#I wasn’t planning for these to be interconnected fics but it seems to be going that way

[theflagscene]

One Year of Not Me Prompt Week: Day Two - Favourite character / Protest / Love

Pairing: ToddBlack

Rating: Teen

Word Count: 2235

Warnings: None

Summary: Black can’t seem to stay away from Todd, he refuses to believe it’s because of love, no matter what Todd or his own heart is telling him.

[cellard0ors]

Fic: Movement (2/?)

Still dedicated to the wonderful @peachworthy. you read part one than you know - GMM Rhink AU - College Student Link/Pornstar Rhett AU

“Got it right again, man! You’re going to ace this test!” Rhett crows as he tosses down another notecard and Link pumps his arms in triumph. The two of them are settled in the kitchen, piles of books and notecards spread around as well as few bottles of beers and some bowls of chips.

Link picks up one chip and pops it into his mouth, grinning at his roommate fondly, “Well, couldn’t’ve done it without you, pal. You are, without a doubt, the best study buddy I’ve ever had.”

“Aw shucks, gonna make me blush,” Rhett laughs even though it’s Link who feels his cheeks actually grow warm, his friend’s laughter a common cause of the occurrence.

They’ve been living together for over a month now and it’s been beyond amazing. Link would’ve never guessed a guy like Rhett and a guy like him would work so well together.

It’s like they’re the world’s weirdest, most convoluted puzzle yet all the pieces click together to form a full picture that is nothing short of a masterpiece. True, there’s a lot about Rhett Link doesn’t know yet (and gosh is there a lot he wants to know) but their friendship is running smoothly.

Well, smoothly save for the massive crush Link has on the guy, albeit he’s doing his damned best to squash it. Yes, Rhett’s attractive and yes, he’s the first guy Link’s ever met that he’s felt a real zing for, but the fact of the matter is – Link would much rather have him as a friend and roommate than lose him as a…well, Link’s not sure if he’d lose him, but the mere possibility keeps Link’s lips sealed.

Besides, it’s okay to crush on someone and never act on it. People do it all the time. Not to mention that it’s a bit…odd to crush on someone in Rhett’s line of work. Isn’t it?

Link can’t think of too many people who will admit to crushing on an adult film star. Regular, mainstream film stars, sure – but adult film stars?

Yeah…

Although, to be frank, Link’s sure there are some that do. And, hopefully, some of them are not the creepy internet troll-y kind of people, but genuine salt of the earth folks like himself. Because, okay, he is crushing on one so…

Rhett is toying with the cards, maybe looking for the next question to quiz Link on when he asks idly, “Y’know, Link – I gotta say, I admire your stamina.”

That remarks makes Link choke on the drink he’s just been consuming, a cough clearing it up some as he croaks, “I’m-I’m sorry?”

Rhett hums noncommittally, as if not noticing the gaffe, “You’ve had yet to grill me about my job. Normally, once folks hear about it, that’s all they want to talk about.”

“Oh,” Link breathes out loosely, “Well, ah-? It-? It just…seemed rude to-to ask…”

“Been over a month living with me now. You telling me you ain’t interested?”

“I didn’t say that!” Link quips back much quicker than he would like, but Rhett just gives him the most perfect smile. All sincere and warm beneath his beard and remember, Link, you’re doing you’re best not to crush on him!

Rhett is still toying with the cards, eyelashes downcast, the very visual definition of shy as he murmurs, “Just sayin’…I don’t mind if you wanna ask some stuff.”

Link’s eyebrows rise in such a way as to damn near bump his glasses off, “Y-You sure?”

Rhett draws in a deep inhale and then sits the cards down. He crosses his arms and leans back in his seat, looking quite serious even despite the casual red flannel and jeans, as if this was more of an interview (or perhaps an interrogation?) than anything else, “Shoot.”

The a million and one questions that Link has kept at bay about Rhett’s job and more personal life threaten to cave his skull in as they crash about in his mind. However, he has to go with the obvious, “Know this’ll be predictable, but…why?”

Rhett just bobs his head in an understanding nod even as Link pushes on, “Why and how?”

Rhett sucks on his teeth before picking up his own beer and taking a fortifying sip before continuing, “The two are kinda interconnected to be honest. Had a fallin’ out with my family. Think I mentioned it in passin’ to you once. But, to clarify; they weren’t too happy with my chosen living destination nor with the fact that I’d come to terms with the notion that I’m attracted to both the ladies and the gents.”

Link’s mind immediately (and joyously) clings to ‘the gents’ remark, bookmarking it for future reference, even as Rhett continues his tale, “You grew up where we did. So you get it.”

Link does. And then, to nail the point home, Rhett adds, “Probably get it a lot more than others. If my…instincts are to be believed.”

Shit.

SHIT.

Link’s whole body immediately bursts into flame, the tips of his ears so hot he’s sure they’re glowing bright red.

Rhett knows I’m gay. He knows. I thought having a radar for that kind of thing was bullhonkey, but he knows and oh, lord, oh lord – do I give off some sorta vibe? I know that girl in my screenwriting class, Stevie, she teased me about being an A-Level twink or something, but I didn’t think-!

Rhett’s laughter carves right through Link’s insecurities, “Take a breath, brother! Look like you’re about to pop!”

Link does and Rhett just shakes his head, still grinning, “Point being – I was pretty much a babe in the woods when I came to LA. Not two nickels to my name, so I took whatever gigs I could get. Managed to snag a few commercials and things of that nature, but you know the drill. Jobs are hard to come by. And a guy of my height?”

He blows out a big breath and tosses all of those luxurious curls about with a rueful head shake, “Yeah, most people fingered me for a baller, so – again – jobs were hard to come by. But then, wouldn’t you know it? A friend of a friend of a contact told me about this part they thought I’d be perfect for.”

Another deep barrel chested chuckle emerges as he reminiscences, “Mighta been nice of ‘em to let me know it was actually a part of me they thought would be perfect.”

Do not zero in on his crotch! Do NOT zero in on his crotch! Charles Lincoln Neal the Third DO NOT-!

Link keeps his eyes so steadfastly forward he probably looks like some bug eyed zombie. If Rhett notices, he doesn't comment, “Anyway, when I found out what the role was, I had planned to politely decline but, y’know, the money they offered…”

There’s an easy shrug and this Link can look at. He looks at Rhett, who looks a bit sheepish as he scratches at one side of his beard, “I mean, again, you grew up where I did. So, you know how the whole ‘wait until marriage’ thing was drilled into your head, but I figured it wasn’t like anybody would know. My family’d cut me off, my friends were few and far in between, and the people on set…”

Now he looks a bit happier and Link can’t help but smile along with him, “The people on set were all right. I don’t know if you’ve ever heard the kind of stories people tend to spin – the exploitation, the drug abuse, other questionable stuff…place I was at wasn’t like that. I mean, maybe I just lucked out or something, but it was…”

Another shrug and he goes for his beer again. Link figures this is as good a time as any to get in another question, “So, you did that and then you…? Just kept going?”

Rhett nods as he drinks, the bottle leaving his mouth with an obscene pop that Link is going to do his best to forget all about right now and certainly not recall at any point in the future (and most certainly NOT when he’s jacking off later), “Yeah, I did the one and the director really liked me. He pull me aside and told me about this company he was trying to set up with a couple of buddies of his. They wanted to go in a classier direction – know how funny that sounds, but he was serious.”

“So, what? No, like, blockbuster porno knock offs? Like ‘Sex in The City and ON the City’ or ‘Arma-get-it-on’?”

“Think you stole that last one from an episode of CSI.”

“I did, doesn’t change the question.”

They’re both smiling like a couple of fools, but the mood is good and the atmosphere light as Rhett sighs, “Yeah, nothing like that. I’ve actually worked with a few female directors, shot some things with great budgets, nice lighting, good costumes…”

“Oooo, costumes,” Link teases in the silliest voice and Rhett swats out at him. Link avoids the hit even as Rhett rolls his eyes, “I’m serious, dude. Some of the things that department pumps out looks better than anything you’d see in Hollywood.”

“Hmm, some kinda wood,” Link snickers and this time Rhett’s swat makes impact, brushing Link’s shoulder and Link would be embarrassed by the giggle he lets out, if it weren’t for the way Rhett’s nose is all scrunched up, making him look beyond adorable, “You’re sucha brat!”

Link sticks out his tongue and Rhett just laughs. They turn their attention to the drinks and chips for awhile before Link circles around to another question, “You like it then?”

“It’s a living,” Rhett confirms, not really answering one way or another, “Like I said – make great money, work with some really nice people.”

“Uh,” Link scratches behind one ear, “Hate to ask, but, um…clean people?”

Rhett doesn’t seem offended, “You bet. Have to be. Another reason I’ve done this as long as I have. Money's great, but the safety is even better. I’m currently under contract with that same company I told you about – the one that director brought me under. On top of wanting to,” he air quotes his next words, “be classier’-”

He drops the quotes, “They wanted to provide an excellent work environment. Heck, me and the other actors and actresses probably have a cleaner bill of health than the entire state. Can’t shoot scene one until you’ve got the A-Okay.”

“Huh,” Link absorbs that with some surprise, but then, he supposes it really shouldn’t be. The adult film industry is a big lumbering beast right alongside it’s more recognized counterpart. No reason one shouldn’t be as cautious as the other. If anything, one has more right to be cautious.

Thinking on this, Link suddenly feels an odd pang. It’s a shame in one way that’s one viewed as more reckless than the other, more questionable. But, when viewed through a mostly puritan lens…

Not wanting to get too philosophical, Link switches gears, “You been in a lot of films?”

“My fair share.”

Another dodge, but Link will let him have it. However, he can practically feel devil horns rise as he asks with a naughty gleam to his eye, “Win any awards?”

Rhett’s practically preening, “Several.”

“Really?” Link asks with some surprise, but Rhett suddenly looks quite naughty himself. Naughty and…a bit too hot for Link’s liking as the heat that always seems to surround him when he’s near Rhett rises and woo boy, he’s really failing at this squashing-the-crush thing.

“If you’re a good boy, maybe I’ll show you one of my trophies some time…”

Everything in Link melts into a puddle and he’s not sure what expression he’s wearing, but it’s one that makes Rhett’s whole face light up, “…or maybe, just maybe, I’ll show you a little somethin’ else…”

If it’s possible for a melted puddle to also explode, then Link’s just done it. Rhett bursts into guffaws as he reaches forward and, very smoothly, pushes Link’s jaw up because Link’s jaw? It dropped. He didn’t even feel it drop.

And then, to just add more fuel to the fire, Rhett rubs the pad of his thumb along the bottom of Link’s chin, right below his lip, “Damn, son…you’re just too much for words.”

“I…”

That’s it.

That’s all that Link can offer.

Just one sound, one vowel.

Silent and stunned and Rhett draws back, looking like the cat that ate the canary as he lets him go and rises up from his seat, “Think you need a moment. I’ll be back in a bit.”

And – just like that – Rhett saunters out of the room.

[mjsparkour]

Okay, I asked you a while back for some fic recs and I am in need of more. Have you read any Gina x Ricky lately? Would love for you to share the ones you've loved

Hey!

I’m so glad you liked my rec the last time, there have been alot of fics that have been written since you last asked so this list was super hard to limit. There are alot in this list alone (17 overall I think). I could always recommend more, Rina writers are just so talented. So here's a list of some of my favorites <3

The Story of Us by peculiarblue

‘gina learns that sometimes things have to fall apart so that they can fall back together, right where they were always meant to be’ This is a complete 2 part chapter fic

Thee Rina bible. It’s everything we could ever want and need. Everything we want s2 to be and more. It’s an absolute masterpiece in every way. So many parts where I nearly died, the angst in the fight scene, the tension before they made up (the dress scene that reminded me so much of that amylaurie scene I lost my mind a little more), them being absolutely gone for each other!!! it’s just perfect in every way.

When Your With Me and Were Alone by orphan account

‘Ricky Bowen remembers everything.’ This is a one-shot three-part completed series.

My favorite series, it’s gotta be. It’s the first of its kind for rina fics. Lore does an incredible job of realistically writing rina’s characterization and reactions to Gina moving and what would happen after. A wonderfully talented writer, utilizing the power of her words while minimalist carries an effect. 

You Know Me Better by This_is_Riri

‘Gina was moving. This would be her sixth move in seven years. She was used to it by now...only this time, it felt different. Post episode 7.’ This is an incomplete multichapter fic.

This one really gets you at your gut. Heart-wrenching for both characters but mainly gina. The vents that happen to both characters, it just makes sense that so much more than their vunerabilities bonds them together. Perfect execution of the mutual understanding trope. 

and I know I’ve kissed you before by ptrprkrs

‘but I didn’t do it right / can i try again, try again, try again? or: 5 times ricky kisses gina + 1 time she kisses back’ This is a complete one-shot.

I love a good five times plus one fic. This one is heartwarming, cheeky and cute. It gives a healthy balance of the inevitable anguish that comes with pining (and not just for the character but for frustrated readers that just wanna put these kids together already) but also the sweet innocence and fluff from first love (or first love adjacent). 

what love might have done by rradioh

‘Ricky follows his gut. Everything changes. Some things stay the same.’ This is a completed one shot.

A good look into what could've been for season one. Reflecting moments that felt like they could’ve easily been placed in the show and showed the subtly of the growth of rinas relationship. It wasn’t something that was thrown into our faces but came gradually and this fic facilitates that growth with key moments that add to that. A Great one-shot.

And the 7th Thing I Hate The Most That You Do (You Make Me Love You) by iknowpIaces

‘It doesn’t help that he really does look good in his costume. God, she hates him. She hates him. She hates him. Then, he has the nerve to smile at her. And Gina hates how that smile alone sends her over the moon.’ This is a completed one shot.

SOOOO GOOD. No one understands, I love the trope where one person has a crush on the other and it's unrequited (or it seems that way) but eventually it's apparent that they're also just as gone for that person as soon as they start moving on, or feeling fine with having their feelings not reciprocated. Then they're both just mutual pining messes, ugh I love it. This fic handles the trope with care and rina just comes together organically. 

lesson in love by finelineholland

“Give me 4 weeks. I’ll help you out. Like… a crash course, if you will. 'How to be the perfect boyfriend for Nini Salazar-Roberts': A class taught by yours truly.” This is an incomplete multichapter fic.

A rom-com in the form of a fic. It’s so true to Ricky and Gina as characters and their dynamic. The writing is really good and gives so much in terms of plot. I really hope it updates soon because I love a good makeover/transformation fic, it gives she’s all that and geek charming in the best ways.  

take me to the feeling by peculiarblue

‘gina meets a stranger at a party she doesn't want to be at, and let's herself fall in love for the night, wherever it takes them’ This is a completed one shot.

Katie does it again. Another classic that makes us fall for rina while they fall for each other under the stars. You can’t help but feel something for them right off the bat because theirs something about the cheekiness of the dynamic and so real. You can’t help but fall for them, a must read.

The Last Time by mytearsricochet

‘this is the one where gina meets ricky and nothing is against them. except for a few misunderstandings, forgotten birthdays, wrong people, and missed opportunities. because as much as love doesn’t care about time, this is the one where time cares about love. and with time, everything falls into place.’ This is a completed one shot.

SO UNBELIAVBLEY UNDERRATED. This fic is too excellent, it's everything rinas could want. it’s an incredibly well done long slowburn that makes you strap in for the ride. With all those teasing moments where they're mutually pining and they're just on the precipice of finding out their feelings for one another only to hold back and stay friends (until the end of course). The end makes you work for it, but so worth it when you get to it. 

10 Days in “Love” by kindredspiritsxo 

‘It was almost the end of high school and nobody had it figured out. Especially Ricky Bowen. His parents had recently divorced, he had no idea what he's doing for college, his longtime girlfriend dumped him the month before and now he's been replaced by one of the most popular guys in school.

To make matters worse, he leaves for Europe in two days for his senior trip. The same senior trip that said ex-girlfriend and her new boyfriend were going on. So, Ricky did what any desperate teenage boy would do to try and get his girlfriend back: he devised a plan. A plan that included the help of Gina Porter and playing pretend for 10 days.’ This is an incomplete multichapter fic.

I love a good traveling fic. Sometimes all it takes to get a character to wake up about things going on in their lives or feelings for character b is a good change of scenery. This fic does a great job of utilizing the enviornment to facilitate rinas love story through one of my favorite tropes, the fake dating trope. There's some angst along the way because nothing can ever come easy but it's not without its reward. It gives me major spiderman far from home vibes just solely because of petermjs adorableness and how that energy kinda translates to rina in this fic more so in the beginning before they have this repertoire. 

on the line by peculiarblue

‘with everything in her life finally at a stand still for once the last thing gina needs is one curly haired skater to come in and give her a reason to change again

(or, gina lets ricky back into her life the only way she knows how, at a distance, through daily voicemails, until her heart remembers why she can't love him anymore.)’ This is a completed one shot.

It hurts in the best way possible! that is the best way to describe this fic. Were taken on a journey where I personally wanted rina to just talk to each other in person but the magic was all in the voicemails and the power of their connection. There was a satisfying ending, I couldn't ask for more. If you haven’t read literally everything written by Katie go read it, it won't disappoint.

but everywhere just brings me back to you by ptrprkrs

‘or, ricky is just a little in love with the voice of the girl at the starbucks drive-thru’ This is a completed one shot.

An amazing fic that hits every spot effortlessly, even the ones you didn’t know you had. Like Ricky being a lovesick puppy going to a drive-thru just to hear Gina’s voice for coffee, he doesn’t drink or like. All the while they’d been connected all along. I’m a sucker for any kind of soulmate implications or stories where people are unknowingly connected like that so this ones a real favorite for me. It’s sweet, lighthearted and funny and a great read.

About Love by goldenthread

‘a series of Interconnected one shots and canonical aus for Ricky and Gina <3.’ This is an incomplete multichapter fic.

Here's where I enter some shameless self-promo...I wrote this recently. It’s just some loosely connected one-shots I have of rina based on canon. I write about an alternate first meeting, what would've happened if Gina had to understudy Nini in a rehearsal and (for a future chapter) a babysitting au (for what happened when Gina actually told Ricky the truth, she was babysitting her neighbor's kid when she talked to him at the skatepark). Check it out if it sounds like your thing!

in your eyes by finelineholland

‘you always try to hide the pain, you always know just what to say. i always look the other way. i'm blind, i'm blind. in you eyes, you lie, but i don't let it define you.’ This is an incomplete multichapter fic.

There is something about Rina being written about from an outside perspective that is just so excellent. The story starting with Nini noting the obvious chemistry and their connection and being threatened by it, I don’t know it's just so pleasing to me. Another fic like that one of my favorites (one that I’m pretty sure I’ve suggested in my other rec list), pretend i don’t see it in your eyes by spobylol. Another absolutely excellent read that does not miss once. This story in contrast also writes from rina’s perspective as well which I also thought was well done. 

right from the start I knew by anonymous

‘“Uh.” Ricky really didn’t think this far ahead. To be fair, it’s not like he’s ever thought ahead about anything ever in his life, so this is really to be expected. “We - forget about it? Maybe. Or like - I don’t know. I think I have to figure out how to be like - a person right now. By myself.”

“Same.” Gina says absently. “I’ve spent what feels like my whole life thinking about what other people think of me. It’d be nice to - to be able to try looking beyond that for a change.”

Post-Season 1. Ricky and Nini break up, but that doesn't mean things work out right away.’ This is a completed one shot.

The most iconic love confession I’ve read in a rina fic to date. it’s just so good, a certified rush every single time. The mutual pining hits spectacularly especially when you see just how soon it starts to hit Ricky that he’d made a mistake getting with Nini and him paying for that mistake. The writing only amplifies it. Also Ricky telling Gina he’s obsessed with her? yeah, I automatically added this fic to my list of faves.

If they only knew by goldenthread

‘Ricky Bowen never really bought into the whole soulmate thing (except he did) but life got in the way and now he's sort of pretending to date new (totally not intimidating) girl Gina Porter to win back the one and only Nini Salazar Roberts. Not a single thing could go wrong.

or

The one where Ricky and Gina aren't so good at the whole soulmate thing and they fake date.’ This is an incomplete multichapter fic.

More shameless self promo, sorry y’all but I’m super proud of this one. It’s a soulmate and fake dating au, combining two of my fave tropes into one to make this (surprisingly) long fic. It’s a whirlwind of emotions and a lot of moving parts in the story. I plan on updating within two months then after that there's three more chapters until its finished :) hope y’all enjoy it if you decide to give it a read!

you are the best thing & the worst thing (that’s happened to me this whole year) by tophsgf

‘Gina's roommate Nini is unbearable. What's more unbearable, however? Her very charismatic and totally off-limits sort-of boyfriend.’ This is a completed one shot. 

An amazing fic, I need more people to know about it! I really like fics where the development between Ricky and Gina is gradual, which seems to be the case for a lot of fics but for this one in particular I like its execution. Obviously, at first, he’s with Nini so it’s like the dynamic is at a point of comparison from the start but we quickly learn that thanks to good ole mutual understanding and overall compatibility Ricky and Gina are just right for each other. A fun read that hits all the bases.

