#I scream when she started calling me cub so I added it here

[zuutiomi]

my beloved old lady Jaheira

[rebrandedbard]

If you are still writing 14?

Okay so this one accidentally went from a drabble to an actual fic whoops. The cure is totally inspired by the Rapunzel fairy tale, spoiler alert, where the prince falls in the thorn bushes around the tower and Rapunzel’s tears fall into his eyes, curing him.

14. “Hey, I’m with you, okay? Always.”

wc: 4444 which is an awesome number I’m so happy lol

Robbed Blind

Someone botches a spell to steal Jaskier’s artistic vision and he’s cursed with blindness. Thankfully, he falls into the company of Ciri and Lambert. They journey safely to Kaer Morhen, but what could be the cure to his affliction?

-

She had found him, tripping over the strings of destiny, in Drakenborg. He’d been on his way to Oxenfurt when the curse took hold, and he had gone no further. Jaskier was haggard, gaunt, and looked quite worn. His hair lay flat from constant fussing. It was a habit Ciri remembered well from his visits, always combing a nervous hand through his hair before a performance. She had never seen it look so lifeless. He needed a mirror, she thought. She would soon realize that a mirror would serve him no purpose.

He was blind. He startled when she ran to him, throwing her arms around his waist. She’d been so relieved to see a friendly face that she’d run right into his arms, nearly knocking him from the stool in the corner of the tavern. Why should he not catch her as he’d always done? He’d been looking directly at her; she thought he’d merely not recognized her beneath the mud and hood.

“Let me go! Who are you? Stop—stop this now or I’ll give you such a wallop, I’ll—!”

“Jaskier!” Ciri cried, shocked. She flinched away from him as he elbowed her roughly against her temple. She rubbed the spot, standing out of reach.

Jaskier straightened up at once. “Is that—? Little cub, is that you?” he asked. He turned his head as if searching for her and reached out a hand, feeling the air. It was nowhere near.

Ciri took his hand. During their long weeks of travel, she refused to let it go again. She became his eyes, and together they started for Oxenfurt and the safety of its halls.

He’d woken up blind one day, he explained. No warning or explanation. The mage had told him what magic was at play. Someone had tried to steal his artistic vision and the enchantment had gone wrong, stealing from him his very sight.

“Is there not a cure?” Ciri asked.

Jaskier shook his head. “The mage said it was a botched spell. There’s no telling what will fix it, only that it must have something to do with artistic vision. The mage suggested it might be cured by the old methods: kisses and the like; gazing upon true beauty.”

He squinted and took her face between his hands. “I’m looking and looking at you as hard as I can, and I remember you were the most beautiful thing I’d ever seen when you were first born. So what do mages know? Have you become a pox-faced adolescent or scraggly Medusa? Ah,” he chuckled, “but you’d still be a fairytale princess in my eyes if you had the face of a basilisk.”

She laughed and squirmed out of his hands. “You were always very good at Blind Man’s Bluff. Do you remember when we used to play it? Back then, you were always stumbling; you aren’t stumbling as much anymore.”

“I’ve grown used to it, I suppose. But you are a princess—do you suppose a kiss from you might cure me? How are you with frogs? Ever wake a sleeping prince?”

“No, but we may try it. There’s magic in me of a sort, I know. Here, kneel a moment.”

Jaskier knelt on the dry road and closed his eyes, tapping the lid. “Right here. Give it a go,” he said encouragingly. “If it doesn’t work, we’ll practice on a frog and work our way up.”

Ciri kissed both eyes to be sure. “Alright. Open them. Do you see anything?”

She tried not to get her hopes up, watching Jaskier squeeze his eyes tight. He opened them, blinked several times, and gave her a sad smile.

“Not to worry, we’ll find a pond in no time,” he joked, trying to keep the mood light.

-

“Well! I go to find a cat and find a lioness instead. And a songbird. Must be my lucky day.”

Ciri put herself between the stranger and Jaskier, waving a large branch in warning. “Keep away,” she growled. “If you come any closer, I’ll scream.”

The scruffy man put his hands up and grinned. “I’ve heard what sort of screaming runs in your family. Trust me, I would rather not be around for one of them. Heard it knocked pretty boy flat on his back at your mother’s little Surprise party.”

Jaskier put a hand on Ciri’s shoulder. “Wait a moment,” he said. “I know that moniker. Geralt complained of it before.” He was quiet a moment, stirring up a memory. Then, he lit up, asking excitedly, “Did you say you were looking for a cat? A cat witcher, by chance?”

“Why? Find one up a tree?” the stranger pressed.

Jaskier patted Ciri’s shoulder and strode forward, extending a hand. “You must be Lambert! I’ve heard—” his hand buckled against Lambert’s chest, his stride clearing the distance too quickly “—oh, my apologies. I’ve heard about you before. I was hoping to see you under better circumstances if I ever got the chance. Or to see you at all, really. Damnable timing.”

Lambert looked at him, then took his hand. Ciri watched as the understanding settled in, for Jaskier was staring straight at the man’s forehead, a near lucky guess of his eye line. Lambert wore an expression of pity freely, knowing Jaskier could not see it, though his tone was light and cocky as before. “I always wondered what you saw in that sourpuss, following him as long as you did; now I know you didn’t see anything after all,” he joked.

Jaskier snorted. “It’s new.”

“Ah, so you’ve been blinded by love, have you?”

Jaskier flapped his hand until he felt the brush of Ciri’s sleeve at his side, then he tugged her forward and presented her. He cleared his throat, a tad flushed. “May I introduce Her Royal Highness, Princess Cirilla Fiona Elen Riannon, the Lion Cub of Cintra. Geralt’s child Surprise.”

Ciri tossed her branch aside. “You know Geralt,” she said.

“They’re brothers.”

Lambert sneered. “He got all the looks, Eskel got the talent, but I got the brains.”

“What little there were to be had,” Jaskier added.

“Oh, ho! You’ll fit right in at the keep, talking like that.”

There was a pregnant pause between the three of them. Jaskier nudged Ciri gently forward. “She’ll be safe there. And her wit is more cutting than mine.”

Ciri turned at once to protest. “But what about Ox—”

“And so would you,” Lambert cut in. “A dull knife and a dull wit can be sharpened, and I’d rather keep two knives in my belt than one, whatever their make. Don’t start that maudlin shit with me; you’re coming along.”

Jaskier opened his mouth to protest and Lambert raised a hand. Then, realizing how ineffective that was against one who could not see it, he recovered and smacked the side of Jaskier’s head to shut him up before he started.

“Come on; it’s a long and dull road we have ahead of us, and you’re my entertainment. I want to hear every embarrassing story you can supply. I’ve long run out of blackmail and I’m in need of fresh material. Besides, what better bait for a cat than a twittering bird? If you sing loud enough, we might pick him up along the way.”

-

They were all together in the great hall when at last he came. The figure stood in the doorway, a black dot against the stark white of winter outside. A pair of bags dropped with a thundering bang upon the floor, the sound echoing throughout the room, and the figure bundled up by the fire started awake in fright.

Jaskier patted the blanket beside him, made frantic by his sudden awakening. “Ciri? Ciri!” he called, for she had been asleep next to him what seemed only moments ago.

She paused only a moment to stare at the imposing figure in the light. Something in her shouted, compelling her to go to him. But Jaskier called for her in that voice wrought with panic once more. She flew from the circle of wolves to his side, abandoning her hand of cards, disregarding the man of destiny at the door.

“I’m here,” she said, taking his hands. “Hey, I’m with you, okay? Always. I’m not going anywhere.” She and the others looked at each other, looked at Geralt, and said not a word.

Jaskier settled and took a deep breath. “I heard something crash. I dreamed—but never mind that.” He sighed, pressing his head to their joined hands. “I’m sorry. I know it’s safe here. I’m just not used to you wandering off just yet.”

“I know.” She stroked his hair gently. It was soft again, though not as silky as before. Lambert and Eskel had drawn him a bath for the first time in a long while, but he had not his customary soaps and oils. He was … less bright, his appearance dulled with his mood.

Vesemir had examined him. Countless hours, the wolves had huddled together in the old library, trying to find a cure for Jaskier’s condition to no avail. As time went by, the reality of his situation weighed on Jaskier. He could no longer read his notebook, nor write his music to be remembered. Ciri read his notes aloud and studied the art so she might transcribe them for him, but it was obvious how he felt.

“I don’t want to be a burden,” he’d said.

And now he gave her that same false smile, the one that failed to meet his eyes. She missed the lines in the corners and wished they might come back. Perhaps they’d flown off with the crows, frightened of the winter snow.

“Go back to your game,” he whispered. “I’ll head up to bed.”

“Do you want me to come with you?” she offered.

He shook his head. “I know the way now. If someone will take me to the stairwell?” he prompted, raising a hand.

Ciri looked at Geralt. There was so little she knew of him—stories and songs … words spared in rumors and stolen from conversations where she lingered unnoticed to listen. What she knew of the wolf and bard she had pieced together with care. For all the tales Jaskier would tell, he would not disparage Geralt before her, and he would not tell the story of the dragon hunt. But dwarves talk. Stories travel and lesser bards would imitate the songs of greater. Witchers collect news of other witchers, and two adults would speak as adults when ale made easy speech. Jaskier had confided in Lambert those tearing words once flung at him upon the mountain. And thus she had put the final piece into place of the great mystery between them.

‘If life could give me one blessing…’

“Who will take him?” she asked. She kept Geralt’s eyes as she rose to her feet. “Who will take him into his hands?”

It was only the barest movement, but she swore she saw the wolf of legend flinch.

Jaskier sat up with a huff. “You make it sound so dramatic. Are we playing at a quest now? Very well, who is my knight errant? The princess has thus decreed a quest is in order: a quest up the perilous tower steps, my-my! Such a task!”

“I should think a white knight is the one suited best for the task,” Vesemir grunted. He shuffled his hand, eyes narrowed at Geralt.

The white knight in question let his cloak fall. He shook the snow from his arms and dusted them slowly, looking at each watching face in turn. His hesitation was clear. When none moved to claim Jaskier, he stepped forward cautiously. Without a word, he took Jaskier’s hand and lifted him to his feet.

Jaskier clapped an arm around his shoulder, hands patting the edge of his long hair. “Ah, thank you, Vesemir,” he said. His hand slipped from Geralt’s armour and he made a face, flicking his wet hand in the air. He prodded the armour curiously. “You’re soaked; I thought you said you’d sent Eskel for the firewood.” He prodded again and bumped against Geralt’s shoulder pad. He pinched it between his fingers, figuring out its shape. He hummed curiously. “What are you wearing? Did you go hunting?”

Geralt stared. Jaskier was not looking at him. Geralt looked at the circle of men by the fireside and there sat Vesemir in silence, watching. He was struck dumb. What … game was this?

“A knight needs a knight’s armour,” Lambert called.

Jaskier laughed. “Oh, of course. Such a soft touch; did you get all dressed up for Ciri? Have I woken in the middle of a game?”

Eskel tossed a card in the middle of the circle. “Yes,” he answered, “but we’ve just started on another, different game.”

“Very cold and calculated,” Ciri agreed.

“Cold and calculated. So a snowball fight has become a snowball war, no doubt born of the most complicated strategies. Shame on the lot of you. You ought to let your elders warm themselves before sending them on tasks. You’re young; you’ve got legs,” Jaskier scolded.

“It was his idea,” Eskel replied.

Vesemir nodded, keeping silent as the game unravelled.

Jaskier looped his arm through Geralt’s and stood straight and tall in an affected manner. “Come, my good knight,” he said, “and let us bid good night to these slacking youths.”

He started to walk in the general direction of the stair, Geralt turning them with truer aim. Geralt looked over his shoulder at the others, frowning. This was not the sort of confrontation he expected when next he saw Jaskier. If he ever saw him. And here was his child Surprise in their midst without a word of greeting or explanation, and the bard, the two of them together and settled within the walls of the keep.

It was too perplexing for him to puzzle out. And Jaskier was acting strangely. Where were his speeches? Geralt had expected him to argue on sight, or else to pretend all was right and greet him, “Geralt! How good to see you,” or, “Fancy meeting you here,” and play off the mountain like it never happened. Or at the very least to ignore him. But to call him Vesemir and take to his arm? What joke was he playing at?

The answer came as Jaskier dodged the first step and nearly fumbled upon the stair. He clung to Geralt’s arm with a cry and his other hand shot out to grope the wall. He flailed for it, feeling his way from the step outward, then sliding his hand up the side of it. He turned his head, looked at Geralt and laughed. “I’m still not used to these uneven steps,” he said. “Give me time and I’ll be able to find my way around unassisted. By next week, I’ll be able to navigate every pool in the hot springs, then you four will never see me fully dressed again!”

Geralt raised a hand to Jaskier’s face. He rested a thumb just beneath his eye. They were as blue as ever, nothing seemed amiss, and yet …

Jaskier’s smile weakened. He closed his eyes and pushed the hand away. “I know the three of you are working hard to find a cure. I know the jokes fall flat. But I must make them. If I don’t … Vesemir, if I can’t make light of it, the darkness I see will be all I have left.”

He turned toward the stair again, hand firm on Geralt’s arm, the other on the wall. “Right then. Up we go. Just one at a time,” he said. He stepped tentatively forwards, prodding his foot before him until he nudged the base of the first step. “Got it. First is always hardest, isn’t it?”

They carried on. Two steps, three, one after the other slowly. They were uneven by design: a final defense against those who would try to invade their stronghold. The spiral stair favored those who walked it every day, gave advantage to the men who would be at the top, swinging their swords to fight back those who would dare trespass unwitting. It was difficult enough for any stranger with sight. With Jaskier, it was a quest in itself.

Midway up, Geralt thought to carry him. They were going so slowly; it would have been easiest that way. He nearly offered, but stopped. If he spoke, Jaskier would know him. He began to reach an arm out to simply lift him, but Jaskier fumbled once more, his knee hitting the step with a mumbled curse. And Geralt heard him muttering through his teeth as he crouched upon the stair.

“I will learn,” he hissed. “This will not stop me. I refuse to be a burden to anyone. Never again.” He touched his forehead to the step and Geralt put a hand to his back. He was trembling.

When Jaskier rose again, he did not take Geralt’s arm. He reached out and took hold of the wall on either side, arms stretched wide to hold himself up. He proceeded to climb the stair alone. When Geralt reached out to help, Jaskier waved him away.

“No,” he whispered. “We’re nearly at the top. Just let me do this much. Please.”

And Geralt let his hand fall away.

Jaskier reached the landing with a powerful stomp, expecting a final step. He breathed a sigh of relief and sagged against the right wall. Geralt followed behind and patted his shoulder. Small congratulations. From there, Jaskier walked down the corridor, tapping when he came upon a wooden door. He passed three, tapped each with his knuckles, counting. When he reached the forth door, he opened it. In this space, he walked with ease away from the wall. He flopped confidently upon the bed and rested a moment as one does after a long journey.

He shucked off his doublet and loosened the laces of his boots. He set these aside at the very foot of the bed where they might easily be found again. He undid the back lace of his trousers, paused, and inclined his head toward the door.

“Are you still there, Vesemir?” he asked.

Geralt did not know how to respond. He stood fixed in the doorway, but dropped his eyes to his feet modestly. After a moment’s wait, Jaskier finished undressing and climbed beneath the heavy furs. A memory stirred—that was not the final task of the evening. What was the last of their routine each night? What was left undone that made this finality seem so abrupt? Geralt realized it in the darkness of the room. He had no candle to blow out.

The truth struck Geralt sharp as a blade to his gut. He stole through the door, walking quietly toward the bed. He sat on the edge, the furs rumpled beneath him, and listened to Jaskier’s breathing. He was not yet asleep—would never be, so soon—but he did not stir.

Geralt took his hand gently.

Jaskier squeezed it back.

“I only wish that had not been the last I’d seen of him,” Jaskier whispered. “I try to remember his smile now. For all my poetry, I can’t remember it clearly. His smiles were so rare, but I don’t suppose you need me to tell you. Or perhaps you do. I don’t know if he smiled here; I know nothing his life in this place. Were you so fortunate that they were commonplace?”

Silent footsteps creeped up the stair. Ciri had waited long enough to follow. Geralt heard no sign of her under the ringing words of Jaskier’s speech. Though he spoke no louder than the breath of the wind, every last syllable echoed like a clap of thunder in his ears.

Jaskier slipped his hand free and turned on his pillow, hugging it close. “I wish I might at least see Ciri now, know how she’s grown. They change so quickly at that age. Does she look like her mother? Does she look like him? Destiny makes strange things of those it touches. She was beginning to look like him, I once thought.”

She saw him well enough, looking through the open door. She crouched behind the wall, listening as she always did in secret, for the things he would not burden her with.

“I always did wonder what you looked like. Geralt spoke once to me of his brothers, his mentor. You’re still stories to me in ways. I know you have long hair, grey with age. I know Lambert is shorn, Eskel is shaggy. I know your voices, your height, and a hundred other things. But do you share his eyes? What color is the armour you wear? How does the sun set over the mountainside? The carpets before the hearth—what pattern is woven there? What thousands of stories do you keep in that library? What do the monsters look like illustrated in the great bestiary?”

He buried his face in his pillow. His voice was muffled, but both Geralt and Ciri could hear the husk in it. “I won’t feel sorry for myself. It doesn’t mean anything—just idle curiosity. It doesn’t matter how the carpet is woven or if you wear brown shirts or red. I’ve seen a lifetime of sunrises and sunsets and stars. I don’t want them!” he barked. He writhed on the bed, his face falling from the pillow, stained with tears. “I don’t! I never needed them, not one! I don’t care—I don’t! None of them are important!”

Geralt rushed forward and took Jaskier in his arms. Jaskier struggled, beating at his chest, and refused to be coddled. “No!” he wailed. “Don’t comfort me, I don’t need it! I don’t want it! I will not be pitied!” But for his hard words, he clung to Geralt’s armour, sobbing against his shoulder. “It’s unnecessary. It’s just a bunch of poetry. Useless poetry and songs.”

Jaskier pulled away, Geralt’s hands trailing from his back to his shoulders as he sat up. Geralt held him there before he could retreat more. Before he could think twice of it, Geralt leaned in, his hands cupping Jaskier’s face on either side.

“Vese—”

Something warm and wet fell onto Jaskier’s lashes. He heard a shaky breath, felt the warmth of it upon his face. Another hot tear fell into his other eye and he blinked in surprise, for it was not his own. He sat perfectly still in shock, blinking the falling tears away.

“They were never useless,” Geralt said. “They were always important—all of them.”

Jaskier twitched, raising his head by instinct up to look at the man who held him now. “You were—!”

“I’m sorry. For not speaking before. For … not speaking then. After. And for saying what I did that day.” He wiped the tears beneath Jaskier’s eyes away, an expression of pain twisting his hollowed features. “If I’d not sent you away—I don’t know what’s become of you, but I might have—I could have tried to prevent it. You would still have your sight.”

Jaskier covered Geralt’s hands. “No, Geralt. This is none of your doing. You can’t—”

A loud bump from the hall startled him. Jaskier turned at once to look.

“Ciri,” he breathed.

Ciri had a finger to her mouth and was glaring up at a tall man. They both cowed back, being caught. Jaskier looked between them as Geralt’s hands slipped away. He stood, walking toward them. He looked at Ciri, gaping, their eyes perfectly aligned. Jaskier fell to his knees before her and took her hands without fumbling.

“Ciri,” he said. “You’re so … my good gods, you’ve grown.”

All were still as he reached out, touching her face as though she were made of glass. He smoothed her hair away, taking all of her in. He laughed, new tears falling as he pulled her close and crushed her in his arms. “You’re so beautiful!” he cried. He stroked her hair, cradling her against him as tight as he dared. “And you!” He looked up at the witcher in the hall, reaching out to him and taking his hand. “Which one are you? Say something now, quickly. Let me hear your voice and know you.”

“Eskel,” he answered. And then Jaskier was up on his feet, pulling him into another embrace.

“Eskel!” Jaskier cheered. “Eskel, you look even more heroic than I ever imagined! Oh, let me look at you. Oh, oh! Lambert! Vesemir! Where are you, come forward!”

He dashed into the hall, only to turn on his heel for another look at Eskel, for just one more eyeful of Ciri. Over her shoulder, he saw Geralt sitting there on the bed, his yellow eyes wide, the tears still clinging to his chin.

“Oh,” Jaskier whispered. “Oh, I see. I see.”

He walked forward, gliding a hand beneath Geralt’s jaw. He touched his eyes with his other hand. Carefully, he wiped the last of Geralt’s tears away. It dangled, a little drop at the tip of his finger and he brought it close. He closed his hands around it, cradled them to his chest.

Geralt stood slowly before him. And he smiled.

Ciri tugged at Jaskier’s shirt, her head turned away politely. She cleared her throat and said, “Jaskier? Lambert and Vesemir are on their way up. And you’re … well, you’re not at your most presentable.”

Eskel averted his eyes, his back turned to the scene, however touching. “You might want to get a bit more dressed. And quickly,” he added, for Jaskier was standing in his smallclothes.

Jaskier snorted. “All of you, turn away for decency’s sake! We’re having a moment, here.”

“And what about me?” Geralt asked. “Shall I look away?”

It was nothing but empty jest and Jaskier smiled. “No,” he replied. “No, you’re looking where you’re needed. But I suppose to be fair …”

He clapped a hand over Geralt’s eyes. He leaned forward, whispering against Geralt’s lips. “There. Now no one can see. No one … but me.”

There were no witnesses to that first kiss. It was a secret Jaskier kept for himself.

However, the second, third, and forth had quite a startled audience, as Geralt and Jaskier both fell deaf to the clatter of footsteps in the hall. Ciri took it upon herself to usher the others from the room, explaining on the way. After all, with the curse lifted, she no longer needed to be Jaskier’s eyes. His mouth, however, was currently occupied.

-

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[villainousshakespeare]

Stalking the King Chapter 3

Chapter 1, Chapter 2

Henry V/OFC

Multi-Chapter

Historical AU, Historical Romance, Enemies to Lovers, Eventual Smut, Angst, Sexual Tension, Bathing

Lisabet is a high born Lady of Oleans, France. When King Henry V conquers her city, taking her brother hostage along with other nobles, she vows to be revenged upon the foreign invader and rescue her brother. Dressed in boys clothing she hopes to escape notice in Henry’s camp, but the English King has a much more perceptive eye than she anticipated.

A bit of a plot heavy chapter, but I hope you like it nonetheless!

Lisabeta had seen no more than a glimpse of Henry’s sun kissed locks as he strode away that morning. Not, of course, that she wanted to see the King. She had seen enough of him last night. More than enough, she added, as the image of him in all his naked splendor slipped its way into her mind.

That vexing image seemed to be branded into her brain, so often did she find herself thinking of it when she let her mind drift. His skin, dotted with freckles and crossed with scars that somehow failed to detract from his masculine beauty. The breadth of his shoulders that tapered slowly, over a long distance, to his narrow hips. How could one so unquestionably awful be so unquestionably awe arousing? It was simply not fair!

She had barely slept last night, so active had been her mind. Her body also seemed more alive than usual. There was a curious heat within her, to the point that she wondered if she was feverish. Her skin tingled, and her stomach felt unsettled. Most distracting of all was the odd ache she felt in her womanly organs. She was not due for her courses for weeks, why was she feeling so out of sorts there? She didn’t know, but she was more than willing to blame the English King.

She hated him, more than she had ever hated anyone. He had toyed with her, she knew it! And yet, how could that be when to him she was simply one of his pages. The fact that he had treated her with such disinterest and disregard only meant her disguise was working, for no well born man, even an Englishman, would ever behave so in front of gently bread lady. And yet it maddened her to no end that he had been so with her. She wanted more than ever to find him and run him through with her sword. If she had to wait on him again, no doubt she would do so.

And yet, it was even more insufferable that he did not send for her. Lisabeta was not a woman used to being overlooked, particularly by men. She commanded attention the moment she arrived in a room by virtue of both her looks and her natural spirit. To be forced to sit idly waiting for Henry to call on her was not to be endured.

Around midday of the day following the tent incident she had been sent for, but it was not the King who had called her. She was beginning to wonder what pages were expected to do in a royal camp, and how she was to maintain her anonymity. The night before she had simply found a place on the ground near a fire, using her saddle roll as a pillow and her cloak as a blanket. It was a long night, with only restless sleeping on the hard ground, but she had endured it. In the morning she had snuck between a tent and a wagon towards the tree line and relieved herself, frantic lest someone should see her. It could not go on like this for long, and she knew it.

When summons had come, she assumed it was from the King. After all, who else knew she was there? Instead, she had been brought to a smaller tent not far from where the Royal Standard flew. A desk took up most of the space, somehow both neat and cluttered with papers and ink. Sitting behind it was a thin, balding man who looked less like a soldier that Lisabet herself. She guessed him to be her father’s age, and dark circles ringed his eyes.

“You are Phillipe Cavot, the King’s new page?” the man asked in a voice as tired as his eyes.

“I am, my Lord, what would you have with me?” Lisabeta struggled to make her voice sound more like an anxious page and less like a confident lady.

“King Henry thought I might make use of you,” the man sounded uncertain as he looked her over.

What! The King was handing her off like so much unwanted baggage to one of his underlings? Lisabeta seethed internally. How dare he be so high handed?

“Did he indeed, how generous of him,” she bit off.

“I thought it so, if what he says is true,” the man’s voice was mild and slightly perplexed at her answer. “Your hand, I take it, is decipherable? If so, you will be better than the last. I am Laurence, Henry’s secretary. I have a stack of documents to write, and time is not a friend to me of late. You will assist me here with all my work. I know it is less exciting task to aid a secretary than knight. But here at least some comfort does exist. There is a cot for you to sleep upon, and there behind the screen a chamber pot. Perhaps it is no luxury for you, but when one reaches my age, one will find such niceties are of a great import.”

Lisabeta was at first inclined to be outraged, if only because outrage seemed to be her reaction to all that Henry said or did. To be stuck in this tent with a reedy man with a reedy voice all day was not the reason why she had come here. On the other hand, it did neatly solve both of her core problems. It was as if providence had given her a way to stay until she figured out the next step in her plan.

In addition to all of this, it occurred to Lisabeta that this could be just the place she needed to be. If this man was King Henry’s secretary, then the documents scattered about his desk took on an entirely new interest to her. It was possible that hidden among the mounds of papers that looked to be mostly correspondences could be maps, perhaps even battle plans, detailing the English forces’ intentions. If she could put her hands on those documents, it could be a turning point in this war.

In her mind, Lisabeta pushed away the picture of Henry mercilessly and in its place forced in what must be seen as a happier view. She would wait until the secretary had left, of perhaps gone to sleep as it looked like he must soon do. Once he was out of the way, she would find the betraying documents, copy them down, and slip from the camp. How easy would it be then to send them via courier, or maybe even bring them herself, to the French King and his constable in Paris? Lisabeta could singlehandedly win this wretched war for France!

It was a plan, and she would see it done. She need never cross paths with the arrogant King Henry again. Let him preen around his camp in the mud for another day or two, she would not be there to wash it from his body. And all the better for that, she insisted to herself, even as she fought back regret.

***

“Your Majesty, what brings you to our tents?” Sir Stephen Boyd asked, beginning to drop to one knee in the mud before Henry waved away the need.

“My restless legs that needed room to stretched,” Henry laughed good naturedly. “How goes it with our enforced visitors?”

“Well, my Lord, when all is said and done. One little lad no more than three years old did give us all some trouble at the start.”

“Precocious lad! How did he manage that?”

“With screaming morn and night, to wake the dead. I tell you Sire, I’ve seen my share of war. I’ve fought in wars whose blood would fill a lake, and thought my life was ended more than once. But never have I known a greater fear than when the cub did last drift off to sleep and any noise did threaten our brief peace.”

Henry could not but laugh at the thought of the bluff old knight fearing a lad of three. The very sight of him proclaimed the battles he spoke of. Still, there lived inside the blustery warrior a soft heart. Henry remembered being found out by Sir Stephen after his first taste of battle. An overwhelmed squire, Henry had been horrified by the carnage he had witnessed. Ashamed of himself, he had hidden behind a wagon to empty his stomach before crouching down trembling from the shock, terrified lest someone should see him so unmanned.

But when Sir Stephen had discovered him, the older knight had not mocked or scolded him. Instead, he had hunched down next to him and handed over a flask of water for Henry to rinse his mouth. After Henry had stopped shaking, Sir Stephen had spoken to him in a matter of fact voice, telling him that all men of intellect were shaken by the reality of war. It was only the dull or the cruel who escaped unscathed. Any man worth following would react as Henry had, he opined, and he was proud that his future lord was such a one. With a nod, he had risen and walked away, leaving behind the water and a more thoughtful Henry.

It was because of this innate compassion that Henry had chosen him to have custody of the hostages. Other, higher ranked men had chafed, wanting the potentially lucrative position where they could extort money from anxiety ridden parents. Henry had thwarted them all, placing in stead an honorable man who would do his best to keep the young hostages safe and well looked after.

“A mighty terror indeed, how solved you it?” he asked now with a shudder.

“I handed off the boy to Mistress Mead,” Sir Stephen replied, face reddening. “She’s wife to Seargent Mead, a doughty man, and raised a brood of children of her own. I know your Grace did put him in my charge, but at his age he needs a woman’s care. I hope you know I meant no harm by it. I’d trust the goodwife my very life.”

“As I trust you with mine, my blustery friend,” Henry assured him. “I should have thought to do so from the start. I thank you, Sir, for seeing to it now.”

They stood in companionable silence for a while, watching a pair of lads in oversized helmets batter at each other. Henry wasn’t entirely sure why he had come here. He had been at his desk going over the papers his secretary had left for him, but his mind was not really focused. He needed to walk, to exercise. To get away from his tent where his eyes and mind kept drifting over to the large tub where the Gascoigne lass had bathed him two nights before. He had not been able to stop thinking of her since.

It was only because he had been celibate, he assured himself. That was the reason why he had responded so strongly to the chit. She was completely lacking skill in her ministrations. Her touch had been hesitant, shy, barely skimming over his skin. And yet, that had changed as she proceeded. She had grown bolder, pulling slightly on his hair, rubbing his aching shoulders and back. He had been loud in his appreciation, moaning as he felt the tension and stiffness melt out of him.

Well, it had melted out of his upper body, his lower body had been an entirely different story. As her hands drifted lower, his erection had become painful in its insistence. She was just inches away, all it would take was a small dip down for her soft hand to be wrapped around his length. He had wanted it with an intensity that left him throbbing. If he had not sent her away at that point, he would have dragged her into the tub with him.

It was a thought that kept occurring to him through the night and all the next day.

He thought he had hit on the perfect solution by handing her off to Laurence. The man could use an extra hand, and he could only imagine the girl’s education had included penmanship. He could not have her running about his camp, just waiting for someone to realize she was a woman, for god’s sake. She was a scandal just waiting to happen, in no small part because she seemed incapable of staying unobtrusive.

Laurance, on the other hand, could be trusted implicitly with her. The man was discreet to a fault, as one who preferences were as his had to be in their society. As Henry suspected, he had sussed out her true nature the first day, but rather than confront her with it had quietly brought it to his King’s attention. When Henry indicated that he knew her identity, but wished to do nothing for present, his secretary had sighed but nodded, mumbling that at least she had a passable hand a quick mind, if an even quicker tongue. She would be safe with him until he decided how to proceed.

He just needed to find out more about her, which brought him to his current location.

“Tell me, Sir, how does the young Gascoigne?” he asked, attempting nonchalance.

“Little Phillipe? He does right well, my Lord,” Stephen answered, slight curiosity in his voice. “That be him over there, the one in blue. He’ll make a proper Knight if ‘ere he grows. A bit to clever, like to one I know. But taking to account his lineage and vast side of the force he’ll one day lead, that is no bad thing, as I think you know.”

Henry watched the boy as he traded blows with another a head taller than him. He saw what Sir Stephen alluded to. The larger boy clearly had strength and reach on his side, but Phillipe easily side stepped the attacks launched on him. He had an excellent eye for what his opponent was about to do next. If only he had a better control of his own weapon. Acting on instinct, Henry strode forward, grabbing a practice sword from the wrack as he did.

“Your grip is wrong, if I may intercede?”

