#I think during the first bridge they’d actually be walking on the dirt if a graveyard

[krystaldeath]

Me when I have an almost complete animated mv for Set It Off’s Creating Monsters but I’ve never animated anything in my life, much less made an animatic. Hell I haven’t drawn a comic in ages either lmao

[chickensarentcheap]

Okay last one before I catch up some reading :D

A nice little tie in to canon during a convo with Esme and Ovi :)

@tragiclyhip @youflickedtooharddamnit @secretaryunpaid @munstysmind @mrsmungus @muchadoaboutcj @asirensrage @themaradaniels @thesirenrealm 

****

He tries not to think of Dhaka. For years he’d been able to vividly recall the sounds of gunfire and explosions, the smell of gunpowder and lead and the sewer they’d taken refuge in. Every night he would dream of that moment on the bridge; crouching beside Tyler’s side and holding his hand; tears streaming down his face as Tyler told him to run, Ovi in turn begging him to please get up. It’s been almost seven years and it still haunts him; how weak Tyler had been, how vulnerable. The dazed look in his eyes as his life slipped away; strength fading, body and brain beginning to shut down, all hope out getting out Dhaka alive diminishing.

Yet he’d fought back, and for a moment it had seemed as if everything was going to be okay. He’d need urgent medical care and weeks recuperating in the hospital, but at least he was going to survive. And then Farhad had shot him from behind and everything changed. Not just in that moment, but in the days, weeks, months and years that lay ahead.

There hadn’t been many quiet and relaxed moments, but Ovi does remember that conversation in the factory; when she’d actually cared enough to not only see how he was holding up, but to try and keep him calm and lessen the enormity of the situation. When she’d first arrived he’d been surprised when she’d walked through the door; covered in dirt and mud and dried blood. Tyler had told him that someone was meeting up with them; the lone team member that had managed to survive Saju’s onslaught on the boat and in the woods. It would take them a while to get there; they had to head into town -from the extraction point- on foot, waiting until the commotion had settled down and the sun began to set. But he hadn’t expected HER. Barely five feet and a hundred and twenty pounds soaking wet, bringing bottles of water and food she’d managed to steal from shops and curbside vendors along the way.

“This is Esme,” Tyler had said, and Ovi had seen the small smile that had tugged at the corner of the mercenary’s lips and the fondness that had briefly sparkled in his eyes. He hadn’t known the exact story or the connection between them, but there’d been something there. And whatever it was, it had been enough to momentarily soften the edge, and the face, of such a big, strong man. “She’s here to help.”

[cursestothemoon]

Werewolves Of London ( I )

Multiple Part Series

Part I

When Their Eyes Locked 

Word Count: 2016

Fred Weasley x Fem!Werewolf!Reader

Summary: Fred can’t seem to stop himself from staring at you. What happens when your eyes lock? 

Warnings: raunchy banter, description of turning into a werewolf (description of pain and screaming), being in pain, Y/n has a very prominent scar on her face idk if this is a warning (personally i don’t think it is but you can never be too careful😌)

A/N: Alrighttttt chapter one guys, pretty exciting😗. It’s kinda slow, really just introducing characters, background, and existing relationships. AH I HOPE YOU GUYS LIKE ITTTT, also best friend Lily makes a comeback (not Lily Evans)

“Come on! We’re gonna miss it!”

“We’re not gonna miss shit, either it happens here or it happens there.”

“I’d prefer the latter.”

Cedric let out a snort as he looked back at you, his scarf flapping in the wind and nearly hitting him in the face.

The wind was harsh this Saturday evening, overcast and gloomy, as three students were making their way to the Whomping Willow. The trek was meant to be a quiet one, a sneaky departure from the castle, but of course that was never the case. Not when Cedric Diggory seemed to ooze happiness and joy with each step, his smile warming the crisp, cool air around him; not when Lily Mclaggen (older sister of Cormac) had just as much snap as her brother had confidence and especially not when Y/n L/n, a sarcastic lycanthrope, was about seven minutes away from being in the midst of the full moon.

A sickeningly loud cracking started to sound from behind Cedric, making him turn to see you doubled over.

“Lily!”

“Calm down!”

You groaned, “I’m fine, let’s just go.”

Lily hooked her arm around your waist, shoving you toward the Whomping Willow that Cedric had fortunately petrified. You were able to just catch the familiar badger disappear into the hole under the tree. The pain was excruciating, making your knees give way and your body hit the ground as you felt what seemed to be your bones breaking, muscles tearing, skin stretching to accommodate the form of a beastly form. Groans and screams were pulled from your throat as you transformed, your hands scratching at your neck- or any exposed skin really- to somehow try and claw the pain away.

One last blood curdling scream turned into a strangled howl at the bright moon.

The werewolf stood up, shaking off the dirt from the ground, before snapping at whatever was nipping at its tail. A bone-chilling laugh sounded in the dim tunnel before the hyena gestured toward the badger to start making their way to the shrieking shack through the dark tunnel- the werewolf followed, it didn’t like being alone for long.

--

“Let’s go Fred, before Filch catches up.” George huffed out, his chest heaving from the vigorous running his lungs had to endure just moments prior.

His twin stood still, faint breaths passing from his lips the only thing being heard, his honey brown eyes taking in the vastness of the dark navy sky before him.

Fred had always loved the moon.

If he thought about it hard enough, George could still feel the harsh swats to his rear from when their mother found them out in the field behind the Burrow after Fred had insisted on sneaking out to look at the moon.

George groaned, “It’s just the moon, it’ll be there tomorrow, the day after that and I’m willing to bet my left ear that the moon will be there everyday after that.”

“Yeah but,” Fred grumbled, dramatically gesturing toward the sky with his hand. “It’s a full moon tonight, won’t be full tomorrow now will it?”

The attitude was clear in his tone, even more so in his raised eyebrows and pointed look. George conceded with a laugh, muttering out an ‘alright, Freddie’.

A piercing howl ripped through the silence making the brothers jump and look toward where it had come from- somewhere down near Hogsmeade they’d guess.

Fred slowly turned to his brother, speaking just barely above a whisper, “You think it was a werewolf?”

He had the same glint of mischief in his eyes that he’d get when he was younger and itching to tell a scary story.

George only shook his head, “In Hogsmeade?” He questioned. “Surely, you’re daft Freddie, what would a werewolf be doing in Hogsmeade?”

A shrug was his only response, before he added, “Wouldn’t be too surprising now would it? We’ve got a pink toad in Hogwarts.”

---

Your steps were slow and calculated as you made your way to the Great Hall. Cedric had his arm around your shoulder, no doubt trying to subtly check and see if the bandages he wrapped had held up when you changed into fresh clothes, and Lily had a habit of walking one or two steps behind you just after a full moon- you had a habit of stumbling or even losing balance completely during the few days following.

“You’re looking a lot better than last time, walking around and not stuck in the hospital wing.” Lily commented quietly.

Cedric nodded in agreement, “Yeah, it’s rather boring without your company.”

The comment was meant to rile up Lily, which it did beautifully.

“Right git you are, Diggory, you’re the boring one. You prefects, I swear-”

Lily continued on to grumble about all prefects being the same as you three made it through the doors and to your usual seats- the farthest table to the right, near the large window, and in between a few Hufflepuffs and a couple scattered Gryffindors.

Heat seemed to trail up your shoulder and to your face, the feeling of eyes on you had you inwardly wincing. You never felt too confident the morning after a full moon and it was most mornings that you could feel the heated weight of Fred Weasley’s eyes on you. Amazingly enough, you resisted the urge to turn and meet his gaze instead opting for taking a seat on the bench in between Cedric and Lily and placing your head on Lily’s shoulder lethargically.

On the other side of the room, Lee was slowly chewing on his bite of sugary cereal as he studied the eldest twin.

“You know, mate, you could just talk to her.” He offered up, making Fred rapidly blink as he was brought back to reality.

He frowned, “We’ve been in the same house for seven years, if she wanted to talk to me… she would’ve.”

His eyes seemed to naturally shift back to your form. You were half asleep, head resting on your friend’s shoulder as prettyboy Diggory couldn’t seem to wipe the bright smile off his face so early in the morning.

Fred had always noticed you. In your first year you had offered him your seat in potions next to George because it ‘didn’t feel right’ splitting him and George up on the first day of school- or so you had said before you went to sit next to another first year, Lily.

Second year was when he started to really pay attention to the rather heartwarming- or so Angelina had called it- closeness of your relationship with Lily. You were a sickly child, it seemed almost every month you had come down with something. Fred could remember seeing little twelve year old you sitting near the fireplace in the Gryffindor common room, head on Lily’s shoulder just as it was now and your face incredibly pale yet a warm smile still gracing your lips.

It was the third year when Fred started to realize his curious looks and sweaty palms were not something that just happened. He liked you. The quiet remarks you made under your breath and comedically uncontrollable reactions had him swooning. Third year was also the year that the infamous duo of Y/n and Lily had turned into a trio, prettyboy Diggory finding a cozy spot attached to your hip. It seemed everywhere you went, Cedric was there too.

It was during third year Fred learned about jealousy.

“How do you suppose she got her scar?” Lee asked in a hushed voice not wanting to be overheard.

Fred thought back to when he had first seen you with the gash trailing down from the arch of your left eyebrow to the apple of your right cheek, passing over the bridge of your nose. Sure he had seen you roughed up before, mundane bruises and scratches he imagines you received from being clumsy or maybe roughhousing with siblings he didn’t know you had (Merlin knows Fred himself had enough marks from his brothers roughing him up, all in good fun of course). This was different- violent, it seemed- nothing friendly could’ve made such an angry infliction.

“Does it matter?” Fred mumbled rather defensively. “She’s still...angelic.” He muttered with little regard as to what he was actually saying- his attention was stolen by the grimace that darkened your face as you shifted in your seat to reach for a box of chocolatey cereal.

George faked a dramatic gag, “Sods been a right sap for that girl for years now, still hasn't done a single thing.”

“Give him time,” Lee laughed, moving to shove Fred’s arm teasingly. “Fred’ll man up eventually.”

The seemingly lovestruck boy rolled his eyes at the two, “Fuck off, both of you wankers.”

--

The full moon and weekend had come and gone, the bitter taste of the start of a new school week was on everyone’s tongue as they made their way to their last class Monday afternoon.

You trudged into the dimly lit potions room, the brooding figure of Severus Snape doing nothing to lighten the atmosphere.

“Afternoon, Professor.” You quietly greeted as you slid into your seat.

The man seemed to only grumble out a response, not deeming a proper return of greeting worthy of his time- though you preferred this, rather not wanting to strike up a conversation with the potions Professor.

Lily clambered into the seat beside you, her usual seat, just a few seconds before class started. Her hair was frazzled and her tie a tad askew, silently you handed her a compact mirror from your book bag- though the smirk on your lips was loud.

“Don’t look so smug.” She teased, hand combing down her hair. “You’ve seen the thighs on Natasha Ravenforth, was I just supposed to deny myself the pleasure?”

Her tone was filled with incredulity, eyes wide and questioning almost as if she really couldn’t fathom the thought of not snogging the curvy Hufflepuff just before class. You kept silent, though your smile grew as you felt Lily’s eyes trained on you before she huffed and looked toward Professor Snape who was now beginning his lesson.

The class seemed to drone on, a long lecture from the monotone Severus Snape the only thing filling the agenda had the pace of the lesson slowed to an aching crawl. As your ears started to tune out his painful drawl you noticed it. Like an itch you couldn’t scratch or a twitch you just couldn’t shake, you could feel someone’s eyes on you. You turned to meet the person’s gaze, curiosity indeed killed the cat, and you were met with the honey-brown irises of none other than Fred Weasley. He seemed to be looking at you, or just passed you, with his chin resting on his folded forearms. His lack of reaction to you catching him staring led you to believe he was far too zoned out to know what he was doing, that is until he blinked a few times and his eyes snapped up to meet yours.

You didn’t really know him. Fred Weasley seemed to be everywhere and nowhere all at once, he was elusive and loud and if you weren’t careful you’d definitely find yourself falling for his toothy grin or boyish charm.

Your eyes seem to lock and you couldn’t help but furrow your eyebrows at the feeling fluttering deep within your chest at the way his facial expression seemed to soften and his head tilt ever so gently as his eyes swam with what you could only describe as- for lack of better words- wonder.

A nudge to your ribs brought you back to reality, Lily’s elbow still prodding at your torso until you turned to face the front of the class again just as Professor Snape was turning away from the board he had stuck his nose to whilst writing notes.

With one glance at Lily you could see the irritatingly smug smirk stretching across her face, her eyes still looking forward.

“Don’t look so smug.” You grumbled, roughly picking up your quill to take down notes.

tags:

@siriusement

@amourtentiaa

@vsawyer1989​

@lifeofkaze

@theorangedrummer

@erinruby003

@famdomhideout

@an2402lths

@escapingrealitybyreading

@readyg0erge

@maybesandohnos

@therealhouseelvesofhogwarts

@onlyfreds

[stillebesat]

Christmas Eve (4/5)

Sanders Sides: Janus, Patton, Roman, Virgil Pairings: Past Roceit (was toxic), Familial Moceit (Dad Janus, Son Patton) Blurb: Of all the barriers that Janus expected to have to overcome in order to get his son a pet for Christmas, encountering his Ex, Roman, working in the pet store had never once crossed his mind. Fic Type: Christmas!Eve Fic, Past Lovers to Enemies to ??? trope, Dad!Janus, Kid!Patton, Frogmin!Virgil, MythicalMin!AU, Frogmin!AU Overall Fic Warnings: Past Toxic Relationship Talk, Manipulation/Lying Talk, Human-ish Creatures kept as Pets Taglist in Reblog

To Catch Up: Part 1 Part 2 Part 3

Roman regretted the words as soon as they left his lips.

The Dameon he knew could spin the truth like a top. His stories sounding so believable that even now, years later, Roman still had very little idea what he actually knew about his Ex...besides the fact that he was a slimy no good lying viper. If he wanted to get a Frogmin for his kid, then Roman was sure Dameon could point to any cage on the shelf, and despite Roman’s years of experience, convince him that whatever cage he picked would be perfectly adequate to hold the Frogmin. 

Oh Crofters, would the Frogmin they picked out be okay going home with them?! He couldn’t remember Dameon being cruel to animals, but the guy had never shown an interest in them either. Sure, Pattey seemed sweet enough but if Dameon was his actual dad then what if it was all just an act. What if--

Dameon huffed, running his fingers through his curly hair, messing it up in a way that Roman had never seen him do when they’d been together. He straightened, briefly meeting Roman’s eyes as he slipped a hand in his pocket, moving a couple of steps down the aisle to give his kid some space to interact with the Frogmins without them hovering.

Reluctantly Roman followed, his attention split between ensuring Pattey wouldn’t reach into the cage and terrorize the Frogmins...and watching his Ex’s every move.

“You and I both know that I could just point to a random cage and convince you I’d bought it elsewhere, but I hope that the picture I took will be more than enough proof that I have the proper setup?” He asked, pulling out his phone and fiddling with it before holding it out to him.

Well...pictures could be faked….but considering Dameon had obviously not expected to see him here...would he have gone so far as to fake a photo? It was possible. He’d done it before to fake several incidents at college parties they’d gone to...but a cage for a new pet for his son? Who would think to fake that? 

Roman exhaled. No. He’d think himself in circles until well past midnight if he tried to read too far inbetween the lines. It was Christmas Eve. Dameon wanted a Frogmin for his son and Pattey seemed genuinely excited to have one. It had to be the truth. He had to believe that. 

For now.

“If you’ve bought some dinky little hamster cage, Dae, I’m not letting you leave here with any creature until you have a proper setup.” He said, taking the phone from him.

Dameon’s eyes flashed, his mouth quirking up in a half smile as he glanced over to his son who’d somehow managed to cox basically every Frogmin in the cage closer to him. 

Impressive for a child. It must be those soft honey eyes.  

“I did do some research beforehand.” 

“You know can’t trust everything on Google right?” Roman asked as he zoomed in on the image of the kid, Pattey, standing next to a cage as tall as he was. He had to admit. It was a nice setup. Not the most expensive home for a Frogmin he’d seen, but it was a good middling sort of cage. Multilevel, plenty of foliage, there was even a mister visible from the side to keep the place humid. 

“I did ask multiple store employees as well...but I got differing answers.” 

Typical. Ask more than one person and you’d get more than one answer. Still. It looked like Dae had managed to get the proper stuff. “What sort of pond do you have within? A bowl?” People always tried to use cheap tupperware to make a pond for their Frogmins, but it never worked out well in the long run. 

Dameon scoffed, taking his phone back, fidgeting with it as he turned his head away to stare at a nearby cage of little Nagas. “As if. It’s a filtered thing. Not a waterfall, I couldn’t risk the splashing, but it has running water. Fresh. Takes up half of the floor of the cage, the rest is moss and dirt.” 

Huh. Despite his reluctance to give his Ex any credit...he really hadn’t done half bad. Roman crossed his arms. “Hideout?”

Dameon shrugged. “There’s a rock cave on the ground, a wooden one higher up, and Pattey had me grab a moss hammock four stores ago. Just in case.” 

Four? “....And just how many stores have you been to today?” On Christmas Eve. Shouldn’t he be like...going to some big fancy party or something? Or…at least getting ready for Santa’s arrival? 

Dameon grimaced, slipping his phone back in his pocket. “Fifteen.” He admitted, keeping his attention firmly on the cage in front of him. 

Roman whistled. Talk about dedication. “Ouch.” 

“Mmm.” His fingers twitched as he glanced to his son, wearing that half smile of his. “No one else in a hundred and fifty miles has them.” 

Roman’s eyebrows shot up. A hundred and FIFTY miles? Dude. Good news. It meant there was a low chance of him ever having to encounter his Ex again after tonight if he drove this far. But Dude. He drove this far? For his son? The Dameon he knew wouldn’t have gone through half as much effort. He would have convinced someone else to do all the work for him instead and then take the credit. 

“Talk about a Hail Mary then coming all the way out here without calling first.” Especially since his store was closing like...right now. “The Mythical Mins have been quite popular this year. You’re lucky my store had the foresight to quadruple our orders.” 

“I did try calling.” Dameon said, holding out a hand to the Nagamins, a flash of wistfulness crossing his face as he watched the minis leisurely slither about within. “After the first two failures...I called the next--oh, six?” He grimaced. “Those who actually answered assured me that they had them in stock--only for us to find that they’d sold out by the time we showed up. I stopped calling after that point. Just looked up the next pet store and drove.”

Wow. That was--- “I didn’t think you’d ever be so persistent. Especially for some kid.” Wait. Roman blanched. That came out so wrong--

Dameon’s eyes flashed with all too familiar anger as he whirled to him, his hands clenching. “He’s not some kid, Roman, he’s my son. And as cliche as it is...I would move heaven and earth to make him happy.” 

Roman jerked his hands up. “I didn’t mean--” Yeesh. And he was hoping to avoid triggering Dameon’s temper. He just hadn’t expected his Ex to be...that protective. Of course, he just hadn’t ever seemed the type to...settle down either. “That came out wrong.” His words were usually wrong in some fashion when Dameon was present. “Honestly, I’d be more surprised if he wasn’t.” 

Dameon exhaled, rubbing the back of his neck, the anger unexpectedly vanishing as quickly as it had sparked. “The eyes right?” He raised a hand to his own golden ones.

“Well...yah. They’re practically the same.” Unfortunately. Though on the kid it was cute instead of terrifying. 

He dropped his hand. “Yah...well you saw it quicker than I did.” He looked back to Pattey. 

Roman blinked. “Wait. You--”

Dameon huffed, shaking his head. “It took me...a bit...to believe he was mine.” He said in a low voice.

Roman scoffed “You saw his eyes and you didn’t--weren’t you expecting him?! Weren’t you there for his birth?”  Hadn’t Dameon just said he would move heaven and earth for the kid? He would have thought--

His Ex ran his fingers through his hair, messing it up further before he gestured to himself. “Do I look like--No. I--I’d--I’m---” He exhaled, pinching the bridge of his nose. “You know how I was, Ro--I didn’t--” 

Was. Roman raised an eyebrow. He’d never heard Dameon stutter this much since...well, their first meeting. “And you were always so eloquent.” Flowery words, hidden meanings, barbed compliments. He’d lost more sleep to figuring out just what Dameon had actually said to him and what potential meanings his words held during college than he ever had over studying for finals. 

Dameon rolled his eyes. “Shut up.” 

“Make me.”

Those were fighting words, Roman knew. 

Yet his Ex didn’t rise to the bait. He hunched his shoulders, visibly taking a deep breath before relaxing his hands. “I’m not like that anymore. I’ve chan--” He cut off grimacing.

“....You’ve changed.” He’d heard that particular phrase a dozen times in college. Yet this time...it seemed just a tad more...believable. 

 Dameon exhaled, giving a slight shake of his head before meeting his eyes. “I’m trying to be a better person...and even if I wasn’t,” he gestured to his son, “I would much rather walk out of here with a Frogmin than without one for his sake.” 

Wouldn’t any parent? At least the ones who wanted to prevent a meltdown. Roman tilted his head to the boy. “He is a cute kid.” Despite who his Father was. 

“He is.” Daemon said, that fond half smile appearing on his lips again without any sign of the malice Roman was familiar with. “Some days...I wonder how I got so lucky.” 

Yah...karma had obviously gotten mixed signals there. 

Mentally Roman kicked himself. And that was how he’d end up getting the three Christmas ghosts visiting him tonight. Sure. He was still obviously bitter about his Ex. But he knew people could change. Just because he couldn’t picture Dameon being a good Dad, didn’t mean it wasn’t possible. Not when the apparent proof was standing right before him. “Well...it seems like Fatherhood has done you some good.” 

Red tinged Janus’s cheeks as he raised a single eyebrow. “Is it really that hard to believe? That I could be a good dad?”

Had he ever looked back on their college years? The list of why he wouldn’t be a good dad could easily fill three books. 

But. Roman tilted his hand back and forth. “I only ever knew Liar Dae.” He said simply. 

There was still a chance he was still talking to him right now, though from what he’d seen so far he’d like to believe otherwise.  

Dameon grimaced. “Right.” He ran a hand through his hair again. “Right. I--” 

“DADDY!! PRINCEY!!!” Pattey squealed as he rushed towards them, his hands held up high to show them a tiny figure with purple and black spots hanging on to his fingers for dear life. “I GOT MY FROGMIN!”

Roman blinked, mouth dropping open as he recognized the rebelliously reclusive Frogmin who had sworn over a year ago that he would never go home with any human.

“Virgil?” He whispered taking a half step forward as Dameon dropped to his knees in time to catch his son before he could run face first into their legs. 

“He picked me, Daddy!!” He picked me!” Pattey cried, practically vibrating with excitement as Dae quickly brought his hands up to surround his son’s, keeping the little emo Frogmin from being jostled further. 

“That’s great, Pat!” His Ex said as his cool golden eyes gave the Frogmin a once over, his fingers twitching on his son’s hands. 

Roman made a soft sound in the back of his throat as the Frogmin hissed, ducking down out of sight. 

Yah. That was Virgil alright. The hiss was his trademark sound after he’d learned it from Roman’s own Min, Logan. But why would he come out of his dark little corner to--how had Pattey even convinced him?! Roman himself had tried every trick in the book to warm the dark and stormy emo of a Frogmin up to the idea of being owned by a human.

Nothing had worked.

Though Roman couldn’t remember ever offering spiders as a bribe before. Was that honestly all that it would have taken? A different food source? 

“Virgil?” He asked again, biting his lip as his voice elicited another hiss from the Min and the unwelcome attention of his Ex. 

Dameon looked up, eyes flashing. “Is there a problem?” He asked in such a Karen tone that Roman automatically bristled at it. 

“Ye--No? NO!” He said slashing his hand across his chest in denial. 

Dameon huffed, his hands remaining steady on Pattey’s as he half turned to him, giving him the look. “Roman.” 

Roman glowered at his name, baring his teeth in what could barely be called a smile. “I said, NO, Dameon.” He said working to keep his tone even and obviously failing by how his eyes sharpened. “It’s just that Virgil’s never wanted to go home with anyone before. I’m--” Worried. Surprised. Concerned. Curious. The list could go on forever. He knew Virge after all. And there had been plenty of kids just like Pattey -besides the golden eyes- who’d wanted Frogmins before and Vee had never shown himself to them.

A variety of emotions flashed across Dameon’s face too fast for him to process as his Ex tilted his head, staring at him in such a way that Roman was sure he was analyzing every word he used and movement he’d made. “Worried he won’t be a good fit?” He asked, his tone more mild than Roman had been expecting as he dropped his hands from his son’s, though he could hear a hint of bitterness to it.

He’d be lying if he said the thought hadn’t crossed his mind. But--- Roman exhaled, rubbing the back of his neck as he held out his other hand, tilting it back and forth. “Honestly...Virgil probably likes me about as much as I like you.” He said, watching as Dameon winced.  

“And that means...?”

What else did Dae expect him to say? Their relationship had been toxic. Before ten minutes ago, Roman would have said that all he felt for Dameon was utmost hatred.

Now though? 

It was...it was all so muddled. He was seeing a side of Dae that he’d never seen before. He didn’t know what to think. “Soo--” 

“It means we’ll be besties!!” Patton cried, honey eyes positively lighting up as he bounced in place, eliciting another hiss from the Frogmin. “I’ll be the Prince and Virgil will be the Dragon Witch and together we’ll defeat the evil Aaraog and we’ll all live happily ever after! Right Prince Roman?” Pattey beamed at him, holding his hands out, fingers uncurling so that he could see Virgil. 

The Frogmin growled, dark hair falling in front of his mismatched eyes before he adjusted his legs, jumping to the boy’s shoulder.

Pattey let out a giggle, scrunching up his shoulders. “Vee, that tickles!!”  

Roman let out a breath as Virgil ducked down into the collar of the boy’s jacket. A Happy ending huh? “...Right….That.”

Daemon’s own smile was rather brittle as he stood, ruffling his son’s hair. “Soo…” He said echoing Roman’s tone of voice as he looked up, eyes for once not looking cold and calculating, but...resigned? “It looks like Virgil here wants to come home with my son.” He said, gesturing to the Frogmin peering out from Pattey’s jacket. “Is there paperwork or something I need to fill out for him or--?” 

Right. No need to drag out this conversation any longer now the kid had chosen his new pet. “Yes. You’ll need to fill out forms and Virgil--” He cut off as the Frogmin hissed giving him the middle finger. He tsked. Now that wasn’t appropriate for a child to see.  “Virgil.”  

The Frogmin shook his head, spots slightly glowing as he glowered at him. “No Box, Princey.” He said, with a slight echo to his voice. 

Princey? Roman pursed his lips together. Of course the Emo Nightmare chose to finally speak to him now that he was leaving the store. Typical. A true Christmas Miracle. Logan would be so proud to hear that the little EmoFrogmare had finally broken his silence to Roman. 

Pattey reached up, cupping his hand protectively around the Frogmin as he gave Roman the saddest puppy dog look he’d seen this holiday season with the watery eyes, trembling lip and everything. “Vee can stay with me right? I’ll keep him warm.” 

Yes, but-- “You know that’s not our policy, Vir--” He exhaled, pinching the bridge of his nose as Virgil let out an even longer hiss sounding like an agitated rattlesnake. “Fine. Fine. But if you fall and break your leg it’s not my fault.” 

Dameon coughed into his hand, doing a poor job of hiding his smile as Virgil flashed him a thumbs up, curling up against Pattey’s neck as the boy gasped, eyes going wide. 

“No! No breaking! He’ll stay Safe!! Virgil is MY PROTECTOR!! He’s eating the spiders!” He said, shaking his head hard enough that the Frogmin would have fallen if the kid’s hand hadn’t been right there for him to cling to with his little sticky fingers. “Promise!” 

And this was the boy EmoFrogmare wanted to go home with? Roman didn’t understand at all. He raised an eyebrow as Vee settled once more on Pattey’s shoulder. “That’s good. Just be careful alright?”  

Virgil hissed in response, baring his teeth at them.

“He really doesn’t like you does he?” Daemon commented in a low voice.

Roman rolled his eyes, gesturing for his Ex to follow him to the checkout counter so he could grab the proper forms. “Nope.” He said, popping the P. It was kinda irritating too. He could charm all the other Mins in the store and get them more comfortable and out of their shells before going to their new homes, but Virgil had never warmed up to him. 

Dameon gave him a crooked smile. “I’m sorry.”

Roman stiffened at the unexpected third apology falling easily from the snake’s lips. How could he say it now for something that wasn’t even his fault when he couldn’t even apologize for--for...everything that had happened between them back in college? 

He shook his head, waving it away. “Don’t be--well you can be once you pay for him.” He said, jabbing a finger in his Ex’s direction before pulling out the forms and a pen. “Then his bad behavior is on you, not me.”

To Be Continued.  Part 5

[fandom-imagines-stories]

Along for the Ride

Dean Winchester x Reader

Words: 3007

Summary: When you first started hunting with Dean Winchester, you hadn’t expected it to last this long. Together, you face all kinds of ghouls and basically become the ultimate badass couple. But when you start to think you’re just another fling for him, he has no trouble correcting you. 