[doodleimprovement]

CSAU :: Moonie Jericho and the Mysterious Case of the Moon-Jumper Mask - Alternate Ending

Or: “The extremely self indulgent 7 page fic were Nell gets to be more helpful and has some actual characterization” 

Yeahhhh this isn’t canon to the fic, but I wanted to write it because I can, at LAST give ya’ll Nell’s backstory for how they came to live in Subcon in the CSAU

Per usual, the “Coffee Shop AU” belongs to the ever wonderful @doodledrawsthings

Also, note: Both MJ and Nell use “they/them” pronouns, with MJ being “He/They” and Nell being “She/They” To keep things from getting too confusing, Nell will be “They” and MJ will be “He” 

Enjoy! 

--

Nell was honestly a bit surprised when MJ came to their home the morning after Halloween, sheepishly stating that the mask seemed ... stuck.

“Really?”

He nodded.

“Huh.. Come on in then. I’ll get some tea going and see about helping you out, hm?”

He walked into their house, taking a moment to actually look about the place- as he didn’t get much of a chance before- and took a seat in their small living room.

The ambiance of the outside followed inside, with the walls painted chestnut brown with warm yet bright pops of color on the windowsill and the various picture frames full of people he didn’t know. The curtain over the wide window was patterned with little pumpkins, which he found cute, and hanging from a few ceiling hooks were what Clover would call “Low-maintenance” plants. The dark colors match well with the room, making it feel a bit comfier than it otherwise might.

The couch he sat on was across from an armchair, and both were colored a warm orange, with an espresso-colored coffee table. On said table were some envelopes and a copy of “Better Homes and Gardens”

Huh, he didn’t peg them as a reader of those types of magazines. Then again, Clover was the one that knew Nell, not him.

They came back with two mugs - one was purple with the “Snatcher” face on it, and the other had a little grumpy ghost on it, with “I’m spooky before my coffee” written above the drawing.

They handed him the Snatcher mug

“Can I ask where you get all of this Snatcher merch?”

“My best friend is an Etsy fiend. Despite him living all the way in Nyakoto, he ships me Snatcher merch whenever he finds something fun. He’s a real character” they chuckled.

“Huh” MJ acknowledged as Nell walked around the coffee table and sat next to him

“Do you feel the mask?”

He nodded, his hand up at the edge, right where he felt it “When I pull, it just… doesn’t move”

“Hm..” they sipped. “When you try to take it off, how does it feel?”

“Like… it’s like a thousand little… things? Pulling at my face, I think?” MJ pulled up their mug and sipped the tea.

“Like… string? Thread?”

MJ nodded. “I think that's the right word, thread”

Nell puts down the mug as MJ takes another sip. “Let me see” they scooted closer to him, and he put his mug down and turned his head.

Their hands seemed to glow green as they raised it “There we go…” They muttered, hand immediately finding the mask’s edge, and seeing what he was talking about “... Huh, the threads… well, that's the right word. They’re… criss-crossed…”

Before he could ask if they could remove them, he felt a slight burning at the edge of his face and jumped

“Ah!”

“Sorry, sorry, but, that did work… Though, it means you might be here a while” they admit “I’ll need you to stay still, okay?”

“Oh.. okay”

It was... Not Okay.

A few minutes into Nell’s attempt at getting the mask off, they let out a huff.

“You can’t keep squirming”

“I- I’m sorry” He muttered “It's just, you know, hard to stay still”

“I understand that, but I don’t want to mess this up. I’d like to see your actual eyes” They muttered.

“I know, it just.. Weird feeling” He tried to explain.

“Moon” They pressed, but sighed “... You seem still enough when I’m talking to you, need a distraction?”

“I mean, I guess…?”

Nell sighed “Hm… How about I tell you how I came to live in Subcon? That’s a long-ass story”

“Oh uh, if you’re okay with sharing!” MJ tried to be polite. He knew that even Clover wasn’t completely sure why Nell came to live in the town, she just knew that “something happened” back at the coast where they were from.

“Nah. It’s been 5 years. That’s more than long enough” The nurse stayed focused on the magic threads, their magic seeming to thrum in his ears- sounding almost like the hum of a fan in the dead heat of summer..

There was a pause, before they took in a breath.

“When I was 19, I took a job in Nyakoto, and left my hometown as fast as the train could take me. I had a scholarship to a little nursing school there, and before my 21st birthday, I’d gotten a nice, decent paying job as an ER nurse for a hospital in the East Side” They started “The hospitals were all interconnected, so I ended up meeting different doctors and nurses while I worked, and sometimes was called to assist in other hospitals.

“I was.. 25, when I met him” They recalled, something in their voice seeming heavy. “We’ll call him Chris

“He was in residency at a hospital down in the Wesservale neighborhood. We met at a medical appreciation gala… He had something about him I couldn't place. . . A charisma, almost. A kindness. He seemed so eager for the future, so excited for what the next day might bring him. I’d never been like that. His optimism drew me in.

“We started dating the year after. Like with most relationships, everything seemed great. He was funny, kind, thoughtful, all of that stuff. He even went with me to pride stuff, which was pretty cool at the time.”

“Pride?” MJ chimed in. Nell couldn’t hide a chuckle.

“Yes. You’ve heard of the Nyakoto Annual Pride Bonanza, haven’t you? One of the biggest in the country”

“I have, yes”

“Good. Back to the story” Nell redirected “When I was 27, about a year and a half into the relationship, I realized, quite unhappily, that we weren’t actually very different, and didn’t really get along as well as we thought.. It's not that we argued, but.. We didn’t really… talk. I never spoke to him about my problems, I didn’t feel like I could, and that really made me realize that we weren’t actually all that comfortable around each other. So, when he came over to my place that night for dinner, I spoke to him, and tried to tell him that we weren’t compatible, and that I thought perhaps we’d be better off as friends.

“He convinced me that we just needed work, going on and on about all these plans he had for us. Trips, dates, things to look forward to, always looking toward the future, Chris did”

Nell paused again

“.. I really should have noticed how little he cared about happiness in the present.” They commented “Not a traditional red flag, but it was a warning nonetheless”

“Well, I mean, that’s not so bad”

“In a way, no” Nell replied “But when you think about the future so much, you forget the present, you forget to live, and your past just.. Ends up a horrible haze. Even the happy stuff is hard to recall”

MJ hadn’t thought of it like that

“But hindsight is 2020, and in the moment, I believed him. I wanted to believe those bright dreams of the future, and I let go of the fact that I did not even like to talk to him very much.

“... I tried to break up with him 4 more times in the 8 years we were together.”

Okay, MJ hadn’t been expecting that much time passing.

“By the time I was 34, we were living together, but barely seeing each other. From the outside it must have seemed perfect to everyone else. I think only Daph knew about my.. Issues, with Chris. I still never talked to him about anything that wasn’t the future, or how the day was, or.. Just, absolute nonsense.

“One night, after one more attempt to break up, I’d gone to bed defeated, and woke up at 3 in the morning while he was on the night shift in Wesservale.. I came to this… realization

“If I didn’t leave right then and there, I’d marry him…. and I’d …. I’d be stuck. He’d have me, and I’d be stuck for the rest of my life..

“So I grabbed everything I had in the apartment, sent a resignation email to the East side hospital I still worked at, left him a note telling him I was leaving, took my car and just… started driving”

“.. Did he call you?”

“I blocked his number.” They answered curtly. “Drove for days until I came across Subcon.”

MJ didn’t comment.

“I stayed at the Alpine Motel for a few nights, and when I was at the diner, overheard that there was an open position for the school nurse at the elementary” They continued. “I applied for it, and 3 months later cashed in my savings to put a down payment on this little place” They made a motion with their hand briefly “The rest is history”

“Well… If it's any consolation, I think that's a good reason to get out of the city”

Nell couldn’t hold back a laugh. There was something a little… sad, in it, but the laugh was genuine.

“Yeah, then again, every reason is a good one to get out of the city” They commented, and MJ had only just realized that their hands were now on the other side of his face. Nell worked quickly, it seemed. “Hm.. okay. On the count of three, I'm going to try to take it off, alright?”

“Oh, uh, wow, okay!” He replied eagerly, closing his eyes.

“One…” They slowly started, both hands on either side, their nails right at the edge of the mask.

“Three!”

MJ startled as Nell pulled, and a cold, sharp feeling spread over his body before it abruptly ended. When he opened his eyes. He looked at Nell, who had, in their hands, that damned mask.

His hands went up to his face, and he let out a relieved laugh as he felt his skin, glasses and hair “hah! Hahah! I’m human again! No more magic!” He raised his hands and leaned back on the couch “Sweet relief”

Nell let out a chuckle, putting the mask down gently “Finish your tea, I’m gonna grab you a damp towel. You have… paint? On your face”

His brow was furrowed, but he reached for the still-warm mug anyway as Nell got up and went down a short hallway.

He took the few moments that Nell was done to think over the story he’d been told, the exhaustion in the nurse’s voice as she told it. Was he really the first one to learn? It gave him a weird feeling right in his chest.

When Nell returned, she offered a small, damp towel… that had the “Snatcher” smile on it

“... How many of these do you have?” He almost laughed again, and they just answered with an amused smile and grabbed their own coffee cup.

MJ cleaned his face, seeing a candy-red color coming off on the purple towel. “Hm..”

“What?”

“Well uh, the color looks like the magic strings I was able to summon”

Nell Blinked “... Well uh, bring that up with Tim when he’s back in town. That’s a little out of my wheelhouse”

“Noted”

The two fell into silence, sipping their warm drinks and giving them some time to unwind

“Will you need a ride home?” they asked him, putting their mug down.

He hadn’t actually thought of that.

“Oh, uh, it’s fine”

They raised an eyebrow at him

“You live 20 minutes away and Luka isn’t here to … fly you home, per se” They laid out “I’ve got a car, I’ll drive you home”

He turned a little red to the ears “Oh.. Thank you”

“No problem, Moon” They smiled back at him. “I’m going to change real quick, then we’ll leave”

And with that, they left back into the short hallway, to what Moon assumed was their bedroom.

Nell returned a few minutes later, dressed in a loose blouse and skirt that went down to their ankles, a far cry from the tank top and sweatpants that he’d seen them in before. He supposed that it was more so not wanting to go out in Pajamas than anything else. She picked up the mask, wrapping it in a handkerchief before holding it out to him

“It’s chosen you. You have to keep it”

He just nodded, and gingerly took the troublesome thing into his hands.

The two got in their truck (Nell owned a truck??) and drove into town.

MJ took in a breath as they turned onto a main street, passing The Horizon. “So uh, Nell..”

“Hm?”

“About your uh, the story you told me.. I won’t tell anyone”

“I don’t mind if you do” they answered, eyes on the road

“What, really?”

“Like I said before. Five years feels long enough”

MJ’s brow furrowed “I’m still not going to say anything.. That’s a personal story. It’s not mine to tell”

Nell glanced over at him with an unreadable expression, before moving to turn on the radio. Lo-fi started, and it seemed they were right in the middle of a Billie Eilish song.

“.. Thank you” They ended up responding as the song picked up

”I know supposedly I'm lonely now.

Know I’m supposed to be unhappy without someone.

But aren’t I someone?” 

MJ didn’t say much of anything else once until they got to his apartment building

“Thank you, Nell. For everything”

“Don’t mention it” They gave him a small, but sincere smile “Get some rest, hm? The bags under your eyes are aging you”

MJ just laughed “I will. Don’t be a stranger, Mx. Buonacci”

The nurse gave him a lazy salute with a soft smile, before the window rolled up, and they drove off

Exhaling, he looked down at the covered mask, wrapped in a…. Snatcher-patterned handkerchief.

He couldn’t help but laugh.

[free-pancakes]

A Fire in the Shadows

LeviHan - Avatar the Last Airbender AU fic

Characters: Levi, Hange, Erwin, Mike, Nanaba, Moblit, Kenny, Zeke, Sasha, Jean, Armin, Kuchel, Porco, Pieck

Summary: Levi, the nephew of a fire nation captain, stumbles upon a ragtag group of 5 known as the Scouts, formidably known for foiling the plans of local fire nation control, living in the forests a few miles north of Ba Sing Se.

Chapter 5: Interconnected Chapter 4: The Fire from the Shadows Chapter 3: Bonds  Chapter 2: Trust  Chapter 1: The Scouts

(crossposted to ao3)

CH 5: Interconnected

A 10 year-old Hange sat by the edge of the river running right outside her home, listening to the happy quacks of little turtle ducks swimming by. She smiled as she molded the fire in her palm into a small ball of flame, tossing and kicking it back and forth to herself. Erwin walked quietly towards the river, and stared at Hange from afar. He couldn’t help but watch, mesmerized at the finesse of her movements—she was a natural, more adept than even the adult firebenders he knew, at just 10 years old. She was just a kid, but she was skilled beyond her years. He was so proud of her, but admittedly, a little jealous. He looked down at his hands, sad that he wasn’t gifted with the ability to bend an element. He lowered them and shook his head—despite this, the pride he had for his best friend far outweighed any sadness he felt being a non-bender. He’d always stand by her side.

“Hange, I got the stuff you asked for.” He pulled off his backpack and shook its contents onto the grass—a metal funnel, metal clamps, and wax adhesives. Hange’s eyes glowed with fiery excitement as she squealed with joy. “These are perfect!” She gathered the supplies and ran towards the house. “Come on Erwin, race you back to my room!” She sprinted ahead, and Erwin laughed as he ran to catch up with her.

Hange ran into her home, tracking dirt all over the wooden floorboards. “Hange dear, come on, I just mopped the floor!”

She disappeared into her room and yelled, “Sorry, Mom! I got a super-top-secret-urgent project to work on!”

Before she could ask Hange to come back and clean up her mess, she turned around to find Erwin already sweeping up the dirt.

“Oh Erwin, you’re so sweet, you don’t need to do that!” She gently took the broom out of his hand and ruffled his hair. “Go join Hange, don’t worry about it,” she said softly.

“Thanks for having me, Mrs. Zoe,” he politely nodded his head and walked into Hange’s room, closing the door gently behind him. He looked down to find Hange busy producing a tiny fire at the tip of her index finger, welding the metal to the rest of her contraption. Erwin knew better than to talk to her while she was engrossed in conjuring up her newest invention, so he put his backpack down on the floor and sat neatly across from her. He stared up at the wall, at the same picture frames he always looked at whenever he waited for Hange to finish her latest project. The picture was that of a man who resembled Hange’s father, his arm around a young Avatar Roku and a few other people, all of them smiling together.

According to Hange, the bespectacled man in the painting was her great grandfather, a good friend of Roku. Beneath this was a picture of Erwin’s grandparents arm-in-arm with Hange’s grandparents and all of their friends. The picture below that was one from a few years before either Hange or he was born, showing his and Hange’s parents laughing together, and in the center, a beautiful woman with long, black hair and the most gentle eyes. Generations… lifetimes of the most powerful firebenders, yet the most kind people were displayed there before him, and it was almost crazy to think that he and Hange, along with their new friends, Mike and Nanaba, were probably next in line to join that wall—a wall displaying both genuine friendship and deep loyalty to the peaceful and harmonious land the fire nation once was. Erwin smiled as he remembered his father’s words to him one night not too long ago—“Friendships really do transcend lifetimes.”

“Success!” Hange held the contraption in her hand, a mess of metal tubes swirling into a metal funnel at the end. Before he could ask what it was, Hange was dragging him by the hand and climbing out the one window in her room. “Hurry up ya slowpoke! Before my mom or Moblit hears us!”

They ran towards the small barn marking the halfway point between their houses. Hange walked along the edges of the barn to a spot in the dirt marked with a small scarf of hers. “Here! Help me dig, Erwin!” They used their hands to scoop piles of dirt out, deep enough to fit the end of the funnel under and inside the barn.

“Ok! Can you stay right here and listen to me through the pipe? Tell me how clear the sound is.” Hange ran around the corner and into the barn, and began to speak and whisper, alternating between the two. Erwin’s eyes widened in shock at the clarity—even Hange’s whispers were audible through the pipe. “How did she even manage to do this?” he thought to himself. Now they could listen clearly to their parents’ secret meetings, and he was quite excited with their new tool.

“From the look on your face, I take it that the acoustics are perfect, no?” Hange smiled deviously, and Erwin returned it. The two friends happily bumped fists. “Now we can hear about their next mission without taking turns pressing our ears against the wall!”

Ever since she and Erwin stumbled upon a meeting about a year ago, their minds became hyper-fixated on discovering their parents' work and uncovering the secrets behind it all. Since they were probably the two most dangerously curious kids of all the fire nation, it was only natural that they’d figure it all out eventually. They had spent the past year trying to listen to the group meetings in the barn, and learned all about their missions. Ridden with curiosity, the two eventually found years of hidden documents containing information on their families, kept in boxes under faulty floorboards of their homes.

When Avatar Roku mysteriously died nearly 100 years ago, his group of friends awaited their friend’s reincarnation as a child from one of the air temples. But after the fire nation attacks on the airbender monks, they feared the worst. The world began to tip out of balance, and when no avatar seemed to appear in the earth kingdom, they wondered whether the avatar was gone for good. But among Roku’s friends, hope was not lost—they passed down their stories from generation to generation, and as the fire nation grew in power, the Zoe family was the face of those defending from the inside, attempting to do what they could to restore balance. They became the crux of movement within the shadows of the fire nation, thwarting plans of conquering villages and cities of the world, keeping as many citizens and innocent people safe from fire nation soldiers’ violence. Their numbers have dwindled over the years from fighting for their cause, and most of them eventually moved into the earth kingdom colonies to help out the villages more closely, though a few stayed behind in the fire nation to continue retrieving intel from the inside and kept correspondence with any information gleaned.

Hange was quite keen on listening for more every week, confident in her desire to follow in her family’s footsteps. As much as Erwin shared Hange’s excitement, part of him was deeply concerned about Hange’s safety. Out of the families that moved out into the earth kingdom colonies, she was the only firebender in their generation, and he was afraid that she’d have to take on too much responsibility and carry the brunt of the work in order to live up to their families’ names. But they were only kids, right? He waved away his own worries—it’s not like they’d have to join in on this right away. Their parents didn’t even know that we found out about all of this yet.

-------- When the sun just began to set, the two friends snuck their way back to the barn under the calm, orange glow of the sky. They crouched down at the spot where they lodged Hange’s invention through the ground and listened in—but to their disappointment, the adults were simply chatting and enjoying each other’s company. “Booooring,” Hange sighed. “Maybe we should just call it a night, huh Erwin?” As Erwin readied himself to walk Hange home, he overheard the quiet closing of a door and a new voice sound through the pipe. They locked eyes and quickly threw themselves down to press their ears close and listen.

“Kuchel!” Hange’s mother exclaimed, and they heard the soft sound of sniffles and happy cries of the reunion.

“KUCHEL??” Hange exclaimed loudly.

“Who’s Kuchel?”

“My mom’s friend! Her best friend!” Hange clasped her hands together and jumped around in excitement. “Oh I’ve always wanted to meet her, she sounds so nice and—“

“Well, well, well, what do we have here?” Hange and Erwin spun around to see Hange’s dad staring at the two of them and eyeing their little listening device. “Eavesdropping now, are we? You might have made something where you can hear us loud and clear, but did you consider the possibility that we could hear YOU loud and clear from the other side?” Erwin and Hange nervously laughed at his words—they really did forget to consider that. He bent down to look at Hange’s creation and his facade of playing “bad cop” parent melted away quite quickly, and he turned to his daughter and chuckled. “So how did you make it?” As the two Zoe’s babbled on about the intricacies of Hange’s ideas, Erwin continued to listen into the barn.

“Oh yes, Kenny’s alright, as annoying as ever, telling me we should give up on all this and that my son and I should just move out here with all of you. But how else would we get more intel without me on the inside?”

“But you can move in with us! We can adjust. Our plans can change! Kenny’s right, it’s probably safer for you to stay here. On top of that, I’m sure your son would love to meet Erwin and Hange,” Hange’s mother answered.

“I’m sure he would. He’s very quiet and doesn’t really have any friends. But I have no doubt they’ll all meet someday.” She smiled at the thought of Levi making new friends, but her smile slowly transitioned into a concerned frown. “It might have to wait a year or two, though. I don’t know if I trust Zeke anymore...”

“Well what do you mean by that? Hasn’t Zeke proved himself to us?” Erwin’s father asked.

“I’ve seen him spend some more time with Ozai recently. I can’t put a finger on it... but I think something in him has changed. I think we may be able to trust him for now, but we’ll have to see.”

The doors of the barn slammed open, revealing Hange’s father holding Hange in one arm and Erwin in the other. “I think we found our culprits!”

Mike and Nanaba’s parents burst into laughter, while Hange’s mother and Erwin’s father darted looks of deep disapproval at their children.

Hange’s dad playfully threw the two down into the pile of hay that the horses were working on, who seemed to neigh at them in disapproval. Hange and Erwin lost themselves in a fit of giggles that simply lightened up the room from the bleak conversation about Zeke. The rest of them began to catch up again and reminisce about the “good old days” while Erwin and Hange pet and fed the horses.

A few hours later, Kuchel made her way over to them, and the two suddenly felt shy, falling quiet.

Erwin’s eyes widened in recognition as she sat close to them. “You’re the beautiful lady in the picture,” Erwin accidentally whispered loud enough for Kuchel to hear.

