spinning black to create a pocket just big enough for Anakin.

“Run!” He shouted and once again, Anakin obeyed. 

He needed to make sure he paid attention if he got to live to see the day patronuses were taught in school. Clearly, it was going to be an important lesson and one that Obi-Wan didn’t quite grasp yet.

Other professors were on the front lines of this massive fight against dementors whether inside or outside. Anakin leapt around one that was trying to suck the face off of Professor Ki-Adi Mundi, but was immediately banished by the vigilant Professor Shaak Ti. He never received more encouragement to keep pushing forward and away than he did in that moment.

Who would help Qui-Gon and Obi-Wan? Who would save them if all of the other professors were trying to handle the immediate threat of the dementors turning on them? His heart started to rattle as he kept going, approaching a dead end and slinking against the wall. The dementors came quicker than he anticipated even possible. Their long and bony fingers reached for him, ready to pull him into his own worst nightmares imaginable and to make them living realities. He’d snuck many horror movies in his time, but he’d never seen anything worse than them. 

Where was it written that the Chosen One would need a soul to save the universe? Nowhere, it would seem, because this didn’t qualify as death, but a fate worse than. He pointed his wand out, hoping he could also learn the patronus charm on the fly, but felt the immediate disconnect between his words and his wand. They were just words in the end.

He pressed himself against the door, never wishing more than to be anywhere but here. He wished he could have found where Obi-Wan was referring. He needed it. He needed that refuge if he was going to be brave and if he was going to fight back one day.

He needed- To open his eyes?

Because once he did so, he realized that he was in a completely different room that he’d never seen before. It wasn’t empty, exactly. There were old books stacked on some rickety tables. Cobwebs lined the portraits on the walls that chatted amongst themselves. They stopped dead in the middle of conversation when they spotted Anakin.

“Er- Sorry for interrupting.” He said with a wave.

“Who the blazes are you?” The dusty portrait of a man with dark hair and light brown skin frowned deeply at Anakin. 

“Don’t be rude, Master Ketu.” The hooded man in the portrait opposite to him nodded at Anakin, “Congratulations.”

“Do you even know what’s going on out there? There’s nothing to be congratulated for,” He said.

“Boy, have you no concept of what you have uncovered?” The man called Ketu pressed, his arms crossed over the numerous medals of honor that hung from his neck. 

Anakin looked around him, “Uh… A dirty old classroom?”

He pinched his nose, “I swear, these children grow more ungrateful by the years.” 

“To be fair, we haven’t seen a new child in over a century.” The other man said placatingly, “And there’s no way he can be worse than him. I am Ters Sendon, archivist and historian and this is Master Ketu, former leader of the old Je’daii order.”

“Je’Daii?”

“He hasn’t even heard of us.” Scoffed Ketu.

“An old group of warrior wizards who used to combat the ancient Sith during the old wars.” Ters said and Anakin gasped when he lifted off his hood to reveal horns protruding from his head just as Maul’s did. “What is it?”

“You’re… You’re like him!” Anakin backed away, nearly stumbling over a stray chair as he did, “You’re like the Sith lord that’s currently taking over our school!”

“I’m no Sith!” He protested.

“You look like him?”

“So? Sith is not a race, it’s a religion.” Ters said, “There are good people that look like me and plenty of bad people that look like you.”

Anakin considered that and realized as he looked at Ters Sendon that he didn’t bear any of the malicious traits that Maul had. There was no hate radiating off of his gaze, no yellow or orange to his eyes, no hostility in his voice. He didn’t even really look like Maul aside from the horns. As opposed to a stark red and black patterned face, Ters was more the color of leather, with beige swirls around his eyes and nose.

Ketu, not nearly as bored as he was before, stroked his black goatee, “You mean, the Sith have returned?”

“I’m supposed to defeat them someday.” Anakin said, “I’m the Chosen One. Or at least… I’m supposed to be, but I’m hiding…”

“Well, you’re much too young to fight a Sith, my boy.” Ketu said.

“Everyone’s been saying that and I know that, but how can I let other people take the fall for me?”

“Take it from someone who has seen plenty of golden haired heroes that were supposed to be chosen for greatness, you must accept that they are not fighting for you.”

“Ketu! How is that helpful?” Ters asked.

“Because it removes the pressure that comes with the position. Everyone has their place in this war, but you… You must survive. You must survive so that many others can live.” He fixed Anakin with a stern look, “That is why the Room summoned you.”

“The room?” Anakin looked around, “This place is special?”

“The Room of Requirement manifests itself only to students who truly need it.” Ters explained, “In your case, it’s to hide from this dastardly foe that breached your school.”

“If only I were alive… I’d bring this Sith to his knees.” Ketu sighed wistfully. 

“I can’t just sit in here and wait!” Anakin yelped, his voice echoing around the room. 

“Clearly, whatever you were running from had outnumbered you. You were whiter than a ghost.” Ters said, “And I’ve seen many ghosts.”

“Ghosts can come in here?”

“Not here, no.” Ketu shook his head, “We are the only portraits in the school that cannot move, but in our time, there were ghosts too.”

“Why can’t you move?”

“We must protect the integrity of the room,” Ters explained, “And a good thing too, because the last boy would have destroyed the place to prevent anyone else from finding it.”

“The magical enchantments were too powerful for him then, thankfully,” Ketu whistled, “I wonder where he got off to…”

“We need to get more people in here, to protect them!” Anakin said. “How can I let others follow me?”

“I think they may be safer where they are.”

Anakin wasn’t so sure. 

***

Qui-Gon had but one clear goal when parrying and deflecting the onslaught of fast green bolts that erupted from Maul’s wand: get him out of the castle. Hopefully, from there, other professors stronger than he could prevent him from entering again. Qui-Gon was no fighter by nature. It took a great deal of strength and focus and connectivity with his inner peace to remain in line with Maul’s attacks. He was definitely no one’s first choice in fighting off a man who murdered countless aurors in his wake.

However, the moment he saw Maul and his possessed dementors hovering over Obi-Wan and Anakin, he knew that this would be his fight after all. 

He’d never faced anything like this in his life- growing up in a time of peace was like the beautiful summer and late fall that preambled a harsh winter. Well, the ruthless attempts at his head led by the tenacious Sith was more of enough proof that winter had arrived with the full impact of a blizzard at their heels. 

Qui-Gon tried to analyze and predict the Zabrak’s next attack, hoping that his strategic capabilities would balance him against the superior fighting style that was the combination of martial artistry and power. There was much hate that spewed from every fiber of Maul’s being, so personal that Qui-Gon almost took it as such. It was like every person who stood in his way somehow became Maul’s target enemy and it was obvious he wasn’t used to anyone lasting this long.

Well, Qui-Gon did have the high ground when he snuck up on Maul and took him off guard, effectively clipping the wings that the dementors brought him. He wouldn’t even begin to question how he’d did it, save for that it was obviously an ancient magic known to the Sith. As they crossed the archway to the empty Great Hall, veering away from the direction of the student dormitories to Qui-Gon’s relief, and Maul was allotted true space to spew knives and broken shards of glassware towards him at once, Qui-Gon realized why this man hid all year.

He did not hide to feel out their positioning or to even tease them. Any of that had only been a cherry on top for the malignant evil before him. No, Maul waited it out to grow, to improve his strengths, to ready himself for this fight, because regardless of the ease at which he slipped through their clenched fists, he still expected a grave one.

“Protego!” Qui-Gon shouted numerous times in numerous directions, shielding himself from every blow Maul flung at him, but dodging an incoming killing curse as well. 

That was going to leave a mark on the walls. 

The candles came crashing down, bathing the entire room in a gray hollowness that he wasn’t used to, but didn’t ponder. It was only fitting that a Sith was trying to take everything good about this place with him. Well, he wouldn’t have it, not on his watch, anyway.

Their beams collided, his disarming and Maul’s for the kill, creating the collaboration of blinding green and red at the middle. It resembled a golden snitch at the heart of the contact, but despite having dueled Dooku just last year, Qui-Gon felt his arm, and eventually his whole body by extension, growing weak. Dooku had been going easy on him and he knew it. Maul would do no such thing.

Maul tapped further into his heat, bearing a tight grin as he pushed harder, showing just what the dark side could do, but Qui-Gon did not and would not envy his pain or his suffering that led him to such darkness.

“You were just a child, did you even get to choose?” Qui-Gon asked, trying to possibly tap into any shred of humanity left within the empty cavern that took place of Maul’s soul. That included, bringing up a history Maul did not want to remember. 

“You don’t know me.” It only emboldened his opponent’s attack, making the push and pull of their tug of war look a great deal more green than red. 

“Perhaps, I do. We were students here once, right? At the same time even.”

Maul remained silent and focused. He would not monologue for Qui-Gon. It seemed he was the sort of foe not worth quarreling with. 

“Give me the boy.” Was all he said.

“I cannot do that.” Qui-Gon shook his head.

“Then you will die.” He smiled. 

Sweat gathered at his temples as he pushed harder, channeling the peace that existed in harmony at his core, willing the spark to burn brighter than it ever had. If not ever again, now would be the moment.

It was not looking good. 

Until, an unprecedented blast of blue sent Maul skidding across the table, sliding into every stray glass and plate that had been left in shambles on the way. He was up and charging within a matter of seconds, which was remarkable on its own right, but this also meant that Qui-Gon didn’t have much of a second to breathe or consider that the wizard that entered the room was not a colleague or auror, but Obi-Wan Kenobi.

“Obi-Wan!” He shouted and moved to jump in front of him to be a last standing shield from Maul, as if that would do anything, but the boy was quick and immediately took to pursuing Maul with his own attacks.

“You shouldn’t be here.” He said.

“But I am, and we can talk about this later, no?” Obi-Wan gritted as Maul whipped out a second wand from his utility belt and let his robe drift to the ground. It seemed he came prepared for this very situation. It was a very unfortunate way to learn Maul was ambidextrous as he was just as proficient with his left hand as he was his right and was able to perform the same spell from two wands.

“We definitely will.” Qui-Gon fired back, but had to concede that the very last thing they needed to be doing to get out of here was arguing with each other. Not to mention, a very small part of him couldn’t help but be proud of Obi-Wan’s prowess for being so young. 

He’d never seen him like this before- so sure of himself and so determined, as well as so underdressed. His robe and jumper were completely discarded somewhere along his way here and the sleeves of his collared shirt had been pushed up. While still wearing the tie that symbolized his house with pride, he suddenly looked much older than the boy he knew. 

Even more than that, he successfully and quickly reflected Maul’s own curse back on him, sending the Sith dizzily stumbling around, though never once losing speed. 

With Obi-Wan at his side, he was able to take Maul on at a more even level, even with the two wands. He and his mentee practiced in sync together. They’d never formally fought alongside each other, but where Qui-Gon moved, Obi-Wan moved, and the two took to dejecting each and every distant move displayed by Maul.

That was not to say it was easy, of course. Between the physicality and ferocity of Maul’s magical and non-magical aggression, it was still throwing the both of them through the ringer. Obi-Wan’s face was red, but laser focused and never relieved with pride if he managed to land some sort of attack. 

They left out the doorway they came and through the third floor corridor, only further exhausting themselves the smaller the quarters became. Maul began to literally bounce off the walls, running up them and doing backflips to dodge and alternatively, to gain traction. As his history showed, he wasn’t purely invested in the magical portion of a fight, but the physical combat as well. 

Up the stairs they went to the very top, a difficult task when Maul decided to turn the steps into slippery goo in his wake and fire on the railings. Qui-Gon had learned the latter of that sequence on his own the hard way. Obi-Wan charged ahead, more athletic than he gave himself credit for, and twice as brave. It was a lethal combination, though not one Qui-Gon would fool himself into believing would be enough to seizing Maul completely. They needed to distract him until Windu found them.

They needed help.

Maul was quite pressed when Obi-Wan managed a leg-locker spell on him, though it was only one leg by his aim. It wasn’t his fault, since Qui-Gon had to shove him aside to avoid wand arrows that came straight for his head. 

Even still, there was no doubt that they were fighting better together. 

The ceiling of the pointed tower crumbled, specs of dust and later actual pieces of infrastructure raining down on them and hurrying their pace. When reaching the small bridge that connected the two towers, Maul blasted the center as he ran ahead.

“Where’s he going?”

“The classrooms, it seems.” Qui-Gon answered as he tried to catch his breath. “Anakin-”

“-Is safe.” He said with resounding certainty, his blue eyes sharper than glass as he regarded him with shoulders back and his jaw squared. He was still shorter than Qui-Gon, but it was evident now more than ever that he was a child no longer. Yes, Obi-Wan was ready. Or was it that he had no choice but to be ready?

It pained Qui-Gon’s very soul, because children fighting the battles of adults never soothed him. They leapt over the chasm and through the already crumbling tower that dwindled all the way down, catching Maul at his heels after a few flights of rapidly following suit. He was either leading them to the belly of his trap or he was trying to shake them. Qui-Gon didn’t know how that spoke for their success as his opponents, but was willing to take any wins offered to them.

They were far from finished in their pursuit, as the tower began to physically shake back and forth. Taking this battle to heart, or whatever stood in place of it, Maul turned, charging up the stairs with a sword at hand pointed straight at them.

On instinct rather than through thought, Qui-Gon pushed Obi-Wan hard against the side of the wall, narrowly preventing him from meeting the tip of the blade. 

“Stupefy!” He yelled, but missed and Maul went for the younger man again, a tight smile on his lips as he flipped forwards against the current of gravity and spun the sword straight towards them. Obi-Wan, who was stronger than he looked, caught Maul’s wrist before the finality of the attack could be completed. Using his entire body weight, he flung them down, doing his own half-assed little stunt to avoid being stabbed. 

Qui-Gon seized his moment to attack, turning the coat of arms by the doorway onto Maul, giving them three fighters on their side. This didn’t stop Maul, who only seemed delighted by the challenge and swung at the ground to encourage it.

Obi-Wan scrambled off the ground in time and trotted alongside Qui-Gon as the knight moved forward and Maul backed himself up to the wall of the rounded tower, clashing his sword with the knight’s, meeting every swing with one of his own caliber. Obi-Wan and Qui-Gon, meanwhile, tried to use this brief moment of distraction to their advantage and fired whatever spells could come to their mind. 

Obi-Wan had gotten even more creative and used a tongue fattening spell, likely trying to limit his airway.

It didn’t seem he even minded the limited mobility, though it only seemed to anger him that he was wasting his time. Maul had the advantage, being alive, but the knight had nothing to lose. Sometimes, that wasn’t a strength. 

In a fit of unbridled rage, which was the only way either Qui-Gon or Obi-Wan could describe what transpired next, lightning rang through the sword and Maul leapt into the air, bringing the blade straight through the empty head of the knight and using the momentum of this force to fling the still sparking helmet towards them, hitting Obi-Wan directly in the stomach and sending him flipping over the railing with the added help of Maul diving forward to punch him square in the face. 

“Immobulus!” Qui-Gon hollered, pointing his wand at Obi-Wan’s collapsing body just before he could hit the bottom stone at full-force. He was knocked out, nothing more, or maybe that’s what Qui-Gon needed to convince himself to continue edging through this battle.

The sword came down, achieving not a speck of flesh, but slicing Qui-Gon’s wand clean in two against the marble railing to their right. It was the closest he’d ever been to Maul and he understood why few wanted to approach him. He could feel the turmoil within this shell of a man, who was only driven by his own hate. He was like a walking timebomb who was expected to walk the earth like a person.  

“When I’m done with you, I’ll kill the kid too,” Only he wasn’t referring to Anakin, but Obi-Wan.

“You won’t have the chance,” Qui-Gon said and kicked up his foot to toss the former knight’s sword into own hand. He was taught to wield by Count Dooku long ago, adopting many different tactics. It had always been in a gentlemanly fashion before, but Maul knew no such artistry or decency in this field. He was a predator and while he may have been playing with his food, he would still want nothing more than to collect the prize.

They backed out of the exit, Qui-Gon pursuing Maul as their blades clinked and clanked at rapid speed, each performing offensively without any pauses or breaks. Qui-Gon took his first success as they approached the classrooms and he managed to knock one of Maul’s wands free and clattering onto the ground. The Sith swordsman paid no mind, flipping backwards and inviting Qui-Gon to chase him into yet another trapped space.

He knew he was better where he could be afforded more breathing room, but at the moment, this was not a battle where Qui-Gon dictated the rules. Rarely, did the heroes get to do much of that in history. It was all about adaptivity and believing in oneself and the magic that lay within them. 

“I am one with magic and the magic is within me.” He chanted on a harmonic loop inside his head, ignoring every fiber of his being that broke apart as they crashed through Professor Palpatine’s office of all places.

Perhaps, he was trying to pay a visit to his favorite professor. He looked disappointed even through the mask of focused disdain that he wasn’t present. He would never have known that Anakin might have been hiding here, after all. He lingered around the castle for a little while, but not long enough to see the students interact. 

Thinking a bit like his enemy, Qui-Gon seized the weakness, going in for an elongated stalemate of the inner strengths, bringing them up close and personal.

“Who do you work for?” He asked calmly.

He knew that nothing splintered more than serenity or moreover, when their dastardly deeds took no effect on their desired target. Predictably, Maul clenched his yellow teeth to bare.

“I work for no one.” He scowled and shoved them apart, spinning and beginning a new onslaught of attacks that Qui-Gon met and dodged. The dodged shots ended up as holes that would need to be patched later and each designated attack seemed to chip away at him more and more.

Maul might have possessed an eternal source of energy from the cruelty at his very core, but he did not envy him for it.

They shuffled onto the external viaduct, which stretched back to the courtyard outside the Great Hall again, back towards the common rooms. He couldn’t let that happen. Qui-Gon knew that this was it. This long stretch of smooth stone that expanded over the chasm beneath them, was where this needed to end.

As if reading his mind, Maul closed in on him, making Qui-Gon overshoot a swing and nearly set himself off balance. Maul’s sword came down hard on the stone balustrade to their side, cracking it with the power and magical tenacity it contained, before retracting and kicking Qui-Gon in the sternum.

He rolled, backwards, and landed on his feet just in time to collide blades harshly, feeling like the swords might break if they strike again. This didn’t stop either of them and Qui-Gon desperately tried to seek out a window to take the advantage. And then, he found it. Maul’s gloved finger twitched just as he was reaching for his other wand- a dirty trick in a match of the blades, but Dooku might have done the same in his modern state. 

Luckily, Qui-Gon didn’t necessarily need a wand. 

He snatched the wand from midair by the sheer willpower of doing so.

“Petrificus Totalus!” And while Maul leapt to the ground, his frame stilled in the air as he caught the end of the charm, hitting the ground hard with his sword stuck frozen in hand.

He let out a heavy breath of relief. He pointed the wand at Maul and tossed the blade to the side and knelt over him. Only the man’s face could move, so he didn’t grow too close at risk of literally being bitten, but Qui-Gon looked at him sternly.

“What business do you have with the boy?”

“Isn’t it obvious?” Maul chuckled lightly, “To destroy him.”

“But for what? Because he’s a threat to you?”

“No,” He would have shaken his head if he could, “Because he’s a threat to all of us.”

Qui-Gon frowned, “That- No, he will bring about an end to monsters like yourself and whatever master you refuse to name.”

“Don’t you see?” Maul said, “He is the monster.”

The words trickled through Qui-Gon’s ears like rain hitting the hard sidewalk. That couldn’t be true. He was to bring balance. Though, it was never exactly said how. It couldn’t be. The prophecy spoke of a united world and for the hero, which was Anakin, to prevail at great sacrifice.

Or at least, that’s how he interpreted it after much studying. 

“That cannot be.”

“It has been written in fate. I have seen it,” And by the legitimate fear that plagued Maul’s gaze, he could tell the Sith was not lying about having been exposed to a plethora of horror, “He is but the pawn in a greater plan. Just like you and just like me.”

“He’s so much more than either of us,” Qui-Gon shook his head, keeping the wand steady at his throat, poking the skin ever so slightly. “Especially you.”

“I am merely trying to save us all,” Maul begged, “Just as you think you are. We are not that different. Skywalker isn’t either.”

“Anakin is the hero of this story, not you.” Qui-Gon said, determined now, “I will see to that.”

“No,” And just as quick as he fell, he moved too fast for Qui-Gon to even blink and the sword that had seemed frozen in time was thrust right into the pit of Qui-Gon’s stomach. Immeasurable pain soaked through him as he felt blood from all over rush through him and a varying list of parables cross his mind.

Maul brought him so close that their noses touched, “You won’t.” 

He unsheathed the sword from the pit of Qui-Gon’s stomach and let him fall backwards, hitting the stone unceremoniously as sound seemed to fall behind in slow, deep motions. The blood rushed from his body and breathing suddenly became labored beyond measure. He was faced with warm sunlight, though he found himself only growing colder by the second. Slowly, the bright blue around the high sun was becoming a tunnel and getting fuzzier. The pain in his stomach was less aching as it was dull and detached from him. He saw stars and galaxies and far more than the human eyes could see.

He saw blackness that occluded the stars and realized strangely that it was a man in a dark cape. This was Vader, he knew somehow, but he couldn’t quite explain why. But there was more and as he looked into the stars that gathered in the eyes of his helmet, he saw the fates for what they were. There was so much loss in this montage of multiple realities that spawned in front of him. There was agony, hate, betrayal, death. So so much death beyond his own.

It was strange, to realize that he was dying and to not really care about the logistics of that. Instead, he cared for what he saw next: happiness, love, family, weddings, babies, revolution against an unjust cause, rebirth. 

He saw the back of a man with white hair and a beard to match and while his heart initially spoke to him of his mentor, he found that the eyes that turned to meet him matched another that would grow to be wiser than them all.

He saw the good in the blond boy that everyone else feared. He saw the duality of the young brunette who was capable of far more than her small stature dictated. He saw friends he did and didn’t know. He saw them all come together and he saw them win. It was an imperfect future, full of not one, but many heroes. 

Some that were chosen ones merely by their own volition. That fact settled hard and heavy. There was still much obscurity to meet the hope. Nothing, even at these far reaches of the universe, was written in stone. If there was one thing that was clear: Anakin was the key. 

And in a flash he was back for a moment, given one last breath of life and to meet the tear stained eyes of Obi-Wan Kenobi.

He failed. But there was still hope. 

***

“NO!” His cry was anguished and angry, his vision red like the blood dripping off the blade. He had already been running, hurrying to catch up with his mentor, not willing to leave him alone with that monster for more than a second longer than necessary.

He clearly hadn’t been fast enough.

He sprinted, faster still, wand automatically raised and flourished. A crack was heard as red light burst from his own wand and slammed into Maul, knocking him back a few feet and causing his sword to fly from his hand and over the bridge. He hadn’t even uttered the words, but his wand seemed to read his mind, connect with him and in this brief moment of connection, he hurtled as many spells as he could think of.

It was a dance of light. Maul had managed to pull his own wand out and was doing a fair job at blocking each colorful strike, but had yet to get an opening to counter. Obi-Wan tossed another stupify at Maul and it hit his protective spell so hard sparks flew.

“You’re too late,” Maul kicked a loose stone towards him, managing to distract him long enough that Maul could send a killing curse his way. He just managed to block it, the green spell falling apart just inches from his face. He staggered backwards nearly falling over the edge before launching another volley of attacks.

“I won’t let you hurt him,” Obi-Wan growled, although the pang in his chest reminded him of what he’d seen, what he hadn’t been fast enough to stop. He cast a smoke spell causing them both to be hidden within a dark cloud. Obi-Wan crept silently to the side, the only real chance he had was to catch Maul off guard. Just a few more steps-

A gust of wind kicked up from the center of the cloud blowing away the smoke screen and revealing an almost smug looking Maul. He grinned wildly, his yellow eyes gleaming like a tiger going for the kill.

Obi-Wan just managed to dodge as the spell Maul hurled blew a hole through the already crumbling parapet. He returned the favor with another stunning charm that did little more than knock Maul off balance.

Obi-Wan, however, took the opportunity rushing forwards a curse on the tip of his tongue before Maul fell backwards slamming a foot into Obi-Wan and kicking him back.

He stumbled to regain balance, but his foot slipped and time slowed as he desperately clawed for the edge of the bridge with his free hand. He swung there precariously, heart beating a mile a minute as he tried to think of something, anything. Maul grunted, he could only assume he was standing up again, making his way slowly towards what was surely Obi-Wan’s doom.

He looked to his wand, he couldn’t risk a spell, if he missed and hit the viaduct, he would surely be falling to his death. If he didn’t… Well he didn’t want to think of the terrible fate that would bring him. He swung his arm up, hand still gripping his wand, but allowing for him to pull himself up just high enough to see. Maul was approaching, wand twitching as he surely thought through every nasty spell he had at his disposal.

The dying sun came out from behind the clouds, reflecting its light off of something silver on the edge. A sudden burst of hope filled him as he whispered a series of spells that he hoped Maul took as nothing more than him praying for salvation.

Maul didn’t pause.

Obi-Wan dropped hold of the ledge flicking his wand upwards in order to soar up through the air landing behind Maul, just steady enough he was able to catch the silver sword, sapphires glittered across the bottom, a sight to behold if he weren’t busy lunging with it.

Maul had turned just in time to watch as Obi-Wan used every bit of strength, every bit of magic left in his body to bring the sword clear through his middle. The sadist had the decency to look surprised, shocked that he could be foiled by a scrawny 17 year old when so many had tried and failed before. Obi-Wan brought up his foot and kicked, returning the favor of pushing the Zabrak off the viaduct, he didn’t bother watching him fall.

The clatter of the sword falling out of Obi-Wan’s hand and onto the stone brought him out of his adrenaline induced daze and he turned his head almost robotically to where Qui-Gon still lay. He was breathing, but barely, each breath looked laborious even from afar.

“Qui-Gon!” One moment he was standing over where he committed a high wizarding crime and another he was on his knees next to his mentor. He ripped off his top layer and pressed over the wound desperately trying to stop the bleeding even though he could feel that his trousers were already being soaked through.

“No, no,” Qui-Gon batted his hands away, but it only gave Obi-Wan the determination to press harder.

“It’ll be alright, you’ll be fine,” Obi-Wan repeated to himself as he focused on the task at hand. A shaky hand caught his wrist and he tore his eyes away from the gore and met Qui-Gon’s deep blue eyes. Eyes normally filled with mystery and whimsy were focused just enough to quelm his fast-racing thoughts.

“Obi-Wan,” He pleaded, “Anakin-”

“Anakin’s fine!” Obi-Wan shook his head angrily, “I already told you he’s-”

“I need you to see that Anakin gets his training,” Qui-Gon grasped for his attention again and he gave it though he struggled too, “Anakin must become a wizard, he is the chosen one,” Qui-Gon spoke the words with a strong conviction as if he had been born with this knowledge and hadn’t found out along with the rest of them last year.