He didn’t raise his voice, he seldom did, but the two boys drew back, instantly lowering their blades. Phillipe dropped to one knee, and after a slight pause the other boy did the same, removing their borrowed helms.

“Rise up, Phillipe, I’ll show you how it’s done,” he offered, along with his hand to help the boy to rise.

He was a handsome lad, Henry observed. Very much the boyish version of his sister. Henry was continually amused at how everyone else took her for a boy. Her hips were obviously those of a woman, and the combination of padding and binding did not completely hide her other curves. On top of that, the planes of her face were more feminine, if older and sharper than the boy before him.

He spent the next hour happily helping Phillipe improve his grip. The boy had stamina, and after the first few moments lost his stiffness with the King. Henry enjoyed physical activity of all sorts and had been unhappy with the idleness. The lesson was just what he had needed to restore his good humor.

“Well done, my lad, I think you have the trick,” he said at last, setting aside his sword and ruffling the boy’s hair.

“I thank you, Sire, for sparing me your time,” Phillipe said shyly, panting a bit. “I father doth despair of my poor skill. Why even my own sister Lisabet can best me when it cometh to the blade.”

“Ah, Lisabet! That is your sister’s name!” Henry said, remembering now that he had heard the lovely moniker before.

“Why yes, my Lord, but know you Lisabet?”

Henry cursed silently, damning his tongue for saying the name out loud. A lovely name, he thought, although perhaps too soft for the sassy brat who had infiltrated his camp.

“By reputation only, to my woe,” he said with an easy smile to, “I hear she is the jewel of all of France.”

“So all do say, though I do see it not,” the boy made a face all brothers of sisters would recognize before continuing to ramble. “A willful fury, with a biting tongue is more the face that she does show to me. But those who know the fashion of the world have dubbed her oft an incomparable. My parents seek to make for her a match with every single gentleman of name.”

“And is there any one she most prefers?” Henry asked, irritated at the idea that the innocent vixen in his tent last night might be promised to another.

“No, not when last I spoke to her, my Lord. Papa would wed her to Lord Constable, I heard him say the match was all but made. But Lisabet just curled her lip at that. I think she fancies more to be a queen, or empress who could manage one and all. She certainly does like to get her way. But do not, please, mistake me good my Lord. Though she can be a right pain in my side, she is at heart a loving sister still. She wept when I did leave to be our pledge.”

“Belike she thought I meant to use you ill. I hope, Phillip, that has not been the case?”

“Why no, my Lord, though I should say it not, the days that I have spent here in your camp seem almost as a holiday to me!”

“Then I am glad to give you such a treat. You must inform your sister of the truth.

“I will when I am back at home with her. She will just roll her eyes and scoff at me and tell me that I do betray our house. She would have had us fight till all were dead, or ere she ever flew the flag of truce.” 

“She sounds a truly formidable foe. How glad I am I had to fight her naught.”

 “As you should be, she wields a blade with skill!”

“Gascoigne, will you talk the good king mad? Come over here and help to clean the blades!”

Chastised by the should from Sir Stephen, the boy ducked his head and bowed to Henry before running over to assist in the work. Henry smiled in reply, but him mind was elsewhere. So, his fiery, would be page was set to marry the Constable of France? And, moreover, she was a fierce opponent of the peace with England. That would not bode well for Henry or for Fance. He hoped to settle the matter of his sovereignty, and the good Constable was a stumbling block in his way. If the man were wed to a woman of passion who stood against Henry’s claim, he would be only more likely to dig in and voice his dissent. No, Henry did not think he could allow such a union to take place.

It had nothing at all, of course, to do with his own attraction to the woman.

@yespolkadotkitty @just-the-hiddles @hopelessromanticspoonie @wine-and-whines @arch-venus25 @caffiend-queen @devilish–doll @enchantedbyhiddles @hiddlesholic @i-do-not-fangirl-i-fanwoman @kellatron55 @ladyoftheteaandblood @latent-thoughts @yespolkadotkitty@maryxglz @myoxisbroken @nuggsmum @nildespirandum @pedeka @redfoxwritesstuff @sinfully-lustful-darling @vodka-and-some-sass @wrathkitty @kingtwhiddleston​ @wolfsmom1 @poetic-fiasco @shiningloki @dangertoozmanykids101 @bookworm-christina @amwolowicz @delightfulheartdream @frostbitten-written @what-a-flammable-heart @tom-hlover @nonsensicalobsessions @myraiswack @loki-yoursaviourishere @ghostypau @justthehiddleswrites @ms-cellanies @colorfulfreakstudentpizza​

[thatsamericano]

Screaming and Fighting and Kissing in the Rain

Pairing/Characters: America/Romano. Past Prussia/Romano, minor Cankraine.

Rating: Teen, for cursing. Also, suggestive implications at the end, but nothing even remotely explicit on-screen.

Warnings: Self-esteem issues, including body image issues. Mentions of violence that aren’t carried out. An unwanted kiss between Prussia and Romano due to miscommunication, but Prussia respects Romano’s boundaries when he makes them clear.

Word Count: 2412

Summary: America gets upset when he plans to meet up with Romano after a meeting and sees Romano and Prussia kissing when he gets to the restaurant. Romano has to chase after America in a rainstorm to make things right.

A/N: Written for Romerica/Itapan Week Day 2: “Kissing in the Rain.” Title taken from “The Way I Loved You” by Taylor Swift.

Despite changing his outfit twice, adding an extra spritz of cologne, and taming his hair as much as he could, Romano still managed to be fifteen minutes early to the restaurant. He ordered a drink at the bar and browsed Twitter on his phone as he impatiently waited for America to show up.

This wasn’t a date, so there was no reason for him to be so nervous, Savino reminded himself. It was just supposed to be “dinner and drinks” with a friend after the world meeting, but Alfred had seemed so excited about spending time with him that an incredibly stupid part of Savino was hoping he could manage to turn this evening in another direction. Savino wanted that part of him to shut the fuck up.

So when Prussia showed up at the bar and sat down on the adjacent stool, Savino slipped his phone into his pocket and engaged in a bit of lighthearted bickering back and forth. Gilbert was a useful distraction that would help him appear relaxed instead of jittery and anxious by the time America showed up.

Romano’s mind was so fixated on America and their date that wasn’t a date that he missed signals he would have ordinarily noticed. He only realized things had gone too far when suddenly Prussia’s mouth was on top of his, and his hand was inching up from Romano’s knee onto his thigh (and when the hell did it land on his knee anyway?).

Romano tore his mouth away and shoved Prussia’s hand off him before it could climb any higher. “What the fuck do you think you’re doing?!” Romano squawked.

Prussia gave him that annoying, smarmy smirk he was way too used to. “Trying to turn you on so you’ll agree to come back to my hotel room with me. Is it working?”

Savino scoffed and picked up his drink. “Hardly. That hasn’t worked in a century, asshole.” He took a large gulp and picked at a cocktail napkin nervously. “Besides, I can’t go to your hotel room tonight. I planned to have dinner with someone else.”

“Oh, you’ve got a date?” Prussia asked. Now that sex was off the table, he was curious in a purely friendly manner.

“Not quite. I’m uh… supposed to be meeting America here in a few minutes.” Savino smiled nervously, in a way that must have given away his true intentions, because Gilbert laughed like Savino had said something incredibly hilarious.

“That sounds like a date to me.”

Savino opened his mouth, but before he could issue a flustered denial, he saw an enraged Canada marching towards the bar with an umbrella clenched in his fist like a sword he was about to wield against some very unlucky victim. Ukraine was right behind him, and she was fluttering her hands in the air and whispering, but clearly it wasn’t calming her boyfriend down at all. America’s brother could be downright scary when he was pissed off, so Romano wisely closed his mouth and shrank back against the bar.

Canada pointed a finger straight at Romano. “You!”

“Me?”

“What the fuck did you do to my brother?!” Canada snarled, resembling a polar bear. A fully grown, vicious mama bear, not the cute little cub he carried around with him sometimes.

“I… I didn’t do anything, I swear—”

“Well, somebody must have done something! Because Alfred practically ran out of here crying, and Alfie doesn’t cry like that for no reason! I know for a fact he was supposed to be hanging out with you tonight because he told me all about it after the meeting! He was so happy about getting to spend time with you, and now look what you’ve done!”

Romano felt nauseous with guilt. “Fredo was crying?”

Ukraine nodded solemnly. “I’ve never seen him like that before. Matviy tried to ask him what was wrong, but Alfred was so upset he couldn’t even answer him.”

“Shit,” Prussia whispered. He turned to look at Romano. “Do you think he saw us kissing and got the wrong idea?”

Canada ground his teeth together and gave Prussia a look that was colder than the chilliest day in the Arctic. Ukraine put a hand on her boyfriend’s bicep to keep him from lunging forward to beat the shit out of Gilbert like he clearly wanted to.

Savino hopped down from his barstool. “This is all a horrible, hideous misunderstanding. Where do you think Alfred went?”

Matthew released an irritated huff of air. “He was going out the front door. He’s probably on his way back to the hotel now.”

“Grazie.” Romano dashed past Canada and Ukraine and dodged a couple waiters and a few drenched guests on his way out the front door.

When he pushed open the restaurant’s heavy front door, Savino was instantly confronted by a harsh wind whipping through his hair and rain pelting down on him as thunder boomed from the clouds. The sky, which had been merely overcast earlier, was now in the midst of a full thunderstorm, but Romano didn’t care about getting wet or ruining his Armani suit or Ferragamo shoes. He only cared because the inclement weather made it harder for him to see.

Romano swung his gaze desperately around the street and quickly spotted a blond man in a business suit swiftly walking down the block several meters ahead of him. Romano ran towards him and started yelling.

“Alfred! Alfred, slow down so I can talk to you, damn it!”

When he got closer, he could see that the man he was chasing was indeed America, and that his shoulders were trembling. He was sobbing, just like Canada had said. “Leave me alone! Go back to making out with Prussia! That’s what you’d rather do anyway!”

“Don’t tell me what I fucking want, idiota!” He was close enough now to grab America’s jacket, which he did, forcing America to turn around and face him. “If I wanted to make out with Prussia, I wouldn’t be out here in the rain yelling at you!”

America’s face was met with a mixture of rainwater and tears. He was soaked through to the bone, just like Romano was, and his electric blue eyes were swimming with misery and betrayal.

“You know, Vinny, it’s bad enough that I had to walk into that restaurant, expecting that I’d get to spend time with you, alone, and see you shoving your tongue down Prussia’s throat. But I at least thought you respected me enough to not lie right to my face. Guess I was wrong!”

Romano shook his head. “That’s not what happened, damn it! If you’d just listen, I could explain—”

America made a noise between a derisive laugh and a wet, hiccupping sob. “Explain?! Explain what?! Let me guess, it didn’t mean anything, and you and Gil are just good buddies! Because kissing your friend like that is a totally normal thing to do, right?!”

Savino’s throat was closing up, and he didn’t know what to say. Because Alfred was half-right in his hysterical shouting. A long time ago, he had kissed Gilbert like that, and even slept with him, but their relationship had never turned romantic. There had been mutual interest and mutual understanding between them, but never love. He would have never run away crying into a rainstorm if he’d seen Prussia kissing someone else, and he knew Prussia wouldn’t have either.

Which made him wonder: why the hell was America reacting like this? He was acting like Romano had ripped out his heart, stomped on it, and then laughed about it while high-fiving Prussia, which didn’t make any sense, unless…

“Fredo, do… do you want me to kiss you?”

Alfred whimpered like Savino had just stabbed him in the guts. He hunched his shoulders to shrink down as much as his tall frame would allow and squeezed his eyes shut. “I get it, okay? Gil is… he’s more attractive than me. He’s less fat, for starters. He can be loud too, but most people aren’t as annoyed by him as they are me. He’s older and smarter than I am, so he’d actually know how to kiss people. Of course you’d want to be with him instead of me.”

The thunder rumbled ominously as Romano reached out to touch America’s shoulder. “That’s not true. None of that is true.” Dio, it hurt to hear Alfred talk about himself like this. Like he was nothing. Like his feelings, which were clearly hurt, didn’t matter.

America continued, disregarding what Romano had said.  “It’s okay. You don’t have to try to make me feel better. I know you don’t like me the way I like you. You’ve got every right to kiss Prussia or whoever it is you want. But I’d appreciate it if you didn’t kiss them right in front of me, because it hurts. It hurts a lot more than you realize.” Alfred’s lower lip wobbled dangerously, and Savino could barely hear his voice over the wind and rain. “I’ve never… I’ve never even wanted to kiss anyone other than you. Talk about pathetic, right?” Then Alfred started weeping too hard to continue speaking and making these awful, animalistic, heartbreaking noises Savino never, ever wanted to hear again.

Savino reached up to wipe the tears and rainwater away from his cheeks. “You’re not pathetic, amore. You’re gorgeous, and smart, and fucking amazing. I don’t care if it takes all night, I am going to stand here in the rain with you until you believe me.”

Alfred sniffled and looked down at Savino like he was some strange, otherworldly creature he’d never seen before. “Did… did you just call me amore?”

Romano felt a white-hot flash of embarrassment at having his openly sappy words pointed out to him, but that only made him more determined and stubborn. “That’s right, I fucking did! You better get used to it, because I like you a lot, damn it! And that means I get to call you whatever sappy shit I want!”

Alfred laughed and pulled him closer by the waist. “You can call me whatever you want, baby doll. Just as long as you aren’t calling Prussia that too.”

Savino rolled his eyes and vainly pretended he wasn’t shivering from the possessive tone America had used with him or the ridiculous pet name. “For the record, I’ve never called Prussia amore, even when I was hooking up with him. And I wasn’t kissing him earlier. He kissed me, and I pushed him away.”

Alfred tilted his head and grinned. “You wouldn’t push me away if I kissed you right now, would you, Vinny?”

Savino had never felt more exasperated. “Honestly, the fact that you even have to ask—”

Alfred chuckled and leaned down to kiss him, and Savino closed his eyes. At first, Alfred was tentative and uncertain, but with Savino’s encouragement, he gradually grew more confident. His lips were cold and wet from the rain, which wasn’t ideal, because Romano was not a fan of this kind of weather. He obviously didn’t know what to do with his hands, but the fact they were roaming all over Romano’s back like he couldn’t touch him in enough places was flattering as hell. Overall, it wasn’t perfect, but the kiss was equal parts loving and desperate, so it was pretty damn incredible.

Then, with no warning, America lifted Romano’s feet off the ground like he weighed nothing at all. Savino groaned into his mouth and wrapped his legs around Alfred’s hips so he wouldn’t fall over. And because the fact Alfred could just lift him up like that was stupidly hot and making his mind wander to ideas he definitely wanted to explore somewhere more private than this very public sidewalk in front of God knows how many people.

He was a panting, horny mess by the time Alfred pulled away to breathe. Alfred was still holding Savino up, like he could do this all night, and he was smirking.

“Well, how was it? Was I better than Prussia?”

Romano smacked his shoulder without putting much force behind it. “You don’t have to beg for compliments. It was better than anyone I’ve ever been with. Especially the part where you lifted me off the ground.”

“I could carry you around like this for hours. I could pin you up against a wall too, if there was a wall nearby.”

“You should definitely do that at some point. But for now, I’d like to stand again.”

America obediently set Romano back down on his feet and let go of his waist. He gestured back down the street, from whence they had come. “We had dinner plans earlier. Do you want to go back to the restaurant, or…”

“It’s getting late. I think we should go back to the hotel.”

Alfred took his hand and led him down the street. “Makes sense. The hotel has room service. Plus a shower with hot water and fluffy towels. We can get warm, change into dry clothes, then order something to eat.”

He squeezed Alfred’s hand. “The hotel also has walls. And beds that are definitely too big for just one person.”

Alfred’s eyes widened, and he choked on air. “That’s… yeah. Lots of good stuff at the hotel.”

Savino smiled to himself without saying anything. As smooth and seductive as Alfred might pretend to be, this was entirely new territory for him, so he was naturally overwhelmed. It wouldn’t help him to know that his innocence was one of the most adorable things Savino had ever seen.

The light was red when they arrived at the crosswalk, and they had to stop to let cars pass by. Romano leaned up to kiss America’s cheek, and America gave him a puzzled look afterwards.

He shrugged, feigning nonchalance as best he could. “I just love you is all.”

Alfred beamed down at him, brighter than the high-beams of passing cars. “I love you too.” He tilted Savino’s chin up and kissed the bridge of his nose. “And I cannot wait to take you home with me.”

Home, hotel, a colony on the moon… at the moment, Romano would gladly go wherever America would take him. When the crosswalk light turned, he grimaced at the fact his Ferragamos had to wade through a muddy, filthy puddle, but it was worth it to be a few steps closer to a hotel room where they could finally be alone at last.

[dellyduck]

A Pirate’s Life For Me

@rip-in-pieces-my-last-braincell It took me a day and a bit but I DID IT! 2.145 words, I hope you like it!

Just so you know, it has been ages since I’ve watched the movies, and this is not an official version, I just wanted to use as many characters as possible. The only characters that are mean to be in place are Kit, Della and Wildcat.

-

At some point of their long travel, even Della’s endless energy had come to an end. Donald felt relief for that at first, enjoying the rare peace and quiet in his life. However, as time passed by, the minutes being dragged at the same pace their ship calmly, quietly sailed through the fog, Donald almost wished his sister would still be running and climbing and screaming around.

The small twins were sitting side by side on a crate, eyes on the fog and ocean ahead without really paying attention to it. Donald didn’t know why or exactly when, but Della suddenly broke the silence by humming a not so unfamiliar melody. His fingers moved almost like an involuntary reflex and before the boy noticed, he was carefully playing the melody on his guitar. That was the moment Della chose to turn her humming into words.

“Drink up, me harties, yo-ho. Yo-ho, yo-ho... A pirate’s life for me. We extort, we pilfer, we filch, we sack, drink up-”

Della’s voice and Donald’s fingers where abruptly stopped when each twin had an adult hand grabbing their shoulders.

“Hush now, kids,” said the adult, in a tone of warning and looking around in agitation. “Real pirates travel in these waters, and the legends say that singing their songs is basically calling for them.”

“Wildcat!” shouted the voice with a tick Scottish accent that the kids knew very well. Their Uncle Scrooge didn’t look pleased as he approached them with his cane. “Ah would appreciate it if ye could not fill ma nephew and niece’s heads with untrue legends of the sea.”

“But they are true, Mr. McDee,” Wildcat insisted. “It’s bad luck to sing about pirates, everyone knows that.”

Donald gulped at these words, dropping his guitar at once; as if he needed more bad luck. Della, by other hand, didn’t look frightened in the slightest as the talk continued, captain Baloo breaking in to add his two cents.

“Wildcat’s not lying, Mr. McDuck, it’s common knowledge between us mans of the sea. And specially with us in the middle of this weird fog, I dunno ya but I’m not here to take risks.”

“Bah, fine,” Scrooge dismissed the topic with a hand. “If ye two are so bothered, they will stop singing.”

For Donald, his uncle didn’t need to say twice, looking forward for when the adults decided to change topics.

But Della didn’t seem ready to let go of this talk yet, “I think it’d be exciting to meet a real pirate,” she declared with her usual, innocent cheer.

Scrooge chuckled humorless, “Think again, lass.” He narrowed his eyes at the fog, as if daring the pirates who could be hiding behind it.

“Vile and dissolute creatures, all of them. Stealing without a care from those who earned their belongs fair and square.” Scrooge felt very much like spitting on the floor, but that was a habit from his old life and not a proper reaction from a governor. “If ye ask me, any person who dares to answer by the name pirate deserves the same fate: A short drop and a sudden stop.”

While Donald’s confused eyes didn’t move from their uncle’s face, Della turned her head to Baloo in search for answers. The captain hesitated for a moment, but in the end, he dropped a hand from the rudder, using it to grab the kerchief around his neck. By the way he stretched the tissue, dropping his head and letting his tongue roll off his mouth, Della quickly caught the message.

With a now frightened gasp, the girl snapped her head back forward, her wide eyes staring at the ship’s floor.

It was her reaction that made Scrooge notice his wee niblings’ faces to his last commentary. He then dropped his vexed expression for a concerned one. Oh marvelous, Hortense was going to kill him.

“Erh, but enough of pirate talks, aye? Ye kids enjoy the rest of the trip, with no singing,” he added before walking away to another part of the ship.

The twins just exchanged a look between each other, as if asking “what now?”. After a moment with no answer, Donald simply decided to jump off the crate and walk towards Baloo. Donald loved ships, boats, and the sea itself, and he was always eager to learn more about them, so it wasn’t hard for Della to imagine her brother’s plans.

Because of that, she stayed behind, looking around for something that would be of her interest. She found it when her eyes once again fell over the nets that leaded to the crow’s nest. Della had climbed it not even two hours ago, but the current boredom and the memory of the way she felt being up there were enough to make up her mind.

Della was lucky. Her parents were less strict than her friends’ about how a young lady should behave (although dresses and good manners were still a must) and her uncle didn’t give a feather if his ten-year-old niece acted boyish during their expeditions. That was how the girl got so good on activities like climbing.

Firmly grabbing the ropes, Della climbed up every step with patience, but no hesitation until she hit the middle of the net. There, she stopped. Dropping her right hand from the net, Della turned around on a complete 180°. She was facing the ocean now.

The fog turned the view way less appealing than it was a couple hours ago, but the duckling didn’t really mind. Just being up there, with wind in her hair, felling so free that it was almost like she could fly, was everything the young girl could wish for.

Della closed her eyes to breathe in deeply. But when she opened them again, her smile was quickly dropped when something through the fog caught her attention.

There was something on the water, floating.

Della needed to narrow her eyes to recognize a large wooden board. And laid on it, there was…

“A boy!” she exclaimed, starting to climb down the fastest she could, while still shouting. “Uncle Scrooge!! Baloo, Wildcat, look!”

The three men rushed to her, Scrooge grabbing her shoulders and checking his niece up and down after any wound in the instant Della was back on the ground.

“Lass, what’s the meaning-”

“A boy!” Della didn’t wait her uncle to finish, this time pointing a finger to where the floating board was. “Look, there’s a boy on the water!”

In the meantime that it took Della to climb down, the board had floated to even closer to the ship. Which allowed the three men to easily catch sight of the young, unconscious, brown-furred bear on it. Baloo’s eyes went wide, and he shouted,

“MAN OVERBOARD!”

Five more men from the crew came running to help, and with all of them working fast and together, it was a matter of seconds before the boy was out of the water and in Baloo’s arms. Della could just watch all the commotion from some steps behind, trying to get a better look, but the men were too tall and crowded to allow her any sight. She was able, however, to hear when Baloo declared,

“He’s still breathing.”

“For all the seven seas!” Della almost yelped at that sudden scream. When had Donald stopped by her side??

Nonetheless, her brother was looking even more frightened. Turning around and following his gaze, the girl could easily see why: hundreds of different types of merch floating on the water, them all coming from a ship, not so different from the one they were, crashing and burning in the middle of the ocean.

Scrooge, Baloo and Wildcat rushed to approach them and see it too, every man around trying to understand what could’ve happened there. Baloo wanted to believe in the easiest option, that merchant ships carry a lot of weaponry and somehow, accidentally, the powder was lit. But a tiny, distant voice in his mind wouldn’t let another, more scary option rest.

“P-p-pirates?” Donald gulped.

“Ah donnae know, lad, but we better be prepared for everything. Captain!” Scrooge started to command, and quickly everyone on the boat had a new role to play. Except for the little ones. “Donald, I want you to stay with me. Della-”

Scrooge cut himself off when he saw his niece wasn’t standing by her brother’s side anymore. Luckily, he just needed a quick look around to find the white duckling in a gray dress. It shouldn’t have surprised him that she was standing near their new crewmember. Scrooge walked to them, arriving just as a sailor took the boy from the ground, to take him away from the ship’s side edge.

“Della,” he called again, this time getting her attention. “I want you to accompany the boy. He will be in your charge. Take care of him.”

“Yes, Uncle Scrooge,” Della nodded, before following the sailor.

The brown cub was put to rest over the same crate the Duck twins had been sitting just some minutes ago. As she approached, Della knew she had a better chance to observe the boy now. He looked her age, maybe older for one or two years, if that much. His worn, patched up green sweater was completely soaked, and so was his fur, causing some of hair to fall over his eyes.

Gingerly as her housekeeper had taught her, Della touched his locks, gently moving them away. But no matter how gently, that disturbance alone was enough to wake the boy up with a chocked scream, grabbing her wrist with a shaking, yet strong hand.

Della sighed, trying to calm down her heart from the scare, before meeting his eyes. Petrified browns against calming light blues.

“It’s okay, I’m not going to hurt you. You’re safe now,” she guaranteed. “My name’s Della. Della Duck.”

“Kit,” he sounded breathless, scared, and tired. “Kit Cloudkicker.”

At that new piece of information, Della smiled.

“I’ll be watching over you, Kit.”

It’s like that was all the boy needed to hear, his grasp on her wrist loosening as his body fell unconscious once again.

Della kept her promise and stayed by his side, glad that now Kit looked more asleep than dead. It was while watching him that she noticed something loose around his neck. Touching it, Della easily recognized a red kerchief. Chances were high that it was just a piece of tissue, a cheap, meaningless adornment… But what if it was something his parents gave him? A memory of his family who, if traveling on that now burning ship, were probably no long in this world?

Biting her cheek, Della carefully took the kerchief within her hands, planning to keep it safe, maybe even wash it, before giving it back to Kit when he woke up-

Any thought was frozen, her heart leaping in surprise when she saw the drawing printed on Kit’s kerchief. She had never seen it before herself, but by the stories, Della knew exactly what the drawing of the white skull meant.

“You’re a… pirate?”

“Vile and dissolute creatures, all of them,” Uncle Scrooge’s words echoed in her head, alongside everything Della had heard about the bandits of the sea. But as she looked up to the boy again, she couldn’t see it. Kit didn’t look vile; he didn’t sound vile. He was just a kid, like her and Donald.

“Did he say anything?”

Della jumped, quickly crumpling the tissue in her hand, and hiding it behind her back as she turned around to face Baloo. He was accompanied by some other men of the crew, and not so distantly, the girl could see her uncle as well. Before she could even notice there was a choice to be made, Della was already executing her decision.

“His name’s Kit Cloudkicker. That’s all I found out.”

Baloo simply nodded, not looking suspicious of anything. After the last events, it was normal that such a young girl would be a little jumpy.

“We’re gonna take him bellow, alright missy? Our doctor can treat him better there.” The captain explained.

It was Della’s turn to nod, stepping behind so Baloo could take Kit in his arms again. The girl watched as they left, knowing she should be following them, but first and foremost, she needed a better place than her closed fist to hide that kerchief.

Confirming there was no one around her, Della opened her hand and the tissue again. Her eyes meticulously scanning the red fabric as her fingers caressed the skull figure.

At this point, this day was clearly one to be remembered by Della. But when she raised her head to catch sight of another ship on the distance, the same skull figure flapping on a black flag at the mast… Those few seconds were marked in her memory like a burn.

[yunatheintrovert]

shot through the heart (and you’re to blame) | Chapter 1 [Russell Adler/Female Bell!Reader Soulmate AU]

As you tapped your foot against the carpeted floor of the conference room to Under Pressure by Queen and David Bowie, you felt your once anxious mind calm down.

For far back as you could remember-which really was just the year 1981-music with your ever trustworthy Walkman had always helped you with...well everything.

It had been one of the reasons you loved that pencil-pushing job in the cubicle at Langley as an intelligence analyst. No unholy amount of paperwork could overcome the clarity you felt at the sound of music blaring through the headset at your ears, drowning out everything else in your world. There was no voices, no ringing in your ears, no screams.

It was all just the consistent sounds of songs you listened to time and time again.

(And as much as you hated to admit it, there was that stubborn bit of hope that refused to die in every song you listened to. Because maybe, just maybe-you had someone out there when you had no one to call your own.)

That stability you found in a world that you knew you had no place in was all thanks to an old acquaintance and now friend. Belikov must have heard from Lazar about the noise complaints from your neighbors. After all, the next time you met him at the scheduled Chicago Cubs’ game, he handed a boxed Sony Walkman WM-5 model with his usual smile under his signature blue Chicago Cubs hat.

As much as you prized your precious Walkman, you couldn’t help but notice how the timing of the mixtapes it played was...uncanny.

Granted, you made the mixtapes yourself. But the MK Ultra program didn’t give you foresight into the future.

You remembered Lazar laughing amusedly at your musings about that. You swore it was true although perhaps that was the paranoia left over the MK Ultra program.

Yet as you sat patiently at the conference table, you couldn’t help but feel a sense of foreboding that punctuated the ringing silence the Walkman had before it moved onto the next song on your mixtape.

SHOT THROUGH THE HEART AND YOU'RE TO BLAME-

As the song you had listened to for years after quite literally getting shot in the heart rang loud and clear in your ears, you registered the doorknob turning across the room.

And suddenly, you just knew.

The song you had listened to for a year while getting as drunk as a fish in bars was coming back to haunt you with a vengeance.

“Oh, for fuck’s sake-” you muttered to yourself, perhaps a bit more loudly than you intended.

Russell Adler walked through that door not a second later.

Even as you swiveled your gaze to the suddenly very fascinating waste basket at the opposite side of the room, you couldn’t help but look at your former...superior out of the corner of your eye.

He was as calm and composed as ever. Signature sunglasses and the ever present cigarette in hand, he looked the same as he did in 1981.

Years ago, you would have admitted that it was frustrating to be ignored that way.

But now, all you could hope for was that he was just here to sit in for the meeting.

If the implanted memories were any indication, Russell Adler always tied up loose ends.

And you were that one loose end that just wouldn’t die.

Quietly sighing to yourself, you soon turned your attention to the briefing that just started. Half of the people you didn’t recognize. But you did notice the familiar figures of Lazar and Belikov sitting in the seats next to Adler.

It must have been some time into the briefing that you felt a forceful nudge at your leg. Turning slightly, you faced your neighbor, recognizing the familiar face.

She was an analyst at the cubicles in Langley as well. Although, she had a fair resume filled with a reasonable amount of fieldwork related to the Eastern Bloc.

“Bell,” she said as you read her lips and the frustrated look in her eyes, “Turn off that damn Walkman.” you assumed she said that in a hiss.

Truth be told, you weren’t exactly popular among the analysts at Langley. You were rather aloof with your quiet lunches in your little cubicle and constant listening to music on your Walkman in the busy hallways.

Suddenly, you saw the analyst’s head turn towards the upper end of the conference table.

And just like before, you simply knew who your “neighbor” was looking at.

“There’s no problem, sir. It’s just her-” You saw the analyst gesture to yourself before she added, “I don’t know if she was paying attention to the briefing.”

There were several times in your line of work that you wish your conversational and social skills were more up to par....and this was one of those times.

You looked at Adler, shrouded in a sparse cloud of smoke with his signature sunglasses on.

“Bell,” was the word you registered all too well.

You felt the gunshot scar on your chest ache in pangs because you heard that word-BellBELLBell-in Vietnam all those years ago-nonono

It wasn’t real. And you had to listen to the advice the shrink gave you.

They were all just surreal dreams.

“Sir?” you quietly inquired, making sure to use the honorific. After all, there never ever was any personal feelings involved in the past and thus formality should be used to distinguish that (and deep down you knew it was for your sake because you had to draw a damn boundary between reality and whatever the hell MK Ultra planted inside you).

For a split second, you could have sworn something crossed his face. Although, you could never tell what he was thinking behind those shades.

“We’ve got a job to do, Bell.” You felt yourself freeze, “What is it?” He was testing you.

Of course.

“Objective is a downed American recon satellite over the Angolan desert. Secure perimeter, destroy sensitive technology, and exfil at 1300. Weapons armament is at our discretion,” you said in clipped statements before adding, “Further details will be assigned to us at a later time.”

Much to the frustration of your “neighbor”, Adler simply nodded approvingly at you in that ever slight way before taking a drag of his cigarette.

Luckily, the briefing was over in around 15 minutes without a hitch.

By the time it was over, your mixtape had already gotten to Tainted Love by Soft Cell and you were already in the middle of jumping out of your chair and making a hopefully subtle dash to the hallway.

From the pain you drive into the heart of me The love we share Seems to go nowhere

Suddenly, you felt a weighted, warm pressure on your shoulder and you instantly twisted around with your hand on the origin of the pressure-

-only for you to blink in consternation at the warm feeling of callused skin against your own.