Notes: This is meant to be a fluffier Dean piece, but you know me, I have to have a bit of angst. I am trying to break up Dean’s darker imagines with fluff, so be prepared for Friday. 

Special shout out to my amazing beta reader Sarah, @suckmysupernatural​ . I love her so much and honestly, she’s helped me so much in getting these imagines out for you and she has some absolutely killer writing of her own!

Want more Supernatural? Find it HERE

-

You swung your knife hard into the blood-sucker’s neck, his head rolling across the warehouse floor. You turned to see Dean saw off another one himself, blood covering both of your clothes. 

“That’s the last of them.” He groaned, lifting up his shirt to examine the bruises and cuts. “That son of a bitch really put up a fight.” You wiped your stained blade off on your jeans and opened the warehouse door, basking in the autumn sun.  Dean shook the dust and dirt off of his jacket and wrapped his arm around you as you both walked to the Impala. 

“I think this calls for a beer,” you noted and he nodded in agreement. The two of you just took out an entire nest of vamps, a little celebration was deserved. And after a few bottles of beer, Dean texted Sam and told him that you would be a while and the two of you had an entirely different kind of celebration back at the motel. 

-

The two of you laid together in a comforting silence, your arms wrapped around Dean as he stared up at the ceiling. This was pretty routine for your relationship. You had each other’s backs during a hunt and you were there to help each other unwind afterwards. Poor Sam usually just went and got something to eat by himself. You wrapped your arms around Dean a little tighter, that part of you close to your heart wishing that this was more than it was. But you could never tell Dean that you loved him. That wasn’t part of the deal. 

“What’s on your mind?” Dean asked, feeling your shoulders tense. 

“Pie.” You lied, laughing as he leaned over you, chuckling deeply in your ear. His green eyes- god, those eyes- stared at you intensely. 

“I’m serious. What’s up?” 

“Nothing, Dean.” You were usually a great liar. It was a skill that was required in your particular profession. When it came to Dean, however, you were totally transparent. You decided to change the subject to hopefully get him off your case. “Do you want some coffee? I’m dying for some caffeine.” You slid into your jeans and stole his flannel before he could grab it. 

“That’s my shirt.” He huffed, finding his pants. 

“I like you better like this.” You grinned, tracing a hand over his bare chest. “Besides, I look better in it.” Dean pulled you in for a rough kiss, nearly falling back on to the bed. You laughed as you pushed away. “Easy, tiger. We should go meet up with Sam. He’s probably been sitting in a diner somewhere all alone.” 

“Yeah, yeah, poor Sammy.” You ruffled Dean’s hair and grabbed his keys with a devilish grin.

“First one to the car gets to drive.” 

“Oh hell no.” Dean practically lunged at you and you squealed as you jumped out of the way, sprinting out the door. 

-

“I would ask what took you two so long, but I really don’t want to know.” Sam took note of your change in clothes and put the pieces together. He had been typing away on his laptop looking for a possible new case for the past couple of hours. Luckily, most of the patrons of the diner just thought he was writing a horror novel. 

“Find anything good?” Dean asked, motioning to the waitress for two cups of coffee. You couldn’t help but notice the way she leaned over the counter just so, flipping her hair over her shoulder. 

“Did you want any sugar, sugar?” You rolled your eyes, but Dean, being Dean, smiled at her. 

“No thanks.” She winked and strut off, her hips swaying more than you thought was humanly possible. Your eyes fell to the counter. Sam, having noticed your reaction to the encounter, started to list possible cases to distract you. He knew that Dean wouldn’t do anything to hurt you. But he also knew that Dean didn’t always realize when his harmless flirting wasn’t harmless anymore. 

“There’s a group of campers that disappeared in the Rockies, all that was left in their camp was a couple of demonic symbols carved into the trees.” 

“Sounds a little more like a prank than our kind of thing.” You noted, looking at the screen over his shoulder. “What about this one?” You pointed to a possible poltergeist case in Tulsa. “Four women over the last ten years, each found in their locked apartments with the words “Not Enough” carved into their chests.” The three of you collectively grimaced. 

“Hell hath no fury.” You muttered and the boys voiced their agreement. 

Sam was driving, so you flipped a coin to figure out who got shot-gun. A string of curses came from Dean as he climbed into the back seat. You smirked with victory and blew him a sarcastic kiss. 

“Real cute.” He barked and you and Sam shared a laugh. You started to scour records from the town to see if you could find any strange or violent deaths. One in particular fit the bill. You motioned for Dean to look and his fingers grazed your shoulder as he pulled himself forward. 

“Look at this. Martha Greenburg; 25. Ten years ago, she threw herself off of a bridge and wrote in her suicide note that she wasn’t enough for him. The police concluded that she was talking about her fiance, Haris, who broke her heart the previous day.” 

“Not enough.” Dean repeated, grabbing your phone to get a better look at the story. Your eyes lingered on him with a sad expression. Something about the words hit you harder than you would admit. You didn’t see Sam’s eyes dart over towards you, a deep frown appearing on his face. Dean returned your phone. “So, heart broken Martha kills herself and now she wants other women to feel the pain she felt?”

“That makes some kind of sick, sad sense.” You sighed, resigning to looking out your window for the rest of the trip. 

When you got to another motel, Sam suggested that Dean go in and get a room while the two of you bounced some more theories back and forth. As soon as Dean was gone, Sam turned to you with a serious, empathetic expression. 

“Is everything okay, Y/N?” His hand found yours in that classic Comfort Mode Sam way. 

“Of course.” You faked a laugh, but it didn’t work. “Look, I’ve just had a few stupid ideas running through my head lately, but I’m sure they’ll pass.”

“What ideas?”

“Seriously Sam, it’s nothing.”

“Seriously Y/N, it clearly isn’t.” You accepted defeat and took a deep breath. 

“I’ve just started to wish that it all meant more, you know? To him.”

“Did something happen between you and Dean?” Sam actually looked ready to smack his big brother upside the head. 

“No, no, not exactly. I forgot what we were, that’s all.” You watched Dean come back out of the motel with a heavy heart and a sad smile. “But hey, I’m just happy I get to be along for the ride.” 

Dean got back to the car before Sam could respond. He just looked at you with a sympathetic sadness that made you feel even worse. You should have just kept your mouth shut. You rolled down your window so Dean could talk.

“You two ready to change and head to the coroner’s office?” He noticed the change of tone in the car and scoffed. “Man, you two make ghouls look excited. Let’s go.” You gave Sam a pleading glance before grabbing your bag from the back and going in to change into your pantsuit. Sam and Dean found their bags and Sam punched Dean’s shoulder.

“What did you say to her?” He asked angrily. 

“What are you talking about?” Dean snapped back, rubbing the now sore spot. 

“To Y/N? What did you do?”

“Sammy,” Dean’s mouth formed a suggestive smirk. “I think we all know what Y/N and I did.”

“God, Dean that’s not what I meant.” Sam shook his head and slammed the trunk shut. 

-

There was an odd tension between the three of you as you left the coroner’s office. Every bodies’ insides were basically mush, as if they’d hit a wall at 100 miles per hour. A strange burn marked their hands. Their lungs were also filled with water. Oh, and sure enough, every single one had the words ‘Not Enough’ deeply carved across their chest. Every woman was engaged, and from the reports, they were happy. Martha’s distorted jealousy took that from them. It made your skin crawl. 

“Hey,” Dean said suddenly, pulling you to the side. “Are you okay?” You tried to hide all of the turning in your stomach. 

“Are we really going to do this again?” You laughed, but this time, it wasn’t as convincing. “Dean, I’m fine.” His stupid green eyes were doing that thing they did when he was trying to get you to tell him something. So instead, you kissed him very, very convincingly. Sam cleared his throat and you pulled away. 

“Martha was cremated. So salting and burning the bones is out.” He informed, giving you a strange look. Dean composed himself, still a little stunned. “We’re back to square one.” 

You all wracked your brains to figure out what the spirit could be latching onto. You remembered something about the crime scene photos. Something about their hands. 

“I know what it is.” You marched back into the morgue and pulled back the tarp covering the woman’s body. “Look at her left hand.” A band was burned around her finger- where her engagement ring would have been. “All of the women had this burn. What if they all had the same ring?”

“It could be worth looking into.” Sam noted, still giving you that annoyingly concerned stare. You tried to shrug it off. 

“Then what are we waiting for?” You brushed past Dean and rushed out to the impala. 

“This is what I was talking about.” Sam hissed at his brother. “Dean, you need to talk to her. She…” His voice trailed off. You would kill him if you found out that he told Dean what you said. 

“She what?” Dean really sounded worried. If something was wrong, he wanted to know. 

“She thinks she’s just a fling to you, Dean.” He blurted, checking to make sure you were gone. “She said she wished that what you two have meant more.”

“Why would she think that?” Now he sounded hurt. Couldn’t you tell how much you meant to him? Sure, he wasn’t super vocal about his affections, but he always figured you knew.

“I don’t know but she said she’s just happy to be ‘along for the ride’.” Sam sighed, leaving to join Y/N in the car, but Dean stayed back. Along for the ride? What did that even mean? He thought what the two of you had was real, which was not something he was used to, but did you think this was all some prolonged one night stand? With all of his questions, he did know one thing. He loved you- as sappy-romance-movie as that sounded- and he was going to make damn sure that you knew it this time. 

-

Dean did not like this plan. Looking down at the small box in his hand, he shuttered. He really really did not like this plan. You and Sam were waiting in the car in an uncomfortable silence. 

“Did you get it?” Sam asked as Dean climbed into the driver’s seat. He gave his brother a scowl. 

“I don’t like this.” 

“Dean, everything is going to be fine.” You assured him. “I’ll be the bait and once Martha pops in to carve me up, you guys will burn the ring.” 

“Why can’t we just burn it now?” 

“Because if we summon her, we can be sure that we killed her.” You knew that it was dangerous, but it could be your only shot. Sure, you were scared, but you’d never let the boys know that. 

The three of you drove to the spot where this all started; the old bridge that Martha took the dive off of. The bridge had been closed for years, so traffic wasn’t a problem. You got out of the impala, listening to the river flow beneath your feet. You kept a brave face, but Dean could see your nerves. 

“You don’t have to do this.” Dean protested, holding the box in his hand. “We could just torch this thing right now and be done with it.” 

“She only shows up when the ring has a hand, Dean.” You held up your left hand and held out your right for him to give you the box. Instead, he took the ring out himself. 

“You…” He paused, looking for the right words. “You know that I care about you, right?” You stepped back.

“Of course, Dean.” You looked over at Sam, but he was too busy loading the rock salt to notice your frustration. He must have said something. “Look, we don’t have time for this. Let’s just gank the ghost and get out of here.” Dean saw through your toughness, of course, but he didn’t argue. He did, however, lean in for a kiss. It was a different kind of kiss than you usually shared. It wasn’t lusting or rushed. It was slow and sweet and perfect. When he pulled back, he kept his forehead rested against yours. 

“Be careful.” He whispered and slipped the ring onto your finger. Immediately, he was thrown backwards, having to catch himself on the railing to keep from falling over the edge.

“Dean!” You screamed. Martha’s apparition appeared in front of you, her hair wet and matted and her face stained with eternal tears. 

“He’ll never love you.” She croaked, water pouring out of her mouth as she spoke. You braced yourself. There was nothing she could say that you hadn’t already thought of a million times. 

“Let’s dance, bitch.” 

The ring on your hand started to burn and you cried out, trying to take it off. Her hand latched around your throat and dragged you to the side of the bridge, hanging you over the railing. 

“Y/N!” Sam shouted, aiming the salt loaded rifle at Martha. She flicked her wrist and sent the weapon flying into the water. 

“It isn’t real.” She groaned, tightening her grip on your throat. “He doesn’t care. He’d rather roam around with waitresses and bartenders than be shackled down with you.” You tried to block her out, but her words sunk into you. “Because you’re not enough. You will never be enough.” Yout felt a sharp pain scrape across your chest as she started to carve her words into you. Through the pain and your screaming, you were able to tear the ring off of your finger. 

“Dean.” You choked out, tossing the ring to him as Sam started the fire in a trash can that you’d stolen from the motel. Dean threw the ring into the flames before sprinting across the bridge towards you. 

Martha let out a blood curdling scream as her image slowly burned away, her hold on you releasing, sending you tumbling over the edge. Hands latched around your ankle as you swayed over the rushing waters, blood seeping through your t-shirt.

“A little help, Sam!” Dean grunted, your foot slipping slightly in his hand. Sam grabbed your other ankle and the two of them were able to get you back on the bridge. Dean didn’t even let your feet touch the ground before he wrapped his arms around you, holding you as close to him as he could. You winced when his chest pressed against your new wounds. “Oh, crap, sorry.” 

“It’s okay.” You pulled the collar of your shirt down enough to see that Martha had only gotten a few letters before she burned. “Great, now I’m just going to have ‘no’ scarred on my chest.” Dean let out an exasperated laugh, pulling you back to him. 

-

You were packing up your things back at the motel when Dean asked Sam to give him a moment alone with you. You leaned against the hood of the impala, knowing exactly where this conversation was going to go. 

“Do you believe what she said to you?” Okay, maybe you didn’t know where this conversation was going. 

“What are you talking about?”

“Come on, Y/N, we all heard what she was saying.” Dean ran his hand down his face. “She said that I’d rather be off with some waitress than be with you. That you’re not enough for me.” 

“Dean, I’m sure she says that to every-”

“Do you believe her?” He repeated, this time he sounded more upset. When you didn’t answer, his face changed with hurt. “Do you really think that little of me? Of us?”

“I’m in love with you, Dean.” You blurted. “That wasn’t part of the plan, but there it is.” Dean stepped closer to you, cupping your cheek. 

“You aren’t just a fling, Y/N. I love you.” Dean cradled the back of your head in his hand as he pulled you in for a kiss. A slow and sweet and perfect kiss. But it wasn’t enough. Not for him. He had to show you that he meant it. He broke the kiss, those green eyes melting your heart completely. “Let’s get married.” You froze. 

“What?”

“Let’s get married.” His face broke into a nervous grin. “Come on, Y/N, we already fight like a married couple. Sam treats you like a sister. I love you more than any girl I’ve ever known. Let’s do it.” The shock of his words faded just enough for you to respond. 

“Okay.” You said breathlessly. Dean scooped you up in his arms and you laughed. 

“I’m glad you two figured it out.” Sam smiled, throwing the last of the bags in the trunk. Dean gave his brother a beaming grin, setting you back on your feet. 

“Come on, Sammy, we’ve got to get a non-haunted ring this time,” He exclaimed, giving you one more kiss. “We’re going to Vegas.” 

-

General Tag: @rae-gar-targaryen; @takemepedropascal; @childhood-imagination;  @mylovegoesto;

Supernatural: @desimarie12; @deandreamernp​

[reydjarinkenobi]

Scales and Fins

For Day 6 of codywanweek 2020

Link to archive of our own: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25651141

Cody knew that General Kenobi was not quite human.

 Not that that was very surprising or disturbing. Many planets developed quirks that set their inhabitants apart from the rest of the galaxy, and most of them were mainly apparent through dietary requirements.

For General Kenobi, it was water. He needed much more if than the average human. Cody knew this because he overheard General Skywalker reminding the general of this fact very often. Cody, himself, had picked up the former padawan's habit of shoving a bottle of the liquid into his general's hands whenever they were free.

Most of the time, the general would drink it absentmindedly as he worked. If the general knew that supplies were short, he would try and ration it, glancing at it every so often like a spice addict teased with a fix but not allowed to take a hit.

 The one indulgence his general would allow was longer showers than was strictly necessary to get clean. He would always duck his head if Cody would have to wait for him in his room to give a debrief, or blush if his hair was still damp when they met up on the bridge.

 But Cody didn't mind.

 As quirks went, needing extra water and liking showers was pretty manageable. Cody wouldn't begrudge his general such a simple comfort.

 The first time it became an issue was when their transport crashed on a desert planet.

 They'd been coming back from a stealth mission that only involved a part of the Ghost Company when their engines had failed. They'd been forced to land on the closest planet before they blew up. It turned out that some scavengers on the planet they'd done their mission on had stolen irreplaceable parts of their engine.

 They wouldn't be going anywhere in that ship. Not without it exploding.

 "We'll have to ration water, sir," Waxer informed them and Cody felt his gut twist at the confirmation of his fears.

 His general didn't react outwardly but Cody could see his held back dismay in the stiff set of his jaw.

 "If we stick to a strict schedule, we should all be able to last a week," Waxer explained.

 The general nodded. "Good, General Windu said he would be here within the next seven days, so we just need to hunker down and wait."

 As the general walked off to help with the camp set up, Cody and Waxer exchanged a worried glance, foreboding twisting their insides.

 The first day was fine.

 They really didn't have anything to do, since their transport had been to ferry them between the Negotiator and their spot. It was only just big enough for bunks and emergency supplies. They were hesitant to use the power, saving it for communications, especially since both the fuel lines and the cooling systems had been compromised.

 It was too hot to do much of anything, but thankfully, Shotglass always carried a deck of cards on him, so the troopers that got bored of laying around, would huddle together under the shade they'd erected and either participate or watch a game.

 The general spent most of the day completing paperwork he'd convinced Master Windu to send to the ship's datapad, sitting almost motionless against the side of the ship, allowing it shield him from the sun.

 He perhaps looked a little more tired than usual.

 The second day was a different story.

 Everyone was starting to feel the effects of the rationing, the irritability and lethargy not helped by the intense, unrelenting heat, but the General looked especially bad. His lips were chapped and his skin looked dry. It also didn't escape Cody's notice that he'd been trying to move as little as possible.

 Cody sat next to him at around midday when the sun was the highest. The general had been staring blankly at the same screen for some time.

 He silently offered the general his bottle, which was still held about a quarter of his meagre rations.

 The general frowned. "I couldn't, Cody. You need that water."

 Cody pursed his lips. "Your file says that you need more water than a baseline human, sir."

 "Yes, usually I do," the general conceded, "but in extreme cases such as this, I am able to use the Force to tide me over until such a time that I have access to more. No, I will not be taking a larger ration than my men when we all need water desperately. If anything, I should be taking less."

 Cody restrained a huff and fell silent. He didn't want to encourage him.

 When Cody handed General Kenobi his water rations and breakfast on the fourth day, he almost gasped. The general's skin was beginning to flake, his skin impossibly pale.

 "I thought you hadn't gone into the sun?" Cody couldn't quite keep the accusatory tone out of his voice.

 General Kenobi glanced up, blinking tiredly. "Don't worry, Cody, I haven't. This is… a standard reaction to restricted water supplies for me."

 "General."

 "There's not much we can do about it, Cody. I'm going to spend most of the day in meditation, so I'm afraid I won't be of much help to you or the men."

 Cody sighed, feeling his stomach roll. "That's alright, sir. We can manage. Everyone's too tired to get into trouble anyway. Just… stay alive."

 "I assure you, Commander, I am trying."

 By the time General Windu got there, at the eve of their sixth day on planet, the general could barely stand. The Korun Jedi strode off his landing ship and scooped General Kenobi up into his arms before the younger Jedi could attempt to walk, hugging him tightly to his chest.

 "Mace," the general said, the roughness of his voice undermining all the effectiveness of his chastisement.

 "Shut it, Kenobi," the man practically growled. "We're going to inject some fluids into you and then you're going to spend the next two hours in the water shower, you hear me?"

 General Kenobi hummed. "That actually sounds quite nice."

 The next time Wolffe, Gree and Ponds dragged Cody out to 79's and got him drunk, Cody found himself swearing up and down that he saw General Windu's lips twitch.

 ----

 After that, Cody took extra care to make sure General Kenobi always had a glass or a bottle of water nearby.

 "I know what you're doing, Cody," the general murmured one evening when they were working together in the general's quarters.

 Cody had placed a glass of water beside the general's tea. He'd read in one of the news sites he had access to on his personal datapad allotted to him as a commander that tea wasn't nearly as hydrating as water.

 Cody raised his eyebrow as he clutched his own glass.

 "I don't know what you mean, General."

 General Kenobi's lips quirked as he looked at him. "It appears I have been a bad influence, Commander. Regardless, thank you. It's nice to know that you care."

 Cody felt his eyes drop under the weight of his general's sincerity.

 General Kenobi had always made sure to make Cody and his brothers feel like individuals and know that they were appreciated but he rarely got so personal with them.

 "It's alright, General. I just want to…"

 Make sure that General Kenobi never looked like he was disintegrating in front of his eyes again. But Cody didn't say that.

 "It's alright, Cody," the general said, thankfully. Cody wasn't sure how he was going to finish his sentence. "I understand that it can be distressing to see. Goodness knows I traumatised Anakin enough during his padawanship on the one mission where our water supply was destroyed."

 Cody swallowed. "I-"

 He was never usually this lost for words. Normally, Cody preferred not to talk if he could avoid it, and the general never forced him to, but he felt like he had to say something, to communicate some of his feelings.

 General Kenobi waited for him to finish, taking a sip of his water as he did, but smiled gently when Cody couldn't find the right words. "I appreciate the reminder, Commander. My… condition can be… inconvenient at times."

 Cody didn't ask just what variation of human the general was to make him so water reliant, though he wanted to.  Instead he gathered up all the serenity he could find, pushing it out.

 The general's drew back for a second, his expression crumpling as he furrowed his eyebrows. Then, he slowly turned to Cody and beamed.

 Cody was glad his general didn’t say anything about it, instead he just turned the datapad so that Cody could see it.

 "Now I was thinking…"

 ----

 It wasn't an issue again until they got captured.

 Cody didn't even really know how it had happened. They had been answering a distress beacon on an uninhabited planet. It was a simple civilian transport crash.

 He remembered getting to the crash site. And then nothing.

 He came to only to find himself chained to a wall with General Kenobi on the other side of the room and Boil, Waxer and Wooley beside him. All of them had been stripped of their armour.

 There was a shallow pool of water in one corner of the cell, about five metres away from the general, though it was murky with dust and dirt.

 Cody tugged on his chains, finding that if he pulled, more would come out of the wall and pool on the floor, giving him a greater range of movement around the cell.

 The movement drew the attention of General Kenobi, who had been meditating.

 "Ah, Cody," he greeted, his voice already raspy. Cody's eyes immediately zeroed in on the thick collar around General Kenobi's neck.

 So they couldn't count on any assistance from the Force.

 "How long have we been here?" Cody asked and the general frowned.

 "I've been awake for two hours now, but I think we may have been unconscious for some time."

 Cody grunted in acknowledgement, gears in his head already turning.

 Before they could continue their interaction, the door was slammed open, causing Wooley, Boil and Waxer to wake up.

 The man with oily black hair and pale skin smiled sharply at them as five of largely muscled goons filled the room, two of them dragging a large tank of water which came up to their hips behind them.

 General Kenobi twitched minutely, the equivalent of a horrified gasp on a less controlled man.

 "Ah," their captor said. "You're all finally awake. Good. That means it's time for business."

 The man looked directly at General Kenobi, taking a step forward so that he was standing over him.

 "Imagine our surprise when the famous General Kenobi got caught up in our humble little con. We'd thought we'd make a pretty penny from either the Separatists or the Republic, but, when we were observing you, we found something strange, and a simple blood test confirmed it for us."

 General Kenobi leaned back slightly, his face still impassive, but the captor's grin widened.

 He nodded and two of the men surged forward, grasping his arms and unlocking his shackles. The general struggled in their hold, to no avail as they literally tore his clothes off, causing Cody's heart to jump into his throat. Of all the horrors, Cody expected to experience, he never thought he would be forced to watch this.

 He let out a sigh of relief when instead of continuing to touch him, the men hauled him into the water, even as his eyebrows furrowed in confusion.

 The general thrashed, sticking his head up from the water.

 "I'm going to need you to turn, General," the man said, crossing his arms smugly.

 General Kenobi glared up at him.

 The man shrugged and waved his hand.

 The two goons grabbed the general's shoulders and forced his head under, one of them grabbing his head and turning it to face his troops.

 Another goon pulled out a blaster, pointing it directly at Wooley.

 "I'll only say this one more time," the man said, his voice dropping menacingly. "Turn or I let them shoot."

 The general bucked for only a second more before the fight drained out of him, his black flattening against the bottom of the tank as he squeezed his eyes shut.

 The goons let the general fall out of their hold at a wave of their leader's hands.

 And then the general's body shimmered. Literally.

 When asked about it later, Cody and the others would have trouble describing the sight they saw. It wasn't a long process, as the skin around his legs and waist blurred. Between one blink and the next, the general's legs were replaced by a long, scaled tale which floated gracefully in the water.

 The scales were a deep blue, which slowly faded to a brilliant turquoise towards the tips with a few of those lighter scales peppered around where his tail faded into his torso, cutting off just below his belly button.

 Cody was almost so distracted by the appendage - which was much longer than the general's legs had been, so long, in fact, that it had to curl and twist awkwardly to stay in the water - that he didn't notice the gills that opened up on General Kenobi's neck.

 The general glared up at their captor, his head still underwater.

 The man only grinned and a small wave of his hand at the two goons grabbing the general and pulling his torso out of the water, holding him still by squeezing his shoulders, one of them even encircling a hand around his neck. They captor withdrew a small device from his pocket, lining it up with Kenobi's back and firing it into him, causing the Jedi to buck as something was obviously planted into him.

 The goons dropped him and General Kenobi only barely caught himself on the bottom of the tank, the small flaps of skin on is neck rippling as he took a deep breath.

 And then one of the men smashed the kriffing glass.

 The action completely destroyed the tank, causing the general to spill out onto the ground, flailing as his tail tried and failed to be an effective limb on land. The goons grabbed General Kenobi, clamping his tale into a ring of metal that Cody hadn't had time to notice on the floor of the cell.

 The general didn't even fight as they drew the shackles out of the wall and rechained him, too busy gasping on the ground, his back arched as his gills quivered uselessly.

 "Ah yes," the man said, crouching down. "I understand that the transition to breathing outside of water can be… uncomfortable for a changed mermaid if they are caught unawares."

 Cody was unable to restrain his snarl at that and the man turned his sharp amusement to him.

 "Don't worry, Commander," the man said, patting the general's hair, a gesture that made Cody's blood boil. "It won't kill him. It is just an unpleasant experience. We have to keep the great High General off his toes, after all?"

 The man laughed at his own pun before he caressed the general's face. It took all of Cody's self-control not to fling himself across the room.

 Their captor noticed, his grin widening as he went on, "I'll be giving you just enough rations to keep you all alive until our buyer comes. After all, it's pretty obvious that it will be the easiest way to ensure the general's absolute obedience."

 He stood nodding at the goon that had previously had Wooley at blaster point.

 "Give the general a reminder of why it is in his best interest to comply, why don't you? It can be a gift for when his body teaches itself how to breathe again."

 The muscled man grinned and lunged towards Cody, ramming the butt of his blaster into Cody's cheekbone, causing Cody's vision to explode into stars. By the time he'd blinked them from his eyes, the group had left, leaving the clones and their general alone once again.

 "You alright, Codes?" Waxer asked and Cody waved his question away.

 "You've hit me harder, vod. I'm more worried about the general."

 They quickly made their way over to General Kenobi, their chains almost pulled taught as they knelt a mere metre away from him. They watched, helpless, as the general's gasps slowed and evened out, until his eyes refocused again.

 Of course, the first words out of the general's mouth were, "Cody, you're bleeding."

 Cody bit back a growl, keeping his voice smooth. "It's just a scratch general. Nothing compared to… this."

 The General pursed his lips, his gaze sliding off Cody's to settle on the ground near his knee.

 "Yes… I do apologise about not telling you about my race's… quirk. I do try not to advertise it.  As you can see, we are considered rather valuable and exotic in many circles and I didn't want to inadvertently put anyone in danger."

 "It's alright, general. I understand," Cody said quickly. He'd probably be more annoyed if he wasn't so worried. The general was breathing shallowly and his tail was twitching, though it couldn't move much because of its restraints.

 The general pushed himself up onto his elbows, since he had no wall to lean his back against.

 "I'm okay, Cody. It is just… uncomfortable," the general broke off with a wince, his tail trying to curl up but failing because of the metal ring. "Though, I would be grateful if you could remove the glass."

 That immediately galvanised them into action, as they threw pieces of the glass away.

 Cody paused at the general's tail, waiting for a nod before he gently lifted it up with one hand and quickly brushed away the glass from under it. The scales were soft and smooth under Cody's hand but he could feel firm, powerful muscles just under them.

 The general sighed when all the glass had finally been cleared, murmuring a thanks as his eyes slipped shut.

 "We can't do anything for the cuts, general," Wooley informed him with a frown.

 The general hummed tonelessly as he sagged downwards. "That's alright, Wooley. They barely even sting."

 Cody grunted unhappily and the general smiled. "You don't have room to talk, Cody."

 Cody suppressed an eye roll.

 "What are we going to do?" Boil asked.