“Yes, sure, but Qui-Gon-” Obi-Wan tried, but froze when Qui-Gon struggled for a breath.

“Promise me Obi-Wan,” Qui-Gon managed to pant, “Promise me you’ll see to it.”

“I promise,” He answered, they looked into each other’s eyes for a beat more before Obi-Wan returned to his task, wishing quite desperately that he’d gone with Satine to those first aid classes instead of the dueling club, “But don’t worry about that now, I-”

Qui-Gon’s breathing ceased.

There were no other sounds. He couldn’t hear the birds in the sky or the breeze through the trees; it was only silence. He felt his mouth form words, but couldn’t hear them. He moved his hands from Qui-Gon’s middle towards his shoulders shaking him once, twice, three times. He felt tears trailing down his face and he tried to wipe them away, likely just smearing his own face with the blood of both that murderer and of Qui-Gon. Merging the two of their beings together like they were twisted up into some horrifying cycle of fate. He pressed his head, body trembling, to Qui-Gon’s chest, praying to hear even an unsteady heartbeat.

All he could hear was silence.

He stayed there, unable to move and hardly unable to breathe at Qui-Gon’s side, sitting vigil for his mentor, his most trusted ally, the wisest man he knew. Eventually the bubble was bound to break and if it wasn’t Qui-Gon growing cold under him it was the hand that fell on his shoulder.

He flinched, whipping to the side prepared to fight another enemy, but his hands fell at the guarded look of Windu’s eyes. The professor tried to pull him away, but he broke out of his grasp with more strength than he’d thought he had left.

“Where’s Maul?” Windu crouched beside him, gently pressing Qui-Gon’s eyes shut. Obi-Wan couldn’t find it in himself to speak and he shook his head to try and convey that, but Windu just grabbed his shoulders and looked him straight in the eye, “I need to know if he’s still around.”

“I ki-” He tried, voice croaky and ruined in his silence, “He’s gone. Dead.”

Professor Windu said nothing, just placed a hand on his back for a moment more before standing. He swished his wand, brilliant red and gold sparks bursting out and filling the night sky, announcing to all that they were finally safe. However, after the display of colors he did not lower his wand and instead kept it raised, the tip glowing softly in the night’s sky.

Professor Plo Koon was the next to join them, his eyes sad and mournful under the light of their two wands. Then one by one the professors arrived, each taking in the scene and lighting their wands in silence. Obi-Wan felt much too numb sitting there on his own, magic exhausted from the fight, to locate his own wand much less light it in honor. Qui-Gon had never been much for ceremonies anyways, but the thought brought him no comfort. 

The unspoken vigil ended as Headmaster Palpatine lowered his own wand, followed by Professor Windu. Obi-Wan was stood up by the latter, this time he found no fight left in him, and escorted towards the castle. He kept an eye on Qui-Gon’s body for as long as he could, but surrounded by the Headmaster and various professors it was impossible to see long before he crossed the threshold into the school.

[lightisdays2k]

Day 1: Role Reversal

Hi. Burning Phoenix here. So I lack a tumblr but I still wanted to share this. My take on Day 1: Role Reversal

He loved fishing. It was no secret that when he was not working on his duties, he would either be at the arcade, or by a lake with his gear. It was relaxing and enjoyable, no matter what his friends say. There was just something about enjoying a good, clear day while standing by the water’s edge and waiting for the perfect catch to come along. And the power struggle between angler, and the fish.

“Again with the fishing…”

Noctis nearly jumped at the voice and turned to face the culprit. He cleared his throat and regained his composure. “Hey Light... I thought the princess needed her beauty sleep.” He teased.

Princess Éclair ‘Lightning’ Farron gave the dark-haired young man a frown. “You’re the one who enjoys sleep more than a cat does. Makes me wonder how you of all people managed to make it into the Guardian Corps.”

“That hurts my feelings,” Noctis pouted, and reeled his line in. “I’m pretty good at my job, and you know it.”

Lightning crossed her arms. “Right. The guy who enjoys rushing off to grab his gear whenever he sees a body of water that’s deeper than a swimming pool, spends his gil on arcade machines, can’t keep his own apartment clean, and sleeps the day away.”

“You know you love me anyway,” He teased with a boyish grin.

Although Lightning would never say it out loud, she could admit that she did find him decently attractive. She did have eyes after all. But far be it from her to just babble like a school girl with a crush. She already had Fang for that, who enjoyed catching the eye of both men and women alike.

“Don’t push it, Noct.” Lightning sighed and moved to stand beside him.

He grinned and cast his line again, hoping for better luck. Especially now that Lightning was beside him. He enjoyed her company; she may have been stern and sharp-tongued. By-the-book and no-nonsense, but he had seen the other side to her shine through despite all that. Though he had to admit they did not really have the best first impressions of each other. Especially after she had learned he was one of the Guardian Corps, and bodyguard assigned to her.

Lightning had protested, stating she already had her retainers in Oerba Yun Fang, Oerba Dia Vanille, and her own sister, Princess Serah Farron.

As the older and protective sibling, Lightning had strongly protested against her younger sister acting as guard and retainer. But the Farron bloodline was a stubborn lot, and Serah argued against the firstborn heir until Lightning had to eventually give in. Somehow.

“Why don’t you try it? We’re here in the Sunleth Waterscape, the place is all…uh…’naturey’, and the water’s clear. Perfect for fishing.” Noctis said and offered her the fishing rod.

“You’ve been spending too much time around Vanille, I see.” Lightning raised an eyebrow, but accepted the offered fishing pole and took Noctis’ place as he stood back to let her do the fishing herself.

The guardian chuckled and rubbed the back of his neck. “Well…better than hanging around Fang too much.”

Unable to help it, Lightning let out a chuckle. “Yeah. I think we can all agree to that. She’s a bad influence enough already.”

Noctis blushed, knowing what his charge was referring to. He waved her off defensively. “Those magazines weren’t mine! Fang shoved them into my hands…!”

“I didn’t say they were,” The princess said calmly, never taking her eyes off the line and the lure bobbing in the water. “Before you came along, she dumped the same crap on me back then.”

Noctis stared at her and blinked. Had he heard that right? “She…did?”

Lightning nodded. “She did. I once punched someone who was…let’s just say, coming on too strongly, and Fang decided I probably didn’t realize how flirting and sexual intercourse worked so she tried giving me erotic magazines, then started giving me graphic details of how to please someone’s genitals and other body parts, as a way to ‘educate’ me about the birds and the bees.”

The guardian snorted. “The stone-cold princess…keeping erotic material and listening to details of how sex works?”

Lightning nodded. “Yeah. Pretty much.”

“Great… Damn it, Fang.” Noctis muttered.

“Don’t let it get to you. She’s always been wild and shameless. Be glad it wasn’t condoms from her secret stash that she threw at you.” The lure was suddenly pulled under and Lightning began reeling in her catch, her arms tensing as she began her struggle.

Somehow, Noctis was too distracted by the idea of Lightning owning dirty magazines and the fact Fang had a stash of condoms—for Etro knows whatever reason and activities she gets up to—to even react to the fact the princess was reeling in a seemingly big catch. He shook his head from any unsavoury thoughts.

Lightning was a grown woman; it was none of his business what she did in her spare time. Not that any of it mattered to him. It was just his instinct as her personal guard to think on it, he reasoned to himself. He was just thinking cautiously, that was all. At least, that was what he believed.

The sound of splashing finally snapped him out of his daze and he looked over to see Lightning pulling something in, close to the shore. She dug her heels in as the fish began to fight even harder. She looked so focused that Noctis dared not interfere, though he was tempted to.

When the catch finally made it to the shallows, Noctis stepped out into the water to help with pulling it as the fight left the creature.

It wasn’t a giant, but it was an impressive catch nonetheless. Once it flopped onto dry land, Lightning exhaled and lowered her arms. It had been quite the workout, but nothing she wasn’t used to. She looked over at Noctis who was grinning at the prize.

“This is awesome! It’s pretty big one too. Good one, Light!” He sounded very eager and excited as he pulled it over to her. His eyes sparkled with joy at seeing such a great catch. Fishing really was such a passion for him…

Lightning turned her head away as she handed him the rod. “Yeah well…thanks for letting me try it out.” She knew how protective and clingy he was over his fishing gear.

“I bet Serah will have a blast in cooking this!” Still happy with Lightning’s results, Noctis turned to his charge.

Lightning shrugged. “I’m sure. After all, there’s no way Serah would allow Fang near the cookery.”

Noctis laughed. “Well her behemoth ribs are pretty good. I guess it’s her homemade barbeque sauce. Even if it’s the only thing she can cook up.”

“Oh really? Then I guess there’s no need for me to cook up extra of my behemoth steak. Then again, it means more for me,” Lightning mused to herself.

At the remark, Noctis’ eyes widened. “That doesn’t mean I don’t like your steaks! They’re great, really! Please don’t take away my steak privileges…”

It was one of his secret little pleasures, tasting Lightning’s cooking. Or rather, her steaks. Like Fang, it was all she knew how to cook, but it was rare for Lightning to even bother with the cooking since Serah was the better chef between them.

Lightning pretended to think about it. “I don’t know…”

“Please?” He gave her the best puppy eyes he could muster.

“Fine. On one condition though…” Lightning faced him, crossing her arms.

Noctis smiled hopefully and stared at her. “Sure. Anything.”

The princess gave him a look. “Eat your vegetables.”

Now that was a deal-breaker. Noctis hated vegetables; they were evil in his eyes, terrible things that should never be put in anyone’s plate, let alone mouth.

“Anything except that.” Noctis huffed.

Lightning shrugged and turned away. “In that case, I’ll head back to camp. You can bring the seafood back.”

Noctis pouted at her retreating back. Lightning always did like playing hard-to-get. Stubborn Farron; it was in the blood. Serah could be the same as well, but Lightning was like a stubborn cat. Good thing he liked cats.

He hastily picked up the fish and grunted as he felt its weight. Thankfully it was not too heavy, but it still had an impressive bulk. Once got a hold of the catch, Noctis went after Lightning.

The princess paused and looked over her shoulder, letting her bodyguard catch up. She had to internally admit, she was rather fond of him. He was endearing at times, despite how much of a lazy bum he could be. He was indeed a skilled fighter, even able to match Lightning herself.

Not that she would ever admit that to him out loud. She did not need him growing a big head; his hair did enough of that already.

When they reached camp, Fang and Vanille were up and about, while Serah was just leaving her tent.

“Good morning, lovebirds!” Vanille waved in greeting.

Fang smirked when she saw the two walking back. “Hey you two! Where’d ya sneak off to? Went and got busy?”

“Shut it,” Lightning snapped and went to greet her sister.

Noctis groaned at Fang’s words and dumped the would-be meal down on the table set up beside the tents. It made a big thump as it made contact with the surface.

Serah made her way over to inspect the catch. “Wow, now that’s something. Good job, Noctis.”

“Actually…your sister caught it.” He rubbed the back of his neck.

The youngest princess turned to her sibling and smirked teasingly. “Did she now? Well, I’m glad you managed to find time to enjoy some recreational fishing, Sis. Especially with Noctis around to teach you.”

“Don’t push it, Serah. There’s only so far your sister privileges can take you,” Lightning warned with a frown.

Serah grinned and pushed Noctis towards Lightning. “I’ll get to work on making us a meal. In the meantime, you two play nice, okay?”

“Ohohoho! Rose Junior’s got ya there! Don’t be shy, Light. It’s normal to give in to one’s feral needs.” Fang winked at the two.

Vanille nudged her longtime friend. “Don’t tease, Fang. Let them have their moment.”

After the redhead pulled Fang away, leaving Lightning and Noctis with some breathing room. Of course Serah kept her head down, keeping herself busy with cleaning and cutting up the fish for the day’s large breakfast. However, that did not stop a grin from forming.

Lightning pinched the bridge of her nose. “I’m surrounded by…”

“Uh…yeah.” Noctis sighed. “Well except for your sister.”

Lightning shook her head. “She’s lucky I care about her so damn much.”

“Well, I care too. She is the other princess and all.”

An awkward silence followed the two. But thankfully, none of their companions decided to say a word. For now.

Noctis could not help but steal a glance or two at the princess. It still boggled his mind that a princess preferred to be referred to as ‘Lightning’. Despite the fact she did have a proper birth name, this moniker she took up was the name she preferred over the one she had been given. Strange, and yet it did suit her. She moved like her namesake and she even acted like it.

She had the grace and elegance of a wild cat and though she lacked the proper manners of a lady, that same fierce grace allowed her to seemingly get away with it.

But if anybody was even less of a lady, it was Fang. She was the definitive definition of a ‘wild woman’. Shameless and just full of teasing comments. Ever since figuring out Noctis’ infatuation with the eldest princess, Fang could never resist poking fun at the dark-haired guardian. Even Lightning was not safe from the relentless teasing. Only Vanille was their saving grace, but even she seemed to have caught wind of the hidden affections and enjoyed having her chance at a little tease or two.

Sometimes Lightning wondered how any of her companions, with the exception of Serah, managed to even reach the titles and ranks they had achieved. But it did prove despite their…sometimes childish tendencies, they were not ones to be trifled with.

“So…” Noctis began but trailed off awkwardly.

“So…?” Lightning raised an eyebrow at him.

Serah rolled her eyes at the sad display. She was well aware of her sister’s fondness for Noctis, but being the eldest Farron heir, and a Farron in general, Lightning was ever-so stubborn about it. She could openly feel like a regular woman and not someone of royal blood, thanks to the dark-haired bodyguard of hers, and she was able to enjoy the company of someone she could trust and treat her well as a person. Despite the growing affections, it seems even Lightning herself was either unaware of them, or she merely tried to push it to the back of her mind.

However, Serah could say the same about Noctis. The man clearly had a crush on her sister and Lightning was well aware of it. Noctis may be what one would typically describe as the dark and handsome type, though he acted anything but. He was sweet and shy and was an everyday man. Despite his duties as the personal guard of the princesses of Bodhum, Noctis enjoyed the simple pleasures life had to offer. He could make friends easily if he wanted to and he was capable of being serious when the situation called for it. And yet he was unable to properly confront Lightning with his affections without stumbling like a schoolboy.

Serah added the finishing touches to her seafood dish and decided that the two lovebirds had enough embarrassment for the day. For now.

“Alright, everyone! Time to eat!” The youngest princess announced.

Lightning and Noctis glanced over at her before exchanging looks at each other. They’ll get a chance to talk. Later.

The princesses and their entourage then found themselves at the center of their campsite, enjoying Serah’s home cooking away from home. They still had many miles and days before they reached Eden, but the journey itself was definitely going to be a memorable one.

[no-she-wasnt-reddie]

While We Were Sleeping

I wrote this fic based on this post here from @cosersllub, who graciously let me use their post to inspire this fic.

Pairing: Richie Tozier/Eddie Kaspbrak

Word count: 4327

There is a lot of internal dialog in this fic, so in order to keep track of whose thoughts are whose, I’ve put Eddie’s thoughts in blue and Richie’s thought in red. 

This is the first fic I’ve written in a very long time, and it’s my first Reddie fic ever. So please leave any constructive criticism you might have for me and if you want more writing, send me some requests! Thanks! xx

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Instead of going out with his friends at the carnival, Richie is holed up in his room on a Friday night, sitting at his desk listening to records and painting his nails black. Well, painting might be a bit of a stretch. He is coloring in the nails on his left hand with a black Sharpie marker because Beverly isn’t here to use real nail polish. He hates being alone, but he also did not want to be with his friends tonight, especially with him. Richie turns up the volume on his record player in an attempt to drown out the sound of his own thoughts. Stop thinking about him like that, Rich. He is your best friend, nothing more. He is only your best friend. He has been repeating the same words in head over and over all night, but it is not stopping thoughts of Eddie laughing at one of his stupid jokes, with his eyes shining and his nose scrunched and his mouth upturned in the cutest smile. Stop it, Richie. He is only your friend. Eddie is your friend. He shakes his head, as if he is trying to literally shake the thought from his mind. He focuses back on his nails, trying desperately not to let his ADHD-riddled mind take him back to places where it shouldn’t go.

Eddie hates his mother. After going the carnival with his friends and being bummed that Richie wasn’t there, he biked home as quickly as possible. He had hung around for a little longer than he had been planning to, just to see if he might show up eventually. He asked everyone if Richie had mentioned that he wouldn’t be coming, but they all shook their heads. Something must be up. Richie always lets us know if he isn’t going to make it to hang out. He had planned on stopping by Richie’s on his way home, but he didn’t realize what time it was. Ugh, Mommy is gonna kill me. Eddie got home a little after nine, which is when he said he would actually be home. He tried to be as quiet as possible when he came in the front door, but his mother was standing right in the entry way, ready to give him more than a stern talking-to. While Sonia never physically hit Eddie, her words sure packed a punch—of guilt. She went on and on about how he could have been dead in a ditch for all she knew, and he was lucky she didn’t get the police involved, and blah, blah, blah. Over the years, Eddie had learned how to tune his mother out for the most part. After finding out that his medications were placebos and his mother had been faking his illnesses, she lost a bit of her hold on Eddie; he wouldn’t be so easily controlled. Even after all of that, however, there was still a part of Eddie that wanted to make his mother happy, wanted to ease her worries. So he continued to take the medications, on the condition that she let him hang out with his friends and never say another bad thing about them. This was proving to be difficult as she brought up Richie in her rant, which effectively snapped Eddie out of his thoughts. “…And that Tozier boy is trouble; he is probably the reason you are out past your curfew.” A rush of anger flared up in Eddie. “He wasn’t even out with us tonight! You can’t blame Richie for everything!” At this, Eddie turned and stomped up the stairs, making a show of things by slamming his door shut. His mother called up after him, but Eddie ignored her. I need to get out of here.

Richie is just finishing the nails on his left hand when he hears a small tapping sound. He looks around the room and doesn’t notice anything out of the ordinary, so he returns his focus to his nails. Then, he hears a louder knocking, right on his first-story window. He turns down his music and looks over to see the one person he is trying not to think about. Eddie is standing outside his window with a backpack slung over his shoulder, and he waves and gestures for Richie to let him in. Richie’s heart starts beating faster in his chest. He is your best friend, Richie. Eddie is just your best friend. Your very cute best friend. Ugh Richie, you are hopeless. Richie walks over to the window and slides it open. Eddie smiles up at him, “Hey Rich, where were you tonight? I missed you!” I really did miss you, Rich. Like a lot. Richie’s heart jumps into this throat. Stop it. Richie clears his throat before saying, “Yeah I just wasn’t feeling up to going to the carnival tonight.” He tries to keep his eyes on Eddie, but they keep averting to the floor. Eddie looks up at Richie with confusion, trying to decipher the look on his face. Something is definitely going on with Richie. He hasn’t been this quiet since… well I don’t think he’s ever been this quiet. Maybe something happened? Why does he have to be here, looking all cute and saying he missed me? Why is this feeling physically hurting me?

“Umm, Rich, can you help me up?” Richie snaps out of his thoughts and scrambles to pull Eddie in. “Yeah, sorry Eds.” Richie sticks out his hand, “Here, I’ll pull you in.” Eddie reaches to grab Richie’s hand, which causes a jolt to shoot up Richie’s arm. I wish I could hold his hand for real. Great, I can’t even touch him without these stupid thoughts invading my mind. Eddie plants his foot wrong on the window frame, slipping and falling into the room. Richie tries to catch him, but he ends up losing his own balance, so they fall to the floor together. Eddie lands on Richie with an oof, their limbs a tangled mess. Oops my bad. Oh my god. Oh my god. Oh my god. Eddie starts laughing and scrambles up from the ground, reaching a hand out to help Richie up. Richie turns a light shade of pink as he takes his hand, standing up and laughing awkwardly, reaching a hand up to rub the back of his neck.

Eddie brushes his clothes off and straightens out his fanny pack as his eyes sweep Richie’s room. It still the organized mess it always is, with records in large stacks next to his desk, which is covered in papers, and comics strewn across the floor. This feels familiar to him, even though the look Richie is giving him is something entirely new. Eddie looks back to meet Richie’s eyes, but he quickly looks away. Shit, way to be obvious, dumbass. Eddie clears his throat as he walks over to Richie’s desk. “So what have you been up to tonight, man? You ditched us to hang out with your rock albums?” Maybe if I can get under his skin he will stop acting so weird. Richie laughs a laugh that doesn’t quite meet his eyes. “Yeah, better than seeing your ugly mug,” Richie says with a smirk. There, maybe if I call him ugly, he won’t figure out how cute I think he is. Some unknown tension lessens as Eddie laughs back. Okay, this is my Richie.

“So really, what have you been doing all night?��� Richie shrugs and lifts up his left hand to show off his black Sharpie nails. “I’ve only done one hand because I can’t really do the other with my left hand.” Richie sits back down at his desk and picks up the Sharpie with his left hand. “See? I can’t even hold it right.” Eddie giggles and grabs an empty milk crate meant to hold records. Ugh really? A giggle? Like that isn’t the most adorable thing I’ve ever heard. He flips it to create a makeshift seat next to Richie. “May I?” Eddie holds out his hand, asking for the Sharpie. Richie hands it over to Eddie who uncaps it. He leans over Richie’s hand, some strands of hair falling into his face. Cute, cute, cute. Eddie starts coloring in the nails on Richie’s right hand, completely immersed in the task.

Richie can’t help but stare at Eddie’s face while he works. He is making his concentration face, the one where his brows furrow together and his tongue sticks out of the corner of his mouth. Oh my god, his mouth. I want to kiss that mouth. Woah, dude, chill the fuck out. Richie hones in on every freckle dusted across Eddie’s cheeks, that little scar above his left eyebrow that he got during the rock war when they were kids, the way his long eyelashes curl upward. Wow, I’m really fucking screwed. Richie is so focused on Eddie’s face that he doesn’t even notice that Eddie is done.

Wow I don’t think Richie has ever stayed this still for this long. Eddie looks up at Richie through his eyelashes, curious as to why he is so quiet and still. Eddie sees Richie staring at him. His heart jumps a little in his chest when he sees the look on Richie’s face. His face is so serene, almost peaceful, like he could sit here and stare all day. Is he actually looking at me like that, or is he just zoned out? “Earth to Richie? Where’d you go?” Eddie asks with a small smile on his face, while waving a hand in front of Richie. He breaks out of his trance, and his face flushes profusely. Oh fuck me, I’m caught. “Hah, sorry Eds, I was just thinking about that time I fucked your mom.” “Oh gross, you dickwad!” Eddie shoves Richie out of his desk chair and laughs when Richie flops to the floor. From his spot on the floor, Richie turns to face Eddie. “So, whatcha wanna do? I know you didn’t come all the way over here just to color in my nails for me.” No, I actually wanted to check on you and make sure everything is okay. I was bummed you didn’t come out tonight. “I don’t know, thought maybe we could just hang out for a little bit? I had to get out of the house, away from my mom.”

So hang out is just what they do. They listen to Richie’s records, mostly rock, but he put on a pop album just for Eddie every so often. They play cards; well, Richie tries to teach Eddie how to play cards, using M&Ms to bet instead of money. Richie ends up winning the majority of the chocolate, but he still shares it with Eddie while they lay around on their backs, reading Richie’s comic books. I’m glad it’s just the two of us hanging out tonight. I don’t want to go back home.

“Hey Eds, don’t you have to be getting home soon? It’s getting pretty late; your mom is gonna go ballistic.” Richie turns his head to look at Eddie with a sad smile on his face. Ugh I don’t want you to leave, but I don’t want to get you in trouble, Eds. Eddie turns onto his stomach, running a hand over Richie’s beige carpet, watching the color change as he drags his hand back and forth. “Rich, I really don’t want to go back home tonight. I can hardly stand being home with my mom anymore.” Please let me stay. Richie shrugs his shoulders and looks around, avoiding Eddie’s eyes. “Umm okay Eds, you can just stay here tonight then. I mean, it’s the weekend, so it’s not like we have to get up early tomorrow or anything.” Fuck, what am I doing? He can’t stay here. I am already at my breaking point. There’s no way we can sleep in the same bed or I might die.

Eddie smiles so big that Richie can feel literally feel his heart cracking. God, why does he have to be so damn cute?! Thank god, I feel more at home here than my own house. Eddie gets up and throws himself onto the bed, climbing toward the right side of the bed since he knows that Richie favors the left. Eddie pats the bed beside him, gesturing for Richie to hop on in. Richie brings a hand to the back of his neck and looks down at the ground. Damn it, you better come up with an excuse quick, Trashmouth. “It’s okay, Eds. I’ll take the floor. We are probably getting too old to share the bed now anyway, right? The two of us will barely fit.” Eddie looks up at Richie incredulously, his face falling. What the fuck? We always share the bed, even when everyone else is over, too. “Rich, what are you talking about? There’s plenty of room.” Eddie reaches over and grabs Richie’s wrist, yanking him onto the bed with him. Richie lands on the bed with a thud, practically on top of Eddie. Holy shit, this cannot be happening. I can’t stop shaking. He is gonna notice that I’m shaking. Eddie’s heart rate starts beating double time. Why am I feeling anxious all of a sudden? This is nothing different than normal. Why does it feel different?

Richie slowly settles into the space on the left side of the bed, trying to angle his body away from Eddie without being too obvious. Just close your eyes and stay calm, Rich. Just close your eyes and don’t think about how Eddie is literally inches from you, in bed. He takes off his glasses and lays flat on his back with his hands behind his head, closing his eyes, while Eddie turns to lay on his side, facing Richie. Eddie just looks at Richie, taking him in, looking at how much older he looks. How much hotter he looks. Eddie is grateful that Richie’s eyes are closed so he can’t see how red Eddie’s face gets at his own thought. Eddie can feel himself starting to get anxious, or maybe even nervous. Even with that totally random—I’ve never once thought about how hot Richie is, nope not once—thought, why should I be nervous? It’s Richie, my best friend… This is just Richie, Eds. Eddie can’t help but realize that even in his own thoughts, he calls himself Eds now; he is so used to Richie calling him that that it feels more like him than his own name does. Finally, after more internal panic from both parties, they slowly drift off to sleep, Eddie’s body just inches away from Richie’s.