He’s not wearing gloves, you thought vaguely for a moment as you held Adler’s large callused hand on your shoulder.

Wait-

“Sorry, sir-” you jerked away from him with an apology, “...old habits die hard.”

'What old habits? You had none, not with him.' you kicked yourself mentally.

“You should be more aware of your surroundings.” Ah, yes...The same kind of lecturing you would get in the safehouse when you would listen in on his calls...Granted that somewhat deserved, but it wasn’t like he wasn’t watching over you 24/7 like that time you saw him watching you wander around in the darkroom.

“Yes, sir.” you simply said. It was better to be unnoticed by Adler than it was to piss him off. If you had to be the same devoted obedient subordinate as before, so be it.

There just wouldn’t be any personal feelings involved this time.

(because there were none. It was never personal.)

And I've lost my light For I toss and turn I can't sleep at night

You couldn’t help but feel rather awkward at the silence that lingered in the air.

“If that’s all, I’ll be going now, sir.” you rather sheepishly said before moving to turn to walk away. 

“What are you listening to, kid?” Adler asked suddenly.

“What?”

“The song,” he gestured to the Walkman secured at your waist.

“Tainted Love,” you quickly answered, “Soft Cell.”

You could’ve sworn you saw Adler’s lips twitch up ever so slightly in almost a rather smile....or grimace. You could never quite tell with him.

“It’s a good song, Bell.” was all he said before walking away.

And with that exchange, you were left alone and confused in the hallway.

Once I ran to you (I ran) Now, I'll run from you This tainted love you've given

Author’s Note: 

This is my first time writing out Adler's character as well as even writing out a Call of Duty fanfic. Hopefully, it turned out okay. My writing is still pretty rusty at the moment. 

Anyways, I love writing Soulmate AUs and I found the idea of it to be interesting with a Russell Adler/Bell concept. Aside from my love for Soulmate AUs, I also just had to write out post-canon ending Bell having a Walkman and listening to music all the time with it.

Also, in case anyone is confused, this has a canon-divergence where Bell got non-fatally shot by Adler just before getting pardoned by a high-ranking official for her efforts and then getting a pencil-pushing job as an intelligence analyst at Langley. It's somewhat based on the "happy ending AU idea" post I put on here. It's rather unrealistic but I decided to run with the idea since it ran well with the soulmate AU concept.

Well, thanks for reading!

[fangirl530]

Baloo’s Lost Cargo

This is basically an AU where everything in Ducktales is the same, but all the Talespin characters are there (though they don't all appear here) and they're the same ages they were in the original. Like what they did with Darkwing when he first appeared! 

AO3 link

A couple months ago…

“I wonder why those archaeologists were so cagey about what we’re delivering?” Kit wondered aloud. Baloo shrugged.

“I don’t know, kiddo. All Becky could get out of em’ was that it was some kind of rock.” he snorted. “Imagine, paying for express delivery for a rock.”

“Come on Baloo,” Kit pushed. “It’s gotta be somethin’ more important than that- didn’t you hear who we’re delivering it to?”

“No,” Baloo admitted. “I sorta zoned out while Becky was lecturing me.” Kit rolled his eyes.

“It’s going to Scrooge McDuck, the-”

“The richest duck in the world?!” Baloo yelled, turning to stare at him with wide eyes. “That’s who this rock is goin’ to?!”

“Uh huh.” Kit glanced down at the map, grinning slightly at Baloo’s reaction. “And after that, we’re delivering those farm animals to-”

“Who cares about them, Lil’ Britches!” Baloo laughed, tussling the cub’s hair under his hat. “We’re gonna meet Scrooge McDuck!” Kit laughed with him, reaching up to shove the hat out of his eyes.

“Yeah, it’s gonna be-” the laughter dried up in his throat. “Pirates!”

“It’s gonna be pirates?” Baloo blinked at him. “Is that some new sort of slang?”

“No, Baloo! Pirates!” he pointed out the windshield. “Up ahead!”

“Whoa!” Baloo swerved to avoid the oncoming plane. “Hold on, Lil’ Britches, I’m gonna try to lose them!” as he turned, hooks sunk into the back of the sea duck, the radio crackled to life.

“Hello, Baloo and Kit Cloudkicker!” a voice said. “Prepare to be boarded by-”

“Sorry Don Garbage, I’m afraid it’s not a good time,” Baloo said. He and Kit laughed as the pirate gave a yell of frustration.

“It is Don Karnage! I am here to steal your cargo!”

Baloo smirked. “You mean these chickens?” he asked.

“Don’t forget the goat!” Kit added, snickering. Baloo grinned, glancing back at the animals in question. Their cages had broken open during Baloo’s turn, but the animals themselves were unharmed.

“Yeah- you’re welcome to em’, if you want them that badly!” he said cheerfully.

“No! I am here for the stone!” Karnage yelled.

“No can do, Karny!” Baloo said. “We’ve got a very important buyer who we’re supposed to be deliverin’ it to!” With that, he spun the plane to the left, taking out the planes attached to them and Karnage. As the flipped back right side up, both pilot and navigator laughed- neither noticing the flash of light behind them.

“You sure showed him, Baloo,” Kit said, grinning.

“Of course, no sky pirate’s gonna out fly me,” Baloo said with a smug smile. He glanced back again to check on how their cargo took the spin, and gasped.

“What? What is it?” Kit spun, peeking over the top of his seat. When he saw what Baloo had seen, he gasped too.

Behind them was- was-

“It’s a chicken goat!” Kit yelled.

“It’s hideous is what it is!” Baloo replied. “I don’t remember loading that on the plane!” The creature bleated and charged at him, pecking at him aggressively. Baloo screamed, shoving at it- only for his hands to get pecked violently.

“Get it off, get it off, get it off!” he shouted, scrambling for the Seaduck’s controls. He pulled a lever, opening the cargo door- and both the creature and the stone flew out of the plane.

Panting, Baloo closed the hold and turned the plane around.

“Baloo!” Kit protested. “The stone fell down on that island!”

“As far as I’m concerned, the chicken goat can have it! No delivery is worth bein’ attacked by that thing again!”

“Well, what are you gonna tell Miss Cunningham?” Kit pressed.

“I don’t know, Lil’ Britches- help me figure somethin’ out!” he chuckled. “She’ll never believe us if we told her the truth.”

“Well, you’re right about that,” Kit admitted. “Okay, I’ll help you.” The pair made up a story to tell Rebecca when they got back, and tried to put the horrifying creature out of their minds.

…

As the plane came to a full stop, Della smiled at Dewey in a way which she hoped was encouraging.

“Not bad,” she said. “But maybe less crashing next time?”

“Agreed,” Huey said, stumbling up behind them and leaning against Della’s seat, a daze expression on his face.

“Less crashing,” Dewey agreed. “After all, I can’t be Dew-mazing if I just crash the plane! That’s Launchpad’s thing!”

“Not what I meant, but we’ll discuss that later,” Della said. She glanced at the building and grinned. “Look on the bright side, at least you got us to Higher for Hire! let’s get out of here and talk to the pilot that delivered the stone!” she opened the door and jumped to the dock, then turned and held out her hands for Huey.

“Oh my goodness!” A woman cried, running up to them as she pulled him over. “Are you all okay?!”

“We’re fine,” Della assured her, reaching for Dewey and pulling him onto the dock as well. “Right, kids?”

“Just a few bruises,” Huey confirmed.

“I told ya they were probably fine, Beckers,” a bear said, ambling out of the building. “I’ve had worse crashes than that and walked away without a scratch!” the woman ignored him, smiling at Della instead.

“I’m Rebecca Cunningham, owner of Higher for Hire,” she said cheerfully. “Can we help you?”

“Yeah,” Della said, eyes brightening. “We’re looking for the pilot- we need to ask about a delivery they made a while ago.”

“Was there an issue with the delivery?” Rebecca asked, her smile growing tense. Behind her, the bear winced. Della shook her head.

“No, we just want to know the status of the item that was delivered,” she said. “Where it ended up.”

“Alright,” Rebecca said. She glanced at the bear. “Baloo?”

“Right,” Baloo said, nodding. “I’m the pilot- could ya describe this item to me?” he asked them.

“Better, I can show you,” Huey said. He took out Isabella Finch’s journal, opened it to the stone of what was, and held it out to Baloo. He leaned down and peered at it.

“Yeah- yeah, that looks familiar.” he stood, rubbing his head. “Hold on, let me think… ah! Got it!” he snapped his fingers. “That stone fell out of my plane while my navigator and I were deliverin’ it. Hold on, I’ll go talk to ‘im and find out where it fell. Be back in a bit.”

He walked over to a yellow plane, and Rebecca gestured for them to follow her.

“While he talks to Kit, why don’t you all come inside?” she led them up to the building and went in, chatting with Della the whole way.

Dewey stopped at the window as they went in, a tv catching his eye. He gasped as footage of a young bear came on the screen. He was surfing the clouds on some sort of metal board, a wide grin on his face. ‘

“This can be my thing!” Dewey said, his eyes shining with excitement. He could just imagine it- surfing over the clouds, doing all kinds of awesome stunts, crowds screaming his name…

“Dewey!” Della called, snapping him out of his daydream.

“Coming!” he yelled, hurrying inside.

“The stone was supposed to go to my uncle,” Della was saying to Rebecca. Rebecca’s eyes widened.

“Scrooge McDuck is your uncle?”

“Yep! In fact, he’s the one who sent us to find out what happened to it. It’s…” she glanced down at Huey and Dewey. “Kind of important.”

“Well, I’m so sorry it was lost,” Rebecca apologized. “Baloo doesn’t normally lose cargo- he said they ran into some trouble on the way there, and they weren’t able to retrieve it.”

“Well…” Baloo’s voice said, sounding sheepish. “That’s not exactly true.” they all turned, seeing Baloo and a younger bear standing in the door. Rebecca frowned, but before she could ask what Baloo meant, Dewey let out a loud and dramatic gasp.

“You’re my idol from the video I only just saw a minute ago!” he said, rushing up to Kit and shaking his hand.

“Um, thanks?” Kit said, sounding confused and wary. “But… why am I your idol?”

“I saw that thing you were doing! With the silver board!” Kit’s eyes lit up.

“You mean Cloudkicking!”

“Yeah, that!” Dewey grinned. “I think it could totally be my thing! Teach me EVERYTHING you know!”

“I’d be happy to!” Kit looked up at Baloo. “Is that okay, Baloo?”

“Sure thing, kid,” Baloo said, smiling. “You can show ‘im on the way to the island where the stone ended up.”

“Oh,” Della cut in. “That’s alright, we can fly there on our own! We just need the coordinates.”

“It’s no trouble-” Rebecca started. Baloo cleared his throat.

“I think your plane could use a bit of tuning up,” he said, aiming a thumb at the Cloudslayer, which was sinking below the waves. “Our mechanic will take a look at it while Kit and I fly you out.” Della sighed.

“Fine.”

“Great! Right this way!” Baloo marched out of Higher for Hire, a hand on Kit’s shoulder. “We’ll have ya there in no time!”

On the Seaduck

Dewey poked his head into the cockpit, causing both bears to turn and look at him.

“Soooo… can you teach me cloudkicking now?” He asked Kit, tapping excitedly against the door frame. Kit looked at Baloo questioningly, and he chuckled.

“Sure thing, Kiddo. Can ya get your mom in here for me? If Kit’s gonna be teachin’ you, I’ll need her to navigate our way to the island.”

“Sure!” Dewey disappeared, and moments later, Della appeared in his place. Kit slid out of his seat.

“Here’s the map,” he said, handing her the paper. “The island we’re going to is circled.” he watched as Della sat down, a doubtful look in his eyes. “Are you sure you can handle it?”

“Of course!” Della said dismissively. “I plan my own flights all the time!”

“Okay,” Kit said. “Just call me if you need help!” he left the cockpit, and was immediately met by an extremely excited Dewey.

“So where do we start?” he asked eagerly.

“Well,” Kit began. “The best way to learn is by doing it.” Dewey gasped as Kit pulled out his airfoil and handed it to him. “Let’s see what you can do! Just take this rope-” he gave Dewey the handle he always held on to, and opened the cargo hold with a lever. Gesturing to the opening, he smiled. “You just, jump- once you’re out, try to balance on the board, and keep your knees bent.”

“Got it!” Dewey jumped, immediately being caught by the wind and whisked out as far as the rope would let him.

Kit watched him thoughtfully. His form wasn’t bad- a little stiff, but he’d loosen up as he got more comfortable. That could be worked with easily. The problem was… Dewey was screaming. He did not look like he was having fun, which Kit thought was the whole point.

“Uh, maybe we should practice inside first!” he shouted, hands cupped around his mouth. Dewey didn’t respond, and Huey came to stand next to Kit.

“Did you hear that, Dewey?” he shouted. “You can stop!”

“No way, I love this!” Dewey yelled, a tense smile on his face. “The freedom! The wind in my mouth! The sky pirates!”

“Sky pirates?!” Huey and Kit shouted, eyes widening in alarm. Don Karnage grinned as he flew his plane closer.

“Miss me?” he crowed, swinging his sword at Dewey, who thankfully ducked just in time.

“I wanna stop now!” The duck yelled. Kit cupped his hands over his mouth.

“Dewey, you need to start pulling yourself in! Grab the rope!” Dewey screamed in response, and Kit groaned. “Gah, he’s screaming too loud to hear me! Hold on Dewey, I’m coming!” he turned to Huey. “Once I’m out, pull that lever and draw the rope back in- it’ll take that and us pulling to get in as quick as possible.” after Huey nodded, he jumped onto the rope and slid along it to Dewey.

“Be careful Kit!” Baloo called from the cockpit, his teeth clenched as he held the wheel steady.

Kit waved to show he’d heard him, jumping onto the board. He grabbed Dewey with one hand and the handle with the other. Dewey wrapped his arms around the bear, and Kit grabbed the rope and started pulling.

“Flip the lever, Huey!” he yelled. The other boy nodded, and Kit turned his attention to Dewey. “You can stop screaming now,” he said, a hint of amusement in his voice. Don Karnage flew between them and the plane with an evil laugh, slicing the rope with his sword. Kit’s eyes widened. “Scratch that. You can keep screaming.” They dropped, and as Dewey’s screams increased, Kit winced (Dewey was screaming right into his ear) and angled his airfoil so it caught the wind, bringing them as close to the shore as possible before they hit the water. They both took a deep breath before they were plunged beneath the surface. Dewey’s arms didn’t loosen, thankfully- Kit couldn’t open his eyes to see him if he’d let go.

The waves washed them safely ashore, and they simply laid there for a moment, both breathing deeply. After a moment, Kit stood and held out a hand to Dewey.

“Are you okay?” he asked, pulling him up. Dewey gave him a shaky thumbs up.

“Totally,” he said. His shaking voice said otherwise, but before Kit could comment on it, the Seaduck was landing next to them.

“Dewey!” Della cried, jumping out before the plane had even stopped moving. She ran to them, picking him up and holding him close to her. “Oh, I’m so glad you’re alright!”

“Mom,” Dewey said, sounding embarrassed. Kit laughed quietly, and turned away, not wanting to intrude on their tender moment, and looked at the Seaduck instead. He smiled when he saw Baloo and Huey hurrying over. He took a step toward them, but was stopped by Della. She swept him into a hug and squeezed him tight.

“Thanks for saving Dewey-” he blinked, barely having time to awkwardly pat her shoulder before she was dropping him. “-from the danger you put him in!” she finished, scowling down at him with her hands on her hips.

Kit took a step back, alarmed by the sudden anger, and Dewey came to stand next to him. He glared at his mom, but before he could say anything, Baloo was there.

“Hey now,” he said, putting himself between them and Della. He glared at her, putting a hand on Kit’s shoulder. “Your boy wanted to learn cloudkicking, and Kit taught ‘im. How was he supposed to know the pirates would show up?”

“Yeah!” Dewey said, throwing his arm around Kit’s shoulders. “It’s not Kit’s fault!”

Both parents ignored him, in favor of glowering at each other. Huey shoved his way between them.

“Let’s focus on finding the stone for now,” he said patiently. “Okay?”

“Fine,” Baloo muttered. Della crossed her arms, but nodded.

“Any chance you saw where on the island the stone fell?” she asked Baloo.

“Nope, sorry.” Baloo shook his head. “We were to high up- and we didn’t exactly wait up. We were trying to get out of there as quick as possible.” Della narrowed her eyes at him as Huey knelt on the ground, examining a pair of tracks.

“Why?”

“Hey,” Huey called, before he replied. “Check this out.” Kit knelt next to him.

“Tracks?” he asked.

“Yeah, but they’re weird.” Huey frowned as Della came up behind them. “I wonder what kind of animal made them.”

“Uh…” Della put a hand on his head, turning it to the right. “I think, that kind.” a strange creature came out of the bushes, and they quickly backed up to Dewey and Baloo.

“It’s some sort of… rhinosarilla!” Della said.

“Or a gorillaocerous,” Baloo offered.

“Gorilihno!” Dewey suggested. The creature roared in anger, and Della ran, yelling,

“We’ll decide what it’s called later, RUN!” they all followed her, sprinting through the jungle. The creature stayed hot on their heels, unrelenting in it's chase.

Dewey pulled out Kit’s airfoil, grinning. “Baloo! Launch me at him!” he said, holding it up.

“Er, great idea!” Baloo said. “But I’ve got a better one.”

“So do I!” Della snatched the airfoil out of Dewey’s hand, hurling it at the creature. It bounced off it’s head and knocked it down a hill, where it got its horn stuck in the cliff.

The airfoil flew back, and as Baloo caught it and handed it to him, Dewey crossed his arms.

“I mean… my idea would have worked just as well,” he said, frowning.

“What is that thing?!” Della yelled, gesturing at the creature.

Baloo shuddered. “It’s just like that awful chicken goat,” he said. “Remember, Kit?”

“How could I forget?” the boy replied, shivering.

“The what?” Della asked, turning around to glare at them.

“Oh… did we forget to mention that?” Baloo asked.

“You did,” Della said, gritting her teeth. Baloo shrugged.

“Sorry.”

“But where did it come from?” Huey asked, cutting off any further arguments. He walked through a couple of rocks into the bushes, and they followed (but not before Della shot another glare at Baloo).

The game to the edge of a small cliff, and below them was the stone of what was and Don Karnage. The pirate was ordering a member of his crew to lift the stone. When she did, there was a bright flash of light- and she suddenly had the lower body of an ant.

As she screamed and Don Karnage groaned, Huey flipped through the journal.

“What was once two becomes anew!” he said. “The stone of what was! It must combine two things into one!” the pirates continued trying to grab the stone, but each one who tried was combined with an animal who had happened to be touching it at the same time.

“Alright!” Della said. “What was eight pirates is now four pirate abominations- much easier!” she walked to the edge and started climbing down. “I’m going to get a closer look- stay right here.” she pointed at Baloo. “You, stay further over there.” she pointed behind the kids, and he held his hands up in surrender.

They all watched as Della climbed down, gasping when she started sliding- just barely catching herself before she fell off.

“Oh man, mom’s in trouble!” Huey said worriedly.

“This is my chance!” Dewey said, grinning. “I can take the pirates out with my sick cloudkicking skills, while you-” he pointed at Baloo. “-steal one of their planes and use your piloting skills to make off with the stone!”

“Well, I am an ace pilot,” Baloo said with a smug smile. Kit elbowed him, and he coughed. “But uh, maybe you should let Kit handle the pirates? He has more experience than you do.”

“I can do it,” Dewey insisted. “I’ve dealt with Don Karnage before!”

“I meant- wait.” Baloo held up a hand. “You’ve met Karney before?” Dewey nodded, and Baloo sighed. “Alright, if you’re sure-”

“Hold on,” Huey said, stepping between them and looking at Dewey. “This is a dumb, pointless risk!” he said as Dewey pulled out the airfoil. “I’m begging you not to do this.” Dewey shook his head.

“Already Dew-sending!” he called, leaping off the edge. Baloo, Kit, and Huey cringed as he dropped, smashing onto the ground. Still, it was a distraction. Baloo hurried the kids down to the ground, and over to the planes.

“Get in, quick!” he said, climbing into one. He started the engine, drawing the attention of the pirates. Don Karnage pointed at them.

“Someone stop them!” he shouted. The pirates didn’t listen to him- most of them were too busy panicking. As Baloo pulled the plane out, there was a loud roar.

“Uh… guys?” Kit pointed to where Della was sitting on a bear with butterfly wings. “I think we have another problem.”

“Oh boy,” Baloo said. “I better help her!” he leapt out, calling over his shoulder- “keep the plane running!”

Huey and Kit watched as the bear ran around the clearing, roaring at pirates. It then came face to face with Baloo.

“Don’t worry,” Kit said to Huey. “He’ll help your mom!” Baloo and the bear stared at each other for a moment, and then Baloo screamed and bolted. Kit dropped his head into his hands.

“Nevermind.”

“Wait, look!” Huey pointed, and Kit looked up. The bear was tangled up in the ropes attached to the stone, and it was lifting it into the air. Baloo leapt onto the stone, flying along with them. he climbed up onto the bear with Della.

"well, this is one way to get the stone back!" he said, grinning at her. as they flew up, the remaining pirates hopped into their planes and went after them. Kit jumped out of their plane, quickly followed by Huey.

“Come on!” he yelled as they ran past Dewey. “We need to get back to the Seaduck and follow them!” the three kids ran back through the woods to where the plane was waiting.

After they got in, Kit sat down in Baloo’s chair. “I’ll get the Seaduck up into the air,” he said, turning the plane on. “But someone’s going to need to distract the pirates- I don't think the bear can fight them off."

“I will!” Dewey volunteered. “I can cloudkick out there, and save my mom and Baloo!”

“That’s enough!” Huey yelled, yanking the airfoil out of his hands. “Why don’t you both just do your thing!” Kit turned to look at him, confused, while Dewey scowled.

“This is my thing!" he said, gesturing at the board. “Flying straight and boring isn’t going to save them! Anyone can do that!”

“Wait,” Kit said, drawing both ducks’ attention. “Dewey, you can fly a plane?!”

“Yeah, so?”

“So? That’s great!” he stood. “I’ve been learning, but I’m nowhere near ready to fly on my own. Until I’m old enough to take real lessons, I’m best at being Baloo’s navigator. So you being able to fly well enough to keep a plane this size in the air, and keep it steady? At your age?” he grinned. “That is amazing, and it's exactly what we need right now.”

“Besides,” Huey said, smiling. “If I know you, you’ll make flying as special as you are. No one will be able to fly just like you.”

“Okay,” Dewey said, a smile blooming across his face. He sat in the pilot’s chair.

“Let’s Dewey this.”

With Dewey flying, they quickly and effortlessly caught up to Della and Baloo. As they got closer, they saw that Don Karnage had a harpoon stuck in the stone, and was reeling it in.

Kit opened the hatch and grabbed the rope. Even without the handle, it would work.

“Keep it steady!” he called to Dewey. Dewey gave him a thumbs up, and Kit jumped. He flew over to the cable, using his sudden weight to push against it and dislodge it from the stone.

“Argh!” Don Karnage yelled, dodging the hook as it flew back at him, taking out the cannon in the process. “How dare you, you little rat!”

Kit shot him a smug grin before flying to the other planes. He quickly took out their engines with the crowbar Baloo kept in the Seaduck, forcing them to head for the water before they fell.

“Wow,” Della said, staring at him. Baloo chuckled from his place behind her.

“Isn’t he amazing?” he asked, pride in his voice. He cupped a hand around his mouth.

“You’re doin’ great, Kit! Keep it up!” Kit waved as the Seaduck flew up to them, Dewey in the pilot’s seat.

“Mom! Baloo!” he yelled. “Jump on!”

“Get the stone first!” Della responded. She pulled out a pocket knife to cut the rope, while Baloo did his best to untie the knots. Between the two of them the stone was soon free, and it dropped onto the nose of the Seaduck. They both watched, breaths held, as it rolled to the edge. Thankfully, Dewey was able to steady the plane and keep it in the center.

“Yes!” Huey said, laughing. “I knew you could do it!” Dewey grinned.

“Thanks, Huey,” he said. He moved the plane closer to Della and Baloo so they could jump on.

“Look,” Huey said, pointing to where Kit was fighting with Don Karnage. The bear had just spun the pirate’s plane around, spinning him down into the waves below. They both cheered, and Kit grinned up at them, waving.

“I’ll go reel him in,” Huey said, putting a hand on Dewey’s shoulder before walking to the back. Dewey nodded, then turned to look at Della and Baloo. Della was looking at Dewey through the windshield, beaming.

“I’m so proud of you!” she yelled. She did a cartwheel. “Look how steady it is!” Dewey grinned, but Baloo did not look amused.

“Whoa,” he said. “I’ll admit this is pretty impressive, but maybe save the cartwheels for after we’re safely inside?” Della nodded.

“Fair point,” she said. The bear flew up to them, and Della smiled and scratched it’s fur. After a second, Baloo gave a small smile and did the same. The bear licked both of them, and Baloo gagged as it flew away.

“Gah, it licked my teeth!” Della laughed, wiping the spit off her face. She looked at the bear.

“Be free, my noble friend,” she said, waving at it. Baloo rolled his eyes, ushering her inside. Once they were in, he went to the back where Huey was pulling in Kit. After he was in, he drew the boy into a hug.

“Great job, Lil’ Britches,” he said, grinning.

“Thanks Papa Bear,” Kit said, smiling back. He fist bumped Huey, and the three of them walked up to the cockpit.

“You’re doin’ great, kid,” Baloo said to Dewey, walking up behind him. “But I can take over now.”

“Aw, let him fly us home Baloo,” Kit said. “He’s a natural- he can handle it.” Baloo looked down at him.

“Alright,” he conceded. “If you trust him, then so do I.” he looked at Dewey. “Just be careful with my baby, okay?”

“He will be,” Della promised. She elbowed him. “I let him fly my baby, and- well…” she coughed. “He crashed it into the ocean. But he’s not gonna try to do any stunts this time!”

Baloo laughed. “She’s been through worse than that- Just so long as we get home in one piece.” he looked at Dewey thoughtfully. “One more thing, though.”

“Yeah?” Dewey asked, keeping his eyes on the sky.

“Do you know how to get back to Higher For Hire?”

“Uh... no,” Dewey admitted sheepishly. “I guess that’s a problem, huh?”

“Nah,” Baloo said dismissively. “That’s why I have a navigator! Kit?”

“On it, Papa Bear,” Kit said, hopping into the navigator’s seat. he smiled at Dewey.

"Are you ready to... Dewey this?" he asked. Dewey smirked.

"I am so ready."

Once they were back home, Baloo lifted the stone off the Seaduck’s nose and into the spare crate that Rebecca had waiting for him.

“There,” he said, putting the lid over it. “You’re good to go!”

“Thank you,” Della said, smiling as Huey, Dewey, and Kit pushed it into the Cloudslayer. “We really appreciate the help.”

“No problem,” Baloo replied. “It was the least we could do- considering we lost the cargo in the first place.” Della shrugged.

“Eh, it happens. Uncle Scrooge’ll understand when we tell him what happened.” Baloo blinked.

“Uncle…?" he asked, before his eyes widened in realization. "Scrooge McDuck is your uncle?!” Della snorted.

“Yeah, who did you think sent us? Speaking of which-” she reached into her pocket. “He said that if you could get us stone, I should give you this.” she gave him some money. “It’s what he owed you for the cargo when you were originally delivering it.”

“Whoa, thank you!” Baloo grinned. “Becky will be happy- she was mad when we came back without this before.” after tucking it into his shirt pocket, he held out a hand. “It was nice to meet you,” he said.

“Likewise.” Della grinned, shaking it. “Maybe we’ll see you around?”

“Maybe,” Baloo agreed. He smirked. “If ya ever need anything else delivered.” they laughed together as the kids came up to them.

“The stone is loaded, Mom,” Huey said.

“Okay, then we should probably be getting back to Duckburg.” she and the boys climbed in the plane, waving one last time before shutting the door.

“Dewey gave me his address,” Kit said as they flew off. “So I can write him and see how his flying is going.” Baloo put an arm around him.

“That's great, Lil' Britches." he hummed thoughtfully. "You know, if you wanted, I could start taking you out on the weekends to fly.” Kit gasped.

“Really, Papa Bear?” he asked, looking up at Baloo with wide eyes. Baloo grinned.

“Really. I have a feeling both of you could be ace pilots someday.”

[once-upon-a-pirate-ship]

How Restlessly the Stars Do Gleam 3/?

Chapter 3: Moments Long Remembered

read it on AO3 here | from the beginning

chapter 1 | chapter 2

story summary: Princess Emma isn't the princess of much anymore. It's been months since her parents and brother were taken, and she's been on the run with her godmother Red. When Emma and Red board a merchant vessel to sail to Arendelle, Emma quickly finds that the captain is not to be trusted. After helping two slave brothers, Emma takes over the ship and begins her journey to save and rebuild her kingdom.

what's in store for chapter three? New characters (not new new, but new to this particular world)! Some background! Pining & tension!

thank you all for reading and staying with me even when I am too busy (just for this one week and a half time period) to post on schedule

Moments Long Remembered

On the worst day of her life, Princess Emma rode out far beyond the castle walls. She was alone, as she preferred solitary rides on her trusted horse, and the cold air was nothing to her as she raced through the snow covered forest. For a few hours each day, she got to feel entirely free. All responsibilities could wait, every forced smile was just a distant memory. She had no one to try to impress, no one who expected anything from her, no one who needed her to be someone she was not.

It wasn’t the excursion, nor the weather, nor the steed that made this day so horrible. Rather, it was the enemy who had breached the castle walls in her absence.

The most poignant part of this particular memory, for her, were the moments directly before she was made aware of the events inside the castle. She was at ease, content, blissfully happy and oblivious to the screams that tore through the halls she called home. She wasn’t worrying about her parents when they were stolen and taken far out of her reach. She didn’t consider her brother, her little lion cub, as he was yanked from the joy he knew and shown the truths of the world she’d wished he’d never have to learn.

Her happiness was shattered when the Evil Queen appeared before her, the black gown cutting across the crisp white snow in her path. Terror as she’d never known it dropped into her stomach as her hands gripped the reins and her horse skidded to a stop, and the fear that sliced down her spine was colder than the shards of ice that hung from each tree branch.

The Evil Queen’s mouth was curled into a wicked smile, white teeth framed by the wine color of her lips as she moved them to speak.

“Emma.”

But it was not the Evil Queen who stood in front of her now and called her name. It was her most trusted friend, her ally, her godmother, Red. The memory, as vivid as if it had only just happened, dissolved into nothing, sizzling in the early summer air as Emma blinked it away.

“Yes?”

“Liam and I are leaving,” Red told her, “I doubt we’ll be gone more than a few hours.”

Emma could’ve counted on one hand the number of times that she’d been separated from Red in the last months, and no matter how irrational it was, she couldn’t stop her muscles from tensing as if bracing for pain. But they needed some new crew, and Red was more than capable of the job.

“Good, good,” Emma said absently. She wished she had something more intelligent to say, but her mind was still fixated on moments long gone. “I’ll be here,” she added.

“Yes,” Red grinned, “you and Killian.” She didn’t give Emma time to inquire after the tone she’d used before Red turned and called, “Liam!”

Liam stood across the deck in conference with John Terry, but at the call of his name, he excused himself from his fellow sailor and joined Red and Emma where they waited by the gangplank.

“We shall return shortly,” Liam promised his captain. “I hope Killian won��t give you too much trouble,” he added in good humor.

“We’ll be just fine,” Emma told him. The trouble Killian Jones gave her was of a different nature, and she wasn’t about to disclose those particulars to his older brother.

Emma watched Liam and Red until they disappeared into the crowd past the docks, forcing her thoughts from straying to the fear that was an ever-present buzz in her blood. Instead, she planted herself on the steps leading up to the quarterdeck, her mind occupying itself with whatever it could latch onto.

As if her thoughts had summoned him, Killian appeared from below, offering Terry a few words as he passed on his way towards her.

“Swan!” he called, and her eyes immediately met his. He’d called her that three times that morning, and it hadn’t seemed unusual once. But perhaps that had less to do with the moniker and more to do with who had said it.

Killian dropped onto a step below hers, a gentle and genuine smile spreading across his lips. “Terry’s gathering his group and then they’ll be off,” he told her. “I double checked the list with the storeroom, and it seems that everything’s in order.”