 The general's expression pinched. "Whatever he put in me is preventing me from transforming back, and the lock to my collar needs a passcode, so I'm afraid that I won't be any help during an escape attempt. In fact, I would be rather a great hindrance."

 "We're not leaving you," Cody snapped quickly before the general could suggest it and General Kenobi grimaced.

 "I was not going to suggest it, Commander, though it would probably be your best chance. I know how the idea would be received."

 Waxer huffed. "Damn right, General. We're not leaving you."

 General Kenobi frowned. "I think you can address me as Obi-Wan by this point. You know my biggest secret, after all."

 Cody leaned forward in his crouched position. "What do they want with you? Why not ransom you to the Republic or the Separatists."

 The general shrugged. "I imagine he does not want to risk being double crossed - a smart move in that regard. And… my species can be sold for exceedingly high prices, whether it be to harvest our scales, which are believed to have almost magical properties, or for more… recreational purposes."

 Cody reached his hand out before aborting the movement. "Gener… Obi-Wan."

 The general breathed deeply, but choked as his gill fluttered. He gasped and coughed for a few seconds, his arms collapsing as he fell down onto his back.

 "Obi-Wan!"

 General Kenobi's chest fell up and down as he slowly drew in breaths.

 "I need to concentrate on my breathing," the man explained quietly, keeping his eyes closed.

 "Is there anything we can do?"

 "Just… keep talking please. I like your voice… voices."

 The clones glanced at each other before they started up a conversation. They started by cataloguing their situation, throwing around ideas for escape, though it eventually devolved into idle topics about other troopers on the Negotiator; gossip about various bets as well as embarrassing training stories.

 After a while, the general's breathing slowed even further and his head rolled to the side, his face relaxing as he dozed off.

 They didn't stay up too much longer, sorting themselves into a guard rotation, not caring about how effective it could really be in their situation. The lights stayed the dim yellow tone that they had been ever since they woke up, not so bright that they would have trouble sleeping, but also not so dim that they couldn't see the very edges of the cell, the pool in the corning glinting, barely, torturously, out of reach.

 The general didn't wake up the next day until the cell door burst open.

 Five cups of water were slammed down alongside one large bowl of grey mush, sloshing some of the precious liquid onto the floor. The guard strode forward and tipped a final cup over the general's tail, causing him to groan and jerk a bit. The guard leered at him, crouching down to run his hand over the blue scales before he left.

 As soon as the door closed, Cody was moving, grabbing two of the cups and moving over to the general as quickly as possible.

 General Kenobi had pushed himself back up onto his elbows at the intrusion into the cell, but he'd squeezed his eyes shut when the water hit him, and tucked his chin into his chest when the guard touched him.

 "Hey, Obi-Wan," Cody said, his voice low and smooth. "Can you sit up?"

 The general opened his eyes, a small smile twitching at his lips when he saw Cody, though he frowned as he processed the question.

 "I can't sit like I can in my other form," he confessed his voice scratchy and hoarse. "The joints and the muscles are very different."

 "Can you push yourself up well enough to eat?"

 The general nodded, and rearranged himself so that he was leaning back against his hands instead of his elbows. He wasn't quite sitting straight, but Cody knew it would be enough that he wouldn't choke as he fed him.

 "I'm going to give you some water first, okay?"

 The general nodded gratefully and Cody brought the first cup up to his lips.

 After a few large gulps, the general brought a hand up, gently resting it on Cody's wrist. Cody obligingly pulled the cup back.

 The general took a few slow breaths before he blinked his eyes open.

 "Thank you," he said, his voice smoother than before, though it still had a slight rasp at the end.

 "Are you ready for the rest?" Cody asked, determined to hear his general's usual soft tone.

 General Kenobi shook his head.

 "Can you please pour some over my gills?" he asked, his voice barely above a whisper. "They're not… they're not meant to be out of water this long.

 Cody's eyes flickered to the general's neck and he tensed. The skin there were already looking flaky, and there was a sort of pink sludge peeking out around flaps of skin.

 "Of course, General."

 He shuffled forward on his knees, taking a second to silently debate the best way of doing this before he finally just cupped one hand behind the general's neck and trickled water over the gills on each side of it.

 The general let out a grateful groan, his eyes fluttering shut again, though he was unable to restrain a small whimper when the water ran out.

 "Why don't we get you some food before you have the other?"

 General Kenobi's eyes snapped open, and he glanced around the room. "There are only four glasses left - one for each of you."

 "We're happy to share the other three," Cody said, not needing to glance back to know the others were nodding in agreement.

 "I've already had two."

 "You've drunk half of one," Cody retorted. "You should be submerged in water."

 "I'm meant to -"

 "You can't 'sustain yourself with the Force' at the moment," Cody cut him off. "You need this. We'll be alright."

 The general hesitated, obviously gearing up for another argument, so Cody lightly poked at his gills which, though moist, were still pink and inflamed.

 General Kenobi flinched back, letting out a hiss that made Cody's gut twist guiltily. He hid his face away from Cody, his entire body tensing.

 "Okay," he whispered, letting out a huge sigh that left him gasping.

 Cody grabbed onto his shoulder, supporting his weight until the general could focus again.

 "Okay," he murmured back, squeezing the general's shoulder and resisting the urge to pull him into a hug.

 -----

 It only got worse from there.

 By the third day, Boil had to sit behind the general to hold him up as they fed him, and he was only awake long enough to eat and drink before he slumped back. The scales on his tail had lost their shine and were starting to look almost leathery whilst his gills looked almost infected with how dry and swollen they were becoming.

 On the fourth night, General Kenobi woke with a gasp during Cody's shift. Cody quietly shuffled over to the man, trying not to disturb his brothers.

 "General," Cody asked after the man had stopped choking on air. "Is there anything I can do?"

 The general breathed out a small sight that turned into a sob at the end. "Hurts."

 Cody swallowed, purposefully avoiding looking at his cracked lips or the way that his skin had begun to start flaking off. "I know, Obi-Wan. I can't help you. I'm sorry."

 "…. Hold me… please?"

 Cody's head jerked up at the whispered request. "What?"

 The general let out another quiet sob. "Please… I need…"

 Cody knew the feeling of when it was all too much, and he just wanted to be held, even for a little while, have something to comfort him and distract him from the ache inside. So, of course he lay down beside the general, pulling the man into his chest, and being careful not to pull at his tail. He ran a hand through Obi-Wan's hair, making soft crooning noises until the man fully relaxed into the embrace.

 ----

 It took a full seven days for the rescue to come. Or, at least, they got fed seven times. The dim lighting in the cell never changed, and Cody quickly felt his internal clock being thrown off kilter.

 Obi-Wan barely lifted his head when General Skywalker burst into the room, lightsaber flashing.

 He did, though, manage a small smile.

 "Anakin," his voice was so rough that it was barely intelligible.

 "Quickly," General Skywalker said, gesturing to the troopers that had streamed into the room behind him.

 Rex ran forward, opening a large bottle of water and gently pouring it over Obi-Wan's tail, causing the mermaid to let out a low groan. Another trooper took his place when the bottle ran out, and Rex hurried over to Cody, taking out a laser cutter and sheering through the chains just below Cody's shackles.

 General Skywalker knelt down by Obi-Wan's head, taking out his own bottle and pouring some of it over Obi-Wan's neck. Obi-Wan gasped and whimpered. His gills had almost closed over with the weird mucus-like sludge that had begun oozing out of them, and crusting over them, and Cody knew that touching them at all could cause the general to cry out.

 The younger Jedi growled but Obi-Wan reached up and clutched his arm.

 "Peace," he rasped. "Peace, Ani."

 General Skywalker took a deep breath, leaning his head forward. Then, the ring around Obi-Wan's tail sprang open with a loud clang that echoed around Cody's skull.

 He scrooped Cody's general up into his arms and stood up.

 "We're getting out of here."

 Cody managed to take out one of the cheap droid guards that were littered through the facility they had been kept it, seizing his guards as he followed closely behind General Skywalker, who was barking orders at Rex to relay to the Resolute through his helmet comm, as General Windu swept through the facility with his own forces, his purple saber whirling in a deadly ark.

 He didn't really remember much of the escape past that, but the next memory his mind could clearly focus on was bursting into the medbay, General Skywalker immediately striding over to a large tank of water that was set up on one side of it and dumping Obi-Wan into it.

 Obi-Wan started writhing in the tank, flapping his tail wildly and sending water splashing all over the bay as he took huge, shuddering gasps, clutching at his chest.

 General Skywalker put a hand on Cody's shoulder as he surged forward, stopping him from going to his general's side.

 "It's alright," he murmured. "He just needs to get used to breathing in the water again."

 Cody almost snapped at General Skywalker right then, but managed to restrain himself. Barely. Rex seemed to sense his agitation because he came up around his side and bumped into him.

 Eventually, Obi-Wan's breathing evened out but he was still shaking slightly. He blinked his eyes open, and pushed himself off the bottom of the tank and hooking his elbows on the edge of the tank so that he could pull his body up. His tail pooled around the bottom of the tank, the end swishing around playfully.

 "Are you feeling better?" General Skywalker asked.

 Obi-Wan smiled. "Yes, thank you, Anakin."

 His voice was somehow different than before. It was undeniably still Obi-Wan's, but more musical than before, dancing around Cody's ears and sending a shiver down his spine.

 He blinked looking around the room with a frown. "I seemed to have made a mess."

 He flicked his tale, the tip of his fin breeching the water and sending a few droplets of water into his hair. "If you get this collar off of me, I will be able to clean it up."

 General Skywalker crossed his arms. "You should not be using the Force, Obi-Wan. Water can easily be cleaned up."

 Obi-Wan scowled at him and slipped back into the water, his tail jumping out of the water as he rearranged himself, flicking water towards General Skywalker, who squawked in indignation. Obi-Wan ignored him, curling up in the tank, and leaning his head back against the glass, folding his tail so that it would fit entirely in the tank.

 Something in Cody's gut twisted to see the general so cramped. But it was a better image that he had been privy to not an hour ago. The dried, flaky skin and scales had been washed off and, though he was still pale, he did not look so much like he was about to draw his last breath.

 Cody drifted towards him slowly as the medics checked them both out. For once, he was happy to stay in the med bay. Kix had told him in no short words to stay there, assuring him that he had no reports to complete, since they would only need his verbal accounts for the once that Master Windu and Ponds would be filling out. He wasn't on the Negotiater, so he couldn't fulfill any of his other duties and there were was no paperwork on board that he needed to complete.

 But he hadn't really needed to list of reasons. He wasn't eager to let the general out of his sight, and Obi-Wan had seemed to like him leaning against the tank, the glass only thing stopping their shoulders from touching.

 They had managed to get the collar off, but were unable to operate on the device in his back, apparently scans had said that it had fused to his spine, but Cody hadn't heard much of it, too busy focusing on the way the general's hand felt in his as he gently clutched over the top of the tank whilst Kix told him he'd have to stay in the tank a little longer.

 ----

 Cody shifted uncomfortably as he was led through the temple by a padawan.

 He hadn't seen Obi-Wan in over a week. The man had been ferried off by a group of Jedi healers as soon as they touched down on Coruscant. He hadn't heard much, except that there had been issues with the device and that Obi-Wan was still stuck in his aquatic form. That was until he'd gotten the summons this morning.

 He was led into the Room of A Thousand Fountains and froze. He'd never been in here before. It was overwhelmingly… alive.

 The padawan smirked up at him. "It's great, isn't it? Come on, Master Kenobi is over here."

 Cody's head spun around as he was lead past vast bodies of water that were more lakes than fountains, the air getting thicker and warmer as they went along. Eventually, they got to a fountain that had glowing stones on the inside, showing just how deep it was and putting the colourful and large seaweed on the bottom on display. A small stream of water fell into it in the centre, falling from another fountain that was on a thickly vegetated platform twenty metres above them.

 As Cody approached, something darted out of the underwater forest. Cody watched as the deep blue and turquoise fin flapped, holding back a gasp as it seemed to ripple, the scales turning golden copper gradient for a few moments before it settled back on its usual colour.

 Obi-Wan hooked his head over the soft, spongey texture of the edge of the fountain.

 "Cody," the man greeted with a smile.

 "Obi-Wan," Cody breathed. The world fell away around him. Obi-Wan was the only thing in the world. "It's good to see you. I've been worried."

 Obi-Wan pursed his lips. "Yes. There has been some… complications with removing the device, but I am lined up for surgery sometime in the next few weeks and the healers are finally certain that it will be safe. Or, as certain as you can be when concerning healing."

 Cody nodded. He appreciated his general tell him. The Jedi was probably beyond stressed. The last thing he needed to do was appease Cody's anxieties.

 "I didn't just call you here because I wanted to give you an update. I'm sorry it has taken so long for me to check in but it took a long time to get information. The healers haven't seen something like this before."

 Cody straightened, even as his chest warmed. "What do you need, general?"

 Obi-Wan smiled. "We're alone, Cody, you can call me Obi-Wan. And it's more something I can do for you."

 The man's expression faltered for a second before his neutrally pleasant mask fell back into place.

 "Anakin and Ahsoka have been in here a lot, requesting rides through the fountain systems," he admitted. "They told me it was for training purposes just in case we need to retreat through water channels. And, whilst I'm perfectly aware that that was merely an excuse, it occurred to me that it was a rather good point and that I really should train with you in case we get stuck in that situation."

 Cody blinked. "Excuse me, sir."

 "You don't have to if it makes you uncomfortable, of course, but if you are willing, I would like to take you for a swim with me. I can assure you that you will be safe. Not only is there a rebreather over on the bench behind that tree, but I also can ensure that you won't die with my own abilities."

 "You… want to take me swimming."

 "Only if you're willing. I want it to be clear, you will not get in trouble if you do not want to, and I will not be disappointed."

 Cody shook himself. "No! I mean yes, I want to. It makes sense. I should know what it feels like now, rather than get caught off guard later."

 Obi-Wan nodded. "Alright. Then, just put the rebreather on and jump in."

 Cody did as he was told, surprised by how warm the water was. And then Obi-Wan was right in front of him, so close that Cody could lean forward and bump their heads together.

 "I'm going to pull you underwater now," Obi-Wan informed him in a slow, steady tone. "We won't go far before we test your rebreather to make sure it's working. I'll need you to take three deep breaths and then three shallow ones. Nod if you can breathe clearly and then give me a tame on the shoulder when you're read. Then, you're going to hook yourself around my back, with both you're arms and legs, so they don't get in the way of my tail. We are going to be moving pretty fast. If, at any point you need me to stop, I want you to squeeze my chest twice, and I'll take us to the quickest route to the surface. We'll be going through a few paths through a few of the fountains, since they're all interconnected, so don't be too alarmed if our surroundings vary."

 "Do you understand."

 Cody nodded vigorously. "Yes sir."

 Obi-Wan smiled. "Good man."

 He reached out, and grasped Cody's shoulders, and then they were going under. Cody went through the safety tests dazedly, too distracted by the way that Obi-Wan's tail would ripple with copper and gold every so often, his hair floating slightly in the water. The world only came back into focus as he was encircling his arms around Obi-Wan, squeezing him close.

 And then his stomach leapt into his throat as water rushed passed him, filling his ears with a roaring.

 It took Cody a few seconds to orient himself, the world moving past him in the blur, the lighting changing ever so often as Obi-Wan darted through tunnels and different fountains. After about five minutes, Obi-Wan slowed down slightly, and Cody could start to see the some of the details within the ponds they were travelling through. A few seconds later, their heads breeched the surface of the water and Cody blinked, his head still spinning.

 It took him a few seconds to register that he could let go, and then he pried his arms, off letting out a half laugh as his insides slowly started to settle.

 Obi-Wan spun in the water to look at him.

 "Are you alright, Cody?" he asked, his eyebrows furrowing. "Was that too much?"

 Cody shook his head, a giddy grin slipping onto his face. He would never usually be so obvious, but it was hard to concentrate after such a rush, and he felt safe with his general.

 "Not that was… incredible."

 Obi-Wan smirked, a spark lighting up in his eyes. "I think I may have created something dangerous within you."

 Cody returned the smile. "Maybe."

 The swooping in his gut wasn't entirely because of the trip.

 ----

 It turned out that Cody got to see the general in his aquatic form again much sooner.

 He stood shoulder to shoulder with his general as they descended to the surface of Stewjon, his heart hammering in his chest.

 They were being sent to negotiate Stewjon's formal allying with the Republic, as the previously neutral system had reached out to the Senate recently. However, they would only allow one Jedi to enter their world and, since the Council wasn't about to send General Kenobi in completely without backup, Cody had been chosen to accompany him.

 "They will be distrustful of us," Obi-Wan informed him on the ride down to the planet. "They'll probably try to test us."

 "How, sir?"

 "I do not know."

 He'd never known Obi-Wan to be such a bad liar.

 The first surprise was that the discussions would be held underwater in the aquatic palace.

 The first test was when there wasn't a rebreather for Cody. The three land dwelling Stewjoni had their own permanent gear, but Cody had been provided with none.

 "You insisted that you trust this one, that he will not harm us," a mer with a tale that was a darker blue than Obi-Wan's which rippled green in the sunlight, stated. "If this is true, you should not have any qualms with bestowing your blessing on him."

 Obi-Wan levelled him with an unimpressed glare that Cody had seen silence senators.

 The mer narrowed his eyes but did not back down.

 After a few seconds, Obi-Wan scowled, giving a quiet growl as he quickly took off his trunks and slipped into the water. Cody was unable to take his eyes off the transformation, trying to capture the brief scene in his mind.

 Obi-Wan's head burst from the water and Cody couldn't take his eyes off him, not even when Obi-Wan cast another glare behind himself at the smugly grinning mer. He was mesmerised by the deep blue and turquoise and an electric spark shot through his body every time the coppery gold rippled through the colours as the sun caught it in just the right way.

 "The significance of what I am about to do is not lost on me," Obi-Wan told the mer sternly. "The Jedi Order encourages its inhabitants to research the cultures of their home planets and partake in them if they so which."

 "But you have decided not to partake so you have no right to claim offence."

 Obi-Wan's fists tightened and his tail flicked sharply under the water. "Just because I dwell primarily on land does not mean that I have completely abandoned our ways."

 With that, Obi-Wan spun around, pulling himself half out of the water on the boat they'd all sailed out on before entering the water. It's deck sat only a few inches above the surface of the water to make the descent easy, and to also make it easier for people to independently get back on the boat.

 Obi-Wan gestured for Cody to sit and he did so obediently. Obi-Wan immediately moved his body so that his arms were on either side of his knees and his torso was pressed up against his shins.

 "Do you trust me?" Obi-Wan murmured, too low for the other mer to hear.

 Cody nodded, not even needing to think.

 "I'm going to need to kiss you to do this. And I'm going to need you to not struggle."

 Cody's breath caught and his heart lurched into his throat, but he nodded almost as fast as he did to the first question.

 "I understand, sir… Obi-Wan."

 Obi-Wan's lips twitched up into a smile. "Good."

 One hand came up to cup the back of Cody's head as Obi-Wan drew their lips together. Cody couldn't stop himself from responding to the kiss enthusiastically, not breaking from it, even as Obi-Wan's other arm pushed off the deck to hook around the back of Cody's neck a second before Obi-Wan allowed himself to fall back, pulling Cody down into the water with him.

 Cody didn't try to pull away, even as they plunged deep down, so deep that he could see the light fading from behind his closed eyelids. He opened his mouth to Obi-Wan's embrace even as his lungs started to burn, feeling the rushing water slide past his skin.

 For a moment, Cody felt a sense of panic seize his heart as his lungs throbbed and his entire body tensed instinctively. It was all he could do not to thrash instinctively as he tried to find the surface.

 Then, Obi-Wan pulled back from him, put instead of water rushing into his open mouth, Cody felt blessed air fill his lungs.

 Cody blinked his eyes open, breathing deeply and watching the water bend around his mouth but never touch it.

 "Wha-?"

 Obi-Wan smiled gently at him. "It's a Force technique unique to Stewjoni."

Cody blinked, seeing further than he knew he should be able to as he spied a school of mers gaping at them.

 He remembered the conversation that he'd overheard just before he'd received the assignment.

 He'd paused outside the door of his general's quarters in the temple, not wanting to interrupt the conversation, which the inhabitants were so absorbed by that they did not register his signature.

 "I know what you're doing, Mace, sending us on this mission together," Obi-Wan's voice had been tired.

 "You deserve to be happy, Obi-Wan."

 There was a sigh. "Mace… I can't. You know that."

 "I trust you to not get attached," had come the reply. "And he is willing. He wants this as much as you do. You would not be taking advantage of him."

 Cody had only just picked up the quiet response. "I… care for him so much. I do not want to jeopardise what we have. Not when I don't know for certain. I couldn't do that to him, put him in that position. And the 212th shouldn't have to deal with the fallout if my proposition were to be rejected. I wouldn't act any different to him, of course, but he would always know, and there would be no coming back from that."

 "Just… think about it Kenobi."

 "I will when you contemplate it with your own commander, you hypocrite. Offering him tea Mace, really?"

 Cody had knocked after that, but it felt as if his heartbeat had not returned to its normal rate since he heard that conversation.

 When they retired to their (still underwater) room later that night, and Obi-Wan's face reddened at seeing only one bed - a spongey think, that was actually rather pleasant to lay on - Cody decided to stop playing around.

 "I do not mind, Obi-Wan," Cody assured him, cutting of the other man's winding offer to take the floor if Cody was uncomfortable. "I do not mind sleeping in the same bed as you."

 Obi-Wan glanced at him sharply. "You don't?"

 Cody kicked swam forward so that he was within touching distance as he faced his general.

 "The… thing you did to help me breathe. That had cultural subtext and meaning, didn't it?"

 Obi-Wan ducked his head. "Of course."

 "Did it have romantic meaning?"

 Obi-Wan clenched his eyes shut. "Yes. It is for mated pairs of the deepest trust."

 "I do not mind."

 Obi-Wan's eyes snapped open. "What?"

 Cody reached out and grabbed his shoulder. "I would not be opposed to that kind of relationship. I have desired it for a while now."

 Obi-Wan gaped at him and Cody pulled himself closer, stopping less than an inch away from Obi-Wan, their noses almost brushing."

 "May I kiss you?" he whispered.

 Obi-Wan swallowed. Then he nodded.

 Cody leant forward and tilted his head, locking their lips together as they floated in the water. Obi-Wan pulled him tighter, winding his tail around Cody's legs.

 When Cody pulled away, he couldn't stop the wide smile from splitting his features, staring into Obi-Wan's blown out pupils.

 He was looking forward to what the future held.

[falcon-eye]

Part 3? of the story for my OCs for @inexplicifics Accidental Warlord AU! I intended to only write like the opening paragraph for this today but now it’s two hours later and the whole thing is typed out. Oops.

At some point this will all be on AO3, I promise! But until then, should I do a tag list? Would people want me to tag them as I write these in the meantime? Please let me know!

(Also points to whoever can guess what Veko’s talking about when it comes to colors and smells and things! I also have it, though not exactly like Veko does)

(Also bonus points to wherever can figure out what real life goat Ren is based on lol)

———————————————

Unfortunately, Veko wasn’t able to return to Eloise for a few more years. Between simply not being in the area, not having time between hunts, his brother Hamra almost being disemboweled one year, and his own injuries, he just hadn’t been able to make his way to her little town in Temeria.

This year, he was determined to go back, though he wasn’t sure why. He chalked it up to being able to stay somewhere comfortable, with actual good food, for free, but even he knew that was a flimsy excuse. Eloise fascinated him, for lack of a better word. She hadn’t been afraid of him—quite the opposite! From the get-go it was like she had tried to intimidate him, and godsdammit it worked. But she was so nice to him, and despite what she said, her food was quite good. Or maybe everything Veko had been eating recently was just that awful.

Veko swung down off of Nine—his new gray mare after Eight became wyvern food (rest in peace you prick)—and hitched her to the fence post outside Eloise’s house. For some reason, he was nervous to see her again. Was it because it had been so long (for a human anyway) since he’d been here? He didn’t want her to think he wanted out of their deal or anything.

Veko brushed as much dirt and grime off of his armor as he could before knocking on the door. A moment later, it swung open and Eloise stared up at him with wide eyes.

Veko scratched his burns. “Uh, hello Elo—“

Eloise threw herself at him, arms around his neck. “Oh my gods!” she cried. “You fucking prick! Where have you been?!” Veko faltered for a moment before tentatively wrapping his arms around Eloise’s, but she immediately pulled back, giving him an icy glare. “Well?!”

“I, uh, I’ve been... busy,” Veko replied, but for some reason, Veko felt awful despite it being the truth.

“Busy!” Eloise exclaimed. Holy shit, she’d really been upset about this.

“I’m sorry,” Veko said, staring down at his boots. “I really am. And—and I really was busy. I don’t want you to think I was trying to get out of the deal or anything, cuz I wasn’t—“

“You think I’m upset because of the fucking deal?!” Eloise shouted. Veko blinked at her and she pinched the bridge of her nose. “For Melitele’s—get in here!”

Eloise pulled Veko into the house and slammed the door. Despite the few years that had gone by, not much inside had changed. There were more paint supplies strewn around the house than last time, but that was about it.

Veko scratched his scars again and Eloise slapped his hand away. “Sorry,” he said automatically.

“I thought you were dead!” Eloise shouted, poking a finger into Veko’s chest. “You’re a bloody Witcher! That’s what happens, isn’t it? You fight monsters, and then you die. Well godsdamn you I thought you died!”

Veko was horrified when the salty smell of tears began tickling his nose; something must have showed on his face, because Eloise rubbed her eyes quickly, not letting any of them fall.

“I’m sorry,” Veko said again.

Eloise glared at him again before suddenly hugging him. “Fucking git,” she hissed. “Send a letter or something, at least! I don’t know how to get ahold of you but I’m always here!”

Veko hesitated again but hugged Eloise back. This time, she didn’t pull away. “Sorry,” he said into her hair. “Just, every time I was in the area, something would come up, or my brother was hurt, or I was too injured to travel—“

“Are you ok now?!”

“Oh yeah, all healed up now.”

“And your brother?”

Veko smiled sadly, remembering the blood on his hands and the horrifying look of resignation on Hamra’s face. “Touch and go for a bit, but yeah, he also made a full recovery. I just couldn’t leave him like that.”

Eloise finally pulled away and crossed her arms. “Well damn,” she grumbled. “How can I be mad at you now?”

Veko chuckled, feeling like a weight had lifted off of his chest.

—————

During lunch, Eloise filled him in on how things had been going since they’d seen each other. Lennart was still a bastard, but after being slapped in front of the gods and everyone by a lady at the tavern, he’d been officially removed from his position. A local woman had taken the title of alderwoman now, and things had been a lot better. A few of Eloise’s goats had had multiple babies, though a wolf problem last year had taken a few of them. She still had one of her original nanny goats, though, and apparently this particular goat was about as stubborn as they come.

“She actually chased one of the wolves off, even!” Eloise explained. “Charged it head on. I’ve never seen a wolf roll like that in my life.”

“Remind me not to piss your goats off, then,” Veko chuckled.

Eloise seemed to pause for a moment. “I actually have to go feed them,” she said. “Plus, your horse has just been... well, outside tied to my fence. Come with me?”

So that was how Veko found himself leading his horse to the tiny barn behind Eloise’s house. He could see a couple goats that were obviously youngsters immediately rush over to the fence, bleating loudly. From within the barn, a huge tan goat trotted out and fucking screamed.

Veko flinched and even Nine pulled back. “Sorry, sorry,” Eloise said. “That’s Georgina. She’s... special.”

“I’ll say,” Veko grumbled. “This our wolf chaser?”

Eloise shook her head and pointed to another goat on the opposite side of the paddock. A little black thing, shorter than the others, with huge, curled horns. Eloise whistled and the goat immediately charged—and slammed horns first—into the fence.

“Ren,” Eloise said, crouching down to scratch the goat between the ears. “She’s harmless. Mostly.”

Veko looked at Nine and seemed to almost share a stare with the horse. A ‘can you believe this shit?’ moment that got Veko chuckling despite himself.

“Whatever you say.”

Eloise led Veko and Nine into the barn and into a small empty stall. “This was my father’s horse’s stall,” she explained as Veko began undoing Nine’s tack.

“Where is your old man, anyway?” he asked as he heaved the saddle down.

Eloise looked away. “He, um,” she cleared her throat. “He passed, um, a few months after you left.”

Veko dropped the saddle. “Fuck,” he said. “I’m—I’m so sorry. Fuck, if I’d known—“

“Veko,” Eloise put a hand on his arm, “my father was sick. Even I didn’t realize how badly until a week before he went. But it was... it was peaceful, at least. I’d made him dinner, he wished me goodnight, and I found him in the morning.”

Veko honestly didn’t know what else to say. Death was a weird subject for Witchers, after all. He continued grooming Nine while searching desperately for something to say that wasn’t ‘sorry’ again.

“Did he have... a funeral?” Veko asked. He could’ve slapped himself. Of course he had a fucking funeral.

Eloise seemed to sense Veko’s fumbling, because she smiled gently and nodded. “A very nice one, too,” she said. “I’ll go get some water for your horse.”