Kuchel laughed, “You’re Erwin, right? You’re the spitting image of your father, and from what I hear, the only person smart and strong enough to keep this one under control right?” she said as she looked over to Hange.

“What, me?” Hange questioned. “Yes, you! Come here, dear,” she waved Hange towards her and gently pulled her glasses off, and wiped them clean with her sleeve, and carefully pushed them back onto Hange’s face. “And you’re the infamous, reckless Hange Zoe, correct?” She laughed, and Hange was simply mesmerized by her kind soul and the loving twinkle in her eyes.

After warming up to each other, Hange soon begged for stories from Kuchel about how all their parents became friends and both she and Erwin eagerly listened. The three of them talked for what felt like hours, until Erwin and Hange could barely keep their eyes open, their sheer curiosity and interest in Kuchel the only thing keeping them awake enough to listen.

“So that’s the sign of you all being undercover firebenders right?” Hange asked sleepily as she pointed to the little charm peeking out from pocket of her skirt. Kuchel was startled by her question, and sighed in defeat. “Well, neither of you should know anything about this until you’re old enough, but it was silly of me to think that you two wouldn’t figure that out by now being the nosy little kids you are,” she said with a small laugh. She pulled out the charm to show them. “When the time is right, we’ll all pass them down to you. It might not be as significant now—it was once used to prove that you were one to be trusted, but now that there’s not too many of us left...” Erwin noticed the hint of sadness that showed in her eyes.

“Well, it‘s still important, something to remember who you are and where you came from. Whenever you look at it, I hope it brings you peace and reminds you that it’s our responsibility to bring back stability and light to our nation, no matter how dark it may become. But who knows, it still might be important in recognizing who is a friend or foe someday. Whoever holds one is someone you can trust—I can promise you both that.”

Hange asked, “Kuchel, will we ever get to meet your son?”

“I have no doubt you will,” she said with a smile. “Hopefully soon. I think you both would be really good influences on him.” With a yawn, Hange asked one more question.

“What’s his name?”

But before they could hear Kuchel’s answer, both of them were fast asleep. Kuchel smiled lovingly at the two. She gently pulled off Hange’s glasses, pocketed them before picking her up. She chuckled at the sound of her snores as Hange’s face leaned against her chest— “Just like her mother,” she thought and suppressed full-on laughter. She then whispered quietly into Hange ear, hoping it would somehow register in her heart, despite her being asleep. “It was a pleasure to meet you, Hange. And.... I can’t wait for you meet Levi someday. Don’t let his little scowl fool you—he has a good heart.” Kuchel beckoned Hange’s mother over to pick up Erwin. “Come on, let’s go put these two to bed.”

-------- Levi could not believe Erwin’s story. But... there was no denying the description of his own mother.

He remembered the day before his mother died, and her words that morning echoed in his mind, “Levi, did you know that some friendships are strong enough to transcend lifetimes?” He wondered if that applied here—an explanation as to why his bond with Hange ran so deep, and why he felt like he’d known Erwin, Moblit, Mike, and Nanaba for much longer than he actually did.

They had been interconnected this whole time. As much as it frustrated him that knowing this would have made their meeting 3 years ago much easier, he felt a wave of happiness fall over him, and he was absolutely overwhelmed from head to toe.

“So, you’re Kuchel’s son.” Erwin remembered her kind eyes and gentle voice, and began to laugh.

“Oi, what the hell are you laughing on about?”

Erwin continued to laugh and started to wipe tears from his eyes. “I was just thinking about how you’re just...well let’s just say I never thought Kuchel’s son would turn out to be such a small, angry man.” He laughed, along with Nanaba and Mike. Levi grumbled but couldn’t help but let out a tiny smile.

After their laughter died down, Levi let the information sink in a little along with the situation at hand. “I didn’t know you met her...” he sighed. It seems there was a lot he didn’t know, and he wished he could turn back time and ask his mother everything.

Mike asked, “What did happen to your mom anyway? I know you said she was gone but...”

“She died after she saved a child from a house fire. My uncle and I were gone training for a weekend. I was only 12 at the time,” Levi said as he stared down at the ground.

“Since you and Hange are the same age... that must mean she died around the same Zeke betrayed everyone and had fire nation soldiers kill our parents,” Nanaba said quietly.

Each of them held their parents’ charms tightly in their hands. All was silent except for the rustling of leaves in the gentle breeze and the crackle of logs from their campfire. Dusk quickly fell upon them, the glow of the moon peeking through the light cloud cover.

Erwin’s eyes softened as he looked at Levi. “Well, we got some work to do, don’t we? Hange and Moblit are in trouble—I can only imagine what Zeke wants to do with them.”

Levi looked up at Erwin, noticing a minuscule flicker of worry in his eyes. “My bet... is using an Agni Kai versus Hange as public display to destroy anymore hopes of internal rebellion.”

The other three furrowed their eyebrows at this, gritting their teeth in anger.

“And... killing the last firebending Zoe would be the ultimate symbol of crushing any hope that may be left.”

Levi stood up and looked out into the horizon, in the direction Zeke and Kenny escaped the night before. He had a good idea of where they might be, but the exact coordinates of that base was kept hidden from everyone except for high ranking officials. However, knowing Hange, he had utmost confidence that she marked a way for them to find her. They'd just have to figure that out—and soon.

Levi balled his hands into tight fists and fierce determination flickered in his eyes.

“Well, we’re not gonna let her face Zeke alone, are we?” he whispered, not taking his eyes off the horizon.

--------

As Hange’s screams grew silent, Armin breathed a sad sigh of relief—either they stopped torturing her or she finally just passed out from the pain. Either way, she at least had some respite. He looked at the thick wooden bars of their cell, cross hatched like a solid net, trapping them inside. He could only assume that at least one guard was standing watch outside the metal door about 8 feet away from their cell—the only exit point in the room. How in the world were they supposed to get out of this mess? And more importantly, why were they targeting Hange? Where were the rest of the Scouts, anyway?

He turned back towards Moblit, “Hey so... what happened? How did you get captured?”

Moblit used his sleeves to wipe at his tears, revealing his swollen eyes, filled with a terrifying swirl of anger and hopelessness. “They ambushed us, Zeke and Kenny. They set everything on fire and we didn’t stand a chance—and they told us...” He looked down, tangling his fingers in his hair anxiously, like he was trying to pry the memories out from his mind.

“Told you what?”

“That Levi led them to us, and...that he was a firebender and... that he’s Kenny’s nephew.”

Sasha and Armin’s jaws dropped at the news, and Jean looked away, as he knew Levi’s secret. He wrestled with the possibility that he might have made a mistake in trusting him. “No... there’s no way I made the wrong call,” he thought.

“I’m not sure if I believe it, though. Hange was very adamant that we should trust Levi.” Happy memories of his relationship with Levi came rushing relentlessly into his head. “No, I don’t think we should stop trusting Levi.” He paused. “After that, the next thing I knew, I woke up restrained on the komodo rhino, and then saw all of you.”

“Moblit, why did they only take you, and no one else?” Sasha asked.

“Well Hange and Levi were in Ba Sing Se that night. And I think they were just using me as bait.”

“But why not any of the others, why just you?” Armin asked. “It doesn’t make any sense. Couldn’t they have just taken Erwin since he leads the Scouts?”

Moblit sighed. “I guess I better just fess up and explain everything, right? All of this would be easier if we were just on the same page.”

He fished a small, metal keychain from his pocket, a fire nation emblem etched into it, matching the one stitched into the red tapestry behind him. He held it up for them to see.

--------

A dull pain ached against the left side of Hange’s face, the skin around her eye throbbing alongside her steady heartbeat. She felt a warm hand pressing a dressing over her left eye, and saw strands of black hair hanging over her. She blinked her right eye, confused as to why she wasn’t still in the barn back home, laying in the hay next to Erwin and Kuchel.

“K-Kuchel?” Hange croaked.

She was answered with a soft whisper, “No, I’m sorry, I’m not Kuchel. My name is Pieck.”

“Oh…” Hange sighed, wishing she could return to dreamland, back to her old, yet comforting memories.

A harsh, gruff voice sounded from the dark corner of the room, “Kuchel’s been long gone, dearie.” From the shadows, Kenny stepped out into the light next to Pieck. “My dumb sister died saving some stupid kid a long time ago.” He peered down at Hange and scoffed. “Didn’t think she’d go that way, to be honest. I thought she’d at least have gone doing the pathetic work your parents and her other friends got into.”

“…Sister?”

“Yeah, my dumb old sister. What, the genius Hange Zoe hadn’t figure it out yet?”

“Sister… then… you’re Levi’s uncle??”

He let out a chilling laugh and began clapping—pathetic applause at her realization. Kenny stepped closer and bent down, staring right into Hange’s face. “Zeke told Porco to do much worse than what he ended up doing to you. You’re lucky I happened to walk in and stop him—what kind of self-respecting uncle would let his wonderful nephew’s girlfriend suffer right in front of him?”

Hange felt her brain short-circuit at his comment. “Oh I know how my nephew works, I saw how he looked at you after your cute little group took down that fire nation camp in the forest. All of you trying to be like your parents—their work was pathetic and so are you.”

Hange tried to make sense of everything and it was difficult to concentrate against the throbbing pain in her eye, but she quickly focused on the situation at hand—no need to show him weakness at anything he decided to say to her. She wasn't sure if she could trust him, though his tone seemed genuine underneath the rough exterior. She laughed to herself--she knew how to read and communicate with Ackermans.

“Their work wasn’t stupid, you pathetic old man,” Hange retorted.

Kenny laughed. “I told my sister not to get into that business. World’s gone to shit anyway, why not just live for yourself at this point?”

Hange began seething at this response. The only reason why she didn’t burst out flames at Kenny was because she was completely disoriented to her surroundings. Sadly, she figured she’d kiss her left-sided vision goodbye. Plus, she didn’t want to injure the girl next to her, as she was clearly very kind, tending to enemy’s wounds. “Maybe if you actually joined your sister back then, you could have helped them!”

“Well maybe if they all just gave that up, none of them wouldn’t have died and left you all as orphans. Have you ever thought of that?”

She stared back at him and spat as she spoke, “Well if you’re arrogant ass is ‘living for himself’ then why the hell do you care about that, and why would you decide to lay your loyalty to Zeke?” Kenny stepped away to make sure no one was within hearing range in the corridor. He walked quickly back towards Hange and leaned down close to her face.

“Listen here, little girl. My loyalty is to no one but myself. Zeke is simply offering the best deal I’ve gotten over last few years—we’re protected among his crew, plus the money’s good. And don’t get all disrespectful now, you’re lucky I didn’t let Porco take out that other eye of yours!”

“Or maybe you did it to keep Levi safe too, you DO care about him don’t you?” Hange teased.

Kenny scowled and grumbled at her comment—Hange stifled laughter as she now knew where Levi got it from.

“You’re delusional, Zoe. You’re just like your parents.” He turned around and slammed the door behind him—the metal reverberating around the walls of the room, the force causing her sensitive eye to throb again. Hange winced in pain.

Pieck held a cold compress to Hange’s face, and she sighed in relief. “Thank you,” Hange breathed out.

“Of course.”

Hange looked curiously at Pieck—“So, why are you helping me, anyway?”

Pieck answered softly, “Hange, I know what Zeke wants to do with you. But I don’t want him to go through with it.”

Hange held back the fear in her heart. She abandoned her curiosity at Zeke's plans with herself for a second--she needed to clear up other information with Pieck first.

“Why?”

“We’ve been friends since we were kids, and… I think he’s truly lost himself. This isn’t him, and it hasn’t been him in a long time. A lot has happened, Hange, and I think you’re just unfortunately stuck in the midst of it." She peeked out the doorway for any listening ears, and sat back down, whispering to Hange.

"There are guards everywhere though, and I can’t just let you out, plus your friends are still trapped somewhere in the building, and I don’t know exactly where. All I know, is that we have a decent amount of time before Zeke returns. In the meantime, rest.”

Hange breathed a sigh of relief—she was ridiculously lucky, she thought. Her mind scrambled to put together all the information she’s gathered and started on mustering up a plan to get everyone out of here safely. But one thing was really bothering her—was being friends with Zeke enough for this girl to help her, a Zoe, a target of the fire nation? There had to be something else--could it be?

“Pieck, can I ask you one more thing?”

She nodded, inviting her to continue.

Hange nodded back, “Is there any more reason why you’re trying to help me?”

Pieck smiled—Hange was just as sharp as the rumors told. She reached into her pocket and held out a luck charm, identical to everyone else’s, the fire nation emblem shining brightly back at Hange. Hange closed her eye and laughed, feeling nothing but hope and happiness. She wondered if Levi felt the same way at this same moment--after all the events of the past few hours, she thought it'd be quite likely that Levi, Erwin, Nanaba, and Mike were likely revealing their charms to each other right around now. It was about time.

[forgottenyogurtgods]

Author stuff: Sorry about the late posting. I explain what’s been going on at the bottom.

Summary: A simple collection of quick fics for somewhat interconnected. 100 prompts, 100 Saturdays.

Master List

Oh! You Pretty Things

Prompt 15 — 92. Innocence

He wasn't sure why, but he was drawn to her. There was just… something there that pulled him in. One look and he was drowning in those eyes of her’s, her voice a siren’s song. And he never wanted to leave.

He had always noticed her, though she had become more prominent as of late. Her bravery shining through when she helped him and Ladybug with the Evillustrator. After spending time with her and playing video games, he saw a whole different side of her. And then with Manon and the dolls... He almost forgot to ask where she lived, which would have completely blown his cover.

So, when he found his way to her rooftop terrace, he of course hesitated to knock on the trapdoor. In fact, he was just about to when she noticed him.

“Chat Noir?” she said, her eyes wider and bigger and bluer than he'd ever seen them before. She spoke slowly and cautiously. “What are you doing here? Is there an akuma in the neighborhood?”

“No, no, Princess,” he said, feeling the nickname slip out before he could control himself. “I was just… catching up on everyone in your class. They've all been akumatized, except for you and one other student.”

“Yeah, and?” She raised herself up onto the terrace, him helping her, though she didn't really need it.

“And I wanted to make sure you didn't have any plans on becoming one?”

“I don't think anyone plans on becoming an akuma, it just sort of happens.”

He scratched the back of his neck. Well, that was a stupid lie. She, no doubt, saw right through him.

“Mind telling me why you're actually here before I call animal control?”

“I was… honestly just passing by, and I thought of you.”

“Hmm, continue.”

“That's… that's really it. I was passing by, and I thought of you.”

“So you decided to creepily stare down into my bedroom for two minutes before I went over to see what you were doing.”

He flushed at that.

“I wasn't, ah, I was just trying to, um, I wasn't sure how to —”

She started giggling. He felt a tug in his abdomen at the sound. It was so sweet and special. He wanted to cherish it forever.

Gah! When did he start feeling this way about his quiet, little classmate?

“It's alright, Chat,” she said. “You're lucky I wasn't changing or something.”

He turned even more red — if that was possible. He didn't want to think about the “changing” part — Marinette in her underwear was not someplace he wanted his mind to, gah! And the “or something”? He didn't want to know what that was. Nope, not at all. Any thoughts beyond her innocently sleeping in that bed.

“I'm just going to, ah, go now,” he said. “You… You seem fine. Perfectly alright. So, I, uh, yeah.”

“But you haven't told me any puns,” she said, pouting a little.

“Pardon?”

“Puns, whenever I see you, you tell me a pun. I mean, they're really annoying and terrible, but they're growing on me.”

He blinked at her. She looked so innocent at the moment. He gave her a slow smile.

“I will be sure to save up a great many for your ears only, Princess.”

“...I'm going to regret saying anything, aren't I?”

“Not at all, Princess. Not at all.”

Also available on

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Author stuff cont'd.: Couple of things happened in my personal life — mostly work related.

The one coworker who works overnights has COVID. The other woman who works overnights doesn't want to work anything other than her assigned nights (she spends the rest of her time out partying and comes in hours late). The backup for overnights picked up her old shift at her original location, so we won't have her to rely on.

On the positive side, I have a new manager to help me out in my department and a few people have been hired to work the front desk. Training is all they really need now, which that's a huge weight off a lot of our shoulders.

Another thing is the fact that I decided to try out how I take my vitamins. The website I get them from recommends that you take it on an empty stomach. Despite the fact that it is in a fat soluble capsule. (It also suggested taking the water soluble vitamins with food — which I don't recommend.) Nope. Not good. Messed with my whole being.

So, I'm back to taking the vitamin that helps with stress with the other fat soluble capsules.

Between that nonsense, I've just been feeling more depressed recently. It probably has to do with the fact that I'm working nights and not getting enough vitamin D, like I used to. I added it to my monthly vitamin package.

Anyway, I'll be updating as normal. I just had to take a little break for my mental health.

[glimmerglanger]

Whumptober 2020 - Day 1

It’s Whumptober time! I’m so excited! Starting things off with the Oof!au (or at least part one of it). This interconnected Vader-captures-Obi-Wan story is gonna take me most of the first two weeks. (A good time will not be had by Obi-Wan. Or Cody. But there IS a happy ending at the end of the road.) I’m going to include warnings for each section as I post. Some of them will be extensive. This one is mostly just hurt and injuries.

The fic as a whole is both past and eventual Codywan. There is one-sided Vaderwan. Again, I’ll definitely have a lot of warnings for some later chapters.

LET’S HANG OUT SOMETIME

Waking Up Restrained | Shackled | Hanging

Pain, Obi-Wan’s oldest and most familiar friend, woke him up. He resisted the urge to groan, swallowing back the sound in his throat. He couldn’t quite… remember what had happened last, before he lost consciousness. There’d been blaster fire, bounty hunters hunting him through the canyons north of his home. He’d deflected a bolt and heard a rumble from above…

He stopped trying to push for the memories. He could dig into the past later, after assessing his current situation. 

He hurt. It was an all-encompassing kind of pain, ringing through his body from his scalp to his feet. The agony was not helped by his current position. He gritted his teeth as the burning pain in his shoulders shot to the forefront of his thoughts.

Someone had… hung him up, it seemed, by the wrists. He couldn’t touch the ground, not even if he pointed his toes, though the effort did set him to swinging, slightly. The movement made his stomach lurch, nausea swimming up through his gut as his head throbbed, sudden and sharp.

Concussion, he decided. He knew well enough what that kind of brain trauma felt like; he’d had plenty of experience getting hit over the head. He couldn’t recall the impact, but, then… short-term memory loss was hardly an uncommon side effect.

He noted the other injuries across his body as best he could, through his swimming thoughts. His hands and arms were nothing but pain, but he couldn’t tell how much of that was from his position. He had no idea how long he’d been swinging, slowly, from his wrists, bonds cutting into his skin, crushing bone together.

His right side hurt and felt wet, from his shoulder down past his hip. His feet were the only thing that didn’t hurt, but only because they’d gone numb. That was, he knew, not a good sign. He kept breathing, as carefully as he could, willing the nausea and dizziness away, trying to focus enough to stretch out his senses.

Obi-Wan could feel things… vaguely. It felt like someone had stuffed cotton into his head. He knew that there were other people around him, but couldn’t sense much beyond that. The Force evaded him, dancing away the more he tried to grab it. He gave up with a gasp, after a moment, swallowing bile.

For a moment he just swung. But that was, honestly, getting him nowhere. He needed more information, and so he cracked his eyes open. It took effort. His left eye felt almost sealed shut, lashes clumped together with filth. His right opened, but everything was blurry through it, distorted. 

Not that there was much to see. He was in some kind of metal room. The walls were all gray. The entire space was poorly lit with a greenish glow. There were some crates around him; in fact, there wasn’t much room. He’d been packed in, like a piece of freight, and something about that made a chill run down his spine.

It was cool, in the little room, but not as cold as a night on Tatooine. Even still, he felt himself shivering, perhaps because someone had taken most of his clothes. They’d left him in his underwear, which felt unpleasant against his skin, soaked with clotting blood.

He thought, disjointedly, that it was fortunate for whoever had captured him that they had a drain under his feet. Based on the reddish smears on the floor, he’d bled quite heavily at some point. He could have made a tremendous mess, a thought that made him wheeze a weak laugh.

The blood drying across his back and chest itched. He wished, dearly, that he could scratch, could do anything but spin, gently, in the cold, cramped room, his thoughts tangled and clumsy.

He tried, eventually, to pull himself up, just a little, to take some of the strain off of his shoulders, but his back exploded into sharp-edged agony during the attempt and he gagged, for a moment unable even to breathe. He listened to a splatter of liquid across the floor. Blood, he realized. He must have reopened a wound.

The sound of the blood hitting metal and the feel of warmth running down his back and thigh filled the entire world for a long time. He lost track of time. Hours could have passed or days or perhaps only seconds when a change in the light of the room drew his attention.

Obi-Wan blinked, lifting his head with a hiss and blinking his stinging eyes. The brighter light came from a door that had opened. A figure stood in the door, tall and hulking, green skinned. Scaled, perhaps. 

Obi-Wan recognized him as one of the bounty hunters from back on Tatooine, which… explained some things, anyway. He couldn’t recall exactly how they’d captured him, but had a fleeting recollection of rocks coming down, of a mountain falling on him….

