#I saw an ad (organically) and i was like “oh new life is strange game? i wonder who its about?” and then someone in the add said “Caufield”

[zickmonkey]

The reason I'm upset about the price field break up in Double Exposure is because I want to kiss Chloe

[shera-dnd]

And the first commission of the month is done! This was so much fun to write and was sincerely the silliest thing I've written in a long time. Hope you all enjoy this as much as I did.

It was a busy day around the atlesian crater, the hole left at the center of Mantle when Atlas took to the sky. All around SDC workers moved about, setting everything up for the big event. And at the center of this whirlwind of people walked two women caught in conversation.

“What I’m saying is that it would be good for both our images for the leader of the atlesian branch of the White Fang, and the head of the SDC to be seen in public together,” one woman argued, “you know, show the world that our organizations can work together to build a better future.”

“And what I’m saying, Ilia,” the second argued, “is that you don’t have to come up with an excuse for me to spend time with a friend.”

“So you’re not coming to the event with me because?” Ilia asked, earning herself an eye roll from her companion.

“Because someone has to keep everything from going up in flames,” she argued, “trust me, I’d want nothing more than to relax and enjoy some time with my friends, but I really need to keep an eye on things.”

“Seriously, Weiss?” Ilia asked, sounding more than a little annoyed, “is there no one you can trust to handle things for you?”

“Well, there is you,” Weiss mused, seeming not to notice Ilia’s quick shift through shades of pink, before settling back on her normal skin color, “but I guess that defeats the point. There is also Winter, but she’s already super busy.”

“You know what? I’m gonna figure something out,” she offered.

“Ilia, you really don’t have to.”

“I’m serious,” Ilia insisted, “you deserve a break. Let me sort things out for you.”

“Thank you,” Weiss replied, smiling at her as she pulled her into a hug, “no breaking anyone’s teeth though.”

Ilia once again went on a journey through every possible shade of pink, as she was held close. It took some focus to get her colors under control, and even more to formulate a reply.

“Hey, I only did that once!” She countered, her voice faltering for a moment.

Weiss pulled away from the hug and was about to snark back, when they were both interrupted by the sound of jets.

“Salutations!” Greeted the source of the noise. Jets of flame came out of her boots as she flew down to ground level, carrying a massive sound system on each shoulder. She gently placed both of those down, before posing proudly before the two women.

“Penny!” Weiss greeted back, walking up to talk to her, “thank you so much for the help.”

“Don’t mention it, Weiss,” Penny waved off, “you’re helping Mantle, after all, so the least I can do is help you too.”

Penny then pulled Weiss into a rib crushing hug, and over the sound of all the air leaving her lungs, Weiss could swear she heard an annoyed groan coming from Ilia. She really didn’t understand why she got like that whenever she saw them talking together.

The android eventually let Weiss go - something her lungs were grateful for - and picked up the sound systems again, “so where do you need these?”

“Over by the main tent,” Weiss informed. She waved her hand, causing a spectral knight in white armor to appear next to them, it picked up one of the sound systems from Penny and tossed it over its shoulder with ease, “and, please, let me help you.”

Ilia only tapped her foot impatiently for a moment, before adding, “I just remembered I had something to do, so I’m gonna get going now.”

“Oh, see you later then,” Weiss replied, too distracted to notice Penny playfully sticking her tongue out at Ilia, “sorry we couldn’t spend much time together.”

“It’s alright,” though Ilia was clearly talking to Weiss, she wasn’t looking at her, instead her eyes were locked onto Penny. Well...that was odd. Maybe she should ask her what that was about once they weren’t all so busy with the charity event.

With that, Weiss waved her goodbye and turned to walk Penny to where she was needed, her summon dutifully following at their side.

“Weiss, I had the most sensational idea for the charity event,” Penny commented as they walked together, “what if we auction off a little flyby through Mantle, on the arms of the Protector of Mantle herself?” She offers, pausing to flex so she can really sell her point. Not that she really had to, because Weiss loved the idea already.

“Penny, that’s perfect!” She cheered, “I already know so many people who would pay a fortune for a chance to get carried around by you.”

The android looked almost bashful at that comment, it was kinda cute, even though she was still holding a piece of equipment that weighted easily as much as her. “Maybe we can do a little demonstration flight. I can take you for a ride around town, so they know everything is safe.”

Weiss chuckled at that, “oh, don’t worry about it. You’re the Protector of Mantle, no one needs proof that they’ll be safe with you.’

“R-Right, of course,” she stammered, obviously just a sign that Penny still didn’t know how to handle this much positive attention, “so do you need me to carry anything else?”

~~~

Penny slumped onto a nearby bench, exhausted and defeated. Her many internal sensors reminded her that she was still at full aura and had enough battery life for another week before her next mandatory recharge. But it wasn’t physical exhaustion that wore her out, it was emotional.

Weiss was sweet, loving, kind, and also really damn pretty. Penny had been keenly aware of this from the moment she got accidentally tackled to the ground all those years ago. What had taken her a while to figure out was that what she felt towards her was more than just friendly affection, and by then she found out she had competition.

“No luck?” Ilia asked, she had been sitting on that bench for a while now, lazily staring off at the sky.

“No luck,” she sighed in agreement.

The worst realization was one that came far more recently. Weiss Schnee was completely oblivious to any and all romantic approaches.

Ilia groaned loudly and leaned forward, burying her face in her hands, “how can someone so smart be so fucking stupid?”

“I don’t know,” Penny answered, leaning against Ilia. She didn’t seem to mind, she knew physical contact was how the android recharged her emotional batteries, “but it’s kinda cute.”

Ilia shot her the most infuriated glare she could manage, reds and yellows spreading through her skin...before dying down once again, “I hate that you’re right.”

“So what now?” Penny asked, ignoring the glare as she continued to lean against her.

“What do you mean ‘what now’?” She asked, sounding completely baffled, “the game is still on, Polendina. I’m still gonna spend my night with her.”

Ilia’s burst of competitive energy seemed to be contagious, because suddenly Penny felt far more energized. She jumped up to her feet and declared, “it will be a shame then that I’ll have to interrupt it to take her on a romantic flight through Mantle.”

They held an intense staredown for all of thirty seconds, before the both of them burst out laughing. Wow, they really were getting competitive over a silly crush, huh? It was so silly, but it was surprisingly fun too. Neither of them would really resent the other for ‘winning’, and they knew that, but they enjoyed keeping up the act.

“Good luck, Penny.”

“Good luck, Ilia.”

~~~

It was strange walking through the headquarters of the SDC like this. Not running from security, not stalking through the dark, just calmly walking in to see a friend. Ilia just couldn’t get used to it. All those guards just put her on edge, even if all they did now was nod politely and ask if she needed anything.

“Miss Amitola,” greeted Weiss’s secretary, “Miss Schnee is in the middle of a meeting, but she should be able to see you shortly.”

“Thanks, I’ll just wait here then,” she replied, taking a seat right outside Weiss’s office.

Gods, that was so weird.

Thankfully she soon found something to distract herself from the awkward silence of the office building. Specifically the fact that the room didn’t stay silent for much longer, because Weiss’s office walls weren’t half as thick as they should be.

“I don’t care if some rich idiots are uncomfortable!” Came Weiss’s muffled shout through her office walls, “this is about helping the faunus community living in the crater! I am not closing off the event to them!”

There was a short moment of silence, as whoever she was talking to quietly defended themself.

“Then they can go and cancel!” She shouted again, “if they don’t like being around those in need, then I don’t want them at the event!”

Ilia tried not to laugh as she watched that idiot scamper off, leaving behind a trail of “sorry, ma’am”s, “of course, ma’am”s, on his way out. Was it bad that watching Weiss verbally eviscerate a man kinda made her crush on her even more? Maybe, but Ilia didn’t care.

Deciding not to question her taste in women, Ilia simply got up and held the door before it had the chance to close behind the man. “I take it you could use some good news,” she offered.

“Please,” Weiss asked, massaging her temples.

“So I was checking on what agents we had available around Solitas,” she explained, casually walking in and taking a seat, “and I think I found someone who can take care of things for you.”

“Look, I appreciate it, but I really don’t want to outsource my responsibilities like that,” Weiss argued, “besides, I’m not gonna trust this event to someone I don’t know.”

Ilia leaned back and shrugged, “I guess I’ll have to tell our favorite Belladonna to cancel it.”

“Wait!” Weiss said, nearly doing a double take, “Blake is here?”

“She just finished a mission in Argus, and was coming over here for a visit,” she answered, “I barely said a word about the event before she offered to help.”

“Of course she did,” she sighed, “she really needs to learn to take a break.”

“And you don’t?” Ilia asked.

“I’m fine,” she insisted, only earning herself a raised eyebrow, “I’m serious!”

“Schnee,” she called, leaning forward again, and looking Weiss dead in the eye, “you’re taking a break even if me, Blake, and Penny have to carry you out of this building ourselves.”

“Fine,” Weiss crossed her arms and groaned, sliding a little down her chair as she did.

“Was it that hard?” Ilia asked, thoroughly amused by this.

“Yes,” she answered.

“Shame,” Ilia had to laugh at that, “but how about you rest, relax, and enjoy the evening with me?”

“That… that does sound nice,” Weiss agreed.

Ilia smiled, looking far too pleased with herself, and got up.

“See you at the event then.”

Ilia had barely taken a step out of the office, when her favorite android stepped in.

“Hey, Wei--Oh, Ilia!” Penny greeted, looking confused for a moment, before realizing there was only one possible reason for the faunus to look so pleased.

This time it was Ilia’s turn to stick her tongue at her.

“Penny!” Weiss cheerfully called, as she stepped out to greet her, “what are you doing here?”

“Oh, well, dad made a little extra for lunch today, and I know you haven’t had anything home made in a while, so I thought you’d appreciate a little Polendina family recipe,” she explained, gesturing towards a bag she’d been holding.

“Oh thank you,” Weiss replied, taking the bag and giving Penny a quick kiss on the cheek, “I don’t know what’d I’d do without you two.”

Ilia was somewhat annoyed that she didn’t get any kisses for her whole plan, but she still had plenty of time to work on that, and besides she was the one who scored herself a date. So suck it, Polendina.

Oh speaking of which.

“I should probably get going. I gotta go welcome Blake once she gets here,” Ilia excused herself, before adding a pointed, “see you at the event later.”

“See you there,” Weiss replied, “and give Blake a hug for me.”

“Will do,” and with that she was off.

It didn’t take long for her to hear heavy metal steps catching up to her.

“Did she say yes?” Penny asked.

“She did,” Ilia answered, turning around to look at her, “ready to admit defeat?”

“Never!”

“Well, I’m the one with a date tonight, not you, so suck it tin can!” Ilia taunted.

And Penny let out a loud gasp, covering her mouth with her hand. “Ilia!”

Ah crap, did she cross a line?

“Shit, I didn’t mean it like that,” Ilia apologized in a panic, “I’m so sorry.”

Penny’s look of offense and horror quickly melted away into a fit of giggles. Oh she did not just do that just to mess with her! How dare she!?

“Oh, you little shit,” Ilia accused, but any menace in her tone was completely undermined by her skin shifting an embarrassed pink.

That stupid robot somehow thought that meant it was okay to give her a hug. It wasn’t, and her getting pinker didn’t mean shit.

The two gay idiots bickered for a little while longer, thinking it was just the two of them in the halls of the SDC, before taking their leave. But there was someone there, pearing just outside the office doors, watching this all unfold.

~~~

The event had finally begun. The Crater Community Charity Event, organized by the SDC for raising funds to help improve the infrastructure of the neighborhoods in and around the atlesian crater. Since those neighborhoods were majority faunus, the White Fang took particular interest in making sure the event went well, and that the charity was well funded. Which is why no one seemed surprised that the leader of the local branch was walking around like she owned the place.

Not that some of the rich bastards didn’t glare at her as she walked by, still mistrustful of her and her organization. But what were they gonna do? Kick her out? Those assholes barely had the guts to do more than glare, especially when she was accompanied by the woman running this event.

Weiss seemed to delight in that, the act of infuriating so many terrible people simply by enjoying herself, and knowing that these people could do nothing to stop her. It was a level of pettiness that Ilia couldn’t help but respect.

Though unfortunately the head of the SDC was far more perceptive to angry glares than she was to loving glances, or perhaps she would have noticed how Ilia had looked at her that entire evening. No matter, they were still enjoying their date, even if it was more a friend date between gal pals, than an actual romantic one.

“Hey, Weiss,” Ilia called, just loud enough that Weiss could hear it, but hopefully nobody else, “I really appreciate getting to spend time with you today.”

“Ilia, you’re my friend,” she answered, “you don’t have to thank me for something like that.”

Gods, this girl was oblivious.

“I’m serious,” she insisted, “it means a lot. I really do enjoy your company, and I...and I…”

Before she could find her words, a bright green light streaked across the sky above them and landed nearby. Oh, just what Ilia needed right now...

Weiss gasped, “the auction is about to start!”

And next thing Ilia knew she was getting dragged along through the crowd towards where several rich weirdos gathered. At the center of it all was Penny Polendina, posing like a superhero straight out of a comic, as Blake Belladonna announced the auction. The right to a flight through Mantle in her strong robot arms.

It didn’t take long for the bids to skyrocket higher than Penny herself could, as many rich idiots offered to pay exorbitant amounts of money for the right to get bridal carried through the sky. Well at least this was all going to faunus communities in need.

As more people made their bids Ilia noticed just how few of them were men. Most of the people willing to pay for that flight were women, some of them just for the thrill of the flight, some clearly sapphics, and some in even clearer denial. For a moment there, when they were deep in the five digit territory, it seemed like a member of team denial was about to get her win. An older rich woman, obviously displeased with her husband, and about a light breeze away from a proper gay awakening.

But she was denied that when Weiss shouted, “a hundred thousand lien!”

Ilia’s heart sank and the crowd went quiet. Lady Denial nudged her husband a few times and they seemed to have a quiet argument, before she resigned herself to her defeat. Well, at least Ilia wasn’t the one most disappointed by this turn of events.

“What are you doing!?” She hissed at Weiss.

“I’m winning you a date,” Weiss whispered back.

“You’re what!?”

“I saw you talking to Penny after you left the office, you don’t have to hide it, Ilia,” Weiss said, somehow thinking that explained anything.

“What!?”

“Come on, the moment she giggled you turned pinker than I’ve ever seen you,” Weiss continued, and Ilia was pretty sure she was about to pop a blood vessel, “and the way you’ve been looking at her all the time. You have the most obvious crush ever.”

So that’s how Ilia found herself being flown high over Mantle, in the arms of her romantic rival. The flight had been completely silent, neither really wanting to talk about this turn of events, or even acknowledge that it was happening. This was the stupidest way this night could have possibly gone.

“I think we should tell her,” Penny eventually said.

“Yes, yes we should,” Ilia was forced to agree.

~~~

“Weiss!” She heard Ilia call, along with the sound of Penny’s jets, “we need to talk!”

Weiss turned around right on time to catch Penny land and gently help Ilia stand.

“Well, you two are back early,” she commented, “did something happen?”

“Yes,” they both answered at the same time. Oh? That wasn’t a good sign.

“Weiss, we know you’re just trying to be a good friend,” Penny began, trying to soften the blow of Ilia’s clear annoyance.

“But this is really getting absurd,” Ilia continued.

Weiss blinked a few times, “I’m confused, what’s going on?”

Ilia and Penny looked at each other for a moment, they gestured a few times as if silently arguing over something, before Penny stepped forward.

“Ilia isn’t crushing on me,” she finally spoke, though she needed a deep breath before continuing, “she’s crushing on you, and so am I.”

“Excuse me!?” Weiss blurted, looking completely befuddled.

Ilia sighed and took this as her cue to step in, “we like you, damn it! We’ve been trying to tell you for ages, but we couldn’t get you to take a hint!”

“So all those times you’ve both been really insistent on helping me or spending time with me…”

“It was a display of romantic feelings, yes.” Penny answered with an energetic nod.

“And you guys kept staring at each other, and snarking…”

“It was us getting competitive,” Ilia explained, “playfully,” she added.

“Huh,” she responded, a tiny humorous smile forming on her face, as if she had finally understood the punchline to a joke, “so I take it you two expect me to choose one of you now?”

“That would be preferable,” Penny answered.

Weiss seemed to ponder for a moment, looking between the two of them as if she was weighing the pros and cons of each option.

“Both,” she declared.

“Both!?” They echoed.

“Yes, both.”

“Is that an option?” Penny asked, appearing very confused.

“If you’re both okay with that,” Weiss answered, with a tiny shrug.

“Oh, of course the privileged little Schnee would go and choose to have everything,” Ilia complained.

“Is that a no?” Weiss asked, sounding almost like a challenge.

“Of course it isn’t!” She yelled back, pinks shooting all over her hair as she walked up to her and took her hand.

Penny practically flew as she went to grab the other one, happily giggling the whole time.

Weiss smiled, kissed them both on the cheek, and walked back to the charity event with both girlfriends in hand.

[wellhellotragic]

Hiraeth

Summary: Emma’s life had always been carefully curated for her as the daughter of a Navy Admiral. To follow in her mothers footsteps: meet and marry a suitable husband and be the best wife possible. But what she hadn’t expected was for her father to be reassigned halfway around the world to Egypt, and she certainly had never expected to meet and fall in love with a man so opposed to everything her father stood for...

A/N: Well, @shireness-says​​, I guess it’s finally time to reveal myself. Hope having me as your @cssecretsanta2020​​  isn’t too disappointing. I think I managed to get 90% of your wish list tucked into this little monster. I hope you have the most wonderful of Christmases this year!

 Hiraeth: A homesickness for a home you can't return to, or that never was. Grief for a loss, something you can never have again.

 _____________________________________________________________

 She hears a crackling noise coming from the next room, the oversized fireplace recently stoked with with wood, and even in its muffled state through the doorway, it brings a calmness to the home. Winters in London have always been chilly, but this one is by far the most brutal that Emma can remember and the snow piling up outside has brought transportation to a halt as the cobblestone roads give no grip to passing carriages. She briefly considers taking a few sips of the bottle of brandy she has hidden in the back of the cupboard to warm her, but considering the small child playing with her doll in the great room, Emma decides against, choosing to boil some water instead. 

 It’s strange, being in the house, just the two of them after all this time. Stranger yet celebrating a family holiday without the entire family, but such is life. She will allow herself to cry tonight once the child is safely tucked into her bed with a story told. She will allow herself to grieve for the man not sleeping at her side and the chill that’s taken hold of his side of the mattress. For the quietness of the home,  but for now, she’s going to smile and tell her daughter a tale of Father Christmas.

The kettle begins to whistle, taking Emma by surprise, having lost track of the time in her wistfulness. Quickly she composes herself and sets about mixing up two cups of cocoa, complete with whipped cream and a generous dusting of cinnamon on top for good measure. Always with the cinnamon.

 She places both cups on a small wooden tray, adding in some biscuits, before taking the tray into the living room. There, she finds the small girl playing a game of imaginary flight. The girl has named the doll Wendy, based on some fairytale she’d been told at school. One retold to her by a classmate whose father spun such tales for a living. 

 “Fly Wendy, you must believe. You simply must!”

 “What must she believe, my Poppet?” Emma can’t help but chuckle at the earnestness of her daughter’s words.

 “Oh, it’s quite simple really. She has to believe in the magic for it to work so she can fly.”

 “Ah, well maybe she just needs some cocoa to help her outlook. What do you say?”

 The young girl nearly tossed her doll in the air in her haste to run to the table where her mother has set the tray. Tiny fingers move at nearly impossible speed and it’s all Emma can do to prevent her from burning her mouth again.

 “Careful, it’s still warm, you must take care to blow on it, sweetheart.”

 The little girl rolls her eyes before nearly sinking her face into the whip cream, catching a dollop on her nose as she blows. Giggles fill the room and Emma’s heart begins to warm just a bit.

 “Mummy, Theo told me that cinnamon on cocoa was wrong. That it doesn’t belong.”

 “And what did you say in return?”

 “Well, I told him that he was silly of course.”

 Emma laughed. Her daughter has inherited so much of her father in physical appearance, but tucked away inside the girl, Emma often finds her own spirit. 

 “Have I ever told you the story of how I came to use cinnamon on my cocoa?”

 The little girl shakes her head as she takes a sip of her now cooled drink.

 “Well, then, where should I begin?” Emma smiles wistfully before continuing. “Once upon a time…”

 _____________________________________

1881 Port of Alexandria, Egypt

 She’d been sick since the day they’d left London, never having experienced the open waters before. She’d been on boats a handful of times as a child with her father, yet they’d never had the occasion to leave their position in the berth and weeks at sea had taken their toll. Emma, like a handful of others unaccustomed to the waves, had taken ill, turning nearly green in the face. Most of the men aboard had served in her Majesty's Navy for years, making such simple work of setting about the ship with ease. Emma envied them that, having spent nearly every day in her room sick over a bucket.

 Her only solace was the blaring horn of her father’s ship alerting them that they’d finally arrived at their destination. Leaving London hadn't been easy, saying goodbye to so many of her friends. To the only home she’d ever lived in. Her mother told her to think of it as an adventure, reminding her constantly that it wasn’t a house that made a home. It was family. But Emma and her mother had experienced very different upbrings. 

 And the idea of moving to Egypt had been off putting. She’d been warned of the heat and the impoverished people. The less than ideal sanitary situation had also been worrisome. It was only at the insistence of her father and that Emma was able to avoid hesitation all together.

 But that was then, before her family drug her nearly kicking and screaming halfway across the world to an entirely different continent. She didn’t know much about Egypt other than the English had recently begun to colonise it to ensure the protection of monetary interest. She knew even lesser still about Alexandria. An oasis of sorts her father had said, situated between the Nile and the new Suez Canal, producing some of the most fertile land in the country, which was also the very reason they were there. To protect more than the land the Queen now laid claim to, but to ensure safe passage for  the ships returning to England from India. 

 “Emma, sweetheart, are you coming?”

 Emma looked up to find her mother’s head poking in through the doorway, cheerful as always. “We really mustn’t dotile, it wouldn’t make for a good first impression.”

 “Of course, we couldn’t possibly be late,” she mocked as she rolled her eyes, trying to find a place to stow her recently used bucket. Heaven forbid they ever step one toe out of line. It wasn’t that she didn’t understand the importance of her father’s role as a Rear-Admiral and how important it was to keep up the image of the perfect family, but for Emma, it meant everything had to be just so. No creases in her dresses, no new fashions that were considered too provocative as they may have shown the slightest hint of skin around the reduced neckline. It also meant that every moment of her day must have been accounted for. 

 It wasn’t as if she had a rebellious streak, but she longed to have any semblance of autonomy in her own life. But that wasn’t the life she was destined for. Instead, she was expected to find a suitable husband of good social standing and wealth, and to bear his children. To provide for him in any way necessary and to see only to his happiness. So many of her friends had been all too eager to accept marriage proposals from men that ill fitted their personalities just for the sake of not being labeled a spinster.

 At nearly twenty one, Emma had already pushed the boundaries, having recently turned down a marriage proposal from the son of the Admiral of the Fleet, a reason she strongly believed had led to the sudden reassignment of her father. Neal’s father had always stuck her as a horribly controlling man, a trait that she saw more and more in Neal as their courtship progressed.

 “Emma, really, I must insist that you hurry.”

 “Yes, mother.”

 Emma rose from her seat and placed her bucket on the floor at the foot of her bed before putting herself to rights. She checked her hair in the small mirror hung on the wall opposite her luggage, trying her best not to look as bad as she felt. 

 The top deck of the ship was beaming with life. People milled about everywhere, barking orders to some, saluting others. It was the most organized brand of chaos Emma had ever laid eyes on. She followed her mother, taking caution not to step in anyone’s way as they made their way to the gangplank. 

 It was there that she caught her first sight of her new home. It was breathtaking, not at all what she’d expected. The sky above the city was the bluest she’d ever experienced, like the ocean itself had been reflected into the heavens, and the buildings lining the seashore erupted in a mountain of golden sandcastles. 

 She’d barely had time to take it in before her mother began tugging on her elbow, a silent signal to move faster. Once on land again, Emma and her mother were greeted by the women’s auxiliary group. There were a handful of other officers that had brought families with them to their new duty station, and as was customary, a greeting party had come to meet the newest arrivals. 

 The women, some as young as Emma swooned and cooed over her mother. It wasn’t every day that the wife of such a high ranking official appeared, and the women clearly wanted to make a positive first impression, cementing their good standings as well as their husband’s in the mind of her mother. Much of the privilege afforded to soldiers and their families depended on rank, but social status had long been its own form of exchangeable collateral. 

 They all exchanged pleasantries as the woman walked them to the nearby base, a small wall and barbed wire barricade the only thing separating them from what some of the women had referred to as natives. Emma tried not to show her disgust at the term, but it was difficult when they seemed so unapologetic for the slur. Especially when they spoke of the uprising and how some of them needed to be put down like dogs.

 Emma had seen her fair share of aristocrat snobbery before, but nothing quite so brazen. If not for the young brunette ambeling beside her, rolling her eyes as the women spoke, Emma certainly would have lost her sanity. 

 Eventually the gaggle of women made it to the house that Emma would call home. It wasn’t nearly as fancy as what she’d been accustomed to in London. There weren’t any of the ornate embellishments on the walls, no wood carvings, not even any color really. By some miracle though, the house did have plumbing, which had been one of Emma’s greatest worries. Some of her friends had warned her that she would be forced to use outhouses and public bathes.

 The home itself was bleak, but her mother took it in stride, finding whatever she could to be excited about, and told the women that she would make her own in no time. Soon, she’d even managed to command the kitchen enough to make tea for all of the ladies who’d been kind enough to stock the house with groceries for the newcomers. They sat around the small table in the living room and discussed what it was like living in Alexandria, gossiping about one of the wives who hadn’t been able to make it. At one point, the conversation had shifted back to the natives, a warning not to venture into the city without a male escort to prevent savagery. Emma felt the walls closing in as the conversation continued. This small base made of a few homes and barracks had become a small prison. All of her dreams crushed.

 As the women rose and exchanged parting words, Emma moved to take her leave but felt someone grab her wrist, tugging her outside and around the corner of the house. The girl continued to pull her farther and farther away from any other people.

 Not sure what was happening, Emma braced herself to dig her heels into the ground, not wishing to move another inch.

 “Where are you trying to take me,” she demanded.

 It was the same brunette from earlier, and with a wolfish grin she shrugged.

 “To the city of course.”

 _____________________________________

 She wasn’t quite sure what had possessed her to follow the young woman she now knew as Ruby. Perhaps it was a rebellion from all of the rules that had been forced upon her in such a limited amount of time. Perhaps it was sheer curiosity, but she went, almost eagerly.

 Emma listened as Ruby told her about all of the places as they passed them and the people, even watching Ruby greet a few of them as friends. It was such a different picture from the one the women on base had painted. Half of her had been expecting men hidden under robes and veils to jump out and grab her, but the men and women that they came across all seemed friendly enough. 

 Soon, she found herself entering a brasserie. Ruby didn’t miss a beat in rushing to a table with a couple already sat across from each other. With no prompting whatsoever, Ruby took the spot next to the gentleman, edging him further against the wall. She motioned for Emma to sit as well. Carefully, she slid onto the bench next to the other woman, making sure not to crowd her. 

 It wasn’t until she’d become fully situated that she’d really been able to take stock of the people sitting with her. The woman to her right was beautiful in her own right. Brown hair tied at her nape, flowing over her shoulder in curls. It was odd for Emma to see a woman wish such relaxed standards and so carefree. In old London society, it was an unspoken rule that women wore their hair up in fanciful twists. 

 But as surprising as the woman’s demeanor was, it was truly the gentleman that had caught her attention. A slight scruff speckled the entire lower half of his face, and his cheeks had a sunkissed glow about them. But his eyes, they sparkled a deep blue, and all thoughts she’d had about the Egyptian sky upon her arrival had been put to shame by him.

 “Emma, I’d like you to meet my friend Belle, and her pet, Killian. Everyone, this is Emma. She’s just arrived today and I’m trying to dispel the lies she’s heard of the city thus far.”