As Eloise walked away, Nine looked at Veko again. What was it with this horse? Veko pointed a warning finger in his face; Nine simply huffed and turned away. Somewhere, Hamra was laughing, Veko was sure of it. His brother had always had a good relationship with his horses.

Eloise returned a moment later with a bucket of water. Veko immediately took it from her and poured it into the empty trough.

“What’s her name?” Eloise asked. If he could blush, Veko would’ve been scarlet.

“Nine,” he said.

“‘Nine’?” Eloise repeated. “Does that mean something in another language or like, the number?”

“The, uh, the number.”

Eloise slapped Veko’s hand as it reached for his scars. “Why?”

“She’s my... ninth horse.”

There was beat before Eloise burst out laughing. “You’re something else, you know that?”

Veko smirked to cover his embarrassment. “So I’ve been told.”

Eloise rolled her eyes and headed over to the opposite end of the barn. The far wall was lined with bales of hay. Before she could even reach for one, Veko rushed over and hoisted one over his shoulder. Eloise put her hands on her hips.

“You know I’ve been doing this for years even before you showed up, right?” And she had a point; what was wrong with him?

“I, uh,” he looked anywhere but at Eloise, trying to find an excuse. “I figured it’s... been a while since I’ve been here so I, uh, owe you. I guess.”

“Are you telling me or asking me?”

“Yes.”

Eloise laughed. “Ok then,” she said, heading back out of the barn. “I’ll get the gate at least.”

Veko followed Eloise to the paddock and held Ren by a leather strap around her neck while he made his way through the gate. The other goats immediately began following him. As soon as the hay hit the ground, the goats descended. Eloise let Ren go and the other goats parted to let her through.

“I never realized how scary goats were,” Veko said as Eloise latched the gate closed.

“To be fair, I have quite the herd of characters,” she replied. “Most people have a rooster to wake them at sunrise; I have Georgina and her screaming. Ren is like my own personal guard hound. Sometimes she gets out and chases off anyone who gets near the house. The others are still young, yet, but they’re slowly starting to show their personalities.”

“I’ll stick with horses, I think,” Veko said. “They’re enough trouble as it is.”

“Apparently!” Eloise laughed as she and Veko made their way back to the house. “Seeing as you’ve had nine of them!”

“This is a dangerous job!” Veko defended, but the tone was joking. “Plus in the grand scheme of things, nine horses hasn’t been a lot for how long I’ve been on the Path.”

Eloise’s brow furrowed. “How old are you?”

“Old.”

Eloise scoffed and started gathering some of her paints. Veko followed her into her art room, not sure what else to do at this point, and found the walls covered in different paintings than the last time he’d been here. One in an ornate frame was her father, exactly as real as if he was standing before them.

Eloise picked up a few leather straps from one of the tables. “Help me with something,” she said. “I’m going to repaint the goats’ collars and I don’t know what color to give who. I want you to help me decide.”

“Ok?” Veko said, taking a seat. “Why?”

“Something you said to my father, when you saved him,” Eloise replied. “It always confused him. He told you he lived in the house with the blue roof and you said it suited him. Why?”

Veko went to scratch his scars, but instead balled his hand into the fabric of his pants. “Well, it’s, uh,” he hesitated. Of all things for that old man to focus on!

“My father was always fascinated with color,” Eloise said, as if sensing Veko needed a minute. “That’s how I got into painting. He was never content with something being the original color it was. Hence, the blue roof. He said that you saying the blue suited him kind of, I don’t know, validated him.”

Veko’s chest felt tight. Now he felt fucking terrible for not being here before. Maybe Eloise’s father would’ve understood, or at least found it interesting that—

Veko cleared his throat. “So, sometimes,” he began, staring down at his hands. “When I think of things, or names, or... well anything, really. I get these senses.” When he looked up, Eloise was enraptured. “Like, your father, just looking at him, the color blue came to mind. I don’t know why.”

“Just colors?”

Veko shook his head. “Smells, sometimes. Like when I think of you... I, uh, I think of the smell of your paints.”

“That’s... that’s fascinating, Veko,” Eloise said. “Tell me more?”

Veko gestured to the collars. “Well, you’re trying to figure out what color for what goat. As soon as you said Georgina, green came to mind. I don’t know why. And Ren is red, but not because the name and word are close. Uh, sometimes when I picture my supplies in my pack, I see them like they’re all laid out on the table, lined up side-by-side, despite the fact that I know damn well they’re a jumbled mess in my bag. And in my head, the order is always the same. I kinda do the same thing with months. I see them lined up like squares on a wall.” Veko grimaced. Fuck. “No, ‘see’ is the wrong word, cuz I don’t—I’m not hallucinating or anything!”

“I believe you,” Eloise said softly, taking one of Veko’s hands in hers. And she was telling the truth. Veko felt the tension in his body release.

“It’s weird, I know,” he said. “So I don’t normally say anything. When I was younger the trainers thought my head got fucked up by the mutagens but it’s just the way I’ve always been.”

“Does your brother have this too?”

“No,” Veko chuckled. “But he’s been the most receptive to it, even if he doesn’t understand it. Like, his favorite color is green, but when I think of him I think of like an indigo color. And I’m red, but I don’t know why.”

“What about me?” Veko met Eloise’s gaze and held it. The look on her face was one of honest curiosity and interest. She smiled at him and squeezed his fingers. “What do you see when you think of me?”

Veko swallowed. “I see turquoise, like the color your dress was the first time we met. I don’t know if it’s because that’s what you were wearing or what, but when I think ‘Eloise’ I think of that faint turquoise color.”

“Does it work for family names?”

“Sometimes. What is your full name, anyway?”

“Eloise Calold.”

Veko cocked his head to the side. “Yellow,” he said. “Calold is yellow.”

“But not because of anything I’m wearing,” Eloise said, gesturing to the paint-stained brown smock she was currently wearing.

“Guess not.”

“Veko,” Eloise breathed. “That is the most fascinating thing I’ve ever heard of. So you see colors? Or, think in colors? I wish I had that. I wonder how it would affect my art. I wonder how it would affect your art.”

Veko pulled away and put his hands up. “Hey, whoa, who said anything about me being an artist?” he said.

Eloise laughed. “I bet you’re better than you think,” she said.

“I bet not.”

Eloise smirked. “Tell you what,” she said. “I’ll drop the subject if you do something for me.”

“Name it?”

“Let me paint you.”

Veko again was struck silent. She wanted to paint him? Apparently his mouth was hanging open, because Eloise tapped his chin to close it. “Why?” he managed.

“Because,” she replied. “We’re... friends. Or I like to think we are. And in case... in case something happens to you...” she gazed at the painting of her father, smiling down warmly at them, “I want you to be immortalized with him.”

What the fuck could Veko say to that? “Oh. Ok,” he said dumbly. “Uh. How do you want me?”

Eloise jumped up and ran for a blank canvas. “Whatever’s comfortable!” she called. “It takes a while.”

Veko just... sat there as Eloise began setting up. He turned this way and that, never quite settling, before Eloise huffed and dragged an armchair over. Veko abandoned the stool he’d been on and sat back into the warn leather.

“Better,” he said. He turned, scar facing away, and immediately Eloise’s hand reached out to turn him back. Her fingers grazed the puckered mess that was his cheek and he flinched.

“I’m sorry,” Eloise said gently. “I just—I want to see it.”

“Why?” Veko whispered.

“Because it’s a part of you,” Eloise replied. “And gods know I’ve kept you from scratching it enough.”

There was a moment where neither of them said a word. Veko’s heart sped in his chest like it hadn’t in many years. Eloise gazed over his burn scars and gently brushed her fingers over them again. Veko didn’t flinch this time, but just barely. Her fingers were cool against the phantom heat of his burns, and as she traced the expanse of them along his jaw, he couldn’t hold back the full-body shiver the touch elicited.

Eloise pulled back and Veko scrambled to find something to say before she said anything else about them. “So—so how does this work?” he asked. “I, uh, I just sit here?”

Eloise nodded and finally pulled back. “Yes,” she said, not meeting his gaze. Now that he was out of his own head, Veko could hear her heart hammering in her chest. “Just, um, get comfortable, relax, and um, don’t... don’t move, if you can help it.”

Veko grinned. “Ok.” Eloise nodded and began mixing a few paints.

Veko just... watched her. As brush met paint and paint met canvas, he could almost see the cogs turning in her head. Instead of sticking her tongue out, like he’d heard some artists do, she made faces. A stroke here and her mouth pinched to the side; stroke there and her mouth opened in a little ‘o’.

Veko wanted to slip into meditation, as that would be the best way to sit still for her, but he found he just couldn’t. As much as Eloise was watching him for her painting, he wanted to watch her. He couldn’t help but think of the last time they’d seen each other, and what he thought of her then. She wasn’t all that attractive, merely plain by any standards. Her laugh was unladylike and jarring. She intimidated him. She swore. She—

She made him dinner. She let him sleep in her home. She told him stories and listened to his in turn. She wanted his opinions. She found his mental crap fascinating. She worried for him. She cried for him!

She called them friends.

As Veko sat, watching Eloise paint his portrait, a warm weight settled in his gut. He didn’t want to leave in the morning. Hells, he didn’t want her to ever finish this bloody painting. And although emotions aren’t exactly a Witcher’s strong point, he had a sinking suspicion that what he was feeling...

Fuck.

[ecclecticentities]

To Be A Hero ~ 1

Chapter One: A Close Match

Bakugou x Fem!OC

Wordcount: 2.4kish 👀

Summary: The battle between Bakugou and the unknown opponent comes to an end but who actually won and who the eff are they?

A/N: I’m still mucking round with this idea but have a decent idea of where it’s going. Let me know what you think and reblog if you like it! 

Bakugou's hair was wet against his forehead when he starting to wake up. He kept his eyes shut as he assessed his surroundings via his other senses to know where he was and what was happening. He was damp, still in his hero costume but his gauntlets had been taken off. It smelt like chemicals, cleaning...no not cleaning, medicine. He must have gone down during the battle. It was quiet, a slight murmur of machines and people talking in another room. He was inside. In Recovery Girl's office. A groan beside him. He wasn't alone. Bakugou groaned himself as he reached up and ran his fingers through his hair. His body was stiff after the fight and the memories of what had happened began to flood through him.

Rain was pouring over them, luckily those in the stands were protected by the covers of the stadium. His hair fell over the tops of his eyes slightly and he struggled to see more than ten feet in front of him. He'd figured out three facts about them so far.

They were female with a standard athletic build. Clearly active with flexibility and fast reflexes. He'd figured that out after several attempts at a full frontal attack where they were easily able to counteract his attacks.

That was another thing he'd learned. By being that close he was able to take a close look at their hero costume. They weren't in his class, and he didn't recognise them from 3-B. So he had no intel on who they were or what their quirk was. But from their costume alone it too him they weren't mutated, they didn't have a creation quirk like Ponytail or a hardening quirk like Shitty Hair. They wore a a similar helmet to Tape Face without the tape cutter thing, do they have a name? Off topic. It was gold and had wings on the ear pieces on either side with a black face. He couldn't see their face. The rest of their costume was simple, a white long sleeve shirt that stopped at their waist, its a crop top with a back brace, that's where they kept the STUPID FUCKING METAL RODS THAT THEY'RE ALLOWED FOR SOME FUCKING REASON THAT HAS TO BE CHEATING. Gold decorative arm braces and bracelets on their wrists to match the helmet, gross. Black cargo pants with gold winged black combat boots to match the rest of the get up. But their quirk clearly had nothing to do with flight.

Their quirk? Well he hadn't actually learnt that yet. His theories though? Two options, first, they were stupid and quirkless and this was a joke punishment for something he did from Aizawa. Second option was that it had something to do with the lightning, they were able to conjure it and aim it where they wanted but they hadn't hit him yet thankfully. But that was stupid it was probably the first option, so why the fuck won't they quit if this is a joke.

"You ready to give up!" He yelled through the storm, thunder was heard from behind them as they walked closer to them, the rods held tightly in their hands as Bakugou readied his stance.

"Babe I'm just getting started," said the female voice. Blue lightning wound around the rods from their arms and down to the ground. "Why? You need a break?" There was a smirk in her tone even though he couldn't see it and he couldn't help but feel some sort of familiarity to the figure in front of him.

"Not even close," he said before launching towards them.

They jumped towards each other, Bakugou's gaunlets lit up with his explosions as lightning rippled from his oppositions rods and arms.

"WOAH LIGHTNING!" Midoriya yelled as he continued to write everything he saw of the new hero in training in front of him. He'd never witnessed a lightning quirk before, not anything like this. None of them had. This was new, a stranger who came in a looked to match Bakugou in fight and energy.

"Shinso how could you keep them from us! Their skills are on par with Bakugou look at those reflexes they must train constantly! That's so manly!" Kirishima yelled, the rest of the classes on their feet cheering on both fighters with 'woo's and 'ahh's.

Shinso stayed quiet in his seat as he watched his friend fight. They knew each other closely, had fought against and trained beside one another for a year now with their own teachers outside of the normal UA training. He worried what this meant, he knew the end goal, he knew the backstory but never thought they would try to get into the hero course this late into their time here at UA. Was there even enough time? Sure they had the skills in one on one battles but being a hero was so much more than that. Shinso learnt that before he'd even gotten into the course, he remembered back to his own qualifying that Aizawa had put him through. The team battles against Vlad's class and how much he had realised he didn't know in that one day. He was so far behind and had worked so hard to catch up but he was still scraping through in some parts even now. How did they expect to make it?

Lightning struck beside Bakugou as he leaped back from his opponent, somehow they always knew where he was, where he was coming from. He couldn't escape it, it's like they had eyes on the back of their head! He could feel his body losing energy, his breathing heavy as threw fist after fist and a kick towards them. They were matched, he'd realised that early, but there was no way their stamina matched. By the heavy breathing of his opponent worse than his he knew they didn't have much longer. One massive explosion at full force would easily do it.

He had to be wary of their defences, one rod had flown away earlier but they still had one left, so a fake was the best way to do it. Distract their attention with one explosion and then come from the side for the stronger blow to hit them out of the ring and end this. Simple, to the point and there was no way it could fail.

It didn't fail. But it wasn't completely successful either. It seems both fighters had come to the same conclusion. Both had reflexes that were similarly matched. They counter attacks were also something to be wary off. Bakugou was able to multitask in fights but through his blast his visibility was limited, add the torrential rain on top and it was even worse. The next time he came at them with an explosion was their opportunity for their own attack.

Bakugou's right hand came down at them with an explosion, their rod lifted to block it as they hit on another. His left hand came from underneath where his opponent had left their body exposed and he hit them in the side with an explosion bigger than his first. At the same time though as they had gone flying into the pillar at the edge of the arena lightning had struck by his landing spot and the shot had thrown him the opposite way hitting his own concrete pillar on the edge.

That was the last thing he'd remembered. They'd both expended their quirks and the blow back caused them to pass out. But surely he won right? His hit first so like, he won the battle. Take that Aizawa your lil prank punishment didn't work, I'm still on top.

Bakugou opened his eyes to the room around him. He was right in his guessing earlier, he was in Recovery Girl's office on a bed where he'd obviously been taken straight form the arena. He sat up slowly, ready to leave this godforsaken place and head back to class to face his victory when he looked to the bed next to him.

Still asleep lay his opposition. He could see her face now, soft and calm as she still slept, her hair plated but falling out as it fell against the pillow and Bakugou had to stop himself from reaching out to the scar on her face from jaw to forehead. It crossed just past her eye, a lightning strike similar to the ones he'd witnessed close up from her own hand. Maybe she was like Kiri, dumb enough to hit herself with her own quirk.

Kinda pretty though..."still a loser extra" he muttered under his breath. She shuffled in the bed, a hand coming up to rub at her eyes as she woke up and saw Bakugou staring down at her as he stood awkwardly between their beds.

A small yelp before she shot up out of the bed and down onto the ground on the other side out of his sight.

"What the fuck was that?" He said walking towards the door.

"WAIT!" She called out and he stopped in the doorway.

"What?!" Let me leave.

"Do you see my helmet?" She asked with her head down at the floor, her back to him. Bakugou looked around the room and couldn't see the golden helmet until he peered into the office and it sat on the a desk by the nurses.

"It's out here, get it yourself." He answered walking out into the offices towards the door to the hallway.

"Please can you just chuck it at me like I do not care I just can't go out and get it if there are people out there."

As he walked past the desk he picked up the helmet from the desk. It was sturdy, barely even marked from their fight par from some dirt and threw it through the door onto the bed beside her. A small 'phew' came from the room but Bakugou was already out the door. "Dumb extra."

"That was AMAZING!" The class was in awe at the fight they had witnessed, just like all of them during the day it showed the true potential and talent of their fellow student. But unlike the others it introduced them to someone they had no idea about. Someone who gave Bakugou Katsuki a run for his money.

"Who were though?" Mina asked.

"Who cares I want to know who won!" Kaminari exclaimed but the class was already being shushed for a debrief by their sensei.

"Everyone shut up." He deadpanned.

"Can we at least know who they were!"

"Are they joining us like Shinso did?!"

"Can I tell them now Shouta?!" Hizashi Yamada a.k.a Present Mic was practically pouncing next to Aizawa who merely pinched the bridge of his nose and sat down.

"Sure."

"SATSUKA YAMADA. QUIRK: THUNDERSTORM. SHE CAN CREATE THUNDERSTORMS AS LONG AS THERE IS MOISTURE IN THE AIR AND THE RAIN ALLOWS HER TO SEE MOVEMENT THROUGH THE STORM. WATCH OUT FOR THOSE LIGHTNING STRIKES BECAUSE IN HER STORMS THEY CAN DEFINITELY HIT TWICE!"

Present Mic, the announcer for UA with his own radio show used his best voice for the quirk announcement of the mystery student. He'd never admit he'd practiced it several times in his head beforehand but that's neither here nor there.

The class erupted in 'wow's and 'awe's excitement running through them at the introduction to new competition. They may be in their final year but the excitement of new quirks and people to train with was one that will always get these students heroes into overdrive.

"Alright now that that's out of the way, let's debrief the day."

"Aizawa sensei, I have a question?!" Todoroki piped up from next to Iida and Midoriya. "If I'm not mistaken, she has the same last name as Present Mic, is she a relation of yours?"

"Hey yea! You're right Todo!" Mina exclaimed, "IS SHE YOUR SECRET LOVE CHILD!"

"Phew, I wish!"

"Hizashi shut up."

"She's family, but not my daughter kids." The hero replied, hoping that would give the class enough of an answer to shut them up.

Satsuka quickly pulled the helmet back over her head and stumbled in a hurry out the door of Recovery Girl's office. Her arms ached from overusing her quirk. Bakugou had really made her work for it but she supposed that was the point. She was there to prove herself to Aizawa and the entirety of Class 3-A. She deserved to be there. No matter what. Even if it was late if she was able to learn even a little from this year that still gave her an advantage to become a hero. And that was the goal.

"You're a lot slower out of class." The deep voice spoke through the quiet of the hallway as she steadied herself, the door closing behind her. "Clumsy too."

Bakugou stepped off the wall opposite her and took lazy steps down the hallway, slight puddles following his foot prints from his soaking costume.

"Now who the fuck are you?" He stopped and looked over her shoulder. Her helmet was back on, he could read any expression on her face and that irked him.

"Satsuka Yamada, I was a guest to training today as a part of my training with Present Mic." She stayed in her spot in the middle of the hall and he mumbled something under his breath that she couldn't make out.

"Yamada...?"

"I'm not his kid, we're family."

"Must be nice being favoured by a pro." He sneered and turned back towards the hall in front of him, his feet moving before he could even think about it.

Satsuka cringed at his comment. That was the one opinion she didn't want people to have about her. But Bakugou couldn't help but think it. No wonder she didn't sit right with him even in the fight. She hasn't worked nearly as hard as him to get where she is. She's just another favoured idiot. Like Deku or Half n half. They had pros in their corners before they even started. Like Shinso she thought that just because a pro thought she was special she could come into his class and think she's top shit. Not on his watch.

"That won't make you a hero." He called back to her before turning the corner and out of her sight.

Previous Chapter ~ Next Chapter

[enchanted-prose]

#10 Renegade Niece

i’m treating myself because I liked writing this and I wrote an impossibly long essay :,)

Word count: 5,294

Characters: Roden, Jaron, Ayvar (Original character), Jamie Todd (Original character), Merry (Original character), Nila

Notes: Edited and my goodness I just loved writing this. Also I forgot to put in lines for the last two submissions and I’m so sorry. There is one important vibe that I’m going to discuss; consider how it feels when your pet begins chewing something they’re no supposed to, and when you tell them to stop, they start chewing faster leaving you no choice but to run at them.

Sleep wasn’t something that Roden excelled at. He fell asleep whenever and wherever he did.

And it just so happened that this time, he’d fallen asleep with his head on his desk.

“Rise and shine!” Bellowed an all too familiar voice, successfully bringing a wave of sound into the once silent office.

Startled, Roden lurched backwards, his chair tipping dangerously backwards until it hit the floor, taking him with it. He shut his eyes. “Good morning Jaron.”

“There’s business to discuss, we can’t have you sleeping.”

“I know, Jaron, I know. Give me a moment, I already have a list of things I need to do.”

Although Jaron was standing at the opposite end of the room, Roden could sense his smug grin. Jaron cleared his throat. “I only wake you this early because I have to ask a favor.”

“And that is?” Roden asked, sincerely hoping it had nothing to do with waxing the hair off of his legs. Jaron had proposed that once, and every member of the king’s circle learned the importance of keeping Jaron occupied with trivial matters in addition to his political duties.

Late morning light glowed all around the room. Roden blinked several times as his head began to plant itself in the waking world. Jaron was dressed in his usual plain clothing, lucky him.

Roden wanted to scrub his teeth clean.

He hated it when he slept in his office.

“I, ah, told Mott to take it easy today because of the events from two nights ago. He has a few reports that need to be looked over and signed.”

“How many reports are there?”

It didn’t actually matter, Roden had every intention of doing them anyways

Jaron scoffed, “I don’t know the answer to that.”

“And when do they need to be finished?”

“Tonight, if possible.”

Roden groaned, and dragged himself to his feet, pulling a piece of paper from his forehead. “Alright, consider them done. But I won’t be able to spar today, Jaron, I have too many things to do.”

“It’s not a problem,” Jaron scratched the back of his head. He looked tired. “Feall is convinced that we have a vital playing piece in our custody, the girl who was captured the night he was attacked.”

The details from that night were still fresh in Roden’s mind.

He went over them as often as he could, always trying to find connections. The girl who’d been taken into custody, a member of the Faola, was somebody Roden had met before. She’d been in the Vaults one night when Roden was on patrol, and allegedly she was assisting another member of her gang in saving a trio of children from a horrific fate.

She’d told him her name: Ayvar.

Ayvar with scarlet hair who bent the rules to help other people.

It was hard to believe that somebody who would brave the Vaults would be driven to cut the head off of another human being.

There was something not quite right about the situation.

“I can see smoke coming out of your ears, are you thinking?”

“Shut up, Jaron.”

“Definitely thinking. Be careful, it’s dangerous.”

“Thank you for your concern,” Roden pinched the bridge of his nose for a split second. “Have you received any information about Queen Danika’s representatives?”

Hesitation visibly weighed on Jaron’s every move. He finally nodded. “They’ve been combing through nearby towns, and will be here tomorrow. I suspect that they will want to interview the girl who attacked Feall.”

“I told Amarinda she was allowed to visit Ayvar if she wanted, I think she’d have more progress than a group of investigators.”

“Good move, is it wrong to say I’m curious about the results?”

“So long as nobody is hurt in the process, I think it’s fine to want to know how it all ends,” Roden gestured to the door. “I’m going to check on her if you’d like to come with me.”

“Amarinda? I don’t think she’d like to be-”

“Ayvar, I meant. I’d be responsible if something happened to her.”

Jaron stepped out of Roden’s office, and combed his hand through his unruly hair. “You think she’s innocent?”

“I try to believe everyone isn’t as bad as everyone says until it can be proven true,” Roden shrugged. He rubbed his eyes.

The dungeons in the castle were odd, particularly because they provided a decent amount of space in each cell. Roden had seen all too many dungeons crafted out of caves and tunnels only big enough for a child. The scent of moldy food was a smell Roden would never come to appreciate. Jaron laughed at him when he stepped away from the mangy guard dog.

There was no telling what would happen if the mongrel bit him.

Roden tried not to think about how he’d die, but he certainly didn’t want his cause of death to be because of a nasty, dirty mutt.

Ayvar had been placed in the last cell. She’d braided her flaming hair around her head, likely to keep it out of the dirt. When Roden and Jaron approached, she sat straight up, her hands cradling her knees to her chest.

“Everything been alright?” Roden asked, crossing his arms over his chest.

“I suppose,” Ayvar frowned. “I’d rather not be here.”

“I’d rather that you didn’t attack my friends.” Jaron’s biting tone caused her to flinch.

“You don’t really think I was stupid enough to do that, right?”

“I’ve seen plenty of people doing stupid things.”

Roden nodded in agreement. Just the other day, he’d watched Merry shove herself into a barrel and roll off of a bridge into the Roving River. He’d also seen Jaron almost get away with sledding down the grand staircase in the throne room. However, Mott had been there to save the day.

But that unfortunately didn’t stop Jaron from trying to do it again.

Ayvar scowled, “It. Wasn’t. Me.”

“But you were there,” Roden pointed out.

“I was there because I didn’t think the plan would go through!”

“So you knew there was a plan. Who thought of it, if it wasn’t you?”

“I-,” Ayvar jumped to her feet, fire blazing in her eyes. “It’s probably a false name. Goes by all sorts of nicknames, we started calling her Patches. But the arbitrator is a woman, like me.”

“I hate false names,” Jaron mused.

“Ironic,” Roden noted.

"You have to believe me when I say that I wasn't responsible," Ayvar's voice was rising. "I don't care what anyone else says, it wasn't my fault!"

Her voice echoed through the dungeon, and received a bark of disapproval from the guard hound.

Jaron inhaled, "If what you say is true, then we'll release you, I can promise you that."

"It is true and I'll prove it. If Harlowe won't listen to me, then I'll go to Feall. He and I fought our patched enemy together."

"I do recall you saying your patched enemy was actually your friend, at one point," Roden noted. He was still getting used to having a surname to claim.

"That's not true anymore, otherwise I  wouldn't have been left in here."

"I'm sorry."

"I don't want your pity."

"Then you won't get our company either," Jaron shot back as he walked away from Ayvar's cell.

Roden stared at Ayvar, but left before she could throw any words at him. She went back to sitting in the corner, and said nothing as footsteps rang through the quiet dungeon.

A courtier was waiting for them halfway down the steps, and promptly dragged Jaron away to attend a meeting with King Oberson. Roden seized his chance to return to his chambers and scrub his teeth and face.

He'd almost managed to shave when he heard the clatter of stones from the courtyard.

Through his window, Roden could see a group of pock marked boys, their sizes varying, but their intentions the same: Torment Ayvar by throwing insults and rocks into her cell.

Abandoning the razor, Roden left his chambers, tugged a doublet over his head, and prepared himself for shooing away a gaggle of bored brats.

Too much had happened during the past few weeks. The stone-throwing boys were added to Roden's long long list of things that annoyed him.

One of the boys stood out from the rest, Jamie Todd. He'd thrown the first stone. Roden recognized him. Jamie was among the boys who were desperately hoping to somehow gain a knighthood. Hoping to mean something more.

That wouldn't happen so long as he was throwing stones at a girl in a cell.

Was having a little bit of peace in the courtyard too much to ask?

A loud whoop erupted from the boys, one of the stones had probably found its mark. Jamie waved his arms above his head as he did an odd victory dance. They'd been clever enough to draft up a little song:

When Daftie Ayvie passed away,

Whadya think they done?

Chopped her up a fishin’ bait:

Copper for a ton!

Devils have the guards on patrol who let the stones be-

A newcomer had joined the group. A girl. A head shorter than half of the boys. Much shorter than Jamie Todd, who was almost the size of Mott.

Mangled hair, holes in her chemise's shoulders. Merry had come to pick a bone.

"Fe-fi-fo fum!" Merry jabbed her finger at Jamie. "I smell the stink of a big boy's bum!"

"Hey!" Jamie cried, all of his attention glued to Merry.

Roden should have seen it coming.

Merry jabbed her elbow into Jamie's stomach, and down, down, down he went. The other boys scrambled away as Merry grabbed Jamie by the ears.

"She's going to tear them clean off!"

"Get some help!"

"My ears! Don't! You'll rip them-!

"Can't help it! Your ears are wonderfully handy!" Merry taunted. "They're like mug handles!"

Roden dashed across the courtyard as Merry slammed Jamie's head into the ground, resulting in his howls echoing across the courtyard. She triumphantly demanded an apology for throwing stones at Ayvar, but none came.

"Somebody help me!" Jamie bellowed, moments before Merry cracked her head against his.

"See the lovely stars, Jamie!"

"She's kilt me!"