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​Richie wakes up to the sound of soft breathing, birds chirping, and sun shining in the window. It’s a beautiful morning, and Richie is feeling warm and cozy in his bed. Mmm, this is nice. Warm and cozy. Suddenly, Richie remembers that there is another human in his bed, not just any human. His eyes shoot open, and while he can’t make out much through the blur of glasslessness, he doesn’t move. Richie is still on his back and very aware that he is holding something and that something is holding him back. So he, very carefully, reaches to the nightstand to put his glasses on. When the room comes into focus, he looks down to see an arm draped over his waist, an arm belonging to a Mr. Eddie Kaspbrak. Richie stops breathing. Holy fuck, oh my god. I must still be dreaming. Eddie’s head is snuggled into Richie’s chest, and he has the softest smile on his face, even in his sleep. I am literally about to snap. HOLY. FUCK. Richie’s arm is wrapped around Eddie’s back, holding him against his body, and their legs are all tangled together. OH MY GOD WHAT DO I DO? I am just going to have to stay like this. Yeah, I will pretend to be asleep until Eddie wakes up and I’ll pretend to wake up then, too. Okay, okay. Richie tries to calm his heart rate and his breathing and his thoughts and his body, which is trying to tense up under Eddie’s. If you tense up, he will know you are awake, Rich. Come on, dude. Nice deep, even breathing. Richie closes his eyes, the scene of Eddie cuddling into him forever burned on the back of his eyelids.

​The first thing Eddie notices is the warm sunlight spilling into the room, bright enough through Eddie’s eyelids to wake him up. The second thing he notices is that he has slept through the night without a nightmare for the first time in a really long time. Somehow lastly, he notices is himself thrown all over Richie. Like, literally all over. What the fuck?! How did this happen?! Oh my god, how did we manage to get this tangled?! He can hear Richie’s even breaths under him and thinks this to mean that Richie is still asleep. Nice even breaths, Rich. Eddie can’t move; extracting himself is not an option. They are so intertwined that if Eddie moves, Richie will definitely wake up. Holy shit, what am I gonna do? I guess I’m gonna have to wait it out. Richie will probably wake up soon, so I will just lay here and pretend to wake up when he wakes up. He will probably push me off of him and call me a dumbass or something. He will probably just think I tried to sprawl out on the bed even when there isn’t enough room. Eddie’s anxiety is rolling off of him in waves, but he knows he is going to have to pull it together if he doesn’t want to wake Richie. He squeezes his eyes shut again and breathes deeply. It’s fine. Everything is fine. Richie will wake up soon.

​Holy shit, how is he still sleeping? How long has it been now, like 30 minutes, an hour? I don’t know how Richie is still sleeping while I’m on top of him like this… How did our legs get twisted around each other’s like that? Our limbs are so freaking tangled it’s like we tried to merge our bodies into one last night. Oh my god, what if he can hear how fast my heart is racing? His head is literally on my chest. At least Richie can barely see my face from that angle. I probably look like a mess. I’m glad Eds’ face is turned away from mine; my morning breath probably reeks. I’m glad my face is turned away from Richie’s; his morning breath probably reeks.

​Both boys remain still, continuing to wait out the other in this sleep war, neither aware that the other is, in fact, awake. The minutes slip by, and confusion and panic turn into something calmer, sweeter.

​It is almost like Eddie’s body fits perfectly into mine. I feel like I’m in a dream. Wow, I am really liking the way Richie is holding me; I feel so safe here. I kinda hope he doesn’t wake up any time soon. He looks so peaceful in his sleep. I could honestly lay here all day, but Richie will probably wake up. I hope he doesn’t freak out.

​Minutes drift to hours, hours drift to an eternity, and soon Richie doesn’t think he can stay like this much longer. Oh my god, as much as I don’t want to move and wake Eddie up, I really can’t lay here anymore. I gotta get up.

​Psst. “Hey Eds, umm are you awake?” Richie’s voice is barely loud enough to hear, which is a surprise to Eddie. He has never heard Richie’s voice sound so… delicate. Eddie quietly clears his throat and whispers back, “Yeah Rich, I’m awake.” He’s awake and he didn’t throw me off of him. “Oh thank god, I’ve gotta piss so bad.” Richie quickly untangles himself from Eddie, who is watching Richie scramble to the bathroom. Eddie can’t help but laugh at Richie’s frazzled manor.

​While Richie is in the bathroom—hopefully brushing his teeth too—Eddie lays back onto the bed, suddenly feeling colder in the space where Richie’s body was pressed against his own. I didn’t realize how much I wanted to be that close to Richie until now. I want to be that close to him; I need to be that close to him again.

​Richie comes back from the bathroom, face tinged pink, and looks at Eddie shyly. Eddie was laughing. Is it too much to hope that he liked being tangled up with me? I really like being tangled up with him. I wonder what he is thinking… did he like being that close or was it super weird for him? Oh god, it was probably weird.

​Richie tries to act casual and moves back over to the bed. Eddie automatically moves over to make room for him, as Richie lays back down on his side of the bed. He lays down on his back, lifting his arms to put his hands behind his head, just as he did last night. He looks up at the ceiling for a long time before turning his head to look at Eddie. The expression on Eddie’s face is unreadable. Oh god, I wonder what he’s thinking. Come on, Eds, just do it. You were just doing it. It will be fine.

​Eddie makes the decision to throw all caution to the wind. Eddie scoots in, deliberately not making eye contact with Richie, and slips into his previous cuddling position, one arm draped over Richie’s middle, head on his chest, and legs tangling back up with Richie’s. HOLY FUCKING SHIT. Oh my god. Fuck Eds what are you doing to me?!

​Eddie can feel Richie tense up under him. Oh god, maybe he doesn’t want me touching him anymore. Maybe I fucked up. Then he feels Richie’s whole body relax and move into him. Or not. Eddie feels heat creep up the back of his neck and into his cheeks, maybe a little embarrassed. Whatever, this feels so… right. Richie’s face flushes as his thoughts start to wander. Wow. It was different cuddling in our sleep because it was accidental, but this… this is deliberate. This is on purpose, and it feels so good to be this close to my Eds.

​Richie unclasps his hands from behind his head and brings one arm around Eddie’s back, where he starts lazily drawing circles with his fingertips. This is bliss. Pure bliss. Richie can feel Eddie shiver from the contact. Oh my god, that feels so good, Rich. Please keep doing that. Eddie squeezes Richie, pulling him closer. Richie smirks, as if he know what this is doing to Eddie, and continues to swirl patterns up and down his back.

​Eddie feels content for the first time in a quite a while. With his home life being shit and those stupid nightmares of that fucking clown, he finally feels at peace, here in this bed with Richie. God, Richie has always been my saving grace, hasn’t he? I know I love him, but I think I might like him, too. Damn, there is definitely no use trying to convince myself that I don’t like Eddie. I like him, like so much. I am definitely in like with him. Richie decides then and there that he is going to have to tell Eddie—and his friends—soon, especially since he will be wanting to do this a lot more. It’s going to be damn near impossible to Richie to keep his hands away from Eddie now.

​Too soon, Eddie starts to pull away from Richie, finally making eye contact with him. He has a sweet smile on his face, the pink glow of his cheeks bringing out his adorable freckles. “Hey Rich, I should probably get going. It’s the weekend so I hope my mom slept in. I gotta get home before she notices that I snuck out.” Richie bolts up and looks at Eddie with a look of udder shock. “What?! You snuck out? Oh god, if Sonia finds out she will never sleep with me again!” Eddie smacks Richie’s arm, but his mouth twists into a laugh. “Eww, shut up, you dick!” God I love his laugh. “No, but seriously Eds, you gotta get out of here before you end up on house arrest and I never get to see you again.”

​Eddie turns to look into Richie’s eyes one last time. I can’t wait until the next time I get to see you, Rich. I wish I could kiss him, but I don’t want to scare him off.

​Eddie breaks the eye contact first, heading toward the window. He pushes it open, about to lift his foot over the frame. He pauses, a single thought eating at him. Kiss him. Do it before you leave. Kiss him. I think he might want to kiss you, too. Eddie quickly turns back around and rushes over to Richie. A look of confusion sweeps over Richie’s features, and then Eddie is softly pressing his lips to his. Richie’s eyes are still open with shock before Richie can get a hold of himself and his lids flutter shut. Oh my god, he did it first. Oh my god, Eddie Fucking Kaspbrak is kissing me and I am seeing stars. This kiss is over way too soon for Richie’s liking, and he barely hears Eddie over his pounding heart, “I’ve kinda just been wanting to do that.” Maybe for only like the past hour, but I already want to do that again.

Before Richie can even register what Eddie has said or even open his eyes, Eddie clambers out the window, leaving Richie stunned and elated, floating on fucking Cloud Nine.

​Richie stares at his open window, where hopefully Eddie will be climbing in every night. “Yeah, me too,” he whispers to his empty room.

[vanaera]

You Will Feel A Flash of Red

Synopsis | Seokjin colors your life with his outrageous ideas and unnecessarily wild adventures, along with his stupid mission to always scare you whenever you run into each other. Against your better judgment, you’ve already started to entertain foreign feelings in your heart concerning the certain boy. And it doesn’t help you already get scared easily without him adding his shenanigans in the mix. You just want Seokjin to stop…making you feel too much all at once. Genre | Fluff, semi-crack Characters | Seokjin x Reader (College!AU bc I’m soft and my uni life is mundane af) Wordcount | 2.7k A/N | Hi hons, this is something short and fluffy I came up with while I’m resting from my recent 21k-wordsmash-work Daffodil Rings. Hope you like this!

               Everything can be colorful if you will them enough to. Grocery shoppings can be filled with oranges and greens that warm you up as you push past the cold airconditioned mart. Laundry days can be cooled with the tranquility of blues and whites that coax your eyes to relax from such a fast-paced week. You learned to make this your coping mechanism ever since you started associating colors for everything that lived in your grey, mundane life.  

               Your study table and work station are your usual pliant canvases to your color imageries. However, your biggest coloring book has to be the people that surround you. For instance, your bestfriend, Park Jimin, is a golden drizzle of yellow for his unfailing optimism whether it be finals week or rush hour dashes. Meanwhile, your other friend, Kim Namjoon, is an inky indigo for his strange concurrent displays of placidity and chaos wherever he goes.  Your roommate, Wendy Seon, is an easy magenta for her innateness to attract attention wherever she goes. Unlike her, Min Yoongi, your batch representative, was a hard-to-determine cream white for his introvertedness and tough-bitch acts. But among these people you have met, there is one who stands out like a sore thumb: Kim Seokjin.

               Kim Seokjin is a friend of Namjoon and you only knew about it when you shared a general education film class with him in sophomore year. He was easy to say…a different story from anyone you’ve met.  

               “You’re Y/N, right?”

               Your eyes flit to your left to meet the eyes of the boy seated next to you and you nodded slowly. How did he know you? Much more your name? You’re sure you’ve never met him before and you’re much surer you’re someone everyone can easily miss.

               “Namjoon told me your name when I asked him about you. I’m Kim Seokjin,” he offers a hand. You shook it slowly, your head tilted to the side, still bewildered as to how he knew you. Unfazed by your questioning stare, Seokjin grins. “I didn’t know you’re also taking this class.”

               “I…I like films so yeah,” you shrug.

               “Me too!” Seokjin chuckles. He leans closer to your seat. “You’re in the biochemistry program right?”

               Your forehead furrows. “Excuse me?”

               “Oh, I am in the biology program and I saw you going out of the lab when our class was about to start in the same lab. Your blue scrunchie gave you away.”

                Your hand deftly reached up to your ponytail and Seokjin laughs. “Don’t worry, you look cute with it,” he waves off and the furrows on your forehead only grow deeper. What is this man spouting about? Is he outright hitting on you–  

               The door swings open and the professor barks the usual morning greeting. Your thoughts were immediately halted. A few minutes is all it takes for everything to settledown into a metronome of students whispering across each other and pens scribbling notes. You wouldn’t have found yourself bothered again by the strange man sitting beside you if Seokjin didn’t just open his mouth to say the stupidest thing you’ve ever heard in your entire life when the professor asked everyone what names they would like to be called in class.

               “Señorita. Call me señorita.”

               Needless to say, the class erupted into a hysterics and you’re left wondering for days (and oddly irritated) why everyone finds it so funny to bring that scenario up again and again until the next two weeks.

               Such small timeframe is also enough for you to say Seokjin’s a mess.  But oh, everyone will disagree. They will say “Oh my God, how can Seokjin be a mess? He’s like the university crush and he has damn good grades and have you seen him wearing those goggles during lab hours?! He’s the only one handsome enough to pull it off as a fashion statement! ” in their wistfully annoying voice. First of all, you don’t care whether he’s good in what he does or he has a really good-looking face. What else but a mess will be someone who’s all-over-the-place?

               Some days, Seokjin is a calm sky blue you can actually have fun with talking about film what-ifs and chemistry memes.

               “Yo Y/N, imagine if The Princess and The Frog was remade and instead of a frog, the prince is a pterodactyl.”

               “I don’t want to imagine that.”

                “The solution of the plot will still work though. You can’t kiss pterodactyls though, but guess what?”

               “I don’t want to guess.”

               “C’mon, just play along!”

               “Fine, what?”

                “They will peck you!”

                 “Have you ever wondered what Australia will be called if it suddenly finds itself abundant of silver.”

               “No. Leave Australia alone.”

               Seokjin doesn’t hear you and bursts out “Agstralia!” He guffaws at his own joke and you can’t help but snicker at his priceless face and laugh at yourself in pity for finding it even remotely funny.

               When his laughter dies down, Seokjin goes again, “Then what if it’s filled with copper?”

               You don’t want to answer him, already biting your lip in silent laughter.

               “Custralia!”

                 Most of the days, Seokjin’s a fiery orange of fireworks who drags you into the wildest rides of your life with his ever loud, but oddly inviting, “Yo, Y/N!” Like that one Monday afternoon he coaxed you (in some goddamn way you dumbly agreed to) to scavenge for some specimen of Bermuda grass to see it under the microscope and check if it has any semblance to the Bermuda Triangle (of course it has none). You accomplished nothing that day but run around like cockroaches with no heads when an old woman chased you for trampling on her “garden” which is just a plain expanse of grass. Or that one Wednesday morning he asked you to accompany him in his dorm just in case he managed to summon a demon when he tries to cook using an old Latin cookbook he found in some thrift store. You didn’t summon anything that day but you ended up with you two getting summoned by the condominium’s landlord because Seokjin accidentally set off the unit’s fire alarm.

               There are also times when Seokjin’s an endearing bloom of pink. Like those days when his hand casually brushes against yours as you walk side by side to your film class and he’ll send you one of his goofy smiles. Or those weekends where he’ll accompany you to study in the library, helping you make flash cards for your upcoming long quizzes.   Seokjin makes you feel warm at the slightest of stares and lingering gazes. Especially in those nights where he lays his head on your shoulder as you watch required films, and he’ll stare at you while doing kissy faces when you tell him his head is too heavy.  You never knew you would be able to fill something, no someone, in such a delicate color you know you have already started to reflect on your cheeks just at the sight of him.

               But all of that gets ruined because Seokjin always, always, makes you see blazing scarlet everytime he carries on  his life mission to scare you whenever you meet. It started when your professor assigned your class to watch The Shining for a horror genre essay and you, like the scaredy cat you are, begged Seokjin to watch it with you. Of course you didn’t tell him you’re not too fond of horror films, afraid of being called out. Obviously, it only takes one stare at your curled up form for Seokjin to put two and two together and realize you’re such a…coward. And of course, like the obnoxious boy he is, Seokjin takes advantage of such knowledge and decides you need a little spice in your life–a spice you didn’t really need, nor will ever need in your entire life.

               Whenever you’ll meet him on the corridors of your film class, Seokjin is now nowhere to be found. Instead, he’ll demand you to answer a quick survey first, a condition for him to show up, and you, like the exasperated idiot you are, answer it just to get on and over with it.  Like always, you end up screaming at a scary video mid-answering the questions and you never learn your lesson.  Everytime you’ll pass by each other in hallways, Seokjin bellows a loud “Boo!” with a thunderous clap of his huge ass hands and you always jump in shock like a cat on her hackles.  You never knew how to expect the shits he pull up because Seokjin always changes his patterns. One day, he even pulled up a Scream mask by your locker just right after you closed it shut, making you scream as you fall on your bum.

               At the end of the day, Seokjin always makes sure to apologize and assure you that it’s just his way to bond with you. “I just can’t get enough of your priceless face” he snickers and you start to chuckle too at his attempts – because even if you’re scared, his shenanigans actually helped you, in some way, get less scared of horror film jump scares.

               However today–today is a different straw.

               It was nine o'clock in the evening and you just got out of your building after an org meeting. The campus gate you usually take in your commute home was already locked closed at eight so you have no choice but to take the other gate–the one on the far left boundary of the campus. All would have been fine about that gate if you hadn't read the Facebook freedom wall post concerning it yesterday. Apparently, some student was jogging around the route towards the gate every night before he goes back to his dorm. In the entirety of his jog, he hears footsteps behind him that he didn't mind at first– until he passes by a guard who greets him and asks him what's he's doing alone so late. When he glances to the left, there was actually no one following him.

               At the thought of the Facebook post, you grab the straps of your bagpack tighter. All is well. You just have about twenty meters to go before the gate and after that, you'll get on a bus. Just a little bit more and–

               Step. Step. Step.

               Jesus fucking Christ. You bit your lip and walked faster. Your steps are frantic and you could feel cold perspiration start to form on your nape. You could feel yourself tripping on your shoes anytime soon but the only thought running in your mind now is outrunning the thing behind you.

               However, the steps behind you also quickened its pace.

               Fucking shit. You break into a run. You don't care about social conventions nor how ridiculous you probably look right now with your eyes teary, mouth dry, and hair frazzled. All you know is that you have to get OUT of there.

               But your effort is not enough because just five steps in, a hand shoots out behind you and you have nothing to do but scream. Scream, drop down, and cry.

               “Leave me a-alone please. Just let m-me go home. I'm to-too young to die!”

               “Yo Y/N. It's me, Seokjin.”

               You cried harder.

               In the next second, you feel him squat down and gesture toward your arms, tightly corded around your knees with your head still buried between them. But you didn't move. You can't move. Your fingers are still shaking, and your heart won't stop pounding too fast. And you feel like any second right now, you're about to explode.

               “Y/N, I'm sorry I scared you. I just saw you going out and I have something to say to you before you go home.”

               You couldn't hold it in. You pin Seokjin with the meanest glare you can muster. “WHY DO YOU HAVE TO COME AT ME LIKE THAT THEN?!”

               “I was just running after you! You were walking too fast and you didn't see me so I–”

               “I thought you were a ghost! Jesus Christ!”

               “A ghost?” Jin sputters before breaking out into a loud guffaw. “I'm so handsome to be a ghost. Seriously, Y/N–”

               “It's not funny anymore you know,” you whisper. Seokjin's chuckles immediately die down. “Can you just stop,” you hiccup, “scaring me everytime we meet? It's not good for my heart.”

               “I...I didn't know you felt like that,” Seokjin mumbles and he looks down, rubbing his nape. “I...I thought you were also having fun because you always laugh after it.”

               “It was fun,” you admit, “but it's also scary. I'm a coward you know. I have my limits.”

               “I'm sorry,” Seokjin mumbles. But before you can reply that it's alright as long as he doesn't do this shit again, he has already cupped your face in his hands, leaving you no choice but to look at him. Look at him in all your snotty glory.

               Seokjin however, doesn't seem to care. “I'm sorry I scared you that bad. I would not have started doing this scaring thing if I knew it will end up with you breaking down. I'm sorry I didn't know you get scared this bad. I don't like...making you cry.” At this, you feel his thumbs pressing on your cheeks and wiping away the tears that have streaked down in your panic. You can't move, this time for a different reason. You can't feel anything but the presence of the boy in front of you. His warm, beautiful eyes that only look like that when they meet your eyes; his much warmer hand that feels too big on your face–big and secure enough for your hand to hold with an assurance he’ll never let go. His cheeks are rosy, just like his ears and you feel oddly elated it has grown pinker just in five more seconds of staring at his eyes. And his lips–pink and plump and looking so soft–fills your senses into sensory overload that you honestly feel you're heating up like a boiling kettle by now.

               Good for you, Seokjin doesn't question your frozen stance and silently helps you up on your feet. “Sorry’s not enough. I'll make up for what I did. C'mon.”

               Before you knew it, he's already steering you away from the gate and back into the campus. And now at ten thirty, you find yourself munching on a strawberry ice cream cone with Seokjin beside you, your knees bumping into each other.

               “Why do you do it anyway?”

               “What do I do?”

               “Scaring me,” You answer, wiping your lips.

               “Are you...still angry about it? I'm sorr–”

               “No,” you wave off, “I'm just...curious, yeah. I've never had someone doing that to me and you're probably the only one crazy enough to do that. I'm just curious why you do it in the first place.”

               “Well, you already said it," Seokjin chuckles. “No one has ever done it to you yet. So I did.”

               Your brows raise, your forehead furrows. "Wh-why?”

               “Because I want to be different when it comes to you. I've seen you goofing off with Jimin on hallways and–I don't know why, I just get this feeling that I have to be unique when it comes to you.”

               “Why? I mean," you sputter, "I don't require you to be…different to be my friend.”

               “I just want to. It feels good that I get to be the wild adventure of your life. It feels good that I get you to look only at me like that–begrudging but curious, skeptical but willing, and," he smiles, "cute. Especially when I get you to laugh.”

               You look at him, mouth agape, but Seokjin just laughs and gestures you to eat your ice cream because it's starting to melt. You oblige, but you can't help but let your eyes linger on the boy next to you. The boy you didn’t know was like the biggest hotshot of your batch but was the one to actually remember you from the crowd just by your favorite scrunchie. The boy who used to be your greatest dilemma but now the best highlight of your life. The boy that annoys you to no end but oddly makes your heart flutter at the same time. Seokjin, the boy you can now begrudgingly admit you're definitely crushing on. Because you know there's no other answer to the overwhelming, warm flash of soft red you feel on your chest whenever you're with him.

               You know you're right because after that night, you start to associate Seokjin mostly with red. Fresh roses, picnic dates, heart-shaped promises, sweet laughter, cherry kisses–a plethora of everything your heart started to long for.

 A/N | HAPPY BIRTHDAY TO MY BEST GIRL @sophrosinn!!! Thank you for being a stable shoulder I can lean on in times of problems, for being a great listener to everything I rant about, and for being one of my bestest friends who never failed to support me in my dreams.  (Thank you for also comforting me when I broke down in our live news presentation in our media literacy class. I’ll never forget that). I never imagined you’ll be one of my few friends I get to keep ‘til now since it’s only two years ago we got to really, really talk with each other. Remember how we just used to pass by and greet each other in our freshman until 11thgrade year in high school? Such a great plot twist. Time sure flies fast when you’re with the best people. Meeting you is surely a blessing. I wish you more amazing years ahead of you and may you accomplish all your endeavors. I love you!

P.S. I hope you liked this fluffy fic hehe this idea started to bother me ever since your birthday started to near. And yeah, I HAVE to include the pterodactyl joke because it’s your and Jin’s trademark uwu

All Rights Reserved © Vanaera. Reposts, modifications, and translations of content are not allowed without direct permission.

[pinsplantsandpikes]

A Stitch(wort) In Time Saves Nothing If You Don't Pick It (16/03/20)

(Tumblr decided to delete my draft so I ragequit this for two days)

The sky is bright, empty, and blue. The air is briskly cold but clean. I have so far seen a lot of Lords And Ladies, a lot of Lords And Ladies, incessant amounts of Lords And Ladies.

I am exploring lakeside today instead of in the heathland. I am determined to find some Ramsoms like the other foragers I follow have. The general advice has been waterside woodland, as old as possible.

With the recent rain there is a lot more waterside than before! But the age is potentially a problem, so we shall see what we can see and live in hope.

On the suburban end of my walk, leading up to the lakes, there has been thriving greenery starting to shrug off the grey of winter. A rife of blue flowers started to emerge as I approached the gate, leaves spotted with white, quite pretty. Alkanet or Bugloss, and in their abundance, absolutely beautiful and rather like Forget Me Not flowers for the individual heads. I should have recognised them instantly - rather than letting the app confuse me into hoping they were Comfrey - for they look exactly as they do in Elder Scrolls IV Oblivion, the game designers did a wonderful job on the plants.

Picking my way through the swampy ground I eventually made it to the path which followed a seemingly circular route, I chose to go left to start with. I passed some grumpy swans and a fisherman mired in mud to practice his craft. I don't envy the conditions but give him props for going to such lengths. Takes guts to be that close to swans, evil bastards that they are.

Continuing onward, I see some dogwalkers, numerous water based plants which look like Irises, more bloody Lords And Ladies, and wonder of wonders I find St John’s Wort--!

Not.

Of course I didn’t find anything so forageable as that. It was Shrubby St John’s Wort, otherwise known as Sweet Amber... uses, none. Cute little plant though.

Next up is Wood Avens, which might actually be useful at last! Ish. After some looking, none of its uses are really supported by science. Ugh.

All I want is to learn to find usable, useful, edible plants. It is not really so much to ask.

The next step in my journey was to decide whether or not to try and cross a flooded area of stepping stones, or stepping logs rather. The water ran over them and there was no indication how much they would sink. I would hardly drown if I slipped. I would get at worst a nasty shock, sore bum and a bit soggy. But on principle it was the risk vs reward debate. I vaguely knew my options for turning back, the right turn I hadn't yet taken that would eventually lead full circle to my origin point.

Or the waterlogged path, of which I knew nothing.

So, naturally I took to the logs, got one wet sock but otherwise survived the scramble intact. It was an adventure!

The view was spectacular, a river on one side after a steep drop, and the lake I’d been circling on the other, waterfowl taking off from the river and flying over my head. I carried along the path, excitedly looking at my feet for potential Ramsoms or other plants, breathing deeply, hoping to smell the strong stench of garlic. But nothing, just damp soil, water, and the fresh air.

It was along this path I ditched LeafSnap as my identification app. My final straw was it umming and ahhing about hogweed and whether or not it was really a parsnip. With lesser hogweed that’s not a dangerous confusion, even if it’s drastically wrong. With Giant Hogweed that is potentially lethal, given the plant’s infamous toxicity (seriously, go investigate that terrifying beast). So, instead I moved to iNaturalist, which so far has worked much better, keeping identification assumptions much more closely related, and peer-reviewed by real people when unsure. Happily trotting along I found more Lords And Ladies, brambles everywhere, grasses, dock, more of my good friend Poor Man’s Mustard, and what looked like Forget Me Nots!

Or more specifically, Wood Forget Me Nots. Gardener variety Forget Me Nots are my favourite flower, but this variation might actually leap to the top. The leaves were so fuzzy and soft. There were fewer flowers than the plant I know, but that may be the time of year as much as anything. The petals were a far richer blue, matching the Alkanet.