“Perfect,” she replied, willing a coherent sentence to present itself as she looked away from his striking eyes.

“Tell me, Swan,” he began, his voice low, “do you always dress in a layer of knives, or do you save that for special occasions?”

She laughed, and it made her realize how long it had been since that had happened. Her head thrown back like that, the bounding joy in her chest—weeks, at least. Probably months, probably before that morning ride that featured the Evil Queen.

Emma leaned back a little, her hand going to the edge of the vest to pull out a blade and pass it to him. “Eight in total, four on each side,” she explained. “And yes, I’ve fixed every garment I have with some sort of weapons holder.”

Killian’s eyebrows shot up, glancing up at her from the knife he had been examining. “Isn’t that dangerous? How have you not injured yourself?”

“Not any more dangerous than being unarmed and running into some Black Knights,” she said with a shrug, glancing away to avoid his concerned gaze. “But each blade has a metal casing. That’s what keeps it from hurting me or tearing the fabric, and it snaps into place to stop it from falling out.”

His dark brows furrowed, his eyes flitting from the knife to where she’d pulled it from. “The casing, is it tricky?” he wondered. “Does it get stuck?”

“Only when I forget to clean them,” she replied. Without pausing to consider what she was doing, she reached for his free hand. “Here, try it,” she said, guiding his fingers to the spot on the other side of her vest.

Killian moved slowly, hesitantly, but he allowed her to line his fingertips against the hidden pocket. His eyes locked with hers, and that familiar tug and snapping of electricity surged between them.

“Just, um, push up a little until you feel a click, and then it’ll slide out,” she explained, slightly breathless despite the fact that she’d been sitting for several minutes.

His gaze didn’t stray from hers as he followed her directions, the thin handle of the blade dropping into his hand. She could feel his body heat like this, his hand against her waist, and it seemed like he was both too close and not close enough.

“Captain?”

Emma and Killian broke apart at the sound of Terry’s voice. She stood, brushing back some of the hair that had fallen out of place. “Yes?” she asked, glancing quickly at Killian who had returned to an upright position and was currently examining the two blades closely. The tips of his ears were red.

Terry smiled, and Emma pretended not to notice anything but politeness in it. “With your leave, Captain, we’re off.”

“Yes, yes, of course,” she replied, looking between him and the several crew members gathered a few feet behind. “I look forward to receiving your report upon your return.” It was best that she maintained the pretense of captain with the crew, according to Red. Something about safety or respect or concealing her identity from newcomers. She could hardly remember now.

Emma waited until they were out of sight before returning to her previous position, and Killian had recovered enough that the blush had even faded from his cheeks when he looked at her. He passed her the knives without a word.

He cleared his throat, forcing his eyes back to hers rather than where her fingers secured the blades. “You mentioned Black Knights,” he said, “have you fought many of them?”

It wasn’t that surprising of a question, honestly, given that she’d mentioned them off-handedly before. She just couldn’t figure out why she had mentioned it in the first place. Perhaps it was the same reason she showed him how her vest worked.

“Can you define ‘many’?” she asked, her voice calm and soft and not at all befitting the subject.

Killian’s eyes widened, his jaw tightening to restrain some emotion she couldn’t place. “It’s been…months,” he murmured. “You’ve been fighting them all this time?”

“Fighting them, running from them, gathering information from them,” Emma answered. “Until I figured out that she was tracking me with magic, at least.”

“What did you do?”

“Red got her hands on some potion,” she said, trying for a smile that ended up a little sad. “So that’s why we’re here now. And that’s why there’s not a single Black Knight searching this port.”

Killian was quiet for a moment, and it wasn’t until his jaw released its tension that he spoke. “What information?”

“At first, we tried to get them to tell us where my family was, but they’re not particularly talkative,” she explained, hoping she sounded more unaffected than she felt. “Eventually, we started following them, finding their camps. We spent weeks combing the forest, tracking their movements, and making maps of their locations.”

“Did you find them?”

The ghost of a smile on her lips was revealing. “We discovered where she’s holding my father. It’s remote, not to mention protected by battalions of Black Knights. Red and I are good, but we’re not that good.”

“That’s where Arendelle comes in,” he concluded. “You’re hoping they’ll help you to free him with magic.”

She sighed, her eyes trailing away from him and fixing themselves on the gangplank. “That’s our hope,” she said. “If I can get to my father, he’ll be able to find my mother. And I have no doubt they’ll make quick work of locating Leo.”

“You and your brother,” Killian continued after a moment, “are you close?”

The question was enough to bring happier, lighter memories to the forefront of her mind. “Very,” Emma replied. “He’s like light personified. Always overly enthusiastic, always making me laugh. But he’s driven, too. Spends all day in the practice yard unless I convince him to do something else.”

“He’s probably just trying to keep up with his sister,” Killian said, the beginnings of a smile on his lips.

“Maybe,” she allowed. But thinking about her brother fighting made her think about her brother losing, and then the guilt that had lived in her chest since that day slammed against her heart. “I wish I’d been there to protect him when he really needed me,” she confessed, and the words were almost shocking for her to hear. She’d thought about it again and again, but never had she voiced it, as if keeping it to herself made it less real.

“What happened, exactly?” Killian asked. “If you don’t mind sharing,” he added quickly.

“I used to go for a ride every morning,” she began, “and that morning was no different. Until the Evil Queen showed up and outlined her perfect plan to destroy my family one curse at a time.”

“She cursed all of you?”

“No,” Emma replied, a bitter laugh on her lips, “not me. Because the knowledge that my family is slowly dying while I am powerless to stop it…that’s a curse in its own right.”

“Swan,” Killian breathed, and the emotion in his voice was overwhelming. “I don’t pretend to know the specifics of the Evil Queen’s magic, but you must know that it wasn’t your fault. If your parents, your brother, your numerous castle guards couldn’t stop her, why do you think you’re to blame?”

He paused, shaking his head as he gathered his thoughts. “I have no doubt that you will defeat her, love, but it’s not only your combat skills that are going to take her down.”

Killian believed in her. She’d known it since the very beginning, but her doubt had been strong enough to convince her it was a misled belief. But now, with his head bent in reverence and his startling eyes that wouldn’t waver from hers, she had no choice but to accept his words as truth.

The guilt and the doubt didn’t evaporate into nothing, but their power over her waned.

Emma nodded—acknowledgement, gratitude, something else, she wasn’t sure—and they ventured into safer, less dramatic topics that allowed for a lighter atmosphere to settle over them.

Watching the ship, as it turned out, was not the most interesting job. There was very little for them to do except wait for the others to return, though Emma was relieved for something unexciting for a change. She needed the respite much more than she’d realized, and though the absence of constant panic was almost jarring enough to cause panic itself, she convinced herself that she was secure for the afternoon.

The first interruption to her temporary peace came when a figure appeared on the dock a few steps from the gangplank. Killian and Emma stood, their hands reaching for their swords in a synchronized motion that made the stranger chuckle softly.

“Exactly as Red described,” the woman said, pushing her hood back to reveal a heart-shaped face and blonde hair that was piled atop her head. “Permission to come aboard, Captain?” she asked, looking expectantly at Emma.

Emma relaxed at the mention of her godmother, but she did not alter her posture to show it. She nodded sharply, and Killian stepped forward to put himself between her and the stranger. The action wasn’t shocking or offensive to Emma’s pride; instead, it asserted the rank she held and the loyalty of those who followed her.

The woman was petite, but she moved with the surety of someone who had seen hardship and battle. “They call me Tink,” she informed them once she’d boarded. “I was told I could find you here.”

It took everything in Emma’s power not to revert to her diplomatic training. She could not smile politely, could not offer refreshments or entertainment. Here, she had to appear coarse and immoveable like the captain she was supposed to be, at least until they knew Tink could be trusted.

Killian, following her lead as always, did not falter to play his part. “What is your business here?”

“Friends of yours—Red and Liam—told me you’re looking for a few additions to your crew. I’d like to offer my services,” Tink said, unshaken by their front.

“Why?” Emma asked, and her gut pinched at the rude tone in her voice.

A smile spread across Tink’s face as she paused before speaking. “Well, they’d hardly tell me, would they?” She laughed at her own joke, and then continued, “But they seemed significantly more interested once they learned about my dislike for the Evil Queen, so I suspect that’s got something to do with it.”

“You have a personal vendetta?” Killian asked, though it didn’t quite seem like that much of a question.

Tink’s arms folded across her chest, the smile disappearing from her lips. “I’m an ex-fairy,” she replied, “and let’s just say that before I met Regina, I was not an ex-fairy.”

“And now you’re looking for revenge,” Killian offered.

“Justice,” Tink corrected. “But yes, I’d like to help in the fight against her.”

Emma glanced at Killian just as he was turning back to her, and their eyes locked for a moment. Had Red and Liam been there to witness the silent conversation that passed, there would have been a hushed discussion between them later. Without them there, the only acknowledgement of the event was Tink who smiled to herself.

“Joining this crew would guarantee a death at her hand if we’re caught,” Emma warned, her demeanor nearly returning to normal with Tink’s objective revealed.

Tink cocked her head slightly, her wide eyes studying Emma with a level of perception neither she nor Killian could comprehend. “You’re not just a captain, are you?”

“No.”

“You’re someone special,” Tink added, “I may not be a fairy anymore, but I can still feel it. Who are you?”

At this question, Killian tensed, his eyes scanning their surroundings. Once he’d determined that there was no one close enough to become a threat, he looked back at Emma, another silent inquiry.

Emma moved, a hand on his shoulder to calm him as she passed, and when she stood directly in front of Tink, she almost felt like the princess she hadn’t been in months.

“My name is Emma, and I am the daughter of Snow White and Prince Charming.”

The shock on Tink’s face was less than Emma had anticipated, but the grin that replaced it eased her worries. “I knew you weren’t just running,” she said, “and I would be honored to join you in saving your kingdom and your family. Beating Regina is simply a bonus.”

Emma offered her hand to shake, and Tink accepted both the gesture and the wordless accord that came with it. “Welcome aboard,” Emma said.

--

Emma returned above deck from checking the storeroom with Terry, finding Killian speaking with Tink and the other sailor who had been sent by Red and Liam before the suppliers had made their way back.

August Booth was a man who could be charming when he wished to be, but the scowl that had overtaken his expression upon the mention of the Evil Queen left Emma with no doubt of his loyalty. He asked fewer questions than Tink, but his curious eyes were revealing to anyone who cared to look.

To any passing observer, Killian looked relaxed as he stood before the two crew members. His shoulders were back, his left hand resting casually against the hilt of his sword. But Emma could tell by the angle of his neck that he was watching the pier for unexpected visitors, and the set of his feet prepared him for a fight.

“It’s definitely a step up from the last ship I sailed on,” Tink said, her nose wrinkling at a distasteful memory.

“I’m afraid my sailing experience is limited to what I’ve learned in the last few months,” August said with a glance towards Killian, “but I’ve been told that I’m a fast learner, so I hope the captain won’t throw me off at the next port.”

Killian chuckled, “So long as you follow orders, you’ll be fine.”

Emma was pleased to find that Killian had warmed somewhat to August, as he’d been uncharacteristically sharp upon meeting him. While Emma had eased into the topic of the Evil Queen, Killian had been skeptical and quick to determine August’s exact beliefs regarding Emma’s family. August’s father had been murdered when Regina had torn apart the village outside the castle, and though Emma read his grief and anger as nothing threatening to her, Killian had bluntly asked if August found the former king and queen at fault in the tragedy.

Now she leaned casually against the mainmast, neither announcing herself nor bothering to hide to effectively eavesdrop as she watched the group while they talked.

“I’ve heard that the princess is quite the fighter,” August added, studying Killian carefully as he spoke.

It was not the sun that brought red to Killian’s cheeks and to the tips of his ears. “Aye, I have yet to see her equal,” he admitted, making no attempt to mask the pride in his voice.

“Do you suppose she’d agree to a demonstration later?” Tink wondered.

“We could prove our worth with a sword,” August offered, grinning at the prospect.

“You’d have to ask her yourself,” Killian replied. “I’d be happy to spar with you both if you’d like. I don’t pretend to be as skilled as the princess, but I can manage well enough.”

Before Emma could interrupt to agree to the demonstration, a creak of the wood and a flash of movement from the corner of her eye brought her attention away from them. Her defensive instincts sputtered when she recognized Red and Liam, though the third person to step onto the gangplank was a stranger to her.

Killian reacted as she’d expected him to, turning away from Tink and August to meet his brother. They exchanged a nod that held unspoken words, and when Killian stood before the potential crew member, his body language conveyed his reserve. Tink and August fell back, acknowledging Red and Liam without moving towards the man.

“This is Will Scarlet,” Red announced, not meeting Emma’s gaze though she was aware of her presence.

Will Scarlet had no scabbard to hold his sword, but rather a knife that was secured in a leather casing along his belt. His lips were pressed into a tight line, his gaze traveling from each person until it settled on Emma, and she had a feeling that he knew more than he should’ve with a single glance. It was the kind of thing that one learned when forced to, the ability to read a person’s intentions by their movements and everything they did not say.

“I suppose you’re the captain,” he said, causing every eye to shoot towards her. His tone was casual, unaffected, but there was a gravity in his posture that revealed something much more intense.

Emma nodded slowly, but she didn’t move from her position as she leaned against the mast. Her gaze drifted from Will to Killian in a flicker, but she focused back on the stranger before a second had passed.

“I hope our choices have been acceptable thus far, Captain,” Liam said, more a question than a statement. The tone was unfitting of the camaraderie they’d achieved, maintaining the pretense of rank in front of Will.

“Indeed,” Emma replied. She paused, testing the bounds of their attentiveness and therefore respect. No one moved, no one breathed, all waiting for her to speak as they knew she would. There were many differences between acting as a captain and acting as a princess, but commanding the attention of a room, or a deck, was a similarity.

“I was about to consent to a sparring exercise—a demonstration, if you will—for our new recruits when you arrived,” she continued. When her eyes landed on Will, she made a show of studying him. “I assume that you carry no sword because you have no need of one,” she added.

The corners of his lips twitched, his hand patting the leather case that held his knife. “They’re a waste of metal, if you ask me,” he told her, “I prefer to keep things simple.”

She hummed, gauging his expression to determine if he boasted a skill level that he did not possess. “And you believe that you deserve a place on this ship?” she asked, pushing his temper, his pride, to see if she could find a weak spot.

“What I do or do not deserve isn’t important, is it?” he replied, a grumbling sound that came from his throat that revealed either a mild irritation or anger directed towards a third party. “The way I see it, it’s what the Evil Queen deserves that really matters,” he nearly spat, though there was no lack of control in his voice.

Emma, though she couldn’t admit it without first determining Will’s loyalty, was impressed. His eyes burned with a familiar enduring rage that she had seen each time she’d looked in the mirror.

“I’m guessing you’re aware of the risks you’d be taking should you join us?” Emma asked, measuring each shift in his expression for anything alarming.

“I’d hardly be here if I couldn’t face the consequences,” Will said. “And you’re not the first crusade against the Evil Queen that I’ve joined, although Red seems to think you’d give me a better chance than that lot ever did.”

“We beat her or we die trying,” Emma told him as she pushed herself off the mast and moved a few steps towards him, all the ferocity she’d been attempting to hide away behind the sadness and the guilt leaking out in her voice. “Are you ready for that?”

Will grinned, his eyes darkening. “You can count on it, Captain.”

Emma didn’t wait more than a moment before she turned to face the others. “Red, fill him in. Liam, make sure Terry’s ready to set sail and get us going. I want us in the wind before sunset, and we’ve got a prisoner to hand over before we can leave,” she ordered, though her tone had dropped the unforgiving command as she surrendered her facade. “Killian, show our newest allies to their quarters once Scarlet has been briefed, and then I’d like you and your brother to join me in escorting Silver off this ship.”

No one hesitated to obey the second she finished speaking, and though Killian lingered to hold her gaze for a long moment, he said nothing. Emma could not regret this, because there was no lack of communication in his sparkling eyes.

--

Violence had always been a part of her life. It was a byproduct of her existence, a necessity, a simple truth. But before her last ride from the castle, she had never considered herself a violent person. True violence was always accompanied with a driving force beyond rationality, perhaps a hatred, a passionate fury, or bloodlust. Those particular feelings did not promote impartiality or decorum, and they had certainly never been a part of her training. But as Emma walked behind the Jones brothers, watching Silver stumble and fight against his restraints and the firm hands of Killian and Liam, she felt at least two of those three feelings.

He hadn’t come quietly, neither physically nor verbally passive, and the bit of cloth preventing him from speaking had been a necessary addition. He had swung at her and at the brothers, he had tried to kick and scratch at them before the rope had limited his movements, but none of that had affected her the way his words had.

It was not his insults towards her that had stirred the violent feelings she felt now, but rather it was his cutting remarks aimed at Liam and Killian that had led to the swelling cheek he now brandished.

She had known cruelty—hell, she had looked it in the eye and watched its wine-colored lips smile at her—but she had never known it quite like this. Because Silver held no power. He would hang, he would die, he would never be seen by any of them again, and yet he still attempted to slice at the brothers and prod every wound he believed they had. He was a desperate man, she knew. He was a coward. He was a fool.

Silver was defenseless, hopeless, powerless, and yet Emma still wished to draw her sword and cut him the way he’d tried to cut the Jones brothers.

Her hand curled around the hilt of her sword, her grip so tight that it nearly hurt her to hold it. She focused on her steps rather than the anger that swirled in her chest, the hatred that shuddered in her stomach and traveled up to her shoulders and made them tremble as she restrained herself.

Liam spoke quickly and efficiently with the jailor when they arrived, and Emma kept herself three paces behind them to prevent her violence from pushing her to interfere. There were a few formalities that took some time to sort out, some documents to sign verifying witnesses, and the only thing that held Emma back was the look on Killian’s face.

It didn’t lack the anger she felt, but his was the expression of a man resolved. He accepted Silver’s fate and wished for nothing more. His fists did not clench in preparation of beating him, his lips did not part to issue his sentence or even a parting taunt that bragged of flipped roles or lost and gained freedom. If Killian could watch the man who had carved lines into his back with near equanimity, what right did she have to act on her desires?

She signed her name Emma Swan, gave Silver one last pointed glare, and then she led the brothers back towards their ship, eager to put as much distance as possible between them and this port.

[wildshub]

WHO: Alexa Levy, Erin Walsh, Izzy Connelly, and Joss King WHAT: Alexa and Izzy go into the jungle in search of Erin and Joss. WHEN: Day 16 NOTE: For future reference.

Alexa she wasn't sure how long they'd been walking or where exactly they'd ended up, but it felt like they'd been gone for hours and like it would take hours to come back. she was starting to lose hope in finding them, at least today. "i think, maybe we should just...try again tomorrow? like, will we even make it back before dark? shane was very very specific about being back before dark like, that was sort of...sort of like a point a. like, rule numero uno...ya know?" she was breathing fast, herstep uneven and jumpy over the messy ground half of which could not be seen. she could have easily stepped on a snake at any point. or a gator, or a tropical bear cub. "erin! joss!" she screams for the hundredth time, until something grabs her attention. "d-did you hear that?"

Izzy izzy glanced anxiously over at lex. yes, it was getting dark; izzy was pretty sure they'd been walking for four hours, maybe a little more. it wasn't dark now, but it would almost definitely be pitch black by the time they got back to class. but - okay, yeah, shane said to be back by dark. but. izzy wasn't sure she could stomach the idea of walking back into camp without jocelyn and erin - without at least being able to affirm that they were okay, if nothing else. "uh - uh, yeah. but... like, maybe we can just look for like, thirty more minutes? i mean, just go a little further? if that's okay by you?" she offered nervously, mouth twisting into a frown as she looked around. yes, she was tired - so fucking tired, and they'd been traveling uphill, and her lungs were beginning to ache just a little. but she wasn't ready to go back yet. that's what she was thinking as she joined in calling after erin and jocelyn - until she heard the noise, some kind of whooshing, a snapping, something kind of ominous, too loud to be the girls they were looking for. not human enough. she glanced over at lex with bright, frightened eyes, trying to remain calm, because, look, maybe it was nothing. "um... yeah. maybe we should just... hang back for a second."

Alexa she nods at izzy, agreeing to thirty more minutes out here which would ultimately not take away that much of their time. "god, as much as i hope to find them i hope they're not really out here. it's scary as fuck...can't imagine it dark..." she shivers, feeling like a total pussy but at the same time like they were close. really close. as the fear of the unknown is added a sound and that sound grows louder and izzy's voice quieter, she can hear only the beating of her own heart growing stronger in her ears. fuck, they were about to die. they were about to get eaten by lions or pumas or whatever the fuck the tropical version of them shits was. "i'm not ready to die..." she whispers, panic rising in her voice with every word. "i did not survive deep diving to be eaten by fucking lions, na-ah, too young, too pretty, look at me izzy i'm at my prime like, i'm not..." she does shut her mouth as the branches snap even closer and when she feels something touch her leg, whatever it was, a branch, dash of wind, whatever, she bolts ahead. "run, izzy, run!" without even looking back, she can hear something marching after her, something heavy and she screams as loud as her lungs will allow. "fuuuck!" not the pig, not the fucking pig. she had never ran so fast in her whole life, shed felt like she was flying. screams came one after the other and she hoped izzy had stayed back safe, behind the ugly beast. then when she thinks she can no longer hear it, she looks over her shoulder just a bit and the next thing she knows is the floor and pain rushing through her. this scream was different, deeper. it was all so sudden that she did not know where the beast had gone, if izzy was here, if she was imagining the voice of erin and joss coming through. all she could feel was her ankle, totally fucked. and tears coming through.

Izzy izzy shrugged helpfully. "they're somewhere out here; we know that. let's just hope they're somewhere safe, and, like... not too far away," she offered, taking a protective step closer to the other girl when she heard the fear in her voice. "hey," she said softly, "we'll be okay," she promised, but she didn't know that for a fact, and she was pretty sure her voice had come out a little thin, and afraid, and unconvincing. as the noise gets louder, though, and as lex keeps talking, izzy's eyes grow wide and her face grows pale, heart thrumming in her chest, which is constricting painfully now, breath catching with anxiety as she backs up a little, praying thoughtlessly, just a wordless begging in her mind as the noise grows closer, and closer. she puts one finger to her lips - if lex wants to stay in her prime, she needs to be quiet - and then, OH, SHIT, oh shit, oh, fuck - the fucking pig, the fucking pig, why didn't they bring a weapon? she watches in horror, glued to her spot like the ineffectual coward she knows she is as the pig chases after lex, and she sees white, and feels that sick sensation of fear, no, no, no, please no, and she's yelling without even hearing herself until the pig - that fucking pig, jesus christ - darts off to the left, and there's that one second of relief, that beautiful, cool relief, and izzy lets out a tearless sob for just a moment before she hears lex scream, that sick, guttural scream, and then izzy is running for her. "lex!" she calls out, breathless, running as fast as she could ever manage, and she basically trips onto her knees beside the other, dirt against flesh, vision swimming with tears, "are you okay? oh my god, what happened, are you okay?"

Erin It feels like her heart has jumped up her throat and was sitting directly between her ears. Chest rising and falling quickly with her rapid breathing as she tried her best to stay as quiet as a mouse in their hiding place. She's not sure when she grabbed Joss' hand, or if it was Joss that grabbed her's, but she doesn't let go. They'd heard the voices calling out their names for the better part of the afternoon, trying to stay ahead of them– until they'd finally had to hide because they couldn't outrun a boar as well. Then it's just listening. Listening desperately. Had they managed to get away? That thought, and any thought of getting away disappeared when she heard Lex's scream. Not because it was closer but because it was Lex and it sounded like she was hurt, badly. And no matter how hard Erin had tried to convince herself over the last two days that she didn't care about the Eves because none of them cared about her, it was all a big fat lie. She cared a lot, like a stupid amount all things considered. She looked to Joss, but her decision was already made by the time their eyes locked. She let go of her hand and moved towards the scream. She moved quickly, and soon enough her eyes landed on Lex and Izzy. Both on the ground, if they weren't crying already they looked like they were about to. Without even thinking she hurried towards them, " What happened? " She asked worriedly as she approached, hands holding onto trees as she passed them so she wouldn't lose her balance herself. " What happened? Are you guys okay? " She asked again, trying to take in what she was seeing but she really wasn't really sure what that was.

Joss Joss tried to focus on anything but her racing heart or the anxiety that filled the pit of her stomach like bile rising into her throat. The warmth of Erin's hand in hers, the fabric that covered the back of Erin's shoulders, how would she describe the colour if she had to, how many stitches could she see in the seems. Anything but the thought that at any given moment they might be dragged back to camp to face the consequences of their departure and worse, face the boys that had inspired it. Then, suddenly, Erin had broken away from Joss and without thinking about it, the blonde followed suit, her legs carrying her so quickly that her mind had no time to protest. Overwhelmed by the circumstances; the sudden appearance of Izzy and Lex, the sound of screams and what must have been the boar that had plowed through the Adams days before, she stood still, in silence, allowing Erin to take the lead.

Alexa She might’ve screamed more than she had to and realised it too late so she thought it best to keep up the act. She was still in pain, it just wasn’t AS bad as her scream would have implied. That was, of course, until she saw the blood. On her foot, her hands, everywhere. Was it the adrenaline? Was she actually dying? She screamed some more, she felt dizzy. “I’m gonna die. Im gonna die oh my God…” she felt the panic coming on, and even the relief of Erin and Joss did not much soften that blow. She looked at each of the girls, like a cry for help, like they were supposed to just know what to do. Fear had ran through her and her whole body shook like a willow tree during cold winter winds. “Im okay I’m okay I’m okay, it was t-the pig the pig it ran and it…I tried to and then it, and then I f-fell and I swear there was…there…it went that way, what if it comes back? What if?” Suddenly she felt something else, like anger of sorts. They wouldn’t have been here, they would not have even gone out of the two had not just abandoned them. “W-where the hell, where have you been!? We were all, we were worried SICK! A-and we…” she tried to get up and leaning onto the tree but the sharp pain rushed through her foot again and she fell back on the ground with a deep moan. She was exhausted, she was absolutely fucking exhausted. Of the walking and diving and this whole fucking island. None of this was real, it cannot be real. “I’m happy to see you.” She closes her eyes, laying down on the floor as she focuses on breathing. “W-we came for you…I’m so happy you’re okay…”

Izzy fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck. amelia had called it their mom's 'final girl face.' ( she gets all dead behind the eyes and her lips get all thin, iz. ) was that how izzy looked now? "you are not," she said sternly, stripping down to her bra and spreading the shirt out between her hands, wrapping lex's leg gently, almost mechanically, without a single thought in her head for those few seconds. "you're okay, you're okay," she cooed softly, paying a great deal of attention to make sure she compressed it right. shit, shit, shit. "do you think it's broken?" she asked lex, voice even and calm. "or maybe just sprained, or just bruised?" she continued, one hand comfortingly on lex's shoulder, heart beating wildly in her chest despite her demeanor, which was as close to put together as anyone could manage at a time like this. it took lex yelling at them for izzy to really register that erin and joss were there; she'd been so focused for a moment that the rest of the world had bled out. "hey," she said to lex, soft but stern, "stop talking." she hoped that her tone would imply that talking was bad for lex's hurt leg or something, but really, she just didn't want lex chewing them out. her eyes flared in alarm when lex tried to get up, and izzy did what she could to support the other when her ankle seemed to buckle under her, but she wans't nearly strong enough, so it was more like she was a soft place to land. "hey, don't," she instructed. shit, shit, shit. if lex couldn't stand on it - now, four hours away from camp? fuck, fuck, fuck. finally, breathlessly, she turned to joss and erin, and offered them a weak grin, face sweaty and pale, still panting a little. "hey," she said, all she could muster for the second. i'll deal with them later, and deal with this now. one step forward, two steps back, right? she leaned down, making eye contact with lex."lex, look at me. how bad does it hurt? 1 to 10?"

Erin In the world's most overused metaphor: it's like a rollercoaster. But a totally shitty one. Literally none of it was thrilling or exciting. It just went from one horrible loop to a terrible moment of suddenly going backwards to another loop. She's crouched by Lex but not as close as Izzy and providing no real help other than being ready to move should she fall again. As it seems she settles on the ground again, and Izzy seems to have it handled, Erin stands. Taking a step back so she's closer to Joss. Thinking about how she should have just stayed holding her hand instead of stepping out just to be yelled at. Lied to. Ignored. Jesus. She cast a glance to Joss, a small apology in her eyes. She wonders if Joss had been thinking the same thing she had, and that's why she moved, or if it was simply because Erin had. She looked back to Izzy and Lex when the former greeted them– offering a momentary awkward pursed smile and small lift of hand as greeting in return. She wanted to rewind the clock by like two minutes, at least. Or she wanted to be the sort of person who could just walk away from this situation, even after entering it willingly. But she simply wasn't.

Alexa she couldn’t think much, which wasn’t that uncommon, but considering the situation it was a bit more to the extreme side of not being able to think at fucking all. And when Izzy took her shirt off to help, her brain had a total and utter freeze and she didn’t process the questions until moments later when she decided to scream again as the shirt touched her leg. “Fuuuuuck fuck! I am fucked it’s so fucking broken look at it! It’s disgusting!” She now starts to cry, genuinely cry as her teary eyes look over Erin and Joss, hoping breaking limbs over them was actually worth it and she would not have to fame passing out. “It hurts 25. It hurts so bad I just wanna go back, let’s go back…guys, we came to get you! T-the boys are gone they like disappeared, y-you’re safe to come back now. Everyone wants you back, we all want you back. We almost like…we almost died getting the black box and we got it and…” she trails off pushing her hair back as she look at Izzy hoping the other would follow along in convincing. “J-Jude smacked her head we don’t even know if she’ll be fine and Shane, I mean maybe it’s best you go see for yourselves ya know? We need you guys, we need you back.”

Izzy jesus christ. on a scale from one to bad, this is bad, right? she pushes herself up off of the ground and blinks hard, turning away for a second to collect herself, taking her inhaler from her pocket, shaking it, and taking a puff. with a long, shaky breath, she nods to herself for a minute, deciding to collect herself, deciding the quell the way she feels that anxiety pooling in her chest. one thing at a time, connelly. one foot in front of the other. first things first: lex. izzy turns back to the others, putting on a brave face and placing one hand comfortingly on the crown of lex's head. "hey, you're okay - it's not disgusting. just..." she said, leaning down again to peek beneath the wrap. was it broken? she had no way of telling, not like this. "just don't put weight on it, okay? you need to rest. and... maybe chill out a little. your blood pressure," she advised - really, she just didn't want herself or the others feeding off of lex's hysterical energy. then, she turned to the others, taking another long, even breath, so calm, so cool. my name is izzy connelly, and welcome to my tedtalk. "what she's trying to say is that shane sent us. so, uh, yesterday, clarke and oona went to give the boys back their axe, but - well, they're... like, gone. like, no sign of them, anywhere, and that's clarke's brother, so they looked everywhere. so we came to come tell you that, okay? and shane told me to tell you," she said, pivoting towards joss, "that - uh, 'magic happened and the boys vanished.' she said you'd know what that mean. and she said that she'll burn your hoodie if you don't come back with us - i'm just the messenger, you get that, right? - oh, and she said that needs you here. plus some profanity, but, uh..." she trailed off. yeah, still too scared of joss to give that a try. she could fill in the blanks herself.

Joss Joss twisted her mouth uncomfortably as Lex berated them. She supposed she had considered the idea that the others would be mad at them for leaving if they ever saw each other again but experiencing it in reality was another thing altogether and it made her stomach hurt a little bit. She felt useless as Izzy assisted Lex and even more so when Erin dropped to her knees to help out. The best she could offer was a comforting back rub or a hand to hold but Lex had snapped at them moments beforehand and Joss wasn't quite sure what to believe; whether Lex was furious as her first words would indicate, or relieved as she had assured them in the words that followed. Joss was lost. More lost than she had been wandering the uncharted jungle in the days beforehand. As soon as Lex started to cry, however, any reservations that Joss had had swiftly disappeared and she dropped to her knees beside her, "It's alright, it's going to be alright, we can fix this," she promised with confidence she didn't deserve to have. "I know it hurts," she assured her, rubbing the other girl's back affectionately, "-but it's going to be fine," she added, observing the injury more intently now. Completely torn out of the situation by Izzy's utterance, Joss furrowed her brow at the mention of Shane's words. "She said that?" it was clear that she had indeed said that, how else would Izzy have known? "What- wait, what do you mean? Why did she say that? Why isn't she here?"