“Hello,” Obi-Wan rasped, his voice, at least, steady. “I don’t suppose you could let me down?”

The bounty hunter jerked, looking up at him with surprise written across his features. “You can’t be awake,” he growled, a hiss shaping the consonants. He reached for something on his belt. 

Obi-Wan tried to make his mouth quirk into a smile. It hurt. He said, “I think you’ll find--”

“Shut up!” The bounty hunter snarled, delivering a blow to his stomach that left him spinning wildly and finally caused him to lose the battle with the nausea in his gut. He retched, taking some small pleasure in knowing that most of it splattered across his tormentor.

The bounty hunter jerked back, making a disgusted, clicking sound in his throat, snarling, “We are not to listen to a word you say. Lord Vader was very specific.”

And the retort Obi-Wan had planned died on his tongue. He forgot how to breathe, for a moment, ribs pinching in on his lungs and hurt, awful dread crawling up his spine and making a home in his head.

Vader. Anakin. No--

But it was not, really, a surprise. He knew perfectly well Anakin had been hunting for him. He’d just not expected he’d be caught, he’d thought it would take longer for Anakin to look on Tatooine; he’d hoped, vaguely, that no one ever would, but, after he’d hazarded a few communications with Bail, perhaps he should have expected--

“What the kriff are you doing?” another voice demanded, sharp and higher pitched. He heard a scuffle, but couldn’t focus on it, not through the pain and all the memories, images from Mustafar swimming up into his thoughts, choking him.

“Lord Vader said--”

“He said we were to bring in this kriffer alive, idiot.” And, oh, didn’t that just make the cold spreading through Obi-Wan’s veins a dozen degrees chillier. He couldn’t think of a single pleasant reason for Anakin to want him alive. “Knock him out and see to these wounds, before he bleeds out.”

“Yes, ma’am. Time for you to go back to sleep,” the first bounty hunter said, something bitter in his tone, derailing his thoughts. Obi-Wan flinched when the man grabbed him - he’d spun around and could not see his captor - and then there was a cold, sharp bite of metal against his stomach.

Obi-Wan looked down, shocked by the burn that raced beneath his skin, in time to watch the bounty hunter pull a long, thin syringe out of his gut. He opened his mouth, intending to ask what was in the syringe, what they’d done to him, what--

The world got blurry, quickly. And then it got dark, the black closing in from the edges of his vision, all at once. He shook his head, trying to stay awake. He needed to get out, needed to get away, he could not fall into Anakin’s hands, he knew too much about Luke and Leia, about Bail and Yoda, he couldn’t--

The dark swallowed him, utterly and completely.

[silverwhiteraven]

Words Most Important - MariBat GarMari Soulmate AU

[Hello~! This is a 7+k word fic written for a MariBat AU fan in need of some Garfield Logan/Marinette Dupain-Cheng content! (They also Beta read this, so thank you to them!!) Content includes an original Akuma, Puns, GarMari crossover pairing, Adrinette platonic pairing, an original take on First-Words Soulmate Tattoos (please credit if you decide to use it), and ends with a first-meeting! Hope you enjoy~!]

[Posted on A03]

This was not how the day was supposed to go. 

No, not at all, not a bit. 

But they're there now.

And here’s what happened.

Beast Boy had been in one of the Titan’s aircrafts heading for Paris, France, on an investigation of an old rumor. The rumor was really just a random, by-chance, overheard conversation heard in passing from someone describing having taken a vacation to France a handful of years back. The highlight of the vacation they had described was a shapeshifter. A beast with bright violet eyes had begun its attack at the city zoo in the form of a panther, and they supposedly witnessed it be defeated while in the form of a Tyrannosaurus-Rex by a pair of local heroes. 

The friends of the teller were skeptical — not because of lack of belief in heroes and villains, but because, as they searched the internet for satisfaction to their curiosity, there seemed to be no evidence whatsoever. The speaker had simply shrugged, stating they had been too panicked to take footage of their own, and the local news had skimmed over it excitedly — but too quickly to record a copy. They added, a little confused themselves, that when they returned home and tried to look it up, they, too, had seemed to be pulling up blanks with their searches.

Their only proof of evidence was their own word and memory.

They claimed to have found a few obscure posters online who shared similar stories of travels to Paris, but they all seemed to have very little luck in getting their stories shared or noticed.

Even the European branch of the Justice League only had a shrug in response to the questions.

Direct conversation seemed to be the only way these tales went heard, yet they never went far, a strange trait for rumors to have. 

So, there he was, on a simple recon mission. No engaging the enemy if seen, ask questions but do no harm. That’s was all it was intended to be. Well, it certainly didn’t go as planned.

Garfield watched as rather suddenly near the heart of Paris, a huge cloud of mixed colors and shades erupted. Perplexed, he began a slow turn to circle it, a mile wide berth between them. He barely got the controls turned before the cloud began to expand outward all round, and a wall of colors was heading for him. With wide eyes, he went to evade, but it was far too fast. 

For a short moment, he took notice as the closing in colors distinguished themselves through the new proximity to be small flower-like petals. They were uneven, non symmetrical, like little ovals cut diagonally through their minor axis. 

Then they struck.

Well, not so much struck as phased through the craft and him like they were nothing. 

Until the petals cleared and one, single, coral red petal struck him solid in his chest. He stumbled back, his seat no longer under him and the straps no longer securing his body to it.

In fact, the entire aircraft was gone. He was newly collapsed on the ground in an open street, a walled-in river to one side of him. In a panic he looked around, down at his chest and then right up into the sky. He spotted it still airborne and far off, with the wall of the cloud of colored petals having left it far behind as it disappeared into the distance. It took him a moment to realize it was now without a pilot.

“Uh-oh.”

He was off the ground in a moment, transforming into a falcon and took off after the craft.

He didn't reach it —definitely not for a lack of trying. 

Rather, barely after he started after it, a pale red glow emitted from his chest where he had been struck, and he found himself teleported once again back towards where he had been dropped the first time. He tried twice more before giving up.

Perched and pouting on top of a chimney, he watched as the craft finally crashed outside the city limits and unceremoniously caught itself on fire, leaving a glaring dark smear of smoke in the air. “Well, that sure went up in flames. What now.” 

A distant crashing sound pulls his attention completely around, and he finds himself staring wide eyed at a collapsing Eiffel Tower. 

“Well, today certainly has room to get better,” he remarked absently as the iconic landmark disappeared under a debris cloud of its own making. The glow from his chest started back up again, and he sighed as he braced himself. 

Beast Boy dropped into a bush, transforming back into his most human form as he jumps back out. He stops when he notices a very out of place rusted beam across his path. A lot of interconnecting beams. 

He looks down the length of the structure and realizes he’s at the Eiffel Tower now, at least, somewhere around where it’s now laying. Likely near what used to be the top, considering the beams were gathered close and the higher up ones sloping upwards and out, while the place where they gathered closer seemed to be supporting a floor, the rest of the structure's top hidden from view by the angle from where he stood.

He barely has time to consider what his first move should be before the glow is back, at the same time he hears another building collapse in the direction of the Tower’s feet, and he’s standing in a different spot.

At the bent and upturned feet of the Eiffel Tower. 

His brows furrowed and arms crossed, “I get the feeling I’m being dragged around now, that’s uncool ya know,” he adds, looking down with a halfhearted glare and frown to his chest. 

Not wanting to take any chances that whatever the coral red petal did to him would respond in kind, he turned back into a bird and took off in the direction he was being teleported, which seemed to correspond a little too well with the latest destruction. He really hoped he wouldn’t end up joining in a fight. He already lost his ride, he didn't want to break one of the mission’s rules, too.

Beast Boy watched the ground from above, and after a moment spotted movement followed by more noise. A giant came jumping out of a collapsing building. Several people, actually, two smaller, normal sized people carrying several others each followed suit.

The first person was huge, twice the average height. Their clothes — a simple androgynous formal suit and domino mask — were colored as though to mimic the cloud of petals as it had first appeared. The entire thing was swirls of blacks, greys, and whites, with an iridescent sheen like oil or mother-of-pearl. Their eyes and short hair matched as well, the entire look one matching theme. 

And they looked as mad as a smacked hornet.

The other two were running away from the first figure and setting down their human loads in safe spaces, people who must have simply been stragglers of an evacuation seeing as how there were no other people around, before heading right back towards the colorful…person. Was it even human? Nothing that tall was usually human. 

One was wearing an all-black, shiny leather bodysuit with matching close-body plates of armor, his eyes flashing green and catlike through his loose pale hair as they glared towards what Garfield now assumed was the enemy of the pair that rescued the people from the collapsed building. 

The other of the two wore an armored-looking bodysuit as well, but this one was red, black, and spotted, and just as shiny as the other. Her midnight hair was up in a braided bun, which was held in place by a pair of red, black-tipped ribbons, leaving her ocean-blue eyes clear below side-swept bangs. 

The two, obviously heroes, barely got close with a charge before they were jumping to retreat and dodge as the colorful villain began blasting them with shots and beams of equally colorful energy. The energy seemed to be dragged from the center of their chest, where two solid, iridescent metal petals, oil-black and mother-of-pearl white, slotted together into a heart, and into their hand’s grasp. 

“Power sources?” he mused as he settled on a roof edge. He was a bit worried, the heroes seemed to be doing just fine on their own for now. They were slowly gaining ground, without one sign of being injured at all. But it didn't seem to be fast enough, seeing the trail of destruction the fight was leaving behind. 

Maybe, he could help, just a bit. 

Yeah. 

Yeah! He could! 

He wasn’t exactly engaging the enemy, just… assisting some heroes! Besides, the enemy he was looking for in Paris obviously wasn't this one, so he was still following instructions, in a rule-dodging way, but still. 

Mind made up and a crooked grin on his beak, Beast Boy transformed once more. He was still a bird, but this time he chose a much smaller, much less noticeable bird. 

A hummingbird, to be exact. 

Zipping through the air, he made his way towards the fight, staying above it and out of the way of wildly-aimed energy shots, whipping yo-yo wire, and metal bo staff swings. He zigzagged through the air as they moved about, following and watching for an opening. The two other heroes communicated wordlessly, clearly teammates well-versed in their dynamic. He could tell though that the black-cat-styled one wanted to speak up a few times like a habit. Garfield could practically see the unsaid quips in his mouth, but he never got a chance, as they were interrupted by attacks every time.

“Mood,” he said to himself, as he was also not one to stay quiet for long. He just couldn't help it! It made the fights so much less tense for him, so less frightening. 

He also made a small note of how the villain didn't talk as well, and guessed that he had simply missed all the typical villain-monologue this one had had in stock.

The two heroes found their own openings before Beast Boy did, and they each struck opposite shoulders of the villain with their weapons, knocking them back into a wall with a crash. They didn't get up from the ground right away, but were quick to raise their hands yet in a counterattack. When the villain finally sat still for just a moment, Beast Boy struck.

Still a hummingbird, he dive-bombed straight down to the villain. He flew past their head on one side, grabbing the petal-heart-object as he pulled back up, then shot off back into the air on their other side.

The energy blasts fizzled out, since their power source — “Yes! I was right!” —had been removed. The villain looked panicked, looking all over the ground frantically for the item Beast Boy just stole and was now holding high in the air. The item, despite being metal, was surprisingly light, and his worry of needing to shift into a new form to hold it was dismissed. 

The hero pair, seeing the defenses of their opponent vanish, closed in. 

The fight was over the moment the wire of the ladybug themed yo-yo secured itself around the villain, unbudging. They took an extra moment to secure them to a tree, just in case they thought to try caterpillaring away as a last ditch effort.

“Pound it!” the two cheered in union, bumping their fists in a clearly traditional fashion. The two then glanced around themselves, looking for the villain’s power source that Beast Boy held. He noticed a purple mask-like butterfly symbol appear before the villain’s eyes as they scowled, fruitlessly struggling. 

The two heroes looked to each other then the villain with questions in their eyes. “Where did your Akumatized object go?” the ladybug-themed hero asked, clearly confused yet wary. 

The villain scoffed. “Like hell if I know. Yes, I don’t know where your stupid Akuma went, Hawkmoth, so leave me alone. We clearly lost this one. You aren't getting your precious Miraculous through me, and clearly I won't be finding my Soulmate through you.”

The colorful person doubled over and fell sideways in pain, held upright by the yo-yo, and Garfield felt alarmed and concerned at the sight. He dropped the Akumatized Object he had stolen, flitted closer to the tied up person, and transformed once more, now into a butterfly, and perching on the bark of the tree near them. 

The object made a light, ringing clatter as it hit the ground, and pulled the defeated villain and hero pair’s attention to it. 

“Oh!” the pair said, grinning to one another. 

“Care to do the honors, Chat Noir?” The ladybug one held out a red-and-black object, halting her partner in walking over to retrieve the heart-looking item.

Garfield saw the gleeful and mischievous smile spread as he took it. “Of course, might as well get some use out of it, don’t you say, Ladybug?” She only laughed and waved at the villain’s power source laying on the ground.

Chat Noir lifted and pulled back his arm, holding the red and black object, before flinging it forward at the Akumatized object.

It struck true, and embedded itself upright into the ground among the now perfectly split remains of the colorful, heart-shaped petals. 

The red and black item stopped quivering in its spot, and, besides the abnormal colors to the usually silver piece of merchandise, Garfield recognized it. 

It was a letter opener, with the handle in a perfectly shaped miniature replica of the Titans Tower. Garfield had one back in his quarters in that very Tower. 

Then, a violet-streaked black butterfly emerged from the shattered metal remains.

“Well, all together that was rather unnerving,” Beast Boy commented quietly, and the villain, who happened to be close enough to catch it, whipped their head around with wide eyes, staring at what used to be a very unassuming Beast Boy in butterfly form. 

“Sup,” he says, just before the enemy is rapidly covered in dark, violet black bubbles, which scared him off his tree perch and almost, almost, making him transform back into his usual form, but manages to hold it off. 

He stared at what is now a normal looking human, with no costume or signs of powers to be seen. The cable around them fell away with the slack. He kept staring, so much so that he missed whatever Ladybug does with her now retrieved yo-yo as she calls out, “No more evildoing for you, little Akuma! Gotcha!”

He did, however, manage to pry his eyes away from the un-transformed person quickly enough to watch Ladybug open her yo-yo to release a pure white butterfly. 

“Bye-bye, little Butterfly.” 

He flew up into the tree as the hero duo approached, ignoring the impromptu dagger Chat Noir had thrown, and shifted into a chipmunk to better perch and look down from the branches.

“Hawkmoth is no longer a threat to you. How are you feeling?” Chat Noir asked, crouching down by his partner. Concern was laced into his soothing tone. Ladybug had gathered up the petals of the broken Akumatized item, revealed to be a set of two half-heart pins, as well as the letter opener, and was now sitting close to the untransformed person.

“I…” They paused, looking down at their now-exposed arm. Two lines of text flowed parallel up their forearm. The bottom one had faded into a sickly grey. Some of the words he could read of it were not very pretty. Tears built and fell from their eyes and they sobbed. 

“She said something to me, it- it was bad, really bad… I never knew that words that ‘mean the most’ can sometimes be so… so mean. I...” They sniffled. “I wanted to find my other soulmate, I really needed them…”

Ladybug gave them a sympathetic smile and rested a hand on theirs in comfort. It became apparent to him that this person must have been a victim to this Hawkmoth person and that dark butterfly he had seen. 

“Words have a lot of weight on us,” Ladybug said to them, “The people behind them and their meanings can be a lot to have sometimes. I want you to remember something,” she requests, and wiped away a tear from the civilian’s face. 

“Remember that if these aren't the words you want on you, to make an effort to change them. Make sure she puts in the effort, too. You know why? Because they are her words to write, not just yours to bear. You don't have to accept these words if you don't want them to be the ones that have the most meaning.”

Ladybug gently tapped the faded words with an encouraging smile. “See? Even now, you’re making sure they don't stay. You can bring them back, if you still want to keep your connection and strengthen it. Just make sure the words that are there are the ones you truly want to value most.

“And them?” She tapped once more on their arm, now on the other set of words, and finally dropped the two heart halves into their palm, then closed their fingers around it. “You'll meet them when it's time. Not even I could make mine come sooner than they're meant to. Don’t worry, you’ll meet yours and hear their words, I’m sure of it, when it's right.”

“Never heard words so wise, Bug,” Chat Noir added with a soft and proud grin. He helped the victim stand, after making sure they were steady, before letting them head off. Lingering sorrow and pain were still clear in their tense shoulders, but hope and determination powered their steps.

Ladybug stood with a sigh and a content smile, before she pulled the Titan Tower letter opener back out and gave it a last glance before tossing it into the air.

“Miraculous Ladybug!”

Garfield watched in stunned awe as the world was momentarily filled with glittering ladybugs, and as they swept past him, all damage was turned right back to what it had been before. He even watches the sparkling trail as it brought back the city’s iconic Eiffel Tower. 

When they were gone, he turned his gaze and attention back to the heroes and their enemy-turned-civilian. 

But they weren't there.

In fact, as he stumbled back once more, “Oh snaps,” and popped back into his regular form, he’s pretty sure he was the one who now wasn't where the two heroes are, wherever that was. He spun around, and there was the aircraft that was nothing more than a hot mess in the distance barely over an hour before. 

Surprisingly, he was right where he and it were originally supposed to be: parked in a clearing outside the city.

“Huh. Weird.” Garfield heads into the aircraft, going straight for the communications station. He finds it blown up with notifications of warnings and concerns from his team. 

He read over it all, making sure to record and send a quick report of what he experienced on his end.

Turns out, that cloud of petals had expanded out at a seemingly impossible rate over the surface of the Earth and even out towards space. The petals seemed to be physically unstoppable, except for the single petals that would break from the main wall and were apparently attracted to individuals. Every individual to be precise, like there was a petal or even more assigned for every person in the universe. 

One of the speedsters had even tried to outrun his own and failed at it. He had coincidentally ended up in Paris, too, though he had been rather disappointed he didn't get to see the Eiffel Tower —it just wasn't there. 

Beast Boy figured he just got there some time after it had collapsed and couldn't see it from where he was.

Also it turned out that everyone experienced the same thing he had when they stuck: they were teleported somewhere they didn't know, or didn’t intend to go, or hadn't expected to get to so soon. 

At least, that was the experience of those who hadn't met their soulmates yet.

Those who knew their soulmates were simply teleported to each other: either to the location one was already in, or somewhere random in between. 

And when the magic ladybugs came to the rescue, everyone was put where they had been.

He thought it was over, then started one more recording to message out. 

“Hey guys. So, I think I know what happened. I don’t think whatever put everyone back actually put people back, exactly. See, I mentioned how I was brought back to the aircraft, right? Well, this isn't where it crashed, it's where my landing zone was. It's where I was supposed to be, not where I had been, especially considering I was hit while still flying this thing. 

“That lady hero, Ladybug? She said something about not being able to force a meeting between soulmates before its time. And the Akuma — that’s what that villain was, by the way, just now found out — turns out I can find all the stuff I need on the Internet while in Paris. I bet it's either a magic or cyber firewall that keeps it in check outside of Paris’ networks. 

“I even found stuff on that shapeshifter! He was an Akuma, too, Animan, so he’s long gone. Anyway, the Akuma wanted to find their other soulmate after being hurt by the first one. Bet you five that their power was to transport soulmates closer to each other. Bet again the fact that I haven't met mine yet kept it from transporting me all the way, but the Akuma also kept me from getting too far away.”

His face lit up in a wide, dopey grin with realization. “I bet mine is here, I wasn't able to get very far away from all the fighting after all, maybe they were one of the people who got caught up in the fight.” His smile softened, and he rubbed the nape of his neck, where he knew his soulmate’s words spanned over it, starting from one shoulder and ended on the other. 

“Even if I met them while the fight was still going, I bet another five that not once, through even a whole convo, they would have said the words. After all, you can't force a first meeting. It has to be a surprise.

“Besides,” he laughed, “with the adventure I was on, that would have been one big terrible circumstance for a first meet, yeah? So let's see where this goes. Beast Boy, out!”

He sent out the new update message before he stood and stretched, then dressed out of his hero uniform and into casual clothes. Beast Boy finally booked it out of the aircraft with a holler powered by a previously-suppressed excitement finally coming to the surface. 