At this point my battery dropped below 50% so I started winding my way towards home, deliberately without turning back. I followed the muddied ground towards a swampy plain full of rushes or similar. Amongst the tall reeds there were some with what looks like bugs munching on them, fluffy little curls. When I got closer I saw that they were actually part of the Willows as iNaturalist identified them.

That’s just the family of plants, it wasn’t confident enough to narrow it down to the specific, but I’m happy with that much for something I don’t intend to touch or eat. It’s so cute though!

After the Willows I had a decision to make, with my battery running low enough it might not make it home. Either I went the wiggly way through the houses, or a straight line through some awkwardly overgrown wilderness. Just as I was weighing up these options something caught my eye. Bright greenery in a nest of dead leaves.

And in amongst the emerald sea in there were tiny white drops. Bright tiny blooms of delicately deliberate petals.

This was Stitchwort.

And it was so utterly beautiful. I’d seen flowers like that before but I have no recollection of where. They were exactly the kind of thing I wanted to see. Useful, edible, I even was developing a stitch after 80 or so minutes on the hoof at that point! But did I pick any?

No.

Because I’m an idiot who didn’t think of that till I’d already gotten halfway home, back through the undergrowth scritch scratch scritch scratch and back through the mud squelch squirtch squelch squirtch. It was only at I was opening the gate to return to the main road that I kicked myself for not getting down on my hands and knees to pick some of the Stitchwort, that I could have used it on a practical basis, tested its power. But no, my silly modern brain wanted to go home and have a banana to restock on potassium. Defying the whole premise of trying to reawaken older knowledge and customs.

But still. I know where they are. I’m pretty sure I could find my way back to that small cluster under that tree. They work well in salad apparently. Maybe I’ll do that for myself, a quarantine picnic, lockdown lunch of flowers and leaves.

Of course, yes, that’s the elephant in the room. I got home around 5pm.

Just in time to see the BBC tell me the country was on lockdown.

[tvdiaries-imagines]

Old Flame: Pt. 4

Warnings: None

Word Count: 1726

OLD FLAME MASTERLIST: CLICK HERE

Rousseau’s is rather empty. There’s only a couple at the bar and a handful of people seated at the table. You and Kai waltz in, making yourselves comfortable at the bar.

“Another new face.” The blonde bartender says with excitement, “What brings you to the city?” She asked, placing coasters and napkins over the bar counter.

“Oh, just visiting an ex.” You said with a casual amusing tone.

She flickered her curious green eyes at Kai. “Him?”

You snorted at her assumption before shaking your head. “Oh no no no.”

She narrowed her eyes briefly at Kai before returning a playful look to you. “I’d say brother, but you two look nothing alike. So gay best friend?”

Kai grinned, amused. “Wow. That’s a first.” He threw an arm over your shoulder which you briskly rejected.

“Nope.” You said, “just a straight friend.”

“With benefits.” Kai added, raising a brow.

“Shut up.” You nudged Kai’s arm, shooting him a scowl before bringing your attention back to the blonde. “He’s totally kidding. He’s just here for moral support or whatever. Anyways, we’ll get a whiskey. Neat.”

“Sure thing.” She placed two empty glasses over the counter before turning to grab a bottle, pouring it a quarter of the way. “So visiting an ex, huh. Where are you two from?”

“Virginia.” You responded.

She furrowed her brows, baffled. “Wow. That’s pretty far to visit an ex.” A nervous chuckle escaped her mouth as if her response was beyond her control. “So sorry if I’m being too blunt. It’s not something I hear everyday.”

“Don’t worry about it…” You shrugged, glancing at her name tag. “Camille...It’s very complicated.”

“I’m all ears…” She dragged, as if waiting for an introduction.

“Y/N.” You flashed Camille a warm smile. “I know it sounds like I’m a weird ex, but I promise it’s not that weird. His sister flew all the way to Virginia and begged me to come see him.”   

“How odd?” She blinked, puzzled. It does sound a little crazy to someone who doesn’t know the backstory.

“Very very odd.” Kai added.

“Yeah I know.” You said, taking a sip of your whiskey before continuing. “His sister told me that he lost someone very important to him and that he’s been spiraling like crazy. So she and their older brother assume that I’m the key to uplifting him, I guess.”

“Got it, got it. So have you seen him yet?” Camille asked, intrigued.

You let out a long sigh. “Yes. A few minutes ago actually.”

“She ran off.” Kai smirked, leaning back in his seat.

“Ran off, huh. And he didn’t chase after you?” Camille raised a brow.

“No.” Your eyes fell to your glass, but you recovered quickly, clearing your throat as you shift your view back to the bartender. “But it’s fine. I mean, it was probably a lot for him to take in. I’ll be back soon though.” You shrugged.

“Well, you know what? I hope everything falls into place with you and your ex.” Camille said, offering you a warm smile.

“Mmmhmm.” Kai muttered, taking a generous sip of his whiskey.

For the next hour, you remained at the bar, getting to know Camille. You learned that she has a smart ass, sarcastic personality. But you enjoy every bit of it. Kai was being his usual chatty, narcissistic self. He earned many eye rolls from you and even Camille. Though, it seemed she still enjoyed his company.

You found yourself getting lost in your thoughts every now and then, replaying your very brief moment with Klaus and all the different ways you could have handled it instead of running off like a scared puppy. It was excruciating for you not knowing what went on in his head from your arrival.

All too familiar memories rushed through your head.

You’ll never forget that time Klaus scolded you for going on a walk alone. You weren’t attacked by anyone, but you did sprain your ankle after missing a step. You called Kol to come to your rescue, but he later told Klaus about it anyways.

Living with Klaus and waking up every morning to the smell of breakfast being cooked by a compelled chef.

On your last anniversary spent with him, you came home to a trail of rose petals that leads to the massive backyard, where he is waiting with a violin player and a table set up. He knows how much you cherish quality time, so his phone was set away for the remainder of the evening.

Nowadays, you wake up alone in your bed and to the smell of bacon being cooked by Stefan or Damon. You never minded it at all, though. But being in the same city as Klaus and seeing him after all this time is quite difficult for you not to reminisce.  

“Y/N.” Kai snapped you out of your thoughts, his hand placed on the small of your back. You blinked numerously to bring yourself back. “You okay there?” He asked.

“Yeah. Sorry.” You trailed off. Suddenly, you hop off of the bar stool. “I-I decided I’m going to go back. I think I cooled off long enough. Camille, it was so nice to meet you. I’ll definitely try to come visit again.”

“Leaving already?” Kai added. He’s a bit bummed that you’re already off to spend time with your ex without knowledge of when you’ll return, but he quickly realized this is the exact reason why you’re here and it was his choice to tag along.

“Yeah, just keep Camille company. I’ll call you if I need anything.”

“Nice meeting you, Y/N.” Camille offered you a smile.

Sauntering out of the vicinity, the warmth of the sun welcomes you. Your superb memory came in handy because you didn’t need gps or Elijah’s assistance to find your way back to the Mikaelson compound. You strolled instead of rushed, taking in all the sun and Jazz music has to offer you. Even you were tempted to walk inside a gift shop or two, but the task at hand was more important. Niklaus.

Glancing over your shoulders, you noticed two muscular men following closely behind you. It could be your paranoia, so you tried brushing the feeling away, but as you turned a corner, you caught a glimpse of them indiscreetly trailing after you.

You’re a vampire for god sakes, so you figured you can take them. You wandered into the nearest alleyway until you are no longer earshot from the tourists. Like clockwork, the men followed.

Halting, you turned on your heel and only noticed one of the men standing before you. “Look. If you don’t want to get your ass beat by a girl, I suggest you scurry away.” You did a shooing motion with your hand, smirking.

“Y/N Y/L/N.” His tone meant business.

“Who’s asking?” Your eyes narrowed suspiciously.

“You’re coming with us.”

You scoffed at his response. “No way in hell.” This stranger must be out of his mind, stalking me and expecting me to willingly go with him. You thought to yourself.  

You spun to walk away, but you are met with the second man’s chest and immediately everything goes black.

(Meanwhile…)

“We’re taking the 12 original rings.” Elijah started, pacing in the dining room. “Now, four sit on the hands of the Guerrera brothers. One on Oliver, one on Francesca.” He flickered his eyes from Hayley and Klaus, who are keeping a distance from both ends of the dining table. Neither would make eye contact whatsoever.

“Three, with the home security detail and the rest scattered amongst her lackeys.” Elijah continued, “Each ring is distinguishable by its setting. Gauche. Like those that wear them.”

“If they believe that they can get the stake, they will come for me when I’m weak.” Klaus said, glowering in his seat. “Each ring we retrieve will strengthen me, but I will still be at a disadvantage.”

“Ergo, any hope of our success depends entirely upon our working together.” Elijah implied, stepping closer towards Hayley’s direction. “Two of you can no longer afford to retreat to separate corners.”

Hayley frowned, but knows that Elijah is right. They all have to work together as a team.

Klaus stood, peering at Hayley with a hardened expression. “This is our fight. You ready for battle, Hayley?”

“Just promise me that Francesca doesn’t come out of this alive.” Hayley’s eyes burned with rage.

“Her head will be delivered to you on a silver platter.” Klaus smirked.

“And what of dear Y/N?” Elijah intervenes. Klaus clenched his jaw at the thought of you getting hurt if you joined in.

“She stays out of this.” Klaus said with a serious tone. “Since neither of us are aware of when she will return, do inform her to stay away from the compound until-”

The ringing of Elijah’s phone gained everyone’s attention. He freed it from the inside of his suit jacket pocket, brows furrowed in confusion at the name. He glanced nervously at Klaus as he answered the phone. “Francesca.” Elijah hid his hatred for her with a professional tone.

Klaus’s lips drew back in a snarl, fighting the urge to rip the phone out of Elijah’s hand to give Francesca a piece of his mind.

“Hello Elijah. We have your precious Y/N.” She said, Klaus’s eyes widened. “Bring Klaus to us when the moon reaches its apex or she’s dead before the sun rises.”

“Elijah! Klaus!” Your struggled voice was the last they heard before Francesca ended the call. The brothers wondered how she found out about your relationship to them, but remembered that you did walk to the compound with Elijah earlier today. They figured one of Francesca’s wolves must’ve spied on them.

“They have her?!” Raw anger shot through Klaus, hands clenched into fists. “Now this changes everything. I am going with you, Elijah.”

“No Niklaus.” Elijah rejected without remorse.

“We will continue with our plan. Allow me to handle retrieving Y/N, alone. You are too weak and quite frankly brother, your frail condition will be a burden to me.”

Klaus exhaled deeply though his nostrils, maintaining his hardened expression. “Fine.” He spat the word before softening his tone with utter desperation. “But I beg of you, Elijah. Bring her back to me alive.”

Elijah nodded before disappearing.  

-

TAGS: @ynm1505 @ravenmoore14 @xdontxcare @seasiren96 @anyasthoughts @woodworthti666 @agentmarvel13 @miss-lumiere @elizabethann1090 @physically-a-cheesecake @azhar1422 @morsmornte @retrocontessa 

[grownups-are-the-real-monsters]

Spider-Man: An Hour From Home

Summary: Peter Parker stops for gas on his way to a comic shop and after a quick Red Bull run at the station, the worst happens. He turns his key and his car is completely dead. 

Tony Stark gets a call from his son, who is completely stranded and has no idea where he is. (Modern - No powers, Peter is Tony’s son AU)

Ships: Tony/Steve 

Superfamily 

Word Count:  4,769

(I just had to get this out there ;)

Tony Stark never once saw future for himself that didn’t include some source of misery. Go back in time and ask any version of himself. It was a complete given. It was the one thing that never failed on him. If there was one thing in this world that he could count on, it was the feeling of steady depression. He hadn’t even noticed it was gone until, funny enough, he started to miss it. Maybe miss was the wrong word?-Until he realized he finally had the ability to count on something else. 

The house was quiet. Well, as quiet as it could be lately. The distant hum of machines were running-including Dum-E who was probably making a mess downstairs-and computers were sorting themselves out of one of his never-ending updates. This all provided a comforting static noise. If this had been a couple of years ago, there’d be nothing out of the ordinary. Tony was no stranger to being alone with his thoughts. 

But that was a different time. “I don’t like this.” He looked up suddenly from the phone he barely realized he’d been tinkering with. It flew from his hand and landed safely on the cushion next to him as he stood. He had never truly liked the silence but he used to be able to deal with it. But these days, it was just too 

“What’s got you in a twist, Tony?” 

His eyes landed on Steve who was stirring his coffee so painfully slow that it actually pained Tony to watch. Steve’s love for all things so home-y showed the strongest in small domestic moments of this nature and that was one of the many reasons Tony used to avoid them. “Who’s in a twist? I’m not in a twist.” He shrugged. However Steve just looked at him with that damn expression of his. The one that he made whenever he was about to meddle. He had to say, it was one of his least favorite Steve expressions. He wagged his finger as Steve carefully crossed the room to sit on the couch. 

“I’m really not. Wanna feel for yourself?” He let his arms extend into the chilly, air-conditioned atmosphere and wiggled his fingers. 

Instead of responding, Steve helped himself to one of Tony’s hands and tried to pull him back down on the cushion next to him. The landing wasn’t perfect but he did end up with a lap-full of Tony and that was the best way things could go wrong. 

“Well, if that was what you wanted...” Tony wiggled his eyebrows in that suggestive way that got Steve all hot under his skin like nothing else. “You could’ve just used your words, Steve.” With a final wink, Tony went in for a kiss. 

Steve was old fashioned. That was nothing new. But he swore just kissing Tony was an experience. The man never stopped putting on a show and when the venue was Steve’s mouth....Damn. He was always overcome with a tidal wave of feelings. Ever since their first, that feeling of utter relief and comfort never left him. It had been quite the journey to get where they were. Fighting with Tony felt like taking on the entire world but kissing Tony felt like coming home. 

“J.A.R.V.I.S. dim the lights-” 

“There’s an incoming call from Peter, Sir.” 

From over Steve’s shoulder, they could hear the sound of Tony’s phone ringing and echoing about the room. They moved perfectly in sync (as this had happened thousands of times). Tony hopped off of the taller man and went strolling on over to the phone. 

For a man usually so reserved (Which was the word Steve used to correct Tony whenever he called it being a prude), Steve looked obviously bummed out by this interruption. 

Tony let that go to his head right away. “You sit tight. Because you know what?” He puckered his lips with a thoughtful expression, walking backwards towards his phone while Steve looked at him with impatient eyes. “I just remembered something about Peter’s chemistry project that I’d like to talk to him about. Might take a while though so I hope your comfortable over there....all alone.” He wiggled his brow but turned before Steve could threaten to whip a pillow at his head. 

“Hey Pete-What is all that noise?” 

“What noise?-Oh sorry, I’m eating chips!” Peter swallowed just seconds after realizing his crunching was not just loud in his head. 

Tony rubbed the pads of his fingers against the bridge of his nose but felt no trace of actual annoyance. Just that strange feeling of fondness that always overwhelmed him when it came to his son. “Thank you for sharing your chewing with me and please take your time.” He wiped his hand across his chin as his smile grew. 

After some shuffling on the other end, his son spoke up once more. “So I was driving around-”

“Oh, you’re starting with an explanation. That can’t be good.” Tony leaned against the counter and threw a cautious look to his partner who was starting to walk over but he gently faced him with the palm of his hand to pause his worry. 

“I stopped for gas and went in to get a Red Bull but when I went to leave...” Peter trailed off and Tony could hear the sounds of him attempting to start his car but it wouldn’t catch. “It won’t start.” He chuckled awkwardly and then there was some more shuffling. “Oh-no.” 

“Oh-no? What Oh-no?” Tony waved his hand out in question, feeling a stronger flicker of the worry that was slowly coming over him. He could feel Steve hovering closer and closer to hear the voice of their son better. It was budging Tony closer to being claustrophobic with each inch. He was usually a very touchy-feely person but in times of stress or conflict, he could be a little too irritated by closeness. He scooted over despite his husbands obvious annoyance. 

“MJ and I have chemistry together-” Peter muttered sadly though Tony couldn’t figure the correlation there. 

“Well...I do hope you’re using protection for that chemistry.” He interrupted quickly. It was a joke firstly but...it was also something he and Steve were thinking of bringing up with their son anyway. He’d been spending a lot of time with that MJ. 

“Dad!” Peter’s voice went so high that it squeaked. Tony chuckled lightly. 

“Sorry bud, I was just makin’ sure. You’re hitting that age soon-”

“I don’t wanna talk about that right now!” Peter interrupted and he could nearly see his sons embarrassed face. He laughed a little more. 

“Anyway, what I was going to say was that MJ wasn’t in school today so I grabbed her chemistry homework for her. I gotta get it to her before it’s too late.” Peter’s voice was rushed and a little...anxious. Tony glanced at the clock. 6:00.  

“Where are you exactly?” He scratched behind his ear. 

The line went quiet for a few seconds. “Um...I don’t-um.” Peter’s voice was farther and much softer. “I’m not sure.” 

Tony was feeling a mixture of amusement and worry...and maybe a little guilty for the amused part. He could almost picture his son sitting in the lot of a gas station looking to find any street sign, squinted eyes because he neglected to wear his glasses. They were still sitting on the counter that he was currently leaning against but not for much longer. He picked them up and handed them over to Steve with a ‘What are ya gonna do?’ expression. 

Steve was always on Peter about the glasses and usually their son listened. But lately he’d been purposefully leaving the pair behind. “Send Pop your location through Google Maps.” He lightly smacked his partner and gestured for him to fetch his phone. 

“On it.” Peter muttered. 

As the time passed, he could hear the sounds of Peter talking to himself and Steve’s phone buzz. Tony resisted the urge to help Steve figure out how to work his phone because he had to learn himself. He took a quick peek at the man’s phone to confirm that they received it but didn’t look at it in full just yet. “Alright. Got it, bud. We should be there-Oh hold on...an hour away? Where were you going?” Tony interrupted himself when his partner held up his phone, pointing at the location. 

Peter went quiet before the storm. “I was trying to find this really cool comic book store because Ned’s Birthday is coming up. And he always gets the best stuff for mine, you know? Remember that year he got me the Lego Millennium Falcon? Anyway, I need to find the perfect thing for him and I heard this place was cool so I wanted to come check it out. I planned to get his gift but also scope it out to see if it was worth driving Ned there to make a day of it-” 

“Ok, ok. I got my answer.” Tony had to stop his kid before he talked himself to death but there was always the large part of himself that could listen to him for hours. And that was a big deal for him. 

‘The only person you listen to is yourself, Tony.’ 

He glanced over to where his partner was staring with confusion at his phone but as his eyes found him, Steve looked up. The man visibly...lit up when their gazes met. Steve’s expressions were always so vivid and telling. His eyes became much softer each time they connected with Tony’s. It warmed Tony like nothing else. And he found it extremely hard to believe that was the same man who once made that kind of comment about him. 

“I could just ask somebody to see if they have jumper cables...?” Peter suggested and Tony shook his head. 

“I’d rather you didn’t talk to strangers in that sketchy area, hang tight, Pete. We’ll be there as quick as we can.” He hung up the phone and found himself laughing. 

“He’s gonna be the death of me.” Tony swiped the pad of his thumb under his chin and swiftly took Steve’s phone. “He did kill the mood, after all.” He winked before turning to focus on the Map on his screen. The gas station was dumpy and small. He’d be lying if he said he wasn’t dying to get their kid away from it as fast as possible. 

“We’re gonna have a heck of a time at that funeral though.” Steve attempted to join in on the ‘joking about sex’ only a handful of times in their relationship, it seemed. So Tony let that moment of laughter pass without teasing him for the use of the word ‘heck’. He’d save that for later. 

“And I can’t wait for that but first...” He waved the cell-phone about. Steve gladly stood and both men rushed for the front door. 

                        ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

-”I know you haven’t met my Uncle Bucky yet but I promise you, that impression was spot on.” Peter had leaned his seat back and carelessly threw his feet atop the dashboard of his car. He stretched his arm out further to get a better angle for his phone while he spoke. 

The gas station that he was stuck at was actually pretty chill. The sun was low enough in the sky that the golden rays were showering him with warmth and it was a gift when it came to FaceTime lighting. 

“So are you just sitting in the gas station parking lot or...?” Ned squinted his eyes as if trying to look past Peter at the scenery. 

“Yeah, stuck next to the pump! Do me and favor and tell MJ that I picked up her homework but...” Peter looked at his backseat where the pile of work was sitting. He got a glimpse of a man glaring into his completely still car before parking at a pump that just opened. He then looked back to his friend. “Don’t tell her about this. I give her enough teasing material as it is.” He grinned, a slight blush creeping up his neck. Part of him almost wanted to tell her though. Teasing each other was kind of their thing, even if she was kind of a pro at it and he still struggled. But man did he love it. 

“It is your talent.” Ned chuckled. “Where were you going that’s an hour away, anyway? And why wasn’t I invited?” Ned popped a snack into his mouth and leaned back in his desk chair. Peter bit his lip while trying to think of an excuse. He was not very good at lying to his best friend. 

“Oh-uh...y’know. I was just going...to um...” Peter scratched behind his ear and tried to ignore Ned’s suspicious face.

Peter started on something but couldn’t find his footing during the sentence at all and Ned wanted to laugh. He knew his friend like the back of his hand. Peter...well he couldn’t lie to save the day. “Ok, You don’t have to tell me. I know it’s something for my Birthday.” Ned smugly smiled. 

“It is not!” Peter sat up straighter and tried to keep a hold on what little surprise he had left for his friend. “In fact, I forgot that was coming up.” He tried to piece together something to cover up his lying. He leaned back, trying to look cool and passive. 

“Anyone ever tell you that you’re a horrible actor, Peter?” Ned giggled and shook his head. He figured he might as well give up on prying the truth from Peter and wait for his surprise like a good friend. “Anyway, you wanna come over and watch ‘Return of the Jedi’ with me after school tomorrow?” They’d been re-watching the Star Wars movies over the last week for like the sixth time.

“Yeah! But don’t forget-” 

Just as Peter started to reply, his phone went completely black and died on him. He frowned and was forced to look at his own reflection. 

Man, his dads were gonna kill him for wasting his battery. They had no way to contact him now. 

And now he was all alone and bored. 

He missed Ned. 

Maybe he shouldn’t have spent the first twenty minutes of being stuck in the car trying to work up the courage to order a pizza. He wasted so much battery scrolling through Twitter while he had tried to decide. But he was starving and the gas station didn’t have anything that called to him besides the Red Bull. He wanted real food. But do they deliver to cars parked at gas stations? Probably not. He should’ve asked for Ned’s opinion. 

                           ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

“Should I FaceTime him?” Steve asked, nose pointed down at his phone while Tony drove. 

Usually he’d opt to be the passenger, liking any chance to relax. But he was a little anxious and driving would give him a little bit of control. He tried to peek at his partner and chuckled. “Yeah, why don’t you FaceTime him?” 

The car went quiet for a few seconds while Steve mumbled to himself. “I don’t know how. It’s this phone...It never works.” 

Tony’s eyes rolled so far back that he was surprised they didn’t fall to the back of his head. “Steve, sweetheart, darling, light of my life...-” He began with a wave of his hand “It’s never the phone. It’s always you.” He grinned madly. 

Steve furrowed his brows. “That’s not true. It just...” He looked down at the screen and sighed. “Ok, maybe that’s true but can you help me?” He held it out for his partner who tried to glance at it before his eyes returned to the road.

“At the next light, babe.” He rolled his lips together as Steve set his phone in the cup-holder and started tapping on his legs. He took this moment to be thankful it was just the beginning of Summer and the sun would be out for a while longer. Shining over their son for at least another hour or two. “He’s just an hour away, he’s fine.” He mumbled, knowing full well they were both a little worried. 

Peter was just fifteen-sixteen actually (He really needed to accept that he was growing up, huh?) and though the kid thought that was enough authority to act like an adult sometimes, that was far from the truth. 

“I mean, he is our kid. That’s how you know he’s fine. He’s smart, self-sufficient...he gets that from me.” Tony shrugged, reasoning more to himself rather than Steve. “But his endearing, puppy-dog kindness and naivety, that’s all you.” He snapped his fingers as the car rolled to a stop. The red-light reflecting in his eyes as he picked up Steve’s phone. 

“Oh, gee thanks.” Steve chuckled with a roll of his eyes. “He’s got the best of both of us.” He looked pensively out the window and folded his hands together. 

As the light flourished green, Tony had a thought he wouldn’t share. ‘Inside and out, the kid was better then both of them.’ And it wasn’t a purposefully self-deprecating thought or a knock towards Steve, not at all. It was just something he believed with his full-heart. Peter was the best of them. And that made him better. Steve knew it to be true just the same as he did. They were immensely proud of the kid. 

Steve slowly reached over and threaded their hands together as they rest on the cup-holders between them. 

“This is a driving hazard, Steve. I need both hands on the wheel.” He teased and gently tapped his fingers against the wheel. “I know I’m tough to stay away from but-” 

Tony had set the phone down on his lap as he started to drive again but it was in the process of calling their son. Only, he just noticed the call failed. 

“His phone must have died.” Tony mumbled with a frown and Steve reached over to grab it again. “I told him to put a charger in his car for emergencies.” He clicked his tongue. 

“That kid, I tell ya...” Steve was half-amused and half-worried. “He’s so smart, a little ditzy though.” Steve giggled, having fond memories of the boy sliding his phone down the stair railings or tripping over his own feet yet the next minute landing a back-flip perfectly. 

“Tell me, I’m the smartest guy you know, correct?” Tony leaned his hand over and gently thumped his palm against Steve’s thigh with a teasing smile. 

“I don’t know how your head fits in this car....” He tilted his head back and laughed “But, I’d say so. Yeah.” He crossed his arms and waited for Tony to finish. 

“Peter had his little friends over the other day-”

“Ned and MJ?” Steve asked.

“Yeah!” He gestured with his hands. They were good pals of their son. Tony actually liked them very much. They were both bright kids, he could see them having amazing futures ahead. “I couldn’t understand a damn thing they were saying.” He snapped with an expression that fully enhanced his point of astonishment. 

“That’s very humbling of you to admit.” Steve teased him and lightly pinched his arm. Tony rolled his eyes and turned the car. “But you’re spot on. It’s like they’re speaking another language.” He tried to recall some of his latest encounter with Peter’s friends. 