Alexa She felt so strangely comforted by all hands on her, especially when Joss jumped in too. It was like being in hot girl heaven and she regretted not losing a foot sooner. Because surely that was about to happen, right? It's not like they had an orthopedic surgeon on-site to fix her all nice and neat. It was dreadful, she had such lovely feet. But then again there was Izzy, almost topless, pressing on that ankle. Erin, with her usual 'get down to business' attitude, and Joss, God bless, with just doing best she can to comfort her even if she didn't deserve it. She didn't, after all, she didn't deserve jack fucking shit from Joss. Not after being such a shit friend. And she knew she'd been a shit friend, she knew based on the reaction Shane's name alone had prompted. After all, here she was, practically dead for the second time in two days and Joss' eyes only filled with that...spark at the mention of Shane. She was jealous, granted, but not jealous enough to flip out over it no, she had just gotten her back and she wasn't gonna fuck that up. "I'll be fine? M-maybe, but...I need help getting back? What if I lose my foot? I can't...I shouldn't walk right now I don't...I feel dizzy...m-maybe some, some water?" she sighs dramatically, hoping no one would notice and grateful for the acting lessons she truly did fucking suck at. But she pretended most of her life anyway, to be happy, to be present, to be popular. So this was that, just another instagram story, an act for an ultimate good fucking goal. "S-Shane really wants you back, she really does she...she couldn't come because she...well, she can't really walk either, right Iz? She injured her uh....hip, yeah hip..." she looks over at Izzy, stern look but very very short. "Anyways, she sent us out for you a-and you should see how sad she's been since you guys left just...come back? Please?"

Izzy these were dramatics, weren't they? they had to be, right? how could lex pivot from i'll be fine to what if i lose my foot in a matter of seconds? izzy couldn't even tell how freaked out she should be. with amelia, she always knew, but with lex, well, it was just a total mystery. still, she dug a water bottle out of her backpack, uncapping it and handing it to lex. "you're not going to lose your foot," she said gently, "you just hurt it. you've just gotta rest, okay? just rest it." okay, that was the R in RICE, sure, and izzy had handled the compressing as best as she could; ice was pretty much a no-go, though, and they could deal with elevation when they got back. and then lex just starts lying, and izzy turns to blink at her, shaking her head a little before pinching the bridge of her nose, ever beleaguered. jesus christ! well, if she could lie, she much not be in that bad of shape. "that's not - no - what? i - lex, please," she begged, before turning back to joss and erin and giving them a weak shrug, as if to say: i just work here, man. not to throw lex under the bus, but come on. "um - no, shane, her hip is fine, she just - she decided to hang back, look after camp, make sure jude was doing okay, i think. and, i mean, she seemed... pretty upset, and i think maybe - like, it would have been hard for her to go out here if she couldn't find you," she said - more of a guess than anything, maybe projecting a little, but still. "but... the boys are gone, and shane - pretty much everyone, really - wanted us to go and get you and see if you'd come back. i guess - i mean, shane could probably explain it better, or clarke or oona, but, i mean... it's like they were never there, you know?" but, of course, they didn't know, because izzy barely knew, because it was absolutely unbelievable; still, izzy hoped they understood, if not from knowing izzy, then from her tone, that she would never lie about something like that.

Erin There's something completely off about all of this, Erin thinks. Between Izzy and Lex not being able to settle on a story and Izzy seeming to convey some sort of code from Shane to Joss but Shane not being here. It doesn't feel right. Not to mention the bold claim that the boys were gone. What did that even mean? It all gave her a stomach ache– or made the one she had already grow worse. That was probably more accurate. " I don't understand, " She said, because it simply didn't make sense. None of it. She shook her hand out before pushing stray hairs out of her face, brows furrowed as she tried to align the information she had just been given. " What do you mean they're gone? " She asked, looking to Izzy when she asked. Between the two, she was certainly more reliable. And, to her memory, Izzy had never made her feel like shit. " Like, you can't find them or ... ? " She raised her brows to end her sentence, because they couldn't just be gone. That wasn't possible. And if other people could explain it better, why weren't they here? She glanced again to Joss, but only for a split moment this time, wondering if she was thinking the same thing she was. But as she looks back to the other two she remembers the injury at hand, and the small request Lex had made in between multiple apparent lies. " Water, right, " she said quietly to herself, letting backpack slip from her shoulder so she could pull recently filled water bottle from it. " Here, " She said, offering it to Lex once she had unscrewed the top. Joss Joss felt her anxiety building more and more by the second. Lex was injured, Shane was injured but then she wasn't, Jude was injured, the boys had apparently disappeared. It was all too much for the blonde to take in all at once and with little to no time to properly process any of it, she just felt stressed instead.  "So which one is it?" Joss snapped with unintentional bite as Izzy corrected Lex. "Is she hurt or is she not hurt? Are the boys gone or are they not gone? What's the truth?" she sounded just a little unhinged as she questioned them forcefully, desperate for an answer that was the right one. How the fuck could she trust any of it? It was hard enough to trust it to begin with - Lex had been one of the main proponents of forging an alliance with the boys in the first place, enough so that she's called Joss out for being so against it. Now, Lex seemed completely unaffected by the idea that the boys had vanished. How could that be? Not to mention the Shane thing. Either she was fine or she wasn't, there was no in between but neither of the girls had presented Joss with a believable explanation and now she didn't know what to think and it made her prickle.

Alexa Annoyed that Izzy didn't back her, just for the sake of the girls returning, she now had to deal with her lie causing doubt. Fuck. Whiny and wiping the tears away, she accepts the water closest to her and takes a sip before letting out a small sigh. "Fine, fine I lied about Shane fucking up her hip but...everything else is true. We don't know what happened to the boys like, Clarke and Oona say they straight up vanished. Them, all their stuff, there is literally no signs that they were ever around at all apparently. M-maybe they got rescued and are sending back help - or they just moved camp or something, the point is, they're gone, and now that you know that, you know just as much as us about the rest of it. And Jude is genuinely hurt like she hurt her head I have no idea if she's fine or not, she was still out by the time we left and..." she wants to get up again but is too chicken to actually do it. "Look, I don't...know why you guys left and felt...safer without the rest of us, and I don't know what to say to get you to come back but, we're a team, right? We're in this together I mean, are you just gonna live out here all by yourselves? What if the help comes what if...what if something happens to you or...to us? Do you...do you not care?" she didn't want to believe that. She couldn't believe that. "The second I found out you were gone I packed my shit. I mean, I literally wore flats and got chased by a pig, let's just...can we just go back to the camp a-and discuss all this and then...I mean, come on...we're all we've got..."

Izzy izzy gave a little sigh of relief as lex began to be upfront with the others - as upfront as she could be, with none of them being totally sure of exactly what had happened to the boys. seeing lex look so weak, izzy feels a pang of sympathy for her, and kneels back down again, rubbing her back, a silent apology for not being able to just go along with her random lies - you know, morally. "listen," she said softly, turning to joss and erin again. "we don't know exactly what happened, or why the boys aren't here anymore; just that there's no sign of them, like they were never there in the first place - like magic, i guess - and that clarke and oona looked everywhere. so, i mean... you don't have to, but if you want to, then maybe you could just come back - at least for a minute, to touch base, tell people you're okay, and maybe listen to oona tell you exactly what she saw. if you want to. if you feel, you know, okay to," she said, voice even and gentle. again, she moved to her feet, wiping her hands off on her jeans ( which had long since been rolled into shorts ). izzy desperately wanted jocelyn and erin to come back to camp, but she was not the boss of them, and she was not going to force them to do anything they didn't want to do. what kind of a hypocrite would that make her? "also," she added with a little sigh, "i can't carry her back on my own." one hand moved absently to the ugly, pink, still healing scar that was visible on her bare abdomen, and only then did it occur to her that, now shirtless, all of her scars were exposed; only then did it occur to her to be self conscious. of course, they had bigger issues than izzy's vanity, so she breezed by the issue, speaking again. "i guess - i mean, if you really don't want to come anywhere near camp, i could go back and get someone who could carry her, but... i can't leave her all by herself. not here, not like this, i mean..." look at her.

Joss Joss clenched her jaw when Lex questioned their compassion for the rest of their group. Had it not already been demonstrated before? In the way Erin had provided aid and organization, in the way Joss had trekked through the jungle and had slept in a cave to rescue Jenny? The mere fact that Alexa could question it made her stomach feel sick after everything the Eves had been through. "A team?" she snapped back, "We weren't much of a fucking team when I said I didn't want anything to do with the boys and you didn't give a shit about that," it was bitter, it was immature but it was genuine. Joss had sincere reasons for her reaction to the boys though she hadn't dared share them with anybody but Shane. Even then, she hadn't meant to, it had just come out like a flood of emotion as soon as she'd opened the gate just a crack. Nobody else had asked. Nobody else had questioned why it was that she was so vehemently against the idea of joining forces. Erin hadn't either but that was different. They hadn't interrogated one another, they hadn't even spoken about how they felt in any great length but still, there remained a mutual sense of solidarity between them. Solidarity that had been absent when Lex accused Joss of being childish for not wanting to make nice with the boys. Izzy on the other hand, had offered a decent proposal, if indeed the boys were really gone and they weren't about to walk into a trap. If indeed, the boys had disappeared, maybe it would be good to touch base with the others, at least then they'd all be on the same page as one another. What if the boys hadn't disappeared? What if they were waiting for Erin and Joss to return to strip them of their inventory, to keep them from going back into the jungle or to send them back without any supplies of their own, like an exile of sorts. Joss didn't know which was worse. It was then that she looked to Erin, as she often did, for guidance.

Erin Erin felt that stomach ache get worse and worse. Each word, each admittance of a lie, each thing that sounded like a new lie. It was all horrifically overwhelming. She felt that tingle in the bridge of her nose, that one that suggested she was about to cry. And then the guilt tripping started. And it started with an admittance that Lex didn’t understand why Joss and Erin had felt they had to leave. Her brows furrowed and she looked down because she knew she wasn’t going to be able to keep the hurt and frustration from appearing on her features. Chest rising and falling again with a deep breath as she stared down Lex’s legs, trying to keep it together. We’re a team, right? We’re in this together? Do you not care? That’s when Erin couldn’t hold it in anymore. “ Do we not care? ” She repeated, slightly accusatory tone to her voice. But ever soft spoken, it gets lost in the overlap with Joss saying more closely to what Erin was thinking. It was unbelievable to her that they would come out here and accuse Erin and Joss of not caring, considering the circumstances that led them to making that decision. At least that led Erin to making that decision. Though the sensation in her nose hadn't dissipated, even progressing further to glassy eyes, she stayed and listened to what Izzy had to say to. She desperately wants to step away and just let out this cry she's holding in. But she listens. It's, again, a bit hurtful that it seems Izzy thinks they could just leave Lex injured and alone if they decided not to go back but she holds that in too. Her lips pressed together, it's not her or Joss' call to make on their own. They had to talk. And honestly, Erin just needed a second– just a moment where she didn't feel like she was going to be judged for existing. She looked to Joss, not surprised that their eyes met, " Can we talk for a second? " She asked her, already standing as she did. " We won't go far. " She said, looking back to Lex and Izzy from her full height.

Alexa All she could feel was more and more tears forming as she tried to hold it together. She may have chosen the wrong words, but she was tired of never asking the questions. She had no idea WHY Joss and Erin hated the boys so much. She was not once told that. She was always truthful, apart from rare few instances where she’d pass white lies just to soften the blow or help people out. She wanted to understand them so badly and all she was met with was feeling like a prick. For what? Wanting them back? “What do you mean I didn’t give a shit? You literally told me to my face, when…when I came to apologise when I explained my po-my point of view, you said you understood!” She snapped right back and she wiped the tears off her face. “And then you just left and you didn’t even say goodbye you didn’t even let us know…and you let Shane know. You let her know and that’s it…” she swallows a deep breath and her eyes are fixed on Joss, dead on and she knows she’s jealous and she knows she sounds it but she doesn’t have time to think before she speaks. “And how can you say we didn’t care about your opinion? We literally never told the guys where we were staying at all! We tried to vote and accommodate everyone and…we’re all just doing our best and we were doing it together and then…I’m fucking sorry, okay? I’m sorry that I don’t, I don’t fucking understand I…everyone seems to understand and I don’t, I just…I don’t know. Okay? I want you back, that’s all! I don’t understand why you left when…when we never told the guys where the camp is we never…we agreed…” She could feel the panic rise, she could feel the anger boil and then Erin jumped in as well and the frustration of being misunderstood made her not say anything at all. Instead, she looks over at Izzy. “It’s fine Iz, I’ll just hop back on one foot if we, if we head back now I can…we can get back in time.”

She didn’t even process yet the scars nor the fact that Izzy genuinely could not help her much at all. All she knew is that she did not want for Joss or Erin to help. She did not want to owe them a goddamn thing. “Just help me up and we can go…sorry we bothered you guys at all..”

Izzy earlier in the day, with her 'final girl stare,' izzy had reminded herself of her mother; now, terribly, it was lex's voice that held echoes of nora connelly, at least in izzy's mind. "stop it!" izzy exclaimed, ( harsh, too harsh ) jumping to her feet once more. ( up and down, back and forth, always so indecisive. ) maybe they were in survival mode. maybe everyone was doing their best. but that was no excuse for what they had done, what izzy had done. yes, they were supposed to be a team; and then, joss and erin ( along with some of the others ) had told them in no uncertain terms exactly what they were comfortable with, and what had the others done, izzy included? ignored them. how the fuck could they have done that? joss and erin were out here, and that was on them, because they didn't listen to them. she felt sick with guilt, a horrid despair tugging at her, but she couldn't let it swallow her whole. ( you can't change the past, her father had said, only the future. and her mother would sigh like it was an unwelcome reminder. ) she shouldn't have come. she should have let somebody else go, someone more capable, someone who was equipped for this sort of thing. she volunteered herself out of selfishness, add that to the list. ( nothing she could do about that now. one foot in front of the other. ) "you're gonna let them talk for five fucking minutes, 'cause we owe them at least that, and i wouldn't blame them if they never wanted to fucking see us again! and if they don't, and i have to get you back to camp myself, then i will figure it out, because we are not their problem, and they didn't ask for this!" she exclaimed, and yes, she was shaking, and yes, her lungs ached, and how could she even tell exactly who she was mad at, here? ( and if she had to go back to camp and explain how they had fucked up so badly that it was beyond saving, well, she would figure it out. 

Joss Joss scoffed at the argument, "Yeah, I said I understand your opinion- I didn't say I bloody liked it or that I agreed with it, I said I understood that you had it, it doesn't mean I felt any better about you calling me out in front of everyone like that," she insisted,  though she didn't want to argue the same point over and over again. She grunted with frustration at Lex's lamenting, "Yeah, obviously we left without saying goodbye- as if you all would have let us just say see ya later and fuck off if you knew we were going, we didn't have a choice. Nobody listened to us when we said we weren't going to be around the guys but suddenly everybody would listen if we said we were leaving? Yeah, nah, it shouldn't take that bloody much to have our opinions heard," she decided firmly, folding her arms across her chest, partially in a defensive manner, partially in a self-conscious one. When Izzy spoke, once again Joss felt her muscles loosen and her tight shoulders drop a little. At least somebody seemed to understand that they didn't just leave for the fun of it, that they had clearly seen the circumstances as uninhabitable and that leaving had been a last resort, not a first one. "Thank you," Joss said, a little more pointedly than she intended to. With that, she turned to Erin, tapping the other girl's hand gently and flicking her head in a direction away from the other two so that they could discuss their position without conflict.

Erin Erin was not a confrontational person, hence her eagerness to step aside and let all of this process before she said something she didn't mean. Or that she did mean but didn't want to say. She stood awkwardly as she watched Joss and Lex argue about their last words to one another, picking anxiously at a seam on her shirt. That stinging over the bridge of her nose only got worse as a feeling grew in her stomach and thoughts buzzed around her brain. Though Izzy raising her voice and cussing and caring so much was shocking to Erin, she was also grateful. She was truly holding onto her composure for dear life and she could feel it was about to slip. She needed a moment. Fuck, Izzy was right, she deserved a moment. Maybe she should have said thank you, like Joss did, but as she thought about opening her mouth to say something she realised she wouldn't be able to without cracking. Instead she hummed a small mmhmm from behind her pressed lips when Joss tapped her hand and nodded in a direction for them to walk, quickly turning to move that way alongside her. She tries to keep her walk calm, steady– despite how much she wanted to just run and hide again. Once there's a little distance between the groups she lets out a shaky breath. Feeling a tear or two finally fall from her eyes after holding them back for the better part of that conversation. If it could be called that. " Jesus Christ, huh, " She said with a humourless laugh, bundling long sleeve over her hand so she could wipe at her cheeks without completely aggravating the sunburn. She looked to Joss, wondering for the millionth time in the last ten minutes what she was thinking, but now she could finally ask. " Are you okay? "

Alexa She is utterly confused now. “Oh my God Joss how many times will I have to apologise for that? So when I came to you for snapping at you, when we had that conversation and y-you said you loved me a-and forgive me you just what? Lied? Wanted to get rid of me? I thought…fuck!” thought we were friends, she thought. But she didn’t say it, not when every word was being twisted against her and in spite of literally running into the jungle for them like a lunatic, she was the one who seemed not to understand or care. And Izzys words, God, what the actual fuck was happening? “I’m sorry but no. No! I’m not…I’m not fucking having that. We didn’t hear them out? We didn’t…we didn’t hear you out? Fucking really? So we didn’t have a vote that you just got outnumbered on, yeah? Well guess fucking what, we did. We did consider you. We literally agreed not to bring boys to camp to accommodate YOU. We agreed to a…and I’m sorry that’s how voting works some-sometimes and everyone can’t…get exactly what they want but, fuck, you’re gonna run off from us? Cr-create t-this bullshit narrative, that we didn’t hear you out? No. Am I fucking missing something? Iz?” She looks over at Izzy again, she was still hurt but the sheer lack of support but she needed something. Anything. Except she didn’t. She turns away and grabs onto the tree and pulls herself up. Pain rushed through her but it was the least painful thing right now. “Fuck this. I can see why Shane didn’t want to fucking come get you herself…” she felt sick to her stomach, sick and angry and like she was out of the loop about everything. And she didn’t need them, she didn’t need any of them. “I’m going. Come, don’t come, I don’t fucking give a shit.” And she hops to the next tree.

Izzy jesus christ. izzy wasn't the right person for the job? lex wasn't the right person for the job. did she hit her head on the way down, or something? hadn't she been at least remotely sensible and capable of empathy this morning, before they'd run into the others? and then she's up, jesus christ, jesus christ! "are you out of your goddamn mind?" izzy exclaims, before she can stop herself. without even thinking about it, she rushed to lex, hands on her shoulders, holding her against the tree, keeping her in place. it was gentle, and it was firm, and izzy was taller than lex by at least a couple of inches. "i honestly have no idea what the hell you think you're doing, so let me tell you what i know you're gonna do. you're gonna sit down, and chill out, and not put weight on your broken foot. i mean, honestly, lex, what do you think is gonna happen? 'cause you're gonna get maybe six feet like that, then fall, and the bone's gonna pop out of your skin, and then you really will lose a foot or something! and boy, will you have showed us! no! you're not doing that to yourself, and not putting that guilt on us, and i'm not letting you kill yourself out here!" izzy had done enough wrong, and she had to make it right, starting with this, with lex.

one foot in front of the other. one thing at a time. chest heaving, she continues, a little softer now, just a little softer. "and as for them? yes, lex. we took a vote. that's the thing. we never should have taken a vote, not if it was a matter of safety, not if the vote turning up yes made them feel obviously so fucking scared that they left! we fucked up, we didn't listen to them, and they're the ones that are out here, with the wild animals, like an exile or something! that's on us! it doesn't matter if we heard them out or not when we disregarded it after the fact. they're part of our team, and we valued people we didn't even know over them feeling safe. that's on us!" she repeated, chest heaving, near tears.

Alexa She listens to Izzy, she’s making sense to begin with. And with Joss and Erin out of the way, she feels slightly more relaxed. Enough to stop, sit down and smile gently. “You’re hot when you’re mad you know that?” Besides the point though, entirely besides the point. She shakes her head then and reaches for Izzys hand and pulls her down. “I’m…sit with me?” She can tell the others breath is getting faster and she realises she too was being way more agitated than she should have been. So she just sits there a minute and looks over at Joss and Erin not far away and rubs her face before speaking, her voice calm, almost a whisper. “Izzy, the only thing a group can do when reaching a disagreement is take a vote. Voting means everyone gets heard. We didn’t do anything rash or irrational or outright cruel just to spite them and I feel…I feel cruel right now for defending literally all the rest of our girls, many of which also didn’t like the boys or want much to do with them. And what about me then? Should I run off too? Because I said I wanted to let boys know where we were. So did Claire. I did not mind at all. And nobody cared that I wanted to trust them and let them in. And I agreed to go with the vote anyway, regardless of what I really wanted, because I may not dislike the boys but I respect you guys and the decision we reached as a collective.” She digs wrapping her hair up and looking over her ankle. It wasn’t broken, probably just a bad sprain she could still move it.  “And clearly, it wasn’t obvious to us that they were so mortified of them because if it were as obvious as you make it seem right now, we would have tried to reassure them more. We’re a pretty big group, it’s not…it’s not fair to blame literally all of us…it’s not fair. And I’m sorry I yelled and stuff but, I don’t know…I just don’t understand how being out here with these wild animals is safer than being with us, on a beach boys know as much about as they do their current location. Anyway..”

Izzy her mouth opens in a surprised o, and then she giggles outright, trying to help lower lex to the ground and sitting beside her, feeling suddenly very tired. she listens to lex, nodding, biting at her lip. "i know it wasn't to be cruel. i know that. i voted for the same thing as you, you know? but... look, i don't know why they're so freaked out by them, but clearly they are. and if they are, i mean, i care more about them feeling safe then about talking to the boys. not that it matters, not with the boys gone anyways. we're choosing them now, but we should have chosen them earlier," she explains, hugging her knees to her chest. a frown marred her features as lex continued. "but... i don't think they did this because they didn't get their way. i mean, you don't do something like this because you lost a vote, lex. not something like this. i think... i think they were scared. if you and clarke actually went off into the woods, i would haul you back in a heartbeat," she said, laughing weakly. "i missed... a lot of the vote," izzy admitted, "but tensions were high, and everyone voting no seemed a little paranoid, right? but if we didn't know then, we know now how freaked out they are. but we can't go back and reassure them more, and we don't need to, 'cause the boys are gone. and it's not safer out here, but they think it is, for whatever reason. but it's up to us to make them feel safe now, because that's all we can do, and the way to do that... probably isn't any of what we've been doing so far." at least that was fair. "and there's no way in hell i'm going back to camp to face shane without them," she joked. "her and joss both scare the shit out of me. if we can't get them to come back, i'm moving to the woods. so how about we just chill out, and you stop trying to go for a one-legged hike, and let's wait for them to get back, okay?" she said, voice gentle again, leaning back against the tree, head to the sky.

Alexa Izzy was right, and finally she could see the point. She did not agree with all of it, but she was in pain and she was tired and she did genuinely want the girls back. So what if she didn’t understand? So what if she wanted to? It didn’t matter. Suddenly, all that mattered once again was getting them back home. Her eyes are back on Iz and she’ll squeeze her hand just a little tighter as she offers a smile. As nice of a smile as she can considering. “Okay. You’re right…you’re right. I’m sorry.” She then looks down at her boobs and her nose wrinkles and she laughs. “Nice fit by the way…” — “If I could predict bossy Iz I’d have fucked ip my ankle sooner.” She touches it gently. “It’s not broken by the way, I don’t think, still hurts like a bitch though…” Joss Joss was practically fuming when Lex questioned her integrity, when she suggested that even for a second Joss had done anything just to get rid of the other girl. Maybe Lucy Fraser would have done that but Joss would never. She had been truthful with Lex about the things that had mattered but that didn't mean she agreed with the other girl or comfortable with the other girl's way of handling things. Especially not now. "Yeah, I stuck my bloody hand up- that's not hearing somebody out, you shut me down as soon as I tried to say anything about it and yeah, you apologised, I accept that, I appreciate it but it doesn't change anything, I still got shut down, I don't feel considered at all," she insisted. Maybe if she had actually been considered, Shane would have had a better argument for convincing her to stay. Instead Shane had understood her reasoning and had hugged her goodbye. At least that was what Joss had thought, until Alex continued. Like a knife in the gut. That was what it felt like, the moment Lex had mentioned Shane. She didn't want to come? That was it? Had the whole thing about her hip been an effort to soften the blow? To avoid hurting Joss' feelings? She backed down now, feeling a little pathetic, embarrassed even. It had taken two days for Shane to get over Joss, to discard her. Sure, it was longer than it had taken Joss' friends at home to leave her behind but it didn't hurt any less.

Erin When Erin asked Joss if she was okay, she tightened her arms folded across her chest and shook her head, "No," she said plainly because it was true. She wasn't okay. She was hurt. She was stressed. She felt guilty and embarrassed and angry and sad and misunderstood and she was sure there were more feelings swirling around in the pit of her stomach but they were all moving too fast.  She rubbed the other girl's side affectionately, catching her glassy eyes for the first time, "Are you okay?" she asked, knowing the answer already. It was an obvious answer, but at least it was honest. It was a tiny thing but it did feel oddly stabilising after the chaotic back and forth of the last few minutes. Just a plain, honest no. Even if it was horrible. Another stabilising thing was Joss' hand coming to her side, the comfort that came with it. She reached for it, fingertips touching Joss' hand lightly in a silent show of appreciation. Her natural instinct would be to lie, not wanting to add to the stress by admitting the severity of her feelings, but she found herself shaking her head instead. She couldn't say it, but she couldn't lie either. Her arms held close to her own body, a protective sort of manner– not that it would actually be able to protect her. After another second to push that cry back down she breathed deeply before speaking. " I just– " She hadn't even figured out what she wanted to say, so concerned with not breaking. " I don't understand why they're here– Like, I do. " Because they wanted Joss back. " But, like, why– like what was the point in saying any of that? " She fumbled through her words, not able to express clearly that she did understand the point was for them to go back, they had made that clear, but their muddled approach had done nothing but hurt Erin's feelings and make her feel more strongly about the reasons she begged Joss to let her tag along in the first place.

Joss Joss stole a tiny glance back in the direction of Izzy and Lex, as if one more quick look at them would provide her with the answer she was so eager to provide Erin with but nothing came to her. She shook her head to say as much, "I don't know," she confessed, "The boys can't be gone- that's fact," as far as she was concerned it was, anyway, "So what? They're hiding? They've decided to ditch us before we decided to ditch them? I don't know," she felt like she could say she didn't know one hundred or so more times and it still wouldn't adequately reflect just how clueless she felt. "So maybe they said that to convince us to come back- or you to come back anyway," since Shane apparently didn't give a shit either way, "Lex said Jude hit her head- so if that's not bullshit as well, maybe they need you for first aid," she suggested, though Izzy seemed to have a pretty good handle on Lex's ankle, so she didn't know what else Erin could do for Jude that was so unique and necessary. "I don't know," she said once more for good measure because nothing, in her mind, seemed to add up. Maybe that was because Izzy and Lex seemed to be on two completely different pages or maybe it was because the idea of the boys disappearing into thin air was so bloody ridiculous that everything else the girls said had been tainted by it.

Erin When Joss looked back the way they had just walked, Erin did too. Just like she had a million times since Joss approached her on that day they met the other group. Looking back to her after a moment as she started to speak. She agreed, the boys couldn't be gone. She'd tried to question them further on that, to elaborate more but the response they got was other people know more. Which begged Erin to ask, then why aren't they here? At the least, why didn't they explain it better to Izzy and Lex? But she let Joss continue, air out all her thoughts before Erin would chime with her own.

And then the time came and she didn't know what to say. Not really. There was a lot to cover. " Me neither. " She started with. She swallowed a lump in her throat, trying to decide what was worth saying, and what was helpful and what wouldn't be. " Like, they have to be somewhere. Izzy said it was like they were never here but they were. We all saw them, " She was sure if she looked hard enough at her shirt she would still be able to see the faint stains of blood she hadn't been able to get out from Callum. " But if they're missing, I mean, that's different. But how do we know if that's even true– and why say they're gone, like, " She thought aloud, expressing her frustration at the inability to know what was true and what wasn't with an extending of her hand in front of her before it returned to her chest. The next thing on her mind was that Joss thought they weren't here for her, when it felt cruelly obvious to Erin that they were only here for her. Erin was just collateral. But that wasn't helpful so she didn't say it. So next, Jude. And the possibility of her having a head injury. " And Jude, I mean, yeah, if it's not bullshit, " The implication being that Erin believed it was, " I don't know what they expect me to be able to do. Like, of course, I'll help if it's true and if I can– but I know just as much as Izzy and she's here. Not with Jude. " She pointed out. And even if it was true, that was a lot of fucking pressure to put on her. She was a lifeguard that went camping a lot with her family– not a neurosurgeon.

But what were they going to do about any of it, that was the question. Erin certainly didn't feel welcomed back when this was the reception of anyone seeing them for the last two days. She felt completely uneasy. Like it was a trap. " It feels, to me, " she pressed her hand to her chest more pointedly, making it clear this was only her opinion and how she felt, not any sort of fact. " Like they're both just saying whatever they think they need to to get us back. " She admitted. It didn't bring her any joy to say it but she had to be honest. It didn't feel real, or genuine. Even Izzy snapping at Lex, looking back on it could have just been because she realised Lex's tactic wasn't working.

Joss Joss wasn't particularly comfortable saying it but she had to agree with Erin, it did seem that way. It seemed  as if Lex and Izzy had contrasting ideas about what it was that would win Joss and Erin over but hadn't discussed their tactics before approaching them. As a result, they had contradicted each other and confused the hell out of Joss and Erin instead of convincing them of anything, "Yeah," she agreed, though the Shane comment had been anything but what Joss had wanted to hear. She was too embarrassed to repeat it however, foolishly hoping that somehow Erin had managed to avoid hearing exactly how much Joss' supposed pal didn't give a shit about whether she returned or not and had decided she didn't want anything to do with it. "I feel bad for Izzo dragging Lex back to camp on her own but I'm not that keen to go back," she paused for a moment, "Especially not now," she added with a scoff. As if the idea of the boys wasn't enough of a deterrent, now that Lex had popped off at them and Joss had discovered the Shane was indifferent toward her at the very least, the very last thing she wanted to do was head back to camp to face the other Eves.

Erin " Me neither, " Erin agreed, but she also didn't think she could let them try to go back on their own. The guilt would eat her alive, even if they made it back completely safe. And, she didn't love the idea of just continuing to roam around with the idea that the Eves had lost the Adams. She may not believe it in this moment, but it would likely be much more compelling and definitely more terrifying once the sun went down. " We could help them most of the way? Leave once they're close enough to make it back on their own? " She suggested, looking back to Joss for her thoughts. It wasn't ideal because Erin didn't really have a desire to talk to them, or anyone besides Joss, after hearing what they said. And she had to assume Joss felt the same. But what other option did they have? Let Izzy have another asthma attack trying to get Lex back to camp?

Joss Joss considered Erin’s proposal in silence for a moment or two, taking a deep breath in before she adjusted her posture. “Okay, yeah,” she nodded her head in agreement though her voice was feeble, unconvincing until she spoke again “Yeah, okay, let’s do that,” she repeated, having mulled it over for a moment or two longer.  “We help them get back to a safe spot, then we go the other way, or maybe loop around so they just think we went the other way,” she suggested, lowering her voice as much as she could without seeming especially suspicious.