"You're going to wish you'd been kilt you mangy, slimy, son of a-!"

In Merry's hubris, she'd forgotten about pinning down Jamie's hands. He swung his fist into the side of her head. Although she wobbled, she didn't topple over.

"I see a bit of brains dribbling-!" Smack! "-out of your ear!"

"Get off of me! Help! She's kilt me!"

"Pity your mother didn't cook you longer," Merry snipped, prepping to bash Jamie's head into the cobblestones again.

Roden finally managed to wedge his arms between Merry and Jamie, while Lieutenant Alistair picked up Merry by the waist, and dragged her off of Jamie. Roden nodded his thanks as Merry cursed and kicked and Jaimie wept as he covered his ears. He was convinced that his brain was bleeding out from his nose.

"I'll take care of the kids," Roden noted, motioning to the large fountain in the middle of the courtyard.

"Yes sir!" Alistair boomed as he somehow managed to keep Merry from escaping to beat the other boys as well.

"Stand up," said Roden as he let go of Jaimie. He then instructed him to follow his finger as he moved it back and forth in front of Jamie's eyes.

He wasn't sure how rattled Jamie's  brains were.

"I'm kilt," he wailed. "I'm a member of the undead. I’ll never be a knight now!"

"Not quite, but I hope you've learned something."

"I learned that I hate girls!"

"You'll have a lonely life then, I suppose. Don't throw stones at people worse off than you Jamie, it's not what a knight would do."

Jamie wiped his nose, which had finally stopped bleeding. "I'm- I'm sorry we were- we were just bored."

"Don't apologize to me. You have my permission to be inspected by the castle physician. I'll have my lieutenant escort you."

If he hadn't just been smacked around, Roden was certain Jamie would've fallen to his knees with gratitude. Speaking to the captain of the guard and being around Sir Alistair Derforgall in one day? It was any aspiring soldier's dream.

Roden had been in those shoes once. Idolizing Carthya's heroes.

But you couldn't be a hero and throw stones at prisoners in cells.

Alistair had seated Merry on the edge of the fountain. She crossed her arms. “I’m too angry to give a genuine apology right now, but I do feel bad, so I’m sorry. Give me a few hours before I have to say it to Jamie. I don’t like giving empty apologies.”

“Weren’t you just telling me about being safe while throwing a punch?” Roden asked.

“That’s because I’d- gah, don’t remind me.”

“Aren’t you supposed to be at the Dragon’s Keep?”

“Ayvar is my friend, I came to check on her,” Merry shrugged. “Dawn gave me twenty minutes, but I’ve used up that time in, ah, not very smart ways. Did you forget to shave?”

Roden held completely still as Merry trailed both of her fingers across his stubbled face. “I was in a hurry.”

“I kind of like it.”

“Really?”

“I mean, I just like you, shaved or unshaved.”

“You’re a grisly sight. Best mop you up before you return,” he grinned. Roden then pointed to his left eyebrow, where a long, thin scar started just above his eyebrow and dipped down to the top of his cheekbone. “I’ve had a few head wounds myself.”

A smile tugged at Merry’s mouth, and she visibly tried to fight it with a frown. “I suppose we’ll match.”

“We’ll have to see.”

“There’s no point to life if I don’t have a scar that makes people wonder if I’m secretly a pirate.”

“Are you secretly a pirate?” Roden pulled a spare handkerchief from his doublet pocket, “I suppose it’s my turn to clean you up, would you prefer your own spit or fountain water?”

“I’d prefer your spit, actually.”

“I’m going to pretend like you didn’t say that.”

“Because it makes you uncomfortable?”

“Quite the contrary, I think there’s a better way to exchange spit than-,” Roden cleared his throat. “I take that back. It does make me uncomfortable.”

It seemed that Merry was uncomfortable too. Her face had gone redder than the blood dripping from the cut on her forehead. “I’ll take water. It’s, ah, really warm.”

She was right, the summer morning sun was beating down on the two of them. Roden cupped the unbloodied side of her face as gingerly as he could. He wet the cloth, knelt on the ground in front of her, and forced himself not to grin as he began wiping the blood off of her forehead.

The frown faltered.

“So,” Merry said.

It wasn’t exactly a question, it was more of an invitation. There was no obligation for Roden to say anything if he wanted to. He was allowed to speak about anything that he chose to do. He could talk about the situation with Ayvar. He could talk about how his niece, Nila, wanted to have a picnic for her tenth birthday and that he didn’t know what to get her. He could talk about how he’d begun to see his childhood friend’s death in his dreams.

How he feared that there was something hiding in plain sight.

Something awful.

She was giving him a choice.

And that made him want to tell her everything.

“I have extra reports I need to file tonight,” Roden said as he wet a new portion of his handkerchief. “But I’ve spent too much time in my office. Makes me lonely.”

“Don’t your friends pay attention to you?” Merry arched her unbloodied eyebrow.

He shrugged, “From time to time. They don’t tell me colorful stories about fish hitting my face.”

That made her smile.

“By the way, I never thanked you for the coin you gave me. Where’s it from? I don’t recognize the design.”

“It’s from my home, but it’s not accepted here. Figured I’d give you a trinket. Have you considered getting a pet mountain cat to keep you company?”

“Unfortunately, the royal mountain cat keeper is fresh out of them.”

Merry’s eyes drifted shut, and Roden did his best not to think of the way her body relaxed as he continued supporting her. “Why not come to the Dragon’s Keep? It’s the slowest day of the week, I can help you. I can even promise extra lemon cream tarts.”

“Would I have to share?”

“With me, of course.”

“Promises you’ll make sure it’s a fair share?”

Merry pressed a bruised hand to her heart, “I never lie, Captain Harlowe.”

He hoped she didn’t see his ears beginning to burn. Roden managed to clear away the drying blood on Merry’s face, and ordered the nearest page to get strips of gauze. “I, ah, I’m going to make sure the wound doesn’t bleed through. Is that alright?”

“I only ask that you make me look as much like a plague victim as possible,” Merry was fiddling with her hands.

“I’ll see what I can do.”

To his surprise, when Roden drew away from Merry’s face, she pressed his hand back into place. “No wait, I’m hoping I can siphon away your extreme battle abilities.”

“Not quite sure how true that is.”

“I told you before, I don’t lie.”

“Not quite sure how true that is either.”

Once again, her face flushed bright red. Merry shoved his hand away, “Thanks, ah, uh, thanks for helping me.”

“It’s only fair.” Roden scratched the back of his neck.The page returned with a small roll of gauze. Roden began setting strips of it on the horizontal gash on Merry’s forehead. “You should probably come up with a story about why you look like a plague victim.”

“I’m thinking that I had three eyes at one point, but I tragically lost my third eye while hunting for a golden potato.”

“Not quite what I was expecting, but I’ll take it. Is there more to it?”

“Do you like hearing me talk, Captain?”

“I’ve told you it’s alright to call me by my name,” Roden said, deftly avoiding her question.

She patted the side of his face, “Captain, my friend, at one point I had a third eye, and it helped me see into the ground. I could find all sorts of buried treasure, making me the most valued person in the Eranbole sea. . .”

Words of third eyes and buried treasure fell short on Roden’s ears. As Merry continued weaving her grand story about pirates and sea monsters, his gaze fell on a curious mark on her bare shoulder.

A jagged scar.

As he finished setting the last piece of gauze on Merry’s cut, he found himself brushing his thumb over the scar, wondering where it came from.

Scars carried stories, whether good or bad.

What had Merry done to get a scar on her shoulder? There were others near it, many of them were hiding underneath her printed chemise. Marks of the past. All pale and pink against her skin.

Merry went completely silent, and Roden flinched once he realized what he’d done.

Don’t look, don’t look, don’t look.

Devils have him. Roden looked right at Merry’s crimson face, stared right at those mausoleum grey eyes.

Don’t be the first to look away, don’t be the first to look away-

Suddenly the cobblestones became very interesting.

“I, ah, I’m-,” she stuttered, both of her hands going to tug on her earlobes.

Roden all but jumped to his feet, “I have to go now.”

“I don’t think so, I’m not quite finished with our conversation.”

Roden rubbed the back of his neck, desperate to be away from his mistake.

But he couldn’t bring himself to walk away.

“Treat me like a princess, Roden, please,” Merry said, bouncing back from the awkward moment. She held out her hand, palm down, expectant.

A series of scars were visible on her third and fourth fingers, just below the nails. Roden forced himself not to look too long, and took Merry by the hand, “My apologies, lady.”

In a grand motion, Merry waved her hand across the open air, “No apologies are needed sir knight. You’ll find I am quite spotted all over, and not from freckles.”

“I’m really sorry if-,” He began, but Merry was one step ahead of him.

“No, no, don’t be sorry, it’s really alright. I got that scar as a child. My favorite method of travel was jumping rock to rock, and I missed my target once.”

“I’m sure all toads everywhere envied your skill.”

“Oh they did, trust me, they did. I’d ah, I’d tell you more . . But you’ll have to forgive me for leaving so soon, Dawn’s going to have my head if I’m late.”

He didn’t want to admit that he didn’t like watching her leave. 

----------------------------------------------

Nila sat on his desk, swinging her legs. Her long golden hair had been pinned on her head, and yet despite the obvious effort that had been put into it, several strands had managed to escape. Dirt stains pooled at her elbows.

She was doing a wondrous job holding a stack of papers for Roden.

“I found a cool feather today, but I dropped it in the river,” Nila mused, a slight frown appearing on her rosy face. “It had stripes.”

“A striped feather, you say?” Roden made a face.

“Black and white, I thought it would look cool as a mast for a stick ship, but I got so excited about it, I dropped it.”

“Then I’ll have to help you find another one.”

Nila tapped her boot heel against the desk, “I’m free on every second day of the week, but only in the afternoons. I can fit you into my schedule.”

“You have a schedule now, do you?” He caught himself chuckling. “I would gladly take any available time that I can.”

Everywhere, there were reports hiding. Roden managed to gather all of Mott’s reports, but unfortunately, had managed to lose track of half of his own. He pawed through every drawer he could, every shelf and cabinet.

If it weren���t for Nila keeping track of what had been found and what hadn’t, he would’ve wasted much more time.

How could he let himself get so disorganized?

Roden ran his hands through his hair, “I think that’s all we’re going to find.”

“I can take a turn looking,” Nila offered. She grinned, a pair of dimples making their appearance. “You’ve obviously got something else on your mind.”

“I don’t- I, ah, everything’s under control.”

Although everything didn’t really feel like it was under control. Roden once again ran his hands through his hair, thinking of anything he might’ve missed. Several hours had passed since he’d last seen Merry. It wouldn’t be long before sunset.

“Are you meeting somebody?” Asked Nila, her boot beating out a new rhythm. “Are you going on patrol again?”

“No, no,” Roden said, walking from his desk to the door. “I mean, yes, I’m going to be with a friend of mine. No patrolling for me though, that’s tomorrow night.”

“That’s interesting. Much more interesting than my evening, anyway.”

“I thought you had a busy schedule, sounds pretty exciting to me.”

“Being busy doesn’t mean I’m having fun. Where are you going?”

“Sounds like you’re planning on trying to come with me. . .”

Nila frowned as deeply as she could. “I’m just asking!”

As he paced back and forth, Roden smiled. He was walking to the beat of Nila’s boot hitting the desk. That drew a grin out of her once he mentioned it to her.

He loved being with Nila. She was charming and bursting with life, and made his day a little bit brighter. In time, he saw her as more of a little sister than a niece.

There were many things Roden would always regret.

Things like never knowing his dead brother; Nila’s father.

Too many opportunities had been lost, and Roden was determined not to lose any more precious moments. He’d been cheated out of years and years of memories.

It was time to make new ones.

But he wasn’t sure if taking a ten year old girl to a tavern was one of them.

“Please, please, please, please, please take me with you,” Nila begged. “I don’t want to have to take tea with Lady Orlaine’s whatever they are.”

“Lady Orlaine’s wards?” Roden offered.

“Yes! Them! They’re mean to me, dreadfully boring too. I call them the Greys. Because they make everything grey around them, get it?”

Roden took the numerous papers from Nila and shoved them into a satchel. He’d have to depend on Merry for ink, he didn’t trust himself not to spill any as he walked across Drylliad.

He wouldn’t be able to know if the Dragon’s Keep was truly empty until he got there, and he’d rather not risk taking Nila to a place not quite appropriate for a child.

She took the rejection well, however, Roden wished he’d been able to bring her with him.

The regret was even worse the moment Roden stepped into the Dragon's Keep, only to find that it was as empty as Merry claimed it was.

Aside from the old man strumming a lute in the corner, the only sound was a ghost of a conversation from the back.

Dawn was behind the counter, her grey streaked hair piled into a bun on top of her head.

Another barmaid was sitting in the corner beside a young man. No sign of Merry.

"Captain! It's nice to see you!" Dawn called, waving her cloth in greeting.

"It's nice to be here," Roden countered with a smile.

She turned around, and retrieved a large tankard, "Are you looking for a drink?"

"Oh! No, no, I'm looking for a person, actually. It's Merry, actually, she wanted to talk."

"I'm sure she did, I'm sure she did. Merry! It's rude to keep a guest waiting!"

The conversation grew louder, louder, louder, until finally, Merry came strutting out. She’d changed her chemise, this one was green and hid her scarred shoulder. A patterned scarf rested neatly over her hair and behind her ears.

She pointed at the mass of gauze on her head, “Still in one piece!”

“I’m not surprised, you can hold your own,” Roden grinned. Now comfortable, he set his paper filled satchel on the wooden countertop, and perched on a tall stool.

“You should see her fight a door, it’s quite frightening,” teased Dawn.

“They are the bane of my existence.” Merry stared hard at the front door, and shook her fist at it before bursting into a series of snickers.

“A truly noble quest.”

Merry snatched a used tankard, and began scrubbing at the insides. Her smile faltered, “How’s Jamie Todd?”

“He’s alright, just a little concerned that he was caught throwing stones at a person.”

“Good, that’s good. You sure he’s fine?”

“Saw him myself a few hours ago,” Roden said. He retrieved a few reports, and set them on the counter. “Do you have-?”

“Ink? Right here,” Merry reached below the counter. “And we have a variety of writing tools to choose from too.”

“Don’t use the quill!” Dawn ordered from the other end of the bar. The door opened and closed. “Take care of that guest!”

The glass Merry had been scrubbing at clinked against the counter. Her brows screwed together, “I’ll take care of it.”

“What are you-,” Roden began, but Merry snapped her fingers near his face. He brushed her hands away, “I know, I know, I need to get my work done.”

“I’ll check back in on you in a moment, have that other guest to see,” Merry leaned over the bar, and smoothed her hand over Roden’s head.

He glared at the first report waiting to be finished. Check the details. Signature here, signature there. Next report. Check the details. Signature here, signature there, and so on and so forth. He caught a few snippets from Merry’s conversation with the new guest.

Something about lemon cream tarts.

Saints, he really wanted one of-

No! He had to do a report first!

Report first, tart later!

Merry set a hand on his shoulder, “Your handwriting.”

“I know, I know, it’s messy,” Roden shrugged.

“I was going to say that I like it, sir knight.”

Oh.

She disappeared behind the bar, reappearing moments later with a lemon cream tart in each hand. Roden received his first, much to his delight, and technically, he did manage to finish two reports.

He deserved a tart.

“-I completely understand! Court life is horrifically boring,” Merry said, her voice barely audible above the lute strings.

“I’m glad somebody gets it!” Chirped the guest, their voice oddly familiar.

But not familiar enough to draw his attention away from his blasted reports.

The lemon cream tart made it easier to bear.

Snippets of the conversation still drifted into Roden’s atmosphere. Merry laughed, “And is there anything else I can get you?”

“No thank you, but I do appreciate that you asked me,” came the reply.

And then Merry’s hand was back on his shoulder, asking him if there was anything she could do to help. Unless she was good at forgery, there wasn’t much she could do.

Roden scribbled through report after report, firmly aware that Merry was watching his every move.

He managed to finish the tart just as he finished his first pile of reports.

“And onto the next one,” Roden mumbled.

“Ah, ah, ah, take a tiny break, Captain,” Merry chided. She set her hands on Roden’s, “One stack is worth a victory celebration.”

“Do I get another tart?”

“Possibly, unless you’d prefer a pie.”

Pies were good, when baked properly.

Merry’s hands were cool on his palms.

Cool on his battle torn hands.

They fit too well in his own. A little too nicely. It was impossible to timidly turn his palms up, impossible not to hold Merry’s rough fingers.

He supposed he preferred that to a tart.

And a pie.

“Why are you holding hands with him?” Asked the other guest from right behind Roden.

He jumped, his eyes flying to the voice’s owner.

Only to find Nila with a little bit of lemon cream still on her top lip.

“Oh, uh, because-,” Merry stuttered, however, Roden had a better prepared retort.

“What are you doing here?”

Nila shrugged, “I was bored, so I followed you.”

“And you saw her come in, but didn’t tell me?” Roden asked, turning his attention to Merry.

She made a face, and clasped her hands behind her back. “I only did what I was told.”

“I wanted to surprise you, mostly so I could prove that it’s perfectly acceptable for me to go with you to things,” Nila pointed out. She clambered onto the stool beside Roden. “And I’m very helpful. I can read through your reports. All you’d have to do is sign.”

“Doesn’t mean you’d understand what’s going on,” noted Roden.

“That’s not important, all that matters is that everything is spelled correctly.”

Merry nodded, “She does have a point.”

A smile spread across his face, and no matter how hard he tried, he couldn’t be rid of it, but he did manage to contain it to a slight smirk.

He handed a stack of papers to Nila.

Every so often, Roden glanced up to make sure Merry was still near, and watched as she cleaned tankard after tankard.

She beamed at him each time she caught him looking.

And all he could think about was the way her cool hands felt when they rested on his own.

[xfandomwritingsx]

Scars - F!Hawke/Varric

Description: 5 times Hawke's clothes came off. (A prequel of sorts to Reuniting. Not necessary to read Reuniting to read this.)

Warnings/Labels: Nakedness? No smut. The smallest mentions of depression? Really there aren’t many warnings here.

Approx. Word Count: 3,400

A/N: I posted this on AO3 a while ago but figured I’d post it here too.

1. The first time Hawke stripped out of her clothes in front of him was down in the Deep Roads. It had been at least a week since Bartrand had trapped them down there and they’d wandered into a heat pocket. The sweltering heat slowed their pace even more than the quickly growing hunger did. Carver looked the worst of them all, but the rest of them weren’t fairing much better.

They’d stopped traveling to take a break, the entire group’s energy level draining. Isabela leaned down to Carver as he sat and propped himself against a stone, trying to get him to drink a little more water. Varric watched as they argued about it quietly and wiped his sleeve along his forehead.

Hawke stood off to the side of him. He watched her slip her staff off of her back and set it on the ground. Her long, black hair was tied up messily on top of her head with one of his spare hair bands he’d given her when she’d lost hers over the edge of a bridge. He caught himself staring blankly at her, dehydration making his vision a little fuzzy and tired.

His vision cleared again when he noticed her unbuttoning her robe.

“Uhh, Hawke?” he called out curiously as he approached her. “You okay?” She had an angry, frustrated look painted on her face. She ignored him completely as she opened the robe down to her waist and shrugged it off her shoulders.

“It’s way too hot for this,” she told him bitterly. She tied the sleeves around her waist, effectively making her robe a bulky skirt and leaving her top in only her breast binding. The relief was minimal, but she sighed happily anyways.

“Is that the best idea?” It wasn’t that he had a problem with her lack of clothing. He wasn’t a man to blush at a little pale flesh presented in front of him, but he did worry it wasn’t the best choice for their situation. “There’s still a whole lot of darkspawn roaming around down here.” She shot a sideways glance at him.

“A lecture about armor?” she snapped at him a little rougher than she meant. “Coming from the man who leaves nothing but skin and chest hair between a blade and his heart?” He chuckled at her and nodded.

“Point taken.” A small smile tempted her face and her irritation seemed to fade.

“Although, it’d probably be best if you watched my back instead of Isabela for now.” She threw a look over her shoulder at her and Carver before looking at Varric again. “I don’t think I can handle her staring and making comments about my rippling back muscles.”

“So, I shouldn’t stand behind you and narrate every graceful movement?” he teased. Her laugh may have been dry, but it was good to hear nonetheless. She leaned down to pick up her staff, turning just enough for him to see the small, deep gash on the back of her shoulder. “You should clean that,” he mentioned. She didn’t even look up.

“With what? The little drinking water we have?” She shrugged before standing back up. “I brush the dirt off it once in a while and that’s about as good as it’ll get for now.” He twisted her neck in an attempt to look at it before conceding she couldn’t bend that way. “Scars are sexy anyways, right?”

“Well I was more worried about impending death due to infection, but I see where your concerns lie.” They smiled at each other and Hawke threw a friendly wink in his direction before walking towards her brother to aid Isabela’s cause to hydrate him.

2. “I do believe you owe me an article of clothing,” Isabela gloated, laying her cards down on the table.  She had been cheating, which Varric suspected she did at least ninety percent of the time, but this time he actually saw the cards hidden in her bodice. He kept his mouth shut though. He wasn’t actually partaking in the festivities this time.

The group of them had been down by the bar for their usual night of Wicked Grace, but a small lot of them had somehow inhabited his room after hours to continue on with more risqué rules. He’d had enough ale to know he was going to be sloppy and enough sense to decline the invite. He didn’t need to end up in his smallclothes in front of everyone tonight. Maybe another time. For now, he sat at his desk alternating between watching them and trying to write.

“Alright, alright.” Hawke was already lacking her tunic shirt and her boots and the table was clearly interested in seeing what she was going to choose to remove next. Varric noticed Ander’s eyes do a once over on her chest binding and he chuckled to himself. Blondie wasn’t as subtle as he thought he was. (Though subtly wasn’t exactly needed since Hawke had made direct eye contact with him when she lifted the tunic over her head earlier.)

“What’s it going to be, Hawke?” Fenris asked. Varric admitted, it was nice to see the guy enjoy a good time once in a while. He found his attention was drawn to the table, curious himself to see how this played out.

Hawke had a wicked smile on her face which only enthralled the group more. Isabela rested on her elbows, leaning forward towards the woman across the table from her. One of these days she was just going to end up crawling across the top of it, Varric believed. He just hoped it was on one downstairs instead of his personal one.

Hawke leaned back and slid her hands under the table. Her eyes danced between her three opponents who waited with a high amount of anticipation. From Varric’s angle, he was the only who could see that, despite her wiggling of her hips and act of difficulty, the only thing she was doing, was pulling a piece of clothing out of her pocket. He had to bite his tongue to keep the grin off his face.

With one last show of bending at the waist, as though she was freeing clothing from her lower half, she lifted her hand with pride and dangled a pair men’s underwear. They were slim shorts that would have hung low on her lips had she actually worn them, the waist being too wide. The group was shocked and impressed at her maneuver, missing her deception entirely. Hawke triumphantly tossed the underwear onto the middle of the table as the questions started pouring in.

“How did you do that?” A confused Fenris.

“Whose are they?” Anders trying to hide his jealousy.

“Are they comfortable? They look comfortable.” Isabela already picking them up and inspecting them.

It took Varric a few more moments than it would have sober to realize that the underwear displayed on the table, that had been hidden away in Hawke’s pocket for Maker knows how long, were in fact his. The grin he had slowly fell off, melting into confusion. When had she gotten those? He could tell they were clean (thank the Maker) but how did she get them? Hawke looked at him from the corner of her eye and gave him a quick wink. It didn’t matter he supposed. The bafflement of the party was entertaining enough to let them keep his underwear.

Hawke put a stop to the game after that, knowing that if they kept going, she’d be forced to end up removing her bottoms which would reveal that she had not been wearing those underwear and would unravel her entire rouse. She waited until everyone vacated before handing them back to Varric.

“I grabbed them from your drawer when I went to the bathroom,” she explained for him.

“You mean you aren’t a crazy stalker? Well now I’m disappointed,” he teased, putting his underwear on his desk and making a mental note to wash them again. “Put a shirt on before you leave.” He wouldn’t be surprised if she forgot in her state and started wandering the Lowtown streets without it.

“Yes, yes, fine.” It took her a moment to find it and during her search, his eyes glanced over her body. Her time in Kirkwall had peppered her skin with imperfections. Dark spots, bruises, small scars. It suited her appearance. “Are you leering Serah Tethras?” she teased, words slurring just slightly.

“Told you, you should have cleaned it.” He pointed to the small scar on the back of her shoulder. Really, he was surprised that was the only physically mark remaining from their time in the deep roads. Could have been worse.

“And I thought I told you, scars are sexy.” She wiggled her shoulders in an overly exaggerated way and he wasn’t sure if the absurdity of it was on purpose or simply ale fueled. Either way, he chuckled.

“Get your ass home to bed.”

3. Blood was everywhere. Her blood was everywhere. Varric willed his hands to stay still as Fenris and Anders carried her. It was a wonder how she was still alive, let alone conscious and making smartass remarks. He walked swiftly in front of them, ushering a path and trying desperately not to stare at her blood on his hands.

The Arishok had stabbed her clear through her middle in a last ditch attempted to win their duel. Varric had felt his entire body go weak and numb, watching her hoisted up on his blade. He, like everyone else, thought for sure that was it. That was the end of Hawke, the end of his best friend. Against all odds, she somehow not only survived, but triumphed. He suspected Anders did something, sent some subtle healing spell her way or something, but he didn’t know. He didn’t particularly care right then either.

They laid her on a cot in Ander’s clinic and she made a joke about them jostling her to cop a feel. No one so much as smiled. Blondie’s hands were all over her in an instant, feeling and prodding, making her wince. Everyone was surrounding her bed, but Varric made sure he stood at her head, out of the way, but closer enough to tear off his glove and hold her hand. Her skin was cold.

“So, when you tell this story,” she said to him, holding weakly onto his hand. “You better make it sound epic.” He coughed out a laugh for her benefit and started stroking her hair.

“Chuckles, I won’t even have to exaggerate,” he assured. “This is crazier than the Ogre.” She smiled, coughed, and then winced. Anders was tearing at her robes, trying to open them to see the wound, but wasn’t getting very far.

“Move,” Isabela commanded, quickly unsheathing a blade from her bodice and pushing her way up to Hawke. She sliced open the thick robes right down the middle in a single motion, the tattered edges billowing away from Hawke’s body in the places where the blood hadn’t soaked through. The fabric stuck to the wound and Anders had to carefully peel it away.

Everyone breathed a sigh of relief when it was revealed that she hadn’t been speared straight through the middle. It was slightly off to the right, which probably managed to save her life. Varric held onto her hand tighter and brought her knuckles to his lips.

“She’s going to be okay,” Anders said, mostly to himself as he worked. “She’s going to be okay.”

“Hear that?” Varric asked her. Her eyes were bright as she looked at him and that, more than Ander’s words, gave him a feeling of hope. “You’ll be fine.” She opened her mouth to say something, but hands pressed on her and she cringed.

“I have to…” Anders faltered in his words. “Her breast bind.” A bloody hand pointed to the dirty wrappings. “It’s in the way.” Hawke’s eyes rolled upwards and she groaned. “Alright, everyone out.” His voice dropped into that commanding tone and with quick kisses and touches of affection, everyone started filing out without question.

Varric went to take his leave as well, but when he went to release her hand, she just held on tighter. He and Anders exchanged a single look and they both knew he wasn’t going anywhere. Anders nodded briefly before turning his attention to her breast bind. And Maker, was he slow and ginger about it. Varric knew he’d seen her naked before and now was no time to be shy about it.

“You are not to exaggerate those,” Hawke teased, giving his hand a weak, but playful squeeze. Anders was finally done with her binding and Varric made sure to keep watching her eyes, partly out of decency, but mostly to make sure she was still okay.

“Well now you’re just being stingy.” He really didn’t feel like teasing her, but he’d do anything to keep her smiling right then. “What good is a story without a busty heroine?”

“You have my full permission to make Bethany extra voluptuous.” The smile faded just a little bit. “She died a hero.” She looked away from him and looked up instead, wincing again. He saw the glisten of tears in her eyes. “Carver’s dead too. And Mother.” He patted her hand and ran his thumb over her skin.

“How about I make sure to give Carver the juiciest chest of all of you?” That seemed to pull her back to him, the smile slipping back onto her face.

“This next part is going to hurt. A lot,” Anders warned. “I think it might be time to put you to sleep. You’ll need the rest anyways.” Varric saw a flash of fear in her eyes and he squeezed her hand.

“We’ll be right here when you wake up,” he promised because by the Maker, she would wake up. She took a deep breath before looking down at Anders and nodding. When he came up the table to place a kiss on her lips, Varric looked away to give them privacy. He would have stepped back completely, but her hand still clutched his and he wasn’t about to let go.

Anders pulled back and gave her a flask filled with what Varric assumed was the potion to make her sleep. She grimaced when she drank from it and sputtered through a cough, but she got it down.

She gave Varric one last smile before her eyes fell shut.