“It was all half-sentences and...” Tony trailed off and tried to think of some things he could actually pick out of the conversations. “Lots of laughing. So much laughing-” 

“-A lot of what I assume are references that go right over my head.” Steve added with a shrug and Tony reached over to grab his hand that somehow drifted from his grip. He thought about their boy having the time of his life, sitting in their home with his friends. He loved nothing more than seeing a smile on that kid’s face. That’s what he was working, living and breathing for. 

“This...” Tony’s eyes glazed over with deep-thought which could sometimes worry Steve. “This is not where I saw my life going. Not even close.” He shrugged. They were both very familiar with this conversation but Steve hoped to run further with it this time. He craved to know the full extent of his husbands thoughts on the subject. “But here it is.” He squinted in the rear-view mirror. 

“I think I always saw this kind of life-style for myself.” Steve spoke with earnest love in his voice that comforted yet annoyed Tony. “It’s you that’s the weird part for me.” He reached over and pinched him again. 

“Oh, That’s real nice, Steve. You been practicing your sweet talk just for me?” 

“I just mean...I never imagined...” Steve searched for words out on the road in front of them. 

“I got it.” Tony interrupted, his face genuinely understanding. 

Tony and Steve were very different people sometimes. It was hard to believe that they could become so much more. It was shocking to both of them when it inevitably happened. 

Tony wanted his little family to live in a world that he designed. A world where everyone was happy. And sometimes his dedication to the idea and the methods he used to get there drove them all crazy. Sometimes it felt like a dream that would have to go unfulfilled. And he couldn’t deny that it was a crazy idea. But Steve was just as crazy. He didn’t just want to go along with Tony’s dreams, no, he also wanted to help him with 100% dedication...even if it required challenging him. 

That was how Tony knew he was the one. 

Sure they could butt heads but...that was their thing. 

“I love you, you know.” Steve picked up their hands and lightly kissed the back of Tony’s hand with such and tender and loving energy that Tony nearly blushed.

“Yeah, I think when we got married, that was a big clue.” Tony smiled and squeezed his hand lightly while Steve rolled his eyes for what felt like the 80th time that day and maybe over the millionth time just since marrying Tony. 

They went silent again, just enjoying the tiny bit of calm driving. Lately they had been far too busy to enjoy the little things so it was a nice break from the usual life chaos. 

                      ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ 

Tony and Steve each breathed a sigh of relief when they pulled into the Gas Station lot and saw their sons little car parked next to a pump. Peter’d done his fair share of hard work and earned the money for that car himself just like his parents had taught him (Although Tony had been insisting they spoil him ‘just this once’ & buy it for him because they clearly had the money and it’s what Peter deserved-but Steve kept him on track there) (And maybe they did secretly pitch in a little bit). 

Tony hopped out of the car quickly, ready to lecture Peter while Steve strolled over a little more relaxed. 

But not five seconds after getting out, Tony turned with an expression that made Steve’s stomach drop. “He’s not in the car.” 

“He’s not in the car-? What do you mean...” Steve’s heart started pounding in his chest as he tried to look into the vehicle himself like he didn’t believe Tony. “Where did he go-?” He didn’t mean to sound angry but it jumped out in his tone. 

“I don’t know!” Tony frantically answered with his own irritation and worry coming through clearly. The two of them stood there in bit of a shock before Tony pushed past to go ask around. Steve was about to follow but-

“Tony.” 

His husband turned and literal fire could be seen in his stare when his eyes fell upon their carefree son, strolling over to them from a ways down the street with a light grin and a shopping bag. Happy to see his parents. 

“Peter-” Steve began but Tony interrupted him (almost like it was a talent of his) and sped over to the boy. 

“What the hell were you thinking?” He narrowed his eyes and Peter frowned, stepping back a little like a kicked puppy. Peter opened his mouth but Tony wagged his finger in his face. “I’ll answer for you. You weren’t thinking. Clearly.” he gestured to the empty car. Steve took this as his opportunity to step in before Peter either commented on that over-used dad line or burst into a rant of an apology/excuse. 

“Pete. You nearly gave us both a heart-attack just now.”

“I was only gone for a few minutes and besides, I saw you guys pull up from across the street so it wasn’t like you were here very long-” 

Tony rubbed his hands against his forehead and groaned. Steve threw him a look to say ‘hold on a minute’. 

“You got stuck at some sketchy gas station for some time over an hour and we come to take you home and find you gone. We know your phones dead, so we had no way to contact you. How do you think that feels, son?” Steve crossed his arms and Peter rolled his lips together. 

“I just wanted to get something cool for Ned and the shop wasn’t too far, I thought I could walk over.” He shrugged and took defeat before digging in his bag. “Finally got that car charger though.” He could see his son hoping that might fix the situation a little. 

He could hear Tony start to pull out the jumper cables and get to work on starting that process. So Steve gave his son a little pat on the shoulder and a cross look before urging him to hop into his vehicle to get outta there. 

After a few minutes and some false starts, they got the car to start. Peter looked delighted at the idea of finally being able to leave. Steve got out from his passengers side (with some of Peter’s car garbage to toss) and made his way back to his husband. 

He leaned into the window, arms stationary on the ledge while he stood above him. Tony seemed particularity thrilled with this position. He grinned with a little tease. 

“I’m riding with the kid. You got a long lonely hour.” He took a few seconds longer to pat Steve’s thick arm and pushed him aside to get out. 

“Hey, it’s better than the lecture Peter’s gonna get. I’ll take it.” He shrugged and hoped inside. 

“Miss me.” Tony winked and threw up a peace sign before jogging over, opening Peter’s door and gently shoving him over to the passengers side. The boy knocked over an empty Red Bull can but managed to get into his seat safely. 

“Dad. I’m really sorry I made you drive all the way here and you’re right. I wasn’t thinking-” 

“Save it. I’m tired. I’m gonna turn the radio on and let that ride for the first twenty minutes or so of this drive...” He slid his hand smoothly in the air "And then we’ll talk. Gotta build up a good lecture anyway, y’know?” He gave Peter’s arm a quick pat, waved for Steve to go on and started to pull out. 

Only, the car made it just to the edge of the lot before it let out a few choice sounds and stopped once more. 

Peter’s eyes widened and his cheeks turned red with utter embarrassment. “Oh my god. I forgot to get the gas.” 

Tony sat up straighter and tried to hold in his laughter because he was still angry. But the boy could just be so...pure sometimes. “Tell me how, bud?” 

“I just-I went in to get the Red-Bull and I-” He shrugged and was wondering if it was appropriate to laugh as well. “I forgot.” 

As Steve circle the building to pull back in to see what the hell happened now, Tony pulled his son in for quick hug and ruffled his hair. “You’re something kid.” 

“I’m sorry.” 

“Oh I know you are.” He nodded. 

                         ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Peter went straight to bed when they got home. The long lecture and the embarrassment of showing up to MJ’s house with his parents was fresh on his mind. 

Steve & Tony, however, finally got some time to get back to their activities. 

And the activities, as it turned out, somehow became drinking wine in the kitchen with some dumb, old sit-com on to make fun of.

Because that was life with a teenager. 

[geekofmanyforms]

New Beginning

Summary: Unlike her twin sister, Elena, Elara Gilbert never quite fit in. Heck, how could she when this was at least the 50th time she'd relived her teenage years? Cursed by a sorceress a thousand years ago, Elara is stuck in an infinite loop of birth, life, and death, dying on her 18th birthday in each lifetime. Her curse is inevitable, and there is no escaping what's to come.

 AN: I do not own the Vampire Diaries or the world any of the known characters come from. I only own my OC’s and any original ideas that you see incorporated into this story. ATTN: My wonderful Beta, by the name of Casey, is currently helping me slowly rewrite this fic and fix any mistakes. So, if you see the first few chapters looking a lot better then the ones that follow; that is why. Also, I love constructive criticism so please to let me know what you think. I am working on my own original work so I could use the help fine-tuning my writing. This fic is on Wattpad, AO3, and FFN. I currently have 33 chapters written and will post them here if I receive enough requests. Otherwise, you may search my username on any of the three listed sites to find the other chapters.

                                    Chapter One

Looking back, there isn’t a doubt in my mind that I was ever ‘normal.’ Even as a child, I could see and do things no one else could. It never scared me, however- to me, it felt normal to be able to do what I could. I never thought anyone would view my abilities as something to fear until I was forced to show them. I remember the day I first showed anyone my skills as clear as crystal. That day, I learned that to be abnormal wasn’t a good thing. That day, I lost the filter of innocence I had to shield my childhood from the horrors of the human condition. That day, I learned you can never truly trust anyone.

It was an average day, like any other. The sun was shining brightly; I remember the way it felt seeping into my skin as my fraternal twin sister Elena and I climbed the trees beside our house. We climbed the trees in our yard almost every day. Even with the day starting as average as any other, it just happened to end up a defining moment in my childhood - all because a swift gush of wind and a few strands of errant hair caused my sister to lose her footing.

For many years, I grew up thinking everyone was as ‘special’ as I was. My mother always told me I had an active imagination, that the things I told her I could see were all in my head. After that, I decided to keep my newfound abilities to myself. I was fearful of what she would say or do if she ever found out that none of it was actually in my head.

It’s funny how quickly a few minor things can come together and change your life forever. I watched helplessly from the lower branches as she tried to brush her hair from her face, causing her to lose her balance and fall. I screamed her name as she plummeted towards the ground, her fingers grasping at the empty air as if to catch a stray branch and save herself.

If I close my eyes, I can still see myself rushing to her at the sound of her cries. I can remember the abrasiveness of the tree bark underneath my palms, scraping and scratching my skin as I dropped from the tree. All other thoughts had left my mind as adrenaline coursed through me; I needed to get to my sister.

I had always been protective of Elena. I was born first, even if it was only by mere minutes, so I always viewed myself as the elder sister — her protector. When I finally reached her at the bottom of the tree, she was sprawled out on the bright green grass. Her legs bunched up around her middle as she gasped in pain. I held her in my arms as she cried, telling her everything was going to be alright, to take a deep breath and try to relax. I gently lifted her arm to find that it was turning a purplish color and was twisted in a way that I knew, even at such a young age, was unnatural. Her pale face was screwed up in agonizing pain, tears streaming down her cheeks. I wanted so badly to help her, to take her pain away. Somewhere deep inside, I knew I could do something to ease her suffering. I was nervous to show her my abilities, but I couldn’t see her in such pain and do nothing. If anyone were to accept me for who I am, I was sure it would be my sister.

I placed my small hand on her arm and closed my eyes. I imagined her arm healed, back in its rightful place as it had been only moments before. Bright blue light poured from my fingertips, and her bones maneuvered back into place.

Elena gasped and pulled away from me quickly. She held her arm against her chest in shock, staring at me wide-eyed and fearful. She looked down at her freshly healed arm with hesitation, then screamed.

“W- what are you?” She shrieked, rising to her feet and stepping backward away from me, “Some kind of-of- monster?”

My heart broke. Did she really think of me as a monster? I had tried to help, and I scared her. I never expected my own sister to turn against me like that. My blood began to boil, my heart pounded violently in my chest; I was so angry. I stepped toward her, ignoring the way she flinched back, the disgust plain on her face. I slammed my fist square into her face, enjoying the crunch against my knuckles as her nose shattered. Blood poured down her front as she stumbled backward, falling onto her bum.

“You FREAK!” she hissed. “You’re a freak, Elara!”

I earned a nice sentence of four weeks locked in my room for punching my sister. My parents didn’t believe it when Elena told them about what had happened with her arm. They thought we had been playing and it had gotten out of hand. There was no possible way I could’ve healed a broken arm; it was impossible.

They could deny the possibility of Elena’s recount of her arm injury, but the proof of her broken nose was right on her face. That one I couldn’t deny and didn’t particularly want to. I was angry at my sister for what she had said, and as far as I was concerned, she deserved what I did to her in return.

Being whatever I was, I started to be very careful about who I trusted. If a member of my own family couldn’t accept me for who or what I was, I feared no one could. From that day forward, I never said another word about the things I could see or do. My sister showed me that I would be viewed as something scary or unnatural. Telling anyone could potentially bring me one of two things: pain or punishment. I chose to keep to myself from then on — I was afraid I would hurt someone again. I didn’t want to be the monster my sister accused me of being.

Our relationship never mended. We started doing everything separately after that day, instead of together; I honestly doubt she even remembers why. As we grew, she found her own group of friends, and I found mine. Well, I found one; Caroline Forbes. She had been my sister’s friend before she was mine. She and my sister are still friendly, but they aren’t nearly as close as we are.

At first, I couldn’t stand Caroline. I could hardly handle being in the same room as her. But, the more she bugged me, the more I started to like her. She had a fiery personality, one that you couldn’t help but be drawn to.

So, that’s how my life went. I hid away until Caroline showed up, dragging me out to a party or school function that I really didn’t want to go to. I’d rather stay home buried in a good book, but Caroline would have none of that.

That is until the Salvatore’s moved back into town. I had known from the minute Stefan knocked into my sister in the hallway at school that he wasn’t human. I could feel it, and not to mention, I had seen him before. He showed up in one of the many memories I had received of my past lives. I’m not yet sure how many times I’ve lived and died, but I know it’s numerous.

Every night, the memories come to me like nightmares. For the longest time, I thought they were until I was visited by one of the spirits that haunt me. Throughout my many lives, I’ve seen different spirits — some dead, some trapped in limbo, or the ‘in-between,’ as I call it. It’s my way of saying they are stuck in a realm somewhere between life and death.

This particular spirit, Rebekah, was my personal favorite. We had been friends in quite a few of my past lives. Her spirit form has plagued me off and on for as long as I could remember. She isn’t exactly a ghost, but someone who tends to get stuck in the in-between, thanks to a very long story full of family drama. We’ll get to that later.

I’ve always been drawn to her and her family. I don’t really know why; I have only unlocked a few of my past lives. It’s a painful process that I cannot control, and when it happens, it can take me days to recuperate. It’s like being forced to eat even after you’re full. It makes me feel like I could explode, bursting into a billion pieces if I bumped into something the wrong way. The headaches are the worst part, it feels like someone is pushing hot pokers into both of my eyes at the same time.

So when Stefan showed up, I knew exactly who and what he was. Rebekah had come to me the night before and told me everything was about to change. She told me that once again, I was going to be drawn into her family drama.

Great, that was just what I needed!

Even without Bekahs warning, I had remembered a bit about Stefan. I had run into him before, just as I had the Mikaelsons. I was sure he had come back to town the minute he heard there was a doppelganger of one of the women who had caused his change, Katherine.

Lucky me, this specific doppelganger happened to be my sister. Note the sarcasm.

Thankfully, he hadn’t noticed me playing the creepy stalker at the other end of the hall as he spoke to Elena for the first time. I made sure I steered clear of him the entire day. It hadn’t been easy, we all shared the same classes, but I had made sure to play hooky and hideout.

I wasn’t sure if he would recognize or remember me, but I didn’t want to take the chance of him giving me away in front of Elena. I had worked really hard to keep my typical, average girl cover, and I did not want that ruined by anyone.

Especially by some vampire who wanted to stalk my sister because she looked like his ex-lover.

I needed to speak to him alone, so that’s what I planned on doing. I would follow a vampire home, knock on the door, and ask to chat.

Smart right?

Masterlist

[jinkisbelly]

Oblivious - 1/2

Hello~  Pairing: Friends -----> lovers! onkey Rating: pg  w/c: 2.2k Summary: Kibum is a high-end Jewelry designer that lives in the city, who’s best friend is Jinki, who owns his own veterinarian clinic and owns a small farm about an hour from Kibum’s place. Saturday’s are their weekly dinner ‘dates’.

The pencil made a soft, soothing sound as it shaded the sketch lightly. Kibum hummed quietly, right foot tapping slightly as he fidgeted, and a gentle sway of the classical music coming from the portable speaker sitting on the desk to his right. He’d clean up the sketches and scan them into the computer later, for he had once tried the tablet and despised the feeling of it in his hand. He enjoyed the texture of the paper as he moved across the parchment, the way a finely sharpened pencil felt as it’s line was pulled, and the way the eraser squished just a little when he used it to make a mistake disappear. He stopped moving the pencil, tip still against the sketch pad when the door to his office opened. Not that he needed it to in order to know who it was, all glass of the inner wall took away the necessity. He smiled easily though, “Hey, Minho.”

“There were donuts in the breakroom. I saved you a jelly-filled.” Minho slipped in, the glass door closing soundlessly behind him, and slid the donut onto the desk on it’s napkin. “That weird girl in accounting was eyeing it.”

Kibum softly snorted. “Well thank you for saving it from the world of numbers.”

“You’re very welcome.” Minho scowled for a minute at the sprinkle that fell on his white button up. “What are you up to this weekend?”

“Mm, the usual.” Kibum pushed his sketch pad forward with the tips of his fingers and placed the pencil along the binding. After wiping his hands on the damp cloth to his right he lifted the donut closer. “Tomorrow I’m going over Jinki’s for our weekly dinner. Gonna take Garcons over there for the first time, see how he fares against the chickens that guard the back porch.”

“You sound like you’re dating him.” Minho paused to lick his fingers of chocolate icing before asking, “Are you?”

Kibum’s boisterous laughter probably could be heard across the building. “Me? Dating Jinki? Hilarious.”

“Well, either way, I hope you have a good time.” Minho grinned as he stood, dropping his napkin in Kibum’s wastebasket. “I’ll see you on Monday.”

As the door closed behind the man Kibum scooped some of the jelly from his donut with his finger and as he ate it slowly he laughed quietly to himself. “Yeah.. dating Jinki.. Hilarious.”

-----

Saturday Night

The sun was setting on the horizon. The few cows were grazing up on the hill, causing a beautiful silhouette. Kibum stepped out of his car, small poodles following after him and causing a billow of dirt to flow into the air around their feet. He glanced around as he closed the door, the food he brought to make in the bag in the back seat. He spotted Jinki through the open barn door, rubber boots on his feet and his big silver bucket Kibum knew to be the feed for the horses. He looked away from the horse trying to get to the bucket when he heard the yaps of the dogs. The smile on his face spread easily, even with the dirt splattered on his face. “Hey! Is it dinner time already?”

“Yeah,” Kibum snorted when the horse, the nameplate telling him their name was Chu, knocked against the gate again out of impatience. “It seems you’re being too slow.”

“Just because you’re pregnant Chu Baby doesn’t mean you get special treatment. HEY!” Jinki stepped far enough away so his shirt wasn’t in reach of her teeth. He pouted, “You’re being an asshole because we have company, aren’t you?”

She whinnied in response. Jinki grumbled as he opened the gate and poured the oats into her pale. He was running his hand over her coat when Kibum quietly said, “But you love her.”

“She’s my favorite, but don’t tell the others.” Jinki grinned before stepping out and locking the gate behind him. “Let’s get inside. Garcons is picking a fight with the wrong hen.”

Kibum whipped around just in time to see the bird peck rapidly at the tiny puppy and rushed to scoop him up. “Oh baby no, no, not Mrs. Pots. She’s mean.”

As they headed out Jinki gestured toward Commedes, walking as far away as he could from the chicken. “They learn though.”

Jinki slipped his boots off on the back porch, tossing them onto the grass along the steps. Kibum had already dropped the slippers Jinki placed on the table down beside him. Jinki took the leashes from him so he could run down and get the food from his car. He returned just as Jinki was pushing open the door. “Yes, yes guys air conditioning.”

Commedes ran straight for the first cat bed in sight as soon as the leash was off his collar as usual. Garcons was a little more hesitant. He was just a tiny dog in a big new world. Jinki was leaning against the archway leading into the kitchen watching him slowly make his way into the big living room as Kibum carefully unloaded his bag. “I thought we could have garlic pasta.”

“Sounds great Kibum.”

“Oh and you already have the wine chilling, wow I love you.”

“It’s white of course it’s chilled.” Jinki hummed. “I think Garcons has found his spot.”

“Let me guess,” Kibum quietly spoke as he straightened with the pots and skillet he needed. “On your recliner?”

“Exactly. How the fuck did you know that?”

“He sleeps in mine all the time.” Kibum untwisted the bag of garlic. “Are you going to help me or lay with my dog like the last hundred times?”

“I help!” Jinki exclaimed as he turned away from checking on the pups and walked to the edge of the counter to lean against it on his elbows. He smiled cutely. “I eat everything you make for me. I make dishes easier.”

“Uh huh.” Kibum scuffed, tossing a napkin at him. “Wipe off the counter and go shower. You smell like a farm.”

“Yeah, yeah I’m going I’m going.”

-----

The timer on the oven was beeping when Jinki’s soft footsteps could be heard coming down the hall. His hair was still a little damp. He was wearing blue plaid pajama pants and a long sleeve t-shirt that Kibum was sure he had in college. The man perked up when he saw the garlic bread being placed on top of the stove. “Is that cheese?”

“No that’s bread.” Jinki glared at him, which was menacing at all as per usual, before grabbing a slice. He yelped softly at the temperature, breathing quickly on it to try and cool it down, before taking a bite anyway. Kibum crossed his arms as he leaned back against the kitchen island. “I’m surprised you even have any taste buds left with how often you burn them with your impatience.”

“Don’t make such delicious food and I wouldn’t have to.” Crumbs were falling out onto his lip and on his shirt as he spoke, words a little muffled from the mouth full of bread.

“You’re a mess.”

“Mm, no argument there.” Jinki put the rest of the bread on the plate on the right, knowing it was his by the extra cheese present on top. He grabbed both plates once Kibum placed his bread alongside his pasta. “You get the bottle Bum.”

He hooked his fingers around the two wine glasses carefully before curling his hand around the neck of the wine bottle, following Jinki out to his small dining room. The table only had places for up to four people, five if the squeezed, but Jinki wasn’t much for extensive visitors or guests… so it worked. Kibum popped the cork and poured them each a glass before taking his seat to the left of Jinki, back up against the white lace of his curtains that when open gave a beautiful view of the magnolia trees he had planted along his driveway.  “Anything exciting happen at work?”

Jinki laughed a little as he twirled his fork in his pasta, “I own a vet clinic. It’s not a day until some type of pet does some type of bodily relief on me.”

“That’s not exciting if it happens all the time,” Kibum scrunched his nose, a little grossed out. Then he remembered the story Jinki was telling him on Wednesday and his eyes widened, “Whatever happened to that kitten?”

“Mm,” Jinki hummed as he finished his bite, “The underweight one that I should’ve put down?”

“Yeah.”

“Oh well, he’s in cat room.”

“Jinki~”

“What?” Jinki dipped his head, shy and embarrassed. “I had two cats, what’s another one?”

Kibum’s gaze softened, knowing deep down that the kitten was going to go home with Jinki no matter what. “Well after dinner you’ll have to show me them.”

“I have to feed him anyway!”

“Him, hmm? Have you named him?”

“Chip.” Jinki happily answered. “His front tooth was chipped when they brought him in so.. Chip.”

“You knew you were going to take him even before you weighed him, didn’t you?”

Jinki played with his food, swirling the noodles with his fork, cheeks a little pink as he mumbled. “I dunno what you’re talking about.”

“Mhmm.”

“Shut up.”

----

The second movie’s credits were rolling as Kibum drank the last sip of wine from the bottle. Jinki’s eyes were beginning to close, for he had always been a sleepy type of drinker. The tipsier he felt the warmer he was, and the drowsier he became. He tugged his blanket tighter around his shoulder as he shifted his head against the couch cushion to look at him. “Are you ready for bed?”

“Should’ve been like 2 glasses ago but yeah.” Kibum’s gaze fell to his lap, where Jinki’s eldest cat Moe was stretched out like he owned the spot. “Don’t think he’s gonna like it though.”

Jinki unswaddled himself to scoop the fat cat up off Kibum. “Come on sweetie. It’s time for bed.”

Moe protested, as expected, but soon he slowly made his way down the hall to the right, toward the room where his big meant-for-a-dog bed was waiting for him. Commedes and Garcons were sleeping in the cat bed under the table. Kibum knew that Commedes would be okay, but Jinki still put out a pee pad he still had from puppy fostering just in case Garcons needed to go. “I hope he doesn’t go on your floors.”

“With what’s happened in this house, it wouldn’t be the first,” Jinki paused for a minute gathering his blanket. “Or last for that matter.”

Their glasses and the empty bottle was dropped off in the kitchen on their way down the left hallway, where the master bedroom was. Jinki tossed a pair of pajama pants on the bed for Kibum as he went to brush his teeth and wash his face before bed. One thing that had come out of being friends with Kibum for so long was his skincare routine. He was coming out finished when Kibum was walking in, picking up the toothbrush that was left in the cup for him.

Jinki was comfortable in bed, hugging his pillow tight. His glasses were folded and placed on his table. He squinted to see him coming in. “I think tomorrow I’m going to make waffles.”

“Waffles?” Kibum echoed as he lifted the blankets on the other side of the bed. It had been a few years since Jinki had bought this house and made it his home, and about that long since they had made Saturday nights their dinner night. He could remember Jinki’s ludicrous tone when he offered to sleep on the couch when it was far too late and he was far too tipsy to drive home. ‘I’ve put aloe on your ass when you fell asleep at the beach with a thong on. I think we can sleep in the same bed.’. Even now when Jinki had a guest bedroom, it was the routine. He was fussing with his pillow as he asked, “Why waffles?”

“I haven’t used the waffle maker you got me in a while.” Jinki softly explained, turning onto his back to be able to look over at him. “Unless you want something else.”

“No, no, waffles are good.” Kibum shifted onto his left side, hands under his cheek, smiling as he gazed over at Jinki. “Goodnight.”

“Mm, goodnight Bum.”

------

While Kibum showered and got dressed in the extra clothes he packed, Jinki went to work on the waffles. After breakfast, he would go out and take care of his animals. He was plating the first waffle when he heard Kibum coming from his bedroom. He had a toothbrush in his hand, toothpaste foam on his lip as he removed it to speak. “I keep telling you that shampoo is bad for your hair.”

“Does my hair look bad?” Kibum pauses, mid brush and looks at him fully. Jinki’s hair is everywhere from sleep, a little frizzy even, and he just bursts out laughing when the man smiles from ear to ear at him. Jinki almost drops the batter in his hand when the toothpaste foam starts coming out of Kibum’s mouth, threatening to drip onto his clean shirt. “Please go fix yourself before my tummy hurts too much from laughing to eat my waffle.”

-----

[shxdowoforre]

((I made a banner! A basic one for my basic ass self but it helps organize things still! Now then, today’s headcanons are--))

TEAM SNAGEM HEADCANONS

(and how Snagem affected Wes)

A thank you to @tenderpoison for making me think of doing this. Because, honestly, I completely forgot that I had barely made any hc’s for Snagem! So it let me think a lot about how stuff worked there.