 Killian nodded in her direction, but remained silent. Belle on the other hand had been eager to speak, having originally been born in France, but she’d lived in London until only a few years prior. She asked all sorts of questions about the museums and libraries, and life in general. Emma filled her in on all of the newness of what she’d missed since leaving. Before she knew it, a table full of food had appeared, enough to feed a small army.

 She’d been reluctant to eat any, not yet having currency to pay for her share, but Ruby insisted, telling her it was on Killian. He barked out a laugh, but assured her that lunch was on him as a welcome gift. The four of them ate and spoke. Or more aptly, Ruby and Belle did most of the speaking, which was fine by Emma. She’d learned so much about Alexandria. 

 As it turned out, Ruby was the daughter of another office stationed at the base, but Belle had no affiliation with the Navy. She’d simply come to Egypt for the adventure of it all. She was actually on a small team searching for the lost library of Alexandria. She told Emma how many of the explorers that had come to the country had done so for the glory and treasure. Most of them were in Cairo, exploring pyramids and digging in the middle of nowhere hoping for the best. She on the other hand was intrigued by the library, her treasure was the lost books. The knowledge that had slipped away.

 Eventually, lunch came to an end, their bellies all well and full, and Killian informed them that he’d stayed as long as possible, but that he needed to depart. Emma wasn’t sure why - he’d barely spoken, and she’d no knowledge of anything about it - but there was a small twinge of sadness at his leaving. 

 As they excited the brasserie, she watched as he turned and gave both Ruby and Belle hugs before handing Belle a small satchel. Emma had been taken back. In her previous social graces, a man and women were never to embrace unless they were married, and even then, they were to maintain a certain amount of propriety in public. But there, amongst a city of strangers, they seemed to give it no thought. 

 She was taken back yet again when Killian grabbed her hand, brushing the slightest of kisses against her knuckles. She felt her breath quicken and her heart begin to pound within her chest and she worried that the others might hear it. 

 “My lady.”

 And then, before Emma could catch the breath that had left her body, he walked away. She tried not to watch him as he left, but her eyes had affixed to him, and there was no prying her sight from him until he’d turned into an alleyway. A gleeful squeal from Belle as she peaked inside the satchel and pulled out a worn book was the only thing that finally allowed Emma to focus her attention elsewhere.

 “Hook always brings her a new rare book when he returns to the city, and everytime she loses her mind as if it were not to be expected from him.”

 “Hook, is that Mr. Killian’s last name.”

 Ruby snorted. 

 “Mister Killian? We’ve really got our work cut out for us with this one.”

 Belle shushed Ruby, only giving the smallest of snickers.

 “To answer your question, no. His last name is Jones. Hook was a moniker given to him back in his navy days. He was always very prim and proper of course, but if the occasion called for it, he had a mean left hook.”

 Emma nodded in understanding, trying to reconcile the image of a clean cut soldier with the man she’d just met. 

 “As as far as Ruby is concerned, the best part of living in Alexandria is the freedom to not abide by strict formalities.”

 “Exactly, you needn’t be so formal here. There’s no Mister Killian or Mister Jones. No one here is going to rat you out for being human, Emma.”

 “I-”

 “No. You’re going to have enough thrust upon you on post, so in the rare moments you have for yourself like this, take advantage.”

 Emma understood Ruby’s intentions, but she’d let her guard down once before and it had led to her father being exiled from his position. She couldn’t risk letting him down again. Instead, she nodded and did her best to change the subject.

 After some time, Emma and Ruby returned to the base, parting ways near each of their homes. Ruby lived with her father and grandmother on the opposite end of the street. The girls made plans to meet up later in the week once Emma had her footing under her. 

 That evening, her parents discussed their days. Her father had his work cut out for him. Not only was he tasked with maintaining order in the city of Alexandria, but he’d just been informed that there had been a ship in the Medditeranian Sea that had been terrorizing cargo ships departing the Suez canal on their way home to London. He told them that the Royal Navy had searched exhaustively for the ship, but hadn’t had any luck and that they suspected that one of the neighboring countries was helping to provide a safe haven for the pillagers. They were ghosts. 

 Emma went to bed not long after, exhausted from all of the events of the day. Her mind couldn’t help but replaying everything over and over again in her mind. She’d managed to make new friends sooner than expected, and she genuinely enjoyed her time with Ruby and Belle. They were both so different from her social circle in London, more free and uninhibited. Something she’d always wished she could be but nothing she could have herself, given her station. The other member of her group had been more of an enigma, so quiet and mindful. She had to admit to herself, he was very handsome, and if not for his obvious relationship with Belle, she may have even allowed herself to dwell on his blue eyes and raven black hair. But he was already in a courtship, and she would do well to think of other things. 

 If only her dreams had understood propriety. 

 _____________________________________

 The following few weeks were packed full of events and social soirees. Her mother wasted no time jumping into her role as a mother hen to the entire base, organizing tea parties, book clubs, even planning a winter ball for all of the soldiers. The weather in Alexandria was a far cry from the snowy streets of England but her mother made due, and also made use of nearly all of Emma’s free time. 

 She’d seen Ruby nearly daily, allowing their bond to grow, but the two women had only been able to sneak off once in the four weeks that Emma had lived in Egypt to meet Belle. The women had shared a more traditional meal in a British Pub that time. Emma had learned that the British people who lived in the center of the city had begun transforming the buildings, erecting more Victorian style facades with not one, but two pubs offering traditional menus and ales for the homesick. It was a remarkable find, and Emma was grateful for any semblance of her life before, but a small part of her couldn’t help but feel guilty, as if her people were ravanging the land, forcing their ways on others. 

 Even Belle had noticed the lack of Egyption patrons, and had warned the girls that there had been gossip of groups speaking out against the British presence in Alexandria. Nothing had come of it, but she warned the girls to be cautious and never to explore the city alone. For her part, Belle had taken a guide, hired by her employer for her protection. It also helped that Belle spoke and read the language, making her less helpless. 

 The days turned to months, and every few weeks the girls were able to sneak away for lunches at the same Brasserie as their first meeting. Sometimes it was just the three of them and they would discuss Belle’s research or Ruby’s grandmother who lived with her and her father. They spoke of news from England. Sometimes Killian was there as well, regaling them all with stories that Emma often believed were complete fiction. She learned that he captained a ship that transported cargo, weeks of sailing the Suez Canal being what kept him away for such long stretches of time.

 It was during hose visits with Killian present that Emma experienced some of the most amazing meals she’d ever eaten. The chicken curry with black cardamom had been particularly flavorful and the Mahlab bread had been perfect, but for Emma the Morracan saffron chicken had been her absolute favorite. The four of them became very close, but Emma still knew little about Killian, aside from the fact that he’d grown up in Yorkshire and sailed. The curiosity of it all ate away at ther, but it would have been improper for her to inquire into his life in such a way. 

 Instead, the small group continued to meet when they could, exchanging mostly pleasant conversation, with Emma occasionally venting her frustration of having to listen to her mother speak of some of the more eligible young naval officers with the sultity of Nelson's Column in Trafalgar Square. She also spoke of her excitement over the Winter Ball and how it would be nice to have a formal dance once more with some of the young soldiers.

 It wasn’t until nearly six months after Emma’s arrival that she learned that Killian and Belle were not in fact courting. The four of them met for a late lunch, eating their meal and catching up, and just as their plates were cleared, four mugs appeared, preordered by Killian before any of the rest of them had arrived. Killian had asked them all to keep an open mind, so Emma closed her eyes as she took her first sip, trying to focus on the taste, letting just the tiniest of moans escape her lips as the flavor exposed itself. It was sweeter than she’d remembered, but there was something else, something that gave it a small bite.

 “Killian, this is delicious! What is it?”

��Emma looked up from her mug to see a slight blush spread across his cheeks as he toyed with a spot behind his ear.

 It’s cocoa, made from camel’s milk, with a sprinkling of cinnamon. 

 “Cinnamon?”

 Emma wasn’t of simple mindedness. She’d seen the prices of many of the spices at the local markets, and while not as exotic as saffron or cardamom, cinnamon was still beyond the price she was willing to part with. While Killian never baulked at the price of their meals, nor did he seem to mind in the slightest the idea of paying for all of them, Emma often felt that she’d taken advantage of his kindness and polite manors, and the cinnamon cocoa that she savored did little to ease her guilt.

 It wasn’t until after they all parted, all with hugs and Emma yet again with a kiss to her hand from Killian, that she learned of the true relationship between Belle and Killian. That they were merely friends, that they had been for years. Ruby teased Emma at her naivety, explaining that Killian had never treated them to such alluring meals before, not until he met Emma. That many of the dishes they consumed weren’t even on the menu but that Killian had brought the spices with him and bribed the staff to use them for the table. 

 Ruby also teased Emma for the way she sometimes looked at Killian, the yearning glances. 

 For her part, Emma assured Ruby that there was no such thing, embarrassed that she been caught mooning over a man she’d thought taken until only moments before. Instead, Emma changed the topic entirely, asking Ruby how the Christmas dinner her Grandmother was planning was coming along. 

 The next two weeks passed in a blur as final preparations for the Winter Ball took place. All of the women pitched in making sure every decoration was placed in just the right spot, and that every possible detail had been seen to. Even though the base was small, and word of mouth would have been sufficient, Emma’s mother saw to it that each person had received a personalized invitation. 

 Her mother had chosen silver and blue for the colors, to accentuate the uniforms worn by the gentlemen. She’d even ordered new dresses from England. Silver for herself to coordinate with Emma’s father,  and a long sleeved cream gown for Emma, with ornate lace embellishments. Emma had insisted that it was too much, but Mary Margaret had been adamant that Emma put her finest foot forward - an obvious insinuation that it was time for Emma to begin a courtship less she waste away as a spinster in her old age.

 The ball itself was magnificent. The meal was divine, dripping with decadent sauces that reminded her of the nicer restaurants she’d been privileged enough to dine at before their move to Egypt. The desert was scrumptious as well, but as everyone spoke of how lovely the meal was, Emma couldn’t help but glance at the center table centerpieces. Silver and blue christmas baubles had been placed in glass vases. Most were uniform in shape and size, but there was one small bauble out of place among them, lighter in color. The blue of a certain pair of eyes she’d been dreaming of more and more lately. 

 She’d been so engrossed in her thoughts of the man who’s eyes had captivated her over so many other meals, that she’d completely missed the music begin to play, as well as the young petty officer at her side. It was only the clearing of her mother’s throat that brought her back enough to realize that he was there with his hand stretched out to her, asking for her own hand for a dance.

 Emma acquiesced, letting him lead her to the dance floor. There, they did their best to move in synchronicity, but Emma was rusty, and the poor petty officer had been born with two left feet. Emma had been grateful as the music came to an end and a new song began. Never had she been so grateful for social norms, the same one that prevented her from dancing with the same gentleman twice without being in a courtship. Not that it had really been much of a blessing. Each partner had his own quirks. Some moved too quickly, others too slow. One poor gentleman had clearly been taught by his friends, and had inadvertently learned the footwork meant for her. She did her best not to embarrass him or to bring attention to it. But after eight partners, she had become tired, and her feet ached.

 Ruby seemed much more excited though, telling Emma not to seem so glum. She was just in the middle of explaining her reluctance to dance anymore, when she heard a man interrupt from behind her.

 “Perhaps you just need a partner who knows what he’s doing.”

 Emma turned, recognizing the voice but not being able to rectify what she saw before her. There, in a pristine Lieutenant’s uniform, stood Killian Jones, clean shaven and just as proper as any man in the room. 

 “How- How are you here?”

 Killian chuckled and held his hand out for Emma, which she eagerly took as he guided her back into the center of the dance floor. 

 “I actually used to be stationed at this very post. It’s not exactly a fortress as I’m sure you know.”

 “But, why are you here? I only mean that if you've left this post, then why would you come to a ball like this?”

 “I’d never pass up a change to dance with a beautiful lady.”

 There was such earnestness in his eyes and Emma couldn’t help but blush and look away, unsure of what to say herself. Perhaps Ruby had been correct in her assessment of Killian’s affections for her. They didn’t speak beyond that, but when the song came to an end, Killian made no move to relinquish her hand, and she made no effort to deny him. The next song began soon after and they continued to float across the dance floor to a waltz.

 After the third song, Killian finally released Emma, knowing all too well how quickly gossip could spread in such small quarters. Together, they exited the dance floor and moved to gather some refreshments, but before they could make it to the table set for drinks, Emma came face to face with her father.

 By any account her father looked rather austere as he took in the form of the man behind her. 

 “Emma, won’t you introduce me to your friend?”

 Emma paused, not sure how to introduce Killian. It wasn’t as if he was meant to be there, or if he was even still in the navy - something she had questions about but would save for a later time - and didn’t know how many of the young naval men her father knew by name. 

 “Lieutenant Killian Jones, Sir. From the HMS Condor.”

 Emma watched as her father’s features relaxed a bit.

 “So you sail under Admiral Seymore then?”

 “Lore Beresford actually. Admiral Seymore commands the HMS Invincible now.”

 If it had been a test, Killian had surely passed given her father’s smile and invitation to sit at their table. David asked Killian all sorts of questions regarding his position and role aboard the Condor, and had Emma not been so enraptured by the ease at which Killian answered her father’s questions, she likely would have been bored of the conversation. The two men discussed Naval related items for a bit before the conversation shifted.

 “So, Jones, as a man who’s recently sailed in the Mediterranean, what can you tell me of the rogue ship that’s terrorizing the cargo vessels?”

 Killian scratched just behind his ear, a sign Emma had come to learn was an indication of his unease. 

 “Not much I’m afraid. I’ve heard a story or two but never encountered them myself. To be perfectly frank, I’m not even sure if they exist.”

 “Well if they don’t exist, why would ships claim to have been attacked then?”

 “Oh, it’s not uncommon actually. You see, before the canal was built, many of the ships would get caught in the storms around the cape. Sometimes they would genuinely lose a large portion of their cargo, and other times they would claim their losses to be greater than they actually were, especially if they’d been paid in advance. They’d hide the cargo and sell it at another port before docking in London.”

 “So they pocket the extra purse?”

 “Exactly, and now with the canal helping them avoid the more treacherous waters, they have no excuse to falsely declare their cargo manifest.”

 Emma’s father sighed, trying to take in everything Killian had told him. It seemed far fetched, and Emma’s father even said as much, but it was such a bizarre claim that Emma couldn’t help but wonder if there was some merit to it. 

 “It seems like an awful lot of trouble for so many ships to go to, but I guess it’s not out of the realm of possibilities. And if I’m being honest, I found myself questioning the stories all together when I heard the rumors of the vessel’s captain's name. Who would possibly ever wish to go by the name of Hook?”

 Both men laughed at the absurdity of it, but Emma couldn’t rid herself of the knot that had formed in her throat as Killian watched her with a cautious eye. It may have seemed such an absurd name if not for the fact that her father was speaking directly to the man in question without so much as a clue. She had invited the wolf into their home and he had devoured the sheep.

 Emma’s chair scraped the wood floor as she stood in a rush.

 “Mr. Jones, I do believe it is getting late and you said you needed to return to your ship soon.”

 Her father, completely stunned, told the young lieutenant that he didn’t wish to keep him, and Killian for his part nodded and thanked her father for a delightful evening. 

 Emma followed Killian outside, where he immediately turned to her and tried to speak, but she cut him off, enraged at his audacity.

 “Mr. Jones-”

 “Am I no longer Killian to you?”

 “Mr. Jones, given the situation, I must insist on following proper social decorum as not to beseech or sully my father’s name and standing in his post. I ask that you leave and that you do not return.”

 He only nodded and took his leave, breaking Emma’s heart in two as he did so.

_____________________________________

 Three months passed in which Emma devoted herself to her mother’s causes. It had been difficult at first as her mother pressed her in the days after the ball as to who her young lieutenant was, and Emma had assured her he was no one as she fought the urge to weep and scream and riot at the very thought of him. But when her father came home two weeks later, irate at learning that there was no such Lieutenant Jones on the HMS Condor, demanding that Emma have nothing to do with him and to report it if she ran into him again, Mary Margaret finally let the subject go. 

 Instead, her mother nurtured her as best she could, teaching her a new needle point technique, recommending books for Emma to read as the newest member of the women’s auxiliary book club. Anything she could to keep Emma’s mind busy. 

 Ruby tried as well, showing Emma new places in the city, showing her a mix of the roads less traveled by most sightseers. They shopped at the market and even learned to cook a new dish from an older Egyption woman that Ruby’s Granny had befriended. Ruby still took her monthly trips to have lunch with Belle, but Emma always declined. 

 Still, despite all of her activities, Emma found her mind wandering to a certain pair of blue eyes. Sometimes the thought of him sickened her so, but sometimes it just left her with a sense of melancholy. 

 He’d been the only man to captivate her so, to make her feel like she had value as a woman as more than just a future wife or daughter. She’d seen it in the way he interacted with Belle as well. He was different, and she’d foolishly allowed herself to believe him her equal in many ways.

 But he was a coward and a cod. 

 Two month more passed before Ruby finally broke, telling Emma she was being stubborn. That there was more to the story and that if Emma would only keep an open mind, that she would understand. 

 They fought, and Emma sent her away just as she had Killian. But Ruby had managed to dig her way into Emma’s mind, and her will shattered, curiosity settling into the cracks. Finally, Emma gave in and sought out Belle, with Ruby’s help.

 She learned that Killian once had an older brother named Liam. That Belle had actually been engaged to Liam before his passing, and that Killian and she had latched onto each other in the years since as the only family either one had left. That both Jones brothers had been sent by her Majesty to oversee the construction of the canal. That the working conditions for the Egyptians had been less than ideal. It was essentially slave labor, and many of them became ill and if they didn’t die from exhaustion and hunger, they died of cholera instead. That Liam had passed after getting sick as well.

 It had all been too much for Killian, who had witnessed everything first hand. The poor conditions, the way his countrymen had come to ravage a country, to indoctrinate themselves. He couldn’t be a party to it anymore, so he took his brother’s ship and crew and they revolted. They shed their uniforms and sailed under no man but themselves. They captured vessels and stole cargo belonging to the queen, giving it back to the Egyptians to sell for profit in reparations.

 It was so much more than Emma could comprehend. She’d seen firsthand how the British had taken over parts of the city, but she’d never considered it on such a large scale. And the thought of everything Killian had witnessed, she wouldn’t have had the strength to survive it all the way he had. 

 She’d been such a fool to dismiss him so carelessly, ignoring everything she’d known about him in favor of the limited gossip her father had spared her over a meal one night. 

 Belle told her that she expected Killian in a few days time, and told Emma where his ship usually made port to avoid the Naval ships in the area and where’s she’d likely find him in the mid morning. The next two days Emma felt her stomach in knots with anticipation and nerves. She’d barely been able to eat dinner and her mother had fretted that Emma had taken ill. 

 Sneaking away had been a thing of miracles, and had taken Ruby’s use of distraction, leaving Emma to roam the city alone for the first time. She knew the way, but there had been rumors of unrest in the city again, and although the port Killian used wasn’t far, she’d wished she’d heeded everyone's warnings when she found herself surrounded by two angry men, screaming at her in a language she didn’t understand. She tried to apologize for whatever she’d done and move on, but the men were enraged, and before she knew it, one of them and moved closer. She hadn’t been prepared for the stinging blow that crossed her cheek, nearly knocking her to the ground. 

 She felt herself being shoved back and forth between the two of them and felt nothing but fear. She’d never been in such a situation and had no way to defend herself. But just as one of them had pushed her against the wall, she heard another voice call out for them to let her go. There was a commotion, but her tear filled eyes had prevented her from seeing most of what had happened. All she’d caught was a blurry figure punching one of the men and both of them taking off down an ally, leaving her in the man’s charge. 

 The man tried to comfort her, but she recoiled from his touch, breaking into full hysterics, screaming at him to get away, trying to push against his chest when he didn’t leave. Instead he only pulled her closer and hugged her tightly until exhaustion set in and she collapsed into him.

 “Shh, It’s okay, love, I’ve got you.”

 It was only after she’d calmed down that she was finally able to make sense of what had occurred. Killian had seen the men pushing her and had come to her rescue. She collapsed into him once again, letting herself sink into his embrace that time. When they broke apart, she felt his fingers lift at her chin while he looked her over. 

 “Emma, what are you doing out here alone?”

 “I,” she hesitated, not sure how to begin her apology. “I actually came to find you. I needed to speak to you.”

 He gave her a small cautious smile, but he kept his distance, still unsure of his place with her. It broke her heart all over again, knowing that she’d caused him pain. “Come now, let’s get you out of here.”

 Emma followed him back to the market where more Englishmen were milling about. “Smee, something has come up that I must see to. I trust you to take care of things here.”

 “Aye, Captain.”

 Emma watched as Killian handed the stocky man a small notebook before taking her hand and guiding her away towards an area she had never been to before. They walked for a bit in silence before coming upon one of the most breathtaking views Emma had ever experienced. The water stretched out as far as the eye could see.

 “I’ve always found the sight of the sea from this place to be calming. I thought that perhaps you could use some of that calmness after what happened back there.”

 “It’s beautiful.”

 Killian removed his jacket and set it on the ground at Emma’s feet, signaling for her to sit. With his aid, she lowered herself down until she was in a seated position where he joined her. They sat in silence for a bit while Emma worked through her muddled thoughts. She’d had a plan before the incident but everything she’d practiced in her head seemed silly by comparison.

 “I wanted to thank you, Killian.” She hoped that the use of his name would have the impact it deserved.

 “It was nothing.”

 “No, I- I’m sorry, I’ve lost all sense of myself. I just needed to apologize, for that night, for everything. I acted rashly without knowing all of the details and I was a child throwing a tantrum. And then after I treated you so poorly, you still came to my rescue.”

 The longer she spoke the more incoherent her words became and she was sure she’d messed up anything all over again.  But once again, Killian was the pinnacle of kindness and good form. 

 “Emma, you had no reason to act any differently. I selfishly crashed your party and then made a cad of myself in front of your father. I’m ashamed of myself for the way I carried on that night and your actions were completely justified.”

 “They weren’t though, and I’ve been sick at myself ever since. Please forgive me.”

 “Emma, love, there’s nothing to forgive on your part.” “Then there’s nothing to forgive on yours either then.”

 He nodded.

 “But I must ask, why did you come that night?”

 “Don’t you know, Emma? It’s you. I’ve been besotten with you since the moment I met you, and with all the talk of the ball, I drove myself mad at the idea of you dancing with all of those men. I know it was stupid and selfish, but I couldn’t not go. Belle gave me the information.”

 “And should I have not sent you away, what would have happened?”

 “Emma,” he warned, but she continued. 

 “Would that dance have been the end of the evening?”

 “Emma, I’m trying my best to be a gentleman here. Please. I beg of you.” There was a pleading in his voice. Something she knew was dangerous to push at, but she couldn’t help herself. Not after all of the time she’d wasted avoiding him.

 “Would you have watched as I danced with my next partner?”

 “Yes. I would have watched with hatred in my heart towards the man holding you in his arms, and I likely would have slipped out before you could notice.”

 “And that would have been it?”

 “Aye. But I would have left wondering,” she nodded for him to continue, “what it would have been like to kiss you.”

 “And now, would you continue to wonder?” All sensibility clearly having left her head as she never would have been so forward had she had her wits about her.

 But all thoughts of her impropriety were gone as his lips met hers, ever so softly. Nothing more than a light press of his mouth to hers before he pulled back. She let out the softest of sighs before flashing him a smirk that left him beaming from ear to ear light a young school boy.

 They stayed there, in that calm little island among the land for another hour, discussing things Emma had never allowed herself to voice aloud before, an ease and understanding having formed between them. Emma told him of the true reason her father had been stationed in Alexandria. She’d also spoken of why she’d been so sullen at the idea of leaving England. It wasn’t the idea of leaving her childhood home, or her friends, but at leaving behind any chance she had at independence. 

 Two years prior, the University of London had become one of the first in the country to allow women to not only sit for exams but to earn their degrees. Emma had dreamt of becoming a solicitor, but her move to Egypt had all but assured that dream dead. Instead, she would become like every other woman she knew, marrying an eligible suitor and bearing his children, to live a dreadfully boring life. 

 Killian told her that her dream would only die if she let it. That he believed in her and that he’d yet to see her fail at anything she’d put her mind to. He encouraged her to apply to the university and to speak with her parents. That even in his limited interaction, he could see the love her father had for her and that he’d want nothing more than her happiness.

 He also told her the truth, the entire truth about the activities aboard his ship. That they had many friends that gave them safe harbor and protection from the Navy. That they ever only took items that belonged to the royals and other aristocracy. They never took from people that needed it. 

 She learned of his childhood. A drunk sot of a father and a sick mother. He and Liam joined the Navy as soon as they came of age hoping to improve their station. He spoke of Liam in the highest regards, and Emma wished she could have met him.

 They eventually were forced to leave their little oasis to join Ruby and Belle for lunch, receiving knowing looks from both of the ladies as they sat side by side for the first time, feeling a rush each time their hands brushed each other’s at the table. 

 When they parted, Killian promised to write to her as often as possible as he had no idea when he’d next be able to visit. Soon he hoped, but they both knew that her father had doubled down on his efforts to capture the elusive Captain Hook since letting him slip through his fingers at the Winter Ball. More patrols had been sent and there had even been a reward offered for information leading to his capture. He assured Emma that he knew the waters better than anyone and wouldn’t get caught but she worried just the same.

 Over the next few months, Emma and Killian exchanged letters through Belle. Their mutual friend knew of Killian’s confidants in the city that could get corresponce out by other means. From what she gathered, Killian spent a large portion of his time in Turkey, an ally of England, but not under its control and therefore having no obligation to the crown. Higher officials could more easily be bought there as well, making it a safe haven of sorts for him to hide from her father’s constant searches. 

 She wrote to him as well telling him that she had secretly applied to three universities in England, not that she expected anything to come of any of her applications when there were so few spots available and much more well connected families, while she was doing it completely alone. She wrote to him about the books she was reading as well, many of which he’d read himself, with Killian recommending more she may like.

 Emma spent most of her free time with Belle. Ruby had taken a new beau and they’d only connected in passing. Emma envied her the ability to properly court her young petty officer, even if it meant having Granny as a chaperone most of the time. 

 Belle’s research had nearly come to an end. With no results, receiving funding had been more difficult and her employer had nearly exhausted his own purse in their search for the library. There had been a few times that they’d believed themselves close, but each of those resulted in disappointment. 

 Emma dreaded the idea of Belle leaving Egypt, but if she were to be perfectly honest with herself, it was likely for the best. Incidents like the one Killian had saved her from had become all too common in the city. Reports of attacks on British men had begun to circulate, and Emma knew it was only a matter of time before venturing into the city would be impossible. She often worried about Belle. Her hired guide knew the area, but should a situation arise, she wasn’t sure where his true loyalty would lie, or if he'd be able to protect her friend, and the idea of anything happening to Belle left Emma feeling ill.

 And as it always happens, all good things did come to an end. Belle’s research was cancelled and her entire team had packed up, ready to return to London after years away. Emma spent the morning with her, helping to see to the rest of her belongings in her small apartment, making sure nothing was left behind. Ruby had managed to pry herself away from Peter long enough to join them as well. Emma had written to Killian, but given tensions everywhere, knew that it would be unlikely that he’d be able to see their friend off. 

 Not that anything between them would ever really be goodbye with their connection. In time they would find eachother again. But it was that very connection that ensured Killian was there for one last farewell lunch. They ate and despite the stories told and the laughs had, the entire meal was a somber affair, each person there realising that everything was changing and nothing would ever be the same.

 When lunch was over, they all left the brasserie one final time, exchanging their goodbyes. The woman all cried as they hugged and promised to write one another. Seeing the embrace between Belle and Killian nearly broke Emma’s heart. She knew how important they were to each other, the familial bond between them, and she knew how hard it must have been for Killian, knowing that he’d be unable to return to England to visit her. Not when he was deemed a deserter by many. She watched as he whispered something in Belle’s ear, and how Belle could only shake her head in return, too choked up for words.