4. Two main things led to Hawke stripping away all her clothes and climbing into Varric’s bed. The first being she was very drunk. The second being that she was sad and lonely, practically bordering on depressed, though she would never admit it.

Anders had abandoned her again that night, something he was making a habit of doing which in turn was making Varric want to punch him in the mouth. He didn’t know what was going on with that guy, but he was dragging Hawke down into his moping and Varric didn’t like it. So, he never denied her when she showed up at his door alone, that night being no exception.

Either Corff’s drinks were extra strong or she had drunk more than he’d realized because she by the late hours of the evening, Hawke was stumbling through his room and slurring her words. Usually her drunkenness was something of amusement, but tonight she had a sad, empty look in her glassy eyes that made Varric sink.

“Do I need to leave?” she asked as she plopped herself down onto his bed. She didn’t ask out of courtesy, but rather a suppressed desire for validation. She wanted someone, anyone, to tell her she was welcome and wanted. Varric smiled softly at her before crouching down in front of her and unlacing her boots.

“Chuckles, there is no way I’m letting you leave this room tonight.” She returned his smile and helped wiggle her feet free from the confines of her boots. “If we put aside the fact that you’d probably end up passed out in an alleyway if you tried to get home, I would be greatly offended that you thought my company not fit to remain in anymore.” He could tell she wasn’t quite following his words, the sound of his voice probably a little wishy-washy and broken in her drunken head, but that was okay. The point was that she knew she could stay.

He tossed her boots aside and left to straighten up his desk a little. He heard her shuffling about and when he turned around, she was stark naked and crawling under his covers. Varric averted his eyes to the ceiling and held back a laugh, but before unintentionally noticing that the intimate parts of her skin were much paler than he thought.

“What-chya doing there, Hawke?” He heard her say something in response, but her face was already buried into a pillow and her voice was too muffled to understand. “Yes, of course. Makes perfect sense,” he muttered to himself, chancing a look back towards her. She was covered for the most part, sprawled on her stomach with the covers up to around the middle of her back.

Normally, he would have just made up his little cot on the floor like he used to do when she spent the night, before she insisted he could share the bed, but her war hound (if one would even call that slobbering doofus of a dog a war hound) had destroyed it with copious amounts of drool. He toyed with the idea of getting into bed next to her. It wouldn’t be that absurd, but there was some kind of line he felt he would be crossing, even if he wasn’t sure exactly what it was.

So, instead he settled for his desk chair. He could make do for one night. He paused to look at her before swiping his pillow from his bed. She was already passed out, snoring softly. He smiled lightly at her, finding a comfort in the simple look of peace on her face. He didn’t even care if it had been the ale or his company that put her at such ease. The woman deserved it.

He pulled a spare blanket out and set up his chair to sleep in and found it much easier than he thought it would be to fall asleep to the sound of her snoring.

5. Hawke had more scars now. As he stripped her of her clothes, he took notice. He laid her back on his bed and gently pulled at the layers of fabric that covered her and noticed all the scars freckling her body. Some of them he recognized, others were new.

As he slid her tunic up her belly, he ran his fingers over the red puffy line that marked where the Arishock had skewered her. He dipped down and kissed it before letting his mouth follow his hands up her body. There was a new scar beneath her left breast and he kissed that one too. He placed his lips over every scar he ran across; the one on her shoulder, the new slash on the back of her thigh, the small and nearly insignificant mark on her left hand.

Hawke moaned and ran her hands through his hair as he took his time with her, relearning her body after so long apart. He took a pride in the way he knew her body without ever actually having it before this night. He suspected she knew his own nearly the same when he found himself on his back with a naked Hawke gently running her fingers over the small white mark on his lower back that she instinctively knew was there.

He asked himself once again how he didn’t see this coming. How did he not realize how intimately they had always known each other? It was so clear and yet through all those battles, all the long nights together, the drinks and laughs and conversations, he never realized it.

She made a twisting motion with her hand wrapped around him and his took a deep intake of breath, or tried to anyways. With his lips on her neck, all he did was suck on her skin. It sent them in a short cycle. She would moan and twist causing him to suck harder on her until he gave in and pulled away from her.

She had a sly smile on her face and a purplish bruise bubbling up on her skin. Varric smirked to himself. Even if it was a temporary one, he was going to leave his own mark on her. Add one more onto her body that for once wasn’t brought on by hate or fear or violence.

And by the seductive sparkle in her eyes, he assumed she was going to do the same to him.

[bi-bi-richie]

So, Why?

Alright!! I’m an hour away from seeing It Chapter 2 and I’m so EXCITED but I know my heart is gonna break so I wrote this fluffy fic for the soul. Wish me luck everyone!

The truth is, well, one truth, that the Losers Club is a mix of seven kids who have no visual things in common. Visually, the only people who look like they’re actually friends would be Stan and Eddie as their clothes are mostly similar in the sense that their outfits consist of mostly polos and respectable shorts. Personality-wise, the Losers Club is a mix of seven kids who all love each other dearly and couldn’t imagine their lives without each other, though one day they knew they’d have to find out. 

Yes, the group worked well together, nobody really knew why exactly but the members of the club could tell you that it’s the shared experience of being an outcast that brought them together. That’s not to say it’s the only reason they’re together as a group but it’s definitely how it started. 

Now, there were friendships that were still unbreakable and beyond a group dynamic that existed between the seven. For example, Mike and Ben’s friendship that blossomed out of their shared interest in Derry and history in general, they usually choose to be near each other during one of the group outings or hang out individually often. Everybody did that, of course, it’s just that they might be the person the other one turns to when they need to rant or just have fun. 

However, there is one relationship in the group that everybody knew was stronger than friendship ever since it came to be, yet nobody said anything, probably because nobody really knew what it was exactly. It was stronger than friendship, farther from attraction and beyond anything any of the other losers had ever seen or felt before. Maybe they didn’t classify it as anything because they didn’t have the right word for it, even though the right word was very obvious. 

“Hey, Eddie! What’re you doing after school?” 

“Oh, I’m actually busy today, I promised Richie I would study at his place, next time?”

…

“Richie, you’re going to be literally three pennies away from being broke if you buy that bag of corn nuts. You don’t even like corn nuts! Why bother buying them?”

“Eds likes them, Bev! Could you imagine infuriating the mighty Edward? I couldn’t.”

…

“You can’t sit here!”

“Why? There’s a ton of space next to you, Eddie.” 

“I’m saving it.”

“For Richie?”

“I’m saving it.”

“...”

…

“I thought we agreed that Eddie was going on my team for paintball.”

“Please, I couldn’t let this short cutie go on your team, he’d shoot my ass in a second.” 

…

“Why?” Stan asked out loud one day. On this particular day, the only losers who came out to the quarry were Ben, Stan, and Mike. They (well, they meaning Eddie) planned to meet up with the other half of the club (and other half meaning Richie) later in the day but they were currently wrapping up an infuriatingly long game of Street Fighters back at the arcade where the whole group had been earlier. Truth be told, Eddie really didn’t want to leave and subtly tried to stay behind but gave in when Stan said he had something he wanted to talk about with him. So, now they’re lounging about on the warm rocks of the quarry. 

“Why what?” Eddie asked and pulled his head up from the little drawings he had been making with a stick in the dirt below his feet. 

“You’re always connected at the hip with Richie. I don’t really know any of us to spend as much time as you do together. I’ve never seen either of you two spend as much time as you do with each other with anyone else, which is weird to me because we’ve all always been on the same page as our friendships go. We’re all equally best friends to each other, and yet it feels like that’s not the case for either of you. So, why?” 

Eddie has been speechless before, mostly when his mom was scolding him or when Richie had said or done something so impossibly stupid he simply could not form the words to tell him. But, now he was speechless because he genuinely had no idea why. It had always been that way, Eddie may have met Bill first but he was truly friends with Richie before he was with anyone else. Richie was his polar opposite as far as how he was raised and how expressive he was allowed to be. Maybe that excited the younger Eddie, it was exciting to be around someone who was so unlike him and so unlike his suffocating home life. Of course, he wouldn’t have known, he was only seven years old at the time. 

Now, the real truth is that Richie and Eddie aren’t platonic and they both knew that even though they never talked about it. Afternoon cuddles, lingering cheek kisses, hand holding under tables, and, of course, the two chaste kisses they shared in the dead of night when they knew the world and their anxieties were asleep. It was clear to both of them that they weren’t just friends, and that was okay, but they weren’t ones to force labels onto anything, and that’s okay too. 

But, being presented with the question, Eddie knew that maybe it was okay to label this one thing. 

“I think I love him.”

Stan didn’t ask any more questions. 

…

“Fuck yeah!” Richie cried out as he burst through the doors of the rusting arcade with Bill and Beverly following behind him with proud smiles. “Holy shit, just wait until I find Eds! He’s going to flip!” 

Bill looked to Bev as the remark about Eddie slipped from Richie’s chapped lips. It was a knowing look, one that referred to multiple questions and conversations about their two friends and trying to truly understand why their relationship was so different from the rest. Bill suggested that it could possibly be from them being friends the longest in the group, and that’s when Beverly offered that maybe they weren’t friends at all. The night before, right after both Richie and Eddie blew the two of them off, they decided that maybe it was time to finally ask questions about it. 

“I mean, why just Eddie?” Beverly weakly offered as a bridge to connect the remark to the question. 

“Well, obviously because he’s my Eddie! Plus, I’ve been telling him about this for what feels like months at this point, he’s going to be so excited.” 

Bill pursed his lips and crossed his arms as if he was about to try and even weaker attempt of asking the same question. “I’m s-sure Stan will b-be too?” 

“Hm, sure, but not as much as Eddie.” 

Bev and Bill stop walking then and give Richie a look like he just told them that he was seriously going to shave his head and run ass naked through the streets at midnight. Richie kept walking for a few seconds more before he realized he couldn’t see Bev’s red hair bounce as she walked beside him. He slowly turned around with a confused, questioning smile that wavered when he saw the not-so-humorous look on his friend’s faces. 

“What?” Richie asked.

Bev just sighed and walked up to be closer to Richie. “Richie, we’re all friends, right? Best friends?” 

Richie shrugged, not in a careless yeah I guess way but more of a yeah of course, what kind of question is that? “That’s a fucking stupid question.”

Both his friends rolled their eyes but Bev continued. “Okay, then what’s with the constant fuss over Eddie?” 

Richie was quick to open his mouth as if he had a response already prepared for a totally different question. Maybe something closer to “did it bother you when Stan pushed you over the edge the other week after you accidentally pushed a shit ton of dirt onto his book?” to which Richie would’ve replied, “why, yes, it did bother me, he has a stick so far up his ass it caused water to fly up my nose!” But, that wasn’t the question, and Richie had no answer to this question, that’s why no noise came out of his mouth when he tried to speak. 

Instead, he let out an awkward chuckle and felt himself blush a little. “Uh, I don’t really know what you mean.” 

“S-sure you do.” Bill offered, “we all d-do.” 

Richie shook his head and finally let his smile drop. Of course he knew what they were talking about. It wasn’t like he just didn’t comprehend the kisses and the hand-holding and the cuddles. Hell, they’re probably the only thing Richie ever comprehends. 

“You spend every free moment with him, well, unless one of us drags you away from him. It’s like he’s a magnet and the only person attracted to him is you!” 

Richie kind of wants to make a joke that, yeah, he’s very attracted to him, but it’s not the time. 

“So, why?” 

Richie felt his skin prickle just a little bit, he had the urge to scratch at it but he didn’t. He looked at it though, it was on his right elbow and he stared at it with pursed lips. He knew the answer, he knew the question as well as he knew where to find everything in his messy room when nobody else could possibly know. He knew the answer like he knew his favorite candies and outfits. He knew the answer like he knew the way his truck liked to turn on the check engine light even though nothing was wrong because it was a very old truck. He knew the answer like he knew Eddie. 

“I… I love him.” 

…

The revelations… well, they weren’t really revelations. More like saying things they already knew but out loud for the first time. Now, if it were a revelation, the two might’ve avoided each other for much longer than necessary. They might’ve even gotten into a fight and pushed the other away only to show up a week or month later apologizing and confessing their undying love. 

But, it wasn’t a revelation. 

So, that night Richie still crawled into Eddie’s room at night despite being a few years to big for the window and many years too old to still be doing it. Eddie still smiled when he saw him and pulled back his comforter so Richie could wiggle in next to him and wrap his skinny but warm arms around his torso. Eddie still snuggled into his chest and chuckled at a sleepy joke Richie huffed out and things were still the same. 

“Richie?” Eddie whispered, the sleepiness heavy in his voice but the coherent thoughts not yet gone from his head. 

“Yeah, Eds?” Richie swore he felt his heart skip a beat at the softness of the smaller boy’s voice, it gave him butterflies like no other. 

“I love you.” 

And, funny enough, the world didn’t freeze and Richie didn’t freak out like some people would’ve he would if they spent three seconds around him. Instead, everything felt just right, beyond right, righter than right. Everything was perfect. 

“I love you too.” 

[ineffable-writer]

It’s 2 AM and I typed up 2000 words of Crowley and Aziraphale taking a walk in which Crowley gets scared by a goat.

AO3 here:  https://archiveofourown.org/works/21807757/chapters/52124167#workskin

Whole thing below the break. This is what happens when I spend a weekend with no one’s company but my own. I should sleep now.

The Walk to Cawdor Castle

It was a twenty-seven-minute walk from the cottage they’d rented to Cawdor castle, but Aziraphale was convinced they could get there quicker. There was a path, you see, a clear footpath that Crowley’s device didn’t know about, but you could see it plain as day on the satellite map. It was some sort of walking path through the woods, and wouldn’t that be lovelier than dodging cars along the road?

Crowley was not invested in dodging cars along the road—although he wasn’t invested in walking to the castle in the first place—so they ignored the directions. It was a left in front of the cottage, down a few signs that read very clearly public property, then a path through the woods. The residences here were absolutely beautiful. All gardens and hedges and flowers, although the plants were dry for the winter. But clearly very well-maintained. And at least one of the properties had hedges that would have benefited from some group therapy with Crowley’s plants: they could hear an older gentleman cursing at them in a braw thunder as they passed. The demon threw the quivering foliage a glare as they walked past.

Hard to put the effort in for that, though. He was in a good mood.

“Did you ever get up here?” he asked, fending off the inevitable lecture from the angel with a question. “You know, while he was Thane? Or king?”

“Oh, no. Too busy running around in the damp with you. In that dreadful armor.” Aziraphale shuddered at the thought. Literally. Show-off. “Did you?”

“Nah.” Crowley rolled his shoulders. It was mostly quiet, save for the cursing of the man at the hedges, but they could still hear the roar of the highway from here. “Was up here during Culloden. And… after.”

“Really? I. I didn’t know.”

“On and off. Poked my head in. Appearance’s sake.”

“Explains—”

“Yeah, it gave me the idea. World felt… shaky. People getting’ thrown about with no insurance. Fire and flame. Hit close to home.”

They took a right—there was a brief and breathtaking view of the valley with the mountains beyond—and then there was a left, and there was indeed a path where Aziraphale had insisted there was one. Crowley suddenly remembered how much he loved pavement. He never appreciated a good, solid road until there weren’t any to take.

They shouldn’t have expected anything less than the muddy pit before them, of course. It hadn’t rained too recently, but there was snowmelt, and this was Scotland after all. The path was in all right shape, but it was pocketed with bog, and there wasn’t a good way to cross this muck without getting it on them. Angel and demon both hesitated.

“Miss the car yet?” Crowley asked.

“Oh, hush. Where’s your adventurous spirit?” Crowley raised an eyebrow. Aziraphale tutted, shimmied himself into a pose that said yes, I am very definitely going to walk straight through this mud pit, any minute now, good sir! and promptly hesitated. “Only, well. I really would prefer not to get it all over these shoes.”

The demon sighed. He waved his hand as though letting Aziraphale ahead, a simple after you, and there was a board across the pit. The angel smiled broadly, and the shimmying of his shoulders relaxed into a pleasurable wave as he crossed from the safety of a miraculous bridge. Crowley followed. He didn’t need the dirt either, after all.

“The castle wasn’t here when he was either,” said Aziraphale. “Macbeth was actually hundreds of years before the castle.”

“Where did he stay, then?” South of them, on their left: not old forest, but wild forest, at least, an attempt to come back from the clearing of the land. Red, dry ferns in their winter state, minty-green growth sprawling on the northern faces of the trees. Foliose lichens dangled and scattered around the forest—bunching in branches and climbing the trunks—with paler, crustose lichens that sprawled in rippling circles on the rocks, the logs.

The angel frowned. “You know, I’m not sure. But I’d still like to see it. Do the tourist thing. It did look pretty in the photographs on the World Wide Web.”

“World Wide—no one calls it that anymore, angel. It’s the internet. Not a proper noun.” On their right, a stone wall had fallen into disuse, now pillowy and puffed with vibrant moss. An altogether different forest lay to the north of the path: instead of wild trees and ferns and growths, a grid of towering trees—perhaps conifers? But not evergreens—had been planted, and were now reaching for the sky.

Aziraphale stopped to examine an eggshell that had fallen from somewhere, had nestled between the fallen needles of the trees. He smiled at it. He was downright angelic at it. Crowley could feel the angel’s thoughts radiating from him: something nauseating about the circle of life and the joy of youth. It was disgustingly beautiful. Crowley managed to pull the besotted stare off his face before the angel looked up again.

The path, it was increasingly clear, had been formed by cart wheels and maintained by tires. It tapered off into a staging area for some industrial business that was closed for the week-end, and continued across the lot as a road. They passed through a small herd of unliving machinery—perhaps some sort of logging situation, Aziraphale mused, that would explain the grid of trees—and Crowley miracled up another bridge before they were once again beside the wood, occasionally stepping aside to let cars go past.

Crowley’s hand found the angel’s, again. They did that a lot these days.

Once they were on the proper road, they consulted Google Maps again and tried to figure out the best course to the castle. Crowley insisted it was just through an arch between two buildings—“We can ignore the sign, angel, there’s no one here, we just walked through private property,”—but trespassing again was, for some reason, just too much, so they went a little further down the road to circle around the offending property. They ended up walking past a field full of black goats, framed by the Highlands and the blue sky and the chill wind. The road curved south up ahead, and at the bend they should have been able to get to the castle grounds.

Crowley did not like goats.

They had eyes, was it. Reminded him too much of his boss. The horns, too. All off in weird places. Hooves. Not his thing. Not his scene, goats.

And one was out of the enclosure. A big one. Black as the night and with no discernable method of having gotten out. The fence was secure, the gate was padlocked shut, and all the other goats were inside, where they were supposed to be.  

Crowley made the noise.

“Ngk—”

“What? Oh! Oh, hello, you sweet boy, what are you doing out here?” Aziraphale went right to it, of course, and looked quite put out when it darted anxiously away. “I think he’s lost!”

“No he’s not, he knows exactly where he is! The pasture’s right there.”

“How on Earth did you get out, my dear?” Aziraphale turned around, looking for a way to rescue the wayward soul, but no opportunities presented themselves. Crowley was getting increasingly suspicious of the creature, so Aziraphale stepped away. “Nothing to be done, I suppose.”

“It’s fine. They’re clever. Come on.”

“Hm.”

Aziraphale said nothing when they gave the goat a wide berth, and took his demon’s arm as they wandered up the hill toward the marked parking area. It wasn’t far—just behind some houses—but there wasn’t a car in sight. Aziraphale’s shoulders slumped.

“Oh, it’s closed!” The gate into the property was shut and locked, as was the gate to the gardens. Aziraphale sighed and peered through the latter. It was beautiful, like something out of a fairy tale. “I thought you said it was open.”

“The hours listed on the app say it’s open.” Crowley fiddled with his phone. “The website’s different. Looking at it. Says it’s shut for winter repairs.”

Aziraphale didn’t understand what an app was or why it would be different from the World Wide Web, but he assumed it made sense to Crowley. He sighed, dejected. “Well, I suppose that’s that.”

“We could still go in.” There was something indulgent in the way Crowley reacted to the angel’s disappointment, a richness in that empathy that reminded Aziraphale of devil’s food cake and well-aged wine. He wasn’t sure why he felt that so strongly, but he was sure they were both aware of it. Aziraphale didn’t need to look to see the pout.

“No, no, there’s no point if no one’s there. We are tourists, we aren’t straying off the beaten path.”

“Isn’t that literally how we—”

Ba-a-a-a-a.

Crowley jumped a foot in the air when the escaped goat bleated behind him. He bowled into Aziraphale, knocking the angel against the gate to the garden, and somehow the angel found himself in front of his friend, facing the goat like a human shield. He sighed, because if he didn’t sigh he would laugh aloud, and Crowley would sulk about that.

“Let’s at least get him back where he’s supposed to be.”

They managed it somehow. Aziraphale miracled open the padlock and Crowley herded it toward the gate. There were a number of strangled noises—Aziraphale wasn’t sure how much Crowley herded the goat versus how much the goat herded Crowley—but eventually the angel managed to lure the poor thing back into the enclosure, and he slipped out without letting any of the other animals escape. The lock clicked shut and the angel looked immensely pleased with himself.

“See? A little hard work and—”

The goat hopped over the fence.

Crowley and Aziraphale both stared at it. It bleated, turned, and nudged the fence woefully. The other goats finally seemed to realize it was on the wrong side and wandered over, curious. There was a quiet, distressed chorus of bleating.

Crowley burst out laughing. Aziraphale threw up his hands, exasperated, elbows tight at his side. He turned and walked back towards the main road, definitively giving up. There was only so much a person could do.

Crowley followed and caught his arm. “Read a book once,” he said.

“Did you? Once? I’m so proud.”

“Shut up. It was satire, doesn’t count. Great writer, though. Said Christians would have turned out a lot different if Jesus had been a goatherd instead of a shepherd.”

“He was a carpenter,” said Aziraphale.

“Nonono, it was satire. Character was a literal shepherd. Jesus was a metaphorical one.”

“Why didn’t he just make the character a goatherd?”

Crowley decided it wasn’t worth the effort. “Which way are we going back? Main road or your shortcut?”

“Hm.” Aziraphale squeezed his arm. “The path less traveled by, I think.”

“Right,” said Crowley. “Adventurous spirit.”

[anastasiaskarsgard]

Hydrangea - Chapter 1

The home was large and imposing. Located on the second largest island, in the Stockholm archipelago, it was connected to Stockholm by a bridge, which meant it was in the perfect location to quickly reach the rest of civilization whenever the moment was required -- but was enough out of the way that I didn't have to be bothered by anyone. The quiet location of the home allowed me the peace and privacy recent events, had made so valuable.

Upon stepping inside, I noted the dust that covered every single surface within the home; and on the kitchen table -- sat a magazine from six years ago. It had been a while since anyone used this place. It had been in our family for several generations, and although it was grand and beautiful in the summer, it was a hard place to live in the winter. Just heating it, was a small fortune, especially considering it had no protection or barriers to help shield it from the ferocious frozen winds, that relentlessly lasted the coldest months of an already savage cold.

 My tiny Pomeranian, Max, took a moment to sniff around. He was as fearless as he was adorable, and I could only pray that he managed to stay out of trouble. Max was my loyal little man, and when i was at my lowest, he really helped me keep going. I had given up on myself, but I couldnt let my little Max down. I leaned down and gave him a quick back rub, before he trotted off to sniff around some more. I could only imagine the sensory overload all this was to a little city dog, that now had an entire new world to investigate.

I walked around the house, going from room to room, opening up windows to let in the fresh air. I peeked over at my neighbors house, and was pleased to see people were there.

Back when I was growing up, I would come here every summer, without fail. During that time, I had managed to develop amazing friendships with the children who had lived next door -- Bill and Eija Skarsgard. Bill was the tall and lanky boy who would always have scrapes and bruises, and absolutely zero fear whatsoever. Eija, was just as bold as her older brother. She never failed to be confident in any situation -- even when I was hesitant about something. In fact, if I tried to chicken out, or god forbid, not even try, she always found a way to change my mind. I was a naturally timid child, but they would have none of it. There were 3 older brothers, and although theyd often humor us, they were too old to play our silly games of pretend.  But looking back on the events that led me here, I couldn't help but wish I’d stayed that sweet timid girl, that cried when i caught a fish, because id made its mouth bleed. Being fearless and passionate hadnt gone well for me.

These days, from what I'd seen online and read about in articles, it seemed that almost all of the Skarsgard brothers were actors. I remembered the father was some sort of artistic type, and was shocked his sons had followed suit, all but one of them, got so embarrassed by his unapologetic nudity. The boys I grew up playing "make believe" with as children, were now critically acclaimed actors. Not only that but beautiful ones at that! Bill had grown into quite the looker. He was handsome by anyone's standards,  with his rich and dark brown hair, sinful full lips, chiseled facial features and penetrating green eyes. Looking at him in magazines, it was mind-blowing that this was the same boy that helped me build dams out of stones, or dig in the dirt for hours. I was sorry I'd lost touch with them but was too shy to reach out to them now that they were famous. That wasn't why I missed them, although I'm sure that's what they'd think. I hoped that the fame hadn't gone to their heads and that they were still the friendly, free-spirited family that I had always remembered them to be before I couldn't find the time to come back to this place.

When you're a teenager, you don't want to escape the rat race; you want to be in the thick of it. I was by no means a party girl, but I did enjoy an active social life in my teens, and all through college. I was obsessed with getting good grades and was a bit of an overachiever, so I kept myself busy. I was always aloof with boys because frankly, they all seemed more trouble than they were worth. I had high standards and was of the mindset that I would rather be alone than settle for someone perfect for me. Then I met Adam.

Adam appeared perfect, at least at the surface. He was naturally athletic and tall, attractive by conventional standards; and very funny -- as well as charismatic and successful. He honestly had it all, or so I thought. People, myself included, were instinctively drawn in by him. Adam could always be counted upon for a good time with a great story. He was your typical all-american boy next door that you wanted to do bad things with. It’d actually flattered me, when he took an interest in me, and tirelessly pursued me.

If I had to describe myself, physically, I was fortunate enough to be naturally conventionally attractive as well. However, I had a standoffish vibe. In my defense, resting bitch face is a thing that can’t be fixed for some people, but with every cloud, there's a silver lining. Especially since it's saved me from numerous creeps approaching me, and at least gave me the illusion that I blended in, and didn't draw much notice.  I HATED being the center of attention. On a Friday night, you're more likely to find me at home curled up on my couch engrossed in a good novel -- rather than dealing with strangers and drunk people.

I had a very secure career as a  business analyst, for a big utility company; so I was not the person you ever wanted to see. I analyzed our various departments and employees, to always be sure, we work at our most financial efficiency, and if I did come to see you, it wasn’t because to give you a high five. As long as I kept us out of the red, and looked professional and clean, they really couldn't have cared less about aging or being fashionable.

As time progressed within our relationship, I thought nothing of it when Adam got a new assistant at work named Alexis. Alexis had a lovely face and Victoria's Secret body. She was slender, and never appeared to have a single strand of hair out of place. A few friends made comments, but I defended her, annoyed people only looked at her superficially, and didn't take her seriously. I had suffered this same plight, my entire life, so I refused to acknowledge her beauty as anything suspicious. She was brilliant and tenacious, and her organizational skills were spectacular, and coming from me, that's quite a compliment.  She also knew a lot about healthy eating habits and managed to share diet and exercise tips with Adam when he started to find it difficult to fit in some of his suits. I thought it was sweet of him to make a new friend, and treat her like a peer and looking back, I want to choke myself.  I was, quite frankly, the most naive, trusting idiot on the planet.

It started simply; she would occasionally "forget" to give him some messages from me and once in a while laughing a little too much at one of his jokes that just wasn't as funny, or always would touch his arm or back or shoulder. Honestly, it was a tint bit annoying, but he had always been a handsome, charming guy, that made people feel comfortable. She wasn't the first one to be a bit too familiar, but at the end of the day, he loved me and wanted to marry me. I had no reason to not trust him because of her actions. If I'm honest, I probably should confess I am a bit of a reclusive type and am not very attentive or needy. Alone time is right up there with oxygen, for me, so I have to trust completely, or I’ll drive myself nuts.

If I’d paid closer attention, id have questioned why he started staying later and later at the office. I just assumed he was taking on more cases, that he had gained from all the free publicity when he had represented a notorious South American cartel crime lords son, and saved him from what was thought to be a certain a guaranteed death sentence. He’d still received a life sentence, but considering the 74 crimes had been guilty of, that was damn near a miracle! So, I didn’t mind when he had to cancel several dates with me. In fact, I was proud of him for getting more work, rising in the ranks of the legal hierarchy as well. Then there was his sudden disinterest in looking at houses with me. One of the most significant conflicts in our relationship had always been that I refused to move in together until we were married. Since we were going to be getting married at the end of summer, he had been foaming at the mouth to pick out our future home, but now it was like he planned on buying a house after we were married. I didn't let it bother me though, I figured that because of his busy work schedule, it would just be easier for me to take photos of the houses for him, and put them all in an online portfolio for him to review at his convenience. I even went as far as completely buying his bullshit excuse of "needing something to hold back his hair out of his eyes, while he was at the gym" when I found a woman's hair tye in his fucking bathroom. (Believe me, if I could go back and slap the shit out of myself --) :

It wasn’t until I received a call from my gynecologist with the results from my yearly pap smear -- that I was doused in the cold hard reality of what was going on. I had chlamydia, and quite frankly -- I wanted to cut his manhood off and make him eat it, I was so mad. I stormed into his office and burst through the doors dramatically slamming the test results on his desk in front of him. And you want to know the embarrassing part? I still didn't think it was Alexis.