Snagem was founded by Gonzap and they were independent at first. Essentially just a bunch of bums from Pyrite, The Under, and any other asscrack in Orre were what comprised the members.

It was founded because, as stated on my base list of Orre hc’s, Orre’s government is a shithole and so was the economy, and Gonzap and co. wanted some damn money.

They literally stole anything and everything at first. Anything they needed for survival, or once they became stronger, anything they wanted. They stole shit. That’s just about their whole deal.

When they discovered the black market for Pokemon was hot in Orre because of its competitive battle scene is when they decided to focus on stealing mainly Pokemon. Stealing anything became kinda risky business when they tried stealing from a Trainer with ridiculous Pokemon because he battled the Colosseums all the time. ‘Cause at first there weren’t many of these types, but as the competitive battle scene picked up they were everywhere. And everyone wanted to win, and they’d pay top dollar for fighting machines.

Now, Snagem’s members had pretty decent Pokemon themselves, but they were nothing like the Orre Trainers’. They had trouble stealing any until Gonzap had to personally step up and crush some dudes to get the ball rolling. Because Gonzap is the only one who actually trained up his own Pokemon when he saw the Trainers getting tougher.

Even after this, the Snagem members Pokemon didn’t get much stronger, and they often borrowed some stolen Pokemon on loan from Gonzap to get stuff done or, more commonly, they instead taught their Pokemon moves to turn them into trolls. Status moves like Sleep Powder, Smokescreen, Swagger, etc. They began relying on these moves to KO the Trainer and just take their Poke Balls rather than deal with a tough battle. Quicker, easier, why not?

Plenty of Snagems members didn’t even steal though, because they're lazy asses. These guys would hang round the base and just laze on the couch or be general mechanics/contractors.

Snagem’s HQ is a janky hovel, but it’s tough to breach. The canyon helps a lot with providing defense, but the stolen pieces that comprise the whole place are still pretty sturdy. Orre tech in general can be as advanced as Aether’s, so with that stolen stuff they can still have a pretty tough fortress.

If you get through the front door, you then have to deal with all the crowds of Snagem dudes that will rush your ass when they discover an intruder. See: Pokemon Colosseum opening. No matter how tough your Pokemon are, Horde Battles are a bitch, and Snagem does not follow standard battle rules.

In addition to the HQ, Snagem had several points of territory across Orre that they enforced and kept other smaller gangs off their turf. There were no other set bases besides maybe the abandoned house of the day.

For the internal hierarchy of Snagem members, it started a little like this.

1. Courier/Frontman: You’re not so much a member of Snagem as you are just somebody they hire on as a mule or pretty face to advertise. Couriers just run packages to people Snagem is dealing with or other Snagem members who need it. You compete with Pokemon for the Courier position too. Wanna know why Wes is a fast runner? Wanna know why Wes has such a speed machine and can drive so well? There’s some reasons. He started in this position, and he damn sure wasn’t gonna lose it. Now, as a kid, of course, he could only handle small hover bikes, but he learned how to mod them fast.

2. Base member/Lazyass: Base members of Snagem don’t do much besides just do basic errands and stuff. Anything other members can’t do basically gets shoved onto these guys. Including the grosser stuff like cleaning up ‘the messes’. They never elaborated on what. They’d just say to go clean up this mess or that mess. And Base members gotta do it. Or they can be lazy. A lot do. The HQ doesn’t smell nice. Especially since Orre is hotter than Groudon’s Drought.

2.1 Mechanic/Contractor: These guys are still technically Base members but they can actually, like, do stuff. So they’re treated a little better, and they don’t have to clean gross stuff up! They fiddle with all the machines and make sure the HQ is in good condition.

3. Thieves/Snaggers: Aka when Gonzap actually starts to give a fuck about you. If you meet your quota. This is arguably the most valuable tier members can be, even more than Admins. Anyone in this tier is part of the group of people that are assigned to go out and steal what is needed. Don’t care how, don’t give excuses, steal it. Steal everything you’re told to, or it’s back to Base member for you. Even some Snaggers were just those types that used Sleep Powder, but if you could steal, and steal all on your quota, you could be in this tier. Snaggers are regularly in contact with Couriers to pass off the goods to, and this is where Wes first met a Snagger. Immediately, it sowed the seeds in his head that would eventually lead to him wanting to pursue a higher position in Snagem. Snaggers are often the ones who get busted out of prison. Mechanics and Contractors, maybe. Admins, yeah. Snaggers, absolutely. Base members/Couriers/Frontmen? Lol they’ll send you a postcard.

4. Admins: Usually Gonzap’s close and trusted advisors and enforcers. Strong, yes, but they don’t have to be a Snagger. If you are, you may as well be a unicorn. Wes was on his way to being that rare combo before he stabbed everyone in the back.

5. Boss: Gonzap. Duh. The toughest dude, leads only the most important missions. Pretty standard stuff. A lot of day-to-day stuff gets left to the Admins but if he gets involved, you probably fucked up big time.

Now, Snagem also has a fun little ‘initiation’. It’s actually quite simple: Go to the HQ and report to Gonzap. Thing is, they have a messenger, usually another Courier, tell you this. No nice cushy ride for you. Go get there yourself. The most you may get told, if the member is nice enough to tell the Courier, is that it’s at Eclo Canyon. Normally people stop right there and go ‘Nah’ and back out. Plenty who try never show up. It’s safe to say, if you successfully find the HQ, you now know Eclo Canyon like the back of your hand. Which is important as all members need to know how. Wes cheated a little and stalked a Grunt there after being lost, but it worked!

New members are often treated roughly and used as a whipping boy a lot by other members. Aka they’d battle and fist fight a lot. Base members are the ones who really do this because they’re bored and it’s funny to punk a new guy.

They are nice to give you a uniform, but Wes didn’t like wearing it because they didn’t have a lot of different sizes and he was too small. He got a LOT of ‘attention’ for a while because of that.

Food in the earlier days of Snagem was a little scarce, and they didn’t ration. Get to your food first and take it before someone else does. Hiding it can work, but it normally gets found and it’s always nobody’s fault but your own if it does. That leaves eating it right there, but if another grunt is upset they didn’t get any they may just fight you until you puke it up to spite you. Wes had this happen several times himself.

Now, you don’t have to eat the food Snagem scrounges up. Nobody stops you from going out and getting your own. The HQ isn’t Snagem members’ house. It’s an HQ. You don’t pay rent for it, you work. Food is considered a luxury provided when they can give it. If you do go out to grab your own, don’t think other Snagem members won’t tail you. Just ‘cause you’re getting it from somewhere else doesn’t mean they won’t still try to take it or spite you.

Earning your respect in Snagem can take a while or it can happen really fast. Normally it involves asserting yourself enough to know that if anyone tries something, you’re gonna get thrashed. Contributing to Snagem a lot is another route. If you contribute a lot to Snagem but aren’t strong, you’re a ‘Daddy’s Boy’ and they fuck with you more than if you were just a new guy.

When you do earn your respect, everyone backs off, and you’re more or less finally seen as an equal, and people generally can get pretty friendly. You are ‘one of them’ sorta. It doesn’t mean any of the bullshit will stop, but they sorta feel like you can be trusted as far as Snagem is concerned. About as close to good friends and bros as can be. As long as you stayed with Snagem.

If you turn on Snagem, they will hunt you and utterly beat the hell out of you. Probably take all your stuff too. And they won’t stop. Not unless Gonzap calls them off.

So, overall, Snagem’s atmosphere is very much summed up as ‘a junkyard full of a pack of junkyard dogs’. Come on in if you can find em, but we ain’t gonna coddle anybody. Figure it out or leave.

All this was fine and dandy until Cipher came along. They gave one special thing to Snagem, and that was the Snag Machine.

Cipher completely took advantage of Snagem about it too. They knew Snagem would jump at the chance to use it, and so they used Snagem first as test subjects with their clunky Beta versions. The ones that were like vending machines.

These things were cumbersome and ridiculously hard to make use of. It wasn’t until Wes got the bright idea to actually disguise them as vending machines sitting on the back of a concealed truck did they actually steal any Pokemon with them. But Wes saw huge potential in this technology and was eager to see where it would go.

Eventually, to ‘thank’ Snagem for its help, Cipher ‘gifted’ them the only handheld Snag Machine. But it came at a steep price. They could have the Snag Machine, but Cipher demanded they go out and steal for Cipher as well as themselves.

Snagem, essentially, became Cipher’s bitch and stole at the snap of their fingers. Wes noticed this shift very quickly and he did not like getting put back into that tier after clawing his way out of it. He wasn’t gonna be nobody’s bitch, but if Snagem wanted to, Wes would treat them like one.

Snagem’s reaction was pretty basic when Wes betrayed Snagem, as seen in Colosseum, but Wes felt nothing when he betrayed them. Wes is a product of his environment, and Snagem undoubtedly created a monster by fostering his megalomania with their system. Several things, like the literal fighting for food, and the treatment of new members, contributed to the complexes Wes still has, such as never wanting to depend on anyone. The hyperaggressive environment, in turn, made Wes hyperaggressive when he felt threatened or wanted to assert dominance. He wouldn’t have even felt a need to assert any sort of dominance if Snagem hadn’t beat it into him that he had to, lest he be pushed around by everyone. Wes had his own bad traits, but Snagem basically took all of Wes’ bad personality traits and amplified them.

[conversationswithhank]

Me: Good morning, Hank.

Hank: Morning.

Me: How did you sleep?

Hank: (stretching like a cat) So well I didn’t want to get out of bed.

Me: That is the best and worst kind of sleep.

Hank: Isn’t it?

Me: Are you ready for your day?

Hank: No. I mean, I have my backpack packed and I’m dressed, but I’m not ready, you know?

Me: I hear you. Life is hard.

Hank: Yes!

Me: No, I mean it. I was up late into the night trying to remember if I ever properly explained to you that life is hard.

Hank: I know.

Me: But do you? Nothing in life ever came easily to me. I do not remember ever being just naturally good at something, ever. Everything took work. Even now, especially now.

Hank:

Me: I spent most of my young life confused, because reading and writing were so hard for me and for other kids it seemed they could just do it, and math, too. It was never easy for me to make friends. I had a few good friends, but over all the majority of kids in my class and at my schools had a rather low opinion of me and liked to tell me my flaws as if it wasn’t obvious I wasn’t aware of them myself. It took a rather long time from my personality to progress from obnoxious to funny and I was awkwardly experimental in finding my style and finding myself beautiful. Being a mom was the hardest thing I have ever done and I am still learning from my mistakes, even ten years later, to be your and Molly’s best mother. I’ve had to work harder than anyone I know to achieve any goal to my minimal satisfaction since first grade and that, at times, has made me feel extremely alone, but I never gave up and I never surrendered.

Hank:

Me: I know you are bummed about your low grade on your Portuguese test, but I promise you: your teachers, your papa and I, we are here and we support you. If you trust us we will help you and encourage you to do better. If your doing your best, your best is enough and that includes learning that what you thought was your best could be improved.

Hank: That hurts my feelings. I thought I did my best, but I didn’t.

Me: I know it does. Life isn’t easy, but it is always worth it. To achieve your school goals you will have to work harder especially when it isn’t easy and especially when your feelings are hurt, but if you put in the work now hard work won’t intimidate you further down the road.

Hank:

Me: No one says this to kids. Adults lecture and advise and hug, but they rarely explain. It will take time, it will feel like forever and it will be work, but if you have a goal and you achieve it then the pride you feel will be worth the effort. Plus, that is why there are chocolates and bike rides and video games in the world. You can’t deny yourself the good; the good makes the work worth it.

Hank: When I sit down to take a test I just want it to be over. I am so worried that I won’t finish that I rush and papa told me that is where I make mistakes. I just wish there were no clocks and we had our own time.

Me: I am listening, You have precious little of your own time in life. You have your school time, then your homework time, then your responsibility time such as cleaning and hygiene, then you have family time which is great, but can be stressful and only after do you have the illusive, me time. We will talk with your teacher and find a better way to help you manage the stress of the time clock. If you are your enemy then you have the power to win the fight.

Hank: (deep sigh)

Me: It is not easy to be ten.

Hank: It really isn’t.

Me: Ten is where you’re given responsibilities and begin to taste #adulting.

Hank: I hate it, I don’t want to grow up, but I also want my own apartment someday and I want to go to cafés and drink coffee and meet friends and have dinner parties and decorate and get my drivers license and got to university for something and I want to be good at stuff.

Me: You don’t have to grow-up to do those things! You don’t have to lose who you are now or give something away for those things. You just have to commit to work for them. You can work hard toward those goals wearing a Totoro onesie while doing your homework with a bright green gel pen while deep conditioning your hair and singing Eurovision songs at the top of your lungs.

Hank: Mom, be serious!

Me: I AM! You got a poor grade on your Portuguese test because you made lazy mistakes, you didn’t read directions, you rushed and you were careless with your spelling. You didn’t fail, but you almost did. I think the title of this chapter of your memoir is called, HANK: Age 10 and The End of Laziness… Except on the Weekends Because That is What Weekends Are For.

Hank: (giggling)

Me: So thank you for letting me talk to you about this. I just wanted you to understand that everything you love about your life our family and our home and everything I love about my life and our family is the result of years of dedication and hard work. Nothing came easy, but I am rich with love and happiness and friends and knowledge and success and no one gave me these things, but me. I hold the power to achieve my goals and so do you! I invested in myself when it would have been far easier to never even try. Now it is your turn to invest in your self and your goals.

Hank: Yah.

Me: Is this a helpful conversation or does this truth just stress you out?

Hank: (thinking) Helpful. (pause) Did things come easy for papa?

Me: That is his story to tell and you will have to ask him, but I believe everyone has a struggle, especially at ten years old, otherwise how would anyone appreciate the good things in life like sunsets and birthdays and lazy café afternoons and making their baby sister laugh or climbing on rocks at the seaside looking for tide pools.

Hank: That last one is my favorite.

Me: I know.

Hank: I miss my bed.

Me: Me, too.

Hank: I have to get going.

Me: I know, it’s time.

Hank: (deep, exhausted sigh)

Me: I am always here for you. You are not alone.

Hank: I know.

[clementineverett]

Chasing Waves - Chapter 1: Global Warming

I FINALLY FINISHED THE FIRST DAMN CHAPTER HOLY MOLY

I HOPE YOU ALL ENJOY!! :D

[Ao3 link]

Summary: Clementine chuckles before asking, “So, what’s the verdict?”

Gabe meets her gaze and nods. “I’m in.”

OR: Wanting to escape his dad’s expectation of joining the army after graduation, Gabriel Garcia stumbles across his opportunity in the form of the annual National History Bowl Championship.

Chapter 1: Global Warming

Of course.

Of fucking course Kate would tell him Mari’s ballet lessons ends at 5:00, not 5:30.

Gabe turns away from the reception desk with an exasperated sigh. As annoyed as he is, Gabe admits to himself that maybe he does run on Hispanic time. Consistently showing up to school fifteen minutes late for the past three years is an achievement his dad and Kate like to remind him on the daily. Given his track record of punctuality, he admits Kate made a smart move.

However, Kate had underestimated how eager Gabe still is to take the beat-up car he affectionately calls “Sexerella” (or “The Gabemobile” around his family) out for a spin. He had worked at Howe’s since the beginning of the year to save up for it -- a beige sedan older than he is that sports a few shallow dents. His old neighbour Pete offered her for $800 cash. Dad even inspected the car and commended on her well-maintained condition, given her old-ish age. Only the brake pads needed replacing.

Gabe considers grabbing an ice cream cone and waiting out the next thirty minutes at a nearby McDonalds, but gas is expensive and Gabe isn’t exactly balling, okay? So he plops down on the bench in front of the dance studio and prays there’s wifi. But before Gabe pulls his phone out, he peers into the windows of the studio and his breath catches in his throat.

Of all the people he expected to see today, Gabe definitely does not expect to see Clementine. Clementine, with the wide amber eyes, the curly hair often tucked under a baseball cap. Clementine, as in the girl he hasn’t maybe completely been lowkey crushing on for the past three years. Clementine, as in his best friend’s adopted sister who is not only totally out of his league, but also probably off-limits.

(Not that Duck had ever explicitly stated it -- Duck doesn’t even know, for starters. It’d be a cold fucking day in hell before Gabe would ever admit to Duck that he maybe has a thing for Clementine.)

And today, Clementine is helping an older woman (the instructor probably) correct the postures and stances of younger students. He knew she did ballet, from Duck’s offhand comments about dance rehearsals over the years. Gabe internally regrets not tagging along with Duck to her recitals.

Which isn’t weird, right? The Gordon household was essentially his second home, after all. But come to think of it, he had never exchanged more than a handful of sentences at a time with Clementine.

On an average day, Gabe would come upstairs from the basement to grab a glass of water in the kitchen after a grueling match of Melee with Duck (No Items, Fox Only, Final Destination). He’d stammer out a hello to Clementine, who’d normally be studying in the dining room or curled up on the couch with a mug of tea, and then run back downstairs before he could run his mouth and say something stupid like he usually does around cute girls.

He’s only here to fetch Mariana and get back home, easy peasy. Don’t look like a moron. Maybe even say hi to Clementine. But most importantly, don’t look like a moron. Or a creep. With that thought, Gabe rips his eyes from Clementine and glues them to his phone.

Browsing on his phone makes the half-hour wait go by smoothly. Students pour out of the door, signalling the end of the lesson. Mari isn’t among them, unsurprisingly. Gabe remembers how excited she was when Kate and Dad finally saved enough to pay for ballet classes.

Sucking in a deep breath, he pushes the studio doors open and suddenly pauses in his tracks. The sound of violins flood the room.

Clementine moves effortlessly across the floor, arms flowing above her and then behind her like a silk banner caught in a gentle breeze. She eases onto one foot and spins on her toes -- once, twice, three times -- then glides into a stance, with her arms reaching in front of her, her leg stretched behind, and her foot high above her head. Gabe is mesmerized.

And the door promptly collides with his face.

He stumbles backward and lands hard on his bum. Gabe instinctively presses his hand to his cheekbone where the door had hit it. It’s tender and smarting like a motherfucker. In that moment, he prays for two things: 1. that the bruise won’t be too obvious, and that 2. no one saw that.

Unfortunately for Gabe, God does not answer prayer number 2.

“Oh my god, are you okay?” Gabe looks up to see Clementine standing over him, her eyes wide in surprise and concern. Great, he cringes internally.

“Yeah, I’m good,” Gabe replies as he struggles to his feet. “Hi, Clementine,” he greets her, his face burning in utter embarrassment. Real fucking smooth, Garcia.

“Hi, Gabe,” Clementine says, brows furrowing in worry. “Are you sure you’re okay? That looked like it really hurt.”

“I’m fine, really,” Gabe refuses to meet her gaze. “Have you seen my sister, Mari, by the way?”

“Gabe!” he hears Mari call out as she rushes to him. “What happened?”

“Accident,” Gabe quickly responds. “Anyways, Kate sent me to pick you up, so,” he adds, “are you ready to go?” Gabe’s just a little desperate to leave. He’ll nurse over his bruised face and bruised ego the moment he gets home.

“Yeah,” Mari replies, nodding.

“Okay,” Gabe says. He stammers, “I, uh, I’ll see you at school next week, Clementine.”

“See you around,” Clementine replies. “You should probably get some ice for that.” She gestures to the bruise starting to form on his cheek.

“I will, thanks,” Gabe answers, absentmindedly scratching the back of his head.

“Okay then,” Clementine says. “I’ll see you next class, Mari.” Gabe huffs out a sigh when they reach the parking lot. Plan: Don’t Look Like A Moron has crashed and burned miserably. No survivors here.

Mariana snorts.

“What?” Gabe asks.

“That was kind of sad to watch back there,” Mari says lightly.

“What on earth are you talking about?”

“The door slamming on your head?” Mari responds. “I saw the whole thing.”

“It was an accident,” Gabe insists.

“You mean how your brain fries itself whenever you’re around a girl?”

“You’re crazy,” Gabe interjects. “It was just an accident. And my brain doesn’t fry itself, okay? I know how to act around girls,” he asserts with a thump to his chest. “I’ve had girlfriends before.”

“A girlfriend,” Mari corrects with a grin, “and that was in middle school? How long did that last again?”

Gabe swats Mari on the arm playfully. “You know, maybe leaving you on the side of the road is a good idea.”

“You wouldn’t,” Mari scoffs.

Gabe rolls his eyes before admitting with a fond sigh, “No, I wouldn’t.” He ruffles her hair wildly. “You’re my little sister, after all. It’s your job to annoy me.”

“Gabe! What the heck!” Mari yelps, ducking away. She combs her hands through her hair with an annoyed huff.

“Don’t fucking swear, Mari,” Gabe lectures, deadpan.

Mari rolls her eyes. “You’re such a dweeb.”

“Love you too,” Gabe teases as he unlocks his car.

“I’m guessing you’re picking me up from ballet from now on?” Mari asks with a smirk as she climbs into the passenger seat.

“Yes,” Gabe adds as he locks in his seatbelt, “but it’s only because Kate asked me to, since I have a car and I’m pretty much an adult now.”

“Riiiiiiight,” Mari singsongs, wiggling her eyebrows.

“You know,” Gabe suggests, “I was thinking of stopping by good ol’ Ronald for some ice cream, but since you’re being mean to me right now…”

“Oh come on,” Mari pleads. “Please? Can we?”

“I don’t know,” Gabe sighs, shrugging. “You really hurt me, Mari.” He dramatically places a hand over his heart and sticks his bottom lip out in an exaggerated pout.

“Alright, alright,” Mari concedes with an eyeroll. “I’m sorry, Gabe. Okay?”

“That’s better,” Gabe grins as he backs out of the parking spot. From the corner of his eye, he spots Mari fishing something out of her pocket. “What’s that?”

“It’s Pipo’s,” Mari replies quietly, showing him a portable cassette player.

Gabe nods solemnly. “Pop the cassette tape in.”

Gabe catches a glimpse of the tape’s label: Mi vida, mi corazón. He smiles as familiar salsa tunes drift through the car. The wind roars through the rolled down windows and threads through Gabe’s hair. Today, he’d forgone his beanie.

“This is the tape he always plays when he dances with Yaya,” Gabe recalls.

Mari chuckles. “Yeah. It’s his favourite.”

Gabe smiles wider at the fond memory. He used to find it embarrassing when he was younger. In hindsight, it was actually really adorable. Now Gabe would give anything to watch his grandparents dance again. To see Yaya laugh and smile like she did before. Just once more.

“I miss Pipo,” Mari murmurs.

“Me too,” Gabe sighs. “You know,” he changes the subject, “he kept a journal when him and Yaya left Cuba in 1980.”

“Really?”

“Yeah, I found it on a shelf at him and Yaya’s house,” Gabe says. “Dad must have been a baby when they left.”

“I wonder what made them leave Cuba,” Mari wonders.

“Cause of some guy named Fidel Castro,” Gabe responds. “He imprisoned and executed a lot of people who were against him. Even people who were thought to be against him.” Gabe grimaces. “I don’t blame them for leaving, it must have been really scary back then.”

“You got that from all documentaries you’ve been watching, haven’t you?” Mari asks.

“I wanted to know all the shit that was going on at the time,” Gabe says with a shrug.

“Books exist, you know,” Mari points out, “and they’re a lot less noisy, too.”

“But do books have moving pictures and explosions?” Gabe replies with a dismissive wave of a hand. “And besides, does it really matter how I learn?” He taps the side of his forehead. “Knowledge is power.

“Inglourious Basterds doesn’t count,” Mari drawls. “And besides, why would anyone want to know about what a bunch of old guys did years ago? Boooring.”

Gabe gasps sharply. “First of all, Quentin Tarantino’s movies are fantastic,” Gabe objects, “and secondly, that was the only history-related thing you actually managed to stay awake for. If you had just stopped falling asleep in the middle of the other actual historical films, I’m sure you would’ve found it interesting.”

“I fell asleep because they were uninteresting,” Mari responds sarcastically.

“Come on,” Gabe says, “how do you not find it interesting at all? How things came to be? Why our family came to the States in the first place? The wars and global events that literally affected everyone? How is that not interesting?!”

“I mean that’s cool, I guess,” Mari remarks, “but it’s just not my cup of tea.”

“Fair enough.”

“Hey,” Mari chuckles, “at least learning some history is more productive than bashing your head on the sidewalk all summer, like you did last year.”

“For the record,” Gabe starts, “I did finally master that kickflip, so it was totally worth.”

---

They hear the yelling before they even make it out of the driveway.

Gabe glances at Mari, who winces.

“Just go to your room, okay?” Gabe assures her. Mari nods meekly.

Inhaling deeply, he turns the key and swings the door open.

“Unless you want to dig up my CO’s fucking corpse-”

“David, it was an accident,” Gabe hears Kate plead. She’s clutching her left hand with a towel that’s stained bright red. Pieces of shattered glass lie scattered around the kitchen floor where they’re standing. “Maybe if we can actually afford a dishwasher, this wouldn’t have-”

“Do not start with this again,” his dad roars back, “that is the absolute last thing I need when I come home from work to support this family and pay off Pa’s treatments-”

Gabe retreats to his room, locking the door behind him before flopping onto his bed. He pops his headphones in, selecting a random song on his phone and maxing out the volume until the thundering drums and screeching guitars drown out the world.

He hates it when they get like this. Which is rare to begin with, though, since Kate usually goes along with whatever Dad says. Not that he can blame her, honestly. It’s the easier thing to do.

His phone beeps, shaking Gabe out of his thoughts. A text message from Duck.

Duck Gordon (6:17 PM): THE END IS NIGH

Gabe snorts and types out a reply.

Gabe Garcia (6:18 PM): Wat

Duck Gordon (6:18 PM): Senior year starts next week bitchez

Right. Gabe swallows nervously.

On one hand: fucking finally. It wasn’t that high school had been bad. It had just been so… average. He got decent grades, skateboarded with Duck, and generally stayed out of trouble. His high school life, so far at least, is nothing like those melodramatic teen soap operas Mari likes so much. Not that he wants his high school experience to be filled with messy love triangles and skeletons in the closet. But all those movies and TV shows Gabe had seen over the years made high school seem so magical, you know?

On the other hand: he graduates from high school… and then what?

“Not today,” Gabe groans to himself as he sits up on his bed. He’ll cross that bridge when he gets there.

Gabe pulls up his laptop, an outdated thing his uncle Javi passed down to him. He can’t run League of Legends on it anymore (he needed to quit anyway, since it really brought out his temper) and it’s a little laggy, but it still does the job when it came to watching YouTube and scrolling through social media. Gabe decides to finish up on the last hour of this documentary he’s been watching about the bombing of Hiroshima and Nagasaki. He pops the disc in the laptop and makes a mental note to drop off the DVD at the library tomorrow, since it’s due that day anyway.