 Ruby left first, having made plans with her father and Peter, hoping to seek her father’s approval. Belle left next, her ship departing shortly after, which left only Emma and Killian. They walked slowly through the market, Emma’s hand placed gently in the crook of Killian’s arm, just like any normal couple. Together, they simply enjoyed the time they had before he had to leave again. 

 They continued through the city until they’d made their way to the spot Killian had brought her to before. Just as before, he removed his jacket for her to sit on, and there they talked as they took in the sight of the sea before them. As the sun lowered, Emma knew she should be getting back before her family missed her, but she hated the idea of saying goodbye to him. 

 They waited as long as possible, until they could wait no more. But before they headed back, Killian told her that he had a gift for her. She’d expected a small jar of spices or a book like he’d brought to Belle in the past, but instead she watched as his hand rummaged with the collar of his blouse before freeing a small silver chain. She caught just the faintest glimpse of a jewel before Killian had closed her hand around the chain, the weight of it in her palm heavier than expected. 

 “This belonged to my brother, who gave it to me before he passed. He told me that it would keep me safe, just as it had him, and for all of these years it has. And now I want you to have it. To keep you safe as well when I can’t be with you.”

 “Killian, I can’t accept this. It’s too precious!”

 “Emma, love, nothing is more precious to me than you, and I couldn’t bear the thought of anything happening to you here.”

 Throwing away all sense of propriety, Emma lifted to her tiptoes, resting her hands on his chest as she did so, kissing him with all of the affection she felt in her heart. 

 Her joy was short live though as she heard a throat clear from behind her. Stunned, she turned, only to find her father staring back. She’d never seen such a look upon his face, and her blood turned to ice.

 “Emma, come here now,” he growled.

 “Daddy, please, it’s not what you think.”

 “Now!”

 Emma did as her father commanded, helpless to disobey him, but she continued to plead for Killian, telling her father that he was a good man and that she loved him. Her father baulked at the idea, telling her that she was a naive child that had been taken advantage of. He told Killian that had it not been for Emma’s presence, he would have had the man seized and chained to the stockades already. That he’d found the letters Killian had sent his daughter. David was livid that his Emma had been so irresponsible and had betrayed his trust.

 Emma wept as Killian left, unable to say anything to change her father’s mind. He parted with a promise to her that not a day would go by that he didn’t think of her. In return, her father promised that if he ever saw Killian again, he’d have him hung for treason.

 In the weeks and months that follow Emma was inconsolable. She’d lost nearly everyone that had meant anything to her. Her father kept a strict eye on her and her interactions with Ruby were limited, and only allowed under supervision. Without Belle to help her send letters, she had been completely cut off from everything.

 Most of her time was spent in a melancholy daze. Her mother tried her best to lift her daughter’s spirits, but Emma was despondent. Even when her letter from the University of London arrived informing her she had been accepted to study with them hadn’t been enough to pull her from her misery. It didn’t help that her father had become upset at learning of her intent to leave for school, just another secret she’d kept from him in his eyes.

 She moved through life as a walking ghost. 

 The climate surrounding the city has escalated as well. Many of the Europeans had fled the city in favor of Cairo where the political situation was less terse. The officers on the base had been warned to stay ever vigilant, and visits into Alexandria had been officially forbidden. 

 No one could have predicted what had come next though. A member of the Egyptian Army who went by the name of Ahmed Urabi, had sparked a revolt among the people. The whispers among the countrymen had become shouts heard from all the way across the Mediterranian. Killian knew all too well the anger dwelling among the Egyptian nationals. He’d seen first hand how the canal had run red with the blood of the men that built it long before it had with the sea. And he knew it was only a matter of time before the land became overrun with devastation. 

 He’d also heard chatter of British ships collecting in the sea, ready wage an assault on the city, and how quickly tensions could rise. Emma was in danger, and it killed him not being there to protect her, and while her father was formidable, David didn’t know the people or the city. 

 Eventually, it became too much, and his worry for Emma’s safety outweigh any consideration he gave to his own life. What was the use of avoiding the hangman’s noose with her gone? So he sailed into the heart of the beast, to the ship he knew Emma’s father commanded, allowing his ship to be boarded by British officers for the first time since Liam’s death.

 Killian pleaded with Emma’s father, telling him that a revolt was coming, but his warning came too late as the city had been taken under siege that morning. Riots had broken out all over the Alexandria, and that the British armada had orders to attack the city. It took ages of arguing between the two men before a resolution had been found. Killian was certain that the base was in danger, that it would be one of the first places attacked if it hadn’t been already. David, ever as stubborn as his daughter assured him that the base was the safest place Emma could be. It wasn’t until Killian listed all of the ways to sneak it that David realized his concerns may have merit. And it was only on Killian’s solemn word to return with Emma and Mary Margaret and turn himself in to be tried before a British court for his actions against the crown that David relented, letting him sail on towards Alexandria. Killian was sure that if not for his strict orders, David likely would have sailed right next to him. 

 When he and his crew docked at their usual spot, he found the city in near ruins already. Fires raged through the buildings, people fought in the streets, dragging expats through the narrow corridors by their clothes. Killian rushed through the city as quickly as possible, taking shortcuts wherever he could, throwing a few punches along the way. His sword found its way in the belly of a particularly large rioter at one point. Eventually he reached the base, as just as he had worried, there were already rioters beating against the building doors, tearing down everything in their path. 

 Killian pushed past them to the house he knew belonged to the highest ranking officer. Knowing that Emma and her mother were likely hiding inside, he kicked down the door, searching for them room by room, calling out her name until he heard her voice, small and weak, coming from a closet. Inside, he found Emma, her mother, and Ruby all huddled together trying to shelter themself from the chaos of the outside world. 

 With reluctance, Killian finally managed to convince Mary Margaret that she wasn’t safe there and that she needed to follow him. That he would keep them all safe. They fought their way through the pandemonium, running as fast as they could from the hoards of men screaming in the street. 

 When they reached Killian’s ship, his crew wasted no time setting sail again. They had only barely left when they heard the shots of cannon fire ring out from the other side of the city. Smoke and ashes overtook the sky as Alexandria burned before them. Killian’s first mate tended to the women aboard, making sure they had food and blankets as the ship drifted further and further to sea. 

 It was surreal for Emma, the dichotomy of the beauty she experienced from nearly that same spot as she arrived in Alexandria only the year before to the way she left it, in desolation. For hours, the ship stayed anchored away from the battle that raged on between the British and Egyptians. The booming cannons rang out through the night, and silence overtook everyone on the ship, each man and woman understanding the weight of what had happened.

 It wasn’t until morning when Killian’s crewman witnessed an Egyptian boat float out to sea with a flag of truce that everyone was able to breathe again. As promised, Killian returned Emma, Ruby, and Mary Margaret to David’s ship, awaiting his own fate at the hands of Her Majesty's Navy. 

 And whether it was exhaustion from the night before, or the gratefulness of a man whose family was safe, David didn’t immediately take Killian into custody. Instead, he had the man escorted to the Captain’s day cabin, while his family was taken to his quarters to rest. Emma was too tired to even protest, but Killian couldn’t begrudge her. She’d been through too much and no matter what fate befell him, knowing she was safe was all that mattered. David had been right before, and as much as Killian had been remiss to admit it to himself at the time, he wasn’t good enough for Emma. He couldn’t give her the life that she deserved as a man on the run, and after years of always looking over his shoulder, he was ready to accept his fate. He was just too tired to continue.

 He wasn’t sure how long he waited, likely only an hour, but it felt as if weeks had passed before David emerged, his fatigue obvious in the bags under his eyes. David gestured for him to sit at the round table in the middle of the room, before taking a seat himself.

 “I’ve looked into your record. One of the fastest promoted Lieutenants in recent history. Plenty of commendations. You were once an honorable man and I have to believe he’s still in there somewhere.”

 Killia had no idea how to respond. It was a far cry from the dress down he’d expected and deserved. So he said nothing.

 They sat in silence, each savoring the calmness of the moment. 

 “I can’t let you go, but I can’t send you to your death after you sacrificed yourself for my family. I’m at a loss for what should happen next.”

 “What I did, saving Emma wasn’t to barter my way into your good graces, or to leverage my situation. I did it because I’m in love with her. I’ve done things that I’m not proud of, and I’ve acted rashly at times, and I stand by the actions I took. But I’ve also come to see through Emma, that I wish to be a better man than I’ve been. And that begins now with me accepting the consequences of my actions, whatever they may be.”

 David barked out a laugh.

 “Yes, and that would go so well for me with my daughter.”

 “She loves you. Surely you must know that.”

 “I do.”

 “Emma carries a great deal of guilt over the end of her relationship with Neal, and the adverse effects it had on you. She holds you in the highest regard and I promise you, she didn’t enter into a courtship with me lightly.”

 David stood and walked to a small porthole where the view of the sun setting against the water was visible.

 “Is that what it was then? A courtship?”

 “You would have to ask Emma.”

 David's gaze remained fixed on the horizon as they continued to speak.

 “My daughter was accepted to a university back in England. She doesn’t know yet but she begins her courses in a month’s time. And although I know it’s what her heart truly desires, I find that I’m having a difficult time letting her go.”

 “Aye, I can imagine.” Killing couldn’t help but feel a sense of pride in Emma's accomplishment, even if it did sting to know she was leaving.

 “How did you do it? How did you let her go?”

 Killian swallowed, trying to find the words. It wasn’t that he had let her go, as much as he had let her free. 

 “It wasn’t easy for me either, but as I said before, Ilove her, and sometimes loving someone means realizing that you have to put their needs above your own.”

 David grumpled before rubbing his face with both hands. 

 “I can’t make any promises, but I will see what I can do about having your charges dismissed. No one outside of my family knows who you are. As far as the navy is concerned, you’re nothing more than a deserter.”

 “I’m grateful, but you needn’t-”

 “What I need is to know Emma has someone with her in London watching out for her. I can’t leave my post, and most of the officers back in England are terrified of Neal's father and will keep their distance out of fear of repercussions. As reluctant as I am to say this, you’re the only person I trust with her.”

 It took some doing, many favors called in, but David was able to clear Killian’s record and his time was considered served. Many of the crew members aboard Killian’s ship had been just as grateful to step back on English soil after so many years away. While none of them had verbalised it, they’d each grown homesick in their own rights. 

 Killian found honest work with Belle and her research team, translating some of the more rare manuscripts they had come across on their newest search for the Temple of Deir el-Bahri, believed to be the resting place of the only three women to rise to the position of pharaoh. 

 And over the next few years, Emma was able to finish her degree, receiving it under her new married name with David’s blessing. Her father remained in Egypt, still under banishment from Admiral Gold. Long after their daughter was born, Belle and Killian managed to decipher the exact location of Hatshepsut’s resting place, which meant returning to Egypt. Killian had been reluctant to leave, but Emma insisted, reminding him that while Belle was great with books, they needed him for translations. The dig turned out to be a once in a lifetime find, and kept growing, so much so that he’d written to Emma, devastated that he’d be unable to return home in time for christmas. 

 Which had led to a lonely Emma telling her daughter the very story in question. 

 _____________________________________

 The cocoa has cooled and the fire in the hearth long dwindled. It’s chilly in the drafty house once more, and while she briefly considers adding more wood to it, the hour is late and she really should be getting her little one to bed.

  “So Papa started the cinnamon tradition?”

 “Yes my little duck. You father introduced it to me, and he passed it on to you as well.”

 The young girl lets out an exaggerated sigh.

 “I miss him. In class we wrote to Father Christmas and I asked him to bring Papa home. Do you think he got my letter?”

 Emma’s heart breaks at the question. Her daughter is still young, too young to understand that Father Christmas is only an illusion, something told to little children to get the magic of the world alive, and that no amount of magic in the world can bring Killian home in time for Christmas morning.

 But sometimes, just as her daughter told her that evening, you only have to believe in magic for it to work, and her daughter's belief has apparently been just enough for the biggest Christmas miracle that Emma has ever witnessed. 

 Because there before them, in a freshly opened doorway just before midnight, stands Killian covered in snow from head to toe. And he isn’t alone. Shuffling into the entryway behind him is her mother and father, neither of which she’s seen since leaving Alexandria. It’s everything she can do not to cry as she rushes to hug them all. 

 Her daughter screams once she realizes what’s happening and leaps into Killian’s arms as he introduces her to her grandparents for the first time ever. They speak of David’s retirement and her parents plans to move back to London as they’ve already missed so much time together. 

 Later, when everyone is settled, Killian pulls her aside, and he reveals a small sprig of Mistletoe from his jacket pocket, kissing her with all of the passion of a man who hasn’t seen his wife in nearly seven months.

 Things may not be what they were, but this is so much better.

[janekfan]

Commitment

https://archiveofourown.org/works/26181859

The tiny printed words on the statement Jon held in his hand seemed to swim on the page as he attempted to read it for the third time in as many minutes. Throwing in the towel, he slid it back into its folder beside the scraps of research and notes Martin left behind when he finally succumbed to the flu Sasha saw fit to spread to the staff before disappearing presumably to recover in peace. A persistent headache resistant to even a staggering amount of paracetamol rested just behind his eyes and Jon removed his glasses, folding them beside the copious paperwork, and let his forehead rest on folded arms.

He was, quite frankly. Knackered.

But there was too much left unanswered to not keep working and Jon would be damned if he allowed a little exhaustion to get in the way of figuring out what the hell was going on. Martin would be back soon and hopefully so would Sasha and until then he would pick up the slack. The sound of footsteps drew his attention and he reluctantly turned his head towards the window in the door, tensing when a Tim-shaped shadow paused for a few seconds before walking on and releasing the breath he was holding in a shaky sigh.

It wasn’t a secret, Tim’s dislike of him, and rather than invite his ire, Jon opted to slog through the work from his ill assistants himself. He’d pulled all nighters before, this was no different and it wouldn’t be much longer, he was sure of it. So lost in thought, Jon didn’t notice the footsteps again until Tim’s bulk was all but blocking the light sifting through the frosted glass. Even with that barrier between them, Jon could tell he was upset, shoulders set stiff, his voice slipped through and it was like he was trying to convince himself of something. Eyes wide when the door knob began to turn, Jon scrambled to sit up straight and look presentable before Tim’s cold presence filled the small office.

“Evening, Tim.”

“Haven’t you been home?” Jon forced himself to stay calm despite the scorn in his tone. There was a time. Before.

Well, that was over now.

“Ah, uh. D’didn’t seem worth it.” Mumbled as he gestured at the piles of research, confused when myriad conflicting emotions flew across Tim’s face and settled on weary indifference.

“Why didn’t you--” Tim shook his head. “You know what. Nevermind. Work yourself into the desk.” The slamming of the door and the rattling of the glass reverberated in Jon’s skull, and he groaned, letting his head fall again.

“Night, Tim.”

Groggy, Jon swallowed around the desert in his mouth, coughing roughly into his elbow. Sleeping on his desk hadn’t been a good plan of action at all and if anything his headache was worse than before. Coffee. Tea. Whichever they had in the breakroom. And some more painkillers. He’d been foolish not to drink much of anything before and was certainly suffering for it now, staggering woozily into the rickety shelves against the wall and kissing a box of organized files goodbye as they spilled all over the floor. All he could do was blink dumbly at the new tile job he’d done, stepping carefully over the mess when he felt like he had a better grasp on which direction was up. When was the last time he’d eaten? Thankfully, with everyone either sick or avoiding him, Jon was able to take his time limping to the breakroom and preparing the tea he’d found. He added a generous spoonful of honey, feeling luxurious today, and closed his eyes against just how good the sweet, hot drink felt on his aching throat.

“You look shite.” The disdain was palpable and Jon swallowed around the clot of sorrow. He wouldn’t cry in front of him. He would not.

“Thank you, Tim.”

“Sound it too.” He couldn’t argue, instead finishing up his tea and setting about washing the mug. “Martin keeps telling me to check on you.”

“I’m doing just fine.” He braced himself on the counter.

“Clearly.” Dry.

“You can tell Martin and be on your way. I don’t want to keep you.” He met Tim’s narrowed eyes much more confidently than he felt, wishing he’d kept the mug so he’d have something to do with his hands.

“Tch.”

The day did not go up from there. Jon felt increasingly chilled, even bundled up in everything he could find. The files were still all over his floor and he couldn’t make himself care enough to do anything about it when he could barely lift his chin off his chest.

“Maybe. Maybe a, a lie down.” He took with him the bottle of water he’d been nursing (Martin would be proud and making him proud had climbed to the top of his priority list without him noticing) and the half empty bottle of paracetamol, having to lean heavily on the wall to even make it to the room that held the cot. The whole of him ached fiercely, like his joints were full of glass dust and he was stumbling through a brush fire, and by the time he arrived he had to admit that he was possibly, probably, ill. “Fan’fantastic.” Oh, he couldn’t pinpoint a time in his life when he felt this poorly. He was shaking too hard to get a grip on the cap, cursing children and their child safety, and ended up sending a handful of pills skittering across the floor. He salvaged four, swallowing them dry, and when he coughed, struggled again to open the water bottle only to spill most of it he sobbed. Frustrated, Jon felt tears spring to his eyes when faced with cleaning up the mess he’d made because all he was good for was making a mess of things and this was why he was alone because he deserved to be that way. He forced down the remaining water, scrubbed his forearm roughly against his face, and collapsed sideways, tossing and turning in increasingly vain attempts to get comfortable and only making himself nauseous. He couldn’t get up again. He didn’t want to be sick, instead leaning over the edge of the cot, Jon pressed his face to the cool tile of the floor, breath slow and measured, trying to focus on settling down. God, is this what Martin was having to go through? He should’ve checked on him. Why didn’t he think to check on him? Should. He should do that now. What if he needed help? He should help.

With numb fingers he fumbled for his phone, hissing through his teeth at the sharp stab of pain the bright screen lighting up caused. It was difficult to work the buttons with only one hand, when his contacts list, laughably small, wavered like a disturbed pond but. Each letter felt like a small miracle. But, if Martin was this poorly he shouldn’t, couldn’t be left alone.

mm artin, jut chdcking in hkw fj you ffele?

He knew he’d misspelled several things but had no more energy to contemplate trying a second time. Pressing send was already too much effort as it was and jamming his device back into the pocket he freed it from was out of the question. He wanted to wait for Martin’s response, felt the worry filling him up, choking him, but the phone slipped from his enervated fingers when his eyes slid closed and he finally fell into blissful darkness.

The notification blinked across the top of his screen and Tim ignored it for the third consecutive time, maintaining focus on the game instead of bothering with whatever Martin wanted. He’d checked on the guy and he was on his feet so job done. Martin calling however was a sight bit harder to ignore and he sighed heavily, rolling his eyes before picking up.

“Tim!” He sounded mostly back to normal at least, feeling better if the energy behind his shouting was any indication. “Tim. Are you listening to me?”

“Yeah, yeah, I’m listening.” Sort of.

“You need to find Jon. S’s’something is wrong.”

“I saw him earlier, he’s fine.” Mostly.

“Tim.” The noise over the line was a cross between frustration and anger. “Tim. He’s not. Please. I’m going to call a cab.”

“No, Martin. I’ll find him. Stay there and I’ll call you back in a tick.” Trust even Jon to cause trouble from another room. He wasn’t in the kitchen, nor was he in his office and the disorderly files littering the ground did send a pang of uneasiness through him. “Jon?” He wasn’t in the stacks and Tim began searching each hallway in earnest, finally considering that he may actually be sleeping and all but ran to storage, throwing the door wide and almost falling to his knees in shock. “J’Jon??” The pills. The water. Martin was right. Something was so, so wrong. “Jon!” When he didn’t move, Tim dropped to the floor, ignoring the medication he crushed to powder under his shoes.

He said he’d call Martin. He needed. He needed to call. 999?

Taking a deep breath and bracing himself for the worst, Tim lifted Jon’s upper body from the floor, exhaling the breath he was holding in a rush when he moaned, brow creasing. He cradled him against his knee to run his fingers through Jon’s loose, sweat-damp hair so he could see his deeply flushed face.

“You’re burning up, boss.” Murmuring absently, Tim let his hand rest on his forehead. Martin. He shifted enough to sit on the edge of the cot, Jon still halfway in his lap, completely out of it, and dialed.

“Tim?”

“You were right.” Tim sighed. “He’s down with what looks like your flu.”

“It wasn’t mine.” Barely audible muttering drifted through the speaker. “How is he?”

“I think. I could use some help here. If you’re feeling up to it.” He looked down. He had yet to remove his hand. Jon had yet to wake up. “He’s, he’s bad off.”

“Should you call A&E?” Martin’s voice went quiet at the same time the hazy brown of Jon’s eyes became visible through fluttering lashes.

“He seems to be coming awake on his own. Uh, see you in?”

“Fifteen.” And disconnected the line.

“Jon?” In response he coughed and it rattled in his narrow chest painfully.

“We, we, w’we’ll need to find a replacement.” Despite all that happened between them, Jon’s strange, slurred words made something in Tim’s chest ache and he laid his palm along the length of his feverish cheek.

“A replacement for what?” Fitfully, Jon turned his head, hiding his eyes from the light in Tim’s shirt and swallowing painfully.

“Teakettle’s.” The wheezing, struggling pull for air wasn’t good. “I’it’s gone walkabout.”

Oh dear.

“Martin’s on his way.” Thank god. “He’ll know what to do, just relax.” This was it, his brain was melting. “We need to cool you down.”

“N’no. M’already cold.” Shivering, like he had to prove it, the whine in his refusal was almost, dare he say it. Endearing. If only because this was so far on the opposite end of his usual spectrum and he was so poorly. “Tim?” Why did he have to be so talkative now?

“Yeah, boss?” Gently he eased Martin’s scarf from around his neck and for someone so oblivious of his own infatuation, Jon clearly had it bad for the man if he’d resorted to stealing Martin’s clothes for comfort.

“If you--stop.” Tim was able to bat Jon’s uncoordinated hands away from where he was working on the buttons of his jacket until the man forgot what he was doing. “If you were a beetle…” Despite himself, Tim couldn’t help but chuff. He should record this. It was gold.

“Yeah, boss?” Pressing his fumbling fingers down again, squeezing lightly.

“What would y’do with your extra legs.” When Tim laughed, easing Jon’s arms out of the sleeves, the archivist frowned so very seriously. “S’for research, Tim.” He shivered again, shaking delicately all over now. Of course there would be a sweater under here. No wonder he was boiling. “Tim?” This time he whimpered.

“Yeah, boss?” And Jon’s voice was the smallest, most broken thing.

“Don’t. I think. Think m’not well.”

“Understatement of the year, I’m afraid.” He heard his breath hitch when he tugged the sweater over his head to find him in his vest.

“Tim?”

“Yeah, boss?” To his dismay, tears slipped down his cheeks into the already sweat damp hair at his temples. Tim didn’t remember there being so much grey.

“M’sorry.” Lips pressed together in a trembling line. “M’so. So sorry.” Now wasn’t the time for this. Where was Martin? Martin who was so much better at this than he was. Who still worried about the man trembling in his lap.

“S’alright, Jon.”

“Tim?” Speak of the devil, Martin swung around the door frame, panting, having evidently run from the cab. “He looks really bad.” He unbundled himself, reaching into the bag he’d brought for a thermometer, passing it off to Tim and unpacking the rest of his supplies which included a thermos of tea. Because Martin. Soft and sure, he brushed his fingers through Jon’s flyaways, smoothing them out of his face. “I’ve brought some Lemsip. Christ, he’s so much worse than I was--what’s it say?”

“39.5. Never anything by halves.” Martin visibly relaxed.

“High, but not dangerous and he’s no doubt miserable. The medicine will help.” He knelt beside them, fixing a smile upon his face. “Hullo, Jon.”

“Y’should be resting.” He seemed confused to see him, limp and pliable when Martin switched places with Tim and knuckled away his tears.

“I will once I’ve seen to you, alright? We both will. Take these for me?” Clumsy, Jon followed his directions, even downing the tea without complaint, and Tim admired Martin’s control of their strong willed, idiot coworker, wished he still felt that easy around him. Martin was petting back his hair and Jon was struggling to stay awake, slightly cross-eyed and basically staring, besotted, at Martin’s face. “How’re you feeling?”

“N’need to.” Jon blinked hard. “Tell.”

“Hush,” he soothed, “whatever it is can wait.” But Jon shook his head, insistent.

“Queen of Egypt melted, ‘nd I’ll say that ye may love in spite of beaver hats.” The hell? Martin’s eyes went wide at his nonsensical rambling and Tim began sputtering.

“Was that part of a statement? Is he going all,” Tim wiggled his fingers for emphasis. “Spooky?”

Martin shook his head, clamping down on what appeared to be laughter as Jon finally slipped sideways into sleep.

“He just recited Keats. I am never letting him live that down.” It was Tim’s turn to laugh.

“You dunno the half of it, Marto.”

After tucking Jon in and cleaning up the mess he’d made earlier; only paracetamol, he’d probably felt ill but spilled the bottle in such a state, Martin checked his temperature again and found it lower.

“How’re you doing, Tim?” They were tidying the files Jon had knocked off his shelf earlier and even though Martin had given him an out, he found he wanted to help. He’d been scared earlier, finding him like that, and all the animosity between them unresolved made it worse. They were friends once. And like Martin said, Jon was going through things right along with them.

“Tired.”

“Thank you, for staying with him until I could get here.” Martin tapped together a neat stack of folders. “I know.” He sighed. “Well. I know.”

“He took over all your paperwork, so I owed him one.”

“Of course he did.” He began grumbling to himself about fools and their tendencies to not use their brains, compiling reports much more aggressively than before and it was Tim’s turn to shake his head because Martin.

He had it just as bad.

[androgynousblackbox]

Willing participant (NSFW, Gore, Among Us)

Impostor had killed many humans before, but never one quite like that one. One that wanted him to feel his teeth sink into them and that was adding an interesting flavor to his meal. Warning: body horror, gore.

He knew exactly what kind of risk there could potentially be by boarding the ship. Stories about alien shapeshifter that enjoyed causing chaos wherever they could have been spread around so much that everyone warned him about it before he signed up his name and then some more afterwards. None of them knew that was exactly why he signed in the first place. And why should they? He didn’t want to ge tinto their private matter and they certainly shouldn’t into his. Being inmortal and a lot more years that he looked was a struggle. One had to keep thinking up new ways to keep themselves entertained, to make the infinite road existence one worth walking over. He had tried everything he could think of, but on the way to get his life terminated by a carnivorous plant on some lonely planet that no reasonable person would enter voluntarely, he discovered something interesting. The excitement of death or extreme pain was a better rush than anything he had tried before. As he saw the plant was enjoying itself with some poor beast that found it’s way to his side of the planet, he felt... some kind of way he couldn’t completely explain, but it was very intense and he knew, right there and then, addictive. He did let himself be eaten. Over and over again, his body was turned to shread and his blood painted the floor. In more than one ocassion his head was severed and he could see his own spine dangling under him for a mere seconds before he was out. The process of regenerating even from a simple drop was the same as always, like waking up from a nap, but the death was a furious awakening that made all his year of life seem like a walking simulator with no good story to justify itself. But eventually someone else came and gunshot down the flower to get some substance from it that apparently was very expensive on the universal black market. He only found out about it after coming back and seeing his unknowing lover destroyed, the marks of some boots coming and going. He mourned for the poor flower that was only fending for itself, but soon it was time to keep going. Maybe it was for the best in the end. The universe was a vast, vast place and he had so many options to chose from. Why limit himself to one? When he boarded up the ship, where it was almost completely sure someone was not who they said they were, he was almost trembling with emotion. Someone there wanted to kill and they had no idea someone there wanted to die on a passionate storm of guts and blood, of undying passion for violence and total helplessness. Oh, it was going to be so great! He didn’t discovered the first body, someone else did, and that was a dissapointment for him. He didn’t even got to see how the alien did it! Did they got perforated by some thick, long organ the rest of the crew didn’t had? Were their mind violated by some slippery tentacles thrusting through their helmets? Did they lost their legs? Their arms? Their head? Was it quick? Was it painfully, frustratingly, achingly, carefully slow? Knowing they had already disposed of their body on the incinerator before calling to a meeting felt like a slap on the face. How dared they treat a potential work of art with such disrespect? Luckily or not, he was on the opposite side of the ship when it happened and he had various witnesses corroborating it for him, so he wasn’t even a suspect. No one was that first time around and that only made it more annoying. If at least there was someone he could follow them and see what they were up to, but apparently everyone was doing what they should and there was no notice of anything strange. Two more bodies later, he could barely contain himself. It wasn’t fair! He was there with all his members ready to be separated from his torso and his mouth wishing to chock on his own blood, and what did that silly alien do? Go after others that wouldn’t appreciate it! It was enfuriating.