Erin She nodded her head in agreement as Joss built on her idea, feeling far better with the knowledge that the two were still on the same page. That if they had no one else that understood them, they had each other. " I like that, that's smart, " She said, matching Joss' low voice. Though, now they'd come to that, Erin realised it was probably time for them to return to Lex and Izzy. But she had more to say. Less about their plan and more about how they had both admitted they weren't okay before trying to formulate one. She reached for her arm, meeting her eyes as she said, " Hey, you know it's all crap, right? What Lex was saying, " Her voice was still low, just in case, but genuine. There was a lot more too it, many more things she would say later, but for now she'd keep it simple. " Hurtful crap, but still crap. " 

Joss It wasn't all that often that Joss was admired for saying or doing something 'smart' but on this rare occasion, Erin had said it so easily that it made Joss feel as if it was true. She smiled delicately at the thought, still perturbed by the circumstances enough to taint her expression. "Oh yeah, yeah, nah, nah, I know," Joss assured Erin in just about the most unconvincing manner she possibly could have produced. It was moments like this that demonstrated precisely why Joss had been unofficially restricted from enrolling in year 12 drama for the sake of graduating with a VCE that year. She pressed her lips together, wanting to steer the conversation away from the hurtful things Lex had said, "So, that's our plan then," she stated definitively before a lack of confidence wavered her resolve, "That's our plan, right? We go as far as we can, we turn back- are we going to tell them?"

Erin Her lips pressed together again as Joss tried to assure her she knew what Erin said was true. She wasn't convinced, but she didn't want to push it. Instead just rubbing Joss' arm for a small second before letting go. She didn't really want to think to hard about the hurtful things that Lex had said, and they hadn't even been said directly to her. She nodded, " Yeah– yes, that's our plan.  " She confirmed, keeping her voice steady and confident. However she hadn't really considered whether or not they should tell Izzy and Lex. She didn't feel as though she owed either of them any sort of honesty but also, why stoop to the same level? " I think we should tell them. " She said, purposely using the phrasing I think at the beginning of her statement. She would roll over like a puppy if Joss had a differing opinion. " Izzy, at least, might be understanding– and either way, I'd rather tell them now than have them think we're going back the whole way and probably have another fight about it then. Right? What do you think? " 

Joss Joss nodded her head in agreement. It wasn't that she had come to the conclusion or was even particularly enthused about letting Lex and Izzy know what decision they had made, it was just that she trusted Erin to know what the right thing to do might be and either way, she was happy not to make the final decision herself. "Yep," she finally spoke, having little else to say for herself and certainly nothing profound to add to the discussion. 'Maybe just Izzy," she concurred,  "If we have any way of getting around Lex, that is," she twisted her mouth slightly, considering the likelihood of them getting something past their injured friend when she was probably on high alert after their arguments that afternoon. Erin There was a lot Erin could say, truly a lot. But she kept her thoughts to herself for now. Erin and Joss hadn't stepped aside to gossip. " Anything she says, it's just water off a duck's back, " She said with a small flourish of her hand, pulling a small smile on her features. It was a silly little saying, and that was part of the reason she said it. She wanted Joss to feel better, she wanted to see her smile– even if just for a moment. " It's nothing. We got this. " She assured confidently, all of what she was saying also to assure herself. She would try to not let anything hurtful get under her skin and upset her. She would try to have an unwavering resolve. She would try to be mature enough to see this through. As the two walked back, Erin noticed Lex and Izzy had moved slightly. Having to adjust her path from the one they'd taken for their moment aside. She wondered why. And bitterly she wondered why she was about to offer her help when it appeared they could move just fine on their own. " So, " She started once close enough, she didn't want to be the one to tell them but more than that she didn't want to make Joss do it either. " We'll help you back, but we're not going back. We'll get you close enough that you can make it on your own, but that's it. " She said, trying to convey with her tone that it wasn't up for discussion. However, knowing full well she wasn't very good at having that quality to her voice she continued quickly, her hope to move on before either of them could criticise the decision. " Is that wrap secure enough for her to move? " She asked Izzy, looking to her as she referenced the her shirt wrapped around Lex's leg.

Alexa By the time two had returned her brain was back on track at what she was supposed to be doing. And that was bringing them back. She didn’t want to argue, and if she’d known how to keep quiet and if she hadn’t hurt her leg so bad, she would probably have went about it better. And sure the other girls wanted them back too but she and Izzy were the ones actually here and as much as it hurt her that alone was not enough, that it had to be Shane or whoever else they liked better, she put her feelings aside. Because something had to give for this madness to just end. “Joss?” She called out her name and it sounded weird on her lips. She knew the other must have hated her. She always had that feeling. Hell, since day one all anyone’s done is reminded her that she looked or talked or walked like their bully or just an entitled cunt. And she was fine with that. She could live with that. What she couldn’t live with was letting the girls die in the woods because she felt hurt they would leave them in the first place. “I’m sorry I didn’t…mean what I said. I’m just, I’m confused and in pain and…well I guess I’m also a bit jealous that you like Shane more than me and that…you didn’t actually forgive me and…I don’t know, I care for you. I wouldn’t be here if I weren’t, I wouldn’t have packed up my bags the second I found out you two were gone, if I didn’t genuinely truly from the bottom of my heart want you back. And I know, I know I don’t have the right words all the time but…fuck, I’m sorry, okay?” She knew she shouldn’t have thrown Shane under the bus as a dig but she didn’t lie, as far as Lex was conserved, she didn’t want to come.

“And Shane wanted to come, I just…I begged her to let me go instead and look after Jude and the camp.” A lie Izzy wouldn’t know was a lie. The kind she had to resort to now. “But it was her idea to go in the first place. She said that and look, look she even gave us a map a-and thought about where we might find you and….she’s gonna be so fucking mad if we don’t get you back.”

She now looks at Erin. “I know we’re not closest friends. You and me. I also know you are one of the most genuine and generous people on this island. And smart and resourceful….you saved our asses more then once and I, well fuck maybe I want to return the favour. Because as safe as this may feel, just the two of you far away, it IS still dangerous. And now with these guys gone, it’s like…where the fuck did they go? What if they find us or you or…I don’t know what to think about it all I’m scared too. I’m…scared all the time. Of everything. So please just…come back? I’m sorry, for everything I promise if you come back i won’t even…I won’t talk to either of you ever if that’s what you want. I mean it I will stay out your way. But don’t let me being shit with words and stupid and judgmental stop you from doing what is best for you. I understand if you wanna drop us off and go, you have every right to but…at least until we figure out that it’s safe out here maybe just…come back, just for a while?”

Erin Shane wanted Joss back, and that was why they were here. Erin already knew that but to have it laid out for her in the way that Lex did with her attempted apology to Joss and well … Erin figured it was supposed to be an apology to her too, but it hurt. She thought herself pathetic and childish for it but it still hurt. Part of her wanted to just skate past it, say anyway and just keep moving because their decision was not up for discussion. But, Lex said she didn’t understand, so she thought it was only fair to try and give her a chance to. She took a small breath to try and gain her confidence, she was not a confrontational person, or even disagreeable most of the time and she hated having to be. “ Respectfully, Lex, you don’t know what’s best for us. ” Her voice was calm but genuine. She was expressing how she felt and setting boundaries, something her mother always said she had to be better at. “ You say you understand our decision and that you respect our right to make it, but you don’t. And that’s fine, ” Was it though? Too late, the people pleaser had jumped out and she’d said it anyway. “ Because it’s not up for debate. It’s our decision. That’s all we need you to understand and respect. ” If she wasn't so emotionally worn out she might have been a little impressed with her ability to say all that without speeding up or getting caught up in her own words and hurt. With a breath of pause to let all that sink in and nod that Lex's leg was secure from Izzy, that meant they were ready to go. " Okay, let's get you up now then? " She said, moving to Lex's side so she could help her up, looking to Izzy to see if she was ready on the other side. " On three? "

Izzy izzy nodded and tried to bite back the frown that threatened to weigh down her features. you did not have to be a genius to understand that all of this had far more to do with feelings and fight or flight than it did what was best for anyone, because there was nothing safe about being off in the woods alone - that had been well established time and time again. but what was izzy going to do? if joss and erin didn't want to come back, it was not up to izzy to try and change their mind, or tell them what do to. ( not that knowing that would make izzy feel any less culpable if something happened to them out here. it was her fault that they left, and her fault that they didn't feel safe enough to come back, and they were at an impasse. ) she was so tired. ( and if she was tired, how much more tired must joss and erin be? lex? )  slowly, she pushed herself up to a standing position, eyes flitting between erin and lex for a minute. she was unable to verbalize how grateful she was that they'd agreed to help her and lex, even after everything, so, in leu of allowing herself to get choked up, she simply managed, "okay. thank you. i'm ready," she agreed, and gently moved to help lift lex. "does this feel okay?" she asked lex, trying to hold up her weight as best as she could. "i think camp is that way," she said, motioning in the vague direction from which they'd came. please let the pig be gone, she prayed silently. Joss If Alexa had taken some time, some real time to actually consider the way she had approached Joss or the Things that she had said to her then maybe Joss would have been able to see the sincerity in the other girl's apology. Coming so, so soon after the event, however, when Joss herself had barely been able to catch her breath after it, it just felt like a last ditch attempt to salvage things between them that lacked any real heart. Instead of voicing any of that however, Joss simply nodded her head, deciding to focus on the task of getting Lex back to camp safely, without further injury. "Let's just go," she insisted, not wanting to continue the conversation nor wanting to hear Erin and Lex get into a heated discussion over who knew what was best for whom. In fact, if all four of them travelled back to camp in silence for however long it took them to get there, that would be just fine with Joss.                                          -------------------- TIME SKIP --------------------

Izzy as they approached camp, the sense of dread izzy had been carrying with her only grew heavier, until finally, she could nearly see the beach through the trees, and she could see the smoke from the fire rising into the sky. she was not exactly sure how close joss and erin were willing to get, but she figured that this must be pushing it, so she abruptly halted, taking a deep breath and ignoring the dull pain in her kidneyless side, and the slight anxious shake to her hands. "i - i think we can take it from here," she said, wishing she sounded a little less like she was on the verge of a freakout. she bit her bottom lip, glancing away for a beat and then looking to erin and jocelyn again. "thank you so much, really. for helping us. is there - are you, like, running low on anything? supplies, i mean, like, do you need anything? we can, like... i could bring it to you now, or someone could leave stuff for you at the waterfall, if you need it. even if you don't wanna come back to camp, like... it's still your stuff, too, so if you want - " she rambled on nervously, before cutting herself off with a nervous little sigh. "do you need anything?" she repeated, head ducking towards her chest as she looked at them with watchful eyes.

Alexa By the time Izzy had calculated it was close enough to stop. She was exhausted and  her leg was pulsating all over and she felt like passing out. Sweat was dripping from her forehead down her face and her neck and she felt disgusting in every sense of the word. She couldn’t bring herself to look at any of them so she smiled instead at Izzys words. “Y-yeah, we can drop off t-the blanket too it must get really cold out there.” It was best she could think of without saying much. “Thanks guys. Real sorry about be-before. Stay safe…” she hops few steps ahead on her own and can almost smell the beach from that point. She hops on further, leaving Izzy alone with the girls for a moment.

[bakubitch-minusultra]

Not Alone: Chapter Three

-> an apocalyptic series with bnha characters but without quirks because im the writer and i can do whatever the fuck I want :3

-> Word Count: 2.4k

-> Warnings: Blood, guns, violence

-> Taglist: @5sosfckss @laudthingcat [if you wanna be added lmk <3]

“Where did you learn to stitch someone?”

Y/n looked back over at her guest and frowned, “My dad was a survivalist. He made me go to survivor camp every summer and took me hunting all the time. When it all started he plannned for us to come here. The book shelves are lined with his survival stuff.

Mina frowned, “Did he come with you or did you come alone?”

In that instant it flashed in Y/n’s eyes. The memory of her father pinned by a truck. His hand reached out for her. She could see them coming as she felt his fingers pushed them away. Her feet listened to him and started to run. They move against her wishes.

She shook the memories off and looked at Mina, “Where are your parents?”

Her eyes went blank like Y/n’s, “My mom died of sickness in the beginning. She went to work and never came home, and dad...well, he’s gone too.” Her voice started to quiver a bit and trailed off. Y/n didn’t press any farther.

“They’re all gone Mina. All that’s left is us and them.” Y/n almost twitched when she said the words ‘us and them’. She included Mina in her ‘us’.

“Mina?” A sleepy voice came from the living room. She quickly got up and out of bed to go check on Kirishima.

“He’s burning up.”

Y/n nodded and walked into the room and stretched, “Good. His body’s fighting the infection. The tree bark from the branch wass really flakey. I tried to flush the wound as best as I could but some bark might still be in there.”

Y/n felt a small spark on the back of her hand when she rested it against the balmy skin of his forehead. He took her hand in his. It was a moment of intimacy that Y/n’s never experienced before. She didn’t pull away but she didn’t know how to react as he squeezes her hand.

“Hard to thank you when I don’t know your name.”

Y/n felt her hand trapped in and looked over the back of the couch and gave him a small smile, “My name’s Y/n.” She felt expressions play across her face and quickly pulled away from his sweaty palm. She walked to the leftover boiled water and poured him a huge glass of it and then passed it to him. “You’ll need this.”

His red eyes sparkled and suddenly Y/n’s stomach ache was back.

“Thanks. Thanks for everything. I know you could’ve left me in that hole.” Y/n broke his stare and looked at the hardwood floor.

“It was nothing.”

Mina looked over at them and grinned, “How old are you Y/n?”

“Nineteen.”

Mina smiled, “I’m eighteen.”

Y/n felt sad when Mina told her that. She realized that Mina was eight when her mother never came home from work.

“Kirishima is twenty.” The room went quiet, Y/n didn’t know how to add to the conversation. She didn’t have conservations. Hades sensed her awkwardness and padded towards her, nuzzlin his face into her palms. “Where’d you get him?” Y/n scratched his face and smiled at how Mina had already won Hades over.

“He was at the doorstep one day. I heard his mother dying in the woods near the house. She got the infection and died just after giving birth. Her cubs started to eat her and got the sickness too. Hades was the only smart one. He never ate her. He found me instead.” Y/n grimaced and tried not to think about having to shoot the baby wolves.

Mina beamed at the large wolf, “He’s huge.”

“Very, but he’s good company and helps out around the house.” Mina laughed at that. She was bubbly, Y/n remembered her grandma calling kids bubbly and wondered how bubbly Mina would be if she had a normal childhood. Y/n looked back at Kirshima who was falling asleep again. “He falls asleep fast. We need to make him some soup.” She walked to the door and looked back at Mina. “Can I trust you?”

Mina shook her head, “No, I like it here and I’ll do whatever you want to let me stay but if it comes down to it I would sell you out to save Kiri.”

“Fair enough,” Y/n liked her candor and pointed to the books on the shelf, “Start with the top shelf. They’re the easiest reads.” Mina nodded and grabbed a book. Y/n knew Mina was a survivor.

The wooden paneling of the outdated cottage was comfortable and bright with the light filtering in through the huge windows. She hasn’t seen her cabin for what it truly was until that moment. Having seen Mina and Kirishima in her house made her realize how lucky she was. She had a fleeting thought and wondered when was the last time they rested on comfortable furniture.

Hades’s yellow eyes met Y/n’s eyes, he spoke to her only with his look. He wanted to stay with them. He didn’t completely trust the new guests either, Y/n could see it in his eyes. She nodded at him and walked out of the cabin.

She needed grouse or pheasant or wild turkey. There weren't a ton of them in the area but Y/n knew a spot. The cabin sat surrounded by huge fir trees and brush, green was everywhere. It made her nervous in the beginning. It was so big compared to her and she felt like there were eyes on her from a thousand vantage points. She could see the infected stepping over the brush, arms reaching for her. Blood running from their eyes and seeping sores covering their skin. Their tattered clothes and the smell would overwhelm her as they pulled her to the ground.

She could see the other. She could hear herself scream as their greedy fingers bit into her skin and dragged her into the woods. The woods where she would scream like the other girls. The tearing of the clothes had haunted her from the beginning. The infected tore flesh and the others tore clothes and the sound could swallow you up.

But now she saw the greenery and listened to the sounds of the forest and knew that she was safe. The forest was her friend. The relationship was tense in the beginning, but it earned her trust over time. Just like Hades, it had become a part of her family. Where she lost one family, she gained another.

The branches broke under her feet but in a way that kept the birds chirping and squirrels nattering. It was a gift that she had learned from Hades. He was able to wander the forest quickly, but in sync with the woodland creatures.

She stopped at the small dip in the forest, she had a great view from there. She blended into the trees and listened as she closed her eyes and waited. She grabbed her bow and arrow and got ready and waited for the sound she was seeking. It was a pheasant.

She watched the bizarre looking face of it and it’s spectacular colors. She could tell it was male. She took a deep breath and on the exhale released the arrow perfectly. It took her two years of constant shooting to be able to down an animal at that distance. The pheasant dropped without a sound as the arrow pierced through his throat just below it’s throat. She waited an extra second before putting the bow and arrow back in a small hole and going to retrieve the bird.

While she retrieved her catch she constantly looked over her shoulder. Kirishima and his friend had been watching her for two months before she became aware of them. Her sense of security in the forest was questioned. Heat flushed her cheeks as she walked back carrying the bird by his feet. She caught herself thinking about Kirishima; his red hair and red eyes and long eyelashes.

A stabbing pain ripped through her thigh.

She looked up to see the reflection of a scope from across the small gully. She quickly dropped to the ground and layed among the brush. Her heart was beating out of control.

Mina.

Y/n was sure that she had shot her. She wants her cabin, she had made that perfectly clear. Y/n’s heart hurt for the smallest of seconds before she hardedned and came to terms with the fact that she would have to kill Mina. Flashes of her pink hair and how much she cared for her friend crossed Y/n’s mind.

Shots whizzed passed Y/n in the brush. Y/n wondered if Kirishima had known that Mina was trying to kill her. Y/n held her breath and waited. She knew Hades would come for her. Then she heard footsteps. The forest was silent as the predator moved through it. She felt a sickening hurt after she realized that she had been betrayed. She regretted helping Kirishima out of that hole. She should’ve never opened the door. She should’ve cracked open the whiskey and listened from inside her cabin and waited for Mina to die or leave.

She knew she would regret it.

Y/n looked around. There was too much brush surrounding her. Any movement she made would give away her location. She could hear the footsteps drawing closer. They were heavy in their step, breaking branches roughly. Y/n was certain that it was Mina. She was certain that she would be shot in the back of the head any minute.

The whizzing noise started again as bullets hit the tree behind her. Y/n wondered what Mina was doing and why she hadn’t just shot her already. Thinking that Mina had lost the spot where she shot her, she thanked the bush for being so thick around her. There was a heavy thump and some rustling near me and Y/n started to panic silently. She had no idea what was going on.

“Y/n,” a whisper filled the forest and Y/n looked around without rustling the bushes. “Y/n?” Suddenly she felt Hades' breath on her. She looked up to see Mina squatted beside her. As soon as Y/n saw the rifle in her hand she was filled with rage. But she knew that the bullet in her thigh wouldn’t allow her to jump up and fight Mina for the gun. She looked at Hades who was on edge. He was hunting as if Mina was his partner and that hurt Y/n more than anything. “Y/n I killed him but there might be others.”

“What?” The words left Y/n’s mouth before she could register her volume.

Mina put a finger to her lips, “He probably isn’t alone.”

Y/n looked at her gun in Mina’s hands, “You never shot me?”

Mina pointed to the bush beside Y/n, “He shot you. Why would I shoot you? What? Where are you shot?”

Y/n tried to ignore the pain as she got up on her knees, almost crying out when she made it onto her feet in a hunched position. She saw the boots of the man on the ground.

“Those are military issue,” Y/n spoke softly, scanning the forest.

“Great.”

Y/n limped over to him and bent over. Her leg was pouring blood now. She took off her outer shirt and tied it around her thigh tightly and then fished the guy’s pockets. The warmth of her blood was already seeping down her leg. The guy was older, forty maybe. He had brown hair and looked like he had been eating well. She took his gun and knife that she found in his boot and tossed some beef jerky the man had at Hades.

“We could’ve eaten that.”

Y/n looked at Mina and shook her head, “Never eat anything you take off another human. Could have the infection or be rotten.”

Mina pointed at Hades, “He could get the infection.”

“He’s immune.”

“No one is immune.”

Y/n smiled sarcastically, “I have downed sick things before and he’s eaten them. He never gets sick.”

Mina made a face as she untied the dead man’s boots, “Oh god, so he ate his mother and lived?”

Y/n nodded, “Yeah probably. I try not to think about it.”

“You said he never ate her.”

Y/n shrugged as she scanned the forest and spoke quietly, “I want to gross you out ir scare you while I was fixing your friend’s wounded leg. We just met. I was trying to be polite- get the bird.”

She took the boots and the bird and walked over to Y/n, “Need a hand?”

Y/n leaned on her and Hades came up on her other side. He was less scared now.

“He got all crazy and started scratching at the door. He tried to open the door himself. I knew something was wrong. He led me right to you.”

Y/n brushed a hand through his dense fur. It wasn’t the first time he’d saved her life and she knew it wouldn’t be the last.

As they walked back to the cabin Y/n felt sick and afraid. There was no doubt that the army guy was not alone.

Her small cabin was under attack and the shirt around her leg was soaked red. She felt weak. She was afraid that the bullet was still in her thigh and thought about the fact that Mina was now the only able bodied person. Her safety and comfort was gone and in her mind she could hear the tearing and screaming again. As she walked through the door, Mina helped her to the other chair. She sat on the edge and tried to not get blood everywhere.

Hades looked worried, his eyes were concerned and full of expression. He nudged her and Y/n scratched his face and kissed the top of his head.

“I can’t believe you thought I shot you. That’s really what you think I’d do after you helped Kirishima?”

Y/n wobbled slightly from the blood loss and tried to muster a smile, “No, but I was scared. I’m glad it wasn’t you.” She felt the chair against the back of her head and the ceiling started to spin. She felt like she might throw up but then everything goes black.

--

[octonaut-belle]

I’d um-

Still like to see that old drawing you showed as a writing? The one with Tweak and Belle trying to save the twins and Peri?

OUGH I FORGOT ABOUT THAT

HAD TO DIG THIS OUTTA THE ARCHIVES OF MY PHONES NOTE

Context:

Belles ears twitched as she stood with the group, she had heard something- over Bianca talking about the recent storm she and her Cubs had been in and Marsh’s chatter, along with the others. She watched as Tweak turned and Marsh’s speech faltered, both looking at the same place she was.

Her stomach twisted; that didn’t sound right. At all. Like water receding but far too fast and too soon.

“Belle?” Bianca chirped,

“Tweak?” Captain added at the same time as the two took off running. Marsh soon following.

They’d both heard it. It was a tidal wave. The closer they got the more they could hear the Cubs talking to Peri about the shells they have found now that the water was gone, and their speed picked up.

Belle was the first there, having ran just before Tweak did, Marsh further behind. She’d barely gotten her arms around Peri when the wave crashed into her.

It sent her into the water, pulling her deep down as it did so. She inhaled right before, holding her breath as she reached the surface. She looked around, the others on the beach about to jump in when she screamed out:

“No! Not without the gups! Get to the gups! I got it!”

Belle was a surprisingly strong swimmer given her weak ankles, and as Peri cling to her back she found herself pushing harder to swim along the shore.

She was still frantic as she looked for the twins, finally spotting Orson floundering in the water.

She dove for him; grabbing his scarf in her teeth like a mother would do to a kitten. Ursa- she had to find Ursa. Trying to stay calm as she carried Peri on her back- who was ripping at her fur- and Orson in her teeth- floundering in his reasonable fear- she was struggling to find the other cub.

By some twist of fate by Lady Luck, Tweak resurfaced in that moment, carrying non other then Ursa, clinging to her back like she would her Uncle.

“I- I got er!” Tweak sputtered out, and Belle gave her a thumbs up, the two swimming along the beaches shore, both knew fully well swimming against the undertow was an awful idea, even as the adrenaline faded.

“The currents getting softer here-“ Tweak said as she swam ahead, finally able to move towards shore and flop onto the beach. Muscle aching. Belle joined her, dropping Orson gently.

“Let me just call the gups-“ Belle chirped, tapping at her collar. Nothing.

“Oh no.”

“Lemme try-“ Tweak muttered as she did the same, again, nothing. “Shoot.”

Belle sighed, looking at the twins who were huddled around Peri. “We’re cold!” they cried, and the lynx nodded.

“I bet, but you were also very brave.” Belle said softly, getting down to their level. “I’m proud of you both.”

“We were?” Orson squeaked.

“You are?” Ursa sniffled.

“Very.” Belle hummed, pulling them in for a hug. They leaned into her, she was rather warm after all. “How about I start a fire?”

“Yes please!” The two chirped, and she smiled. “Of course.”

Belle turned to tweak. “Got a plan?”

“Fix up our collars-“ Tweak huffed as she tinkered with her own. “But for now. Looks like we might be spending the night.”

“Of course.”

Hopefully.. the crew wasn’t waiting time in finding them.

[blackfemmecharacterdependency]

13. Exposing the Void Pt. 1

A lot of this chapter is straight up Simon’s thoughts, so it gets jumbled and possibly confusing. Let me know if there’s parts where things are unclear (most likely in those times, we’re inside of Simon’s thoughts). Word Count: 5969. Trigger Warnings: Self harm, child death, child abuse, mental instability, mental abuse, dehumanization, betrayal, delusions, intrusive thoughts... 

This chapter was actually the hardest for me to write in this story, thus far. And please keep in mind that in this space, there is no ableism allowed. So, refrain from using terms about psychosis or mental illness as insults towards the characters. The purpose is not to blame Simon’s actions on poor mental health or to excuse his behavior due to his trauma. The purpose is to understand a story in a world where mental illness is not necessarily the cause of why some people do evil things, but is sometimes a factor (not usually, as mentally ill people are generally more likely to hurt themselves than others), but yes, there are occasions where our psychosis can led to dangerous outbursts. Please don’t use the phrase “Go psycho” when referring to any variation of Simon Laurent, even this one. Thank you.

Previous

Simon was getting a tattoo. He’d already decided that much. He didn’t know of what, but he was convinced that he would think of something. It seemed healthier than self harm, at least… and a professional would mark him in this scenario. 

He had a full course on his schedule, additional hours of extracurricular activities and work, plus interviews and maintaining his website. Plenty to do to keep his mind off of it - the void. His nostrils flared just thinking about it. Sometimes, he found himself checking social media for updates from a backup account. He had been blocked under his personal and professional ones. But, it wasn’t back. The last post was the same post that had been shared to each of them by its team.

“Hello, Apex Members. On behalf of The Internet’s Honey, Miss Grace Monroe, we would like to express the sincerest apologies for the negativity that has been spread and for the things that Miss Monroe stands accused of. She is seeking help at a secure location, and it is our hope that she will return to you soon, in all of her glory, fully restored, healthy and well.”

The comments were thousands of “Fuck Grace Monroe. She’s cancelled.” etc. He had been amused before, but the more comments that were added, the more numb he became to them. He was numb to many things… still somehow… it left its mark on him. He pulled up his sleeve and looked at his tallies… it left several. “Fuck Grace Monroe,” he whispered, shook his head and said in a louder, more confident tone, “Fuck the void.” A little mantra before his early AM classes. 

Whenever he got home, though… He went through a range of emotions for a while. Everybody lies to me. Everybody leaves me… Even when nothing had anything to do with this thought process, if he wasn’t focused deeply on something else, there were the thoughts. Sometimes, even when he WAS working on something else. The thing about living alone and being at home was that he had a lot of time to get trapped in his harmful thoughts, and no Grace there to ease things. Not anymore.

It started with his mother. She was only going to be gone “for a little while.” 

Simon wasn't confident in his abilities to watch himself AND a younger person. He was a cub scout and even a careful child, but he knew that Hope could be a handful, sometimes even for their parents. “I don’t think I can watch Hope, Mom.”

“Oh, of course you can, Simon!” She cheered. “It’s only for a little, short, while, and you’re my capable little man.”

Hope laughed and said, “He’s not a man. He’s Simon.”

“If Mom says I’m a man, then I am!”

Their mom clarified, “He’s a big boy who gets to be man of the house when Mommy and Daddy aren’t here. Mommy’s Little Man. You’ve got this, Si. Like I said, only a little while.” She tousled his hair and filled him with confidence that he had not had a few minutes prior… then she was gone for what felt like forever. 

18 year old Simon knew that she had only been gone for 2 hours, but as a 10 year old watching a 4 year old who didn’t want to be watched by a “fake man,” it seemed like a lengthy stretch of time. With Hope doing things that she knew she shouldn’t, taunting him by telling him that he’s a fake man and that’s why he couldn’t stop her, and whenever she tried to go into the attic, that was the last straw. He had gotten really mad at her. She had been teasing him, calling him a fake man, a little baby, a small, small Simon… He didn’t mean to hurt her, but he was offended by her name calling. He was only going to drag her into her room and make her have a time out. 

18 year old him knew that he was angry when he grabbed her by the back of her shirt, as hard as he could, upset with her, but also needing to get her off of the ladder and into her room. 10 year old him yanked her off of the ladder and flung her to the floor beneath them with rage. She let out a screaming laugh whenever she went flying down, but when she hit the floor… she became silent. 

Simon shook his head. That wasn’t my fault. I was a child! The void had been right about that. “Who leaves a 10 year old home alone with a 4 year old?” He heard her voice ask, when they were kids. More than that - Who tells a boy that young that he is trusted with the life of a smaller child? That he’s “a man” because you need a little favor? Two. Hours!  

He still didn’t know how long he had sat there trying to wake Hope up before their mother came back or where she was at that time, but wherever she was, he hoped she thought about it every single day that she tried to blame him. He hoped it ate away at her and corrupted her from the inside out until her health faded and her heart stopped. He didn’t always feel that way. 

When he was 10, he blamed himself. He loved his mother. He wanted her back. He wanted to be her little man again, even though he failed her. He was still so young and confused, and nobody was helping him to understand it all. He couldn’t answer why he didn’t call 911. He was scared. He was crying. He... just didn’t think about it at the time. He hadn’t been prepared for an emergency.It was supposed to just be a little while! I was supposed to be the man of the house. Nothing bad was supposed to happen on my watch...

It continued with his father. So furious with his wife’s decision that he couldn’t stand to share the same breathing space with her most of the time. Unfortunately, that also meant not sharing it with Simon. He told Simon that he didn’t blame him. He lied. Some part of him had to, because otherwise, why would he have left him with the woman who had been so irresponsible that they already lost one child? Because… he died in his father’s eyes that night, too. The man was just too much of a coward to admit it. So, he just… left.

And Grace… He almost started crying, but shook his head and shook her it out of his mind. “Void,” he said and clenched his fists. Still… He missed her it. She It was the only thing that used to be able to get his mind off of his family, his pain, his guilt, his rage… 

For so long, she it was the only thing. Now, he was left to just force himself to live through this. He was better off. It was going to stop his full potential. It had already stunted him so much. He spent years building a fortress for it and throwing himself in front of everything that came its way. Never again. 

.

After they began officially dating, she was acting weird and he let it go. This was new for both of them and she was still trying to figure out her sexuality. He thought he was extremely understanding about her characteristics. As a matter of fact, up until the moment that he realized that she was a liar, he found no flaws in her at all. He loved all of her, perfect in every way and in the ways that she wasn’t, he never took notice. He just re-imaged those things as perfect, because they were things that were of Grace. Being a snobby, rich bitch - fine. Being lazy and irresponsible, sure. Being wishy-washy and confusing… he didn’t love that, but he accepted it and always assumed that maybe he was mistaken, or maybe she was the confused one in those moments. He never thought that she was deceiving him. Now, it was all that he could think about.

How many lies she must have told him over the years, how much of his childhood and adolescence was built upon those lies… He had to try to void everything that he had ever known her to be from his life, and from his mind.

“Do you not love me?”

“I do!”

Had he not been so blinded by his love, he would have known that she didn’t mean it. He would have heard it in her tone. He would have seen it in her eyes. “The void was just that good,” he told himself. “It tricked everyone. You watched it work for so long, you thought that you were exempt. It cares about nothing but itself.”

She seemed like she was withdrawing from him. He didn’t want to see it at the time, but he knew what that looked like. He couldn’t stop his mother from doing it. He couldn’t stop his father from doing it. He couldn’t even keep the pet cat around! How does one even run off an animal? 