He’s about half an hour in (and close to tears) when a loud knock rattles his door. The doorknob jiggles. “Gabe?” It’s Dad. Gabe instantly flies to the door and opens it.

“Why did you lock your door?” Dad snaps.

“Force of habit,” Gabe replies quietly. “Sorry, I won’t do it again,” he quickly adds.

“Good,” his dad comments curtly as he tiredly runs a hand over his head. Gabe can’t help but notice how even more salt and pepper-y his dad’s hair has become. “I need you to take Kate to the clinic tomorrow morning. Can you do that?”

“Yes, dad,” Gabe answers. He watches his father intently, noting the clenched jaw and the tension in his shoulders. Don’t set him off again. Just be the obedient son he needs you to be right now, Gabe thinks to himself.

“Gracias, mijo,” Dad says. “I know I can count on you.” Dad gives him a squeeze on the shoulder before smiling at him fondly. “Look at you, starting your last year of high school next week,” he breathes a deep sigh. “It only seems like yesterday you were running around in your diapers.”

“Now I’ll be graduating,” Gabe replies, smiling back.

“And then you’ll be enlisting, just like your old man.” His dad beams at him proudly.

Just like your old man. The words echo in his head. Gabe’s mouth goes dry. “Of course.” He swallows hard.

He doesn’t remember exactly when Dad started expecting him to join the army. (Since forever maybe?) But Gabe had always went along with it. Although it always fills his heart to see his dad puff his chest out in pride because of him, the thought of inevitably enlisting also fills his stomach with dread.

“By the way,” Dad starts, interrupting Gabe’s train of thought. “What happened to your face?”

Gabe instinctively touches his bruised cheek. “I ran into a door, that’s all.”

“You should get some ice for that, mijo,” his dad clasps him on the shoulder one last time before turning away. “There’s some soup in the kitchen, too. Don’t stay up too late.”

The kitchen is cold when Gabe steps in. The window is thrown open. The floor is free of glass. A pot sits on the stove. Kate leans on the counter by the window, smoking a cigarette. Her hand is wrapped in gauze, the blood dried to a dark, brownish red.

“There’s some food on the stove,” Kate says before taking another drag of her cigarette.

“Thanks,” Gabe replies as he helps himself to a bowl. “How’s your hand?”

“It’s been better,” Kate mumbles. “Nothing too serious, though. The cut’s not deep and I’ve cleaned it as best as I can.”

“Well,” Gabe begins, “Dad wants me to take you to the clinic tomorrow, so…”

Kate sighs, shrugging. “I guess it wouldn’t hurt to have someone look at it.”

“We can go before your shift starts,” Gabe suggests. “I’ll drop you off at your work, too.”

A small smile forms on her face. “Thank you, Gabe,” Kate says.

“What happened, earlier?” Gabe asks quietly. “If you don’t mind me asking…”

Kate looks so drained, with her slumped shoulders and shining eyes. “It’s nothing, really. I dropped your dad’s army glass, that’s all.”

Gabe frowns. He knows how important that glass is to Dad. Gabe would be upset too if something sentimental to him broke. But Kate also got hurt, you know? Yelling at her, especially when it was an accident, just… left a bad taste in his mouth.

Kate must have seen the look on his face, because she quickly adds, “Don’t worry about it. Your dad and I talked it out. We apologized. We’re good now.”

Gabe nods, a little wary. “If you say so.”

---

  Gabe normally likes to sit window-side and towards the back row. Not the very last row, though, where the teacher's voice drowns out into a low, coma-inducing drone and the heat of the afternoon sun entices sleep. And not the very front row either, where the teacher can watch your every move.

Except today, Gabe slides into a desk at the front row and lets out a nervous breath. Sitting at the front of the classroom naturally makes you more attentive (at least, according to a few internet articles). After all, AP World History may be his last class of the day, but it’s his first Advanced Placement class, ever. Sure, Gabe isn’t a terrible student. But he’s not exactly top-of-the-class material -- just enough to make Dad and Kate happy. And besides, he’d also been in an Honors class before (in freshman year). It can’t be all that different, right?

Gabe watches as students enter the classroom and immediately recognizes most of them as the top-of-the-honor-roll types: those who’ve been taking AP classes since sophomore year (and even freshmen, for some of them), whose sights set high for Ivy League. His stomach sinks a little.

His mouth goes dry and his stomach knots when Clementine enters the classroom. No duh she’d be in this class. Gabe always saw her name on the honor roll, and knows how often she studies, as it was the one activity she was always doing every time he would be at Duck’s house. Plan: Don’t Look (Even More) Like A Moron is officially back in motion. This is going to be a long-ass year, Gabe internally grumbles to himself.

“Hello, class,” Mr. Everett greets as he begins to pass around the course outlines. “Welcome to AP World History. As you know, this class is equivalent to an introductory college course.”

Gabe swallows nervously. Mr. Everett does the roll call before briefly explaining the basics of AP tests and scoring. Gabe follows along, jotting down important information.

“A common theme you’ll notice throughout the course is that no matter the era or the civilization,” Mr. Everett scrawls the next words he says on the chalkboard, “there is always war and conflict.” He underlines the words, further emphasizing them.

“Instead of just talking about the syllabus today,” Mr. Everett turns to the class, dusting his hands of chalk, “I’d like to start off this year with a discussion.”

Mr. Everett returns to the chalkboard and writes in all capitals: IS WAR JUSTIFIABLE?

Every hand in the room shoots up.

Gabe notices that most of the answers his classmates give are a variation of Sometimes. Not that it was wrong or anything -- everyone has a right to their opinion, after all. But Gabe’s sweating as he mentally prepares himself, running through the points he wants to make and recalling the facts he’s learned from the documentaries he watched.

“Gabriel?” Mr. Everett’s voice pierces through the fog of his nervousness.

“Yes,” Gabe stands in his desk and clears his throat. “Right, um. I don’t think war is justified. Ever.”

The classroom immediately breaks into a buzz.

Mr. Everett shushes the class before he turns back to Gabe. “And why do you think that?”

“Because,” Gabe begins, suddenly feeling every eye on him. He inhales a deep breath before saying, “it’s just not right that the people at the top can declare war while everyone else pays the price. While innocent people pay the price.”

“Pretty sure the people who enlisted knew what they were signing up for,” pipes up a classmate. A few stifled giggles erupt behind him.

“That’s not what I meant,” Gabe bites back. He clenches his hands into fists to still them from shaking before he continues, “I meant like, men, women, and children who never asked for war, whose homes were invaded. People who were killed because they were at the wrong place at the wrong time, like Hiroshima and Nagasaki.”

“Well, it was because Japan refused to surrender,” another classmate challenges. “More people would’ve suffered and died if America had invaded Japan instead. Would you rather lose millions of lives or just several thousand?”

“Two hundred thousand,” Gabe corrects, blood pounding in his ears. “War is more than just a numbers game. Sacrifice two hundred thousand people to save more? Okay sure, but two hundred thousand people still died, you know? And most of them were just regular old folks minding their own business when the bombs hit. They didn’t deserve to die. Life is precious but life is irreplaceable too. The lives that were saved because of the bombings aren’t replacements for the lives that were lost.”

“So what,” someone responds, “countries should just do nothing then, like how Britain dealt with Hitler in the late 1930s? Should people just stand by and do nothing while something like the Holocaust happens?”

Gabe goes silent, brows furrowing in thought. When he meets the gaze of his challenger, he’s greeted by their smug, triumphant expression. “No,” Gabe finally admits, grudgingly.

“So then doesn’t that make war justifiable?”

“I’m not saying that countries should do nothing,” Gabe declares, his blood boiling. “But war often comes with war crimes, too. Both the Allies and the Axis raped thousands of women. Both sides bombed each other’s cities -- cities filled with innocent civilians. Cities like Hiroshima and Nagasaki. I think countries should step in and stop things like the Holocaust from ever happening. But even if the cause you’re fighting for is good, raping and killing innocent people isn’t. And that is never justifiable.”

The bell rings, a sudden shrill noise that startles Gabe out of his thoughts.

“All right, I’ll see you all tomorrow then,” Mr. Everett says to the class. “You all have a good day. Gabriel, can I see you for a moment?”

When Gabe is done packing his things, he makes his way to Mr. Everett’s desk. “You wanted to see me, Mr. Everett?”

“Yes,” Mr. Everett says, nodding. “I just wanted to commend you on what you said in our class discussion.”

“Oh,” Gabe responds, scratching the back of his head. “Thanks.”

“Have you ever heard of the principle of ahimsa?” Mr. Everett asks.

Gabe shakes his head.

Mr. Everett raises his eyebrows. “I’m surprised, because a lot of what you said reminds me of that. We’ll actually be touching on it in the course. But anyways, ahimsa is an important principle in Hinduism, Jainism, and Buddhism. It means to not harm. Non-violence. Ahimsa has greatly influenced theories of war and military ethics, and was also central to the independence movement of India.”

“The one with Gandhi, right?” Gabe faintly recalls from previous social studies classes.

Mr. Everett nods. “All forms of resistance against the British Empire were non-violent and it actually worked, as India finally achieved their independence in 1947. In fact, it worked so well that it influenced the Civil Rights Movement right here at home.”

Gabe nods thoughtfully. “Huh, no way.”

“Yeah,” Mr. Everett says. “Well, I also wanted to talk to you about joining our History Bowl team. I really think you’d make a great addition, and I’m not saying that just because I’m the sponsor teacher.”

History Bowl. Gabe had heard of that before -- isn’t that some kind of Jeopardy for history or whatever? Where a bunch of Ivy League types from different schools gather round and flex their knowledge or some shit? Gabe is certainly not Ivy League level, and the idea of being stuck in a whole room of them… ok well, he is in AP World History. But still. Gabe’s about as average as you can get, honestly. And besides, who wants to study for fun? He’s got enough classes to worry about.

Mr. Everett must have read his mind or something, because he says, “I know it’s not as glamorous as the football team, but I really do think you’d be great at it. At least consider?”

“Thanks,” Gabe replies a little sheepishly. “I’ll think about it.”

“Great,” Mr. Everett says, “You have a good day then, Gabriel.”

“You too,” Gabe replies as he leaves the classroom.

---

Gabe spots his uncle sitting on the porch as he approaches his house. A worn box sits next to him. “Hey, Javi. What are you doing here?”

“Hey, buddy,” Javi says. “I was hoping Kate would be here. I’ve got a package to drop off.” He gestures to the box.

“How long have you been waiting?” Gabe asks. “And what’s that?”

“Just ten minutes, no biggie,” Javi replies, grinning, “and these are your abuelo’s cassette tapes.”

“You have his cassette tapes?” Gabe questions.

“Just some of it.” Javi says. “I hear music really helps with memory. Maybe your dad can take them with him when he visits your abuelo.”

Gabe peers into the box. Cassette tapes stack on top of each other, almost spilling over the brim. “Those are… a lot of tapes.” He turns to Javi and quietly asks, “Why don’t you go with my dad?”

Javi looks away, scratching the back of his head. “I love your dad,” he sighs. “He is my brother, after all. We just… don’t see eye-to-eye on a lot of things.” His gaze rests on the box. “Let’s just say your dad doesn’t agree with how I’m… processing all of this.”

“Was that what it was about?” Gabe mumbles, studying his uncle’s face. “You know. Two weeks ago, at Yaya and Pipo’s house?” He recalls the yelling being so loud from he could hear it from the backyard. His abuela crying, pleading with them to stop. A door slam that seemed to shake the walls and the air around them. A loud tire screech. Javi nowhere to be found after. His dad dark-eyed and tense and silent for the rest of the night.

“Sort of, yeah,” Javi answers, quietly.

Gabe decides to change the subject. “So why does Pipo have a lot of cassettes?”

Javi smiles, eyes tinged with fondness and melancholy. “He made a mix for every event,” Javi sigh. “Like, every event. Not even just for milestones and holidays, but for days when it rained, when the sun shined. I think he has a whole tape dedicated to cafecito.” Javi shakes his head, chuckling. “Freaking obsessed.”

“More than dominoes?” Gabe asks, almost astounded.

“More than dominoes,” Javi affirms. “That man really loves music.”

Gabe chuckles, shaking his head. “Well, since Kate’s out, I can let you in and you can put it on the coffee table or something.”

“That’d be great, thanks.”

Gabe unlocks the front door and steps inside. He plops his backpack on the floor of his bedroom and double checks his pockets to ensure his wallet, phone, and keys are still with him before heading back towards the door.

“By the way, I need to pick up Mari from school and drop her off to ballet,” Gabe says to his uncle. “Do you need me to drive you back to your place?”

“No I’m good, my car’s just down the street,” Javi responds. "Actually, is it okay if I tag along? I feel like it’s been ages since I really spent some time with you guys.”

“I hope my dad won’t mind,” Gabe wonders hesitantly.

“I hope not,” Javi says, sighing. “Listen, no matter what’s going on between me and your dad, we’re still family.” Javi then playfully nudges him in the shoulder. “Now come on, I’ll treat you and Mari to McDonalds.”

Gabe grins. “You sure you want to wait out until Mari’s lessons are over, though?”

Javi cocks an eyebrow up. “You’re gonna wait out the whole hour?”

“Hour and a half,” Gabe corrects. “Plus, it’s kind of a waste of gas to keep driving back between home and the studio. Global warming, am I right?”

Javi snorts. “Since when did you care about global warming?”

“I always have,” Gabe shoots back, “but especially since I started noticing gas prices, you know?”

“Of course,” Javi says with a laugh.

When Gabe pulls up in front of Mari’s school, she climbs into the backseat and sets her duffel bag of ballet stuff next to her. “Hey uncle Javi,” Mari greets. Gabe feels her nudge at the back of his seat. “Are we heading to the studio right now?”

“Yup,” Gabe replies.

“But it’s only 3:15, and class starts at 4,” Mari points out, “can’t we wait at a McDonalds or something?”

“Well, Javi is planning to treat us after your lessons anyway,” Gabe responds, “and besides, it’ll be 3:30 by the time we arrive to the studio. You can wait another thirty minutes. Go practice or something.”

“Oh, I see what this is about,” Mari drawls, glaring at him through the rearview mirror before smirking. “You’re just eager to see Clementine, is that right?”

Gabe nearly swerves the car. “What?!” He sputters.

“Who’s Clementine?” Javi asks excitedly.

“No one,” Gabe interjects hastily.

Mari simultaneously answers, “His girlfriend.”

“I don’t have a girlfriend!” Gabe yells, knuckles white as he grips the steering wheel hard.

“She’s the teaching assistant for my class,” Mari says matter-of-factly, completely ignoring Gabe, “She’s really pretty, and she also goes to Gabe’s school. I think she’s also Duck’s sister?”

“Aww,” Javi sings, grinning.

“She’s not my girlfriend!” Gabe yelps indignantly, cheeks flushing.

“Uh-huh,” Mari sarcastically mutters.

“Mari,” Gabe hisses, glaring fiercely when they make eye contact through the rearview mirror.

“All right, all right,” Mari grumbles. “I’m sorry, Gabe.”

“Thank you,” Gabe huffs, annoyed. He relaxes his grip on the wheel.

“Clementine is amazing at ballet, though,” Mari says with wonder, “I want to be just as a good of a dancer as she is one day.”

“I believe in you, Mari,” Javi replies, “You can achieve anything you set your mind to.”

“Thanks, Javi,” Mari says, smiling. “Maybe it’s not a bad idea to get some extra practice in,” she admits.

“Told you,” Gabe remarks, and spots Mari rolling her eyes at him through the mirror.

Predictably, Gabe doesn’t see Mari exit the studio when the lesson finishes. Gabe pushes the doors open (and steps through them quickly before they can crash into his head again).

“Clem, you should come with us,” he hears Mari practically beg, “My uncle, Gabe, and I are going to McDonalds. It’ll be really fun.”

Gabe freezes in his tracks. She’s doing this on purpose, isn’t she? She’s totally shitting him right now. Seriously, Mari? Wow.

“Gabe!” Mari calls out to him. She’s beaming brightly and sporting puppy dog eyes. He knows that look and sighs internally. Okay, so she’s definitely not trying to mess with him. Somehow, that makes it worse. “Can Clementine come with us? Pleeeease?”

“Um,” Gabe mumbles, scratching the back of his head. He desperately tries to force down the blush that begins to rise in his face.

Okay. So. It’s not like he wants to say no because honestly? That’s a little dickish. But Plan: Don’t Look Like A Moron failed spectacularly last time and Gabe definitely does not want to risk embarrassing himself in front of her again. He’s not sure if he can survive it.

Before Gabe can reply, Javi calls from behind him, “Of course, of course. The more the merrier.”

“I do have an hour to kill before my shift starts,” Clementine says, shrugging.

Mari beams. “Great! I’ll grab my stuff.”

“You, uh, work with the Gordons, right?” Gabe finally manages to unswallow his tongue and speak. “I can drop you off at the diner before your shift.”

“If it’s any trouble-” Clementine starts.

“It’s not,” Gabe replies sheepishly. “Really, it isn’t. It’s on the way home, anyway.”

Clementine nods gratefully and smiles. “Thanks, Gabe.” Gabe’s heart immediately accelerates. “I’m just gonna pack up and change.”

Gabe nods, his eyes unconsciously following her as she exits the studio. Did she really just smile at him? Was that real? He didn’t imagine it, right? Holy shit.

“What happened to ‘global warming?’” he hears Javi ask slyly. Gabe doesn’t turn, fearing his face is bright red.

“I’m just being nice,” Gabe asserts defensively.

“If you say so,” Javi casually replies.

---

“Please,” Javi begins, “I insist, Clementine. You’re our guest.” The four of them are standing in front of the counter. Gabe hears an exasperated sigh behind him -- another impatient customer, probably. They’ve been holding the line up for only a minute or so. Jeez.

Gabe watches as Clementine hesitantly puts her wallet back into her pocket. “You’re too kind, thank you.”

“No worries,” Javi says before addressing Gabe. “Gabe, why don’t you and Clementine find us a booth? Mari and I will wait for our order.” His uncle’s eyes glint playfully.

“Uh yeah, sure,” Gabe replies. He contemplates maybe killing his uncle as he and Clementine sit down at an empty booth.

“By the way,” Clementine begins, “Good job in the class discussion today.”

Gabe’s eyes widen in surprise. “Oh. Thanks.”

“What made you join AP World History, by the way?” Clementine asks, brows furrowing in curiosity. “Not that I’m saying you’re not smart or anything, but I didn’t think you… well, it’s just that I haven’t seen you in the other AP classes before-”

“I’m not exactly the AP student type, I know,” Gabe admits, nervously laughing.

Clementine chuckles with him. “I’m sorry, I just wanted to ask.”

“It’s okay,” Gabe replies. “I, um, kind of switched into that class last minute, I guess? It was sort of a spur of the moment.”

“Really?” Clementine cocks her head sideway in curiosity.

“Yeah,” Gabe responds. “Well, um, I’ve always liked social studies, and I also watched a lot of history documentaries over the summer. Made me realize how much I liked learning history. So I figured, why not?” He scratches the back of his head absentmindedly as he shrugs. “How about you?”

“I really like history, too,” Clementine replies. “I want to do a minor in History when I go to college, and you know, the AP class would be great for the transfer credits.”

“What are you planning to major in?” Gabe asks.

“Dance,” Clementine answers. “Hopefully at the University of Georgia. They have a pretty good ballet program.”

“That’s great,” Gabe says. “You’ve, uh, been doing ballet for a long time, right?”

“Yeah,” Clementine says, “Since I was 7 or 8. I really love it. But how about you? What are your plans after high school?”

Gabe’s eyebrows rise. He’s caught off guard. “I…” He trails off, lost in thought. What the hell is he supposed to say? “I’m still figuring it out, to be honest,” Gabe finally answers.

“No worries,” Clementine responds. “But if you plan on going to college, you should join the History Bowl team. It’s a great opportunity and looks really good on college applications.”

“Mr. Everett talked to me about that earlier today,” Gabe notes.

“He is the sponsor teacher,” Clementine says. “And this year, I’ve been made captain of the team. We need more members -- one more at least. It’s just me and Sarah now, since Arvo graduated last year.”

“Arvo?” Gabe recalls the familiar name. “You mean that really smart Russian kid? Didn’t he graduate early?”

“Yup,” Clementine sighs loudly. “He also got accepted into MIT’s engineering program.”

“Wow,” Gabe says in awe. “That’s… pretty impressive.”

“It becomes less amazing the more you hear about it,” Clementine drawls. “Arvo never failed to remind me every single week.” Gabe notes the way she rolls her eyes with deliberate annoyance.

“Duck told me he was kind of a dick,” Gabe replies.

“Oh, he definitely was,” Clementine says with a hint of a grin. “Big brain, bigger ego. But because of him, we did get pretty far last year. And this year, I really want to win the National Championships. So,” Clementine pauses, exhaling a deep breath, “I’m asking you to join the team.” “Me?” Gabe asks incredulously. “I’m no Arvo, though.” He looks down at the table.

“I’m not asking you to be Arvo,” Clementine replies. “Besides, it’s clear from the discussion today that you’re passionate about history, and you seem to know a lot about it. Give yourself some credit. We’d be lucky to have someone like you on the team.”

Gabe’s heart skips a beat. “I, um…” He trails off, attempting to fight the heat beginning to rise in his face. “Can I think about it, at least?”

“Of course,” Clementine says. “Well, tomorrow is Club Day, and I’ll have a table set up in the atrium during lunch. Come talk to me when you’ve made your decision.”

“Sounds good,” Gabe responds.

“If it helps,” Clementine starts, “the grand prize for the Nationals is a scholarship. Divided among the teammates, of course.”

“Really?” Gabe asks with a piqued interest.

“Yeah,” Clementine says, “it’s a pretty decent amount. But I think you have to use it within a year before it expires.”

Gabe hums and nods thoughtfully. “I’ll let you know tomorrow?” He asks.

“Sure thing,” Clementine replies.

---

Gabe is in the living room watching TV when he hears the keys turn and the front door unlock. His dad steps through. Gabe quickly checks the time on his phone. It’s nearly 10:00 PM.

“Hi dad,” Gabe greets him. “Long day at work?”

His dad nods. The exhaustion is apparent on his face. “Yes, mijo. Have you eaten dinner yet?”

“Yeah,” Gabe answers. “Kate put the food in the fridge, by the way.”

Dad suddenly pauses. “What’s this?” he asks, pointing to the box on the coffee table.

“Javi came by earlier today,” Gabe tells him. “He dropped off a box of Pipo’s tapes.”

His dad frowns slightly, brows furrowing as he chews on his cheek. “Okay,” his dad comments quietly. “Anyways. Come sit with me,” he invites him. Gabe nods, and follows his dad into the kitchen.

“How was your first day of classes?” His dad asks as he opens the fridge.

“It was good,” Gabe replies as he reaches into the cupboard to grab a plate for his dad. “We just got our lockers and course outlines, that’s all. Real lessons start tomorrow.” He sets the plate on the dining table. “But we did have a class discussion in AP World History today.”

“An AP class?” His dad notes. “You know, it doesn’t really matter what kind of grades you get. As long as you have a high school diploma, the military will accept you just fine.” He shrugs dismissively.

“I just wanted to take it this year,” Gabe asserts quietly.

“Okay,” Dad responds. “What did you talk about in class?”

“Whether war is justifiable or not,” Gabe answers. “A lot of the class said it was justifiable sometimes.”

“But what did you say?” His dad asks.

Gabe immediately regrets bringing up AP World History. “I said it wasn’t justifiable,” Gabe murmurs. He studies his dad’s face, trying to decipher the unreadable expression he now wears. “Why?” Dad says with an eyebrow raised. “Sometimes we have to fight back when bad guys threaten the rights and lives of other people.”

“I guess,” Gabe says uncertainly. “I was talking more along the lines of, um, war crimes. Like murdering and raping innocent people. Stuff like that.”

“That doesn’t really happen anymore, mijo,” his dad says pointedly. “There are international laws that stop that from happening now, don’t you know that?” His dad lets out a harsh sigh before taking a bite of his food. Gabe winces slightly.

“I know. I just, I don’t know,” Gabe mumbles, shifting his gaze down. “I was just offering another view. That’s all.” He half-lies.

His dad only nods and continues to pick at his food. Gabe takes his leave and heads to his room.

He shuts the door behind him quietly and sits on his bed, lost in thought. Gabe had been on fire earlier today, adrenaline pumping and blood boiling and thinking on his feet. He had a lot to say in class, but all the points he wanted to repeat to his dad seemed to just… evaporated from his head or something.

I’m just tired, Gabe justifies to himself. And Dad’s tired too. A debate is the last thing he needs.

Though, Gabe really did enjoy the class discussion today. He normally hates debates -- Gabe usually never knows enough to effectively participate, and he hates how tongue-tied he  can get. Except today, Gabe actually did know enough, for once. There was something incredibly satisfying about being able to prove your points with cold, hard facts. Like a perfect one-two punch. And damn, did it feel good.

Maybe joining the History Bowl team isn’t a terrible idea. Sure, it’s not quite the same as debating morals and whatever like they did in class today. But Gabe has always found his history and social studies classes so much more interesting than his science classes. He liked learning about importants events that happened, and how and why they still affect people today. It always intrigued him.

And besides, Clementine did mention the scholarship grand prize. If they win Nationals, then he’d have no choice but to attend college. Dad would understand. He would see. Surely.

But I’m nothing like Arvo, Gabe admits to himself internally. Winning Nationals sure as hell isn’t a guarantee. It’s a slim chance, especially with the likes of someone like himself. Someone like me, Gabe thinks. He is… painfully average.

But, he has to try, right? Taking a chance can’t hurt. It’s not like it’s totally hopeless -- Clementine mentioned Sarah was on the team too. And they’re both really smart. He’s not on their level, sure, but Gabe can compensate with a lot of work and effort. Winning Nationals is definitely possible, he decides.

Dad will understand. Dad will see.

---

Gabe pushes through the crowd of students, his mood slightly souring with every shove of a shoulder. Just when he’s had enough and considers charging through the swarm like a bull on the loose, Gabe stumbles into empty space.

He spots a simple poster (HISTORY BOWL CLUB, it reads) hanging down the front of the table. Clementine and Sarah sit behind, chatting.

“Hey,” Gabe calls out breathlessly, giving a small wave to Clementine. She waves back. He approaches their table.

“Woah there, you’re gonna have to wait in line,” Clementine says sarcastically, gesturing to the considerable lack of students around them.