“MY SOULMATE’S IN PARIS!! But first,” he added with a sly grin to himself, “food!”

~~~

Ladybug watched as the magic ladybugs clear away the damages before turning back to Chat. “Well, this was an eventful day. Glad we didn’t get teleported halfway across the world or something,” she added as the two make their way onto a high roof. 

Chat follows her up and laughs, giving a lighthearted shrug, “True, but I bet we can thank Kaalki for that — at least, on my end.” He reached into his pocket and pulled out a pair of silver sunglasses that he slid on with a wink. A Kwami followed the glasses out and hovered at his shoulder.

The Horse Kwami spoke up with a huff as she accepted a macaroon from Ladybug. “You absolutely can thank me, and should. You, M. Chat Noir, almost got transported to the Americas. I had to cancel out Split-Soul's power until your other Soulmate was struck with their own Soul-Petal, thus bringing them here. It took longer than expected; whoever they are, they must have found some way to avoid the Soul-Petals, at least temporarily.” 

“And Ladybug?”

Kaalki gave him an odd look. “You are my current wielder, and I can only use my transportation ability once at a time, in this case, on you, in a non-stop reverse-teleportation. I had no time or energy afterwards to attempt the same for Mlle. Ladybug. However, it seems she had no need for my power. My guess is her Luck held and her other Soulmate is either already in Paris or was brought here, instead of her to them. Or the Soulmate Bond between you two assisted in keeping her here, any of these options are plausible.”

The two heroes looked at each other with dumbfounded expressions as the information sank in. 

“Ladybug…”

“Chat… They could be here. Right now. I- I might meet my Soulmate soon.” She became overwhelmed with nerves, excited and nervous all at once. 

Her partner grinned at her as he saw what was about to happen coming, and opened his arms to her. She slammed into him with a crushing hug, laughing as her overflow of emotions comes out as tears.

“I don't even know if I’ll meet them yet,” she added, hugging her best friend closer for a bit of extra support. “But that's okay, just knowing they were so close, even for a little bit, it’s… amazing. I just can't wait. I hope we meet soon.”

“I look forward to you telling me all about them, Bug. Good Luck.” They both laughed at that, knowing full well her luck was always out of whack outside the suit, and he never could avoid a fitting yet sincere pun. 

She breathed deeply for a moment then stepped back and wiped away her tears; Chat made sure to catch the ones she missed. 

“You good?”

“Good.” She nodded, and gave him a beaming smile that he returned. “Now, let’s head home! Maman and Papa made a huge order today and you know there's always extras left over.”

“Yes!” He cheered, pulling out his baton, “Dupain-Cheng sweets, here I come!”

Together the two headed to Marinette’s home, and dropped in through her open skylight that they had exited through and left open earlier when the first Akuma struck, then latched it shut with an added sense of finality to their day. They de-transformed and toss their respective Kwamis their treats before following each other down the multiple flights of stairs, then burst into the back of the bakery with big smiles. 

“Marinette! Adrien!” Sabine Cheng smiled back at the two as they made their appearance. “You're just in time, we have some reject meringues left over for you to take upstairs for snacks if you want them. Would you mind helping us in the bakery later before closing? We expect a small rush for all the end-of-day goods.”

“Of course, Sabine!” Adrien nods enthusiastically, grabbing the tray of proffered meringues. “Did the Akuma earlier cause any troubles here? That one was a doozy, almost gave me a heart-attack.” He emphasized his private pun with a wink towards Marinette, who smirked and rolled her eyes.

Sabine laughed, though remained oblivious to the secret behind the pun. “Other than Tom appearing in front of me on top of the counter without warning? No, all was well here. Though, he did grab one of the shelves when he almost fell — turns out it's a bit loose, ‘cause it fell right off the wall with the baskets of bread. Lucky us, Ladybug’s cure cleaned it all right up, and we can fix the shelves tomorrow.”

“Oh! I can do it when we come back down. It’s safest to get it done as soon as possible, right? I’ll even do it before the rush, promise.” He saluted, emphasizing the promise like a scout.

Sabine nodded, no longer shocked by his eagerness to help out. Sometimes, she just wanted to adopt the boy, and she knew she could without a doubt. “Alright, dear, just be careful when you do.”

“Yes Ma’am! Let's go, Marinette!” He grabbed her hand, the one where his words were etched into her wrist, balanced the tray on his other, and dragged her back up the stairs. 

“Slow down, you’ll make me trip!” she exclaimed, and followed him up with only a slight stumble. 

They headed right back up to her room, and passed a meringue each to the three Kwami, then proceeding up the steps to her loft and out into the open air of her shaded balcony. He set the tray down on her spool table. The two settled down into matching lounge chairs on either side of it and finally took treats of their own.

“So…” Adrien started, looking at her expectantly, a mischievous glimmer in his eyes.

“Hm?” Marinette looks back at him as she bit her meringue, tilting her head curiously, though wary at his look.

“Your other Soulmate, huh?”

She scoffed, rolling her eyes at him once more. “Haven't met them yet, like you already know. Yeah, they might be in Paris, but we don't know for sure. And like I told the Akuma victim, we won't meet until it's time.”

“But you're still hopeful, right?”

“Yeah, like I said earlier, I hope I meet them soon, but, I’m okay if not. I know they're out there, and that still counts.”

He sighs and laid back. “Yeah, me, too. Though, knowing they were so close? It’s a little hard to not be disappointed that not even an Akuma’s desire-fulfilling powers could bring them around quicker. Just wish they would get here faster. Like come on, pick up your feet!” He threw out his arms dramatically before slumping back in a pout.

She laughed and reached across the table to pat his hair. “They're coming as fast as they can, promise.”

He looked back at her in mock skepticism before his grin returned in full force. “Speaking of picking up feet, can I see you other Soulmate’s words again? They make me crack up every time.”

“Oh come on! They're not that ironic,” she protested, but obliges anyways as she lifts her right leg and settles the ankle to rest on the edge of the table. 

“Are you kidding me?” he questioned, leaning forward to look at the words, laughter in his eyes. “This is being ironic at full power. I would swear with you being, well, her, and these words, you would have met them by now.”

Words wrapped around her ankle like a decorative piece of jewelry. 

“Oh wow, my hero, thanks!”

“Yeah, well, you’ve seen yours, too, right?” She reached over and tugged up his shirt, revealing the words running along the front of his left hip.

“Since when did the cat lady have a son?”

He laughed, and she added, “If your dad knew why it said that, he would faint on the spot and then lock you up permanently when he comes to.” He only laughed harder at the thought and she sat back again with an exasperated grin of her own. 

As he quieted again, he looked at her with a question. “Kaalki said the Americas, right? Do you think it might have been the United States?”

“We can ask later, but yeah, maybe. Why?”

“Well, it does say ‘cat lady’, so clearly we’re bound to meet while I’m being him. Do you think this ‘cat lady’ is, maybe, another hero?” He looked nervous to ask, but open to the idea. 

“Maybe? We can check.” She waved her phone at him, the search engine already open. She took a moment to search ‘cat themed american heroes’ while Adrien leaned closer, biting into a meringue as he did so. 

She shook her head at the broad list of results, humming to herself in thought. “Maybe…” She tried again, changing the search to ‘black cat themed american vigilantes’. Her eyes went wide at the top results, and pulled up an image, showed it to him, and his expression followed suit to her own.

“Is that…” 

“Yep. You know, with the familiarity that ‘cat lady’ sounds like, maybe you should be thinking about if your Soulmate is the one who’s also a hero.” She finished off her meringue with a pointed look, and he munched the last of his with a thoughtful look.

“What if,” he swallows before continuing, pointing at her, “both of us have hero Soulmates?”

She took a moment to process that then looked out over her balcony railing, tapping her chin. “Yeah, maybe. I mean, it would make a whole lot of sense. I don't see us stopping being heroes even after Hawkmoth is defeated. Even if someone else takes up his mantle like Timetagger suggested, there will always be other villains out there, new and old, big and small. I want to help fight them, so maybe we’ll be helping other heroes, too, and not just us on our own.”

The soft smile he gave her in response relaxed her, and she smiled back just as softly.

“You're right, Buginette. I wouldn't want to stop and give that up, not ever. I plan to go full Daredevil!” Adrien cheered — a bit too enthusiastically, because he wound up knocking the empty tray off the table with his arm, and it fell to the deck, bounced with a clang, and went right through the bars of the railing — falling to the ground below. 

They both rushed over and leaned out, checking to see if it fell on anyone. The sidewalk and street was clear, and the tray was resting rather casually against the curb. Marinette raises a brow at him. “I thought Daredevil was aware of his surroundings at all times.” 

Adrien chuckled sheepishly and rubbed his neck guiltily, but bumped her side in retaliation to her jibe. “I meant fighting crime both in and out of the mask, you know? Become a lawyer or something.”

Marinette nodded and gave an encouraging smile. “Yeah. Yeah, I can see it. I’ll help you out any way I can.”

He gives a sly smile, “Any way? Even show up in court as her and then reveal yourself?”

Without hesitation, she nodded once with a sense of finality. “Yes, even that. You’re my partner, my friend, and practically my brother, if my parents have say anyways. I support you, all the way.”

His grin is wide and bright as he turned to her fully and pulled down his shirt, revealing her words written over his heart. She has no time to read them as she watched them rewrite themselves before her eyes, sparkling silver before fading back to black.

“You’re my partner, my friend, and practically my brother. I support you, all the way.”

She laughed and looked him in the eyes as he grinned back, her heart feeling loved, and she loved knowing her words meant so much to him. “You missed a part.” 

He laughed, too, and then they're both giggling against each other's sides as they looked back at the ground, unconcerned for the moment about the tray. 

“Remember our first words to each other?” Adrien asked quietly, soft and content.

“Mhm, you said “Well, hey there, nice of you to drop in,” right after I fell on you that first day.” They both giggled again and he nodded.

“Yep, and you said, “Sorry, I didn't do it on purpose.” Who would have known what those lines would mean to us, let alone why they were said. I’m glad they happened. You're the best person out there, Marinette, thanks for dropping in on me.”

“Yeah.”She nodded back to him with a held back laugh. “You're welcome I'm such a klutz.”

They sat in comfortable silence after that, just basking in the renewed calmness of the day, and casually kept an eye on the fallen tray to make sure no one saw it and took off with it. 

A slight disturbance down on the far side of the park drew Marinette's eyes and she nudged Adrien, gesturing toward it. “See that?”

He looked, and a moment later made a face like he bit something distasteful. “We’ve both seen enough fan-made crowds to know what that is, and how to avoid them. I wonder who the poor famous soul is.”

“Let’s find out,” she said, and whipped her phone out once more, opening the camera function. He raised a brow at that. 

“Your camera’s that good?” 

She nodded with a grin, “Yep! Lucked out with this one,” she stated with a wink.

He rolled his eyes but grinned in appreciation. “Good for you, mine stinks like cheese.”

“Get new cheeses then,” she quipped, and ignored his plaintive “I wish…” as she leaned closer to her screen as she zoomed in. 

It takes a minute, but she finally got a good image and a clear view, and snapped a picture, sitting back with wide eyes as she looked it over. “No way.”

“What? Let me see, who is it?” She let him take the phone as she looked back over the balcony and down towards the relatively small and far-off gathering of people.

“Pretty sure that's a foreign superhero, Adrien.”

“No way,” he parroted as he stared between the phone and the small group. “That's definitely a hero —. one of the Titans, too; I recognize him from one of Alya’s other hero blogs. That’s so cool, we don’t actually get to see other heroes that often, do we?”

Marinette shook her head, looking back to him. “Nope. We’re way too busy all the time, even with one so close we probably shouldn't try going over, even in costume.” Adrien deflates a bit at that, but nods in understanding, knowing full well what she means. “Besides, like you said, Alya has her side blogs, and nothing hero-related ever gets past her. I bet she'll have something up on one of the blogs by tomorrow.”

Adrien brightened back up with a chuckle. “Yeah, Paris gets a lot of visiting heroes. Alya won't rest whenever one is spotted. Still, I don't think we've ever had one visit so close to an Akuma attack before, I wonder if he saw it…”

“At the very least he experienced it,” she stated “That Heart-Petal blast Split-Soul did went worldwide, if not off-world, too.”

“True. Not a lot of Akumas pull attention from outside of Paris, though. So, here’s to hoping none of it is negative.” He held up a split meringue he had previously stashed away, offering her a half. 

She took it and tapped it against his as they call out in unison, “Hear hear!”

Together, they finished off their last treat and headed back down into the building once more. They joined Marinette’s parents in the bakery, and Marinette went to get the fallen tray from outside, then brought it to the back. She found Tom and asked if he needed help with the cleaning in the back, including the shutting off and clean-out of the ovens. Adrien found Sabine and asked about the shelf. 

Sabine helped Adrien bring out a ladder for him to use, as well as a couple tools and screws that he set aside. Marinette joined the two up front, as her father had claimed he would get her assistance later and sent her to help with the shelf.

“We need to get all the bread off the shelves first. Here, I’ll pass them to you, okay?” He went up the ladder and grabbed the first bundle. 

Unfortunately, he seemed to be rather unused to the use of ladders, and had  trouble turning or stepping back down without his arms. 

In what Marinette assumed was an accurate rendition of what happened earlier with Tom Dupain, Adrien stumbled on his perch and, after dropping half the bread, shot out an arm to grab the very shelf they were trying to get fixed.

Just as that was happening, Marinette saw the flash of movement at the door as it opened with a little ring from its bell. After so many years of practice predicting chain effects and their results, her movements came instinctively. 

She jumped forward, grabbed an empty display tray, and held it above their heads as a makeshift shield against all the catapulted bread and the shelf itself as she dove for the newcomer to unceremoniously tackle him out of the way. 

The shelf had scraped the bottom of the tray as she had gotten in its way, shoving it off course, and as the two people went down, one end of the shelf thudded hard into the ground just to the side of where it had previously been headed, the place the newcomer had been about to be, before falling to the floor with a bang.

Marinette and the other both sat up on the floor and looked over to the shelf and the surrounding mess of bread. Adrien and Sabine are both momentarily stunned into a still silence.

“Oh wow, my hero, thanks!” The other boy breaks it, and Marinette tinted with a gentle blush alongside her nervous laugh. She hadn't heard that phrase as often outside of Ladybug’s mask, and it had always felt different, a bit more embarrassing. 

This time it had felt a little extra different in another way and she turned to him.

She blinked owlishly as she recognized Beast Boy beside her, already realizing the words that next tumbled from her mouth were full of both irony and coincidence, considering she really was a hero, and so too was he, but at the same time being protection from baked goods and a shelf wasn't much of a heroic feat.

 “I’m not much of a hero, I just do what needs to be done, the best I can. Anyone can do it.” His expression lights up at her words, and she realizes in that moment why him having called her a hero felt so different: Her Soulmate Mark was reacting to the words he spoke, and she felt them for the first time as though they were a solid thing around her ankle, right where it belonged.

Beast Boy was quick to reply, “I’ve never heard words more true.” 

His grin widened and his eyes seemed to glimmer. 

“Well, I’ve certainly read such true words,” he adds. “But it’s nice to finally hear you say it. Hi, I’m Garfield, Gar for short, and, I think you’re my Soulmate. I really hope I'm not wrong.”

Adrien and Sabine, who had both broken from their stupor sometime during the floorbound conversation and had moved closer to check on the two, both froze for a second time at Garfield’s words.

They all watched as Marinette felt Garfield’s words react once more and she stuck out her right ankle for all to see as the words there shimmered a golden iridescent. It felt like she had put her ankle directly into a beam of sunlight through a window, before it faded back to black and the feeling left.

“I think you’re my soulmate. I really hope I’m not wrong.”

She flushed a darker shade as she covered it back up, embarrassed to have everyone see just how important those specific words had been to her, and so soon after meeting him, too! At least one of her fears was eased: she hadn't met her Soulmate while being Ladybug.

“Hi, I’m Marinette, and we’re definitely soulmates. It’s nice to finally meet you. Sorry about the bread.” She quickly stood up from the ground and held out her hand to her Soulmate. He grasped it lightly and they steadied each other as he pulled himself up, a bit of a dopey grin on his face. 

“Nice to meet you too, Mari, and don't worry about it, I've been through far worse than almost being turned into bread pudding.” Adrien laughs at that, breaking from his second shock, and was joined by an overhearing Tom who had finally joined the group in the front to investigate the original commotion. Even though her mother turned a sympathetic yet encouraging look to her, Marinette didn't feel at all disappointed that a third jokester had added himself into her life.

“Garfield, meet my mother Sabine, my father Tom, and my Platonic Soulmate Adrien. My family. Family, welcome Garfield, my Soulmate.”

And welcome him they did, with open arms and several hugs, one of which he pointedly compared to Cyborg’s in strength with a touch of amused surprise. 

Honestly, this was not how the day was supposed to go for either of them.

No, not at all, not a bit.

At least, from their expectations it wasn't.

In actuality, it went exactly as it was Destined.

And they're here now.

That’s what matters.

[End!! Thank y’all so much~!!]

Tag List: @the-navistar-carol @persephonebutkore @freshbark @ethelphantom @soulmate-game 

[wafflesrock16]

Ink and Blooms

So, the amazingly talented @autodiscothings updated her fantastic fic Acts Of Repetition recently, and the latest chapter featured an incredibly lovely turian tattoo artist. Smitten, I asked Auto if I could write a lil thing with her boy and she agreed.

So! Here’s my ode to @autodiscothings sweet turian bae, Nous. Naturally I have a human lady falling for him because I am predictable trash.

Zenellia D’kafi, the asari matriarch who ran Thessian Impressions floral boutique was a force of nature when it came to cultivating new clients. 

“Everyone is a potential client,” she informed Faustine from behind a large mug of tea. “A random hanar apostle might wish to leave flowers as an offering to the Enkindlers. The elcor business man, away from home too frequently, would like a bouquet to send to his wife as a reminder he’s thinking of her.”

Faustine glanced up from where she was meticulously measuring out gold silk ribbon. “And Adamius Studios?” She glanced out the shop window to the studio across the street. It used to be a mattress store, though little of the building’s past life remained on the exterior. 

Zenellia smiled, the light sparkling in her cornflower eyes. “Nous Adamius,” she said, drawing out the surname. “Now there’s an artist who’s in demand. The tattooist of the elite.” She followed Fautine’s gaze. “Hmm. In his case, he’s hosting an art exhibition for select clientele next week. The who’s-who of wealth and influence will be there--they always show up for art exhibits.”

“And our supplying the floral arrangements might garner other high-end customers in addition to Nous,” Faustine surmised. 

“Smart girl,” Zenellia said, taking a prim sip of tea. “You know, I have a mind to let you finalize the arrangements with Mr. Adamius.”

“Really?” Faustine clasped her hands to her mouth with excitement. “A solo consult?”

Zenellia chuckled, leaning against the glass counter. “I’ve already discussed the arrangements with him, so this will just be hemming in the finer details. Where he wants the vases placed and so on. You’ve been with me on enough consultations and set-ups, you can do this on your own.”

“Thank you Miss Zenellia!” Faustine reigned herself in. “I can handle this,” she said, straightening her posture. “When do I meet with him?”

“Tomorrow morning, before his studio opens.”

                                                    **********

Faustine enjoyed fashion. And art and flowers and color. Her wardrobe was a blend of bright color and textures. Her grandmother used to say that she would have loved Earth back in the 1980’s and based on pictures she’d seen, Faustine was inclined to agree. 

But today was professional. Her mentor was trusting her to make a good impression and Faustine needed to represent Thessian Impressions while also simultaneously reassuring Nous--Mr. Adamius--that he’d made a wise choice in ordering floral arrangements for his event and should consider doing so again. 

Faustine chose a slate pant-suit with a violet camisole from the back of her closet. It was from an elite fashion line, but had been on clearance since it was from the year before. Still, as she slipped on black high heels, Faustine felt a sense of empowerment. 

She hesitated over her hair. Did turians even notice human hair? Should she take the extra effort to curl it? Deciding it couldn’t hurt, Faustine brushed, curled, and styled her auburn locks until they gleamed under the artificial bathroom lights. Some mascara and bright red lipstick completed the look and before she could second guess herself, she was hailing a skycar and then stepping out in front of Adamius Studios.

She normally walked to work, but doing so in heels was out of the question. These were shoes for show, not practicality. Pulling up her omni-tool, she contacted Mr. Adamius to let him know she was from Thessian Impressions and here to speak to him. 

The windows to the studio were opaque, but in a slow parade of light starting from the back of the building, the room lit up. The door opened as Faustine leaned closer to peer inside. 

“Hello.” 

“Hi! Mr. Adamius?”

He nodded, opening the door wider for her to enter. She’d seen him before, of course--he worked across the street. She’d never seen him up close, though. He was a good deal taller than her but held himself tightly like a curled fern frond. The effect gave him a shorter, hunched appearance. 

He had pale plates, not quite white, but a light tan. His hide was a deep molten red with eyes that reminded her of orange, autumn leaves. 

His most notable feature wasn't his eyes or plates or posture. He had bold, purple colony markings which ran in thick lines toward his eye sockets like a roadmap.The plating on his arms bore similar lines of the same color. Faustine wondered if colony markings extended all over the body. She’d never considered it before, but as she admired the bold, black, geometric patterns that spiraled away from his neck plating in a decorative collar, she decided that this was art, unrelated to the colony markings turians were so famous for. 

Mr. Adamius cleared his throat loudly and Faustine realized with racing horror that she’d been staring at him with wide eyes and an open mouth like he were an exhibit on show. 

“Oh!” It was her turn to clear her throat. “Your tattoos are beautiful,” she murmured, looking at the floor. 

“Thank you.” His voice was soft. Not at all loud and bold like his art. “You work for Matriarch Zenellia?”