But as he was stomping his way through a corridor, he could feel something was different. The lights have gone out and he was on his way to go turn them up when he knew, he knew somehow that he wasn’t alone there. He could have turned, but on the darkness it would have meant nothing unless he got them very close and not even that, because unless they did anything they would only look any other crewmate. And yet, something in his gut seemed to twist, his heart started to pound quickly and the hairs on the back of his neck stand up. It was him. He would never be able to explain how he figured out, but he was sure of it. “Oh, shoot, the light went off again!” sighed, so desperate for him to come closer, to do what they both knew exactly could happen there, quickly, please. “But the way it’s so long! I almost don’t even want to go there. Hey, buddy, it would be a shame if that impostor came around right now, right? Mmm, oh, damn, I think I let a cable fall to the ground. I hope nothing happens while I go to pick it up, ha ha!”

He bend over and shook his ass in front of the piercing eyes he could feel on him to pick nothing. Just do something already! Before he lose control. There was a sound. A step, a completely ordinary one. Then the next thing he knew something was piercing through his behind until coming out his mouth, destroying all organs on his wake and he moaned through a tentacle that wiggled in front of his nose. His legs couldn’t hold him any longer, but it was okay because he was holding him instead and couldn’t help but to hug him with the last thread of his strenght as he felt his consciouness slipping away.

He revived before anyone could discover his body and the next meeting was because they found out another one. No one there seemed surprised to see him walking through the door, but as soon he made sure he was on a space the other weren’t going since there wasn’t any task on his side, he turned to see the crewmate on a white suit following behind. “Oh, you couldn’t stay away either, did you?” said, resting against a wall. “Honey, the first one was so quick, I barely had time to feel anything. How about this time you take it easy, mmm? No one will bother us here if that is what you are afraid us.”

-- Impostor stared at him in absolute silence. He thought maybe it was a ghost, a holograms or some kind of alucination coming to the meeting room, but then everyone else acted like normal try to find him out for the other body and he had no other option but to follow along, blaming someone else that wasn’t lying but got so nervous that sounded like lying anyway so they expelled from the ship. Now they were barely a handful onboard and this guy… He had no idea what this guy was doing. Did he thought he was there for some kind of gross human activity?

Impostor knew about those acts and the disgust that inspired him were only comparable to the absolute confusion as to why human keep doing it. It was all so sticky and gross and literally nothing else but rubbing parts togehter, sometimes piercing into holes on the body, like a poor imitation of what his species could do but that was somehow pleasurable for their anatomies. The thought of doing any of that almost made him vomit the last head he ate, but more than that, he was enraged for the suggestion from this single man just on a principle matter. Did he thought this was his little cruise of adventures or something? At least the others had the decency of trying to do their task and keep everything working, but this one wouldn’t even attempt to play the part and instead was saying nonsense while adding more insult to injury by not having the courtesy of staying dead. Annoyed as he was, he walked towards the other and he could hear him contain his breath. Was a game everything for him? Didn’t he understood what just happened? What could easily happen to him again so easily? As he got closer, he started to reveal his true mouth: a long, deep line opening on the center of his abdomen as he slowly revealed his teeth.

He was waiting for the terror, for the screams or begging that had plagued each one of his executions, as predictable as all humans were. But instead of any of that, he could see the face of crewmate turning red inside his helmet and squishing his legs togther as he put his hand over his chest, but not on any matter that looked defensive or scared. “You are hungry, aren’t you, babe?” said with a gaspy voice and pressed a button under his helmet to start opening up the suit, revealing a almost transparent shirt. “Why don’t you have a bite, handsome? If you just wait between each plate, I can give you an entire buffet. So much better than go picking out those other who don’t even care about you like I do, don’t you think? Come on, you know you want to.” It was… strange chomping down on him. It wasn’t just that he didn’t fight at all not even when he was still clearly alive, but as long he still had a breath he kept saying those strange phrases that he knew what they meant, he knew what they were but still couldn’t understand, all the while emiting sounds so similar to those humans made during their gross reproductive activities that he wondered if was doing something wrong. At some point the crewmate, bleeding from the mouth, weak and about to pass out, extended a hand to him to leave a red print of hi slip over his helmet. He didn’t realized he did it until later, but he didn’t ate the head and when to see again his expression, discovered a pleasant and peaceful smile like none other of his prey ever had before. Like no one ever had in front of him in fact. He swallowed the internal organs and waited taking a couple of steps behind. If it was true what that human said, if his own mind didn’t played games with him after being alone for so long in the universe, then he had an entire buffet waiting for him and on top of that he wouldn’t even need to wait any boring meeting for it. A buffet completely willing to surrender to him, to keep serving him his favourite plates if he as so much asked for them. Impostor touched upon the bloody kiss left on his face as a littl of drool was coming out his real mouth.

[iworshipkeanureeves]

Ocean Blue Scrubs [2] (Julian Mercer x Reader)

- Part 1 -

A/N: This is probably the most innocent thing I have written so far (but wait for the part 3), and it’s full of drama, cause the reader can’t make up her mind. Also, the reader is turning out to be socially awkward and anxious, but I like her that way.

Summary: Another day at a hospital, where you and Julian try to sort your feelings out.

Warnings: death of a patient, anxiety, angst, but there are some sunny moments here, I promise.

Words: 3,1 K

You woke up with a terrible headache. It was probably the wine, but your head was also heavy with all the nagging thoughts about facing Julian at work after whatever it was that you two had shared the previous night.

Naively, you expected that everything would just go back to the way it had been before. You and Doctor Mercer were supposed to be nothing more than just colleagues, or at least not more than friends. That was what you though would be the right thing, but it was definitely not what you truly desired.

You caught yourself thinking about him, as you decided to put an extra coat of mascara today. It felt as if you were a teenager again, crushing on a boy you had met at school, except it was actually your work this time and your teenage years were over a long time ago. You were a grown-up, unsure how to feel or act in a situation like this, troubled by the combat between your brain and your heart.

------

Stepping through the front door of the hospital, you were nervously looking around for Mercer, fortunately, it was still too early for him and you just went your way. As you reached nurses’ room, you realized that it was your safe spot, since Julian would rarely go there, so you took your time enjoying a cup of morning coffee, stalling in there until it was only a couple minutes left before your work started.

It felt really stupid to be hiding from him, but you weren’t ready to face him just yet. You wanted to sort your thoughts, maybe prepare a little speech, and even though you were sure how you felt about him, you hadn’t yet decided if this relationship was good for both of you. You didn’t even know if Julian wanted something more with you, after all, it was just a kiss and you were both drunk.

Taking over night shift, you glanced at a ward corridor. To your surprise, Julian was already there visiting his patients. He seemed happy and energized, rewarding everyone with his wide, incredibly gorgeous smile. After his miserable past couple of weeks, he seemed to be back on track, and you had a feeling that you were the reason behind all of this. If so, his happiness was extremely fragile and very much dependent on you, so the pressure was on.

It was time to check the IV drips, but Julian was still in the way, and there was this little voice in the back of your head saying that you weren’t ready to face him, not yet. Stuck at your desk, you were re-sorting charts, which had already been organized more than enough, and as you began to sense suspicious stares from the fellow nurses, you decided that maybe it was better if you calmed down a little.

Your new plan was to walk around for a while, visit other floors, and hopefully, by the time you were back, Julian would be gone. The plan was going really well until you decided to take the stairs instead of an elevator, and that’s how you found out that Julian preferred stairs too.

“Hey,” he smiled stepping down and your first thought was to run. Of course you didn’t, but you felt your cheeks embarrassingly flushing as Julian came closer passing you. He turned around and halted one step below, but even this way he was taller than you, leaving your eyes leveled with his perfectly rosy lips.

“Oh, hi-i,” you stuttered, trying to look up into his eyes.

For a moment, it seemed like you both couldn’t find the right words, standing silently in an empty stairway, waiting for either one of you to make the next move.

“I had fun yesterday,” you finally spoke, as the silence was getting unbearable.

“Me to, Y/N,” Julian grinned, gently brushing his fingertips against your quivering knuckles. Then suddenly, as he decided to take you by the hand, you inadvertently flinched making him immediately let go. “Oh, I’m so sorry, it was inappropriate,” he blushed.

“No, it’s OK, but I have patients and I’m already late,” you gushed and ran upstairs without turning around to take a final look at him. You could only hear Julian mumbling something, but you were too far gone to understand it.

You hated yourself, but the nerves would always mess you up when you were around him. It probably meant something, and you knew it, you liked Julian from the moment you met him, you just couldn’t be sure if he felt the same way. Now, when it became obvious that he was actually into you, and the things were finally moving your way, you got scared that you might screw this up.

------

The day felt really long as you were constantly looking over your shoulder, checking if Julian was not somewhere around you. During lunch, you had an awkward encounter, where you just glanced at each other and exchanged subtle smiles, yet you didn’t have the guts to come up to his table. It was beginning to feel like a game.

Every time you were left alone at the nurses’ station, you would immerse yourself in dreams of what life could be, if you were actually dating Doctor Mercer. How nice it would be to wake up next to him each morning, snuggling under the sheets before getting up for breakfast, which you usually skipped when living alone. At work, you would keep your distance, of course, but then once your job was over, you could go back to your shared home and spend evenings together, making dinner, watching movies. You were certain that sex would be amazing too.

Sitting at your desk, completely sunken into one of such fantasies, you saw Julian coming your way and your mind just went blank.

“Look, I can see you’re avoiding me,” Julian sighed leaning on the desk with slight disappointment in his voice, and his dark gaze set from above you. “If you feel uncomfortable about what happened, just tell me and we’ll forget about this.”

If only he knew that you were acting this way, because you truly admired him and you were simply afraid to ruin everything by going in too fast. But how could he know if you didn’t tell him…

“I don’t want things to be weird between us, I’m sorry if I messed everything up last night,” Julian continued, as you failed to respond to his previous words. He was getting anxious, and you felt terrible for torturing him with your indecisiveness.

“Julian, look, I really enjoyed last night with you, it’s just that..,” you wanted to tell Julian everything you felt, but he wouldn’t let you finish.

“Sure, I get it,” he frowned a little, and his eyes filled with sadness that you got used to seeing over the past two weeks. He was so soft and sensitive that it made you even more attracted to him, you wanted to stand up and hug him straight away, nesting him in your embrace, but there were too many people around for you to even consider that.

“Hmm, and what is it that you get?” you started smiling, trying to show that you were positive about this, but it only left Julian really confused. You couldn’t blame him, especially after the way you had been treating him today.

“You like spending time with me, but not that much, it’s cool,” he nodded sucking in his lips, then turned around ready to leave you alone.

“No wait, Julian, that wasn’t what I was going to say,” you raised your voice a little, and only then realized that everyone could possibly hear what you had just said. Julian turned back to face you but his eyes seemed semi-dead, waiting for some final crushing revelation that you wanted to stay friends or it’s not you, it’s me situation.

“Come with me,” you said standing up, taking a pile of documents in your hand. You thought that maybe you would feel more comfortable walking somewhere more private, so you encouraged Julian to follow your way.

Once you turned to a half empty hallway, you didn’t want to keep Julian waiting any longer. “I really like you…”, you said with your eyes stuck to the ground, feeling your heart racing.

“But?” Julian asked, as he sensed that you sentence wasn’t finished yet.

“But things are going really fast and I’m a little overwhelmed,” you were proud of yourself for speaking your mind, hoping it wouldn’t upset him too much.

“Oh…” Julian was even more puzzled and he finally stopped, waiting for you to do the same. “But generally we’re good, right?” he asked still not losing his concern.

“Sure,” you grinned at him, bringing the fire back to Julian’s eyes. He seemed so inconsistent, as his emotion would change with a slight shift in conversation, maybe it was a sign that he wasn’t actually doing well.

It was strange, neither one of you knew what to do next, so you just stared and smiled at each other. As time went by, you had to hold back your anxious giggles, which were about to erupt from your throat. It kind of reminded you of that moment you shared in the stairway hours ago, just this time, your conscience was clear, you had spilled your feelings out, it was Julian’s turn to do so.

Standing still and gazing into his dark eyes, you gave Julian all this time to say something, but he didn’t. What if he didn’t feel the same way about you after all? But then how his words behind that desk could be explained? Maybe he did want to forget about yesterday?

You had to do something before allowing the nerves to take over you again, so you decided to speak first by saying something lighthearted.

“Don’t think I’m running away, but I have work to do, really,” you exhaled. “And so do you,” you then added, handing him a pile of electrocardiograms that you were carrying around in your arms.

“Y/N?” your named rolled smoothly from Julian’s tongue and you turned your head to face him again, waiting for what he was about to say.

“I like you too,” he smiled, “I just don’t want to push you if that’s how you feel. Take your time, ok?” Julian said softly and waved with his papers before going away.

Hearing those words at the corridor had put a broad smile on your face for the rest of the day. Well, at least until you met Julian again.

------

Seeing your phone almost dead, you decided to go find a charger since you were going to stay for the night shift and your battery wouldn’t last. As you got around the corner, you heard an intensive beeping, and your first instinct was to run. Bursting through the door, you only saw Julian performing intense chest compressions and a flat line in the monitor beside him. Everyone else just stood around the bed and it seemed like they had already given up.

Julian appeared to be completely obsessed with saving the patient, but it was already too late, everyone could see that, except him. The nurse next to him stood there completely appalled as Julian was indifferent to everything going on around him, ignoring every request to stop. This wasn’t going to end well and you felt like stepping in.

“Julian,” you said softly moving closer, “It’s over.”

It appeared as a miracle that once your words had reached him, Julian’s movements gradually halted and he stepped away declaring the time of death. He looked defeated and miserable, you could see his eyes almost tearing up as he rushed through the door without even looking at you.

Generally, Julian knew how to deal with it, he had learned to accept the loss of a patient over the course of his career. This time something must have been different, but you didn’t know why.

You decided it was better if you followed him. “Julian, I’m so sorry,” you were practically running after him, as he was heading towards his office. “You know it wasn’t your fault,” you tried to console him, watching Julian gathering his stuff, switching from his white coat into his jacket. “Don’t be so hard on yourself.”

Julian was completely silent. Not that he meant to ignore you, because he did give you a few heart-wrenching glances, he just didn’t say anything. He couldn’t say anything. It would have probably made him tear up, and he didn’t want to let himself go. Not in front of you.

“Julian, wait, you can’t leave like this,” you said strictly, blocking the door.

“I’m done working for today, so I’m free to go, no?” Julian stood inches away from you, and you could feel his eyes examining your face, residing on your pressed lips.

There was no choice but to let him go, you had no control over him and the last thing you wanted was to cause a scene. Stepping away, you allowed him to lock the door from the outside, and eventually, you ended up going after him, again.

Strangely, he didn’t go to his car, instead he took the path leading to the beach and curiosity got the better of you. You were persistent, leaving the hospital far behind you, and after a while it began to feel like you weren’t following him anymore, instead it was just as you were walking somewhere together. But in silence.

“Where are we going?” you finally demanded, suggesting that you weren’t planning on leaving him any time soon.

“Don’t you have a night shift?” he asked, making you realize that he must have checked your schedule in order to know this.

“No,” you lied.

“Then you’ll see” he smiled and stretched his arm, waiting for you to take his hand.

Hesitant at first, you finally gave in shyly rubbing your thumb in Julian’s palm. There was no point in turning back now, as you could already hear the waves crashing against the shore and the smell of the ocean was tickling your nose.

Surprisingly, instead of sticking to the main path, Julian made a turn and you had no idea where it was leading, you just followed his way. Soon, you learned that it was a secluded beach with a rocky shore and wooden constructions, it seemed natural and untouched, with tiny shrubs scattered in the brightly colored sand. Finally facing the vast ocean, you sucked in a deep breath. It was magnificent. No wonder why Julian wanted to visit a place like this.

Feeling the cool breeze against your skin, you slipped your palm out of Julian’s hand, crossing your arms and shrinking a little. Once he realized you were only in your scrubs, Julian quickly took his jacket off and enveloped your back in it, with his hands pressing firmly onto your shoulders. You could feel his body radiating warmth from behind and it was better than any jacket anyone could ever give you.

“There’s so much going on, it’s overwhelming,” he said against your ear, “I come here to clear my mind.”

Indeed, it was incredibly peaceful, and feeling the weight of Julian arms on your shoulders was adding a sense of security.  You could see how any trouble would go away in a place like this.

“Come on, let’s go,” he gently pushed you forward, wrapping one of his arms around your shoulders.

Going along the shoreline, you didn’t talk much. This walk, it felt like Julian was letting you into something private and intimate of his. His special place, where he would only come alone.

You had so many questions. About the patient and why it was so important to him this time, about his very recent break up, whether he was sure he was able to immerse into a new relationship so soon. Also, how were you going to deal with working together if things between you went south. But it almost felt inappropriate to ask such things now as you were a guest in his sacred space.

Finally you heard Julian’s words. “We can’t get far, you have to go back to work,” he said, “I know you have a shift, Y/N.”

It was kind of embarrassing that Julian actually knew you were willing to miss work for him. It was also sweet that he wouldn’t let you do that, he was really caring and responsible after all, it made him a wonderful doctor.

As it was time to finally turn around and you were changing sides coming face to face with each other, you noticed his gaze set on you with golden sand complementing his dark chocolate eyes. It felt like Julian could kiss you any moment now, but all he said was “We’re taking things slow, right?”

Even if you were dying to suck into Julian’s lips, you appreciated that he had listen to you, and was willing to do things your way. Nevertheless, it felt right to at least hug him now, and you snuck your hands in between Julian’s arms wrapping tightly around his core. You could hear Julian’s heart pounding against his tough chest, and the rhythm felt soothing, as you were observing glimmering horizon, held securely in his embrace.

“It was an emotive day, huh?” he mumbled, resting his chin on the top of your head as he pushed you deeper into a hug.  

“It sure was,” you agreed. It must have not been easy for him too, and you stood still with your palms slowly rubbing his back, unwilling to let Julian go. Just for a little longer.

------

Entering the hospital area, you were upset that the walk was over. You loved your job, yet now, you couldn’t help but think that it was much better when Julian was also working around. You knew it was childish to think that way, but truth to be told, Julian had taken complete control over you.

“See you on Monday,” he smiled, as you were both approaching his car.

Hearing him say Monday, it felt so far away, you knew you would be spending all weekend waiting for the day to come.

“How about a dinner tomorrow, at my place?” you suggested out of the blue.

“But you said we should take this slow, Y/N?” Julian grinned, shaking his head surprised.

“Oh yes, well, then the day after tomorrow?” you insisted with a stupid smile, bursting into giggles while taking his jacket off.

“I’ll text you,” he laughed folding the jacked in his hands, escorting you back to the hospital with his longing gaze.

--- To be continued ---

[thelittlesttimelord]

The Littlest Timelord: The Death of the Doctor Chapter 15

TITLE: The Littlest Timelord: The Death of the Doctor Chapter 15 PAIRING: No Pairing RATING: T CHAPTER: 15/? SUMMARY: The Doctor’s death is looming on the horizon and Elise is growing every day. What the Doctor doesn’t know is that he has 200 years to teach Elise all he knows. Amy, Rory, and River let Elise in on their secret, because River knows she will keep it. What will Elise do when he’s gone?

Loud music played through the speakers in the console.

It was some rock song that Elise had never heard by a human band she’d never heard of. Elise decided she didn’t like Rock n’ Roll.

Amy and Rory played darts while Elise was sitting on the stairs sketching Idris while the Doctor stood in front of the monitor.

“Forty six. Rubbishy, rubbishy, rubbish,” Amy told Rory.

Elise rolled her eyes. She’d never understand human games. She and the Doctor played football sometimes when the Ponds were sleeping and she wasn’t too tired.

“Hello? It's a double top,” Rory argued.

“Wrong side of the wire, mister.”

“You're on the oche, Red.”

The music abruptly cut off.

“Who wants fish and chips?” the Doctor asked.

Rory raised his hand. “I'll drop you both off. Take your time. Don't rush.”

“Er, and you?” Rory asked.

Elise had once again been forgotten. Maybe she needed to speak up more.

“Things to do. Things involving other things.”

“Well, we'll stay with you. We'll do the other things,” Amy said, joining the Doctor on the platform.

“Nope.”

“Whatever you're up to, I'd personally like to be a part of it.”

The Doctor looked at her apprehensively.

“What?”

An alarm went off and the TARDIS lurched.

Elise was thrown from stairs. The Doctor grabbed her before her face could slam into the console.

“Solar tsunami. Came directly from your sun. A tidal wave of radiation. Big, big, big.”

The Doctor pulled levers as he tried to direct the TARDIS.

“Oh Doctor, my tummy's going funny,” Rory moaned.

“Well, the gyrator disconnected. Target tracking is out. Assume the position!”

“What does that mean?!” Elise yelled.

“Do I what do,” Amy told her. Amy ran to the jump seat and put her head between her knees.

Elise copied her.

Rory knelt down on the platform and did the same.

The TARDIS landed and everything was quiet.

The Doctor jumped up. “Textbook landing.”

They made their way to the TARIDS doors and the Doctor threw them open. “Behold, a cockerel! Love a cockerel.”

They all stepped out.

“And underneath, a monastery. Thirteenth century.”

“Oh, we've gone all medieval,” Amy commented.

“I'm not sure about that,” Rory told her.

“Really? Medieval expert are you?”

“No, it's just that I can hear Dusty Springfield.”

There was indeed music coming from the monastery.

The Doctor knelt beside a hole with an exposed pipe. “These fissures are new. Solar tsunami sent out a huge wave of gamma particles. This is caused by a magnetic quake that occurs just before the wave hits.”

“Well, the monastery's standing,” Amy said.

The Doctor took a snowglobe out of his jacket and shook it. Elise failed to see how that helped anything. “Yeah, for now.”

“Doctor, look,” Rory told him.

“Yeah. It's a supply pipe.” The Doctor scanned it with his screwdriver. “Ceramic inner lining. Something corrosive. They're pumping something nasty off this island to the mainland.”

“My mum's a massive fan of Dusty Springfield,” Rory commented.

“Who isn't? Right, let's go. Satisfy our rabid curiosity.”

The Doctor and Amy took off for the steps leading to the monastery. Rory and Elise cautiously followed after them. The steps led to a courtyard.

“So where are these Dusty Springfield loving monks, then?” Amy asked as the Doctor scanned their surroundings.

“I think we're here. This is it.”

“Doctor, what are you talking about? We've never been here before.” Rory said.

“Hmm?”

“We came here by accident?” Amy reminded him.

The Doctor turned to face them. “Accident? Yes, I know. Accident.”

Rory reached out to touch one of the pipes, only to yank his hand back. “Ow!”

“Acid. They're pumping acid off this island. That's old stuff,” the Doctor reassured him, “Fresh acid, you wouldn't have a finger.”

Amy inspected Rory’s hand as the Doctor walked off.

“Intruder alert. Intruder alert.”

The Doctor walked back to them. “There are people coming. Well, almost.”

“Almost coming?” Amy asked.

“Almost people.”

Amy and the Doctor ran off.

“I think we should really be going,” Rory said.

Elise nodded, agreeing with him.

“Come on!” Amy yelled.

“I'm telling you. When something runs towards you, it is never for a nice reason.”

Amy grabbed onto his jacket, pulling him after her.

Elise ran to catch up with them.

They ran into a room full of people in harnesses.

“What are all these harnesses for?” Amy asked.

“The almost people?” Rory guessed.

“What are they, prisoners, or are they meditating, or what?”

“Well, at the moment they fall into the “or” what category,” the Doctor told them.

“Halt and remain calm.”

“Well, we've halted. How are we all doing on the calm front?”

A group of people, the same people in the harnesses, came running into the room. They were all brandishing spears of some kind.

“Don't move!” a man told them.

“Stay back, Jen. We don't know who they are,” another said.

“So let's ask them. Who the hell are you?” Jen asked.

“Well, I'm the Doctor, and this is Amy, Elise, and Rory, and it's all very nice, isn't it?”

“Hold up. You're all. What are you all? Like identical twins?” Amy asked them.

Two people in odd looking suits came down a set of stairs.

“This is an Alpha Grade industrial facility. Unless you work for the military or for Morpeth Jetson, you are in big trouble,” the woman said. She seemed to be in charge.

“Actually, you're in big trouble,” the Doctor said, pulling out his psychic paper.

The woman snatched it out of his hand.

“Meteorological Department? Since when?”

“Since you were hit by a solar wave.”

“Which we survived.”

“Just, by the look of it. And there's a bigger one on the way.”

“Which we'll also survive. Dicken, scan for bugs.”

“Backs against the wall. Now,” one of the men in the orange suits said.

The Doctor, Elise, Amy, and Rory did as they said.

“You're not a monastery, you're a factory. Twenty second century army-owned factory,” the Doctor said.

“You're army?” Amy asked.

Elise smirked as she remembered Amy in Churchill’s bunker.

“No, love. We're contractors, and you're trespassers,” the woman said.

“It's clear, boss,” Dicken told her.

“All right, weatherman, your ID checks out.” She held out the psychic paper as the Doctor came towards her. “If there's another solar storm, what are you going to do about it? Hand out sunblock?”

The Doctor took it from her and laughed. “I need to see your critical systems.”

“Which one?”

“You know which one.”

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

The woman, named Cleaves, led them into room with a vat full of a milky white substance.

“And there you are,” the Doctor said, wonder in his voice.

“Meet the government's worst kept secret,” Cleaves said, “The Flesh. It's fully programmable matter. In fact, it's even learning to replicate itself at the cellular level.”

“Right. Brilliant. Lost,” Amy said.

“Okay. Once a reading's been taken, we can manipulate its molecular structure into anything. Replicate a living organism down to the hairs on its chinny chin chin. Even clothes. And everything's identical. Eyes, voice…”

“Mind, soul?” the Doctor added.

Elise’s eyes met his. She narrowed them, wondering what he was up to. What was he thinking? She knew by the way he was acting that they hadn’t landed there by accident. An idea hit Elise. Was this to do with Amy? She’d seen the Doctor scanning Amy for pregnancy, but the monitor couldn’t make up its mind.

“Don't be fooled, Doctor. It acts like life but it still needs to be controlled by us, from those harnesses you saw,” Cleaves told him.

“Wait, whoa. Hold it. So, you're Flesh now?” Rory asked.

“I'm lying in a harness back in that chamber. We all are, except Jennifer here. Don't be scared. This thing, just like operating a forklift truck.”

“You said it could grow. Only living things grow,” the Doctor said.

“Moss grows. It's no more than that. This acid is so dangerous we were losing a worker every week. So now we mine the acid using these doppelgangers. Or Gangers,” Cleaves explained, “If these bodies get burnt or fall in the acid…”

“Then who the hell cares, right, Jen?” Buzzer, one of the men, asked.

“Nerve endings automatically cut off like airbags being discharged. We wake up and get a new Ganger,” Jennifer said.

Rory nodded, understanding.

“It's weird, but you get used to it,” the other man, Jimmy, commented.

“Jennifer, I want you in your Ganger. Get back to the harness,” Cleaves ordered.

Jennifer left as the Doctor scanned the Flesh.

“Hang on, what's he up to? What you up to, pal?” Buzzer asked.

“Stop it.” The Doctor jerked his hand back and pocketed his screwdriver. “Strange. It was like for a moment there it was scanning me.” He placed his hand on the surface.