A grin plays on his lips. “Hilarious,” Gabe replies with equal sarcasm.

Clementine chuckles before asking, “So, what’s the verdict?”

Gabe meets her gaze and nods. “I’m in.”

[misc-oneshots]

Facing the future

Part one- Just one look Part two - Learning to trust Part three - Living with the bond Part Four - A new wolf Part Five - This is part five Part Six - The promise Embry Call x Reader Words: 3,299 

GIF not mine but the readers big bro and wolf together <3 No idea what happened to the format but I think I fixed it.

“It’s all my fault.” Leah whimpered. Cade sat against the wall with her and pulled her into his arms, “No, no baby, I should have got to you. This is my fault.”“Shut up.” Sam boomed making you jump further into Embry’s chest as you curled up in his lap on Billy Black’s sofa. Embry kissed your forehead before resting his head on yours and running his warm hands up and down your back reassuringly. 

Sam continued, “You can’t start to think like that, I know it’s hard because you’re imprinted to each other but this wasn’t any one person’s fault. We live as a pack, we fight as a pack. We look out for one another, Jake got hurt helping a member of his pack, it’s what we do.”A chorus of mumbled and hoarse agreement came from the boys, all of whom were scattered around the front room of the Black household. Leah buried her head in her knees as not to let them see the tears swelling in her eyes from receiving the acceptance that she had always sought from her clawed family.

Everyone fell into silence as you waited for news from Carlisle of Jacob’s condition, you snuggled into Embry’s chest, listening to the steady drum of his heart. It could have easily been the other way around with Embry hurt and Jacob carrying him back to the reservation.  This wasn’t supposed to happen, no one on your side was supposed to be hurt.You felt numb, you barely registered that Carlisle consulting Billy and Sam, nor did you hear the Alpha order for the pack to go home and rest.  But you felt Embry hook his arms under you and carry you out to the truck, he took you back to his house and curled up with you in bed, thankful that his mum was away for the weekend. You sighed as he pulled the thin blanket up over you; you never needed much to keep you warm when lying next to your radiator-boyfriend. 

“That could have been you.” You whispered into the darkness on the room and gently cupped his cheek with you hand. He moved his head to press a kiss to the inside of your palm, “Don’t think like that please, Y/N.” From what the pack had told you they had enhanced vision even at night, so you squeezed your eyes tight so he didn’t see the tears swelling, “I can’t help it, I can’t lose you Embry.” He shushed you, took your face in his large hands and kissed where your tears had spilled free, “You never have to worry about that. Do you understand me?” He brushed his lips over yours and, not trusting your voice, you simply nodded.

---

“Is this a good idea?” You asked smoothing down your dress, the one that Embry liked to paw at when he saw you in it. Embry shook his head as buttoned up his shirt, “Of course not, it’s an awful idea, but its better if we’re there if Jake loses it.” You checked that your hair was styled as you wanted it and sighed, the last place you wanted to spend your whole night was with the Cullen’s at Bella and Edward’s engagement party, especially since Bella had told Jacob that she had chosen Edward. “I still don’t like her.” You pouted.

Embry shook his head at you and grinned, “Okay street fighter, just remember that we both promised Sam to behave so no starting any fights.” “Well, if she starts anything, I’m going to finish it.” You promised. He clicked his tongue in amusement and stepped over to you and put his hands on your waist, he kissed the tip of your nose, “I don’t doubt it. You look beautiful by the way.” He held his hand up so that you could spin around, giggling, “All for you handsome.” “How’d I get so lucky?” He grinned and leaned down to kiss you. “It’s probably something to do with those cute dimples.” You teased, smiling against his lips.

He tucked some hair behind your ear before whispering into it, “If Leah is to be believed, it’s because you like my bum.”Then he laughed and blew a raspberry against your reddening check before bolting down the stairs laughing. You covered your red face with your hands and shouted, “Leah!” 

Laughter erupted downstairs.

---

Pretentious was the words that sprung to mind when you got to the Cullen’s party. Embry’s arm found your waist and pulled your to his side so he could kiss the side of your head. You glanced around at the pack, “Are you all okay?” Quil’s face was scrunched in discomfort as he answered, “It reeks of leech in here.”

Cade appeared with his arm around Leah, who looked stupid happily for the first time in a long time, “The rest of the party guests masks it a bit, but it’s still there.”

“Luckily I have you.” Embry mumbled to you before pushing his nose into your hair and inhaling. “I’m not a scented candle.” You pushed his chest playfully. “I can deal with the smell.” Paul announced happily, “There are other things to focus on.” He gave you an exaggerated wink before making his way over to a group of pretty girls. Jared clicked his tongue, “He might be my best friend but honestly that boy only ever follows his di-”

“Woah lets it PG-13!” A booming voice interrupted and the pack turned to see Emmett and Rosalie. The pack acknowledged them but then dispersed quickly, leaving the vampire couple and you and Embry. 

  “How’s Jacob recovering?” Emmett asked. “Okay, he’s around her somewhere.” Embry answered tightly. “Clinging to Bella somewhere I’m sure.” Rosalie said and you nodded in agreement.

Your boyfriend cleared his throat, “Look, er, I just wanted to say sorry for last time. I would never usually let myself get worked up like that, especially not surrounded by all those people but I thought my imprint was in trouble.. well I’m sure you understand. And thank you, for making sure that she got home safe and looking after her when I couldn’t.”

Emmett just offered him a big grin, “Don’t worry about it, dog breath. I mean you saved Alice out there in the battle, call us equal. But just so you know, I only let it look like you were winning so that you could impress your imprint.” Cue the collective eye roll of you, Embry and Rosalie.  You parted and enjoyed the party with your boyfriend, who it seemed could drink as much as he wanted and it didn’t seem to touch him. Stupid wolf metabolism. You were enjoying a dance with Embry when he stopped dead and looked off into the woods. He cursed and shook his head, “I’ve got to go help the guys with Jacob.” He looked around awkwardly, he didn’t want to leave you, knowing that you’d drank more than usual and the alcohol was effecting you.

“I’ll go find Carlisle or Esme.” You promised him, the older vampires always seemed more favourable to the pack. “Stay out of trouble, okay beautiful?” He waited until you nodded before kissing your forehead and running off. You stayed for a moment watching where he’d left when Rosalie found you and together you watched as the pack dragged Jacob out of the woods with Bella trailing behind. You finished your drink in one long swig and passed Rosalie your empty glass, who surprisingly took it from you with no fuss. “Y/N,” The blonde caught your attention before nodding towards Bella, “Give her hell.” You gave her a drunken grin, you intended too. 

---

ake and his escorts were way out of view by the time you reached Bella. She spotted you and narrowed her eyes and you matched her glare, “What are you doing here?”

“I came with the pack.” You responded, “What have you said to Jake? You need to stop messing with him, you’ve already chosen Edward.” As you approached her eyes rapidly glanced around behind you, no doubt looking for a Vampire shield like the last time you’d seen her. She crossed her arms and raised her nose in the air, “I didn’t choose Edward, fate chose us for each other. You wouldn’t understand, the imprint doesn’t compare.”

Anger flared up from your belly and heat rushed into your cheeks, spewed from your mouth, “How dare you?!” 

“How dare I?” She snipped, “You weren’t even invited tonight. Me and Edward are getting married and we’ll still be married long after you’ve turned to dust. Our bond means that he’ll turn me and we’ll be together forever. The imprint means that you’re going to be stuck here in this depressing little town forever, never able to leave because of Embry. Good luck with life.” 

Her words sucker punched you and for a moment you gaped at her. It was like the wind had been knocked from you, you supposed because a part of you recognised the lace of truth in her words and it scared you. 

What happened to your plans for life now that you had the imprint to work around?

“Y/N?”

Embry calling your name brought the wind back in your lungs and you turned to the tree line to face Paul, Leah and your boyfriend. Embry held his hand out to you, “Come on beautiful, she’s not worth it.” Taking in a shaky, drunken breath you stepped away from Bella and towards Embry’s out stretched hand. Of course, Bella demanded the last word, “That’s right, leave. Go to your mongrel boyfriend.” You spun, swung your arm back and punched her straight in the nose.  Bella yowled, her hands flew to her face and she crumpled to the floor whining. “Talk about my wolf again bitch and I’ll rearrange your face.” You snapped in alcohol fuelled fury.

You stormed away from her pathetic whimpering towards your friends. Embry moved to take your hand but you dodged him and looped your arm with Paul so you could lean on him as you walked. Embry let his hand fall and swallowed hard, both of you knew that Bella’s venomous words had wound into your consciousness.

---

Everyone could see that something wasn’t right between you and Embry since the party and the pack were worried. When Sam had finally accepted his life as a wolf and alpha, he knew that he’d also have to deal with teenage drama that he thought he’d gotten to leave behind. He never expected his teenage charges to imprint so young, so he didn’t have a plan for when an imprint wanted to move away to college. “It’s been her plan as long as I can remember.” Jacob mumbled, his words were wiped away by the sea wind. Paul lay flat on his back on the beach, “She used to tell me that she’d threaten college boys with her big brother and that I’d have to go up to beat them up.” Sam scowled, “That might be but separating you and your imprint will hurt you both. She has to stay.”Embry let out a wistful sigh, “Well everyone thanks for being no help at all.” He stood and stomped off down the beach. Sam groaned and rubbed his face with his large hand, “One of you has to talk to her.” Jacob ran his hand through his hair and shot Paul a look, “I’ll take him, you take Y/N.”

Paul lifted his legs before jumping to stand from being laid down, “Big brother to the rescue again.”

---

“Paul I told you I’m not in the mood.” You snapped at him. Ignoring you, as he always did, Paul took your phone and book from your hand, placed them on your desk and picked you up by the waist before dropping you both down on your bed. He perched you on his knee like he was Santa and you were and eager child, you glared at his cheeky smile. “Now, tell big bro what bothering you.” He patted your knee as he asked you. You narrowed your eyes at him and pinched the back of his hand making him yelp, “I feel the need to point out, yet again, that you’re not really my brother.”

He held his hand over his heart and dramatically whined, “That hurt. Now come on, we all know that you’ve not been right since you KO’d that fang banger.”

You sighed and fell back so you were against his chest, he wrapped his arms around you, his favourite ‘big brother cuddle mode’. “What are me and Embry going to do? I’ve already started to look for colleges and I love him but does that mean that I give up on my future career? I know that I’ll have to make sacrifices for the pack and Embry will always have a job at the garage but you know that I’ve always wanted to go into further education.” You sighed again as he rubbed your back, “I know now that I’m always going to come back to Forks and La Push for Embry and whatever life we can have together. I do whatever the pack asks me to, when they ask me too, can’t I at least have the career that I want?”

Paul sighed and held you closer to him, he kissed the top of your head and mumbled, “Okay, so my plan was to come in here and convince you to give up this kind of thing for the sake of the pack but you’re not a wolf and you’re not stuck like we are. I don’t know what to say Y/N but you need to talk to Embry, avoiding each other won’t help.” “You’re right.” You said. You didn’t need to look at him to know that he was grinning, “Aren’t I always? I miss the days when you just had a crush on Jacob. That was when things were simple.” “It was more simple back then,” you agreed, “But I don’t miss it, not when I have something real with Embry.”

---

It was that night that Embry appeared in your bedroom doorway, he lent against the frame with his hands behind his back, “Can I come in? We need to talk.” Your stomach dropped but you tried to give him a grin, “I thought that we were pretending that nothing was wrong?” Embry offered a humorous chuckle and shook his head, his hair moving, “Yeah, that’s not working so much for me and don’t forget, I get vibes about how you feel.” You swallowed hard and moved things from your bed so that he could come and join you sat on it. He pulled a full plastic bag from behind his back and laid it on your bed before sitting across you and taking your hands in his warm ones.

He ran his thumb across the back your hand, “I know that you had your future all plans before I came in like a wrecking ball,” You went to interrupt him but he stopped you, “Let me finish, please. Every time you’ve told me about your plans I’m been so proud of you but also super scared because I didn’t want to face that you could one day leave me. I still don’t want too.”

He let go of your hands before picking up the plastic bag and pulling out a bunch of paperwork before continuing, “Okay so, I know that this isn’t a solid solution but I thought maybe this could be a jump off point for us finding something that works for us. I did some research and all of these are close to the packs territory, you know, just in case Sam orders me to stay here with the pack.”

He passed you the paperwork and tentatively you took them from him before turning them over. 

College prospectus. 

About ten of them in all. Your hand flew to your mouth and you felt tears spring in your eyes. Embry panicked, “No no, please baby. I’m so sorry, I didn’t mean to upset you, I’m sorry.” You shook your head, “No Embry, no, you didn’t upset me. This, all the planning and thought you put in to this means so much to me.”

Putting the brochures to one side was the one warning that Embry had before you launched yourself at him, you lips pushing against his as you landed in his lap. He kissed you back earnestly, grinning against your lips as he did. And that’s how you spent the next few hours, locked in loving embrace and smiling about your time today and eventually planning for your future.

----

The pack didn’t see you for a few days. “Well you guys look a look happier.” Quil quipped when you resurfaced; he was sat on Emily and Sam’s front porch. “What gave it away?” Embry called up to them as he carried you bridal style up to the house. You squealed playfully and kicked your legs as he jogged towards the house. Leah grinned and elbowed Cade, “Now I don’t have to beat him up.” “Again.” Seth added and the pack laughed. Embry leaned down to whisper to you, “Between us, I’d rather face the newborns again than her pissed off.” “That’s my girl.” Cade grinned and wrapped his arm around Leah’s waist making the pack laugh again. 

Embry didn’t put you down as he chose a seat and dropped himself down into it with you still in his arms. “We have a plan.” You announced happily. “Let’s hear it.” Sam grumbled. Embry started, “We may have found a solution.” You continued, “So, Embry found all these colleges not too far out of the packs territories. I found one that I like.” “Not only does it have incredible reviews but the course that Y/N wants to do offers a special program where there could only be a couple of classes a week actually at the college and the rest of the time she’ll be with a partnering company doing the actual job.”

“We’ve already checked and there’s company in Port Angeles partnered with the college.”

“So theoretically, Y/N could stay in La Push with me – I mean us, and just commute to the classes.” “And Embry won’t have to leave the pack. I’ve applied and I’ve just got to wait and see if they’ll take me.” You summarised and in the pause you took for breath Embry gave you a quick soft kiss.

The look of relief from the pack was evident and Sam came over to clap Embry on the shoulder in a moment of pride. Embry gave him a grin and you smiled at the exchange. You knew that they avoided the subject of their heritage, that they could share a father as well as a pack. “Ugh look at them, full of love.” Paul groaned. “It’s disgusting.” Jared agreed and Kim rewarded him with an elbow to the ribs.Surrounded by the laughter and love of the pack, your family, the stress of the last few days washed away but, as usual, something had to ruin it. Sam stood and the pack followed his gaze to where Jacob paced in wolf form. “What’s the matter with him?” You asked. Seth mumbled, “I think I know, we got an invitation to Bella’s wedding this morning.”The pack hushed and you winced, “Poor Jake.”                          

Embry kissed you’re the side of your head, happier than ever to have you in his life, especially knowing that Jacob was about to cause some major drama in his life.

 Hope you guys liked it <3

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[beks21]

Red

Continuation of “Couch” - a tiny Jily AU with lots of adorable awkwardness

I cannot thank @elanev91​ enough for her wise advice on this fic, which was mainly “write something else and don’t cut this!” because she was right.

Read on FF.net

Prompt: Red

The sun always seems to shine the brightest on the days Lily has to work. Usually she doesn’t mind, but this week is move-in week for the freshman, which means that she is surrounded by dozens of wide-eyed new students, intense, overbearing parents, and a group of upperclassmen wearing bright yellow shirts with “I’m here to help!” written across the chest.

By noon, everyone is sweaty and overheated, and Lily has had it up to HERE with freshman whining about the heat and the stairs and the size of their closet, and mothers frantically giving directions and advice and lamenting the stains on the mattress, and the moving team rushing around corners without looking; there have been three head-on collisions already, and Lily’s elbows, toes, and heels are bruised from yet another student not paying attention. Thankfully, twelve o’clock means that freshmen and parents depart for lunch, the moving team’s shift has ended, and Lily can retreat to the quiet of her room for a merciful 30 minutes.

Finally alone, Lily peels off her sweaty t-shirt and collapses onto her bed. She flings an arm over her eyes and takes a deep breath, enjoying the air conditioning and silence. This is her second year supervising the move-in week of her dorm, and maybe it’s the heat or maybe it’s the fact that Marlene got an apartment off-campus and won’t be arriving until the weekend, but today feels like it has lasted a week, and it’s only half over. Lily sighs again and forces herself to get up and get some lunch. The cafeteria is sure to be overrun by freshmen and family; however, Lily has planned ahead. She keeps a stash of protein bars in a drawer for occasions like today.

She unwraps her protein bar and moves to open her window, hoping for a breeze. There are perks to being a Hall Coordinator, and having her own room on the second floor, with a view of the Quad below, is definitely one of them. The sights from her window are usually beautiful, especially during the fall when the leaves change colors…. or especially today when there are gorgeous upperclassmen moving a massive red couch.

Lily’s eyes follow the progress of the couch, or rather, of the tall, dark-haired bloke in glasses who is holding one end of the couch. He is laughing at his mate at the other end, and even from behind her window Lily can tell that his laugh, his whole being, is loud and confident. The couch is set down abruptly, and Lily briefly wonders why, and then she sees and her jaw drops a little. Both boys have paused to strip off their t-shirts, and Lily does not think the protein bar is to blame for how dry her mouth suddenly feels.

These couch boys must be a part of the uni’s crew team, because Lily only ever sees shoulders like that on the water. Not that she looks, or looks often, rather, but after two years at a uni known for its highly ranked crew team, one learns what to look for when it comes to….star athletes.

Lily takes another moment to appreciate the moving capabilities of the boys and then turns back to her room. She checks the clock and notes that she has just enough time to refill her water bottle before heading downstairs to meet the next group of freshmen. Whipping a clean t-shirt on, Lily grabs her keys and takes a deep breath, pasting a smile onto her face as she heads out to meet the next group of freshmen.

Outside, Lily curses herself for not grabbing her sunglasses. She squints at her watch, wondering if she has enough time to run back to her roo- SMACK. Lily is knocked onto her bum, her legs shooting out in front of her.

“Oh my god, I’m so sorry, are you alright? I was walking backwards and didn’t see you, my god, I’m so sorry, please say something, are you okay?” As Lily opens her eyes, blinking in the bright sunlight, a mass of dark, messy hair comes into focus. It’s the couch mover, the cute one with glasses, and he’s still rambling at her, his hands flitting awkwardly, anxiously around her shoulder and head. “Did you hit your head? What’s your name? Do you know what today is? How many fingers am I holding up?”

Lily sighs, rolls her neck, “If you ever hold your hands still, I could tell you.”

The hands stop moving and one lands on her shoulder. “Oh, yeah, you’re right, sorry. How about now?” Behind the two fingers held up like a peace sign, Lily sees a sheepish grin. A very attractive sheepish grin, she finds she is well enough to notice.

“Two fingers. My name is Lily Evans, I’m 21 years old, today is Monday, August 23rd, and there are about 75 freshman students who are anxiously waiting for me in the parking lot, so,” she trails off, and instantly there are hands extended in front of her. She takes them, linking her fingers easily with his, and is pulled to her feet.

For the first time, she gets a good look at her remorseful assailant. He is tall and his hair is even messier up close. Bright hazel eyes twinkle at her behind his glasses, and his torso indicates that he did not give up crew practice over the summer...Lily quickly moves her eyes back to his face, hoping he didn’t notice her appreciative gaze.

The boy grins at her and sticks out a hand again. “James Potter. I’m sure we would have run into each other eventually-” Lily laughs, taking his hand again, “-but you wanted to literally knock me off my feet when we met, huh.”

James flushes a bit and ducks his head, but his smile doesn’t falter and he doesn’t let go of her hand. “I mean, it wasn’t my exact plan, but I can work with that, yeah.” His other hand goes to his hair, almost shyly, “I want to say again that I’m so sorry, that someone, ahem, Sirius-” here he glares towards the other end of the couch where his friend is sitting on the couch, a smug expression on his face, watching James and Lily like they are his favorite show “-should have been watching so I didn’t trample any cute girls…”

Sirius snorts. “I was watching, and you’ll thank me later and you know it.” He looks at Lily and winks. “You both will thank me later, I’m sure, if you’re already to the holding hands stage.”

With a start, Lily drops James’ hand; while she is embarrassed that Sirius called it out, she is surprised at how empty her hand feels already. James flushes and uses the hand Lily just dropped to flip the birdy over his shoulder at Sirius, who laughs loudly. James heaves a sigh, managing to look both embarrassed and cocky at the same time. “Please ignore him.”

Lily is also blushing, but she manages to hold his gaze. “Well, maybe you’ll just have to invite me over to sit on this couch sometime, instead of running me over with it.”

James’ smile is so wide it almost splits his face. “Yeah, I think I should. It’s the least I can do, right?”

Lily grins back. “Right. Well, it was nice running into you-” James smirks, and Lily’s stomach drops a bit “-but I have to go help some more freshmen move in, so...”

She begins to walk away, forcing herself to watch where she’s going, and James messes his hair again as she walks past him. She looks back over her shoulder at him, getting one last glance at his ridiculously fit body and that outrageously bright red furniture, “Hopefully they don’t have any couches.”

[recentanimenews]

SSSS.Dynazenon – 11 – Neon Genesis Ordinarion

The Eugenicists wake up lying in a parking lot, and immediately realize they’ve lost once again to Gauma and his human comrades. Only this time, their loss apparently means something: there will be no more kaiju in this world, which means they’ve lost to him for good. Mujina, Juuga and Onija all go off in separate directions to sulk, but only Shizumu stays put, looking the least defeated and very much like someone who knows something the other three don’t.

Meanwhile, with the final battle against the Eugenicists won, Koyomi starts to draw upon the change he gained since becoming a Dyna-Pilot, by crafting his resume and dusting off his old suit. Chise can only stand there with potato chip crumbs on her face in quiet recognition that Koyomi was going to abandon his NEEThood eventually. And in the most telling sign that we’re entering a new normal, Gauma seems to be suffering from a chronic wasting disease, complete with purple marks on his skin.

Free of much of her grief and uncertainty, Yume apologizes to Kano’s ex, surprising Mei, while also playfully refusing to let Mei submit a photo of her for a competition. Chise follows Koyomi’s lead and dons her sailor fuku, hoping to return to school with Goldburn flying overhead watching her. Only Gridknight and Second show depart with Goldburn, as kaiju like them don’t belong in the normal world.

Chise knew this would happen, but still doesn’t get why, and she and Goldburn flee. Juuga seeks out Gauma, apparently to intentionally receive a beating, commenting on how little Gauma’s blows hurt. Yume and Yomogi learn that Gauma’s “Princess” took her life after he died, Romeo & Juliet style, but only he was revived. Then Gauma collects their Dynazenon toys.

Koyomi already gave him his and went straight to a photo booth for some somewhat professional-looking headshots. Mujina stops by to tell him she despises him…but does she really mean it?

While looking at an article about 5,000-year-old mirror that “went missing”, Yume leans close enough to Yomogi’s phone to make him blush, then asks him if he’ll come with her “somewhere” tomorrow. That somewhere ends up being Kano’s grave, which she’s never visited before but feels it’s time to visit now. Like Koyomi, she’s taking steps forward.

In a way, Yomogi does the same when he doesn’t budge on blowing off dinner with his mom and her fiance—with an assist from his gran. Mom can be as cross as she likes with him, but she should be happy he has a genuine connection with someone that’s become far more meaningful than his other school friends considering all they’ve been through together and done for each other.

What ensues is a grave visit that feels like a date. It’s jubilant rather than morose in the way a lively wake can often be. She’s there to visit, tidy up, and pray to her family and sister’s grave, but she’s also there to bury the Yume she became after Kano’s death. Part of that is embracing Yomogi as a friend and kindred spirit, as she learns he has it as “tough” as she in the parental department—maybe worse.

That night, while walking home, Yume mentions how no more kaiju and no more Dynazenon or uniting goal means everyone might drift apart into their own stuff. As she so eloquently puts it, “We fought kaiju and stuff, but it was the closest to normal my life’s ever been.” Of course, she’s not talking about the kaiju-robot battles, but all of the things that happened in between that brought everyone closer together and changed them all for the better.

Yomogi stops, looks slightly downward then directly at Yume, and firmly assures Yomogi that kaiju or no, Dynazenon or no, he still wants to see her. Then he says he likes her and asks her to go out with him, which is, I believe, a reasonable request. Yume seems poised to answer him immediately, and while I was bracing for a “no”, instead the moment is interrupted by Shizumu.

Predictably with two episodes left, the fight isn’t over, and Shizumu hasn’t lost for good either. The thanks both Yume and Yomogi for all of the emotions they gave off in the times they were together, particularly now. He’s thanking them for this because, as we see, there’s a kaiju inside him, which he’s been saving as a last resort in case Gauma and Dynazenon got the better of him and the others.

He has no qualms about rushing Yomogi with the intent to harm and even kill him, but Gauma rushes in at the last second to take the blow for Yomogi. It’s likely the only blow he’ll be able to take against Shizumu, considering his rapidly regrading condition, but thankfully Gridknight, Second, and even Goldburn come to their aid.

Shizumu uses Instance Domination on himself, summoning a big beautiful chortling mega-dinosaur robot of a kaiju, and immediately starts wrecking up the place with abandon.

Even though Gauma says a hospital can’t do anything about the “decay” quickly consuming him, Yomogi still won’t allow him to just lie there and die, and Second helps carry him. Gridknight combines with Goldburn to form Super Dragon King Kaiser Gridknight, but Shizumu proceeds to mop the floor with him, leveling many a multi-use block in the process.

As he strolls through flames like one of the God Warriors of the Seven Days of Fire that destroyed the world of yore in Nausicaa, our ordinary heroes are once again tasked with uniting to achieve extraordinary feats. I’m as glad Yomogi finally told Yume he liked her as I’m bummed Shizumu kept us from hearing her answer (whatever it was).

Those offsetting emotions, along with the fact this was merely the setup for the final showdown, kept this week’s score out of the stratosphere, but it was still full of great, mundane, everyday scenes and sounds, and while I’m looking forward to the animators outdoing themselves in the decisive battle, I hope the finale doesn’t abandon that vital “normalness” that’s made both Dynazenon and Gridman before it so rich and absorbing.

Yes, despite its often absurd and fantastical situations, Dynazenon still manages to feel like home—a home I know I’ll miss when it departs.

By: braverade