Faustine released a small sigh that they were moving on. “Yes, I’m her protege, as it were. She wanted me to finalize the details with you for next week.”

She smiled, tilting her head in a friendly manner. Mr. Adamius flicked out a mandible in what she associated as a turian smile, though he avoided looking her in the eyes. She wondered if that was a personality thing or something… maybe he doesn’t like me? 

“I was thinking of an arrangement on the reception desk and a few smaller vases along the wall,” Mr. Adamius said, pointing to where several bed posts were mounted and functioning as coat racks. A large, framed canvas sat beneath the racks. On it was what looked like an abstract shoal of fish with luminous, foreign script weaving through it. Faustine didn’t recognize the writing but felt it safe to assume it was turian.“I discussed using a mix of thessian, earth, and palaveni flowers,” Mr. Admius continued. “I want the color scheme to stay cobalt, gold, and white, but I’m open to flower types. Nothing too lavish, the art is the focal point.”

“Zenellia mentioned that,” Faustine said, wiping away any concerns about her likability for the moment. Pulling up her omni-tool, she moved closer to Mr. Adamius to show him the samples of different arrangements in the colors he’d requested. This close, she could smell a slightly acrid scent of what she assumed was ink. But overpowering that was a woody smell that reminded her of pine trees. Mr. Adamius smells like Christmas, she thought.

She glanced up at him from where he was admiring a proposed arrangement. He was wearing loose fitted clothes that placed his heavily inked hide on full display. Zenella had mentioned he was younger, but the asari considered everyone younger since she herself was 876 years old.

Nous seems like he’s my age. Maybe a little older. Early to mid thirties? 

“I like this one best,” he said, oblivious to her internal musings. Faustine looked at the arrangement he’d chosen. It was the one she’d put together. Not the four Zenella had proposed, but the one she had done. 

“I did that one,” she told him proudly. 

“It’s beautiful,” he said in a softer voice, looking not at her eyes, but seemingly her hair. “It’ll work perfectly for what I have planned.”

Instead of replying Faustine responded by grinning at him like an idiot. She was high on accomplishment, she’d convince herself later. But it was thanks to this that Mr. Adamius nervously glanced away, toward a small, unassuming painting partially concealed by the reception desk.

“Is that an anchor?” She pointed at the familiar shape which was the main subject of the painting. 

“Yes. I’m fond of the nautical themes found in all cultures. The convergence of design between them, be they human, asari, or turian. We’re all interconnected by the oceans of our worlds.” He let out a quiet hum, unfurling from his tightly held hunch. “It reminds me of my childhood, too, I suppose.”

“You grew up near the ocean?” Faustine asked curiously. “I thought turians weren’t the biggest fans of deep, open water. No offense!” she added, horrified she’d possibly insulted him. 

His easy chuckle immediately set her at ease. “Overall, you’re right. Most turians avoid the open ocean. But my homeworld is different.” His mandibles flicked outward as he looked down at his hands. The three fingers of his left hand each bore a small fish tattoo on the knuckle. “Rocam has a huge fishing industry. I grew up around the sea and fishing boats. My childhood involved lots of fishing and playing in the surf. Eating charred salmo around a beach fire with my grandparents. Listening to fisherman swap stories on the wharf.”

Faustine watched the fish tattoos flex with his fingers. Remembering the other canvas leaning against the wall, she looked closer at the framed picture. The fish looked like they were formed from ink splats, honed with a pen to give them more definition and shape.

“You did that?” she asked pointing. 

Turning, Mr. Adamius nodded. “I did all the nautical themed paintings in here,” he said. Faustine felt like the quiet, rolling subvocals under the spoken words were proud. 

“You’re so talented,” she sighed, feeling mildly envious. “Do you have other paintings like that one?”

“Yes, but they’re in the back. I’ll put them out next week for the exhibit.”

“Oh.”

“I…” a soft whine escaped through his tightly clamped mandibles. “Would you, um. Like to come to the exhibit?”

“Your art exhibit next week? Of course I’d love to go!” Faustine forced herself to school her features into a more poised look. “I mean, if you’re inviting me, I’d absolutely love to see the rest of your work.”

Nous let out a huff of air. “It’s not just my work, all the artists in the studio are going to display something. But if you’d like to come, I’d love to see you. At the event.” He cleared his throat, stepping away from her personal space which at some point he’d entered. 

“Thank you,” Faustine whispered, feeling a blush creep over her cheeks. “Um, I’ll let Zenella know which arrangement you selected and where and how many you wanted.” She made to head for the door, but forgetting her high heels, tripped and nearly collapsed face first into the deep blue and white rug.

A strong arm seized her around the waist and held her until she was steady on her feet again. “Damn shoes,” she muttered, more embarrassed then she’d been in years. “Nous, I--”

“Not a problem. Are you all right?”

“Fine, I’m fine. Only thing injured is my pride.” She gave him a sheepish smile, sure her face was beet red. 

For the first time since she’d entered his studio, Nous looked her in the eye. “Wounded pride isn’t the worst injury,” he said in that soft, smokey voice. 

She stared into the swirling amber of his irises. Turians had smaller eyes than humans, but their gaze was intense. She wondered what he thought about her own hazel eyes. 

He bowed his head after a moment, rubbing the back of his neck. “So, I’ll see you at the exhibit?”

“Before that, actually,” she replied, blinking away whatever trance she’d fallen under. “I’ll bring the flowers by an hour before your exhibit starts.”

“I look forward to seeing you then.”

So do I, Faustine thought, tucking a strand of hair behind her ear as she headed out the door. So do I.

[paradisobound]

Down In the Forest

Summary: Dan Howell is the heir to the throne in his kingdom, due to marry and take the seat within the year. However, he doesn't want that. Running away to the clearing outside of his kingdom every night, he meets Phil, who is from a neighboring kingdom. As Dan develops feelings for Phil, he realizes that his crush on Phil is actually problematic in more ways than one.

Word Count: 6.8k 

Warnings: Vampire!Dan 

**Read on Ao3**

A/N: This is my second fic written for the @phandomreversebang! It was based on the prompt by @2easy2hate which was essentially a royal vampire!dan au which I thought was super interesting to try and do! My beta for this fic was @hiddenpastry and they were so helpful and encouraging with my procrastination haha I have plans to release an epilogue in the next few weeks where it'll have a glimpse into the future which Val and I agreed will help to tie up whatever may be 'loose' at this end of this one shot.

The forest was a sacred place for Dan Howell. He wasn’t exactly sure why he felt so calm being here, but he did. The sound of the leaves bristling in the wind and the distance chirps of birds were calming. He was used to coming here as soon as he was done with his studies for the day, after the sun had set and no harm would be done to his sensitive skin.

Today was no different for him. Notebook in hand, and bag slung across his body, he trudged through the grass, past the trees, to the small clearing where he took refuge from the day. He chose this place when he was just a child, after fighting with his parents over his obligations.

His first lesson of the day was writing, then it was history, and finally it was his lessons on moral obligations as the heir of his kingdom. He had a list of rules he had to have memorized before he became heir on his 18th birthday...less than a year away. It was a rule in their kingdom that the eldest son takes over as soon as they turn 18 years of age. It was also a rule that 6 months before they take the throne, they need to be married...but Dan didn’t want to think of that. Especially when his first “party” to find his future wife was in less than a week.

That’s partly why Dan ran away at night, after he was dismissed by his teachers. He enjoyed coming here where he could write in his notebook and get immersed in his own little world, where none of this existed and he could be a normal teenager. Not the heir to the most successful kingdom in modern history.

Dan sat down on the grass, leaning back and resting against the tree behind him. He propped his legs up and opened his bag against his side, taking out his notebook. It was getting well-worn, well-used. But that didn’t bother Dan. Not as he opened to the halfway point of the pages and went back to the story he was writing.

He’ll remain here until his hunger gets the better of him, and he’ll have to go back to his kingdom, back to his castle, to feed.

Because that’s one of the rules of the Vaedian Kingdom: you never feed in public.

It’s not uncommon for the people living around the kingdom to know that the Howells had unusual habits. That’s what they say anyway. Dan didn’t realize he was different until he was taught about it...about his immortal abilities.

Maybe as a child, Dan should have known that when his hunger reached a peak, it wasn’t normal to suddenly have glowing red eyes or sharp teeth that jutted out of his gums. But to his family, it was normal. His entire family was this way, so there was no reason for Dan to be any different.

At the thought of food, his stomach grumbles and Dan ignores it, instead he looks down at his notebook and rereads over the last line he had written down. He doesn’t even know what this story is anymore. It’s more like a stream of consciousness, a way for him to gather his thoughts about his ever changing life as he grows older.

He reaches into his bag and pulls out his pen and begins to scribble down the next parts of his story. He lets his hand and his mind interconnect and even just writes until he can’t anymore.

The moonlight is coming down on him, brighter than it was before. The stars in the sky are illuminating everything around him and he supposes that this is the time he should start heading back.

He packs up his notebook and his pen and slowly stands up, stretching from sitting down so long in such a cramped position. He adjusts his clothing and his bag against his hip and begins the short journey back home, where he’ll have a snack and then go lay down in his bed chamber.

***

“Prince Daniel, you were out late last night?”

Dan looks up from his school work to his servant Johnathon in front of him. He’s got a drink in his hand, and he’s setting it in front of Dan. The dark maroon color is enough to make Dan’s stomach swoon at the thought of indulging in it’s glorious taste. He takes the glass and picks it up, taking a long sip and letting the copper taste sit on his tongue.

“If I may ask, your highness, but what do you partake in when you go out at night after your studies?”

“I go to the clearing and write in my notebook,” Dan answers honestly. He can trust Johnathon. He’s been the family servant for literally hundreds of years and he remains as loyal and as faithful to the Howell family and the Vaedian Kingdom as they come.

“What are you writing about?” Johnston asks, “Practicing your writing skills for when you have to make ceremonial statements?”

Dan shakes his head and takes another sip, “I just write.”

“Stories?”

“Sort of,” Dan replies.

He finishes the last of the drink from the glass and sets it back down. Johnathon picks up the glass out of habit. Dan goes back to his school work, finishing up his copying of the 15 Moral Obligations of Vaedian. He only has one through 4 memorized, and he knows his teacher is going to be after him about it today. He’s trying to memorize as many as he can but the problem is that they are so pointless and boring that Dan really can’t find the will to actually give a damn about any of them.

But if he told this to his teacher, or to his father, he would be immediately cast as being traitorous to the kingdom by being the heir and not adhering to the basic standards.

They’ve been around for millennia and Dan frankly just feels like they’re outdated. Maybe when he’s king he can rewrite some of them. But he doesn’t even know if that’s allowed. Somehow he feels like that is even more frowned upon.

“Your brow is furrowed,” Johnathon says suddenly, pointing to the space between Dan’s eyebrows. “Keep doing that and you’ll no longer be a young prince, but you’ll look older than your father.”

Dan lets out a laugh and Johnathon smiles back before turning on his heels and heading out of the living chamber towards the kitchen.

Speaking of his father, Dan knows he has a meeting with him soon about the party where he’ll be meeting his potential wife. But he really is dreading the entire thing, if he’s being honest. He doesn’t want to go through with any that, and for a multitude of reasonings...all of which are frowned upon.

The clock on the mantel suddenly chimes that it’s one and Dan gathers his belongings and stuffs them into his bag before flinging it over his shoulder. He makes his way to the library where his studies will begin soon and he tries to ignore that heaviness in his feet.

Dan has his meeting with his father following his school time, but he wasn’t entirely shocked by that. He knew it was coming when Johnathon found him in the library and told him he needed to report to his father's office as soon as he was done.

It’s even less shocking that when Dan gets there, his father immediately presents him with a series of photos of the various daughters from the neighboring kingdoms and begins to talk to Dan about how he needs to decide on what one he wants to pursue.

Naturally, none of the girls appealed to Dan. But yet again, none of them were going to anyway when he had a natural inclination to prefer men instead. But somehow, he still found himself being bound by the outdated rules of the kingdom and he pointed to the picture of a brunette girl who’s name was written as “Julianna” underneath. His father seemed to like that choice and waved him off as being able to leave now.

So Dan did, back to the clearing where he always went.

He double checked before he left that his notebook was still in his bag and he grabbed a few extra pens as the ink in the one from the night before seemed to be dulling. He intended to spend as long as possible out in his clearing without any disturbance from any of his obligations.

As he passed by the last set of trees and started to walk into the clearing, he immediately stopped in his tracks at the sight of another person that already had beat him there.

His first reaction was to get angry, because this was his secret spot and how dare a person find it without Dan’s permission. He wanted this spot all to himself with no one else here.

But as the future heir, he knew deep down that he couldn’t act that way. And instead when the male looked up, Dan just met his eyes as a look of shock overcame them both.

“I’m sorry,” Dan begins, “but how did you find this place?”

The male set down his notebook in front of him and Dan looked down long enough to notice it was a drawing of a flower. The male was here to draw just like Dan was here to write.

“I just went wandering in the forest and I happened to see this clearing,” The male says. “I didn’t intend for anyone to know about this.”

“Are you drawing?”

The male picks up his notebook, almost like he’s self-conscious about Dan calling him out, and nods, “I don’t have a space to draw without being distracted and being here has been working wonders to ease my block.”

“So you don’t mind that I join you as you draw?” Dan asks.

The male shakes his head, “No, not at all.”

Dan walks into the space and sits down on the opposite side from the man. He takes out his notebook and flips open the pages to where he left off. He fishes in his bag for a pen and pulls it out, uncapping it with his teeth. When he gets ready to write, the voice from the other side interrupts him, “Can I get your name?”

If Dan had a beating heart, he was sure it would suddenly begin to beat fast. But because he doesn't, he was instead subjected to just an overwhelming feeling of anxiety as he thought about the idea of this man knowing who he might be.

It was common for the commoners around them in their kingdom to know the royal family, and to know their names. But it was uncommon for them to know what the royal family looked like. The only time the royal family opened the castle walls was for the lavish parties and the crowning ceremonies.

By the time those events happen, most people don’t even remember what they looked like because they’ve changed. In reality, the royal family is immortal, but their aging is a different story.

“My name is Daniel,” he finally says.

“I’m Philip,” the man introduces himself, “but I prefer to be called Phil.”

Dan smiles. “Then you can call me Dan.”

Phil smiles back at him and Dan feels something that’s akin to a blush.

They mostly sit in silence, both of them working on their own art before Phil yawns and stands up and announces he should head back home. When Dan goes to say goodbye, Phil makes the sudden announcement that they should walk home together to the village.

Dan doesn’t want to tell Phil about him just yet, and so he quickly says he’s going to stay for awhile and they can walk back together another time. At the mention of another time, Phil smiles and asks, “So you’re going to be here again?”

Dan just nods and says, “I come here every night.”

Dan eventually does make his way back, and it’s even later tonight than it was the night before. When he passes through the castle gates and makes his way inside, he’s greeted by Johnathon who gives him another glass of that delicious red liquid. He takes it with him to his bed chambers and sips it through the night.

Dan technically doesn’t need to sleep. He doesn’t feel tired, he just feels lethargic if he’s used too much of his energy. So after he finishes his glass, and sets it in the hallway for Johnathon to grab when he makes his midnight rounds, Dan just lays in bed and closes his eyes.

Sometimes that’s all he needs to feel anything until the sun comes through his curtains and he has to retreat to the living chamber where he works on his studies until his schooling time comes.

***

His mum stops him the next morning after Dan gets up from his bed. She tells him that they have to talk about his party and Dan reluctantly agrees to follow her to her office where she has plans laid out about every detail.

“We’ll bring in the finest pastry chefs to the kingdom for you,” she begins. “All of the cakes that you can think of will be there.”

“How many people are coming?” Dan asks.

“Well, we’re not opening the grand hall up for nothing, my dear Daniel,” she scolds. “So your father sent special invites to all of the kingdoms around us, with a select few going to some families in the village.”

“We’re allowing villagers to the party?” Dan asks, because he’s truly astounded by this fact.

“Of course!” his mother says. “Commoners are always invited to the parties where the heir finds his wife. It’s a status symbol that you should have learnt about in your lessons. Do I need to have a word with Lady Mallory about your studies?”

Dan shakes his head and immediately refuses the proposition, “No, there is no need.”

His mum gives him a stern look and goes back to discussing the plans.

Dan has to admit that parties in the grand hall are few and far between. He actually only believes that his family has only ever had one party there in his lifetime. Other than that, it remains closed to everyone, including them.

By the end of the meeting, Dan’s proper exhausted and even though he has to go to his studies, he would rather retreat to his bedchamber where he can sit and wait for the sun to go down so he can head to the clearing and meet up with Phil again.

Dan doesn’t even know why his mind immediately goes to meeting up with Phil. He’s only met the guy once and even if they did seem to get on rather quickly, there shouldn’t be a reason for Dan wanting to be with him so quickly again.

But yet, he finds his mind wandering to Phil and his raven locks and blue eyes instead. Lady Mallory calls him out on his distractedness but Dan brushes it off as just being a rough day, not because he was daydreaming about another man.

When the lessons are over, Dan doesn't immediately leave to go to the clearing. He goes to the kitchen first and grabs a snack to hold him over. Johnathon hands him a blood cake when he gets there, and Dan immediately partakes in eating it despite the bitter taste it leaves on his tongue.

The blood is getting old now, a bit stale. Dan can tell right away. The taste is nowhere near that fresh copper taste that he loves so much. The grimace that he gives off is enough for Johnathon to speak up, “They’re going on a fresh hunt tonight, my lord. You’ll have new nutrients tomorrow.”

Dan just nods and finishes the rest of his cake before asking for a glass as well and gulping it down.

The sun is way past set when he makes his way to the clearing with his bag slung across his body. He’s half expecting for Phil to not be there, because for mortals, this is late at night. For Dan, it’s really just a beginning for him.

But he still feels a spark of happiness when he moves into the clearing and sees Phil sat in the same position he was in the night before. He’s concentrating hard in his sketchbook, busy working on another piece that Dan is actually a bit curious to see.

Phil looks up and greets him before he can sit down. When Dan finally does settle down, he chooses a spot beside Phil because he’s feeling a bit better about having him here with Dan in the clearing. In a way, it’s making everything feel less lonely even though Dan used to come here for the sole fact that he wanted to be alone, away from everything.

“Dan,” Phil says out of the blue, “have you ever been to a party at the castle?”

Dan suddenly picks his head up, nervous about actually answering the question because he’s afraid he’ll give too much away, “No, I haven’t. Why do you ask?”

“I’m from another kingdom...Vargaria, and not even supposed to be here. But my father was naturally invited to the royal party. While I’ve attended some of the royal parties my father has hosted, I don’t know what it’ll be like to attend the party at this kingdom. If my father knew I was here, he would more than likely disown me.”

Dan suddenly doesn’t like that. He doesn't like knowing Phil is going to be attending the party and seeing him pick his future wife that he doesn't even want, nor love. Furthermore, he doesn’t know how to feel at the thought of Phil admitting to him that he was from a neighboring kingdom, especially Vargaria. Dan knew firsthand that Vargaria and Vaedian have very tense relations.

Everything about this almost feels wrong, like they’re breaching a line of boundaries in their newly found acquaintanceship that shouldn’t be breached.

“What do you think it’s going to be like?” Phil suddenly adds, not letting Dan say anything in regards to his previous admission.

“I’m assuming lavish,” Dan says. “Lots of people, decorations. Fancy dresses and food.”

“Did your family get invited as well?” Phil asks.

Dan doesn’t know how to answer that. Because if he says no, that’s an obvious lie but if he says yes, then how does he handle the situation without giving anything about himself away?

“I don't think so,” he says, immediately feeling regret cloud his mind.

“Oh that’s a shame,” Phil says. “Would have been nice to at least know one person who is there. I feel like I’m going to be horribly out of place.”

“I will be too,” Dan mumbles.

Phil looks up. “What was that?”

Dan stiffens. “I said I would be too.”

Phil just nods and gives him a sympathetic look and goes back to his drawing in silence.

They don’t say much else, which Dan finds fine because the conversation took a turn anyway and he feels it might be rather awkward to continue it and also keep his identity intact.

When Dan returns back to his bed chambers that night, all he can think about is how he shouldn’t have any further contact with Phil. By rule, they’re supposed to remain civil with their relations with each other from the neighboring kingdoms but Dan still knows that this casual of a relationship is frowned upon.

Sitting at his desk and looking out of his window towards the valley and village beneath them, he sighed. Technically speaking, Phil is meant to be an enemy to him. He shouldn’t be doing this. He shouldn’t even be looking forward to meeting up with him in the clearing any further.

Nothing of this sort can happen any more. Dan’s putting a stop to it now.

But then that means that Dan will have to give up his writing spot and that thought makes him a bit sad. He can always find a new one, he supposes. But it won’t be the same.

So Dan doesn’t return to the clearing for 3 full nights. He instead remains home and sits at his desk, unbothered with the window open, and tries to write there instead. He doesn’t get nearly as far in his story as he did when he was in the clearing, but he can’t afford to go there anymore.