The point was… he saw Grace leaving. He saw her packing up. He saw her setting out. He did everything he could possibly think of to prevent it, even before she realized that she was leaving. But, when somebody wants to get away from you, they’ll do whatever you let them do to get away. She should have thanked him. He not only let her go, but he removed her completely. That’s what she wanted, anyway. She made that decision herself. “The void would have taken everything from you. Everything you worked for. Everything you’ve built. Everything you set in place to manage without the liars, the leavers, the lost ones…” 

She first began slipping away from him before they became official. She started having problems with things that she didn’t have problems with previously… Honestly, she started the moment that she chose to leave him behind to tour for the summer when they were 15. The previous 5 years,  she had plenty of times she could have went on the road. She either blew off her auditions or she didn’t push herself as hard. She had said that she could show off her skills on the Internet and have just as big of a following, if not a bigger one than if she built a resume of dance troupes and traveling ballet. She even forfeited the chance to be in a Broadway production, because she was worried that she’d never get to see him again. Then, when they were 15… It became more important to her than him.

He tried not to take it personally, because she had sacrificed plenty of opportunities for him before. But, it was a bad time for him, and a busy time and… he needed her. He always needed her back then. He had never been prepared to not have her. Sure, he could have went with her, like she wanted, but if HE put off his things, he didn’t have rich parents to fall back on. He didn’t have parents to fall back on, period. She… was in more of a position to give up her goals… but she had decided not to. That was fair. He told himself many times every day that was fair and she deserved to choose herself sometime. She came back changed… or maybe he changed without her there. That much doesn’t matter, right now. What matters is that he TRIED to fix them. She leaned more into these changes. These changes that could tear them apart. Changes that would leave him lonely again, for the first time in years.

Grace was working on her music career junior year. After the tour, she had connections that she didn’t want to go cold. She would throw herself into those and into creation while Simon was working on a future that he still hoped was for both of them. He was working his ass off for them, but in hindsight, she was working hers off for herself. After she was Simon’s girlfriend, at school, things felt different for her. Everybody treated her exactly the same way that they always had, but everything was just different. 

Simon was either more social than she knew him to be, or had gotten that way overnight. Then again… He was in StuCo and held a position… so he had the social skills to at least win people over. She supposed that she hadn’t noticed because he was the one who she always had to talk out of a fight. He was more than that, of course, but… she guessed that she hadn’t realized how many friends he must’ve had, because he was doing a lot and having to leave her behind, most of the time.

Most times, he gave her a quick rundown of what type of stuff he had to do for the day, kissed her on the cheek, promised to see her later and rushed off. She chalked it up to the busy schedule that he had been speaking about for this year, at least a year in advance, and didn’t think much of it. At least, whenever they had space, she didn’t have to wonder what to do next. She didn’t have to decide if she should be sitting in his lap like his friend’s girlfriend, or in between his legs like that girl across the way, or straddling him like Shana sometimes did whoever she was dating, or… sit there, with her book, pretending not to see any of it and smiling at Simon whenever they made eye contact. 

Simon was always studying her, surveying, making inventory of her expressions and potential emotions. She could feel him investigating and she didn’t know what to do with that. He didn’t know what to do with his findings… Why was she so uncomfortable when he looked at her? Why did she shy away from his gaze? What was wrong with her that she didn’t want his attention? She always wanted attention… it was basically her identity! Not only did she start to seemingly have problems with his attention, but also the rest of the world’s attention.

Being trapped in her room most of the time meant more work on her music. Anytime she posted something new, someone always showed up to remind others of how she "accosted an innocent woman on the train and threatened to ruin her life if she sought justice" and that she "is actually a terrible person." Sure, her fans defended her, but her focus was stuck on the negative feedback. Simon told her, “Don’t worry about those nulls. You’re Apex royalty. They’re scrubs.” He wasn’t remotely concerned about it. 

Simon had asked himself if he had defended her to them, would things have been different between them… but the previous times he had defended her, she got mad at him! It took him days to get her back to normal, and even then, she seemed tepid. She was letting a bunch of strangers on the Internet doubt herself. 

“She let a bunch of nulls weigh in on her confidence, then she got made at ME for agreeing with her parents that it was weak of her. It was! The Apex doesn’t care about the opinions of nulls!” He realized that he was speaking of the void like it was a person again. Personifying it. Humanizing it. That was sometimes difficult not to do. He would tap into his disappointment, hurt, and anger and he knew it was because of this rot that had spread in his life for years. 

But, every now and then a glimmer of her smile, her smell, her softness would hit him in the heart and he would forget about it temporarily. For a few moments, she would be the love of his life again… “It doesn’t care about you. It never did. The void is a parasite. It would have poisoned everything, if you hadn’t cut the head off and incapacitated it.”

He glanced over at a mannequin head designed to look like it. It had given him the idea, inadvertently whenever it jokingly accused him of being a life size figurine of himself. Immediately, he thought - I’ve gotta make her one of those! It was a passion project, and of course, he didn’t have a lot of time to work on it, but the head was complete by the time it showed itself as the hollow it was.

.

Grace felt like she hadn’t smiled for real in a while. Nobody really noticed. The Apex didn’t know her that well. Simon didn’t have time for her. Her parents probably never cared. She went into town with her flock of girls, these days. She felt like Simon was sending them to be around her and she didn’t know if that was sweet or creepy. But, she ditched them at the mall to go to see him. He was at work that night, at the learning center. He had a job helping to tutor struggling kids - one that his credits as a student tutor at the Academy, his grades, his position as one of the students enrolled in the early college program, and a recommendation from Mr. Monroe got him hired at, despite the fact that most of the staff here were actual educators. 

They didn’t even know about the fact that Simon had started a business of doing people's homework, projects, sometimes their tests from the time he was 11 until he was 15. He was definitely qualified for tutoring, but it was her father’s recommendation that really gave him the edge over actual teachers. He was satisfied enough there. He still did a project or two for the rich kids when he could squeeze something in, for extra cash. He was saving up to move out of his dad’s house. Now that his mother was at her mother’s, his dad was considering leaving the military and coming home. Simon didn’t want to be around for that, but there never seemed to be enough money for anything. That was his “adult” experience… Working all of the time, going to school, barely hanging on to his sanity, and yet being so broke that had his father not still been paying the bills, he knew he might be homeless and starving… so it was presumable that's how he might live once Mr. Laurent got back.

He couldn't ask the Monroes for more help. They had practically been taking care of him for the past two years. Mr. Monroe, at least, had been helpful in ways that Simon couldn’t describe. Sure, he believed he would have figured things out for himself , but thanks to the Monroes, he hadn't had to. He intended to pay them back eventually, but for now, he worked hard and loved Grace with everything else he had. 

"Hey." He heard her say, walking in with a bag and a cup holder. His smile was wide and his eyes lit up. That made her reflexively smile back. How many of those smiles were fake, he’d have to wonder for as long as he couldn’t shake her out of his mind. “Ditched the girls to bring you dinner. Didn’t know if you’d have a chance to get to some on your own.”

He checked the time on his phone, “Actually, you’re right on time. I was about to go into the computer room and work on homework before I head out.”

“Yeah! Great timing is a thing that I definitely usually don’t have.” 

They went into the breakroom to eat and Simon was on his phone, furrowing his eyebrows and blocking people in Grace’s comments. She glanced over and saw, then sank in her seat, not wanting to think about her latest post. “This sounds really good, Grace,” he told her.  And he meant it. The vocal coach that she had began to see so that she could confidently transition into singing was paying off. It wasn’t that she sounded bad before, but her voice was pretty bland and she didn’t seem to be able to find her range on her own. 

“I wish the audience thought that,” she said, with a sigh. The Internet was making her depressed and isolated. Every thing that she shared came with thousands of critics. As someone used to only either being complimented or ignored, criticism hurt a little more than she would have expected. Perhaps because she was too popular and therefore attracted more feedback than a person probably should have to be faced with at 16.

Regardless of that, Simon shrugged and said, “Anybody who doesn’t like it doesn’t have to listen to it. They’re there, so they obviously wanted to hear the song. Besides, I see way more support than hate.” 

“Maybe so, but there’s a LOT of hate, and it’s very aggressive and hurtful. Like… I don’t understand why me trying out a new song and someone not liking it can’t just be scrolled by. Why did this girl have to tell me: Ugh. Everybody tries to be a singer. You’re a lip gloss model, Honey. Keep doing that. Beautiful gowns.”

“Because, she’s a bitch,” Simon said and took a bite of his sandwich. Grace let out an irritated sigh that caused him to look up from his phone. “What?”

“You just… don’t get it.”

“What don’t I get? The song sounds good. You have excellent equipment. You wrote pretty clever lyrics, did your own music, sang and was proud enough of your work to share it with the world. Now that a few birds have come squawking, you no longer see the greatness in what you shared? I know you wouldn't have posted it if you didn’t think it was perfect. So, I get it more than you do. You’re distracted by someone with a crooked wig on in her profile picture?” 

Grace looked at the profile picture and saw that the woman’s wig definitely had been sadly placed onto her head. She laughed about it  and laughed at herself a little too… but this was always Simon’s reaction to her venting about the people that made her feel bad. He’d basically make her feel a little bit worse by not acknowledging that her feelings were valid and by pointing out how insignificant her critics were. The simple fact that he had a point, that they were nulls, and she was letting them upset her only made her feel worse, which she couldn’t tell him because he didn’t seem to take her feeling bad that seriously anyway. 

She knew it was because she had always prided herself on being strong and not caring what people thought about her… but she was handled a lot differently outside of her echo chamber. The Internet was global and her following was high, but some of the people who followed her seemed to do it just to see what to complain about, just to make a dent in her day. They succeeded, too. But, the only person she could admit it to just told her to suck it up. 

“I’m thinking about going to a performing arts college,” she said. Simon dropped his phone and stared at her. She smiled awkwardly and said, “I mean… You’re preparing pretty hardcore for college and I’ve dived into this music thing. Maybe, I ought to be more serious about it and actually get the official credentials..”

“Where are you thinking of going?”

“I’m thinking of trying to go to Julliard.” He relaxed a little bit at that. Juilliard was in New York. That would be farther from him than he  would like, but if he was at MIT, that would be about an hour away and if he was at Princeton… well… That would be 3 hours, or more… but… He had enough time to put these things into his planning and decision making. “Or… I might go uh, overseas.” Now, his frown was embedded in all of his features. “If I can’t get into the best one in the world, I’m going to shoot for the next best… that’s in Austria…” She bit her lip, waiting for his demeanor to change, hoping that he just had to think about it for a moment. His demeanor did change, but he seemed further away from what she wanted of him at the moment. “What brought this on?” He asked.

“Just… want to get more serious about my craft. Sure, I can spend hours and hours a day working on choreography and songs, training with some of the best professionals in the entire world, but people are still coming onto my dance video posts and saying things like, “I didn’t know that Grace Monroe could dance! I love her more now!” Didn’t know that I could dance? That’s like… the ONE THING that I can do with complete confidence! I’m trying to get my music career started when my first talent isn’t even recognized…”

“It IS recognized! It’s recognized ALL of the time. You’re just so focused on the dregs that don’t recognize, that you’re willing to go 4000 miles away from me, for years, to impress strangers on the Internet who probably STILL won’t fuck with you, because most of the people inciting you are people who just don’t like you, Grace!” He let out a chuckle of disbelief, but she hated it.

“Don’t laugh,” she said, very seriously.

“I’m not laughing,” he said, shook his head, then slumped back in his seat, resting his face in his palm as he tried to collect himself. 

"How could you have possibly taken everything that I just told you about how I'm feeling and what I intend to try to do about that and just… make it about you?"

He uncovered his face to look at hers. She looked like she was going to cry. He hated when she cried. It was too far away from her normal… at least it used to be. She was crying more and more lately. Sometimes from the littlest things.

"If you can't see how much a decision like that will affect both of us, then I'm not sure if I currently am in the mood to explain it to you."

"Whenever I shared my thoughts about how much people were hurting my feelings, you didn't care about how that could affect the both of us. You just expected me to deal with it on my own. This is my idea for how I deal with that."      

He leaned his elbows on the small table, steepled his fingers and rested his head against his hands. She wants to leave you. She’s using the excuse that people are hurting her feelings so that she can leave you and never come back. She never wanted you. She made that clear and you refused to see it. You thought that it was your brain being mean to you. She lied to you. She never loved you and she never wanted you. Now, she’s pretending that worthless people make her feel bad… She would rather look WEAK to you than to stay with you… 

“Simon?” She said. He scoffed. Fake concern. Don’t let her trick you with her soft voice. She’s venomous. She let you love her because she was bored, and now, she’s trying to abandon you like everyone else. “Simon,” she said, more stern. Drown her out. Drown her out. Drown her out. Drown her… “Simon!” She had gotten up and turned his face to look at her with her palm. She made him look into her eyes and he was powerless again. “Where’d you go?” She asked, smiling nervously.

“Did I do something wrong? Why do you want to leave me?” He asked, in a small voice. Maybe his brain was being mean right now. Maybe… it was all a misunderstanding? PLEASE, JUST TELL ME YOU LOVE ME AND THAT I’M OVERREACTING! I. WILL. BELIEVE. YOU.

“No. I did. I thought that I was ready to introduce myself to the world and now that the world knows me, there’s people out there who can’t stand me and I just… I don’t know how to do with that. In real life, they at least pretend to like me, you know?”

She rubbed her hands together anxiously. Lies. She can’t possibly care about the way these strangers feel. She’s Grace Monroe. She knows that she’s invincible. Caring about the movements of ants is futile… “Okay… What do you need me to do to fix it?” He asked, trying to ignore his brain’s warnings.

“Just, support me? I just want to take a step back from all the Internet music, maybe keep creating and try to get into a studio with something I’m proud of, instead of posting onto my websites, and… I really want to try to go to school, just to be more confident that I really do belong in the industry and that I’m not just Internet famous because I was a pretty face with the best organic lip gloss.”

“Support you… leaving me,” he said. 

She couldn’t pick up any emotion. It was like something had settled in his mind. Something that he didn’t let her know. “It would be temporary, Simon. Just like whenever you thought you would have to go to the military after graduation.”

“I recall very minimal support from you in regards to that.”

“Yeah, well… I stick by what I said. Our military is a global terrorist, oppressing and destroying civilization in mostly Brown nations. Juilliard is hardly like that, and I most likely will get in! I don’t think I'll HAVE to go to Austria. I wanted to be clear that it’s an option.  I just meant the time that we’ll be apart. Plus, I’d send for you if you ever need to see me.” She knelt beside him, cupped his face and kissed him on the lips. He froze in place. She NEVER kisses you on the lips. She always moves her face to make you kiss her on the cheek, or the nose, or… something. She’s placed her hand between your mouths, before! You can’t ignore this any further. It’ll break your heart. You’ve lost her. There’s a void where your Grace once was… Tears fell down Simon’s cheeks as he stared at Grace’s confused face.

She wiped them away with her thumbs and as his tears were being cleared away, so was her face. He just saw a blurry form in front of him, a dark shadow, with an aura of smoke. He looked terrified. She turned to look behind her, alarmed by his reaction, thinking something was hovering over her. She definitely felt a switch of things in the atmosphere. She didn’t see anything though. Simon did.

A void. It stood in front of him, speaking with Grace’s voice and trying to pass itself off as the girl he’d loved for as long as he knew her. That girl was obviously gone. No longer fit for him. No longer fit for the Apex. “Okay.” He said, suddenly fine, as far as she could tell. “I’ll support you.” She offered him a small, confused smile, but he didn’t return it. He didn’t even look at her again. He collected their trash, threw it out and took her hand, “I’ll get you home. 

.

Simon was silent the entire way to the Monroe’s estate. He didn’t get out to get her door, or walk her to the mansion, or talk with her father, so she knew that even though he said he was okay with her decision, that he wasn’t. It was best to just give him his space to work it out, she thought. She thought wrong... Simon tensed up whenever she kissed him on the cheek goodnight. As soon as she got out of the car, he peeled away, vigorously wiping the Apex red lip print from his face. She didn’t deserve to grant anybody that mark anymore. 

He drove with trembling hands and lips, talking to himself, arguing with himself about Grace. Grace that once hunted down his bullies with him because she thought he was the most important person in the world. Grace who had threatened anyone who so much as said something rude to him in passing. Grace... who used to want to be near him, and have his back. The Grace that couldn’t stand the thought of being anywhere without him at her side... She was as dead to him as Hope was. 

Speaking of... This had began right around the time that she brought him to the cemetery. Was it related? Had Hope somehow reached over and taken her vengeance on him by stealing away his Grace and replacing her with this dark spirit? This ghost? This VOID??? He pulled into the garage of his house, crying again. He left his backpack in the car. He wasn’t going to be doing anymore work that night. He passed the shrine that his father had in the workspace every time he pulled in, but usually, he avoided looking at it. Tonight, he paused and stared at her face. He... had forgotten it. He looked at the photos, wondering if she always looked that way? Not the angel that he remembered dying, but something sinister, smiling joyously at him as he shriveled in pain. “Did you do this?” He asked her. He could hear her laughs in his mind from that night. Her taunting him, making him feel like he wasn’t enough. “I didn’t mean it, Hope! It was an accident!” he yelled at the photos. 

“Fake man! Fake man! Wook at the widdle baby man! Can’t catch me! You’re not a man! Mommy lied! Mommy lied!” 

“I’m sorry, okay? I didn’t mean to. I didn’t... Please, just... stop.” He whispered, crying more than he had in a long time. Her photos began to move, to cackle, to point at him and call him a baby man... He roared and punched the display, breaking the glass of the frame, which fell on it’s face, bounced off of the desk and crashed to the floor. Now, it was covered in blood. Only a bit of it was from his fist... the rest seemed to be seeping from the cracks in the frame. Like... he had killed Hope, all over again. He picked up a shard of the glass and clenched it in his fist. This was too much. It wasn’t real. It couldn’t be. This was his mind messing with him, He needed to center himself.

He raised his sleeve and looked at all of the tally marks that he had made for his Grace and he began to add on to them. “1 You are stronger than anybody you know. 2 You are smarter than anybody you know. 3 You can survive losing Grace. 4 Only you can get rid of the void that swallowed her whole. 5 You owe the Apex to get rid of the void. 6 You can do anything. 7 There’s nobody who could stop you. 8 You’re on your own now, but that’s for the best. 9 No one will hold you back. 10 No one can hurt you again, because everyone you loved is gone...” He took a deep breath, looked at the broken frame and threw his piece of glass on top of it. He didn’t even care about cleaning it up. The girl in the photo couldn’t hurt him anymore. And neither could the one in his memories... The one that he used to call Grace, “The void,” he said, going into the house. 

Next

[evdarcy]

An Unusual Hero C6S3

Please remember, this is unedited and unfinished, but will hopefully fill in the holes that were left and answer some questions without leaving too many others. HOWEVER I will answer all and any questions if you want to leave me a comment.

Next update - Tuesday 04/05/2021

An unhappy squeal of surprise jarred Luc awake. He sat up quickly—

‘Fuck!’ he called as he smacked his head on the roof of the too small car. He rubbed his forehead as he looked around, trying to work out where he was and what had woken him.

The driver’s door was open and over the top of it he spied a tree line far in the distance. With the air cold and damp, a gravelly pathway under the car, and the sounds of splashing water and short gasps of breath, Luc was betting they’d stopped by a lake or river and Sarah was trying to use the freezing cold water for a wash or something of the like.

The TV star shook his head as he climbed out the little Hyundai, closing both his and Sarah’s doors. He glanced around, taking in the beautiful sight of the Grand Teton mountain range before honing in on his… captor? He shook his head, that didn’t sound right. He’d ran off with her of his own free will, but then it wasn’t as if he’d had much choice. Between one gun and the other, hers had seemed the less threatening.

God, Luc hoped he hadn’t been wrong about that.

He glanced down the the lake’s edge. He’d been right, Sarah was knelt beside what Luc knew to be icy cold water, splashing it over her face and shivering with each handful as the water dripped down her nose and chin.

He took a deep breath and released it before he called down to her. ‘Keep the doors closed.’

He quickly turned away, finding the nearest tree and unbuttoning his jeans before relieving himself against the bark.

‘Oh God,’ he moaned in satisfaction as his bladder emptied. What an idiot he’d been yesterday refusing to go when Sarah had offered him the chance. He’d partly refused just in case she’d left him behind, that she’d call The Demon and offer him over if he left her alone. The other part of him knew if he’d got out the car yesterday he’d have called the police on Sarah.

‘The car smells,’ she called back to him. ‘It needs airing.’

‘Rather the smell of us than raccoon piss,’ he shouted back. ‘Or a bear getting nosey.’

‘A bear!’

He chuckled as he heard Sarah scrambling around on the shoreline, her footsteps crunching on the gavel as she hurried back up towards the car. He shook himself off and was about to tuck his dick away when a stranger stuck their face in his. He reared back at the intrusion, stumbling slightly, until his back hit the car.

‘What the—’

The woman was the same height as Sarah, but had long, thick, auburn hair, sparkling green-blue eyes and a tiny petite nose and chin that made her cheeks look round and full. Luc knew his mouth was hanging open, but she was beautiful; fresh faced, wide-eyed, and the way her hair tumbled around her round face made her look innocent and vulnerable.

Although the terror in her eyes probably helped with that latter part.

‘What do you mean a bear?’ The voice was definitely Sarah’s. ‘Are there freaking bears around here?’ Luc tried to fathom what had happened as he watched this woman’s head snap left and right as she scanned the line of trees on the other side of the car.

‘We’re in Wyoming,’ he said, slowly. Perhaps she’d been wearing a wig? A false nose and chin could also explain away the changes. But how hadn’t he realised? He could usually spot prosthetics a mile away.

‘Do you know how many parks there are up here?’ he continued, his eyes taking in her new profile; her narrowed eyes were framed by long dark lashes and her nose had a little lift to it at the end. ‘We’re probably not far from Yellowstone.’

‘Where Yogi and Boo-boo live?’

‘Er, they live in Jellystone, and they’re not real.’

‘Oh… Fuck off!’ she snapped as she folded her arms across her chest and glared at him. Definitely still Sarah. The bite in her tone mirrored what he’d heard yesterday, although the flicker of annoyance in her eyes was different.

That was why her eyes had been odd yesterday. There had been no emotions within them. He hadn’t been able to read her eyes, only her facial expressions—which would have been hindered by the prosthetics—and her body language.

She huffed and shook her head when he refused to back down from her hard stare, dropping her eyes down his body to the floor. But her eyes grew large and a flush to her cheeks flamed the apples of them red. A small squeak of surprise came from her lips as they fell open and Luc glanced down to where she was looking, cursing himself when he saw his dick still hanging free and easy from between the flies of his jeans.

‘For fuck’s sake,’ he hissed, quickly turning away from the woman’s eyes and tucking himself back into his jeans. Heat filled his own face and Luc knew he’d be bright red for a few minutes. Once his zip was secured, he stepped to the side and began to walk towards the water’s edge, avoiding facing his partner in crime until he wasn’t the colour of a tomato.

‘So what happened to the hair and eyes—’ He began to call over his shoulder, only to stop when he saw her following him. Luc had been a star for many years, he’d had fans, super fans, and outright stalkers; bodyguards, teams of security, and once a police escort, but never had he been followed the way Sarah was tracking him now. Her back was to him, her was gun out and her head darted left to right as she tried to take in everything.

Where had the steel-balled woman from yesterday gone? Clearly Sarah was a city girl and not a country gal; she might be able to stare down death when it came in the form of a gun-toting terrorist, but he’d bet every nickle and dime he owned that she’d run from a room screaming if a spider scurried from a corner.

He sighed and stopped, putting his hands on her shoulders he turned her around to face him. ‘Sarah,’ he said, pushing her gun down so she didn’t accidentally shoot him. ‘Here’s the deal. If you see a raccoon just run and shout at the furry bastard. If a bear comes charging at you, get to a tree and climb. The cubs can haul up it, but the bigger ones shouldn’t be able to—’

‘Shouldn’t?’ her voice squeaked.

‘Now, if it’s a wolf—’

‘Get in the fucking car, Luc!’ Sarah wrenched herself from his grasp and turned, running up the tiny hill to the little black Hyundai. Luc couldn’t stop the laughter that fell from his lips, a throw your head back guffaw, right from the belly.

‘Now, Luc!’ she screamed as she slammed the door and began to hot-wire the engine again. He chuckled all the way back to the car, shaking his head as he went at the irony. He hadn’t laughed so hard or so freely in what felt like a lifetime.

The car coughed to life in the cold Wyoming air as he settled himself next to Sarah, a smile still playing on his lips as they pulled away.

‘You’re in a better mood,’ she muttered, looking at him from the corner of her eye before fixing her gaze back on the track to the main road. Luc hummed in agreement; he was. Sure he was on the run, sure the life he knew—the fame, fortune, and fans—was over with, hell he might even be murdered tomorrow, but he was free.

His smile grew bigger at the thought, a show your teeth, shit-eating grin, Casey would say. He turned his attention out his window, taking in the landscape to hide his smile from Sarah.

Snow still covered the mountain tops that surrounded them and the chill in the air made him glad he’d never chosen to come camping this far north on hiatus. The boys on set had been hinting at attending one of the Dude Ranches that had been springing up over the last decade or so, but nothing had ever come of it. And the idea of Casey, Nick, Marc, or Robson surviving in a ranch setting was hilarious. He imagined Tony would’ve been fine with it, and BB would’ve probably outshone the lot. Sophie… He shook his head. That girl didn’t go anywhere there wasn’t an electrical socket for her hairdryer.

A twinge in his chest brought him up short as it hit him; he wasn’t going to see any of them for a while. Or, perhaps, ever again…

‘Where we heading?’ he asked, trying to swallow the ball of emotion that suddenly seemed lodged in his throat.

‘We passed a town about an hour or so before we parked up last night,’ Sarah told him as she pulled back onto the 191 and this time headed south. ‘We need to get a few things and figure out where we can lay low for a while.’

‘Why don’t we just go back there?’ Luc asked, pointing over his shoulder with his thumb. ‘There was a cabin in the trees that looks like it’s been locked up for the winter. Its owners probably won’t be up this way until the summer.’

He said cabin, but it had looked little more than a hut when he’s spied it through the forest. It probably had one or two rooms and no running water or electricity.

Sarah frowned at his suggestion, pulling her lower lip between her teeth as she considered it. ‘But it’s May, summer’s nearly here, they could return at any time.’

‘Nah,’ he shook his head. ‘Summer this far north doesn’t start until July. We’d probably be fine. It’s off the highway,’ he added as an incentive. ‘Probably better than a motel with our current situation.’

‘But… bears?’ she said it quietly, her head hunching between her shoulders as she drew them upwards. Luc had to stop himself from grinning again, she was definitely a city girl. ‘Or were you lying about them?’ She narrowed her eyes as she glanced at him. He held his hands up as he shook his head.

‘Absolutely not. But I can get some things to help keep all the nasty wildlife away.’ He watched her as she considered his words, her finger tapping on the steering wheel again.

‘No bears?’

‘None.’ He crossed his heart. ‘Scouts honour.’

‘What about wolves?’

‘I’ll keep them away too.’

‘Fine,’ she said. ‘But if I wake up to a bear in bed with me, you’re being its bitch.’

Any questions, please drop them in the comments. Next update on Tuesday!

[welcometothebookreport]

In 2020, I read 40 books (with maybe a few more to be added after I post this) after discovering my love of reading all over again. I am not a very hard reader to please, so it will be rare for me to rate a book with a low score, so I doubt you’ll ever see any criticism from me. So, here we go!

A few things before I start: There are three series in this list (but technically only two, because I’ve only read Serpent & Dove so far) but I’ve limited myself to no repeat authors. That must have been the hardest part for me. Since Jessi went the extra mile and ranked them in order, I’ve decided to make myself suffer the same. And while most of these were not published in 2020, they were read in 2020.

I am (sometimes) a picky reader, but any book that is on this list, I have loved. I chose not to rate them because honestly, they would have all been high. I give ratings easily, and try not to pick things apart even for books I truly did not like.

Please keep in mind that I do my best to add trigger warnings, but you should always check for certain triggers before reading. Triggers vary for everyone.

10. Saint Anything by Sarah Dessen

Warnings: There’s a male character that’s a creep and you’ll spot him as soon as you crack this one open. This tale deals with Peyton being sentenced to prison, and their mother practically glossing over what he’s done by victim blaming.

I have read Dessen’s books since I was 13 and I truly still enjoy her stories as much as I did then. While this was a re-read for me, it’s a tie for my favorite book of hers. It’s tied with Along For the Ride.

Sydney is left in the aftermath after her older brother, Peyton, is sentenced to prison after a drunk driving accident that paralyzes a boy. Formerly in his shadow, Sydney struggles to discover what it is she wants, and how she wants to be seen as her own mother seems to gloss right over her. It’s a YA read that always feels like more than the romance that originally interested me.

9.  Serpent & Dove by Shelby Mahurin

Warnings: Misogyny. The church and religion plays an extremely heavy part of this plot, which was hard for me to get into. It’s clear that some characters do not value women in their actions and words toward Lou. It made me uncomfortable in spots because I just wanted to get past it, but I plan to read this one again since I know that it won’t bother me this time! Still, there is: violence in parts, religious zealots (in case that’s something that makes you uncomfortable like it did me), derogatory slurs toward women, and again, misogyny.

I finished this one two days ago, and I sincerely cannot wait to dig into the sequel. Lou is a witty, snappy character that was such a breath of fresh air from the normal. You usually see the male lead that’s a bit crude, a bit quick to pull the trigger, and the one that’s harder to crack. Is that what happened here? Absolutely fucking not. Shelby Mahurin took something I loved, enemies to lovers, and kicked its ass. Forced marriage? UM YES. A witch and a witch-hunter? Mortal enemies? Characters that can never possibly love each other? DONE DONE DONE.

It’s hilarious in parts. Serious when it needs to be. A bit spicy too, while not a lot, which I certainly appreciate. Reid’s character development is a wonder to watch, at least for me, and by the end of the book, I am so in love with him that I don’t know what to do with myself. I have so many annotations for this novel.

8. The Shadows Between Us by Tricia Levenseller

Warnings: There’s a fair bout of murder. Women are expected not to take lovers before marriage while men are not held to the same standard. Gross. Allessandra is continually underestimated so let me say: let the women do the work.

It’s called the Slytherin romance we’ve been waiting for, and I agree. While this is a shorter read, and a standalone, I was pleased with it. Both characters are incredibly ambitious, but it’s Allessandra that steals the show. The plan? To enter the palace, woo the king, and then kill him in order to take his kingdom. She’s wicked in all the ways I love.

I loved this book, and each page, but this was the line that will make me return to it: “I’m not a trollop,” I announce to the empty room. “I’m a sexually empowered woman, and there’s nothing wrong with that.”

The Folk of the Air Series by Holly Black

Warnings: Aside from murder, there’s nothing that stands out to me as a trigger.

A series! The first! There’s something interesting about this series for me, and it’s that I didn’t fall in love altogether, all at once. It was gradual, like wading into water until it went right over my head. By the final fourth of The Cruel Prince, I was fully invested in this world and I absolutely needed to know how Jude and Cardan would become, well, Jude and Cardan.

As a YA series, I was not expecting the sheer amount of mystery, political intrigue, and plot twists that came with this series. However, I never knew what was going to happen, and if I did guess what was coming, Black had at least two more twists to send me for a loop. The Queen of Nothing was likely my favorite book of the series, with The Wicked King as a close second.

6. Red, White & Royal Blue by Casey McQuiston

Warnings:  Discussion of attempted non-con assault, forced disclosure of sexuality

I laughed until my eyes watered and I nearly cried in this book. Delightfully funny, and snappy, RW&B delivers on everything I didn’t know that I needed. I had never read a book where LGBTQ was represented in such a positive light. As someone raised in a more conservative household, I’ve known my own sexual orientation for a long time, but this book made me feel like I could relax in my skin because this story was stunning.

Alex and Henry left me with so much hope that it’s impossible to ever put the lid back on. I’m so happy I read this.

(oh, god, we’re in the final five.)

5. The Caraval Series by Stephanie Garber

Warnings: Physical and emotional child abuse.

I could dedicate multiple posts to this series. Maybe I still will. While this is at number five, it’s my favorite series I’ve ever read. If I could only have one series to read for the rest of my life, I would choose this one. Hands down. Full stop. These characters live in my head constantly and I would give an obscene amount of things to read it all over again for the first time. I actually read this with two of my closest friends in our many book club, and we all loved it.