“What dirty ass whore, have you been sticking your dick in? Who was worth throwing us away, because its fucking over.” I said menacingly enough, he scooted back a bit.

“I dont think you should talk about her like she cant hear you, for fucks sake,” he said looking over at Alexis who continued to work quietly and avoid eye contact with me; almost pretending as if nothing were wrong and she could not in fact hear me.

I was at a complete loss. I stood there with my mouth agape, trying to process this information, and when I could feel the lump in my throat rise, and the tears threatened to fall, I turned on my heel and left, without saying another word.

Looking back, I should have noticed several signs that something was amiss.

About six months ago, he became very concerned with his appearance; hitting the gym, eating healthy, buying anti-aging products, investing in several expensive wardrobe pieces, getting a new hairstyle. I had found it funny that at 30 years old, he was having a mid-life crisis. I’d tease him about it a little bit, and he’d just roll his eyes and say he wasn’t a natural stunner like me.

I’ve always been very low maintenance, but that’s because my body knows it has to keep it together because I’m not doing a bunch of crazy stuff to stay young. I’m totally fine with gray hairs, wrinkles and wearing my Juicy tracksuits that haven’t been in style, for a decade. There were better odds that I’d get superpowers than I’d get Botox.

I had been so blind. Such a fool.

When Adam came by my home to pick up his possessions he’d left there over the years, she came along and even had the audacity to come inside with him. She had this smug look on her face, and kept whispering to Adam and giggling. I knew she was trying to get a rise out of me but was a lady dammit... I held it together until they finally left, and as I closed the door and locked it behind them, I pressed my forehead to the door, willing myself to stay strong, but my legs got so weak, and the air felt like it’d been knocked out of me. And I suddenly felt far too heavy to stand. I crumpled to the floor, and curled myself into the fetal position, and cried like I, ve never cried in my entire life. Hysterical, slobberyface, sobbing with boogers, till my throat and diaphragm hurt, and then I cried some more.

My heart was broken. I felt like my life was over, and my chance at happiness had left with him. I sunk into a pretty deep depression and stopped cleaning the house and speaking to anyone outside of work. If it hadn't been for my loyalty to Max, I don't know if I would of left my house. I had to take care of Max tho, so I pressed on although I was a shell of my old self.

I’d torture myself looking at their social media accounts, with all their cute little pictures and sappy comments. I’d never been one to post 1000 pictures of my life or write to my boyfriend. I saw every day, professions of my love for all the world to see. I updated my Instagram maybe once a month, unlike Alexis, who seemed to update hers about once an hour. It was disgusting.

That’s how I saw the hydrangea bushes.

I always loved hydrangeas and had asked Adam if I could plant some at his office, and he’d always said they were too problematic. I’m an analyst, so rather than argue, I gathered various varieties and strains, what their strengths and weaknesses were, what colors were offered, how often they bloomed and what was required to keep them alive. I had presented Adam with the top 3 hydrangea candidates in folders that were the color they’d bloom to be, and was rather pleased with myself. He’d been busy at the time and handed the folders off to Alexis, promising to look them over later. I asked him a few times if he’d gotten a chance to look them over and he’d get annoyed, so I just let it go.

Now I was sitting here, seething with rage, looking at Alexis, posing next to a sizeable Bloomstruck hydrangea bush holding my motherfucking folder.

I don’t know what came over me, but I had to destroy that bush.: I stayed up all night, figuring out the best strategy. Finally, I decided to go by his office before sunrise, since no one would be around, for me to douse said bush in lighter fluid and walk away to let it soak in. Eventually, once they had arrived at the office a little bit later, I would wait for them to all be inside and then casually stroll on by and toss a lit match in the bush.

 Burn baby, burn! 

His office building was made out of bricks and the flowering bed was also encased in bricks; there was no risk of it getting out of control.

I jogged by, splashing the contents all over the bush, and then crossed the street to the parking garage, where I took the stairs up to the sixth floor, where I could see them arrive without being seen. People never look up.

It didn't take long before I saw Adam’s shiny black Mercedes pull into his reserved parking space, and imagine my surprise when Alexis got out the passenger side. I guess he was giving her rides to work now too, or maybe they even lived together. Frankly, I didn't care, but they were not getting happily ever after, with my favorite fucking flowers!

They kissed and held hands, in front of God and everybody. It was repulsive and so unprofessional. He pulled her into a deep kiss and then went inside, leaving her outside. What was she doing? I bet she was going to take some fucking selfies. She walked over to MY bush, digging in her purse. More pictures with the bush, but when she pulled something out of her purse, my stomach dropped. In her hand, she had a cigarette and a lighter. She tried to light her cigarette, but it was a windy day. Thank God, I breathed a sigh of relief until she huddled down into the bush, using it to block the wind and lit her cigarette. I'm not exaggerating when I say; she quite literally burst into flames.

 I watched in horror, as she ran around flailing her arms and screaming completely engulfed in flames. Then I turned around, and I ran as fast and as far as my legs would take me in the opposite direction.

I want to give a huge thank you for helping me with editing @imaginationlane. She is such a good writer, and she took the time to help point me in the right direction and I'm very thankful. I actually edited something!!!! Yeah!!!

If I should keep going, like or comment or reblog. I welcome any comments, good or bad.

[3amflailing]

THE OA PART 2 TRAILER SPECULATIONS

Here’s part 2 as promised! I kind of go into where I think the storyline will go, the characters, some of the more obvious symbolism, and any last thoughts. It’s super long (sorry bout that... I got carried away!!!) and I have not proof-read it so I apologize if there’s any mistakes. Please feel free to leave your thoughts or anything else I forgot to add, I’d love to hear different views or anything I missed because I’m sure that I missed some stuff! 

Storyline-

I think that Part 2 will start off similarly to Part 1, where we find Prairie in a hospital. I’m unsure if that will be the very first scene though, as we might get something cryptic about OA travelling or Crestwood 5. Or maybe even Nina on the boat as the first shot, who knows! Next, I think OA will likely go back to her apartment and start to unravel who she is in this dimension, as well as start to formulate her plan for what she needs to do.

At this point we’ll probably get shots of Hap and his captives travelling to the next dimension. My guess is that they’re all connected through a mental hospital where Scott, Rachel, and Renata are patients and Homer and Hap are the doctors (more on this in the character part). OA will try to seek them out (successfully, thankfully!) though I am unsure of when this will happen and if anything else happens compared to the ‘missing person’ plot, as we see her alone with only Karim.

For this plotline they’ll be looking at clues around/within the creepy house shown in the trailer, which I think is probably the home of a cult which collects and ensnares children (the shot of the beds in the trailer looked eerily like a cultic version of a boarding school dorm room). My guess is Buck/Michelle has either gone there or gone missing from there, and the adults of the house want them back. I’m also unsure at this point if Buck is still trans- perhaps a reason why they ran away, if they are still being identified as Michelle?- hence why I am using neutral pronouns.

From what we know in Season 1 there’s still some conspiracy towards agencies interfering (Elias in OA’s house, maybe planting books to discredit her) and I think this season might take that further. At the end of the trailer we see OA on camera in a weird underground tunnel place, and I’m not sure if she knew the camera was there originally. We didn’t see her struggle to get out of the chair in the trailer, but there was a curtain covering anything beyond the chair which might reveal clues as to why she’s there, and the countdown at the end seemed almost like it was an operation being done without OA’s consent. Also, in this plotline I’m suspicious that Karim isn’t just a ‘private investigator’ as he says. One of the shots in the many we get at the end of the trailer is him carrying and then throwing a body- I’m kind of thinking that he’s in an organization with a specific purpose, though perhaps not against OA, as he seems confused in shots which are probably in the house that he’s investigating. What is he doing? It’s unclear.

We know that Zal and Brit have 5 seasons imagined, and it seems to me that there might be an overarching theme of a force of people using the movements/different dimensions (for evil) already, something that OA and Hap don’t know of yet. I think they’ll learn about it this season; what they do next is uncertain. Or maybe this is all just my mind overthinking! Who knows!

Characters-

OA: From what we know OA is being meshed together with a few different identities, namely Nina Azarova, Prairie Johnson, and the person she is in the present. OA has the knowledge of both identities (at least to a certain extent- we don’t know if she receives Nina Azarova’s adult memories) as well as the dimensions. Prairie Johnson represents her in the first dimension, before she starts to truly learn the metaphysical world of the movements.

In the second dimension, Nina Azarova was never in the bus crash. We don’t know for sure what happened to her father, but the family is still clearly rich (unless her university education led to a lucrative job) what with the expensive clothes and the very fancy apartment. The only clue is that she has a portrait of her father on the fireplace, which makes me think that the Voi could have murdered him at some point.

Hap: In this dimension I believe Hap is still in the realm of sciences, still a doctor, but perhaps a practicing doctor in a mental health facility. As stated before, I believe the Haptives landed in bodies in a mental hospital of some sorts. We see Hap with a badge, standing in an office reminiscent of his first dimension’s workspace, and clearly wearing fancy work clothes. Whatever he’s doing, he’s still affluent and intelligent.

Homer: This is interesting, because we don’t see much of Homer in the trailer. I think he might actually be a colleague of Hap’s in this dimension- especially given that we see what appears to be the beginnings of a hug- and we see him run outside in normal clothes.

Scott/Rachel/Renata: They all appear to be patients in the mental hospital, likely all with separate rooms. Sigh. Caged once again. Fortunately we know that they reunite with OA at some point, so maybe they get free/discharged? Scott also seems friendlier/maybe more healthy given that he’s advising OA on something.

Crestwood 5: we see them all together, maybe taking a trip to the beach together? It’s a weird dynamic, 5 students and a former teacher, but who knows what happened to get them there. Steve and Angie appear to be dating, and it looks like they’ve told Angie about the movements and OA as she performs the 5th movement. Steve also shaves his head, which could suggest that he goes to Asheville? However when this happens during the season is unclear. Or maybe he just wanted a change. We get a shot of everyone but Jesse performing the 5th movement, though we do get a focused shot of Jesse not participating in beach activities. He might have more significance in S2 as we didn’t get much background with him in S1. The trailer didn’t have much of Buck in, which makes me think that his storyline might be /extra important/ in the overarching storyline. What happens to him? Also, there’s a shot of people in dirt holes/craters and I am suspecting that it could be C5, though the shot wasn’t clear enough to get a proper look. I have no clue why they’d be doing that, but maybe it could be them going to another dimension without dying, or hiding if someone is after them?

Karim Washington: now this is a character we don’t know much about. He’s a private investigator, hired by we-don’t-know-who, and appears to be helping OA. Why do they want in the house? Why are they going where they go? Why does he hold a person in the trailer and throw them? Is he truly on OA’s side (she seems to trust him given the line “you’re kinder than you seem”)? We see a lot of shots of him in red lighting, looking confused- I’m willing to bet that he’s in the house in them- so I’m unsure if he’s working with the people of that house or with another organization. I don’t really have faith that he’s completely without other motivations than finding Buck/Michelle, to be honest. For a major character who appears not to know about the movements, he seems very involved. He reminds me of Elias in that way.

Other characters: We see a woman behind Hap in the facility, who people on Reddit have speculated is Evelyn who gave them the 5th movement. I’m unsure that she’ll be important, unless the theory turns out correct. We see a man and a woman help OA get into her apartment- I don’t think they’ll have much relevance other than providing OA answers on Nina’s life. We see a blonde woman with bangs come up with BBA in a shot of C5- if she’s with C5 she might have more significance, but we don’t know anything about her. Finally: the man leading OA to the chair. I think he will be highly relevant in the plot with Buck/Michelle missing or some sort of mysterious organization.

Symbolism-

Water: Throughout the show water is a very important representation of boundaries between dimensions and people. In S1 we see Nina become Prairie with the bus crash/drowning; we see Prairie get nosebleeds (metaphysical visions) in the bath; we see all the captives have NDEs through water; Homer swallows a marine creature in his NDE; OA tries to jump off a bridge into water to go to another dimension; the list goes on. In S2 we see Nina fall- this is likely where she feels OA’s gunshot wound- and is thus taken to the hospital. What is interesting here is that she is on a boat, with the Golden Gate Bridge in shot. She is travelling over water, just as OA is travelling through dimensions. We also see C5 at the beach, playing in the water. C5 has knowledge of the movements and how to travel, but whether they themselves can actually travel is another story. It’s like they are at a wall, knowing their destination but not how to get there, which is mirrored in that they are by/in the water without a way to travel through it. I also should note that we first see BBA and the C5 by a pool- an artificial body of water. I’m unclear on the significance of it but it seems that there could be a visceral difference between open water and man-made bodies of water. Karim is also investigating by the Port of San Francisco- more water!- which could be him getting closer to the knowledge of the dimension/movements. Perhaps the most interesting shot is that of a person walking down a boat causeway. This shot just JUMPED in my mind for the symbolism. One of the boats is gone, others are at varying points in their docking cubbies , and the person (who is not OA) appears to be walking down to the end, though we don’t know if they’re going to get in the boat at the end or what. To me this clearly represents how the movements allow travel to different dimensions. You get a path and many choices, though some aren’t available to you, or are perhaps you’ve already been to. I would continue to watch for anything to do with water during the S2, it’s sure to be connected.

Trees: we get a new element of trees in this season! 3 shots are of note, the first being OA and Karim standing over what appears to be an artificial tree trunk cut. They’re putting puzzle pieces together, though the puzzle pieces seem to shape up to be circular in total and have lines on them as a tree would. The second shot is OA in the woods, standing with Young Nina and watching a glass box which contains Rachel and then OA. I’m not really sure what it means, but I think OA will go through a massive change in the forest. The last shot is of OA falling through a tree trunk and coming out in the middle of its roots. I’m thinking that trees start to represent the dimensions/new life- it could perhaps be significant of change? Or a way to travel between dimensions without dying (as the Haptives do the movements surrounded by forest)?

Colours: we get a LOT of colours in this trailer. Like, compared to the pastel muted shades of S1, this season is absolutely vibrant. The most notable colour to me was the red, which we see with Karim, something which is pretty obvious in its bad/evil connotations. Something’s up, y’all, and it’s not good. We also see that neon blue-green, which I also don’t think is a really good colour. We kind of see that shade underwater with Nina in s1 (maybe? Am I reaching?) so I think that it also might be representative of forceful dimension changing or NDEs. We also get lots of oranges/yellows/whites, which I think might be the general colours of this dimension. It would be good practice for Brit and Zal to visually distinguish the two dimensions, which is probably what’s happening. OA also starts wearing actual colours too, as well as some more fashionable clothes, which to me signifies her being in control (or at least not controlled by Nancy and Abel) and expressing herself freely through colours.

Last thoughts: I think all in all we’re going to see OA truly come in as her own this season, without manipulation or pressure from Hap or her parents. I think she’s going to come to terms with herself (aka multiple identities) and begin to focus more on saving the Haptives and perhaps also getting back to C5, or recreating C5. I think the music also represents this well, as we hear the violin in the trailer, but much more forceful and urgent than in S1, reminiscent of the storyline picking up but also of OA playing her own tune, not someone else’s. One thought I had was that if there is some sort of overarching plot where other people are using the dimensions, it could be the doctor that Hap met with in S1, given that he was closely following a similar NDE experiment, though we know he was much more inhumane and ruthless than Hap. Could we see him again? Who knows. I think this season is going to be absolutely breathtaking, and I’m sure that Brit and Zal will be able to capture the magic of S1 in a new format. Have faith, guys! It’s gonna be a good one. I look forward to watching it (I’m seriously so pumped, less than a month!!!) and theorizing with all of you, and in the meantime you’ll catch me watching the trailer repeatedly and screaming. Cheers!

[sceptilemasterr]

“Reunion,” an Endless Summer fanfic

Title: “Reunion”

Fandom: Choices: Endless Summer

Main Pairing: Sean x Taylor (gender not stated)

Other Pairings: Grace x Aleister, Craig x Zahra, Diego x Varyyn

Genre: Romance, Vaanu Ending Override (this is a genre now because I said so!)

Warnings: Mild swearing

Summary: “If you love someone, let them go. For if they return, they were always yours.” During a group reunion party on La Huerta a year later, the old memories come rushing back. Sean and the others are invited to Elyys’tel for a Vaanti ceremony...

Note: A gift for the Sean Gayle fans out there! Yes, I know I’m 3 days late for the ESAPW Sean day, but I’m writing it anyway. It has some Grace x Aleister (”Graleister?”) moments too, so...it counts? Kinda? Either way, enjoy!

Sean re-read the letter twice before he rolled it up and stuck it into his back pocket.  He’d spent the entire flight in composing the perfect letter to Taylor; whether they’d actually be able to somehow read it or not, Sean had wanted to do something meaningful. He was still debating whether he’d set the letter adrift at sea in a bottle, or burn it and let the embers escape into the sky. Maybe Quinn would have an idea. She understood that sort of thing a lot better than he did.

Stepping off the Rourke-Hall International plane onto the familiar dirt runway, Sean was suddenly hit by an intense flood of memories. Behind him, Grace and Aleister descended as well, hand-in-hand. “Sean, are you alright?” asked Grace.

Sean shook his head to clear it and looked back at her. “Thanks, Grace, but I’m okay. Just memories.”

“Such is to be expected,” said Aleister. “Nevertheless, memories can be good or bad, depending on one’s outlook.”

“Bit of both, I guess,” said Sean, shrugging. “Come on, let’s head up to The Celestial. Hopefully it won’t be abandoned this ti--”

The roaring of an engine overhead cut him off, and the three of them turned to see a small private jet, wobbling unsteadily through the air, coming straight toward them! “Whoa! Watch out!” shouted Sean, grabbing Grace and Aleister by the arms and yanking them off of the runway. They watched as the plane did a barrel roll, overshot the runway, then swooped down low, skimming the tops of the jungle trees before flying back into the air. It did a full loop around The Celestial before coming in on a vector right toward the runway. It narrowly missed clipping the RHI plane before bouncing twice on its landing gear, finally coming to a stop a few feet away from the control tower. Somehow, impossibly, without a single scratch.

Sean, Grace, and Aleister looked at each other for a moment, and then Aleister said, “Ah. It appears Jacob has arrived.”

At that, the three of them couldn’t help but break down into laughter.

“Bro, I think I’ll fly with you on the way back, thanks,” Craig was saying to Aleister some time later. The whole group had all trickled in on this plane or that plane, until now all eleven of them were seated around a large table in The Celestial for brunch. Furball sat curled up in Quinn’s lap, licking the frosting off of a cupcake she was feeding him. “I felt like I was gonna puke!”

Jake laughed. “What’s the matter, can’t handle a few basic maneuvers? I’ll have you know that was all on purpose.”

“Pfft. ‘Maneuvers,’ my ass,” muttered Zahra. “And Craig, you did puke. On the window. It was disgusting.”

“How was I supposed to know the windows didn’t open?”

“It’s a PLANE.”

“...So?”

Aleister put his face in his hands as Grace rubbed his back soothingly. “The ignorance. It burns...” he muttered.

Sean was only half focusing on the conversation. His eyes were constantly drawn toward the twelfth chair, the empty one they had all placed between himself and Diego. Diego noticed him looking at it and flashed a reassuring smile. “I know. ‘Eleven Catalysts’ doesn’t have the same ring to it, does it?” he asked.

Sean nodded. “Yeah. They made the right call. I just wish... I just wish we’d had more time. To say goodbye.”

Diego leaned across the empty seat to pat Sean’s shoulder. “We all do, but probably you more than anyone. I guess...well, Varyyn told me about a tradition the Vaanti have. They climb to the highest branch of Elyys’tel, and toss leaves containing messages for their departed loved ones into the wind. They say if you listen closely, you can hear a reply on the breeze blowing through the boughs.”

Sean took in Diego’s words. “That’s....” He swallowed hard. “That’s beautiful. D’you think he’d let us do that?”

“Sean, of course he would! Why do you think I suggested we go to Elyys’tel tonight, anyway?”

Sean broke into a grin and pulled Diego into a tight hug. “You’re the best, Diego. Damn, I’ve missed you.” He stopped, and looked around at the others at the table, smiling at each and every one of them. “I’ve missed all of you.”

“What, even me, bro?” asked Craig.

Zahra punched Craig playfully. “He sees us every day, dumbass. You know what he meant.”

“Oh yeah. I knew that!”

“Mmmmrl!” squeaked Furball, leaping up onto the table and knocking over the stack of waffles on Estela’s plate. She glared at the blue fox for a few seconds before breaking down and smiling, unable to stay mad at the adorable creature for long.

Quinn giggled. “Furball says he missed everyone too! And I agree with him!” She smiled sweetly and added, “Let’s not wait another year to have a group reunion, huh?”

Michelle nodded. “Amen to that, girl!”

A sudden slam from the direction of the front doors made everyone look up. “What was that?!” demanded Estela, leaping to her feet and dropping into a combat stance, butter knife in one hand.

Diego sighed. “Not again. It’s just the Vaanti, Estela, calm down. How many times do I have to tell them...uh, be right back, guys.” He jumped out of his seat and sprinted into the lobby. Estela dropped the knife and sat back in her chair, relaxing a fraction.

The rest of the group stared after him in confusion. “Well, that’s a thing that happened,” said Raj. “Anybody want any more waffles?” Silence. “Just me then? Oooooookay, be right back.” He stood up and wandered over to the buffet line.

From the lobby, Diego’s voice drifted into the dining area. “I asked Varyyn to tell everyone, no need for battering rams! Just knock normally next time!”

“We apologize, Canis, Consort of the Elyyshar.” The doors opened and Diego entered, along with two Vaanti carrying a massive tree-trunk between them.

“Uh...what’s with the log?” asked Michelle.

Diego waved her question off, a slight blush creeping up his cheeks. “Just...uh...a little confusion. Point is, finish your plates, because we’re heading to Elyys’tel!”

Raj was walking back to the table at that moment, a massive stack of waffles on his plate. Craig’s eyes widened at the sight and he jumped out of his chair, sprinting over to the buffet table. “Bet you 50 bucks I can eat more!” he shouted.

“Craig, no, c’mon--” Sean started to say.

“You’re on, dude!” Raj shouted back, taking a seat and drizzling his waffles with syrup.

Diego sighed and sat down. “On second thought, this brunch might take longer than I thought...” he said. “Uh... so, anyone seen any good movies, lately?

After about another hour of watching Craig and Raj wolf down waffles, and another couple of hours trekking through the jungle, the eleven Catalysts finally broke through the treeline and emerged at the base of Elyys’tel. Varyyn was standing at the entrance, flanked by Seraxa and three other Vaanti warriors. The elyyshar broke into a massive grin when he spotted the group. “My friends! Welcome! Diego had told me you were coming. This is a joyous occasion!” He waved the warriors and escorts away and raced forward, pulling Diego into a bear hug that lifted him straight off of the ground, spinning him around before setting him back down. He straightened and looked at the others, one by one. “I am delighted to see you all once again. Come!”

As the Catalysts followed Varyyn into the city proper, Sean noticed Seraxa following, looking him up and down appraisingly. “Aquila. It is a joy to see you again.”

Sean smiled. “You, too, Seraxa.” He looked around at their surroundings, admiring the extensions and additional levels and structures that had been added to the city since the last time he had been to the island. “I like what you’ve all done with the place.”

“We had a lot of help. The workers that Cygnus and Serpens provided to us have been most useful, especially since we lost so many warriors in battle with the Hydra.” It took Sean a few moments to realize she was referring to Grace and Aleister.

“Kee-la! Hi!” shouted a small voice. Sean bent down and scooped Taari up into his arms, laughing.

“Whoa! You’ve gotten bigger!” he observed as the Vaanti boy giggled.

“Yep! I’m gonna be a warrior soon! Rar!”

Sean set the boy down. “Wow, you sure are scary!” Then he glanced over at Seraxa. “Warrior? But there’s no one left here to fight...”

“Shh. Don’t tell him that,” replied the war chief.

Taari suddenly stopped in his tracks, looking around at the rest of the group. “Kee-la, where’s Dromma? Are they back from their trip yet? I wanna say hi!”

The entire group stopped in its tracks. Seraxa’s eyes widened suddenly. “Oh! Uh...Andromeda has gone a very far way away. They are still on their long journey, but the other Catalysts have come back in the meantime!”

“That’s not true! I saw Dromma yesterday!”

Seraxa laughed halfheartedly and patted Taari’s head. “I’m sure you did. Run along and play now, I want you at your best for the Wind Talking ceremony tonight!”

Taari pouted. “Do I have to?”

“Yes.”

“Aww.... Oh well. Bye, Cat-a-lissus!” He waved at the others and scampered off across a bridge.

An awkward silence followed this exchange. Sean, finally, was the first one to break it. “...What did you tell him about Taylor?” he asked.

Seraxa shook her head, a faint dark green tinge visible on her cheeks. “I told him that Andromeda is on a long journey with Vaanu. I did not wish to burden him with sorrow at such a young age. I...neglected to mention this earlier. I apologize.”

“No need to worry, Seraxa. I get it. It was a little awkward, but I get it.” Sean pushed his thoughts of Taylor out of his mind and put on a smile. “So! Who’s up for some wind-disc later?”

“Diego and I accept your challenge!” Varyyn called out from the front of the group.

“Whoa, I never agreed--” stammered Diego.

“Fine, then I’m with my bro!” declared Craig. “Let’s do this!”

That night, the Catalysts prepared for the Wind Talking ceremony. Varyyn and Seraxa had provided each of them with formal Vaanti attire for the occasion, which Sean appreciated after spending all day in a t-shirt sticky with humidity. The eleven of them stood in a single file line along a massive branch at the top of Elyys’tel, a set of flimsy-looking wooden railings being all that separated them from a very long fall. “I... I don’t know about this,” stammered Grace nervously. “Have I mentioned I don’t like heights?”

“Fear not, Grace. When these weak structural barriers inevitably fail, I will keep you safe from falling,” Aleister reassured her. “It’s simple physics, given the discrepancies between our respective body mass and my impeccable sense of balance.”

“You’re right. Even if I were to fall, if you held me tightly by the hand, the vector force would be sufficient enough to overcome the pull of gravity--”

Sean turns his attention to the leafy “altar” at the tip of the branch, where Varyyn stands resplendent in his full regalia. The Vaanti leader holds up two of the massive leaves they had all been given earlier, each one significantly bigger than an ordinary sheet of paper. “Tonight, we commence the Ceremony of the Wind Talking. For those of you unfamiliar with this tradition, we will each step forward to this place where I now stand. Face the wind, and read your words to your departed ones in a soft, clear voice. Allow the wind to carry the words, and when you are finished, release the leaf and pause. Let the rustling of the branches carry the departed one’s reply back to you.”

Varyyn then turned around, stepping to the very edge of the branch. He held up his first leaf, and began to read aloud, though too softly for Sean and the others to hear. They waited quietly, though Taari started to shuffle impatiently. When Varyyn was finished, he held the leaf aloft and released it, letting the wind catch it and carry it upwards and upwards until it was lost to the night sky. He paused for several moments, eyes closed and face raised to the sky, listening.

When this was done, Varyyn repeated the process with his second leaf. “Two leaves?” Sean heard Quinn whisper, curiosity in her voice.

“One for Taylor, one for Ximaedra, I bet,” Michelle whispered back.

When Varyyn was finished, he turned and walked silently back toward the group. He nodded to Diego, who took his own leaf in hand and stepped forward to the tip of the branch.

The rest of the Catalysts went in turn, as did Seraxa with Taari at one point. Grace and Aleister did their wind-talking together, but the rest went individually. Sean hung back, knowing his letter would take the longest to read, and letting himself go last for the others’ sake. Finally, it was Sean’s turn. Slowly, confidently, he strode to the edge of the branch, looking out along the La Huerta horizon to the point where the sky met the sea.

Opening his letter, Sean read it aloud:

Dear Taylor,

I don’t know where you are, or even if you’re still “you,” but I hope you’re happy and at peace. I wish we could have had more time together, but I, maybe more than anyone else in our group, understand making the hard call. The sacrifice play. I may not have liked it, I still resent that you were forced into the choice at all, but I’ve accepted it. I would’ve done the same thing in your place.

I’m on my way back to La Huerta now; it’s been a year and a day since I became your husband, and exactly a year since the day we left, and we’ve decided to celebrate with a reunion...where else but the place it all began. And no, I don’t mean suddenly breaking out into song on Jake’s plane, even if that was the moment I first fell in love with you.

Know this, Taylor, the love of my life: I may have moved on, I may have accepted our circumstances and tried to push my life forward in spite of this hole in my heart, but that doesn’t mean I’ve forgotten you. I will cherish the memories of our time spent together for the rest of my life. Whenever I look up at the stars, I will think of you, wondering if you’re out there somewhere, with Vaanu, looking back down at me. And I know it’s impossible, but if I had one wish, it would be to hold you in my arms. One last time.