“Doctor…Get back, Doctor! Leave it alone,” Cleaves told him.

He finally pulled his hand back. “I understand.”

“Doctor? Are you all right?” Amy asked.

“Incredible. You have no idea. No idea. I mean, I felt it in my mind. I reached out to it, and it to me.”

“Don't fiddle with the money, Doctor,” Cleaves said, her tone patronizing.

“How can you be so blinkered? It's alive. So alive.”

It finally dawned on Elise.

“You're piling your lives, your personalities directly into it.”

There was flash from outside and the monastery shook.

“It's the solar storm. The first waves come in pairs. Pre-shock and fore-shock. It's close,” the Doctor said.

“Buzzer, we got anything from the mainland yet?” Cleaves asked.

“No, the comms are still too jammed with radiation.”

“Okay. Then we'll keep pumping acid until the mainland says stop. Now why don't you stand back and let us impress you?”

Elise did not like Cleaves one bit.

[somethinglacking]

Shooting For Stars Chapter 3

Summary:

Hyuna Lee just started college, and while procrastinating decided to give a popular MMO called LOLOL a try. Here she will meet new friends, battle monsters, part takes in epic quests, and potentially find love!

Most of this will take place in LOLOL at the beginning.

This takes place a year/ year and a half after Seven’s good end, and the secret endings. Yoosung x OC

Chapter word count: 3603

Smut in later chapters, of course Shooting For Stars: Chapter 1 Shooting for Stars: Chapter 2 ★ ★ ★ ★ ★ ★ ★ ★ ★ ★ ★ ★ ★ ★ ★ ★ ★ ★ ★ ★ ★ ★ ★ ★ ★ ★ ★ ★ ★ ★ ★ ★

There was something strangely comforting about her new daily routine. Despite having to live off of instant ramen for a week, Hyuna didn’t regret buying her monthly subscription and a couple of the expansions for LOLOL. It’s only been 5 days leading into Saturday now since she joined the game. Without fail her new friend would either be online waiting for her or log in shortly after she did. They’d just do things about the map and chat and laugh. She was curious now of what he sounded like. It’d be nice to have a headset, but she already wasted enough of her money setting her account up for the month. It’d have to wait for her next allowance date. Also at the same time, she was nervous about chatting with a stranger over a microphone. She knew it was common for MMO players, but she couldn’t help but feel a little self cautious. 

Another thing she appreciated about Yoosung, he never asked her gender. He didn’t seem to care if she was a girl or a guy. He never got pervy with her like a few nameless avatars in the world chat would get with one another. He was respectful and it made her trust him a little more. Yoosung never mentioned her lack of microphone when they play either. A part of her wondered if he thought she was a guy. It would make sense, he treated her like one. Not that she minded. A part of her was worried he'd get weird if they ever voice chatted and he found out she was, in fact, female. 

She rinsed off and stepped out of the shower. It was Saturday and she had nowhere to be. Also, her only friend happened to be online, so it wasn’t like she was about to be invited out somewhere. It was warm for late September so she pulled on a pair of panties and an oversized t-shirt. The artist made her way to the coffeepot she had set up in her dorm and started brewing coffee. It wasn’t by any mean early, about eleven am, meaning she slept in. Yawn to herself she watched as her coffee pot made a single cup of coffee. She added three spoonfuls of sugar along with a hazelnut coffee creamer. The steam rising off her hot drink was nearly intoxicating as she moved to her computer chair. 

The computer booted up as the heel of her foot swayed her chair from side to side while she blew at the steam rising from her coffee. Sipping it carefully she watched as LOLOL loaded up and checked for updates. The newsletter popped up, which she skipped in favour of getting into the game. Soon her now super cute and classy Avatar booted up. She was Level 23 now only after a few days of playing with Yoosung. Smiling she checked her friend’s list. Unknown was online but other than that nobody seemed to be around. Frowning a little the artist when to the brewing station in the town she was in. She wanted to build her skills before even attempting the revival potions Yoosung wanted so badly. 

Hyuna opened the Wiki on her phone and quickly read all the ins and outs of potion brewing. Revival potion was basically and extra life, you use it at the beginning of the battle and once your hp became Zero you’d ‘revive’ with half a health bar. She could see how that was useful for a Tank that took the brunt of the damage. Though it only had a 5% brew success rate, and even with the craft level maxed at 99 it was a 10% craft rate. Her class gave her a brewing luck stat, but it wouldn’t help with the rarity of crafting the potion. She whistled at how difficult it was to obtain. They were missing a couple of ingredients, yet she did have a good supply of the rarer ones, the glow mushrooms. 

The avatar moved to the pot in the back room of the item store, and she began crafting very basic potions. Hyuna soon realized she would have an abundance of them. Sighing she set to work leveling up her craft skills. It didn’t take much, her avatar would keep making this one potion until supplies ran out. So she settled for opening MeTube on her phone and sipping at her warm coffee waiting for the busy work to be done within her game. She typed in LOLOL and found a tutorial for her class. Looking promising she loaded it up and learned some info and tricks about being the parties, Arche Master.

Once the fifteen-minute video was over she noticed her character had stopped brewing potions. She smiled running back into the town square. Yoosung had told her she could sell items for a better price on the trade, but she didn’t quite understand how to do that. Plus her friend wasn’t online, so what he didn’t know couldn’t hurt him. She sold her potions for probably a fraction of their worth to an NPC and ran back to the brewing station. A notification popped up and her heart fluttered, then disappointment set in to see it was only HackerGod logging in, and not Yoosung. She bit her lip making her Avatar start brewing more potions to build the skill. 

Her friend might have used the weekends to catch up on the sleep he was clearly depriving himself of during the week. Hyuna frowned wondering if he suffered from insomnia; if that was the case she hoped he was sleeping right now, and that she wouldn’t see him until later in the afternoon. She knew for a fact the boy needed all the rest he could get. While she was lost in thought worrying about the stranger she had been playing the game with a DM came in 

HackerGod: lolol

HackerGod: You low balled your potions price

HackerGod: I saw that

HackerGod: Actually, Saeran did and tattled on you

Hyuna raised an eyebrow reading the messages before her face flushed in embarrassment. 

Sapfyre: Shush!

Sapfyre: And whose Saeran?

HackerGod: Oh, he’s my brother

HackerGod: Guess you know him as UnknownUserName

HackerGod: But that’s a mouthful

Sapfyre: Oooh, I think you all were using your first names that night Yoosung tried to get us all killed. ^^;

HackerGod: Mmmhmmm~

HackerGod: Yoosung is usually a really good boy too

HackerGod: Wonder why he would take such a risk with only you in the party

HackerGod: Think he was trying to show off?

The artist read the messages. It was clear to see this person knew her new friend on a personal level. She flushed again, not sure why they were talking about Yoosung in such a weird way. Or even talking to her at all. 

Sapfyre: Yoosung’s a good boy, huh?

HackerGod: Pbffft

HackerGod: If you talk to him like that he’d die of heart failure for sure.

Sapfyre: ^^;

Sapfyre: You’re the one weirdly speaking of him.

HackerGod: So my name is Saeyoung!~

HackerGod: My wife is AhaChaCha and her name is Mi-Cha

HackerGod: >-< 

HackerGod: What’s your name?

Hyuna smiled eyeing the messages with suspicion. Clearly, this guy was trying to get information out of her. She doubted Yoosung had asked for him too, but you can never be too careful with strangers on the internet. It was odd he was introduction all of them with their first name. 

Sapfyre: It's a pleasure to meet you ^^

Sapfyre: But don’t tell me you can’t read D:

Sapfyre: My name reads Sapfyre!

There was a silence between messages, she wondered if she upset them. Chewing her lip and loaded another round of potions to brew as new messages flooded in. 

HackerGod: Haha you shy?

HackerGod: I promise you I’m not creepy ^^

HackerGod: Okay, I guess that statement made me look creepy haha

HackerGod: It’s okay if you don’t want to tell me

HackerGod: I admire your caution when dealing with strangers on the internet

HackerGod: Now only if Mi-Cha would learn some caution from you

The girl snorted as he dissed his wife so casually. 

Sapfyre: Never be too careful!

Sapfyre: Wouldn’t want someone to kidnap me and sell my organs~ 

Sapfyre: I’m quite attached to them, you could say

HackerGod: You’re funny

HackerGod: Well Yoosung is about to log in

HackerGod: Shhh don’t tell him I was talking to you

Hyuna looked as HackerGod logged out and Yoosung logged into the server. She smiled looking at his now lit up username. He was in the same town as her, maybe he did log off after her last night. She hoped so at least. 

Opening her forever long private messages with Yoosung; she messaged first

Sapfyre: I should sing a witch’s brew song as I make these potions

Sapfyre: Ahem! 

Sapfyre: Bubble and Bobble

Sapfyre: My magic stew!

Sapfyre: If you burn another potion

Sapfyre: I’ll make a commotion 

Sapfyre: ^^;;

Sapfyre: Good Morning 

SupermanYoosung★: Hahaha

SupermanYoosung★: Should I come dance around your pot?

SupermanYoosung★: Sing your witches song too?

SupermanYoosung★: Good Morning~

She smiled warmly at the messages. Her rhyming and song weren’t very good, but at least he didn’t make fun of her for it. She made her Avatar dance as the final potion finished. 

Sapfyre: Did you have a good sleep

Sapfyre: Have you eaten?

Yoosung’s Avatar loaded onto the page and he joined in with her dance. It looked silly and she couldn’t help the bubbly giggle that escaped her. This boy was something else, for sure. 

SupermanYoosung★: Are you caring for me?

SupermanYoosung★: ^^

SupermanYoosung★: I got a couple of hours of sleep and had some cereal  SupermanYoosung★: What about you Sap?

Sapfyre: I had coffee and my mandatory 6 hours of sleep.

SupermanYoosung★: D:

SupermanYoosung★: Coffee isn’t good on an empty tummy!

Sapfyre: Now who is caring for who, hmm?

SupermanYoosung★: Ahaha caught me 

SupermanYoosung★: You should at least have a piece of toast.

SupermanYoosung★: And let me sell your potions for you

Sapfyre: Which one tattled?!?!?!?!?

Sapfyre: Was it HackerGod?

Sapfyre: Or was it UnknownUseName who tattled on me!!

Sapfyre: Tell me!

Sapfyre: I’ll have my revenge! 

SupermanYoosung★: lolol

SupermanYoosung★: It was HackerGod

SupermanYoosung★: He sent me a text message with a SS of you being naughty~

Hyuna facepalmed and blushed re-reading the words, Truthfully they were harmless, but her filthy mind went to other places. 

Sapfyre: Ya well he got all creepy

Sapfyre: Scolding me

Sapfyre: Speaking weirdly about you

Sapfyre: Asking me my real name

Sapfyre: Bullying his wife

SupermanYoosung★: ……

SupermanYoosung★: He did what now!!!

SupermanYoosung★: D: 

SupermanYoosung★: What did he say!?!?! 

SupermanYoosung★: Did you tell him your name D:

A smile form on her lips. Take that you god damn tattle tale. You and your brother! An almost sadistic smirk took root on her face as she cracked her knuckles and stretched. 

Sapfyre: It’s so sad Yoosung!

Sapfyre: He can’t even read

Sapfyre: Clearly my name says Sapfyre

SupermanYoosung★: lolol

SupermanYoosung★: Good! 

SupermanYoosung★: NEVER! EVER TELL!! THAT GUY ANYTHING!!!

Sapfyre: He is such a bully!

Sapfyre: If I was a higher rank and level I’d go set his guildhall on fire

SupermanYoosung★: Looooool

SupermanYoosung★: I’d pay to see that 

SupermanYoosung★: He’s actually my best friend IRL 

SupermanYoosung★: T^T 

SupermanYoosung★: Can’t believe he got all weird on you like that.

That was an interesting development. They all knew each other outside the game then? Hyuna re-read it pondering the implication of what that HackerGod guy was trying to do. There was absolutely no way he knew she was female. They all had taken to using male pronouns for her. The safest bet, more guys than girls on the platform. Was Yoosung gay? He didn’t seem like it, but then again everyone can be something their not online.

Sapfyre: He did tell me-

Sapfyre: Maybe I shouldn’t tell you >-<

SupermanYoosung★: GAH!

SupermanYoosung★: Tell Me!

SupermanYoosung★: So I can yell at him later!

Sapfyre: It’s sooooo embarrassing 

Sapfyre: But

Sapfyre: He told me you’re usually a-

Okay so maybe she was being mean, but she paused there. Waiting for his reaction. She just couldn’t help herself, he was sooo cute so riled up like this. 

SupermanYoosung★: WHAT DID HE SAY ABOUT ME?!?!?

SupermanYoosung★: Don’t do this to me!

SupermanYoosung★: I have to know now! 

Sapfyre: T^T

Sapfyre: He said 

Sapfyre: You’re usually a good boy~

SupermanYoosung★: Eh?

SupermanYoosung★: …..

SupermanYoosung★: What the actual hell, Saeyoung… 

Sapfyre: lolololol

Sapfyre: Ya, he didn’t say anything bad about you. 

SupermanYoosung★: I swear I had a panic attack for a moment

SupermanYoosung★: He’s a prankster

SupermanYoosung★: I use to fall for his crap all the time.

Sapfyre: Well… I’d say you fell for it again

Sapfyre: Ahaha you’re kinda cute all worked up like that

SupermanYoosung★: Heh~

SupermanYoosung★: But seriously hand me your potions

SupermanYoosung★: I’ll sell them for you while you go AFK to have some toast

He left no room for argument. Heaving a sigh, she opened her inventory and started a share with Yoosung. She handed him a ton of potion’s so which he typed out his surprise. Well, she had been at it for a while, what did he expect. Hyuna then told him she’s gonna be a good and have something to eat. She left her Avatar crafting more potions while she wandered into her kitchen.

The coffee pot was turned on once again as the artist looked at what she had for food in her apartment. To say the least, it wasn’t much, but she did have some eggs, bacon, and milk. It would do. Sighing she grabbed them and set the ingredients on the counter and set to work making herself some food. 

Half an hour later and 2 cups of coffee her scrambled eggs where bacon was done. Smiling to herself pleased with her meal she went back to her computer. Her Avatar had long since stop brewing due to a lack of items. Taking a bite of her food she checked her level and clicked on Yoosung’s name. He was in a dungeon with UnknownUserName. A little disappointed, but knew it would get boring waiting for her to return. It probably took him all of 2 seconds to trade and sell her good too. Opting to leave her friend to do his own thing, and ran back to the storage and stored what she had and took out her fishing rod. After that, she headed to the lack to start fishing. 

It wasn’t much, but it was honest work she supposed. Truthfully Yoosung mentioned a farming farm where she could breed and raise livestock, but you had to be level 30 to get in. Hyuna eyed her taunting level 23. Maybe Yoosung would run a couple of dungeons with her as the day progressed. As it stood, she wouldn’t stand a chance in the level 70 dungeon him and his friend was currently crawling. 

It took her half an hour to finish her food and coffee while working on her busy work. Her fishing and cooking were going good. No one ever wanted to buy cooked fish so she felt safe just selling it to the NPC and calling it done. After that, she went to smiths and browsed today’s selection of weapons and armor. Nothing stood out, after all, she had some nifty level 30 equipment that she was waiting to equip. She just had to hang on a couple more levels. 

SupermanYoosung★: Why didn’t you tell me you were back? Sapfyre: You were busy in a dungeon with Unknown SupermanYoosung★: So??? SupermanYoosung★: We were just killing time while I waited for you! SupermanYoosung★: weren’t you bored? Sapfyre: I fished? SupermanYoosung★: I rolled my eyes sooo hard just then SupermanYoosung★: Let’s get on with today’s missions! Sapfyre: Yes Sir! SupermanYoosung★: How was your toast Sapfyre: I don’t have any bread Sapfyre: I ended up making bacon and eggs Sapfyre: I’m on coffee #4 SupermanYoosung★: You know SupermanYoosung★: I’m in this coffee making club at my school SupermanYoosung★: I’ve been practicing latte art Sapfyre: Wow Sapfyre: My schools tiny Sapfyre: Really only clubs is like a drawing, crafts, sculpting, dance, drama and things like that SupermanYoosung★: Those sound fun, you join any? Sapfyre: I started class this week. It’s my first year of college SupermanYoosung★: Wow I’m going into my third year Sapfyre: Oh you must be older than me then SupermanYoosung★: I turned 22 in March Sapfyre: I’m a baby Sapfyre: I’m only just turned 20 SupermanYoosung★: I’m so used to being the baby of my friend group SupermanYoosung★: It’s kinda nice being older than someone for once SupermanYoosung★: One of my friends is 29 nearly 30! Sapfyre: You must have a wide variety of friends Sapfyre: ^^ SupermanYoosung★: Ya! SupermanYoosung★: But the ones closest to me in age are the ones you’ve met here SupermanYoosung★: So naturally we became the closest in terms of friendship SupermanYoosung★: Though I’m pretty close to this other guy who is 26 SupermanYoosung★: What about you? SupermanYoosung★: What are your friends like? Hyuna frowned looking to the side sadly. She remembered the variety of friends she had up until high school. She was a loner now, and the idea of telling this stranger that she considered him her only friend was depressing. What was wrong with a little white lie? After all, they were only internet friends. No need to seem needy or pathetic. Sapfyre: They’re great! Sapfyre: We all kinda went our separate ways after high school Sapfyre: But we all stay in contact on social media ^^ A stray tear escaped and rolled silently down her cheek. Hyuna wiped it taking a deep breath. At least he couldn’t see her, see what a bad liar she was in actuality. SupermanYoosung★: That’s good SupermanYoosung★: Plus you’ll meet more people with the same interests as you at school! How was this guy so optimistic about literally everything! The forced smile turned genuine as she took a sip of her coffee. Sapfyre: Well I did meet you too Sapfyre: We are friends right? SupermanYoosung★: Hell ya we are! SupermanYoosung★: you almost finished? Ready to crawl a dungeon? Sapfyre: Sure! Sapfyre: Want some cooked fish? Sapfyre: I have plenty~ SupermanYoosung★: hahaha SupermanYoosung★: No thanks Sapfyre: Saying no to a gift coming from the deepest part of my heart! Sapfyre: I’m crushed Yoosung. SupermanYoosung★: Maybe I could take one fish >-> SupermanYoosung★: Just sell the rest to the NPC SupermanYoosung★: Wait! His Avatar ran over to her and offered a trade. SupermanYoosung★: I have the money from your potions! SupermanYoosung★: Here!!! Hyuna accepted her money back blinking. Okay so HackerGod hadn’t been wrong, she really did low ball herself out of some money earlier. She would really have to study the trade and sales part of the game, she couldn’t keep having Yoosung do it.  She quickly threw 99 cooked fish over to his inventory before opting out of the trade screen. Sapfyre: Thank you~ Sapfyre: Sorry to keep bothering you for something simple SupermanYoosung★: I don’t mind SupermanYoosung★: I like helping you out Sapfyre: You’re like a literal ball of sunshine! Sapfyre: Like you’re so amazing! Sapfyre: I’ll stop SupermanYoosung★: No keep going SupermanYoosung★: Don’t stop complimenting on my account Sapfyre: Oh and the ego grows. SupermanYoosung★: I think you’re pretty great too though SupermanYoosung★: And tbh it makes me happy that I can help you and teach you the game Sapfyre: Mr. Sunshine over here SupermanYoosung★: Haha Sapfyre: I’m really glad you slid into my dm’s Sapfyre: I hadn’t even been in the game for 5 minutes when you messages >-< SupermanYoosung★: Seriously? SupermanYoosung★: Well enough being mushy SupermanYoosung★: We are gonna tackle a level 20 boss a few times for its rare drop! Sapfyre: Cool beans Sapfyre: I might be able to do something! SupermanYoosung★: Whooo-Hooo SupermanYoosung★:  Progressing!! The entire day passed and stars came out while the duo played their game. Hyuna yawned rubbing her drying and strained eyes watching the avatars move about the screen together. They were headed back to guildhall where Yoosung was gonna put some items in the free to grab box in case someone in the guild needed them. The items where various monsters drop but didn’t sell for much. When she suggested putting her cooked fish in there Yoosung told her everyone would end up leaving the guild. Everyone has more cooked fish then they knew what to do with. She couldn’t help but laugh at how insulting cooked fish seemed to be to everyone on the server. SupermanYoosung★: I’ll be AFK SupermanYoosung★: I should shower >-< Sapfyre: Okay! Sapfyre: I’ll go cook more fish Sapfyre: Enjoy your shower! SupermanYoosung★: More Fish! SupermanYoosung★: Haha okay brb. More busywork it was! Heading down the street running past the busy town square she was on a mission. There was a daily field where you could harvest crops, so she decided to stop there first before heading to the fishing spot. After about half an hour, Yoosung logged back in and her heart racing in her chest. SupermanYoosung★:  Hate to do this SupermanYoosung★:  But a friend of mine showed up SupermanYoosung★:  I guess I’ll be off for the night Hyuna frowned feeling utterly disappointed. Logically she had been playing with him all day. It made sense that he would want some actual human interaction during his weekend. Smiling in defeat she replied. Sapfyre: Have fun! Sapfyre: I’ll be on tomorrow sometime Sapfyre: We can pick up where we left off then! SupermanYoosung★:  sure Thing ^^ SupermanYoosung★:  Have a good night! Sapfyre: You too~ Just like that, he was gone, and Hyuna looked around her empty apartment sighing to herself. She might as well draw or something now that she was free. Swiftly she logged out of LOLOL and grabbed her tablet.

[head-full-of-things]

‘With Great Power...’ teaser, a secret santa gift

Hey guys! I'm in @bazwillendinflames LIS2 Secret Santa.

I got the amazing Stef aka @ladyofthecreed. Your request was for wholesome Daniel and Sean on the road to Karen's comminity after ep 4, but I saw how sad you were after ep 5 and Redemption so I wanted to cheer you up, as well as all of us who got it, with something more fun.  Of course it started as fun and then I actually started writing and it also made me cry haha

The basic premise is 16 year old Daniel post Redemption, who decided to use his powers for good and becomes the superhero of Beaver Creek! This is a scene, a sneak peek if you will, from the fic. I'm posting the sneak peek here for you guys, and when the full fic comes up I'll post it here as well as on AO3.

And @bazwillendinflames thank you so much for organizing this! It's a really cool activity for the fandom. Oh and for giving me a gift fic of course

I hope you'll like it 😊

Note - before this scene Daniel saves his classmate with his powers.

-----

It was the longest, most confusing three days of Daniel’s life, as he had to wait until Tuesday, which is visitation day, to finally talk to Sean and tell him what happened. He spent them doing what he usually did—schoolwork, hanging out with Chris (who kept asking him to repeat every detail of what happened, writing it all down in his notes app), and helping his grandparents. But while usually it was more than enough to fill his days, now he found it couldn’t calm this feeling that was threatening to blow up inside of him. He saved Jason’s life. This brought him back to when he was thirteen at that school trip, when he lifted the school bus enough for it to get away from that cliff. It’s strange, when he first got these powers, on the run with Sean, he used to thinking about them as mostly as a way to destroy or attack. Sure, in his time in Haven Point Lisbeth told him it was a gift, that he was meant to do good in the world, but that woman was badshit crazy so it doesn’t really count. And after he got back to Beaver Creek, he did his best to hide them. But now he used them for good, and he really liked this feeling. 

So yeah, he couldn’t wait to tell Sean, but he also felt terrible fear washing over him every time he thought about actually telling him. How is he supposed to just go there and say: ’Hi bro, remember how you sacrificed the best years of your life so that I wouldn’t be in trouble with the law? Well funny story…’

And so he waited for Tuesday to come but also hoped it’d never come.

Time worked as usual though. The day arrived, and Daniel once again took the bus to prison. When he met Sean he kept quiet. Sean didn’t seem to notice his nervousness though, they spoke for a few minutes, about Daniel’s school life and how the big test went. Then Sean told him a joke that he heard from his cell mate Carl four days ago. He kept laughing as he was trying to tell it. Daniel thought that still laughing about a joke four days later seemed like too much. But who knows, maybe he was just too stressed at the moment to appreciate it.

He sneaked a look at the guard, who again was completely immersed in his game on the phone and not paying attention to anything that went on in front of him. This was his shot. He leaned closer to Sean and spoke quietly: “Listen, I gotta tell you something.”

Sean’s eyes lifted. “Yeah?”

He told him the events of what happened, and as he did a big smile rose on Sean’s face. Daniel expected shock or maybe fear from him, but certainty not the amused look he gave him.

“Wait… You don’t look surprised.”

“Well, we had a TV hour at the cafeteria. ’Local teen saved under mysterious circumstances. Only clue to the identity of his saviour is a drawing of a wolf found at scene.’ Dude that shot with the drawing on the floor was on loop the whole day,” he said with a laugh, keeping his voice low.

Daniel grimaced. “Oh man. So why didn’t you tell me you knew? Let me talk about the Algebra test for an hour like an idiot.”

“Look I just… Didn’t want you to feel you have to tell me. It’s your superpower after all. You’re grown now, and I know I’m not that much a main figure in your life anymore, with me being here, and....”

He frowned. “Don’t. Say. That. Ever. Do you hear me? We’re the wolf brothers remember? It’s forever. Plus you know that if it wasn’t for your help with my power back then, I wouldn’t have a clue how to control them in the first place.”

Sean gave him half a smile.

He smiled too. But he had to ask him a question, and he did, barely getting the words out of his mouth. “Sean, are you disappointed at me?”

Sean’s eyebrows went up. “What? Why?”

“I mean, you practically gave up everything in order for me to have a normal life, and here I am putting it all in danger. I mean look at what happened, I wasn’t careful enough and now I’m all over the news.”

“Why would I be? This is the most publicity a drawing of mine ever got,” he laughed, but stopped when he saw Daniel’s very not amused face. “I’m not disappointed of you Daniel, I’m proud, because you put your secret in risk to protect someone who needed help. You’re a good person.”

He let out the air he was holding.

“You know, when we were on the run and I found out you had this crazy power, I have to say I was terrified. Not of you, but… Of the responsibility, I guess. Remember when you took that hula doll from Brody? I understood then that you were looking to me on how to behave. I was so busy with keeping you alive and well taken care of that I didn’t even realise that with Dad gone, I also need to teach you those kinds of things. And with the… Added flavor of you having a power that could blow up anything in the thirty feet radius, I knew that if I fucked that up, it would have bigger consequences than when other people do a bad job raising their kids. But at the end of the day, I did a pretty good job if I can say so myself.” He smiled and let a small laugh. “And what you did yesterday? It just proves that to me even more. And it also proves to me that I made the right choice that day… At the border.”

That day at the border they almost never spoke about it, and when they did Sean always said it in a hushed, soft tone. Just hearing these words brought back the feeling—the heat on his skin from the bright sun, and the tears on his face. The sound of the sirens that didn’t fucking stop to let them think, or say goodbye properly. And more than anything, the great love he felt for Sean, that his body was almost too small to contain.

It was their last moment together alone, without an annoying person standing a few meters from them to make sure they don’t get too close. 

Sean gave up everything for him, and hearing that he doesn’t regret it… Shit he didn’t realize how much he needed to hear it until now. He felt tears stuck in his throat as he said “All this time I was so afraid Sean, that you…”

“Shh, it’s ok,” Sean said. They leaned forward so that their foreheads touched, and stayed like this for a while. While still being like this, Sean continued speaking softly, making sure the guard still doesn’t hear them. “Daniel I need you to know, that I didn’t do this for you to have a normal life. I did it for you to have your life. I knew you needed a family, a stable environment and school. A friend like Chris. I wanted you to not have to fight anymore, or use your power for me or anyone else. Only if you do it by your own choice.”

He nodded, lifting his head to look at Sean with tears in his eyes.

“I also told you that day to remember who you are. Remember? So don’t try to be what Grandma wants you to be. Don’t even try to be what I want you to be, ok enano? Be yourself.”

He let out a bitter chuckle. “I’m not even sure I know who that is anymore.”