Doused in magic, this world is unveiled to us with excellent descriptions. Truly, Garber owned my heart within a few chapters. Scarlett is the elder sister, Tella the younger, and if you don’t love Tella by the end of Caraval, I promise you will. I know because I was skeptical, but here I am. I’ve said it to my friends, but Scarlett is the one who holds my hair while I have a hangover. Tella is the one that helps me start the bar fight.

With non-stop turns, and magic, everything comes to life on these pages. And the romance, the romance. Please, please give me my great love in this style. It’s not too much to ask for, is it?

4. Letters to the Lost by Brigid Kemmerer

Warnings:  loss of sibling, loss of parent, alcoholism, mention of infidelity, mentions of previous physical and emotional child abuse.

Mae sent this recommendation to me, and I devoured all of Kemmer’s books post-haste. Declan and Juliet fall in love without knowing who the other is, while also not liking the real version of their penpal. Juliet has lost her mother, and she’s treading water, but not well. Declan has suffered in the years that follow a family tragedy, and he’s not adapting to life with his new step-father.

But he opens with CemetaryGirl (Juliet) and it’s raw in the best of ways, and the openness between them that eventually moves from their bubble to reality is one of the most pleasing things to read. I’ve read it twice this year. I will read it again next year too.

I also read this twice this year and will for sure be reading it again in 2021.

3. The Night Circus by Erin Morgenstern

Warnings: Child abuse.

This was another novel that I fell in love with as I went, and that’s definitely because of the non-linear narrative. It was a little confusing, but I’m going to read it again someday since I know everything now! I read this to follow-up to Caraval with my book club pals, and it’s just what I needed to leave Caraval behind. Marco and Celia are incredible and I absolutely believe that the ending of this novel is one of the best endings I’ve ever read.

My book club has not finished this book entirely this so I’m not sharing any spoilers, but I would like to share one of my favorite quotes. “What did you wish for?” “I wished for her.”

2. Next Year in Havana by Chanel Cleeton

Warnings: Cuba is in the middle of a revolution, and it’s tense in parts. There are some bittersweet elements and I think the parts of the ending are like the punch in the gut you need in order to wake you up and remember to live.

This was my first read once I really dug back into this hobby in August. It was picked by Reese Witherspoon for her book club, and she always picks good books. This is a dual timeline romance, and mystery. It’s an absolute stunner of a book. It’s a dear favorite to me now. I’ve never been to Cubs, or heard stories, but Cleeton manages to make you feel like you’re right there feeling saltwater spray across your face.

The romance made me feel breathless, but truly it’s the strong familial ties that make this such a beautiful gem. It leaves you with hope even in the dark and with love in the absence of it. I could scream about this book for the rest of my life, which I absolutely intend to do.

Favorite line? “You’re going to be difficult to walk away from, aren’t you?” “I hope so.”

1 In A Holidaze by Christina Lauren

Warnings? There are none that strike me. This is a lighthearted read that pulls at the heartstrings, but it’s by no means short on the laughs. And, I’m sorry for the long wall of text below.

In A Holidaze is the story of a woman stuck in her ways of never going after what she truly wants until a stray wish lands her in a time loop over the holidays. It's only after repeating the same day a few times that she quite literally says "fuck this," and starts living for HER. I really expected this to just be a Hallmark kind of read, but it was SO MUCH MORE. You should read it, even if it's after the holidays.

It's witty, and heart-wrenching, and it's just everything I didn't know I needed. Mae is snarky, and brave when she figures out that there is nothing stopping her, and the romance is - GODDAMN. Andrew. I need an Andrew and a fan.

It's not quite a love triangle, which was what I expected and I was so pleasantly surprised. I have grinned like a goddamn fool all day. I have giggled all day in front of customers, and my co-workers. I have nearly CRIED in my bedroom when my heart fell out of my ass and landed somewhere near my ankles, because hello, it's gonna get you.

This is going on my yearly re-read list for the holidays.

In the two days since I’ve finished, I’ve convinced my two friends in book club to read it, convinced Jessi to order it from Book of the Month Club, convinced another friend to read it, and bought it for Mae on Christmas day because her library had a six month hold and that was simply unacceptable.

[politicalmamaduck]

a single soul in two bodies

As Rey builds her friendship with Rose Tico, she builds a relationship of a different kind with Ben Solo. Read it on AO3 here. Happy birthday, @lenuca!

Pain. Anger. Frustration. 

The feelings were overwhelming, and reached a boiling point. 

A woman screamed, primal with rage, at a man standing in front of her.

A lightsaber ignited in the darkness. 

A tree came crashing to the ground.

The woman, breathing heavily, fell to her knees in the jungle and started crying. 

…

A man and a woman entwined in the night. They did not speak; their minds and bodies conveyed what words did not. 

The woman broke away from the kiss, from her lover’s arms. 

“No,” she said. “You should have come home with me.” 

The man dissolved into the air, despair covering his sharp face. 

The woman tossed and turned in her bunk, unable to return to sleep until she imagined his hands and his mouth covering every part of her body while she touched herself in the darkness. 

...

“It happened again, didn’t it?” 

Rey was glad she was working in the Millennium Falcon’s bowels, her hands busy, and therefore didn’t have to meet Rose’s eyes. 

She often thought that if they ever met, Maz Kanata would have something profound to say about Rose Tico’s eyes. They were beautiful eyes that nothing slipped past. 

Nothing slipped past. 

Rey sighed. 

She hadn’t talked to Leia about Ben yet. There had been no privacy in the escape from Crait, and after that, no time. There was so much to do, and never enough hours in the day, no matter the planet on which they were. They had finally settled into a small base on Ajan Kloss.

No one save Leia and Chewie knew Rey very well yet, not even Finn, who was already becoming such a leader in the Resistance. Rey and Rose were both proud of him, even if it meant they were all separated for various tasks and missions. 

But Rose--Rose knew something was wrong, even if she didn’t know Rey very well yet. Rose noticed the dark circles under her eyes, heard Rey’s nightmares, and already knew about the bond. They were practically roommates, volunteering to stay with Chewie in the Falcon’s quarters while the base was being fixed up. 

Rey and Rose’s current mission was helping Chewie repair the Falcon again. The temperamental old bird was up to her usual tricks, aided by the flock of porgs that had taken up residence while Rey and Chewie were on Ahch-To. 

Rose heard Rey crying in the middle of the night, waking them both up. Rose knew Rey could see someone who wasn’t actually there. 

“Would you pass me the hydrospanner?” Rey called, only to find Rose suddenly appearing directly in front of her. Rey had neither heard her coming, nor felt her in the Force. Rey was distracted.

“You didn’t answer my question,” Rose said, handing her the hydrospanner. Rose crossed her arms, looking stern while covered in sweat and grease and with her hair sticking up and out all over the place. 

“Yes, it happened again,” Rey said, quietly, focusing on the repairs and still not meeting Rose’s eyes.

“You need to talk to the General,” Rose said. 

“I know. But there’s never a good time. And she’s still healing from the attack. And--” Rey’s voice trailed off. 

And I don’t know how to talk to a mother about her son.

A son that I loved.    

A son that I love.

I want to help him, Leia. I just don’t know how. I thought I could save him. 

He needs to save himself.

“And you need to stop making excuses,” Rose said. “The General always makes time for us. She’ll want to know about this, Rey. She deserves to know, too.”

“You’re right, Rose. I know you’re right. It’s just--”

“It’s just what?”

I screamed and threw my lightsaber at him when I saw him again for the first time. I was so angry, so hurt that he wouldn’t come back home with me, that he stayed with the First Order and the Dark Side. 

Between my emotions and throwing the ‘saber, I destroyed a tree in the jungle.

I dream about him. 

I dream about … 

Rey took a deep breath. She could trust Rose. Finn trusted Rose. Leia trusted Rose. 

“Rose, how did you know you loved Finn?” 

“I just knew. He was a good partner, he was willing to listen and learn from his mistakes, and even sacrifice himself for all of us. I knew he was a loyal friend to you. It was easy to fall in love with him. He accepted me for who I was.” Rose paused, shaking her head. “Do you love Ben? Despite everything?” she asked. 

“Yes,” Rey answered. 

Rose sighed and shook her head. “You really need to talk to the General,” she said, then pulled Rey into a warm embrace. “I know you can bring him back,” she whispered into Rey’s ear. 

Rey didn’t answer. She savored the feeling of arms around her, even if they weren’t the broad, muscular arms for which she longed. 

Just a few weeks ago she had never had a friend before. Now she had two friends, a Wookiee mentor and copilot, and whatever Ben was to her. 

She and Rose finished the repairs for the day, then turned in for an early night. 

…

Rey awoke in a bed that was far softer than hers. She looked around, but it wasn’t Ben’s bed on the Finalizer either; this bed was also softer than his. The sheets were luxurious, and there was more than one pillow and a canopy overhead. 

There was a light coming from under a door to her right. It must have been a refresher, for she could hear water running. 

The water turned off, as did the light, and the door opened. A heavy footstep indicated its owner. 

“Ben?” Rey asked. 

“Rey?” he said, furrowing his brow. She sighed. “Where are we this time?”

“Coruscant. How did you show up here?”

“I don’t know.”

“There’s a lot we don’t know about this bond.”

“Except that Snoke didn’t create it.”

“No, he didn’t,” Ben said, running his hand through his hair. “Do you mind if I sit?” he asked, gesturing to the other side of the bed. 

Rey nodded and gestured at the empty space.

Ben sat down. 

Neither said anything for several minutes. It was too quiet in this room, quite unlike the Falcon, which was always humming, or the Resistance base, filled with people crammed in too small a space. 

“What are you doing on Coruscant?” Rey finally asked, when the silence seemed unbearable, heavy and oppressive. 

“Research,” Ben answered. “I was hoping to find out more about this.” He gestured between the two of them. 

“I thought the Emperor destroyed the Jedi archives.”

“He did,” Ben said, his eyes downcast. Sadness and loneliness permeated his Force presence, as usual. 

You’re not alone.

Neither are you.

“I’m sorry,” Rey whispered. She reached for his hand and squeezed it. 

“Me too,” Ben said. “I have access to his archives, but it mostly contains information about the Sith.”

“That’s not surprising.”

She felt a flash of pain, anger, and frustration from him.

“No, you’re right,” he said, bitterness leeching his timbre from every word. “I’ve been searching for answers to things my entire life. Why should this be any different?”

He got up from the bed and turned his back to her. His shoulders were tense as he ran his hands through his hair again and again. 

“I am sorry, Ben,” she said. “I want answers, too.” 

“I know you do,” he said, returning to sit down next to her again. 

Silence settled between them once more. 

“Ben, when I said I was sorry--” Rey started, but he shook his head. 

“I knew what you meant.”

I’m sorry I threw that lightsaber at you. 

I’m sorry I broke off our kiss. 

I’m sorry we’re not actually together. 

He held her hand before she faded away into darkness. 

…

Rose solidly trounced Rey in a round of Dejarik the next day. Even Chewie roared his approval. 

<You did well, young cub,> he told her. To Rey, he added, <Grimtaash was always Ben’s favorite piece, too.>

Rey looked up from the board, startled at his words. 

“Chewie, tell Rey she needs to talk to the General,” Rose said. 

<Rose is right,> Chewie said. <Leia should know there is still hope for Ben to return.>

“I’ll talk to her,” Rey said, nodding at both her friends. “I promise.” 

They left the Dejarik table and cleaned up from lunch before returning to their chores. Rey moved slowly, her heart and mind somewhere else, far across the stars. 

What was he doing? Did he regret his decision to stay with the First Order yet? 

Rose tried to engage her in conversation throughout the day, but Rey’s answers were monosyllabic, muddled by the fog in her mind and the sounds of repairs. 

After a nearly silent dinner, Rose pressed Rey’s hand. 

“Sleep well,” she said, concern evident on her face, before retiring to her own quarters.

Rey fell asleep shortly after turning in, her mind exhausted though her body was not. 

…

Was she dreaming? Was she awake? Did it matter?

It was happening again, and she let it happen. 

It felt so good to find his arms around her, his hands gentle as they caressed her skin.

No one had ever touched her like that before. She wanted it-- and she wanted him. She gave in to her deepest desires, though she knew she should not. 

They were no longer alone. She felt alive when she was with him, her body on fire, attuned to his touch and to his body. 

So she allowed it to happen, embraced it as she embraced him. 

It was finally Rey running her hands through Ben’s thick, dark waves of hair as she had longed to do, rather than him pulling it in frustration at the answers that still eluded him. 

She pulled his head back to kiss. He arched his back and leaned into her.

He moaned into her mouth when she grinded on his length. 

“Take your shirt off,” she ordered, and he obeyed. 

She begrudgingly removed her hands from his hair to stroke down the broad planes of his chest. She could feel his heartbeat increase, his breathing grow ragged. 

She reached his waistband and paused. 

“May I?” she asked quietly. He inhaled, and then breathed out “Yes.”

She undid his pants, pulling them down and over his length, then tossed them to the floor. 

He scooped her up in his arms and kissed her again before she could do anything else. “Rey,” he said, his eyes dark with desire and love. 

She cupped his cheek and opened herself up to him in the Force. His presence was soothing, a sharp contrast to their increased heart rate as they explored each other’s bodies. 

“Ben,” she said, kissing him in return, savoring the physical and emotional sensations.

She ran her hands down his back the way she had his chest. She kneaded some of the tension out of his muscles, savoring his sighs and the way his body felt as he relaxed. 

He gently removed her tunic and breast band, dropping them to the floor with his clothing. He caressed her body the way she had his, before taking one of her breasts into his mouth, before returning his attention to the other. Rey arched into him, sighing with pleasure. 

Her core felt warm and wet, and she was desperate for friction, for the release she knew he would give her. 

She reached for his cock, stroking him lightly at first, and then more firmly. 

You’re so beautiful, so good to me, Rey, came across her mind. 

I want you, she answered. 

He kissed her. 

Please, Ben. 

Not quite yet, he said, placing her softly onto his pillows, then bending down to pleasure her with his mouth. 

She moaned as he circled her clit and delved into her with his tongue. She grabbed at his hair, desperate for more. 

He added a finger, and she howled, not caring if anyone could hear. He went faster and faster until she came, seeing stars. 

“Ben,” she moaned, placing her hands on his as he guided himself into her. 

She was full, so full; he was big, but her body adapted as she breathed, holding him to her. 

He pulled her up into his arms, allowing them to adjust. 

They moved together, bodies and minds as one, until they climaxed, sending a reverberation through the Force. 

Rey fell asleep in Ben’s arms, and woke up in her own bed on the Falcon once more. She felt soft and sated, and a little sore, but her sleep had been peaceful. 

She hoped that Ben was feeling the same. 

She rolled over and groaned; her chrono showed she was late for breakfast with Rose. 

They had so much to discuss, and Rey knew what Rose would say. 

Rey prepared herself to finally make her confession. 

…

“I’ll come with you,” Rose said, and Rey nodded. “Thank you,” she replied. 

Sitting in Leia’s office, Rey held Rose’s hand as tightly as she dared, fearful of hurting her. 

“Rose convinced me to come see you,” she told Leia. “Chewie helped, too. There’s something we need to discuss.”

Leia nodded. “What happened between you and my son.”

Rey and Rose’s eyes widened. “You know?” Rey asked. 

“I noticed the scar on your arm on Crait. And something had to happen to shatter my father’s lightsaber. I’ve also felt some interesting things in the Force; you two are not subtle.”

Rey was surprised, but Leia smiled, as if reassuring Rey that she would keep what she felt between them. 

Rey nodded and continued the conversation, wanting to explain further and not neglect Rose’s participation.

“He killed Snoke to save me. But then he didn’t want to leave with me. And we see each other in visions, or dreams, except that we’re really there. We can touch each other, interact with our surroundings.” 

“Luke and I both had visions, but never something like this,” Leia said, taking a sip of her tea. 

Rey nodded. “We didn’t know what it was at first either. Ben went to Coruscant to try to research it.”

“Do you want these visions to end?”

Rey took a deep breath. “No.” 

“You think that you can still bring him home because of this?”

Leia’s eyes and voice were kind, as always. Just like Rose. 

Rey sighed. “I love him. I want to help him. I just don’t know how.”

Leia put her teacup down, then reached across the desk for Rey’s unheld hand. 

“I love him too, and I don’t know how either. Ben has to save himself. Neither of us can do it for him.”

…

Rose hugged Rey after their meeting with Leia. 

The two women sat outside the Resistance base, watching the sunset. 

“Thank you for encouraging me to talk to Leia,” Rey said. 

“That’s what friends are for,” Rose replied.

[langwrites]

Merc Work

I have no excuse for this other than needing a break from my NaNoWriMo break from Kei.

Be warned: It has no ending.

--------------------------------------

On a half-decent day, Kei would wake up with the dawn in a world without alarm clocks. If the day was especially good, she’d do so in her own fucking bed and not be on a ridiculous solo mission that’d gotten blown so thoroughly off track that she couldn’t see the proper path with the Hubble telescope. Waking up in an unfamiliar continent was already a sign of a bad time, and then the power of an unfeeling cosmic gearbox threw in the unasked-for bonus of pervasive xenophobia while surrounded by European fantasy analogues. Especially while being trailed by three Academy students on what should have been a harmless trip to visit the graves of their family. 

The straw that broke the camel’s back was the comparatively minor setback of Kei being on third watch. Sleep was for people who didn’t have a demonic turtle sitting in their lap. And who weren’t “new meat” by local standards.

So, between having to join up with a mercenary band to avoid dealing with racist jackasses through the power of numbers and swords, the apparent tech levels not supporting indoor plumbing, the safety of her students, and sitting in the cold for two hours before sunrise… Well, Kei could be forgiven for feeling a bit crabby.

Ha.

You hush. 

Never.

Kei considered the complete inability to actually keep Isobu from intruding on any conversation he liked, then sighed. There was such a thing as a hopeless fight, even for her. 

Isobu folded his armored forelegs under his belly. Had you not been transported here alongside the children, would you have joined this mercenary band to begin with?

Kei made an “I dunno” noise without opening her mouth. I mean, the sheer isolation would be an absolute nightmare. I know my limits a bit better now. 

The spiritual wreckage of her left arm attested to that issue. 

Isobu looked down, over the edge of Kei’s lap and toward the forest around Remire Village. They were probably about ten meters into the crown of the oak tree Kei chose as her lookout post for the last week, with only minor modifications to the branches. The only real change between this night and others involved Isobu being a lookout alongside her, rather than haunting the nearby river and stealing fish for his own amusement. 

And for feeding the kids, but that hadn’t happened since they’d joined the Jeralt mercenaries last month. 

Even if Kei didn’t trust rowdy men and women to look after a bunch of kids with special powers, she did trust Isobu to keep track of them. If the mercenaries got into a skirmish with bandits or anyone else, Kei ordered Kaito, Aiko, and Roku to hide with their spiky guardian as their sole point of contact with the group. When the situation was safe, Kei would call for them. If it wasn’t… well, that wasn’t going to happen. Kei had seen the local idea of what “power” meant and was left unimpressed. 

Nothing could get past me if it tried.

There’s a sentiment I can get behind. She’d survived worse than angry knights chasing her with spears.

The only one Kei wasn’t entirely sure of was the mercenaries’ second fiddle. The Ashen Demon, sole child of the Blade Breaker, went by Byleth Eisner (or just Byleth) to everyone else. They were half their father’s bulk and didn’t resemble him much in either coloring or general features. The lack of visible emotion on their face left most people around here fairly unnerved, but Kei found it was actually something of an advantage upon joining the mercenaries. Because people like Jeralt were already used to Byleth’s culturally-remarkable flat affect, they had an easier time giving some slack to Kei’s preferred mask of complete professional stoicism. 

The kids didn’t bother hiding their feelings about the whole thing—they latched onto Byleth insofar as they did anyone, perhaps because they were the smallest adult available who wasn’t Kei. 

But Byleth also had a job, and that job included enough of Kei’s personal stabbing quota to disqualify them from combat babysitting duties. 

Though she’d asked once about it anyway.

Byleth’s microexpressions were difficult to read. She left the conversation with the impression they were more confused by Kei’s willingness to approach them than insulted by the presumption, and thus joined Kei and her ducklings at dinner on occasion like they had a standing invitation. 

They basically did. Kei wouldn’t shoo away people who liked her cooking, and Byleth didn’t get loudly drunk all damn night. 

Don’t worry, though. You’re still the indisputed babysitting champion of the battlefield.

Pah. Isobu swatted Kei’s hand with one of his tails. 

Rowdy for a clone, aren’t you?

Insulting for a host, are you not? Isobu reversed it, because of course he did. And it is not as though this clone could be destroyed by anything less than your brute strength.

Fair.

Normally, Kei could have continued this line of thought for some time. Bantering with Isobu was a peaceful way to pass a watch shift. He had good night vision. She had the ability to interact with the world as a human being. These things were very complimentary. 

And Isobu used his sensitive eye, adapted for exploring the sea, to spot the problem before Kei heard it. Smoke at night was difficult to see without decent moonlight, at least for humans. Isobu poked at her brain to draw her attention to it. Likewise, the orange flicker of distant flames was just barely visible in Kei’s periphery if Kei angled her vision, like she would if observing the stars. 

That is going to be our problem in short order.

Isn’t it always? Kei replied, leaning as far sideways as she can to see through the modified canopy. Any farther and gravity would be held at bay only by chakra usage. Time to get up.

Indeed. And that was when Isobu opened his mouth to roar.

It was a tiny noise, relative to his true form’s size, but the sleepy village below them started to stir. The mercenaries were used to the sound of Isobu’s dying rabbit screams by now. 

And down.

Kei shoved Isobu off her lap, sending his spiky ass tumbling out of the tree to land among the three kids piled up in their camping bags. Kaito stirred first, patting sleepily at Isobu’s ridged belly before sitting up. This dislodged Roku and Aiko in order, just in time for Kei to land about a meter away with her finger in front of her face in a clear shh gesture. 

None of her three charges moved a muscle. 

“All three of you need to hide,” Kei told them, in the language no one around here spoke. 

One by one, she hugged each of them tightly enough to convey the seriousness of her request. Three pairs of cautious eyes met hers, in turn, and then they scrambled to hide their possessions under thickets in the village’s outskirts. No bandits could know there might be someone here to chase. 

After about a minute, she picked up Isobu’s little clone and placed him in Kaito’s shaky arms.

The kids knew she’d come back. The mercenaries had fought in five skirmishes since they joined like glorified camp followers, and not one of those battles featured a single opponent Kei couldn’t destroy with her eyes closed. 

But this was their comfort zone. Each time Kei left them, like a mother wolf leaving her den, she stripped that security like a worn bandage. 

Even only after a month of immersion, the kids picked up the local tongue fairly fast. They were young and adaptable and Kei was the only human adult around who spoke Japanese to them. Until they heard it again, from either her or Isobu, they’d stay out of sight. The waiting, though, never really got any easier. 

“They’ll never find us,” Roku said, tugging gently at Aiko and Kaito’s wrists. The oldest, at barely eleven, and already forcing himself to be the most responsible. 

“Bye, Sensei,” Aiko said reluctantly, before Roku curled his arm entirely around her to keep her from running off. 

“Stay safe,” Kei told her. She looked directly to Kaito and added, “Be good for Isobu-chan.” 

Kaito didn’t say anything at all, instead just fixing Kei with a stare like he’d forget what she looked like if he didn’t. This lasted until Isobu ordered Roku to get all three kids away from there, and he did. 

All three of them disappeared into the forest. They knew how to climb trees like bear cubs—or shinobi—which would have to be enough. And if a single enemy got near them, Kei would probably need to cut a grown man in half. Perhaps several.

Byleth would help.

I’ll let you know when it’s safe to be out here again, Kei thought to Isobu. 

You should know that I was not designed for an arboreal existence. I have many prehensile tails, but I am not a squirrel.

But you’re so cute!

Flattery will get you nowhere. With that sassy rejoinder, Isobu did the equivalent of flicking Kei in the forehead.

Kei headed to the village’s front gate, cutting directly through the forest with the ease of someone who’d been in and around the wilderness her entire life. She could hear another group crashing through the woods at high speed, relative to normal human averages, and a larger group likely in pursuit. 

Well, that wouldn’t do. 

Hidden Mist. Though the hand seal for this technique was more of a stance, she could still put her detection trick in action. She just had to make sure it was concentrated on the pursuers, not the pursued. Deliberately leaving voids was useless for her strategies, but it probably kept people from breaking their necks unnecessarily.

And it let her know that the slower, louder group was thirty strong.

She kept going until she reached the village’s gates, spotting a mercenary named Arkady on duty. Backlit by torches, his five earrings caught the light and gave him away. 

“Back from the camping trip already?” Arkady asked, a note of alarm creeping into his voice. “Where are the kids?”

“Safe,” Kei told him. She slid into place on the opposite side of the gate, hand on the borrowed steel shortsword that’d carried her for the last month. Her katana was not to be wasted on bandits around here. Or in sparring. “But hidden. Someone is heading this way.” 

Arkady paused, eyed the forest, and then nodded. “I’ll wake the captain and his kid. Stay here.”

Kei let him go and drummed her fingers against her sword’s hilt, waiting. The crashing was getting closer, and her kids were fifty meters away in a tree. Even while dead certain Isobu was with them, her nerves refused to settle.

Strictly speaking, she didn’t need to keep herself and her team so far away from the mercenaries. They were a rowdy crew, but they were only of the rough-and-tumble sort. They expressed affection by going out drinking and slapping each other on the back and fighting shoulder-to-shoulder through wind and rain. Since Byleth had been with Jeralt since before he founded the company, presumably the various members would be at least peripherally trustworthy with children.

Kei, as a nineteen-year-old with dependents who had one half-cracked voice between them, only trusted the company on the battlefield. 

Arkady returned without Byleth or Jeralt, but he did have Marcel. The two of them were like a pair of piratical brunet bookends and cracked jokes anytime they weren’t on the job. It made her students edgy around them, but they were well-liked within the boisterous mercenary crew. Like many soldiers of fortune, they wore a fair amount of jewelry to emphasize their success, which was some of the best advertising around. So was the mess of scars, though only Marcel was missing a chunk of his nose. 

“What’s the matter?” Marcel asked, right before the group Kei’d been hearing for the last sixty-odd meters finally crashed out of the woods at nearly the same volume it started.

Three muddied, twig-strewn teenagers stumble up to the pool of torchlight, panting. 

Kei pointed at them, because it was faster than bothering to explain herself.

One white-haired girl and a dark-haired boy, at complete opposite ends of the “has this person seen the sun in the last decade” skin tone spectrum, while the tallest is the blond boy in the middle. If not for the torches, Kei wouldn’t even be able to call them “kids” in any meaningful sense, but she did know what school uniforms look like. Kei wandered out of her education as a baby adult, by one reckoning or another. Both of them. She hadn’t been able to look up information on the internet for unfortunately obvious reasons, but in a world where bespoke tailoring is a norm rather than a luxury and damn near nobody wore customized clothing unless they were rich, Kei’s intuition was subsumed by screeching alarm bells. 

Third watch on a morning  when they were supposed to be marching north into the Holy Kingdom of Faerghus and now this. Kei’s private list of complaints kept getting longer.

“Scarface,” said Marcel, while the kids caught their breath, “why don’t you back up?”

Kei did so, because these kids were likely to react to Kei’s not-Caucasian features with the traditional xenophobia displayed by basically every non-mercenary person from Fódlan so far. If she had to deal with weapons swinging at her face before the sun came up, they’d better be attacks from people she already wanted dead. She didn’t have the patience this early in the morning.

The motion caught the eye of the boy with the yellow shoulder-cape, but little else about Kei was too distinct once she was out of direct torchlight.

Well, mostly. 

Sort of.

She was wearing a haori, her armguards, and the local pants-and-boots combination because her sandals could be saved for special occasions. Instead of covering her face with a mask or even wearing her headband as intended, she tied it around her neck like an ascot. There was only so much point in pretending to be anything but foreign. Between her accent and facial features that she was not going to burn chakra trying to hide, it was something Kei kept in perspective. 

And the yellow-themed kid was still looking at her.

“Kid, eyes over here,” Arkady demanded.

Kei silently cheered at even a token attempt to direct attention away from her.

At this point, Jeralt and Byleth arrived. 

Jeralt was a huge, dull-orange mountain of a man with dirty blond hair and a braid and undercut combination Kei didn’t think would ever catch on. His scarred face told even more of a story than Kei’s did, and no one was quite sure how many battles he’d rushed into and out of alive.  Nor were they sure how old he was. More than anyone else in the company, Jeralt was a cavalry commander down to his metal greaves and could be trusted to lead the group to victory come hell or high water. 

Competing for second place was his shadow. Byleth, the quietest person in the company and therefore the one Kei’s students tolerated best besides the horses, was about Kei’s age. They were also one of the few adults shorter than Kei was. Their eyes were a distinct deep blue and their hair a dark teal, which almost blended in with the charcoal-gray clothes they preferred this late at night, punctuated by matte black armor along their arms and legs. The ghostly complexion stood out like the fucking moon by comparison. 

The two of them commanded all the attention better than a weird foreigner did. 

“Please forgive our intrusion,” said the blond one, bowing with his hand over his heart. Kei’s brain tried to calculate angles to assess formality before remembering that cultures were weird and American accents were weirder. He went on, “We wouldn’t bother you were the situation not dire.”

Jeralt visibly took note of the formality, then said, “What do a bunch of kids like you want at this hour?”

“We’re being pursued by a group of bandits.” Oh for fuck’s sake. While the blond noble kept talking—and he was a noble, because Kei had much more experience with the blunter speech patterns commoners used. Couldn’t be anything else. “I can only hope that you will be so kind as to lend your support.” 

“Bandits? Here?” Jeralt’s gaze flicked to Kei.

She nodded, because it was as good a designation for the enemy still shouting their way through the forest as any. Bandits had been trying to kill Kei since she was Aiko’s age. This wasn’t new.

Jeralt didn’t give the order to attack them just yet. Instead, he turned his attention back to the kids as they started talking. 

The white-haired girl said, “It's true. They attacked us while we were at rest in our camp.”

Not a great sign. Why had three noble children been exposed like that? In Kei’s experience, nobility tended to spend a lot more time cloistered inside protective structures, and even traveling daimyo tended to take a proper procession with them. Where were the guards? People died when they were caught alone. 

Maybe the fire she’d seen was a part of it?

As though to confirm her rising tide of suspicions, the noble boy in yellow said, “We’ve been separated from our companions and we’re outnumbered. They’re after our lives…not to mention our gold.”

Well, then. If they were anything like the bandits Kei ran into during the initial month she’d spent as her students’ sole reliable defense, this wouldn’t take long. 

“I’m impressed you’re staying so calm considering the situation. I… Wait.” Jeralt’s body language went rigid. Like he’d just found an armed opponent in a darkened hallway. “That uniform…”

One of the group’s archers—Rickard—ran up with his bow drawn. He shrugged off Marcel and Arkady’s questions, attention locked on Jeralt so thoroughly that he nearly tripped over Kei on his way to report in. If she’d stuck her foot out, he’d have slammed face-first into the village’s defensive wall. 

“Bandits spotted just outside the village.” Rickard gestured out at the forest. “There are a lot of them.”

Byleth turned their head toward Kei, making an inquisitive gesture with their hand. One of the many, many reasons Kei’s students liked them was because they were willing to pantomime nearly everything if necessary. And while body language didn’t often cross national boundaries, Byleth was willing to learn almost anything Kei put in front of them.

Kei held up three fingers on her right hand—counting her thumb—then brought all five of them together to a single point.

Byleth’s gaze sharpened. 

Jeralt considered Rickard first, then said to the kids, “I guess they followed you all the way here.” He’d caught the gesture conversation with Byleth, and said to his child, “We can’t abandon this village now. Come on, let’s move.” 

Byleth nodded. 

“Hope you’re ready,” Jeralt grunted. “Kid, you take these three into cover and pick off anybody you can reach. Rickard, you’re with Marcel and Arkady. Rally the rest.” Then Jeralt only had Kei left to address. “And you. Your job is skirmisher. Don’t let them get around the village’s defenses.” 

Kei bowed, arms held rigidly at her sides. “As you wish.”

Jeralt waved her off, so Kei decided this was an excellent time to make herself scarce.