Love, forever and always,

Sean Gayle

He was barely able to finish the letter as the tears began to flow down his face. He stared at the horizon for several long minutes, letter clutched in his fist. He heard a commotion and some muttering from the group behind him, and he knew they were getting impatient, but he needed this. He needed this moment. He took a deep, shuddering breath, held the letter aloft, and released it.

Sean closed his eyes and turned his face to the sky. The breeze whipped through the boughs of the great tree, and he concentrated, hoping to hear some fragment of Taylor’s voice. If he strained, he could almost hear words...and if he really tried hard, he could even hear that familiar voice....

“Sean, I...I’m glad you didn’t rage against my choice, or try to stop me. I knew you’d understand. It was the toughest choice I ever had to make, you know. But I hope... I hope you haven’t moved on too much. I’d like to grant you your wish, and so much more. Because this time, I’m here to stay.”

Sean blinked and shook his head. His own wishful thoughts had definitely taken over toward the end there. He knew logically that it wasn’t really Taylor, it was just his own thoughts and mind interpreting the sound of wind on leaves as words, but for just a moment, he had wanted so badly to believe... part of him still half-expected to see Taylor there, smiling at him, when he turned back around. Don’t be ridiculous. C’mon, Sean Gayle, he told himself before preparing to rejoin the others at the base of the tree.

He turned around.... And he stopped. His mouth fell open. He blinked, then rubbed his eyes, then pinched himself, then pinched harder, because they HAD to be an illusion. There was just. No. Way. But it was: behind them, the others were watching, enraptured, and it was clear they could see the figure standing before him as clearly as they saw Sean himself.

“TOLD’JA I SAW DROMMA! TOLD’JA THEY CAME BACK FROM THEIR TRIP!”

“God dammit, Raj, how much do I owe you?”

“Five hundred bucks, dude! I told you, Raj is always right! Called it, a year and a day to the minute!”

“It’s just... utterly illogical! How...?”

“Al, logical or not, I’m happy to accept it.”

“Guys, let them have their moment.”

But Sean heard none of this. The whole rest of the world could have vanished right then and there, and he wouldn’t have noticed. All of his attention was fixated on the person standing there before him.

“Hi, Sean. Did you miss me?”

@mysteli @brightpinkpeppercorn (yes I know it’s three days late sorry!)

[dammitadolfnomorecake]

DOTW 29 - Full

It was now the fifth day of their holiday and they off exploring the coast line in rented sedan. Zeke's ashes were in Eren's lap where the omega had been playing with the box they were in for the whole trip. Heading along the coast, they were driving towards where the terrain turned from the smooth beaches and into the steep cliffs. It would have been so much easier if Eren had just scattered the ashes at the waters edge, but his boyfriend didn't want people swimming through Zeke's remains, and when he'd put it that way, it was kind of gross. The idea of bits of Zeke washing onto the beach, and sticking in the sand... that was just, a whole lot of messed up. Having checked the tour guides and attraction pamphlets for the area, he'd found a spot called "The Blowholes". Shaped by thousands of years of erosion, small holes had formed in the cliffs, meaning when a strong wave hit, the water would be forced up the hole in a shooting stream. Even if it wasn't the best place to scatter Zeke, it should still be pretty interesting. After that, he'd planned on taking Eren to see the natural hot water spring, the finally a drive through the plantations. Living in the city, the kid probably hadn't ever really given any thought to where the food they ate came from. Parking at The Blowholes, Levi eyed the masses of tourists. Steel fencing had been erected to keep them off the cliff, but that meant nothing to most people these days. They were happy to die if meant a chance at an amazing selfie. Climbing from the car, Zeke was left on the front passenger seat, while Eren jogged over to his side "What is this place?" "You'll see soon" No sooner had the words come out his mouth, a stream of water shot through one of the holes, leaving a rainbow in its wake "Oh my god! Did you see that?!" "Yep" "Levi! That is so cool! I need photos" He'd thought that meant photos of the water, not photos of them together while Eren tried to get the rainbow behind them. It felt like it took a hundred shots for Eren to get one he was happy with, though he did get plenty of kisses to the cheek during it all, so it wasn't all terrible. Since telling Eren about Isabel and Farlan, the omega hadn't shied away once. He'd caught him sitting on the balcony smoking a single cigarette in Isabel's memory, and had sat down to listen while he rattled on about some story from when they were young. Even if it'd been 15 years, it felt like only yesterday that they met. The memories flowing back so easily. Almost too easily. By the end of it all, he was sure he'd never talked that much in his life. Walking down along the fence line, the stopped so Eren could take photos of the tourist information board, with all the do's and don't's. That everyone else was happily ignoring. Finding out there was small war memorial just a little further along the road, Eren didn't even have a chance to ask if they could go, before he was saying yes. This was why holidays were bad. He couldn't say no to Eren at the best of times. A 20 minute drive down a rough gravel road wasn't his idea of fun, not with all the dust kicked up by the traffic. Then Eren saw two horses wandering through the low scrub on the road side, so they'd had to stop so he could take photos, clearly disappointed when the pair didn't come closer. At the war memorial, Eren took another hundred odd photos. It was a steep climb from the small dirt carpark, but was nice in its own way. Like most war memorials, it had a huge anchor, as well as neat marble wall panels naming the soldiers who'd died in the last great conflict with Marley. Eren seemed to be especially proud when he found and L. Ackerman, and an E. Yeager on the lists. Declaring that in another life they'd been soldiers and it had been a tragic love story of two star-crossed lovers. He was 90 percent sure Eren didn't know what it meant, but didn't want to dampen his enthusiasm. Urged to stand next to his "name", it was slightly spooky when a random Gull swooped down to land atop the panel. It's red rimmed eyes staring right into his before it cawed and flew away. He'd just been slipping back into thinking about Isabel. After taking a photo of Eren next to "his name", they headed back down to the car. Eren pausing to pick a bright pink flower off one of the numerous sprawling succulent plants surrounding the walkway. The natural springs was a half an hour drive back along the main road, and then another 5 minutes down a dirt one. The sight over grown with weeds and reeds, while the smell of Sulfur had him wrinkling his nose. Taking photos of everything, Eren nearly lost his phone as he tried to get a good photo of the water flowing from the rust pipe system installed to once water stock. Of course they couldn't drink hot water, so it instead fed off into a concrete tank to cool. By running it through a series of concrete channels, the surface area of the water was increased, allowing for a wider surface to cool at once. Or that's what the sign said in much more technical terms. Even if it might have seemed boring to some, Eren seem really excited to be learning about new things. He had no idea that erosion could form things like The Blowholes, that Paradis had even been at war with Marley, or that natural springs actually existed and his books weren't lying. With the next stop being the plantations, they stopped off at a banana plantation, where Eren ditched him for the huge aviaries of all kinds of birds. Unlike almost all the other plantations in the area, this one was open for public visits and tours... He didn't love yours, and he loved them even less by the end of it. He had fucking filthy rotten bits of banana stuck to the bottom of his shoes. His toes curling as his feet tried to escape the filth. With it being nearly lunch time, they grabbed lunch there. Eren being the little shit that he was, and eating a banana so provocatively, he'd popped a boner of it. The things Eren could do with a banana and his plump pink lips was better than soft core porn, and all he'd done was eat the damn thing. They'd also picked up a few small souvenirs there. A key chain bottle opener for both Moblit and Hanji, while Erwin got banana, the whole where the bananas banana would be if he had one. For Eren they'd picked out a dorky looking snow globe. The banana inside dressed as snow man which made absolutely no sense... yet Eren thought it was cute, and that was enough for him to be handing over his debit card. * Eren was enjoying their drive. There was so much to see outside of the concrete of Shinganshima. Everything was so green and bright. And completely fascinating. Time was running out to find a place to lay Zeke at rest, but after Levi had been so open with him, his attention had mostly been on making sure Levi was doing ok with everything. It felt good and scary at the same time. He felt even closer to Levi. Like he understood why he did what he did, and it was fucking scary. He didn't want to see Levi that scared or upset all over again. He didn't want his boyfriend to suffer alone anymore. Turning off the main road, Eren had no clue what was happening. Wild scrub along both sides of the road seemed to thicken until a small carpark appeared on the right side. Pulling into the carpark, Eren looked to his right. There was a small wooden bridge leading over what seemed to be a river. Tall weeping trees draped over the sides of the river, giving it the impression that no body had been in here in years "Want to go take a look? The bridge has to lead somewhere" "You don't mind?" "How often do we see nature like this?" Levi hated nature. The man definitely out of his element on the beach, though he tolerated it enough for them to wade around in the water. Unlike him, Levi could swim and Eren could watch him swimming around all day. It was the first time he'd seen Levi in any kind of shorts other than the boxers he wore over his boxer briefs in the summer. He loved watching the way Levi's muscles and rippled. A blush settling on his face as he grew aroused from the sight of his sexy alpha dripping wet. The only reason Levi would suggest the walk is because he knew Eren wanted to go. Leaving Zeke's ashes on the passenger seat, Eren scrambled out the car. The place was silent, even with the few ducks floating on the river. Jogging over to the bridge, he leant against the aged rails, once painted red but now faded to back to wood in places. Coming up behind him, Levi wrapped his arms around him, kissing his shoulder "What do think?" "It's pretty. Where do you think the river goes?" "Out to the ocean. I think it's connected to the same river that runs through Shinganshima" "It's so quiet... it feels like we're the only people in the world" "I think I could live with that" Turning his head, Eren kissed Levi's forehead awkwardly "I think you'd get bored pretty quickly" "I don't... this place is kind of nice" "Mmm. Do you want to follow the path?" "Did you get enough photos of the ducks?" "I haven't taken any yet" Levi felt his front pocket, pulling his phone out for him "I know you'll regret it if you don't" How did he manage to scored himself the best alpha in the world? Snapping a couple of photos of the ducks, then squealing when he realised there ducklings, Levi patiently waited for him "Can we take a few together?" "If you want to?" "I do... I don't ever want to forget this. Being here with you" "Who would have thought you'd be so sappy?" "I'm an omega, it comes with the dynamic" "We both know you're not your dynamic" Eren snorted. He was very much a slave to his dynamic, no matter what he did. Even now, he was slicking at the feeling of being in his boyfriends arms "Maybe..." Turning in Levi's arms, he stole a kiss. Levi, squeezing his arse in response to the stolen kiss. Mewing, he broke the kiss "That's not fair" "What's the point of having a boyfriend with such a fine arse, if I can't grope you" "If you keep groping me, I can't be blamed for my actions" "What are you going to do? Kiss me?" "Exactly" "I'm so scared" "You better be..." Kissing Levi again, his boyfriend ground up against him. The pair of them very much in their own world until the ducks behind them quacked and splashed loud enough for Eren to break the kiss with a sigh. He wanted to be with Levi physically, but needed just a little longer. It was moments like this that sucked the most. Maybe if they'd been a normal couple, Levi would have bent him over and fucked him right there... fuck... his cheeks reddened as he caught a whiff of his own aroused scent. He wished Levi was like every other alpha he'd met, the ones who couldn't read or even smell his scent. But he also wouldn't change a single think about the man "You look like you shat yourself, brat" "What the fuck am I supposed to say to that?" "No?" Rolling his eyes, he forced Levi to turn around, and leaned down to place his chin on Levi's shoulder "Shut up and smile for me" Levi scowled at the camera, Eren unable to hide his smile "You're not smiling" "Because you're a shit" "Mmm... probably. Now smile" Instead of smiling, Levi kissed his cheek. With his thumb over the camera button, he ended up with like 50 copies of the photo. Not that he minded "I like this one" "Eren, I've been meaning to ask. I know you were scared of leaving a paper trail, when you were with Zeke. But can I make a photo of us my online profile photo?" "You... want to use a photo with me in it?" "With your permission... you're my boyfriend. I want to show the world" Eren swallowed down the scream of happiness. Levi's ear was right near his mouth "I... are you sure? I'm not the special..." "You're my boyfriend. I want the world to know you're mine" Oh fuck... he squealed right into Levi's ear. But after a confession like that, he couldn't stop himself "Yes!" "Oi. Fuck. That was my ear" "Sorry. I tried not to... but..." "You got excited?" "Yeah..." "It's alright. And I won't change a thing without your permission" "Levi, do you think I could make an account?" "You want to make an account? On what?" "I don't know... I just. Want to know more about you" "All you have to do is ask. I'm honestly not on social media all that much. But Hanji and Erwin are. And Moblit" "If I make it an account, does everyone see it?" "Why don't be take a look when we get back to the room?" "Mmm. Ok. Exploring first?" "Alright, lets go exploring" The gravel path leading from the bridge lead up to a look out. The river cutting through the dense scrub before. It was... it took his breath away. He had no idea what the plants surrounding him where, but they were beautiful... wiping at his face, he knew this was the place. This tiny place where no one came, and the environment hadn't been ruined by concrete and roads "Everything ok?" "Here... I want to scatter his ashes here" Levi took half a step back, but then his alpha grabbed his hand, forcing him to face him as his hand came up to cup his cheek "Are you sure?" "It's beautiful... and so peaceful. I hope wherever he is, he's at peace. That's the only thing I want... him to rest peacefully. He didn't have a happy life, and his... he deserves peace" "And you're sure?" "Yeah... Levi, do you think the river leads out to the ocean?" "It does" "I think it'd be nice if he could see all this, before seeing the ocean... if I died, I think I'd like to rest in a place like this" Levi's face softened, he sighed softly "Alright. But I don't want to think of you dying" "I'm not going anywhere... I couldn't leave you to find a better omega" "I couldn't find a better one... maybe one who's less of a brat" "It's not my fault I'm a brat" "No. I'm just a dirty old man" "A sexy old man" Levi huffed at him "I'm sorry. You're the only dirty old man I could ever want" "That's better" "I... I really care about you Levi. I've never met anyone like you before. You're so gentle to me, and so kind. I don't want another alpha. Any other alpha... you're all that I could ever want" "Eren..." "I know I'm young. And you're probably going to say that I might change my mind, but I won't. You make me so happy" "I was going to say, I have no intention of sharing you" "That's even better" Levi rose on his tiptoes to kiss his forehead "Lets go get Zeke" Levi asked him if he wanted to say some words before scattering Zeke's ashes. He didn't know how to sum up the time he'd spent with Zeke. He didn't know how to thank Zeke for taking him in. For helping him find his voice again, and for saving him from the hell his life had been. He didn't know how to thank Zeke for holding him when he screamed or cried, or for all the times his brother cleaned him up. How to thank him for all the times he changed his bed sheets for him after losing control of his bodily functions, not used to having access to the toilet anymore. He didn't know how to thank him for teaching him how to dance. For giving him a way to express what he was feeling in a way that wasn't screaming or breaking things. When he'd first got out of hospital, the rehabilitation therapist had suggested yoga and gentle stretches to help him build his strength back up. Zeke had told him that. But looking at everything, it seemed a boring way to go. His brother said he'd never smiled when he'd first taken him in, so Zeke had looked into forms of rehab. Settling in dancing. Exotic dancing might not have been what Zeke was thinking, but his brother didn't stop him. He'd taught him what he needed to get by. How to talk. How to walk. How to do... everything. How was he supposed to thank Zeke for everything he did? And how was he supposed to apologise for being the one to cause his death? For all the times he disappointed him. For all the times he was bad omega who deserved to be hit. He missed him. He missed him so much... climbing down the side of the clay river bank, Eren sniffled as he opened the box. Zeke's ashes sealed in the bag inside. He wasn't sure he could do this. He didn't want to let him go. He didn't want to lose him, forever. But he wanted him to rest in peace... and leaving him in the bottom of the wardrobe wasn't ok. Taking the weight of the box in his hands, Eren nodded his thanks. His hands shaking like crazy as he lifted the bag out. It wasn't as heavy as he thought it would be. Not nearly heavy enough to be them remains of a whole human person. His brother hadn't exactly been small. How did a living, breathing person turn into this? They'd said his body was too decomposed or something for him to see him. If Levi had been listening, he could have explained it to him. But if Levi had listened, he would have known he wasn't telling them everything. The questions he'd ask would be dangerous... "Eren, if you're not up to this..." "I do... this is the right place. I know it is" "Ok..." Opening the bag, Eren took a handful of ashes. His anger flaring over his brother being taken from him. He'd been the last of his family and now he was this. The ashes felt weightless in his hand. Holding the handful of ash above the water, he let out a sob as he forced his fingers to uncurl. He tried to say "Thank you" to Zeke. That he loved him. That he missed him. That he needed him and that he was sorry. Nothing came out. Everything on his lips falling silently between the sobs. This was it. Zeke would be gone forever. Finally free of his duties of looking after him... Small handful after small handful was sprinkled on the water, until the bag was empty. Running his hand through the water, Zeke's ashes were already sinking. His knees going weak as he forced himself not to fish his brother back out the river. Catching him, Levi lifted him off his feet. The box ending up in his lap as his boyfriend nuzzled into him "You did so good. I'm sure Zeke knows everything you wanted to say. And I'm sure he's happy to be laid to rest here" He wanted to go home. Or at least back to the hotel room. He hated the place for taking his brother him from him, and he loved it for being the perfect place for him to rest. It Zeke had been alive, he was sure he'd like it. It was so pretty that you couldn't help but like it. So upset that he felt sick, Levi noticed. He carried him out the river, slipping on the bank and never complaining. With his head on Levi's shoulder, his eyes were glued on the spot where Zeke was now. Finding the tiniest bit of his voice, he whispered "Thank you for loving me" If Levi heard, he didn't say. His boyfriend carrying him over to the passenger side. Being a low sitting sedan, it wasn't quite as easy to lower him in. Eren climbing out Levi's hold without saying anything. He couldn't stop crying, and his taxed mind couldn't thank his boyfriend. He just didn't have the mental energy to do anything but be miserable. Levi took all over in his stride. His boyfriend took his shoes and socks off for him, dd his seatbelt, covered him with his jacket from the back seat and kissed him softly "I'm going to drive us home now. Or do you want to stay a little longer?" If they stayed, he was sure he'd go crazy. That he'd throw himself in the water and beg to die. To be with him. He was supposed to die with him... he was never supposed to be with Levi. With a pitiful look on his face, he looked to Levi "Ok. Give me a moment" It really did seem to take a forever for Levi to climb into the sedan after closing the door for him. Throwing his phone up onto the dash, Levi then placed his hand on his leg "I looked at the sign. This place is called Ymir's Pool. So you know" He hadn't even thought about that. He'd just dumped Zeke... in a place he didn't know the name of... What kind of person did that make him? The river wasn't that deep, the sun reaching to the bottoms of it. Once the sun set, it'd be so cold. Hanji had explained that bodies were kept cold in the morgue. His brother locked away in a cold box for months, before being scattered in a river that would turn just as cold. Closing his eyes, his thoughts went to Zeke laying at the bottom of the river. Trapped under all that water with no hope for escape. At some point he'd fallen asleep on the way back to the hotel. The thought of Zeke being cold had taken such a hold on his fragile mind that he'd dreamed a nightmare of his brother trapped under the water drowning. His mouth open, screaming as his hands reached for him. Bubbles were all he could see. Bubbles from Zeke's soundless screams. When Levi woke him, his heart was racing so fast that he feel the thudding in his head. His boyfriend looked at him so sadly. He didn't have any words to comfort Levi. To make things right. It wasn't until Levi went to help him from the car that he found he'd scratched his arms again. The scabbing wounds bleeding beneath his sleeves. He couldn't deal with this. He'd never felt like he was right now. He'd known it was the perfect place to lay Zeke to rest when he'd seen the view. His brother would make the journey to the ocean without him... and Eren would return home. Leaving him behind. If anyone was being left, he should have been it. Everyone left him, and every time his world shattered into thousands of pieces. The pain was raw, like the open wounds on his arms. It was the kind of pain he'd take a million times, to prevent anyone feeling it even just once. * Levi knew saying goodbye had broken Eren's heart. The omega's scent was painful, to both him and his alpha. It seemed to coat his tongue and leave a bad taste in his mouth. He'd hoped laying Zeke to rest would relieved the burden Eren carried on his shoulders. His boyfriend had chosen the place to say goodbye, but now he wondered if it was too soon. Eren might be long and lanky, not instinctively rousing the desire to protect from most alphas, yet he knew that was was far from the truth. His boyfriend was small, scared and fragile. Some days he oozed a confidence that blew him off his feet, but that was an act. It was the kind of confidence Eren wished for himself. Levi tried to see beyond, and most times he did, but this Eren in front of him... this was the Eren he'd seen when they'd first met. The broke boy who jumped and flinched at shadows. Saying goodbye to Zeke had brought him back to the surface. With clothes stained in filthy river stink, Levi took Eren through to the bathroom. Sitting him down in the bath, Eren barely seemed to notice as he stripped him down to his underwear. Checking to make sure the kid wasn't using a pad, he then turned the taps on and poured in way too much vanilla bodywash. Eren was in shock, his body cool and clammy to the touch. He needed to get him warmed back up. Moving to move away from his boyfriend, Eren reached out and took his hand. The touch was weak, Eren's hand would have slid from his if he hadn't curled his fingers slightly "Do you want me to stay?" There was a small tug on his hand "If I'm staying, I need to get out these filthy clothes" The river water had been fucking disgusting. His skin tried to shrink away from his equally revolting clothes. He never, ever, would have set foot in it if it wasn't for Eren. Both his and the kids sneakers were ruined by swamp mud from the bottom of the river. He'd binned both pairs in the rubbish bin of the hotel's car park, while Eren's was in his hold. With his legs loosely wrapped around his waist and his face against his shoulder, he was sure Eren hadn't even noticed them gone. They both had another pair of sneakers packed, and if Eren really liked them, he would buy him another pair. Letting Eren make the next move, his hand jerked back from Levi's with a soft whine "I'm just going to strip off. I'll keep my underwear on" He really wanted to take a fucking shower, for at least an hour and a half. But the water was already pouring into the bathtub, so redirecting it to either of the shower heads would result in poor pressure. Taking a couple of steps out of Eren's reach, he peeled his jeans off, wincing at the stink that came wafting back up from the source being disturbed. Next came his shirt. Eren letting out a kind of grunt as the garment hit the floor "Do you want me to leave?" Closing his eyes, Eren slid forward in the tub. His knees coming up to his chest as he wrapped his arms around them. With the bath being so big, there was barely three inches in the bottom of it "What do you need from me? What can I do to help?" Eren moved the thumb and pointer fingers of his right hand, turning them out slightly. Staring at it, it was the "ay" incident all over again. He thought it meant that Eren wanted him to stay, but without words, he didn't know "You want me to stay" His boyfriend didn't respond. What was he supposed to do now? If Eren wanted him to stay, he would. He looked scared and vulnerable... getting a new idea, he took a deep breath before stepping closer to the tub again. Stepping over the side, he sank down behind Eren and pulled him up between his legs. Instead of pulling away, or tensing, Eren slumped back against him. So this was what the omega wanted? His boyfriend to hold him. He could do this. There was nothing sexy about being in a bath in your underwear. Nor was there anything sexy about the smells of distressed omega, confused and agitated alpha, and river water. Using his toes to pull the plug out, he drained the bath of the river water mix, before sliding back into place. Being such a large bath, it was going to take a while before it filled. In his arms, Eren was still freezing cold with shock. Goosebumps covered his boyfriend skin. Rubbing Eren's arms, Eren whined softly against him. The whine slightly different as it was the sound of an omega in distress, calling for their alpha to soothe them. He was Eren's alpha, but they weren't bonded. He couldn't soothe Eren's fears completely like a bonded alpha could, and there was no way he was going to bond with Eren so soon into their relationship. Even if the omega said he was all he could want, and even if the urge to mark and claim him was strong, Eren needed time. The vibrant omega was still so young. He didn't want to limit his options or his future. Eren might be it for him. He was completely invested in him, and wanted a future with him, but one day, Eren might not feel the same way. And though he wanted to keep Eren by his side forever, he wouldn't force him to stay or make him feel obligated to with his mark, if he found someone he loved more than him. It took nearly half an hour to fill the bathtub just over half way. Eren was still whining softly for comfort, while Levi was nuzzling into his cheek in an attempt to provide it. He knew omegas purred when needing to calm themselves, but Eren wasn't purring like he'd seen him do so many times before. It made him wonder if Eren had finally given up his sad purr, now only choosing to purr when purely content and happy. Each omegas purr was slightly different, some not purring at all. Yet he was sure if he could get Eren purring, it would help calm his racing heart. It'd been a few hours since scattering Zeke, including the drive back, if Eren didn't calm down soon, he risked going into heat, and that would only make his boyfriend feel even worse. Plus, taking Eren on a plane while in heat was just not possible. Even if it was one of his semi-heats, the smell alone was enough to drive any alpha wild. Or at least him, as he seemed to be the only alpha in the world that picked it up. For his friends, they had to be up close to tell, basically touching his boyfriend. For him. Nope. He liked to think it was because Eren was "made" for him, despite the reality that it was a side effect from the trauma he'd suffered as a kid. Sitting Eren up in front of him, his boyfriend whined again. Starting with Eren's shoulders, he began to massage while keeping his lips near Eren's nape. It was a dirty trick. The napes of most people were incredibly sensitive, to touch there was only allowed by the person themselves or their mate. With gently kisses to the area, Eren mewed for him, his own nature turning against him as it calmed and tried to get more attention for the spot. Continuing to kiss, he alternated with mouthing until Eren was simply mewing and panting. The sadness in his scent had turned to arousal, which was kind of flirting with danger, but much more easy for him to bring Eren out of. Wrapping an arm around Eren's waist, he pulled him back up against him, resting his chin on his shoulder as his boyfriend slowly calmed his breathing back down to normal, the finally evened out as he fell asleep against him. With both himself and Eren washed down completely, something that he hoped his boyfriend wouldn't realise involved stripping him of his underwear, he carried Eren out to their bed where he finished drying him off, before dressing him in his underwear and the sweats he used for pyjamas. Next came dressing Eren's arms back up. Some of the scratches were definitely going to scar. Eren might use vitamin E cream for his scars, but it wasn't an overnight fix. It'd take weeks, and months for them to fade from such a deep and angry pink. Once that was done there was only one thing left to do, and that was to climb into bed with omega. Manhandle him so they were laying tangled up together, Eren's still damp hair was tickling his chest. Isabel's and Farlan's funerals had hit him hard. The same emotions he'd struggled through were now hitting his boyfriend much harder than they'd hit him. At least he got to see both of his friends bodies before their burial, while all Eren got was a pile of ashes. It had to fucking hurt, which is probably why Eren couldn't say what he'd wanted to. He'd have to until tomorrow to ask Eren if he wanted to go back to the spot and say a proper goodbye. He probably should have offered some kind of words as Eren scattered the ashes, but he had no love in his heart for Zeke. He'd used and manipulated Eren's good nature and natural desire to help and protect what he held dear, and fucked the omega right over. He'd turned him against the people who loved him, while Eren was blinded to it all by the love for his brother. Hanji called him a few hours later. Outside the balcony doors, the world was bathed in oranges and red from the sunset. He would have liked to have been able to take the call outside, but Eren had a firm hold on him. Making sure he didn't disturb his boyfriend, he swiped his thumb across the screen, before laying it down on his ear "Levi! Can you hear me?!" Fuck. Why did she have to yell?! "Keep your voice down, Eren's sleeping" "Oooooh, late night? Did you two finally do it again?! I hope you were careful and used protection" "No..." "Levi! Seriously!" "Shut up. We didn't have a light night. Eren scattered Zeke's ashes today, then had a bit of a meltdown" "My poor honey. Where did you scatter him? At the beach?" "No, we found a spot along the river that Eren liked. It hit him super hard" "Of course it did. He had to say goodbye today. Is he in heat? I can probably arrange time off to drive down if he is?" "No. Not the moment. I couldn't pull him out of like usual, so it's probably for the best he's sleeping right now" "Make sure you give him lots of love for me" "Not happening. Why are you disturbing my holiday?" "Oh! Oh... that's right. I had to take Titan over to Erwin's. He's fine, but when I got there today, there was a note on the door about the noise. I think the poor boy misses his humans" "So he's ok?" "Yeah. Just a bit lonely. He even came up to me for pats" "Desperate times call for desperate measures" "Rude! Hey, I know Eren's probably feeling really down, but you should take him out tonight" "What do you mean take him out? He isn't going to want to be in a crowd" "I mean just take him out dancing or something..." "Hanji, he's really not up for dancing" "He loves dancing. It'll help take his mind off everything. Or take him out for a nice dinner. If he stays inside, he's only going to get more depressed" "I think I know how to make my boyfriend feel better" "I'm not saying you don't, but..." "Hanji, I've got it handled. I'm going before he wakes up" "Fiiiine. I only called to see how my honey was, and to let you know about Titan" Ending the call, Levi looked down at Eren's hair. Maybe Hanji was right.... Maybe instead of cuddling, Eren needed a distraction.