Sean looked him straight in the eyes. “Not anymore. Yet.” When they noticed that the guard saw them being so close and lifted his sight from his phone to watch what they’re doing they separated, Sean’s sending a hand to ruffle Daniel’s hair a bit as he pulled away.

“You guys got 5 more minutes!” the guard called, and they both sighed. There was something else that he had to tell Sean, so he had to say it now. “Sean, I think I liked it. Using my…”—He had to be careful in what he says now—”Skills for good. I want to do it again.” Now that he said that he realised that, In a way, he knew this since the moment he saved Jason, or maybe somehow all these years in Beaver Creek.

Sean leaned forward. “Alright, what do you want to do then?”

“Well I’ve been thinking, maybe I could take a tour around the town once in a while, see if anybody needs help. And if they do, help them in a sneaky way so they won’t see me.”

“Like superhero patrol?” ??

He laughed. “Yeah, or something like that.” He thought about it for a second. “Man, Chris is going to freak out when he hears this. But imagine if Grandma finds out, she won’t let me leave the room for maybe… A whole year.” 

“Don’t worry, it was pretty easy for me because I know about your powers. You can count on one finger really the amount of people who even know about your power,  not to mention that you live here. As long as it stays like that you’re safe. Just… Promise me that whatever superhero shenanigans you’re doing, you’ll be more careful from now on, alright?”

They’ve had their share of promises between them on the year of their journey to Mexico. Every promise Sean made to him he tried to keep, so Daniel was going to take this promise seriously. He nodded. “I promise.”

They stood up and hugged, Daniel once again trying to take as much of Sean as he can, and as Sean went back to his cell, being led by the guard, he turned around and told him “I believe in you enano. I love you.”

“Love you bro,” he yelled back.

On his way out of the facility the sky was black but full of stars. Grandma always said that you can see the stars here in a way you simply can’t in the big city.  Karen said it was true, but you can see a lot more in the desert. But today Daniel focused on something else. As the bus got to the station and he took a seat, he spent the whole ride smiling and looking at the distant lights that he knew came from Beaver Creek, the town he was going to protect.

[nadziejastar]

One of the things I hated about KH3 was how it treated Radiant Garden. It's the most important world in the series with several plotlines running through it and an arc of its own (KH1 a ruin, KH2 rebuilding, BbS flashback to former glory) but KH3 made it cutscene-only and did the bare minimum with it story-wise, it basically became "the place that Ienzo is calling from."

Oh, I definitely agree with you there. It’s a big reason why KH3 felt like an unfinished and incomplete game to me. I actually thought the Disney worlds were great (they even had towns) and I had no major complaints about the battle system. For me, the biggest issue with the game was the lack of an overarching plot and the pathetic “resolution” to the various subplots/character arcs. I’ve heard a rumor that playtesters from 2018 said that Scala ad Caelum was a fully playable world. And there is evidence of that in the hacked data. That would have been a world entirely dedicated to advancing the story and explaining Xehanort’s past. And it was just…taken out.

After BBSV2 was cancelled, Nomura said he was going to incorporate the missing story from that game into KH3, in a condensed manner of course. The missing story would be touched on, but not explored in full detail. That is most likely what the “KH2.9″ thing was all about at the beginning. Of course, the missing story from BBSV2 was never included. I think Nomura was in quite a bind after such an important game was cancelled and the story of KH3 became quite a mess indeed. There was not enough time to come up with a solution.

Nomura said that there were models of Leon and the Fairy Godmother created, but left unused, which annoyed the developers. To me, this indicates that KH3 was rushed and a lot of stuff was cut out. I think Radiant Garden was almost certainly supposed to be a playable world as well. There was a TON of story left to resolve there. Instead of trying to resolve it, KH3 just cut Radiant Garden out entirely, like Scala ad Caelum. I thought the scene where Mickey and Riku figured out that Xehanort possessed Terra was SO awkward.

It felt so strange how any mention of Aqua’s armor and Keyblade was left out. That’s why the spot Dilan showed them was so important, after all. Mickey already knew Aqua was trapped in the Dark Realm and saved Terra. What he didn’t know was where or how it happened, or what became of Terra afterwards. If Dilan told them that the armor was found in the same spot that the amnesiac apprentice Xehanort was found, then it’s all too obvious what happened to Terra.

It seemed like the only thing anyone cared about for 90% of the game was finding enough Replicas for Roxas, Xion, and Naminé. That’s all Ienzo really did, so his scenes were just reduced to Gummiphone conversations. Vexen/Even only joined the organization as a “reserve member” to get access to the Replica project. This made NO SENSE. The organization didn’t need Even’s Replicas to fill out their ranks. If Even conveniently joined the New Organization XIII all of a sudden, they would have just used HIM as the final vessel. They wouldn’t have needed Replicas and they certainly wouldn’t have made him a reserve member. They were only one vessel short, after all.

Ienzo should have told Sora/Riku/Mickey about the armor that Xemnas would always talk to in the Chamber of Repose. And that should have started a conversation about the Chamber of Waking, where Ienzo knew Xemnas’s other “friend” was. Maybe that’s why Aqua’s armor was not mentioned. From the very beginning of KH3, Sora was supposed to know that Ventus’s heart was inside of him (Roxas had Ventus’s heart and that’s why Roxas looked like Ventus—duh) and that Ventus’s body was in the Chamber of Waking. Mickey knew that Aqua hid Ven somewhere only she would know. Sora’s job was to find a way to wake Ventus’s heart, not find him a body. But the only thing that happened in Radiant Garden was the ridiculous subplot of the characters trying to find a body for Roxas and coming up with “Replicas”.

Replicas were NOT needed. Roxas’s real body was in the Chamber of Waking, which was conveniently never mentioned by anyone. And of course, Lea would be able to tell the others that finding that place is impossible, so there was no point in looking. So, the obvious course of action would be to find Aqua first. All of this should have happened either in KH0.5 or at the very beginning of KH3. It appears that at some point, VERY late into development, the decision was made to just forget about the plot of the Xehanort Saga. That’s why most of KH3′s story was simply setting up KH4 with stuff like the Foretellers, the black box, and Subject X. All the important subplots of Radiant Garden were dropped.

Instead of showing Lea’s backstory there, they just made him go back to being Axel and Twilight Town was portrayed as his real home. This wasn’t done because it fit Lea’s character or anything. It was done because there was no time to give him a real backstory in Radiant Garden. And Saïx’s whole character arc was reduced to joining the organization so he could help Even get Roxas a Replica body. That was it. His whole character arc was thrown in the garbage. Isa wasn’t rescued from his possession or given a heartfelt reunion with Lea. All of the drama between Axel and Saïx in Days and KH2 was simply so that Saïx would feel bad in KH3 and then join the organization to get Roxas a body? Yeah, right. If anyone actually believes that, I have a bridge I’d like to sell them.

— And so, is there a possibility that the characters that appeared in that scene will be brought back in the future?

Yeah. The data that Ansem hid inside Sora is a secret related to their resurrection. When Ansem became DiZ and worked from the shadows, he did research on the heart and emotion, but he hid the conclusion of his particular findings inside Sora. There were many who thought that what was hidden was Kingdom Hearts Coded, but that’s not right. In the ending of KH coded, Naminé’s words that DiZ did something to Sora are pointing to the data that Ansem hid. We are planning to make clear the nature of that data in a future title.

The other important plot point of Radiant Garden was of course decoding Ansem’s data that he left inside of Sora. This was about the power of waking, which was supposed to be the MAIN GOAL of the plot, not Replicas. Nomura wanted to make the nature of Ansem’s data clear in a future title. The title being referred to was not KH3, it was actually KH0.5 A Fragmentary Passage.

— Speaking of the KH BbS secret cutscene, Ansem the Wise says that he hid his research results in Sora. This complies with what happens in KH Re:coded when Namine says DiZ (Ansem the Wise) has hid something inside Sora. Is that mystery remaining unsolved?

Yes. Namine added data to the Jiminy Journal in order to convey that the “pain” of those connected to Sora must be healed, but at the point in time Ansem hid the research results inside Sora, he didn’t know that. Accordingly, Ansem’s research results will become the key to healing the “pain” in the future of the story.

The data left inside of Sora was the key to healing the pain of the characters.

— Before the ending, Riku receives research data from Ansem the Wise. In the next title, will that be the key to bringing back the people who are sleeping inside Sora?You could say it’s the key. That data contains the details explaining the way to connect lost hearts.

And it was supposed to explain the way to connect lost hearts.

Secret Report 9: Ansem Code Conspectus, Excerpt 1

First, a vessel for each heart must be readied. Then, a spark of some sort is required to induce its waking. Obviously, the ideal solution is to restore each heart to its own body, but (whatever the case for the two unknown individuals) Roxas possesses no such thing. The same is true for Naminé, who we believe resides in Kairi’s heart. Still, if alternate bodies can be secured for them, all their hearts require to be awakened is that “spark"—people they cared for and who cared for them, who can show them the way home.

Most of the report about Ansem’s Code was useless nonsense about finding vessels for Roxas and Naminé. The only real important thing I saw from that report was the part about the “spark”. That’s what I think Ansem’s code was really all about. A heart simply needs a connection to awaken it. While Riku and Mickey were looking for a way to rescue Aqua from the Dark Realm, Sora was supposed to be looking for the power of waking, which was the necessary “spark” to awaken Roxas/Ventus’s heart from inside of him.

— The press release for KINGDOM HEARTS III unveiled by Square Enix discusses the search for the “Key to Return Hearts.” Is there anything you can tell us about that?

There are two possible meanings of the “key.” One of which is the “hardware” key, which opens doors - this is what keys are in general (laughs), and the other is the “light” key, that opens something else. In this case, it is currently unknown as to which type of key Sora must find. This is the main storyline of KINGDOM HEARTS III - Sora must go on an adventure to find the “key” without knowing what or where it is. But as you know, we can’t really say anything else on the subject (laughs).

That was the “Key to Return Hearts”. And that’s why Sora was travelling to the various Disney Worlds. They were NOT supposed to be useless filler. Sora was looking for some kind of clue about what kind of “spark” would be necessary to awaken Ven’s heart inside of him. That’s why he went to visit Hercules first. Hercules restored his lost powers when he rescued Meg. Then Sora went to Twilight Town, where Roxas/Ventus was from. Most of the other Disney worlds involve someone being restored to life. Rapunzel revived Eugene, Elsa revived Anna, Baymax was brought back to life, etc. These worlds were supposed to give Sora clues about the power of waking.

And what is the power of waking exactly? Well, it is NOT rewinding time to bring people back from the dead, that’s for sure. It is based on what is called “Soul Fragmentation” and “Soul Retrieval”. That is why the power of waking always involved collecting “pieces” of Sora.

And that’s why Xehanort needed to “fragment” Sora’s mind/soul before he could possess him. He became an empty vessel.

The experiments involved convincing the mind to renounce its sense of self.

In other words, dissociation. And dissociation can be induced by PAIN. The person in pain lacks self-awareness, leaving them open for possession. This is no doubt what happened to Isa, too.

Soul Retrieval is a form of healing that one is not able to perform on oneself. Someone else needs to perform this healing on you.

Soul Fragmentation is when part of your soul – that is a part of yourself – separates from the whole and retreats to a non-physical/etheric place. This can occur during periods of stress, trauma and challenge. In the shamanistic perspective, when these parts of our souls are not recovered, we can’t seem to find inner completion or wholeness.

Sometimes the soul aspect can be lost for long periods of time – even over many years, as it will stay absent until the necessary healing occurs to facilitate its safe return to the soul/body. Soul Retrieval is a deeply effective and powerful method of healing and it helps to cement your soul with love and light to empower you and make you more whole again.

As the lost soul fragment integrates you may find a deep connection with yourself and a greater sense of personal power and fulfillment. It can also enhance commitment to your Life Purpose in a way that makes sense for you and your unique gifts and talents whatever they may be.

And while it may sound kind of cheesy, the power of love is basically what is needed to perform a soul retrieval on someone. That’s why it was such a recurring theme in all of the Disney Words. The report about Ansem’s Code was found in Arendelle. And I think it was a perfect fit. An act of love can thaw a frozen heart. That’s basically what soul retrieval/the power of waking is in a nutshell. Aqua needed to dive inside of Ventus and collect all of the fragments of his soul and put them back together. The correct spark to awaken Roxas/Ventus’s heart was Aqua being threatened by Vanitas.

Axel was NOT supposed to be the one to bring Roxas back. I repeat, Roxas was not supposed to be revived by Axel. If that were the case, Roxas’s heart would have woken up at the end of KH2, when Axel sacrificed himself. But it didn’t. Lea was supposed to revive Isa, not Roxas/Ventus. Isa’s heart would have awakened during the final battle. This is why he stopped attacking Lea and he should have been the one to protect him from Xemnas. 

Then Lea would need to heal his soul which was fragmented. That’s what the entire Lea/Isa subplot was all about: healing Isa’s pain. It got NO closure and was instead discarded in favor of a poor excuse to bring Roxas back as a separate character from Ventus, which was not necessary in the slightest. Very, VERY bad storytelling. People don’t criticize KH3′s story because their expectations were too high or because Nomura is incompetent. The story was just BOTCHED. And it deserves to be called out. Fans deserved MUCH better after waiting for so long.

[headoverjojo]

Asdfgkfkdl I'm so hyped the ask box is open that I don't know where to start! How about a post vento aureo au scenario? Prosci tries to go unnoticed so gangsters won't pick on him, now that he is less intimidating because of his injuries. But one day, a smart gangster girl guesses his identity. He is wary and agressive at first, but then he realizes she is hitting on him! It doesn't has to be nsfw, but if you feel like adding some, then why not. (I'll come back with more later!!!)

Aaaaaa hiiiii 🧡🧡🧡 As always, it’s a great prompt!! And as always I went wild with 5 google docs pages. Hope you like it!~

Prosciutto has to go unnoticed but a smart gangster girl guesses his identity

(Under the cut for length!)

Prosciutto, even after so much time, couldn’t explain how the hell he managed to survive. Maybe it was his renown stubbornness what it kept him alive. Maybe fate simply decided so.

He needed months to recover. His right eye was lost, as his left leg, crushed under the train’s wheels. His right arm still gave him problems, but, at least, he managed not to lose that limb too. He was… broken. He felt useless. Even more when he heard about the Boss’ defeat and the complete destruction of his old team. He couldn’t go back to Passione, not when he and his team had fought against the actual Don. Even if it wasn’t anything personal against him and, in the end, both the Squadra Esecuzioni and Bucciarati’s team wanted to reach the same goal -oh, the utter irony of it-, he just couldn’t knock at the new Don’s door and ask a place in Passione. This wasn’t how mafia worked.

And so, as soon as he could leave the little clinic he was hidden in, Prosciutto went rogue. It was way more difficult, now that he was blocked in a wheelchair and half blind. He couldn’t fight anymore like he used to, he couldn’t move around as swiftly as before… he felt powerless. Yes, his Grateful Dead was always with him, meaning that he could still be the scaring assassin he was, but… it wasn’t the same. Now, without Pesci, Risotto, all his team… he would have faced better this pain, with them. But facing it all alone, with the knowledge that no one of them had had a proper burial… it was hard. There were days when Prosciutto seriously thought to give up. But then thoughts about what Pesci, Risotto, Sorbetto would have said to him prevented him to do it for real. He was the last member of the Squadra Esecuzioni, their legacy: he couldn’t give up. He had to live for them too.

Still, he couldn’t just go around and hoping nothing would happen to him. He had been an elite member of Passione: even if his identity, as such, was a top secret information, his name and his power were known in the streets. Every gang had at least one member killed by his Grateful Dead. A lot of people would have gladly wanted him dead, both for revenge, both to have the privilege to say they have killed one of the infamous Squadra Esecuzioni. And so, Prosciutto changed name, lived in the shadows, taking every job he could. Small, ridiculous murders, if compared to the ones he was used to execute. In any case, it was better than nothing.

He often changed city, hopping from North to South Italy. Florence, Turin, Milan, Rome, Palermo, Naples, again. He never stayed enough in a city to get accustomed, to become recognizable. He rented small flats which he left totally anonymous, without a trace of customization. Those were just empty shells.

And, right when he came back to Naples, more or less one year after the start of Don Giovanna’s reign, you stumbled in his life. You worked for Squadra Informazioni, so you had access to the most secret informations, such as the ones about the ex Squadra Esecuzioni. You were fascinated by those people and their abilities. They had faced the Don’s team… just in the end they had found out that also the Squadra wanted to kill the Boss. On Don Giovanna’s face was clear the regret and the stupor. If only they had known it…

The only one whose state was unknown was Prosciutto. You didn’t know if it was his real name: in his file there was just his name -or nickname-, the name of his stand, a brief description of its power -implemented thanks to the witnesses of the Don’s team- and a blurred photography of him. You could just see he had blond hair and wore an elegant suit, but not much more. They were top elite assassins not for anything, all in all. They were ghosts even for the same Passione.

Your curiosity won over you and you decided to search for him. As you entered home, sighing, you noticed that the flat near yours, empty ‘till the day before, wasn’t now so empty. Even if no sound escaped the one room flat, the lights on were the clear sign that someone was inside. And, as the good neighbor you were, you decided to pay a visit.

You rang the bell, waiting, humming. After a little, a low rummaging came from behind the door and, finally, it was open. Your eyes widened slightly, when you found in front of you a man on a wheelchair. His left leg wasn’t here anymore and his right eye was covered by an eyepatch. His other eye, a stunning light blue, pierced you, intense as a hawk’s one.

“Who are you?” you snapped back, hearing his voice, and you smiled, embarrassed for staring.

“I’m your neighbor, I came to say hello and welcome here! I’m Y/N. It’s a pleasure, signor…?” you trailed off, tending your hand to him. He didn’t take it, still staring at you, his only eye shadowed by golden locks -no, not golden, it was a lighter blond-.

“Rossi. Thank you. Have a good evening.” he said, briefly, before withdrawing and closing the door on your face. You blinked, surprised, before shaking your head and going back to your flat. Woah, rude…

You didn’t see your neighbor for few days. He wasn’t here, during the day -and you knew thanks to your stand- and sometimes he was out for good part of the night. He wasn’t a drunkard, or you would have heard noise from his flat, which, instead, was always silent as a grave. He almost seemed… a ghost.

This thought was what made you start to connect the dots. A ghost… he was wary and always watched his back, as a trained soldier -or as a mafioso-. He knew how to escape even from your stand’s patrol, choosing carefully the points where it couldn’t see -and this meant he was a stand user, if he could see where your stand did its patrol. Blond hair… and those injuries were strange. You had, however, to reread the whole report about the train’s fight. You couldn’t go around accusing people to be assassins without any proof.

But, when you did, your face grew paler, as you read about the injuries sustained by Prosciutto. His right eyes was lost and Bucciarati managed to crush his left leg under the train’s rails. His right arm too, but he wasn’t sure. The team left here him and his teammate, Pesci, to escape also from Passione’s cleaning squad, which always entered the game when a member of the organization was involved in a murder -both in case they were the victim or the executioner-.

The cleaning squad never found Prosciutto’s body.

Could you possibly were living next to one of the most powerful and feared assassins of all Italy?

You couldn’t live with the doubt.

And so, gaining all your courage, that evening you went to knock again at his door. You knew he was at home, after seeing the lights on. As the first time, after a little rummaging, the door opened and the blonde’s eye darkened, seeing you. Before he could even speak, however, you started.

“I know who you are.” you declared, staring at him. The man quirked his only visible brow, unimpressed, even if, inside, he was tense. How could that girl discovered him?! But maybe she was bluffing. Calm down, Prosciutto. You have the upper hand.

“I told you the first day. I’m Rossi.” he replied, with a plain tone. You frowned, not giving up. You couldn’t, not now. Meanwhile, you analyzed the man in front of you, his injuries, his face, still really pleasant despite the missing eye… you tried to imagine him with the rail of small man buns Bucciarati said he had, instead of this short hair.

“You’re Prosciutto, the last of the Squadra d’Esecuzione. You lost your limbs against Bucciarati. And your stand-” you stopped, gulping, when you saw that stand behind the man. It was even scarier of what you had imagined.

“Choose carefully your last words, little girl.” he said, in a low and dangerous voice, as the fog slowly neared you. You knew that, if he would have wanted, he could have killed you in a matter of minutes, almost as fast as Purple Haze, the Don’s Consigliere’s stand. You had to act, even if you were paralyzed by fear.

“I- I don’t want to hurt you.” you stuttered, making him bitterly laugh, as The Grateful Dead came nearer and nearer.

“Hurt me? Don’t make me laugh, little girl.” he barked, slowly nearing the wheelchair to your frozen figure. You swallowed hard, as fear clenched your stomach. You… you never found yourself in a situation like this. You always were on the backstage, thanks to your smart and quick brain you managed to enter the Squadra Informazioni… but this was totally different. Being on field was utterly terrifying.

“I’m not going to denounce you! I- I just want to know!” those words stopped him on his track. You wanted to know? What-

“Know what?” he looked around, his healthy eye darting from right to left, cautious and wary. He retired in the flat, leaving you space to enter, and you did so, following him and closing the door behind you. He didn’t fear to have you so near; on the contrary, the more you were near, the more it would have been easy to kill you in few seconds.

“About you and the Squadra. There’s so little about you all… “ you said, deciding that lying wouldn’t have brought anything good. Lying to an assassin was always a bad idea.

“More about me and the Squadra, uh? Such a strange girl…” he muttered, studying your movements, wary. You noticed that, even if he was blocked on a wheelchair, even if he seemed broken and weak, he was far from this. His body was tense, ready to attack. You suspected that he hid a knife, somewhere near his good hand.

He wasn’t someone to underestimate. Under that broken shell, he was still the assassin who hunted the nightmares of many other gangs.

“I work for Passione. But- I have no intention to reveal your location. I just want to know, for real. Nothing more.” you said, staring in his bright azure eye. He stared at you for few moments, serious and wary.

“Try to tell this to someone, and I’ll hunt you until you’ll be dust.” he said, deadly serious. You swallowed, quickly nodding: you knew he would have absolutely done it. He wasn’t one of empty promises.

“I’m not stupid.” you replied, with an annoyed tone to hide the fear that had clenched your guts. Prosciutto’s cold eye studied you for a little, before slowly nodding.

“Come here tomorrow at the same hour. We’ll talk.” he ordered, before weaving you off. You almost didn’t even register what was happening if not when you were already in the landing, his door again closed on your face. You huffed, marching back to your flat, trembling a bit from tension. It had been an… an interesting encounter…

But you went, the day after. And the one after, and so on, so on. Prosciutto was wary and suspicious, in the beginning. Of course, you thought: he was always on the run, he couldn’t be different. Still, he seemed also curious. He didn’t understand your utterly interest towards him and his team, without any double goal. You just wanted to know for the sake of knowledge.

Talking about his comrades was hard. Guilt still gripped his heart, an obvious grief was still all on him and it showed when he talked about them, even if his tone was mostly plain and neutral. Still, you weren’t stupid. You saw the pain in his traits.

Slowly, as days, weeks, months passed by, Prosciutto started to relax, around you. Maybe he was starting to trust you, after so much time. Maybe his loneliness was becoming too overwhelming and, as human, he needed some company. No man was made to live alone, all in all.

But, as he started to open up to you, he finally noticed how you acted. Because you weren’t immune to his innate charisma and charm. He emanated an incredible energy, even if his body was broken. His experience was incredible, his stories amazing. Gruesome, gory, but amazing. He was smart, intelligent. Almost without noticing, you started to flirt with him, brushing your fingers on his, softly staring at his face, using a sweeter tone, winking at him. Just when he felt safer around you he started to notice these gestures and, oh, they made him feel so flustered.

He wasn’t used to it anymore, even if, a life ago, he was the most coveted in all the city. Everyone seemed to want to have a certain dance with him and he didn’t deny it, with his usual charming smirk. But, after the accident… people watched him with pity. Oh, poor man, they thought. What a terrible accident. He didn’t want their pity, he hated it. He just wanted to be considered normal, as before the fight. And you did so.

He never saw pity in your eyes, just sincere interest. Even admiration. You didn’t see the broken man on a wheelchair, without an eye… you saw him for who he was. And, slowly, when he felt more comfortable with you around, he started to flirt back.

What were just barely brushes became touches. Flirts grew heavier and heavier, to the point that, one night, after the usual couple of hours of stories and heavy flirts, you found yourself on his lap, your hands sunk in his short blond hair and your lips on his. His hands were gripping your hips, keeping you in place, as his teeth and mouth and tongue reclaimed you, after so much time of patient waiting and hunger.

You hissed, as his teeth grazed your neck and jaw, nibbling and sucking, while his hands made their way under your shirt. You didn’t want him to stop. You wanted him to go on. And so you kept him near, your nails scratched his back and nape, tearing soft moans that went to fuel the hot pool that was growing in your low abdomen. His lips made their way to your collarbone, biting and licking, before going back to your lips, assaulting them with a deep and almost bruising kiss. You opened a little your eyes, seeing your reflection in that marine azure, feeling… good. For once you didn’t fear judgment or guilt.

Now there were just him and you in his little flat and all the world was closed behind the door.

[lightningmastertrilogy]

Path of Lightning: Origins chapter 8: Welcome to Aether.

Chapter summary: Liz and Nosaru finally meet again for the first time since their fight, months ago.

Word count: 1.8 k words.

Read chapter on wattpad.

Chapter:

Silence filled the graveyard as they both stared at each other. Nosaru was the first to move. A golden light surrounded her arm. She was about to equip her weapon until a hand grasped her wrist. She looked up and was surprised to find Liz right in front of her.

"How did you…?" She asked, surprised by the blonde's speed. It seemed like she was different from the last time they met, she seemed faster. The blonde smiled down at her, and it only made more worried and defensive.

"Relax." Liz said as she let her go. "I'm not here to fight. I want to talk." She raised both her hands, as if they were a peace sign. The blue haired girl took a step back, still wary of her.

"Then talk." Nosaru said, glaring at her.

"We're talking somewhere else. Let's not disturb the dead, 'kay?" Liz said and walked away.

Nosaru stared suspiciously but followed her anyway. "Why are you here?"

"I was looking for you. Isn't it obvious, Noobaru?" Liz said, still walking. The other girl glared at her in response.

"It's Nosaru!" Nosaru stated, getting irritated. "And why exactly are you looking for me?"

Liz stopped and turned to her, then she said in her most serious tone. "I'm interested in you." Of course she regretted her choice of words immediately as the blue haired girl looked at her blankly.

"Excuse me…?"

"NOT in THAT way!" The blonde answered quickly and raised her hands in a defensive way, feeling her panic rising. "What I meant was that you're an amazing fighter!"

"Are you going to tell me why you're really here or what?" Nosaru asked and crossed her arms.

"Alright Grumpy. I'll get to the point. You work for Aether." The demon said which made the other girl look at her with surprise and suspicion. "An organization that was founded to keep the supernatural side of the world in check. Is that right?"

"How did you know that?" The human asked, watching her carefully.

"I have my sources." Liz shrugged and smiled. "I want you to take me there. I want to be a member too." She declared. She only received a deadly glare as a response. "Does your silence mean ye-"

"No."

"Oh. Why?" She asked. She should've known it wouldn't have been that easy.

"Being a member of Aether isn't a game, and I doubt you will take the job seriously. You are a mercenary and you're dangerous." Nosaru explained. "Give me one reason to trust you."

"You spared my life that day, so that means I owe you. If I betray your trust, you can kill me." She answered. "My life is yours." She finished, playfully putting her hand on her chest.

"Do you always have such a strange choice of words?" The blue haired girl asked and raised an eyebrow.

"Yeah…" The blonde sighed in defeat.

"The answer is still no."

"Oh come on! I even brought this back to you." Liz took the pendant from around her neck, and handed it to her.

"You had it all along?" Nosaru took it and opened it, staring at her family photo. A picture that reminded her of better times, times she could never go back to… "Thanks for bringing it back…” Liz’s eyes lit up. “But the answer is still no." She said and started walking away. Of course Liz followed her anyway. Nosaru turned back to face her. This girl was growing more and more annoyed. "What are you? A stray cat?"