It’s not until a final meeting with his father finally snaps him that he decides to go back there, needing and wanting to just get away and put an ending to all of this. He doesn’t want any of this. He wants to remain unbothered. He doesn’t want a lavish party. He doesn’t want to be married. And furthermore, he doesn’t want to be king!

When he gets to the clearing, running as fast as he can, he’s met immediately by Phil, whose expression was less than welcoming. “Why did you lie to me?”

“Lie to you about what?” Dan asks.

“You’re Prince Daniel,” Phil says, “Heir to the Vaedian throne and it’s your party that I’m attending this weekend.”

Dan opens and closes his mouth a few times, “How did you find out?”

Phil turns his head, “My father has warned us about you,” he spits out. “Your kingdom is built on a throne of lies.”

“And I don’t suppose yours isn’t?” Dan snaps back.

“I made a mistake befriending you,” Phil snarls. “My father warned me of you from a young age and I feel half-dumb that I didn’t see through you in the first place.”

Dan doesn’t know what to say or how to react. He’s never been in an altercation like this before and it’s frankly extremely unnerving.

“You can’t even speak for yourself,” Phil says, crossing his arms over his chest.

“I don’t have anything to say to you,” Dan spits back. “The kingdoms of Vargaria and Vaedian have always been tense. I should have known from the first mention of your kingdom that this was nothing but trouble.”

“That’s tough speak for someone who intends to marry my sister,” Phil presses. “I was told today that you’re planning on marrying Julianna.”

Dan’s memory snaps back to the name of the kingdom on the bottom of the picture of Julianna and he suddenly feels a bit ill. He didn’t even know that’s what he’d chosen but maybe that’s why his father had seemed so pleased with himself.

“You’re not marrying her, and our kingdoms are not going to be united by the bloody hands of you.”

With that, Phil turned on his heels and walked away, leaving Dan feeling anger beyond anything that he has ever felt before.

How could he ever think that Phil was ever a decent person? Surely his first mistake was trusting a stranger anyway.

When Dan walks back to the castle that night, he feels an overwhelming sense of dread, and he finds himself resting in bed the entirety of the following day.

***

“The party is in two days, Daniel, and you’ve hardly done anything in preparation for it.”

Dan looked down at his notebook that was poised open in front of him to avoid the unwavering gaze of his mother as she hounded him about this. He didn’t want to go through this lecture again. It’s one that he’s gone through three separate times now over the past day.

“I wasn’t aware I had any preparations to do,” Dan snapped back.

His mother rolled her eyes and tossed up her hands, almost in defeat. “Well, have you ever sent a letter to Julianna of Vargaria?” She asked. “The kingdom has sent a letter on your behalf but you should have known to send the letter yourself as well.”

“I wasn’t aware of that.”

“Good Lord, Daniel! What has gotten into you?” His mother finally snapped. “We have been preparing for this day for almost 18 years and you’re about to ruin it all. I don’t understand where your attitude has gone these past few years. You’ve turned into a snub-nosed little brat!”

Dan flinched at the insult, trying to not let it get to him. So many thoughts ran through his head. Like how his parents lied to him for so many years. How they never actually cared about him, just about their kingdom and its reputation. About how they hid who he really was until he was old enough to realize that he’s been born into a kingdom of vampires amongst humans.

Finally, with the tip of his tongue clicking against the back of his teeth, he spits out, “I don’t want to marry and I don’t want the throne.”

He slams his notebook shut and gets up to leave when the feeling of her hand on his wrist in a tight grip stops him. He whips his head back, staring at her aggravated expression.

“You’re not leaving right now,” she says.

“I have nothing more to say right now,” Dan says back, trying to remain calm but his demeanor failing quickly.

She lets him go and he quickly rushes out of her office, ignoring how deafening the silence from her was to his ears when he heard no more cries of protest leave her.

His eyes gathered with tears and he fought to keep them back as he desperately wished more than ever that he was never born into this life. He should have never been born as a royal and he should have never been born immortal. He would have much rather loved to have been a commoner who receives one life and then gets spared the rest of eternity.

Before he knows it, he’s ran back to his secret clearing. Dan stood there, his chest heaving and his eyes watering heavier as he lost his battle and unleashed the sobs that wracked his frame.

“Oh what does the prince of bloodsuckers have to cry about today?”

Dan picks up his head and sees Phil sitting there, drawing away in his sketchbook again. Dan honestly wishes he would have never encountered him again but it’s clear that luck did not work in his way.

“Don’t you have somewhere else to go?” Dan asks. “Somewhere maybe in your own kingdom?”

Phil just shrugs and looks back down at his sketchbook, “It’s easier to be here than it is to be back home.”

Dan sits down on the grass and wipes away the wetness from his cheeks. He should be embarrassed crying this much over something as stupid as the mention of the rest of his life. He should feel embarrassed for the fact that he was crying in front Phil after what had just happened between them.

But another part of him just doesn’t care anymore. He doesn’t care about any of this. He wants everything to just cease around him and end but it’s never that simple. It’ll never be that simple as long as Dan is immortal and the world around them still passes like normal.

“Why were you so nice to me when we first met?” Dan finds himself asking.

Phil shrugs again and doesn’t speak.

“What made you change when you found out who I was?”

The curiosity was getting to Dan, not just because this was Phil, but because his mother's words were still eating away at his core but he also felt like maybe it was a bit rebellious to speak to the kingdom he’s supposed to be marrying someone from.

Phil looks up and Dan sees his expression quickly change from hardened to confusion. He blinks a few times and then finally speaks, “Does it really matter?”

Dan wipes the remaining wetness from his cheeks and shrugs because no, it really doesn’t. But that doesn’t mean he doesn’t want to know. He does want to know why in a way.

“So what are you drawing today?” Dan asks.

Phil turns the sketchbook around and shows him an array of flowers and trees. It’s actually really beautiful. But Dan doesn’t want to stroke his ego and tell him so after their outbursts.

They sit in silence for a while, and eventually Phil leaves without saying a word. Dan supposes that wasn’t all that painful. In a way, he did see Phil as a sort of new friend when everything was just beginning with them. So for him to be seen that way again in a new light wasn’t all that bad.

His stomach is rumbling by the time he finally gets up to make his way back home. He’s feeling a bit lethargic, and his skin a bit inflamed. And it’s only when he’s back in the castle and he falls to his knees while Johnathon grabs him, that he realizes he was just in the sun for a little bit with nothing to eat.

In that respect, he almost got his wish that everything would just end.

***

It’s the morning of the party and Dan wants nothing more than to leave and run away. He doesn’t want to make an appearance in front of everyone while he meets Julianna for the first time. He still only has a vague knowledge of what she looks like, just based on the photo that he was presented with for her.

And what’s worse is that all he could see was Phil in her features.

Dan wishes that he could forget about Phil. He knows that he needs to, but yet he can’t stop thinking about his special spot and seeing Phil there every time that he’s gone for the last few trips.

They got along so well when they first met, and Dan really does deep down want to be friends with Phil. He’s not even sure why his heart is telling him that it’s the right thing to do but yet, he does feel deep down that it is.

He’s confused.

Dan’s known for as long as he’s been able to freely think that he wasn’t attracted to women. He much preferred men. It’s something that he’s had to keep a secret, but he did tell Johnathon in pure confidence when the overwhelming urge of shame for his kingdom overtook him one night when he was told about the marriage.

Now that he was actually being forced to marry for the good of the kingdom, his memories of the days where he used to dread this are now here. He’s stood in front of his wardrobe, with his ceremonial garb hung in front of him. Tears are gathering in the corner of his eyes and he’s realizing now that he can’t back out from this.

A knock on his bedroom door shakes him out of his head and he wipes away the tears with the back of his head as he yells an airy, “it’s open” towards the door.

His door slowly opens and Johnathon walks in, a glass on a tray balanced on his hand, “You were looking a bit peckish earlier, Daniel. So I brought you a fresh drink to hopefully give you some more life.”

Dan lets out a small laugh as he walks towards him and takes the glass in his hand, indulging in the coppery taste on his lips. Nothing will ever be better than fresh blood, but it’s unfortunate in the fact that it’s in high demand: it’s not all that plentiful.

“Where did this come from?”

“A freshly hunted deer from just a few hours past.”

Dan nods and finishes the rest of the drink in one gulp. He hands Johnathon back the glass and wipes the excess liquid off from his lips with his hand.

“Are you ready for this evening?” Johnathon asks him, the question seemingly out of the blue.

Dan shakes his head, “I don’t think all the years in the world would ever make me prepared for this evening.”

“It’s not your royal marriage ceremony, you know,” Johnathan says in sympathy. “It’s just meeting a potential wife. You can still turn her down if you feel like she is not fit for you. There will be plenty of other suitors who will love to…”

“Johnathan, you know that I don’t want to marry a woman,” Dan says.

“But I’m afraid you have no choice.”

“I’m aware,” Dan answers back, his words catching in his throat, “but I’m afraid that I think I have many fallen in love with someone else.”

“And who might this person be?” Johnathan asks.

“A man.”

***

The party is in full swing. Everyone is in extravagant gowns and Dan, looking down at the guests from the balcony of the dining hall, can see how fancy everyone looks. Dan casts his glance around the perimeter, seeing if he can spot who he’s looking for. And sure enough, stood with a drink in his hand was none other than Phil, laughing with what appeared to be his sister, Julianna.

Dan’s due to make his way down the grand staircase in just a few moments. During this time, he’ll be expected to walk down the stairs, stop at the end, and extend his hand out to Lady Julianna. He’ll talk her hand, they’ll walk to the middle of the dining room, where the guests are mingling, and will perform their first dance together. If Dan likes what he sees and what he’s been presented with, he can then announce at the end he has chosen to marry her.

But Dan already knows he’s going to turn her down.

Dan’s not sure when he fully came to the conclusion that he, deep down, was actually falling for Phil. Maybe it came when he realized he couldn’t stop thinking about him. Or when he couldn’t stop thinking about how well they got along before they realized who each other were.

Or maybe it’s a deep seated need inside of Dan’s core to just say fuck the system and to do what he wants to. Which is not only marry a man but also marry someone he shouldn’t even be marrying.

In some convoluted way, he’s halfway there if he marries Julianna.

Just then, the music slowly starts and Dan feels an ache in his chest that surely would be his heart thumping if it actually beat. He squeezes his fingers in his palms and slowly moves into the view of the bottom of the staircase where everyone is gathered around, staring up at him. He hates the attention. More than anything else, he just wants to hide and be away from everyone's center of sight.

His mother and father are stood at the foot of the stairs with Julianna standing in between them and everyone else standing behind. Julianna looks beautiful, Dan can’t even disprove that. Her features are stunning and her dark hair is cascading so nicely over the shoulders of her dress. Dan almost feels bad knowing he’s not going to actually marry her.

He descends the stairway and makes it to the bottom where he takes Julianna’s outstretched hand and leads her to the center of the ballroom. They make eye contact and Dan sees her beautiful blue eyes staring back at him with intent, a smile on her lips.

When he looks at her, all he can imagine is Phil...and he feels a bit sick.

Dan loses eye contact with her halfway through their dance. But that could also be because he keeps stepping on her toes and he knows that she’s flinching and giving him some looks but really, he can’t be assed to change the way he’s stepping. He doesn’t want to be here so why would he focus on doing a perfect first dance?

The music stops and he bows and she curtsies back. They turn to the crowd and bow again as everyone applauds. He turns back to her and gives her a quick smile before separating from her and rushing away.

He’s only just arrived to the party and he already can’t stand to be there for any longer. He wants out. He wants to leave, to not be there anymore. He grabs at the collar of his top and rips open the buttons, letting the fabric fall open, exposing his neck to the cool night air.

Dan’s running out of the kingdom now, and he’s not looking back. He’s never used his fast speed before for anything other than some gimmicks when he was a kid, but now he’s running as fast as he can to the clearing. When he gets there, he stops short and collapses to the forest floor, tears running down his face.

He’ll have to leave his kingdom now. He can’t go back there. He’s made a fool out of everyone...including himself. What was he thinking running away like that?

Oh right...because Dan can’t marry Julianna when he’s in love with her brother. Like the pathetic person he is, he’s going to spend the rest of his immortal days pining over a guy who hates him and who Dan should hate back but can’t.

He furiously rubs away the tears from his eyes and takes a shuddering breath as he tries to calm himself down. He can survive in the forest, Dan supposes. He’s never had to hunt for his subsistence before but he can surely do it. He’s just gotta catch a deer or two, right?

God, he’s never gonna be able to make it. He should have never ran away.

“What a performance.”

Dan looked up and followed where the voice was coming from. Phil was stood next to a tree, his arms folded over his chest. Dan didn’t really want to face him right now. He just wanted to be as far away from any of Phil’s family and kingdom as he could be after humiliating himself with Julianna.

“If it makes you feel any better, Julianna didn’t like you either,” Phil says with a chuckle.

“How bad is it?” Dan asks, the words catching in his throat.

“Everyone is a bit chaotic but I left in the midst of it all,” Phil says, walking forward and then taking a seat next to Dan.

“I figured.”

“I don’t blame you,” Phil says. “My family is wanting me to marry someone as well but I can’t find the reason to want to.”

“Yeah…” Dan says, “I just do not fancy…”

Dan stops himself and looks at Phil who is studying him with wide eyes.

“You’re attracted to men?” Phil says, as if it’s the most obvious thing in the world.

Dan hides his face and then picks it back up and nods slowly.

“I am too,” Phil says softly.

They sit in silence, and Dan feels like he can cut the tension with a knife. He’s never been in a situation or a conversation like this before. It was a bit daunting and a bit terrifying all at the same time. He didn’t know what to think or how to react.

“When I first met you, I was really happy to find someone that was like me,” Phil says. “In my Kingdom, I was the outcast. I never fit into what anyone else was doing. That’s why I came here to draw. Being here was like an escape from that and when we started meeting up, I genuinely felt like I was meeting someone just like me.”

Dan felt the same way. He could never put into words how he felt about meeting Phil but this was exactly it. Meeting Phil felt the same way for him. Maybe that’s why he took a liking to Phil so quickly?

“I felt the same way,” Dan says. “I really liked being able to just sit here with you.”

Suddenly, a hand is coming up and touching Dan’s cool skin. His chin is being tilted to the side and Dan follows the lead as he comes face to face with Phil. Phil leans in and presses their lips together in a burning kiss. Phil’s lips felt so warm in comparison to his.

When Phil pulls back, Dan stares at him, not sure what to do. Phil just laughs, “Your lips are cold.”

Dan just laughs and shakes his head, “Comes with the whole...package.”

They sit in the clearing for a while longer until Dan can hear his name being called by Jonathan and he figures he needs to actually go back and face whatever consequences are bearing his name. He makes his way back to the castle but not before sharing another quick kiss with Phil and then saying goodbye as they both leave.

At the castle, Dan is yelled at and cursed at and then banished to his sleeping chamber which he knew was going to happen anyway. When he gets to his room, he strips down and dresses into his nightgowns and slips into the seat at his desk. He opens up his notebook that he’s been writing in and he writes down the words:

I love Phil from Vargaria

[catflowerqueen]

Oh, look, a Christmas upd8!

-John looks extremely young in this upd8. I can’t tell if it’s the clothes, or just the general art style.

-…Okay, yeah, that’s… extremely sadly like John, to kind of just ignore the bad things happening in favor of something else. I mean… it isn’t that bad a coping mechanism if he’s just putting it off for the moment so he can take some time to process, but it’s also very clear he’s still upset about what just happened. Hopefully that really is Roxy on the other end of the phone.

-That picture of Harry Anderson in the onesie on Roxy’s wall is adorable. At least, I’m assuming that’s him, based on the one next to it where Roxy is clearly pressing foreheads with a baby, who is most likely Harry Anderson. The onesie picture dos look a little blobby, though. Also, I love that cat lamp.

-…John, that’s not really a mug Roxy is holding.

-I don’t know, John, based on Roxy’s body language, and the fact that she led you straight to her room, I think it was a fair assumption to think that she was flirting with you.

-Hm. You know, it just occurs to me that not only did John’s stuff get destroyed in the fire, but also Jake and Tavros’ stuff, since they were living there with him. I mean… presumably they still have a bunch of stuff over at Jane’s place (especially since she didn’t even notice they were gone, apparently, until she saw her son on the news) but still. I’m not entirely sure what to think of that…

-Those cat pillows are also adorable. They remind me of the Peeps pillows you see a lot around Easter. …I want them.

-Oh, so that’s where Callie has been this whole time! I love that outfit. Neat. Also, yeah, it makes total sense that Roxy would have a secret lab.

-That better not be the Hiveswap portal under that sheet. I am going to be so freaking mad if the Hiveswap portal is under there.

-Eh, I mean… those transportalizers can hook up pretty much anywhere. Even in and out of the Medium, considering that Jane got to Prospit/Derse from Jake’s house. So, really, you could be back in the Game for all we know.

-Oh, wait, does this version of Callie still identify as female? …I guess so? Callie used them in the past-tense story, but then didn’t really reference it again one way or the other, so…

-Hm… Actually… considering the wind thing, I wonder if John has sort form of Claustrophobia? It would make sense that he would be uncomfortable underground… Unless Callie is just more referring to the whole secrecy aspect of things?

-Well, their being in a black hole would certainly explain why they got that ghost infestation, considering the whole “white hole/black hole” connection.

-Though, on the note of the Green Sun… loathe as I am to bring Pesterquest into this, but I do have to wonder what the Green Sun’s destruction means for the fact that Reader became the First Guardian there. Since it’s not the Alpha Timeline, is it still there? Because the fact that its destruction even impacted the ghosts in the dreambubbles at all would seem to imply that it still has some dominion over doomed timelines. …Perhaps that just lends to my theory that there is more than one Green Sun in existence, it’s just that they govern different sessions—ones that would be far less interconnected than the trolls’ and kids’ were, or at least ones which would have been connected in different ways.

-So if, as Callie puts it, nothing in their world really “matters,” then this does make things interesting as far as what could be considered “canon” for this story. I guess that’s why the epilogues themselves were labelled as “Dubiously Canon” (or something like that). And it kind of makes me feel better about certain characterizations I hold, especially from my understanding of Homestuck proper, and the way I’ve planned out certain character arcs for the Homestuck fic I hope to one day write.

-Sigh… Again with making a big deal about Vriska. Like… I do like her as a character and all, and I don’t really hate her, but… well, it’s stuff like this that make it abundantly clear she’s the golden child, creator’s pet of the stories. I guess that does make sense with her classpect, especially considering some meta about her I saw recently, but… it can get a little disheartening at points when it all comes down to her, and how important she is, considering that Homestuck was always more an ensemble cast situation. …Unless maybe they’re talking about the Earth C Vriska? Not that it necessarily makes that any better, mind you. …At least Callie is acknowledging how much sway Vriska seems to hold, I guess… and she’s always been way more chipper about stuff that others would find at least mildly concerning, so… yeah.

-…They better not have just sent this John off to die like the one from the Meat timeline. Like—it was never explicitly said in those terms that Meat!John was going to die, but it was pretty clear from that Rose’s demeanor that he wasn’t coming back.

-And, again, I reiterate—As neat as it would be to see Joey, Jude, or Xefros… I do NOT want the Hiveswap portal to be the thing behind that curtain!

[slippinmickeys]

The Concept of Dualism

I wrote this for the XF 2020 Fluff Fic Exchange. My prompt was from my heart and soul, @admiralty-xfd​, which was: “Anything involving MSR and Melissa Scully. Keep it UST-y please! Late S2″

Melissa Scully had studied Chinese cosmology--the duality of yin and yang, how seemingly opposite or contrary forces are complementary, interconnected and interdependent in the natural world. She had never seen two people who exemplified the concept more. The skeptic, the believer; the redhead and the brunet. She had seen them embrace once, and they seemed to even physically personify yin and yang; her head tucked under his chin, interlocked and perfect.

How they were so blind to the match would be funny if it weren’t so frustrating.

From everything she knew and had read, someone’s soulmate could not also be their twin flame, but every time she looked at them, she wondered.

XxXxXxXxXxX

There was a familiar scent in the air, an earthy musk underlying the chemical, industrial smell of the hospital. Scully cracked her eyes and turned her head to see the familiar auburn curls of the back of her sister’s head standing by the bed next to her. Mulder’s bed.

“You here to break me out?” her voice was still rough from their ordeal in the Norwegian sea.

Melissa turned toward her, smiling.

“Wouldn’t be my first time sneaking someone off a Naval base,” she said.

Scully returned her smile. She knew of at least three boyfriends who Melissa had managed to both sneak onto and off of a Naval base in their teen years.

“You should have been a spy,” Scully said.

“The MPs only care if everyone has a seatbelt,” Missy said, moving over to Scully’s bed as she sat up, “a little bit of light flirting and they don’t bother checking the trunk.” Melissa nodded her head toward Mulder. “He being released today, too?”

Scully glanced over at her partner, who was asleep. He’d only regained consciousness the day before.

“No,” she said, her voice softening, “he was a lot worse off.”

Melissa gave her an assessing look.

“You thought you were dying. You thought you were both gone.”

Scully took a breath, nodded.

“Did you tell him?” Melissa asked her.

Confused, Scully looked up at her sister.