"Being stray is better than being grumpy like you." Liz answered, and this time, she was the one crossing her arms. "I'm going to follow you until you accept."

Nosaru just ignored her and kept walking, but no matter what, the blonde still followed her. Her being irritated was the understatement of the year. After realizing that she might follow her to her house, she decided to stop and face her.

"Aether has many skilled fighters and a fierce leader, so if you try anything, they'd get rid of you on the spot." She started, and she noticed a smug smile on the blonde's face. She ignored it and continued. "Aether's position is unknown to a lot of people. I'll lead you to it, and you will walk through the front door, but your memory of the road leading to it will be erased, and you can only go in or out with a different method. Is that fine with you?" She explained, and left out the part of her being part of the leading family. The blonde did not seem that bright anyway, so she probably wouldn't ask her why she knew how to find it.

Liz nodded, accepting the terms. As long as she was able to get in and out, it didn't matter if she knew the exact position.

With a sigh, Nosaru headed towards it, and she followed her.

She wondered what kind of place it was. Was it huge? What did it look like? What kind of people are there? Were they as powerful as Nosaru?

Some of her questions were answered when she found herself standing before a huge building surrounded by a vast garden. Some people were walking around it and sitting on benches, and she assumed that they were members. Around the garden, there was barrier that couldn't be seen by naked eyes, and it hid the building from outside. She assumed that this was a way of protecting their position and making sure that normal people don't get involved.

Nosaru nodded towards the entrance, telling her to follow her. The blonde pouted because she wanted to observe more, but she guessed she could do that later after getting accepted. She followed her into what she guessed was the leader's office.

They stood in Hiroshi's office. He was different from what Liz expected. She thought she would see a huge scary man, and because Nosaru was already terrifying, she expected the leader to be even worse.

Nosaru was definitely more terrifying.

During her train of thoughts, Nosaru explained the situation.

The man's eyes wandered between the demon and his annoyed looking daughter. "So, you want to join Aether? For what reason may I ask?" He asked, snapping the blonde from her thoughts.

"I don't really have a reason." Liz answered. "This seemed like an interesting place, and I thought that maybe it would help me find what I need."

"I see." He said, closing his eyes. After a moment of awkward silence, he opened them again and stared at her. "You're accepted."

"Wait, what?" Nosaru said. "Just like that?" His daughter questioned, confused by the quick answer.

She never understood what was going on inside her father's mind, and right she was even more confused. How could this man be the leader?

"And starting from today, you're going to be Nosaru's partner." He added.

"What?" They both blurted out this time. "You can't do that!" Nosaru said angrily. "I'm fine on my own!"

"You've been taking too many missions lately, and your performance became worse." He stated, silencing her. "Miss Liz here is the mercenary from six months ago. I am aware of that. Who could be a better partner for you than someone you fought before? She knows your fighting style."

"I am not teaming up with her!" Nosaru objected, while the blonde looked between them, awkwardly.

"This discussion is over."

Nosaru wanted to say something, but she knew it was no use. She glared at her new partner before leaving the office.

"This place isn't just for fighting, Miss Liz." He started, bringing the new member's attention to him. "Aether is a shelter for Penergy users who found themselves lost in the chaos. They don't have an easy life. The people here are a family. Sadly, my daughter isn't aware of that. She only sees this place as a place for work."

"Wait, she's your daughters?!" Liz asked surprised. Her surprise faded when she studied his serious look. "Actually… I see the similarity."

"If you are willing to accept the people here as friends and family, and if you are willing to fight for our cause, then welcome to Aether." He said with a faint smile.

"Thank you." She smiled.

Perhaps, Aether is the best place for a fresh start.

Meanwhile, Aiko walked through the halls and noticed her sister walking by with a murderous look. "Should I stop her before she kills someone?" She thought then shook her head. "Nah."

She stopped when she saw Liz leaving her father's office. She was about to dismiss her as a new member, but stopped when her eyes widened the moment she saw her energy. "Hey blondie!" She yelled.

"Huh?" Liz looked around and pointed to herself. "Me?"

"You're coming with me." She gripped her arm and dragged her outside. The blonde struggled, and freed her arm once they were there.

"What was that about?" Liz asked and rubbed her arm. Aiko's grip was deadly. She didn't even know this woman and just allowed herself to drag her. Not the best first impression.

"You're a demon." Aiko said and crossed her arms, fixing a serious look on her. She went immediately to the point without wasting time, causing Liz's eyes to widen.

This was the last thing she expected today. This was not how she was supposed to start her new life.

"What?" Liz took a step back and glared. "How did you know?"

"My ability allows me to read people's energy. You have Penergy too, so I'm guessing you are a half demon." Aiko explained. Her eye glowed for a second, to show off her powers.

"What are you going to do about that?" Liz asked, gripping her own arm. "Are you going to tell your boss?"

Aiko carefully eyed the girl, and the latter couldn't figure out what the woman was thinking. She was anxious, as she tightened her grip. They stood in silence, before the woman decided to speak.

"I could, but I won't." Aiko said. "My father might be open minded about demons, but I'd rather not risk it. I can't tell if you're trustworthy, but I guess only time can tell. I never saw you before, so I'm guessing you're a new member. I am Aiko Akina, Nice to meet you."

"I'm Liz…" Liz sighed in relief then looked at her with confusion. "Did you just say father?"

"Yes I did."

"What a weird family… I can't believe she's related to grumpy." Liz thought. She noticed Aiko's eyes focused on her with a glow in them. "Stop staring, it's rude."

"I'm reading your energy! It's amazing!" Aiko stated, clearly excited. "You have to let me study it! You're a perfect mix of humans and demons! I can help you improve your energy use if you let me! I'm a genius in this field."

She didn't know if she could trust this woman, but if she didn't, she might turn against her. Besides, this might be the perfect opportunity to learn more about her powers. She did not have much of a choice anyway, so she accepted.

"I guess you got yourself a deal."

"Great! Then how about I show you around?" Aiko asked with a smile.

Next chapter: Welcome to Aether part 2.

[ko-fanatic]

Horrifying Martyrdom

For day two of @kyokao-week: Horror/Mystery 

Rating: Mature

Pairing: KyoKao

Summary: It was no secret that Kyoya was sick. His thin frame attested it, so pale and tired, and what ghoul is those things if not sick or injured? It's fair to say that Kaoru didn't expect this...

Warning: Anorexia, auto-cannibalism, blood and gore, eye trauma, guro kink

A/N: While this would probably be okay to read as a stand-alone, it's probably best if you go and read my other fic, Blue Blood Tastes the Same, first. 

Kaoru wasn’t sure what led up to this.

Well, that was a lie. He knew full well, but the issue was that he hated to think about it; hated knowing that Kyoya was so thin and delicate for a reason. Because what ghoul starves themself? It doesn’t make sense, especially for those in the position they were. If they chose, they didn’t have to hunt or see the poor unfortunate who’d be that night’s dinner. They could be as removed from it all as they wanted and didn’t have to worry about anything other than eating what was provided.

But there had always been something off about the Ootori boys, according to the gossips who whispered amongst their friends. Picky eaters, strange habits, small meals. A delicate constitution. Kyoya was by far the worst, but the story always changed when he was asked. He didn’t like others watching him eat, he felt like his favourite cuts would cause something of a stir (that got a laugh, at least), he just wasn’t hungry, he was sick.

Yoshio seemed to stick to the excuse that his son was ill, the older ladies of their standing – the ones who weren’t ghouls – cooing over him and treating him like a china doll. In a sense, standing outside the bathroom door now, Kyoya having locked himself inside… The man wasn’t wrong. But he had a feeling, an instinctual pull at his gut, that told him it wasn’t the whole truth.

His knuckles rapped lightly against the door, hoping Kyoya would at least acknowledge him despite the gagging and stuttering breaths he could hear within. He saw Kyoya’s eyes briefly as he rushed into the restroom; wide, beautiful, bleeding into stunning black and crimson as he ran.

“Are you alright in there?” He inquired, pressing up against the solid wood as if this were some sort of video game, and he could magically glitch through to the other side.

He swore he could hear gasps of pain added to the mix, hissed through gritted teeth, and it scared him. Should he call Yoshio? One of Kyoya’s brothers? They were doctors, after all, and probably knew what the hell was going on with him. He was only supposed to be there to discuss the new menu, but that was when things took a turn for the worst and now –

Oh. Oh God, that couldn’t be it, could it? All that talk of food, flavours, textures… Something hollowed in the pit of his abdomen, some organs falling into the wrong places and twisting into knots. Especially when he only heard Kyoya’s unsteady breathing grow harder. More laboured. He futilely grabbed the door handle, twisting and hoping and wishing that it would unlock and put his mind more at ease, but it obviously didn’t.

“Don’t come in…” Came a quiet voice – a defeated plea – from beyond the door. It was broken, but calmer. Not quite as forced, but it was still tinged with the aftershocks of desperation and pain –

And it made his heart break, if just a little bit. Or a lot, if he was honest with himself. The manager and chef of a ghoul restaurant, it almost made him laugh. Cheesy. But the situation called for much more tact than that.

“I have to Kyoya,” He began, voice as soft as cotton in hopes of softening the next words from his lips, “I’m worried. Can you let me in?”

“You don’t want to see,” The reply came, quiet but all too rushed, “I’ll be fine. I’m a ghoul, remember? It’ll be o –”

“With some kind of illness no one else seems to know about,” He argued, forehead falling against the door, “I… I don’t know what’s going on. I can’t just hum ‘see you later’ and walk out the door like that. At least let me make sure… for my own sake, at least…”

There was a silence. It seemed to stretch on for eternity, Kaoru debating what the best course of action would be if he was ignored. He could kick the door in, but he could easily hurt Kyoya if he did that, and he didn’t want to make things worse than they were.

“… It’s ugly…”

Kaoru almost laughed at that, out of relief at hearing Kyoya’s voice more than anything. “That’s not going to bother me,” He promised, “Besides, as if someone like you could ever be anything less than beautiful.”

Was that too much? Probably. However, rather than overthinking that little (or, not so little) indulgence into his crush, he was greeted with the lock clicking off. Kyoya didn’t open the door, but at least he granted Kaoru access, and he took advantage before the other boy could change his mind.

Blood.

Blood everywhere.

The first thing he found was the previously white tile stained almost completely red. It was the first thing that drew his eye, and the sense of calm he’d gained dissipated instantly. How could anyone, especially a person as frail as Kyoya, bleed so much.

There he was, drenched in his own blood and curled into the corner of the room. The sight was something that should have disgusted him, but he only felt sorry for the broken boy, with some inappropriate lust thrown into the mix for an extra layer of wrong. One red and black eye stared back, the other replaced with a grotesque, delicious injury.

“K-Kyoya…” He gasped, rushing in and nearly crashing to his knees beside the other boy. One beautiful eye was teary and raw around Kyoya’s long lashes, the other gouged out and missing. He could see the white bone of the eye socket, muscle tissue and lipids almost seeming to bubble inside; his body trying and failing to heal itself. It wasn’t dark or cavernous – not what you’d immediately think – and he had to will his own eyes to stay hazel, “What happened to your eye?”

He placed his hand on Kyoya’s trembling, bony shoulder; scapula protruding beneath his hand like wings attempting to sprout and escape his thin flesh. Kyoya Ootori, crying his one eye out on the bathroom floor. Despite his frail appearance, he still had a lot of dignity, so he doubted anyone would truly believe this unless they were witnessing it for themselves.

“I ate it.”

The admission was so quiet, steeped in shame. Because even fewer ghouls eat themselves.

“I was just so hungry, I couldn’t stop myself,” He laughed, high and bitter and jarring, causing Kaoru to flinch, “I hate eating, but I was starving and it tasted so good. Eyes are so delicious, letting them burst on your tongue and slip down your throat… feels amazing. But it’s okay, I’m in control again, I’m not some sort of uncontrollable beast like she was –”

“Whoa, whoa, whoa,” Kaoru cut in, disturbed by his senpai’s almost manic ranting, “You don’t like eating? Is that… all this is? Kyoya, why? Can’t you see what you’re doing to yourself –”

“Of course, but I don’t care!” Kyoya snapped, “I can’t be a binger. It’s proof that I have the self-control she didn’t! I’m a monster, we’re monsters, but at least I’m trying!”

“Who… who are you even talking about?” Kaoru had to restart that sentence, something indignant at the thought of being called a monster by a fellow ghoul, but he forced the irrational emotion from him. Kyoya called himself a monster, first and foremost, and it wouldn’t help to get angry. If anything, that would just discourage Kyoya telling him the truth about all this.

As he calmed, Kyoya lost the fight he’d clawed back, his remaining eyelid looking heavy and his shoulders slack. “You must know… Everyone knows. I can see it when they look at me. They’re waiting for me to gorge myself like my mother did…”

Oh. He should have known.

Really, he couldn’t say the Hitachiins really gave a shit about what Kyoya’s mother did, because she wasn’t that important. She was the disgrace you don’t mention if you’re polite. His own mother thought that lording her binge eating around as if that somehow made her better than everyone else was… distasteful. However, it’s not like they talked about it. Kaoru had honestly half-forgotten, only remembering when Kyoya said that. The reason why he didn’t eat. Kaoru would be lying if he said his heart didn’t break for this small, fragile boy who hid behind a powerful aura and iron will.

Kyoya was strong, and this didn’t change that. For a ghoul to pointedly ignore their hunger for as long as Kyoya did takes willpower. It’s painful, maddening, and this had been Kyoya’s life for years.

“What does it matter if they think that?” He inquired, shifting a little closer. He could feel the squelch of his blood-saturated trousers beneath his knees, but he didn’t particularly care. He touched their foreheads together, gazing into Kyoya’s remaining, pretty eye, “They don’t, but even so. It’s none of their business, and it’s more important to be healthy. You’re sick, Kyoya. Very sick.”

“We’re all sick,” He answered, and Kaoru was unsurprised. You can’t undo years of damage in a couple minutes, after all, even if that did kind of hurt.

He just nodded, standing to riffle through the cabinets. “Do you have a first aid kit in here?” He inquired, “Or at least some bandages?”

They’re in the small shelving unit beside the sink. Not that Kyoya’s room is at all dusty – but he expected more signs of stagnation within the supplies within the kit. A lotion or ointment out of date, perhaps. The issue is that it seems perfectly well-stocked, and while it does make sense for the son of a doctor, it makes him worry. If Kyoya took a bite out of himself today, it’s logical to think he’s done it before.

Instead of ruminating on that, he returns to his knees beside the boy, gently pressing a gauze pad to the empty eye socket and proceeding to carefully wrap the bandages around it. It seemed Kyoya was so desperate and reckless to eat anything that he also tore off his eyelid. Probably gulped it down with the rest, and he hates the arousal he can feel in his gut.

By the time he’s at the end of the bandage, Kyoya has thick layers of fabric obscuring his exposed eye socket and wrapped around his head, in the hopes of keeping it all in place. His black hair is sticking up over the white layers, and poking in between in places, and the image is somehow so adorable that he almost audibly coos. While there’s no way Kyoya can take him physically, he wouldn’t dare, if only because that would break whatever odd spell they’re currently under.

Instead, he slides an arm under Kyoya’s sharp knees and around those budding angel wings and lifts him in a princess carry. He’s so light – must be under a hundred pounds, surely, even at his height – and it’s worrying. The thin silver lining, however, is how Kyoya just nuzzles into the nape of his neck, arms looping around his shoulders.

He’ll get him some actual food soon, but for now, he places him down on that large, soft bed and snuggles up to Kyoya. He holds him like a porcelain doll, not wanting to bruise him, and pressed kisses to the skin behind the other boy’s ear until he hears the quiet snuffles and snores.

Then, he can rest. Nothing will change in a few hours, and they’ll be better prepared for the talk they have to have. But for now, he’ll sleep, curled up with his beautiful angel.

[britesparc]

Weekend Top Ten #399

Top Ten Skeletons

It’s Halloween! Wooooooo! Spooky noises! Pretend cobwebs! Too many sweets! Bwahahahaha!

Anyway, now that’s out of the way, on with the list. Dead simple this weekend. Basically, coz it’s Halloween next week, I wanted to do something vaguely ghoulish. And what could be more ghoulish than a skeleton? It’s like a skinnier version of you without all the juices or wobbly bits.

Are skeletons scary? I guess if you saw one ambulating its way towards you then yes, yes they are. But they don’t quite hit the gory heights of zombies, ghosts, or demons when it comes to putting the willies up people (also, technically, none of them even have willies). You can cover them with blood, pus, and bits of rotten flesh, but the more you do then the blurrier the line becomes between zombie and skeleton. It’s for this reason that I’ve excluded the likes of the Cryptkeeper, or Iron Maiden’s Eddie; for me, they’re both too raggedy of skin to be classed as a straight-up skellington.

I take this stuff very seriously.

So, what we have here is a list of ten bone-bags, minus any soppy organs (okay, technically, a few of them appear to have eyes). They run the gamut from sublime to ridiculous, from scary to, well, children’s preschool picture books. They are my favourite set of stiffs, out and about without their wet bits.

Enjoy – if you dare!

Jack Skellington (The Nightmare Before Christmas, 1993): I mean, come on; if we’re talking about skeletons at Halloween we have to talk about the Pumpkin King. He’s literally royalty. Delightfully skinny and bony, he’s a tortured, poetic soul who loves to bring joy and also make you wee yourself a bit. Has a ghost dog. Can take off his head to recite Shakespearean quotation. And marks a disturbing trend of skeletons with faces that look, well, like a normal head with a skull painted on.

Big Skeleton, Little Skeleton, and Dog Skeleton (Funnybones, Janet & Allan Ahlberg, 1980): cheating a bit by including three characters – and already we’re onto our second dead dog mention – but these two dudes and their hound (are they father and son? Brothers? Lovers?) know how to party. They live (or, well – anyway…) to scare, and if they can’t find anyone down a dark, dark street or some dark, dark stairs, they’ll just straight up scare each other. No messing.

Manuel Calavera (Grim Fandango, 1998): our second dubious skull-face, but at least Manny has the excuse that he’s all Día de Muertos-ed up. A wonderfully multifaceted character – part hero, part patsy, sometime Grim Reaper – in a delightfully art deco vision of the afterlife, he’s a joy to inhabit and spend some time with.

Skeleton (SuperTed, 1982): I’m not sure if Skeleton was a fixture in the original SuperTed books, but regardless, he just couldn’t be the same without Melvyn Hayes’ voice work (apologies to the original Welsh actor). Partly it’s the delightfully bonkers premise that appeals – for some reason this teddy bear has, for his villains, a literal cowboy, a fat explorer, and, well, the campest skeleton in all of fiction – but, regardless, Skeleton (for that is he) is a delight, from his shiny round head to his bright pink slippers.

The Children of the Hydra’s Teeth (Jason and the Argonauts, 1963): long before dinosaurs broke from their paddocks, spaceships blew up the White House, or Marvel decided to cast middle-aged men as twenty-year-olds, the most impressive special effect was Ray Harryhausen’s sublime, wonderful, joyous depiction of an army of skeletons rising from the ground to fight real-life human actors. A simply stunning feat of stop-motion, the skeletons imbued with exquisite characterisation, and the choreography just spot-on. Really quite creepy when you’re a kid, too.

Murray the Invincible Demonic Skull (The Curse of Money Island, 1997): our second LucasArts adventure game character, and another one that I guess is technically a cheat. Because Murray is literally just a skull. Does that count as a skeleton? Well it’s certainly a bit of a skeleton, so I’m allowing it. Because Murray is very funny: one part vengeful demonic undead pirate, one part grumpy doorstop. You can pick him up and carry him about! He talks to you! He’s so cool.

Archie the Skeleton (Scotch commercials, 1980s): This is the way it’s going to be, with Scotch’s lifetime guarantee… he’s a well-to-do skeleton with a collar and tie (and slippers again, if I remember rightly) who just wants to tell you about how long Scotch VHS tapes will last. A staple of ‘80s adverts, with a nice design and voice, and it was always good fun to watch stop-motion animation during an ad break. Re-record not fade away, re-record not fade away…

T-800 (The Terminator, 1984): whilst we all obviously think of the Terminator as Arnold Schwarzenegger, I’m raising a glass here to what’s on the inside. The moment when that mechanical endoskeleton emerges from the burning truck, striding through the fire, is simply terrifying, revealing for the first time the inhuman monstrosity that pursues our heroes. It’s vaguely human-shaped in its orientation, but also unquestionably mechanical, with servos and pistons and its glowing red eyes. All capped off, creepily enough, with human teeth. It’s a movie monster, and despite being made of metal, it still counts as a skeleton, so there.

Héctor Rivera (Coco, 2017): one of those characters who starts out like a scoundrel but reveals a heart of gold, Héctor is a great Pixar creation, lovingly brought to vocal life by Gael García Bernal, which is ironic coz he’s dead. Comic relief, guide to a strange new world, best friend-slash-big brother to main character Miguel, Héctor reveals tragic hidden depths as his backstory is uncovered, becoming a hero and inspiring one of the biggest tear-jerking moments in Pixar history (which, let’s face it, is really saying something).

Bones (Quake III Arena, 1999): sometimes in this list I’ve picked characters who generate a real emotional connection, like Manny or Héctor. Sometimes I’ve picked ones who cast visceral, terrifying imagery, like the Terminator or the Hydra’s Teeth. But sometimes you just want to look at a skeleton running round with a bloody big rocket launcher, leaping through the air and shooting dudes in the face. Bones was always a great character to see in Quake III because, well, he’s just a skeleton. Nowt fancy about him. I don’t remember his backstory, such as it was. I don’t remember if there was any tactical advantage to playing as him, if his hit box was smaller or anything. He’s just, well, a skeleton. Running around. Shooting people. And sometimes that’s all you want.

So. That’s it. Oh yeah – no Skeletor. That should be obvious; he’s not a skeleton. He’s got a skull face, but the rest of his body is totally ripped (and blue, natch). He’s just some dude who is alive but who’s got a skull for a face. I mean, yeah, sure, that’s pretty badass, but he’s most clearly not a skeleton.

Also: Death. I had Death on the list for a long time, but really the fact that he’s more of a metaphysical concept than a character dissuaded me (I’ve not read enough Discworld to specifically call out that iteration, for instance). But, for what it’s worth, as simple imagery goes, I do love a skeletal Grim Reaper, especially if he’s allowed some kind of characterisation that runs counter to his appearance.

Anyway, happy Halloween! Cue the music! “This is Halloween, this is Halloween…”

[lafiametta]

Read Me Like an Open Book  ~ Chapter 6

In which old photographs are found, a meal is shared, and a brunch outing planned. This installment of Henry and John’s tale features some additional Terror cameos (I couldn’t resist), and is also a little gift for @puella-peanut, who has been such a wonderfully supportive (and vocal!) reader of this story so far. And, as always, you can read it all from the beginning on AO3…

He hadn’t ever really noticed the box before.

But there it was, small and plain, sitting unobtrusively along one of the shelves in the living room, and Henry couldn’t help but wonder what was inside it. He had only come in to change the music playing on the stereo: John had been in the mood for something more upbeat, with vocals – maybe some Ella Fitzgerald, he had said – but was in no state to be touching anything, not with his hands coated in olive oil and rosemary as he set about seasoning a pair of Cornish game hens. 

Henry switched the record, listening for the tiny crackle as the needle began running through the groove (“The moon was all aglow,” Ella began to sing, “and heaven was in your eyes…”) before he walked over and picked up the box from off the shelf so that he could examine it more closely. It was about half the size of a shoe box, and a little heavier than he had first thought, made of dark stained wood with a hinged lid. There was no lock, no clasp. He glanced back towards the kitchen, wondering for a moment if he should be looking through John’s things like this. But John had been so open about everything, always reminding Henry when he came over that he should make himself entirely at home, and so, with that thought, he lifted the lid and looked inside. 

It was full of photographs. 

They were all piled together, without any real system of organization, although as he thumbed through them, it seemed like they roughly followed in sequence, newer ones near the top and older ones toward the bottom. 

He switched on the floor lamp next to the sofa and sat down to look at them under the light. Many were just vacation photos: snapshots of mountains and rocky beaches and even one of the Golden Gate Bridge. There were some taken from inside museums, blank walls serving as the background to life-size marble sculptures and gold-framed paintings. But there were people in them, too; he recognized James and Francis, looking about ten years younger, as they sat at a table wearing tuxes and the world’s largest smiles, champagne flutes held high in their hands. Soon enough, he found one of John, his hair much darker and his body a little leaner, standing in front of what Henry recognized as the Parthenon. The date digitally stamped at the bottom read 05/12/2002. He flipped to the next photo to see the same backdrop, but now John was joined by another man, with each of them loosely draping an arm over the other’s shoulders. The man in the picture was older than John, his chestnut hair turning towards gray, with a thin, foxy looking face and a narrow chin. It was strange to finally put a face to the name he had heard enough times, but there was no doubt in his mind who he was looking at. 

John and Michael continued to appeared throughout the stack of photos, sometimes together, sometimes by themselves, although even then Henry suspected that the other one was still there, just behind the camera. There was a picture of the two of them standing right in front of the bookstore, on what looked to be the day it opened. That photo – along with a handful of others – had a sharp bordered edge that was less faded than the rest of the picture, as if the center had sat long exposed to the light, as if, he suddenly realized, it had once been displayed in a frame. 

Further back, towards the bottom of the pile, he saw Michael in a book-lined office, dressed in a tweed jacket and a tie, a good decade’s worth of lines erased from his features. The last few pictures were of John, looking astonishingly young, whip thin with lanky dark hair falling nearly to his shoulders. The eyes, though, were the same, sad and soulful under those thick brows. In one image he was shirtless, sitting up in bed, a cigarette dangling from his fingers as he laughed at some long-forgotten joke. He looked happy, Henry thought. The final picture saw him sitting at a long wooden table, maybe in a classroom, staring out of the frame as he shrank into the bulk of a thick winter peacoat. Henry pulled the photo from the pile and held it up a little closer to the light. He couldn’t help but wonder about this version of John, who sat there with all his life still in front of him: what did he want for himself? Who did he want to become? And this place, where he was right now, was this what he necessarily would have chosen?

He was so lost in thought that he didn’t even hear the steps as they came closer. 

“Oh god, look what you found.”

Henry glanced back to see John standing just behind him, wiping his hands on a dishtowel. His thoughts raced immediately to the box of photographs in his lap and the feeling that he had somehow been caught out with them. 

“Do you mind?” he asked.

John shook his head, his cheeks rounding with an affectionate grin. “I haven’t got any secrets worth hiding.” He leaned over, looking over Henry’s shoulder, and saw the picture in his hand. A tiny sigh escaped his lips as he glanced at the photo and then down at himself, as if drawing a somewhat unfavorable comparison. “Although looking at that isn’t doing much for my pride,” he added, his eyebrows raised knowingly. He pressed a brief kiss to the top of Henry’s head and then nodded in the direction of the kitchen. “C’mon, I poured you a glass of wine.”

The Cornish game hens were already in the oven, so they set to work on the salad and the side dish, which tonight was roasted acorn squash. Henry was serving as the prep chef, tasked with washing and chopping, a role that he had started taking on over the last few weeks. Henry didn’t really know much about cooking, aside from what he had watched his mom do growing up, but he was interested, and John was a patient teacher, showing him proper knife techniques and how to eyeball measurements so he didn’t have to dirty up a bowl or a spoon. 

He ate over at John’s house quite a bit these days, and if that happened to involve staying the night – as it almost always did – no one seemed to mind that much. At first it was just once a week or so, over the weekend, but then at one point it turned into a whole weekend, and then the occasional weeknight as well. It wasn’t just that John’s house was nicer than his apartment – although it definitely was, by any standard – but that Henry found that he didn’t quite know what to do with himself when he was at home. He read some, or watched TV, but the place seemed too empty, too quiet, his bed too big without someone lying there next to him. 

In the quiet refuge of John’s bed, he was also learning more, and not just in the way that all new lovers begin to grow familiar with the feel and smell and taste of another person’s body. For all of his outward calm and composure, John had often surprised him with the sheer intensity of his need, and how quickly it could be awakened. Since that first night, they had each begun to take on different roles, depending on their mood; there were times Henry desired nothing more than to be possessed, surrounded, filled in a way that would make him forget himself, and times when John would lay back against the softness of the duvet and give himself over entirely to the younger man.

He had started leaving a few things at John’s, mostly for convenience’s sake: a toothbrush, a couple of shirts and pairs of boxer briefs. He kept it all downstairs, though, in the guest bath; for some reason, the idea of leaving things upstairs, in John’s private space, seemed like something deliberate, a line he wasn’t entirely ready to cross. 

Their dinner, of course, was delicious, and it was nice to be able to take a small bit of pride in what he had managed to contribute. They had just finished eating and Henry was thinking that he might start to clear the plates to make room for dessert when John leaned back in his chair, a tiny pensive line etched between his brows, as if he had something he had been waiting to say.

“So you’ve met Francis and James,” he said, his voice slightly hesitant, “but I was wondering if you’d like to meet the rest of my family.”

“Your family?” Henry asked in confusion. “Like your parents?”

“No.” John shook his head gently. “Not my parents. They’re…” He paused, letting out a small little exhalation. “I’m not actually sure where they are. We’re not close.” He looked over again at Henry, his gaze warming as his lips pressed into the beginning of a smile. “I mean my real family. There’s Francis and James, but it’s a whole group, really. I would say old friends, but they’re more than that. They were there for me when I needed it, at a time when I wasn’t really sure how to be there for myself.” His gaze turned loose and unfocused, momentarily dropping down towards the table. “So…” he continued, “we all get together once a month, for brunch, and I thought you might want to come with me this time.”

“You want me to come with you?” Henry asked. It wasn’t that he didn’t understand what John was saying, but this seemed like a step – in John’s mind at least, and maybe even in his own – towards making this undefined thing between them into something a little more official, a little more real. 

“Only if you want to. I understand if you don’t.”

“No,” Henry said, a smile unconsciously forming on his lips, “I’d like to go. I’d like to meet them all. Especially if they’re anything like Francis and James.”

John laughed. “I don’t think I can promise you that, I’m afraid. No one’s really like Francis and James.”

And so the following Sunday, Henry found himself pulling up outside a neighborhood restaurant, one he had heard people mention a few times, but had never been to. He wasn’t quite sure he was in the right place, but the he ducked and squinted through the windshield and recognized the name written along the awning over the entrance: The Admiralty. And there was John, hands stuffed into his jacket pockets, standing right by the door like they had planned. He had needed to go to the store early that morning to do inventory and Henry had taken it as an opportunity to run home so he could shower and change into something clean and presentable. He hoped he looked alright; he definitely wanted to make a good impression on John’s friends. 

“You found it,” John said, once Henry had parked and made it up to the front entrance.

“I did. God bless Google Maps.” He reached out and squeezed John’s waist through the fabric of his jacket, smiling as he pointedly ignored the other man’s barely-concealed expression of disdain. Henry was well aware of John’s stance on technology, although that didn’t stop him from trying to introduce him to a few new things that he might actually find useful. “So what’s with the name?” he asked out of curiosity. “It seems like a strange thing to call a restaurant.”

“I’m not sure. It’s been called that for ages, or at least as many years as we’ve been coming here.” John shrugged. “Maybe the owner had some sort of obsession with British naval ventures.” He turned and glanced towards the windows, as if suddenly reminded of what was awaiting them. “Shall we go in?” he asked, eyebrows raised expectantly. 

Most of their party had already arrived and been seated outside on the back patio. As the two of them threaded their way through the interior of the restaurant Henry caught a glimpse of a group through the windows, with Francis and James sitting along one end of their table. They both looked up as he and John stepped out onto the patio. 

“Oh, look, it’s John!” Francis said, rising up from his seat and waving them both down. “And Henry, too. So glad you could make it,” he added, his smile warm as he glanced in Henry’s direction. 

Henry and John grabbed a pair of unoccupied seats and then there were introductions all around. Besides Francis and James, there was Thomas, a structural engineering professor with wavy brown hair pulled back into a low ponytail (“Most of the time my wife Esther comes, too,” he explained to Henry, “but she’s training for a half-marathon and didn’t want to be tempted by the French toast”), and Edward, an associate in a law firm downtown, and his boyfriend, John, who worked in youth ministry. As Henry was talking with John about his church and the kind of programming they ran, two additional members of their party arrived and took the last remaining seats.

“Sorry, everyone,” said the first man, kindly-faced, with light brown hair. “Shift ran late.” Behind him, the second man, younger, with dark hair and pale blue-gray eyes, offered a cherubic smile of apology. 

“Wait,” asked James, glancing around the table and looking more than a little perplexed, “where’s Harry?”

Francis leaned over, angling himself towards James. “He and Silna are out of town this weekend, remember? They went to visit her father.” He looked over at Henry, as if to fully explain. “Harry is a pathologist and his girlfriend, Silna, works for Greenpeace. But Harry’s at the same hospital as Alex and Tom,” he added, nodding towards the two late arrivals. 

Alex, Henry soon learned, was a trauma surgeon, and his partner, Tom, worked as a nurse in the intensive care unit. They had met, Alex explained, when they accidentally fell asleep in the same bunk in the on-call room. 

“We must have been too exhausted to notice each other when we fell asleep,” he told Henry, as Tom turned a lovely shade of pink behind him. “Let’s just say that was definitely not the case when we woke up!” 

As their party was now complete, Francis flagged down a server to take their orders. Two full carafes of mimosas were ordered for the table, and Henry quickly perused the menu, finally deciding on eggs Benedict with sourdough toast. (“I’m sure it won’t be as good as yours, though,” he murmured to John, who only looked back at him with his lips firmly pressed together into a warm, slightly self-satisfied smile.) The drinks arrived, followed by the food, and soon enough the table was buzzing with lively conversation, interrupted only when James would periodically launch into a story from his travels that had the group entirely entranced. For all he knew, these might have been stories that they had all heard a dozen times before, but it didn’t seem to diminish their enjoyment, even Francis, who continued to look on indulgently with an arm stretched out across the back of James’s chair. Everyone ate and drank, and eventually they ordered another round of mimosas, although Henry couldn’t help but notice that Francis was the only one abstaining, instead keeping himself to refills of coffee. 

Henry might have been overwhelmed by being surrounded by so many new people, but they were warm and welcoming and asked him all about himself and his family and what he did for a living. His nerves loosened a bit by his second mimosa, he told the story of how he and John had met, how he had wandered into the bookstore and wandered out with a three-thousand-year-old Greek epic, and somehow had ended up coming back for more. There were nods and smiles as he spoke, directed at him, but also at John, sitting just beside him. They were happy for John, he realized. It occurred to him as he spoke that none of them had seemed at all confused when he and John first arrived, and that no one had questioned why Henry was there at all. Because, of course, they all had already known who he was and what he was doing there. Maybe John had said something, or maybe Francis, but they all seemed to completely accept the fact that he was there with John, and that John had someone new in his life he wanted them to get to know. 

As the meal was winding down, Henry quickly excused himself to the restroom for a moment. He had just finished up and was pushing open the men’s room door to rejoin the party when he saw Francis standing just outside in the hallway, leaning against the wall as if he had been waiting for him. He didn’t quite understand – had something happened at the table while he was gone? – until it finally dawned on him that Francis had wanted a chance to talk to him in private, away from John. 

“That’s a good man sitting out there,” he finally said.

Henry swallowed, his throat catching on something rough, as he wondered what exactly Francis was trying to tell him. Was it a warning? Or did he think Henry was somehow unaware of what a good man John Bridgens truly was? 

“I know,” he replied. 

“I hope so.” Despite the bluntness of the words, Francis’s voice had turned quieter, a touch more cautious, his clear and direct gaze revealing the depth of his sincerity. “Please don’t mistake what I’m saying,” he added. “In the last two months, he’s been different. He seems happier than he has in years, maybe even since I’ve known him.” He paused, letting out a breath that was not quite a sigh. 

“Just… be careful with him, Henry. Please don’t break his heart.” 

Henry opened up his mouth to speak, but what could he say that wouldn’t sound stupid, like a ridiculous cliché – “I would never…”? “I’m not that kind of guy…”? – and so instead he simply nodded, hoping Francis would understand. It was true that he hadn’t known John all that long – certainly not as long as the men outside sitting around that table – and despite their warm welcome, to them he was still an unknown element, someone who might possibly hurt their friend if given the chance.

But did he really have the power to break John’s heart, a prospect he found almost too terrible to fully contemplate? Because if what Francis was saying was true – and he had no reason to think it wasn’t – then John’s feelings for Henry ran even deeper than he had suspected. Henry was only beginning to formulate a true sense of his own feelings towards John, and he wondered if he, too, might have given away more of his heart than he was ready to acknowledge. But he knew he never wanted to hurt John or do anything to cause him pain – and when all was said and done, he never wanted to turn into a photograph that John would have to stick away inside a box. 

Francis nodded back in acknowledgement and then brushed by him as he entered the men’s room, leaving Henry alone with his thoughts as he made his way back to the table.

As he walked back outside, he could see that James was in the middle of a story, the whole group still and quiet as they listened with rapt attention.  

“…all we had been doing was sharing a delicious meal of döner kebab. How was I to know he was a black-market arms dealer wanted by six EU member states and Interpol?”

“So where’s the trial being held?” someone asked.

“Well, The Hague, naturally.”

Something about his interaction with Francis must have still been showing on his face, though, because once he found his seat again, John leaned in a little closer. “Everything all right?” he quietly asked. 

“Of course,” Henry answered, offering him a wide, reassuring smile as he reached down and squeezed the top of John’s leg just above the knee.  

James finished up his story – the tribunal was scheduled for this coming spring and he was trying to convince Francis that they should take a week and fly out to watch some of the proceedings (“I’ve sweetened the deal by offering to tack on an overnight in Amsterdam,” he added) – and by the time Francis returned, the bill had arrived. They settled up and began to say their farewells, and Henry was swallowed up in a number of hugs and requests to come back and join them again the following month. 

Eventually, though, he was able to extricate himself and he and John found themselves back in front of the restaurant as John walked him back to where his car was parked along the street. 

They stopped there, and Henry turned towards John, smiling gently as their gazes met. Part of him wanted to say something about Francis, and the conversation they had shared, but he knew that it was private enough that he shouldn’t, even if it meant keeping something from John. 

“Your friends are great,” he said. “They care a lot about you.” 

“They liked you, too,” John replied quietly, his gaze soft and full of tenderness. “But I’m not surprised.” 

At any other point in his life, it would have been too much to have another person look at him the way that John Bridgens was looking at him just then. He wouldn’t have known what to do with it, or how to make sense of the feelings it was giving life to within his own chest, as his heart pressed deep and fast against his ribs, as if trying to convey the words that the rest of him didn’t dare to speak. At any other point his life, he might have thought only to escape the complexity and intensity of those feelings. But at this point, standing across from this man, extraordinary in so many ways, running away was the last thing he wanted to do. 

“So I can’t really think about food right now,” he said, putting his hand to his overfull stomach, “but why don’t I head home and do a little planning and maybe run to the grocery store and then later tonight I can come over and cook dinner for the two of us?” 

“You want to cook dinner?” John asked, his dark brows furrowing inward.  

“I think you deserve a little break, don’t you? And it’ll give me a chance to practice some of the things I’ve learned.” Henry paused, the side of his mouth curling into a wicked half-grin. “Unless we’re not at the point in our relationship where you think you can trust me with your Cuisinart?” 

John flashed him a knowing smile, the sight of which was enough to make Henry’s breath catch unsteadily in his throat. 

“Sounds lovely,” he said. 

Here’s a little Ella to get you in the mood and some references for grad-school-era John. As for Michael, I imagine him (in his teaching days, at least) looking a bit like a younger Ian McKellen, although maybe not quite so pretty!

[chikraizyj]

So... this is my second piece of my VLD Modern AU. If you have not read my first one, check it out (Thrive)! Thanks for all the cute comments... I hope you like this one. 

FLASHBACK

Silence was something that Keith valued too much.

He hated the bustle. Nor could he imagine what it would be like to live in an urbanization with so many neighbors. No. He preferred to stay where he lived, away from society. He did not know how Pidge, Lance and Hunk managed to live in an urbanization. Especially Pidge, who had Lance as her neighbor. It was at school, and Lance irritated him as no other being could, he did not want to imagine having him as a neighbor.

The impact of the closing of the library door rumbled in the room, causing all the heads to turn their attention to anyone who had let it close so hard. Keith looked at that figure with white hair and dark skin.

Allura’s face was slightly red. And he could notice despite being like 30 feet away. She simply smiled at those people who gave her murderous looks and continued on her way to the librarian.

Keith returned to his book, this time, reading hundreds of words, but no words formed a sentence and no sentence made sense. His thoughts were on something else in particular. Rather, in someone in particular.

After he left her at Canela’s Café that afternoon and realizing that maybe she was not as conceited and arrogant as he thought, a small and innocent curiosity was thriving inside him. And because of that, he had been watching her in the Literature class with more attention… with much more attention. She always wore pale and cheerful colors and, mostly, had her hair up at school. Each time she added something to the class, it was a correct answer or a new point of view about something.

The sound of the steps brought him back to reality and he looked up. Allura was approaching him and he could not look away.

“Hello, Keith” she greeted, with a shy smile.

“Hey, Allura…” he replied, waving his hand at her, “what are you doing here?” Really, Keith? She is in the library… what people do in libraries?

“Oh … well, I was looking for some History books,” she replied, placing her backpack on the large sofa on which he was sitting.

Keith raised an eyebrow. “Anything in particular?”

Allura sat next to him. “Altea is very different from this country… and I would like to know your culture and customs.”

"There’s nothing interesting… honestly” he said, shrugging.

Allura frowned. “There is always something interesting… by the way, what do you read?”

Keith looked down at the book about cats that he was reading. He closed it and hid it from her sight. “Nothing interesting…” he stood up. “Let’s look up for some history books and help you a little. There must be something around here.”

And without realizing it, Keith spent the whole hour explaining to Allura the history of his country, its customs and traditions. Allura listened intently, and Keith noted that the times Allura added something to the conversation was about laws and science. It was interesting… Keith hated the history, and here he was, explaining history to… what was she? Friend? Acquaintance? Classmate?

“That’s pretty much a summary of everything…” he concluded. “Oh and we love french fries.”

Allura laughed “Thank you so much, Keith!” she said with a huge smile, putting away the last history book on the shelf. “Really, it means a lot.” She looked him with that soft eyes and Keith was already blushing lightly.

“No problem” shoving his hands on his pockets. “You know? There is a fair near here, my friends and I will be going this Friday so…”

Allura tilted her head. “Your friends?”

“Yep… Pidge, Hunk and Lance. I don’t know if Matt and Shiro are coming though.”

She narrowed her eyes, searching something in her head. “Hunk? Brown hair, always wears a band and likes burritos?” she bit her lip. “And Lance is a tall boy, blue eyes and egotistical cocky?”

Keith nodded, partly surprised because she already knew them. “Pretty much, yeah.”

Allura seemed to keep searching for something. "Oh… who’s Pidge?”

“Just talk to her about science and it will be all right…” he answered, anxious to know her response. “So… you coming?… If you want” he added, trying to not sound creepy.

The bell rang and Allura took her backpack and smiled at him sweetly. "I will see what I can do.”

“How did Keith get her to come?”

Keith rolls his eyes at Lance’s distant comment from the platform above them and observes the view. Somehow, they had ended up at the Ferris Wheel at Allura’s request. Pidge was with Lance in another platform on top of them and because of that, he could hear everything that his friends were saying. Hunk was probably eating and waiting for them to get off the Wheel.

Ever since Allura had arrived, his friends had not stopped giving inquisitive looks to him. It was strange and Keith noticed that Allura also felt it too. Although, he never commented that she was going to come, so he fully understood the faces of astonishment and confusion of his friends when they saw her.

However, that did not stop them from having fun. Allura and Pidge connected instantly. They had shared a few words previously but, she knew her by Katie, and not by her nickname. They spent half an hour playing in the arcade and discovering the patterns of video games.

Hunk was like a tour guide, showing Allura all the kiosks of every corner of the fair, making her try all the munchies and refreshments. Keith still could not process how much the new girl could ingest. In particular, he was curious about the girl’s reaction to vanilla milkshake. She was amazed by the milkshake… thrilled.

Lance on the other hand, he did not stop… showing himself to Allura. He kept challenging Keith in every game just to show that he was better at something. Which was a mistake.

First, it was an innocent challenge to see which of the two had better marksmanship in the darts… Keith, without much effort, hit almost all the darts at the target. Lance, on the contrary… he tried. Then, the bottle ring toss: Lance almost defeated him in that game, but Keith successfully tossed five times more than him. And he also won in the Pong Toss, in the Hammer, in the Bowling, he did not threw up after getting three times in the Whirlpool of Death, and did not scream in the Haunted House.

“This place is beautiful…”

Keith turned to Allura, whose eyes seemed to sparkle with excitement as she admired all the lights of the city, in the highest position of the Ferris Wheel.

“How’s Altea?” He asked, stung by curiosity.

Allura leaned back and a half smile with a nostalgic taste, formed on her face. “Altea is more advanced in some ways.”

That took him by surprise. “What do you mean?”

“All your attractions are basic models. You guys… have fun. In Altea, the fairs have educational purposes and each attraction is related to science. The machines are much more advanced in terms of technology.”

“Must be co—“

"Mostly boring.” Allura cut him off, sighing. “Here, you simply relax and your only purpose is to have a good time and good food.”

Keith nodded. "That’s a good summary of what we do in fairs, yeah.”

“Our meals in Altea are healthier and more organic,” she said, frowning slightly. “Never in my life had I tried a vanilla milkshake or a hot dog, or a pretzel. Your meals may not be entirely healthy but they are delicious.”

Keith found it interesting to look up information in his house about Altea. It sounded so different… He clenched his fist to remember.

“Do you think Keith harassed her to come here?”

“Lance, get over it.”

“Are they kissing? Can you see anything?”

Allura blushed when she heard those comments. “Your friends are… peculiar,” concluded, looking back at the city. “And the view is incredible. Thanks for inviting me.”

“It’s not a problem,” he admitted, scratching the back of his neck. “I mean, you’re new and…”

Allura’s expression hardened. "That’s why you have been so nice with me? Because I’m new here?”

Keith winced. “No! I mean, partly. But—“

"If that’s the case,” she snapped, crossing her arms. “I do not wish to be a burden for you.”

“No, no, no…” Keith’s eyes widened and his hands began to sweat. Seeing Allura’s annoyed expression, he snorted. “Can we start again?” Allura looked at him, lightly harsh and Keith swallowed hard, but then a refresh peaceful smile crept into her face. She giggled and nodded at him. Keith found himself laughing softly. “You are nice” he said, clearing his throat. “And… I thought it would be nice to invite you to know our customs. Because, the other day you were looking for information and all that...” And that was completely true.

“Oh… t-thanks” she stammered nervously, breaking eye contact with him. She sighed. “Honestly, Keith… you are not a bad company.”

Keith shrugged, not knowing what to say. “Why are you here?”

Allura moved from the seat and began to braid her hair, biting her lip. “My father is quite recognized in Altea and… I did not want to take Home School anymore. I was always locked up.” Keith nodded, listening carefully. "Here, I am more… free.”

Keith was going to answer when he heard Pidge’s scream.

“Put your arm away!”

“If it were Shiro’s, you would leave it.”

“Oh shut up before I toss you out from the platform!”

Keith and Allura laughed again. The silence reigned again, the music of the fair was heard as they went down. While they were lowering slowly, Allura gasped.

"Keith!” she pulled Keith by the arm. “Is that a chess?”

He looked where she pointed. “It looks like a human size chess.”

Allura smiled from ear to ear. “Let’s play.”

Keith glanced at his phone. "There are other attractions and I got a curfew…” he apologized softly, “playing will take time.”

“I will beat you in ten minutes.”

Keith raised an eyebrow and stared at the girl who looked at him with an air of self-sufficiency. “Is that so?” he asked, amused.

Allura shrugged. “Maybe less” she teased.

The platform stopped and the door opened, inviting them to get out of there. Keith looked at her with determination. “Game on.”

~*~

“Checkmate.”

“But…” Keith analyzed each movement and either way, he was screwed. She had left him without an alternative.

“And in 9 minutes with 15 seconds” announced Allura, smiling triumphantly.

She had defeated him. And in less than 10 minutes, as she predicted.

“What the-”

“Guys!” Hunk ran towards them, followed by Lance and Pidge, who walked quietly. “Lance just walked on a tightrope!” Like an excited child, he played the video on his phone that showed what he had said previously. Lance walking on a tightrope near the ground, people applauding and the animator looked incredulous watching Lance walking so easily. To make it more… Lance, he walked with a rose in his mouth, and when he finished, he gave it to Pidge, who rolled her eyes but accepted it. The video stopped.

“That’s wonderful!” Allura exclaimed, looking at Lance, who was approaching them next to Pidge. “You got a great balance there.”

Lance wrapped an arm around her shoulders and winked at her, grinning. “I can teach you some moves, preciosa.”

Keith rolled his eyes.

Allura gasped and walked toward Pidge, escaping from Lance’s grip. “Is that a-?”

“Hamster, yes…” Pidge smiled and showed the little thing in her hands. “Lance gave it to me.”

A grimace appeared in Lance’s face. “Honestly I can’t bring anything home because my siblings will want something too… and Pidge wanted that mouse so—“

“Is a hamster, Lance.”

Lance looked exasperated. “Is a mouse without a tail!”

Pidge rolled her eyes and smiled tenderly. “Isn’t he cute?” The girl began to pet the creature. “Meet Timo Holt"

“That’s a cute name!” said Hunk, bringing cookies to his mouth. “What are you guys doing?” He asked to Allura and Keith.

“We were playing chess,” Allura replied, petting Timo as well, “and I won.”

Hunk swallowed all the cookies in his mouth. “You know…” he took a sip of his soda before continuing, “Pidge is the best at chess. She used to compete in middle school. And she always wins.”

Pidge blushed slightly. “It’s not a big deal…”

“Dale Pidge, show her, girl!” encouraged Lance patting her back. Pidge glared at him.

Allura shrugged and twisted a smile. “It’s a little late to start a game now.”

“Yeah. Is late guys…” added Pidge.

“Oh…” Hunk teased with an amused grin. “I think someone is afraid of losing.”

Allura’s eyes widened.

“You know what? Lets play then,” said Pidge, handing the hamster to Lance.

He frowned. “Hey! I’m not gonna hold the mouse!”

Pidge let out a growl. “Is a damn hamster, Lance! It won’t eat you!”

“Good luck…” Keith commented, and Allura turned to him, “you will need it.” Then he turned to Pidge and smiled at her. “Go loose, Pidge!”

“Beat her!” shout Hunk, then looked at Allura. “No offense.”

Allura laughed and moved the first piece. “Not taken.”

45 minutes passed and both girls were still there. Honestly, none of them could say who was winning. And after the first 15 minutes, the boys had stopped paying attention to the game and went to buy something to eat.

Lance petted the hamster when nobody was watching. Then there was Hunk, who was texting with Shay. Keith believed they were dating secretly but Hunk did not let any detail escape. Although Keith has seen Shay a few times, everyone knew that those two like each other. But, she lived far away and they saw her from time to time in Summer or Winter.

“Are you going to explain?”

Keith frowned and crossed his arms. “What do you mean?”

Lance narrowed his eyes. “Are you and Allura—”

“I don’t have time for this, Lance” snapped Keith.

Lance was going to reply but Hunk went ahead. “I think she is nice. I’d love to have her company more often,” he said, trying to calm the tension between the two boys. He glanced at his phone and pouted. “By the way, where are Matt and Shiro?”

“Here we are!” Everyone turned to see the two Seniors, walking towards the boys. “Are you ready to go?” asked Matt, frowning. “Where’s Katie?”

Lance aimed to his right. “Playing chess with Allura.”

“Checkmate! Haha!”

Matt and Shiro glanced over to where the girls were and their brows knitted, giving back to the boys a confused look.

Shiro turned to Keith. “Is that the new girl from Altea?” Keith nodded.

Matt seemed lost. “The new girl?”

“Altea’s intelligence is not a worthy opponent to me… Matt!” Pidge ran to his brother and hugged him, taking him off guard. "How was the club?” she asked, looking sweetly at him.

Matt returned the hug and gave her a kiss on the head. “Same as always,” he replied, glancing sideways at the white-haired girl who joined the group.

Shiro cleared his throat. “You must be Allura,” he said, extending his hand.

Allura shook his hand and tucked a lock of hair behind her ear. “You must be Shiro.”

Matt leaned over to Allura and took her hand “I’m Matt Holt” he gave her a little kiss, provoking an innocent blush on the cheeks of the new girl.

“It’s a pleasure to meet you, Matt.”

“The honor is all mine” he replied, with a bright smile. “It’s a shame that this is my last year and I do not have the pleasure of sharing some classes with you.”

Keith rolled his eyes for the thirtieth time in the day.

Lance snorted and murmured. “Really? That line is so lame.”

Shiro gave a brief look at Keith and patted Matt on the back. “So guys, it’s late, we need to get going.”

The others nodded in agreement. “Yeah… let’s go.” Matt pulled the keys out of his pocket but something caught his attention. “Wait, is that a hamster?”

Lance returned the hamster to Pidge with disgust. “Is a mouse.”

Pidge glared at him, but she just ignored him. “Is a hamster and his name is Timo.”

Matt grinned mischievously and nudged his best friend. “It sounds like Shiro… doesn’t it?”

Pidge’s face turned red. “Of course not!”

Shiro let out a laugh, approaching her. “Hey… I think it’s a cute name” he wrapped his arms around his best friend’s sister. “Looking closely at it, put it on some glasses and it’s the replica of Matt Holt.”

Everybody laughed.

“Oh come on!”

Taking advantage of the fact that the others were discussing about the hamster, Keith walked towards Allura, who seemed amused by the situation. “Hey… do you need a ride home?”

Allura smiled at him. “Do not wo—” her phone rang and she took a brief look at it. “Oh, he is there. I got to go.” Allura leaned to him but, she hesitated. She cleared her throat and her eyes turned soft as she stared at him. "Thanks for the night, Keith.”

Keith blinked several times, not knowing whether to shake her hand, as a “goodbye” gesture or simply thank her for coming. “Mmm… yeah. Anytime” he opted to answer.

The moonlight gleamed in her blue eyes, like a bright ocean. It was astonishing and distracting. Allura nodded hesitantly and turned to leave but she stopped and turned to him again.

Keith did not have time to react. Her touch was genuine and soft but, the hug lasted very little. Allura did not even give him time to return it when she was saying goodbye to the others with a wave of her hand. Keith followed her with his eyes and watched as she got back into the same black car. The group said goodbye, without any comment.

Shiro did not say anything on the way home, either. And Keith was more than grateful. The least he wanted was for them to come up with crazy conclusions.

He had a lot of fun. And he never thought that Allura was going to fit in so well with them. Keith kept repeating every moment in his head. Eating with Hunk, beating Lance’s ass at the games, playing video games with Pidge and having Allura by his side. Listening to her, feeling their fingers brushing from time to time (casually), feeling comfortable when he talked to her… feeling the soft embrace of that hug, that Keith did not have him time to return.

And that image that he could not remove from his head. At some point during the night, while everyone was laughing and having fun. He saw something… he felt something. And he treasured that feeling, that memory. Who would have thought? Keith always had imagined finishing his studies, graduating, with no friends and only Shiro and his mother applauding him in the audience, he even thought that his father would ever be there. Then, he met them, whom he could call friends, yes: Lance, Pidge and Hunk; and they changed his life completely.

Now, he could easily see himself graduating, with Shiro and his mother applauding him in the crowd and his friends cheering him up by his side.

And he felt that maybe… just maybe, Allura could be by his side there too.