“Tell him what?” she asked.

Melissa ran her tongue along the inside of her cheek then shook her head.

“You guys are hopeless.”

XxXxXxXxXxX

Her bones felt creaky. She’d been so thankful that she’d been able to use a wheelchair all the way to Missy’s car at the hospital, and now that she was home, she needed to lean on her sister just to get down the hallway and to her front door.

Missy unlocked it and helped her through the apartment and into bed.

Once her sister had pulled the covers up and over her, she sat on the bed next to her and said “I’m going to stay with you for a few days. Until you’re back on your feet.”

Scully didn’t bother arguing with her. She didn’t have the energy.

XxXxXxXxXxX

Three days into her convalescence, she had just awoken from a nap on the couch when her sister handed her the phone.

“It’s for you,” Missy said, her eyebrows up.

“Hello?” she answered. Melissa sat on the other end of the couch and didn’t even pretend not to be interested in the call.

“Scully, it’s me.”

She was so relieved to hear his voice, she forgot to police her features and she looked up to see Melissa watching her closely, with a small smirk on her face. Mulder said something she didn’t hear.

“I’m sorry, what?”

“I’m getting sprung,” he said.

“Already?” she asked; she was barely on her own feet. “I want to talk to your doctor.”

“Not on your life,” he said. “They moved a surly ensign into the bed you were in and he’s not nearly as nice to look at.”

Scully blushed, and Melissa quirked an eyebrow. Scully wanted to disappear into the cushions like loose change.

“Do you have someone to pick you up?” she asked, “someone to stay with you?”

“I’ll be alright,” he said, and she could practically see him morosely plucking at the blanket in his hospital bed.

“No you won’t,” she said, trying not to get indignant, “Mulder, I still barely have the energy to get from the bedroom to the kitchen, and I wasn’t nearly as sick as you were.”

Mulder was silent. She tried to think of any close friends Mulder could call on to help him out and could only picture the Gunmen.

“Do you want me to call your mother?” she hedged.

“Not if you ever want me to talk to you again,” he said, “don’t worry about me, Scully, I’ll get a cab home. All the food delivery guys know me. I’ll get by.”

“Mulder…” she said, when Melissa held her hand out for the phone. Scully handed it over.

“Dana and I are going to come pick you up,” she said, “what time are you being released?”

Scully could hear a dull mumbling from the receiver.

“It’s fine, she could use the fresh air. We’ll see you then.”

Scully leaned back on the couch.

“Thanks, Missy,” she said, “if you can help him get settled into his apartment, I’m sure I can find somebody to-”

Melissa cut her off.

“Oh, I’m not taking him to his apartment,” Missy said, matter-of-factly, “I’m bringing him here.”

XxXxXxXxXxX

“Missy, you have to get back to work.”

They were more than halfway to the base, and Scully’s arguments against her sister’s plan of nursing them both back to health in Scully’s apartment were getting weaker and more grasping.

“You know I don’t, Dana,” she said, “and anyway, he doesn’t have anywhere else to go.”

Scully couldn’t argue with that. Melissa turned onto the exit for the base.

“Where is he going to sleep?” Scully asked.

Melissa sniffed a small laugh, then said, “the couch.”

“Then where are you going to sleep?”

“Trim those toenails, little sister, I’m bunking with you.”

When they were kids, Scully and Melissa had been forced to share a bed on family vacations; Melissa always complained that Scully kicked her in the middle of the night and dug her toenails into Missy’s shins.

Scully couldn’t help but glance down to consider her pedicure. Melissa saw her look and stuck out her tongue at her. Some things in life had changed. Some things hadn't.

When they pulled up to the entrance, Mulder was waiting in a wheelchair, a bored-looking orderly standing behind him. Scully connected eyes with him as she got out of the shotgun seat, and he flashed her a self-conscious smile. She had to prop a hand up onto the top of the car before she opened the door and slid into the backseat.

It took Mulder two tries to stand from the wheelchair, and then the orderly and Melissa both had to swoop in on either side to help him into the car. Once they had his door closed, he leaned his head back against the headrest and turned so he could talk to Scully.

“I look better than I feel,” he said, as Melissa slid into the driver’s seat and started up the car.

“Well you look like hell,” said Scully goodnaturedly, and Mulder licked his finger and made a check-mark in the air.

They rode the rest of the way back to Scully’s in silence.

XxXxXxXxXxX

They’d barely gotten Mulder into Dana’s apartment before he passed out on the couch, his feet hanging off of the side, his shoes still on.

“Jesus, Dana,” Melissa said, pulling a blanket off the back of the couch and draping it over him, “what happened to you guys out there?”

Her sister didn’t say anything, just smiled a sad smile at her and sunk into one of the chairs at her dining room table.

Melissa came up to her and grabbed her hand, asked her if she wanted any tea--Dana looked pale from the day’s excursion and smiled at her gratefully.

There was a blend she’d gotten from her herbalist just for her sister, which Dana turned down in lieu of a cup of Earl Grey, but she set aside a cup for Mulder, who was making snuffly sleep-noises on the couch. She watched Dana stealing surreptitious glances in his direction as she sipped the mug in front of her.

“Have you slept with him yet?” she asked, point-blank. Sometimes all her sister needed was a bit of a verbal slap to confront realities she wasn’t ready to face.

“What? Jesus, Missy.”

Melissa had confronted Mulder in his own apartment when they both thought Dana was dying--she’d called him out, told him he needed to tell Dana how he felt so that she--and he-- would both at least know before she was gone. Bless the man--he’d been in a very dark place, but he’d gone to Dana’s bedside and he’d stayed there. How they both still seemed to operate as though they weren’t absolutely in love with each other was beyond her comprehension. Truth be told, it pissed her off.

She rose and lifted her sister’s empty cup and walked it to the sink.

“You should fuck,” she said over her shoulder. She could feel her sister’s glare through the back of her head.

When she turned around, Dana was still scowling at her. She held up her arms in surrender.

“I’m done,” she said, all innocence, then, under her breath, “but you should.”

Dana ignored her.

“You should rest too,” she finally said, when she felt the tension in the room ease a bit. Dana nodded. “Do you have a key to his apartment? I can go pick up some clothes, grab his toothbrush.”

“In my desk,” Dana said, nodding toward the secretary desk in the corner.

Melissa found it quickly, the key having been labeled with the meticulous care her sister seemed to pay to all things but her own heart.

Dana had shuffled halfway down the hallway to her own room when she called to Melissa over her shoulder. Melissa paused in the doorway.

“Feed his fish?” Dana asked, her voice sounding husky and weak.

“Of course,” she said, then, “Back in a bit.”

She drove over the river to Alexandria.

XxXxXxXxXxX

His apartment was nearly as dark as it had been the only other time she’d been there, this time without the oppressive feel of the anger and resentment that had rolled off its resident in waves. Dull light crept in from yellow streetlights outside the lone window above the desk, supplemented by a dim, buzzing glow from the aquarium. It smelled like leather and dust.

She tipped in probably more fish food than was necessary, but she wasn’t sure how long Mulder had been gone, and wasn’t entirely sure when he’d be back. Both he and Dana were the worse for wear. The fish went at the food with ichthylogistic zeal, darting to the surface like scaled torpedos. She’d once read that people who kept fish tended to be the happiest and most optimistic of all pet owners, but something about that didn’t ring true--at least not here in Mulder’s space.

Once she’d found a lamp and switched it on, she took her time looking about, her knowledge about her sister’s partner leaving vast swathes of empty story she hoped to fill.

There were next to no family pictures up with the exception of one framed photo of his missing sister that sat on his desk. Everything else seemed fuscous and impersonal. The space was somehow both Spartan and cluttered and left her feeling a vague sadness. She half-wished she’d brought sage to smudge the place.

When her sister had told her of her new partner named Fox with alternative and “out there” theories and beliefs, she thought when she finally met the man that she would find a kindred spirit. Instead, she stood next to Dana’s comatose body and met a man that seemed more lost than anything else, spiritually rudderless and no more in tune with the collective unconscious than your average grocery store cucumber.

Missy shook her head and went off in search of clothes and a Dopp kit.

XxXxXxXxXxX

Mulder was sitting up, rubbing sleep from his eyes when she walked back in.

She dropped the bag next to the couch.

“Some things for you,” she said.

He looked around, like he wasn’t sure where exactly he was.

“Thanks,” he said.

“Can I get you anything?” she asked him, looking at him curiously, assessingly. She wondered how many times he’d been in her sister’s apartment.

“I could use a trip to the WC,” he said sheepishly.

“How much help with that do you need?” she tried to keep the anxious distaste out of her voice, but he picked up on it anyway.

“Just a hand up,” he said. She pulled him slowly to his feet and then had to walk with him to the bathroom door.

“I got it from here,” he said weakly. She didn’t shut the door all the way, just in case.

While he was occupied, she poked a head into Dana’s room and found her asleep on top of the covers, her hand curled under her chin. She looked fifteen. Melissa bussed an empty water glass from her bedside table, and by the time she made it back into the hallway, she heard the water running in the bathroom, and waited at a courteous distance from the door until Mulder shuffled out of it.

He took one look at her and gave her an acquiescing look, if not a bit pained for having to do so. She helped him back to the couch.

“You hungry?” she asked him once she had him settled.

“Just water,” he said. He pronounced the word like ‘wooder.’

She brought him a glass. He nodded his thanks and took a deep draught. He gave the liquid in the glass a long look before setting it on the coffee table. He fell back against the couch, once again exhausted.

XxXxXxXxXxX

Melissa Scully was an odd duck, of that he had no doubt, but she did love her sister fiercely, and that accounted for a lot. However, given his druthers, she would not be the first person he would pick to nurse him back to health after living 50 years in three days, though she had a certain Scully charm.

He figured he’d be lucky to get through the next few days without a sage garland around his head and a crystal up his ass.

The goal was to convince the Scully sisters he was fine enough on his own, which was going to be something of a tall order as he could barely walk to the toilet without feeling like he was going to keel over.

They made small talk for a few minutes before he heard Scully emerge from her bedroom, shuffling down the hallway slowly, though at least under her own power. Her hair was a bit of a mess and she had a pillow crease in her cheek.

He was still surprised that no matter what state she was in, she looked like Christmas morning.

Scully gave him a tired smile and slowly slid into a dining room chair.

“Has your sister ever mixed you a drink?” he asked Melissa, apropos of nothing.

“No, but I’ve seen her open a bottle of wine with her shoe,” Melissa said. Intrigued, Mulder cut his eyes to Scully, who smiled enigmatically.

He adjusted the pillow under his head.

“If she ever offers, I’d advise emptying your pantry of canned fish first.”

Scully laughed, and he smiled, heartened.

“Inside jokes are my favorite,” Melissa said, sarcastically, “more please.”

“You’re no fun,” Mulder said.

“Says the guy who needs help standing up,” said Melissa, not unkindly.

“Stop flirting, the both of you,” said Scully from the kitchen. She looked to Melissa and gave her a look Mulder couldn’t quite read, “Make him drink some Gatorade, would you? He needs the electrolytes.”

Mulder looked at her, his eyes intense, but she would not meet them. She was the only woman he cared to flirt with. Then Melissa handed him a big orange bottle over the back of the couch and blocked his view.

XxXxXxXxXxX

The lines in his face were plumping out, making him look more like himself. Before long he’d be back on his feet, out of her house and entirely too attractive for his own good.

Mulder had a tendency to complicate any situation he was in and his constant presence here in her own space threw her off balance.

She’d once overheard another agent in the bullpen comment that she was “Spooky’s Sidekick,” which surprised her as Mulder had always treated her like an equal. If he was the towering Garfunkel, she was the slighter Simon, and no matter their difference in stature, the work they produced was harmonious.

She remembered pointing a gun at him out on the Icy Cape, the way his oatmeal heather henley was damp with his sharp smelling fear-sweat. How he reached out and grabbed her from behind, then held up a calming hand. He was forever saving her, and she him.

After Arecibo, she could see him giving in to a life of paranoia and madness, holed up in a room of floor-to-ceiling phone books, cell phone in a potato chip bag. She suspected that she may be his lone tether to sanity, the string to the balloon that only wants to float away.

Melissa was heating up soup for dinner, so Scully walked to the couch and helped Mulder to the dining table, and they both watched her sister with jealous eyes as she drifted about Scully’s kitchen with the easy energy of robust health.

Dinner was a quiet affair. No one talked much, and Melissa was watching the two of them with such interest that Dana wanted to kick her under the table.

After Melissa cleaned up the dishes and wiped down the table, she said, “Listen, how about I put on a movie for you guys. I have to go home and run a few errands. Will you be okay until I get back?”

“I’ll have to ask my mom,” Mulder said tiredly.

Scully just said “Sure, Missy.”

They each took opposite ends of the couch and Melissa dropped the remotes on the cushion in between them.

“Back in a bit,” she said, and the door closed softly behind her.

XxXxXxXxXxX

Melissa took more time than she ought to have, but she wasn’t sure how long it took two repressed Federales to each let down their guard. She wasn’t trying to play matchmaker, but she wasn’t trying not to, either.

Melissa had the empathetic talent of a horse when it came to reading energies, and those that ran between her sister and Fox Mulder both crackled and arced in an electric tumult, and also flowed low, like a fast moving dark river, seeping over the stones of obstacle like a mercurial fluid. She’d never felt such a connection.

She opened the door quietly. There was no sound on the other side, and when she walked in, it was to a room filled with the blue light of the television with nothing playing. She crept into the apartment and that’s when she saw the two heads on the couch, both asleep and tilted toward each other, as if in sleep their subtle bodies took over.

She walked to the couch and placed a blanket over both their laps and left them until the morning.

XxXxXxXxXxX

Mulder woke up to the unfamiliar feeling of a warm body pressed next to his own. He still felt stiff and creaky, but he also felt refreshed, which up until now, sleeping had not done for him.

He cracked an eye and found that he was tilted sideways on Scully’s couch, his head on the armrest, his feet on the floor. Tucked into his side, with her head on his hip, was Scully, who was curled up tightly, with a blanket tucked under her chin. The bright rays of the early morning sun filtered through the tree outside her living room window and made bright patterns on her ceiling.

When he was at his most tired on the ship in the Norwegian Sea, when he’d given in to the inevitable, he’d let himself imagine that old, aged Scully sitting next to him was his. That she’d thrown in her lot with his, and had spent the last 50 years by his side. It was a nice dream to die to.

He was reminded of that as he sat there, and let himself wake up slowly. He knew she would pull away as soon as she woke, herself. He continued breathing steadily, hoping to keep her there as long as he could.

XxXxXxXxXxX

She was comfortable--almost impossibly comfortable--warm and well rested and the arthritic creaking lassitude from the week before seemed to have finally dissipated. She came awake slowly, and it wasn’t until she’d buried her face into her pillow that she realized her pillow was a person.

Mulder.

He didn’t move under her, so there was a chance he was still asleep, for which she was grateful. It wouldn’t do to be caught huffing your partner on your own couch after spending the night with him.

She kept her breathing deep and hoped he thought she was still asleep.

XxXxXxXxXxX

Melissa awoke knowing something was a little off. She cracked an eye. Dana’s side of the bed was still made, which meant she’d spent the night on the couch with her partner. She couldn’t help a satisfied smile from breaking on her face.

She dressed and tiptoed to the bathroom to conclude her morning ablutions. When she finished, she walked quietly into the living room and stood before them on the couch. She could tell by her sister’s breathing that she wasn’t asleep, and Mulder seemed tense--he was probably awake, too.

“Wakey wakey, eggs and bakey,” she said, and both pairs of their eyes slid open and looked right at her, guiltily. “Comfortable?” she said, enjoying their obvious discomfort at being discovered like this.

Dana sat up ramrod straight, pushing off her partner, who raised himself a little more gingerly and with less haste.

“I’ll make coffee,” Melissa said brightly and moved off into the kitchen.

Mulder excused himself to go into the bathroom and Melissa noted that while he was still moving slowly, he was able to make it under his own power. Dana joined her in the kitchen, looking surly.

“Sleep well, Dane?” she asked as she flicked on the coffee maker, and turned to look at her sister.

“You’re enjoying this way too much,” Dana said, then pulled a couple of mugs from the cabinet and handed them to her.

“It’s true, I am,” she replied, lining the mugs up on the countertop. “First time sleeping with your partner?”

Just then the bathroom door opened and Mulder shuffled out. Dana caught her eye and gave her a look, mouthing STOP .

Missy shrugged and turned to the coffee maker which had just finished brewing a pot. She poured herself a cup and took a seat at the table, watching them with interest.

They traded cream and sugar without saying a word, each knowing how the other took it. They were easy with each other and seemed to have a practiced choreography.

Mulder particularly seemed to have a bead on her sister and moved around her with an easy charm. The way he seemed so in tune with her, Melissa began to wonder if he kept track of her menstrual cycles, deferring to her on high lunar days and slipping dark chocolate into her pockets.

Finally, Dana leaned back against the countertop and took a sip from her mug.

“I’m feeling much better, Missy,” she said, “you should head home today, get back to your life. I really appreciate everything you’ve done for me. Us.”

It was a polite but curt dismissal.

“Oh, I don’t mind staying,” Melissa said, just to see what her sister would do.

“Not necessary,” Dana said with just a touch of sharpness.

Mulder looked toward the other side of the room and took a long sip of coffee. He knew better than to push her when she was like this. Melissa did too, but she was an older sister after all, and pushing was her prerogative. Nevertheless, she decided to ease back.

“At least let me make you guys breakfast,” she said, and she saw her sisters shoulders fall a bit in relief--she must have been expecting more push-back.

After everything had been cleaned up and put away, Melissa made her way into Dana’s bedroom to pack up her things. She could hear the murmur of light conversation through the doorway. When she came out into the living room with her bag over her shoulder, Dana was wrapping a blanket around Mulder’s shoulders as he lowered himself onto the couch, her eyes squinted with affection. Mulder looked up at her gratefully. She watched them share a long look.

She cleared her throat and Dana straightened up.

“You off?” she asked and made her way over.

“I am,” Melissa said, hugging her sister tightly and giving her shoulder a squeeze. “You guys let me know if you need anything.”

Dana smiled at her and Mulder mumbled a quiet thank you.

“The tea mix from my herbalist is on the counter by the sink,” she said, as she opened the door, then quietly to Dana “and I left condoms in the bathroom.” Dana threw the lock the second the door closed behind her.

As she walked down the hallway, she could feel the energy she’d left behind pulsing between the two partners, a complimentary, symbiotic qi. They would find their way to each other, she was certain.

Eventually.

[enchanted-prose]

#2 Joust

I’m so sorry I didn’t post on Friday! I had it finished, I was waiting on an editor and then went out. Anyways, here is my second piece: Joust

Word Count: 4,859

Characters: Roden, Mott, Jaron, Jolly (Original Character), Merry (Original Character), Lord Feall (Original Character)

Notes: Edited! This is a continuation from #1 Can’t Believe You’ve Made Me Do This and from here on out, all fics will be probably continuations and interconnected. Enjoy!

Drylliad usually welcomed high ranking visitors with a beautiful celebration, thanking the Saints for a safe arrival.

But it wasn’t every day that a king visited, even if he did answer to a higher power.

And it wasn't every day that a king's visit fell upon a festival date.

In the streets of Drylliad, streamers fluttered from windows. Lines and lines of short banners on ropes zigzagged across buildings and houses. Poles covered in flowers had been set up, ribbons hanging down from their tops.

Tents housing food from all over the realms.

Tents boasting the best imported weapons.

Tents hiding the prettiest men and women from the public eye.

It wouldn't be long before Chaos flooded the marketplace.

Children would chase stray dogs through the festival, and occasionally, drag their favorites home to become pets. Troubadours, dancers, fire eaters. There’d be massive stages built for elaborate puppet shows.

Roden couldn't deny how excited he was to see it all.

As a child, he'd enjoyed festivals. He insisted on dragging Latamer, his childhood friend, with him to see the jousting knights and fire breathing dancers. They never missed a single one, even when Latamer was convinced that he carried the plague.

Latamer was always hanging around in the back of Roden's mind.

He should've been strong enough to save his friend.

At that very moment, he was awaiting orders from King Oberson, leader of Dinwallis, one of Bymar's kingdom states, and from Jaron.

He stood in the castle's great hall, Bymarian knight Lord Feall to his left, and Mott to his right. Behind Roden stood a small company of guards.

Just enough to keep the peace, but not enough to distract from the festival.

"King Jaron and I have been discussing the attack on Lord Feall," Oberson said. He scratched at his patchy beard, "I have decided to keep my personal guard with me, though the Lady Amarinda has reassured me that there is a slim chance of another attack."

"You don't know the Faola like I do," Feall placed an armored hand over his chestplate.

"You're right, but I do trust Lady Amarinda's judgement and her husband was very insistent that the bandits who attacked you have ulterior motives," Jaron crossed his arms. "However, Lord Feall, I advise you to take care in the streets. The Faola haven't resurfaced since their attack, but it did seem that at least one of them wanted you dead."

Ah, the short bandit.

It wasn’t very often that bandits and thieves managed to escape Roden.

He was talented at his job, his drive for justice was a fuel nobody else could really understand.

The short bandit and the Faola would be apprehended eventually.

Roden remained silent as he pondered the situations that could arise. There were guards stationed in the woods at various locations, the company of guards behind him were to patrol the outskirts of the festival, and he and Feall would be keeping an eye on the festivities in the center of it all.

He didn't want to admit that Tobias was right about the Faola.

That they did end up redistributing the goods they'd stolen.

Saints, his inability to catch them made him tense with frustration.

There were better ways to go about delivering justice to the unfortunate. It didn't require breaking the law.

"I only hope that the Faola don't try to ruin this festival," Feall joked.

"As do I," said Jaron. "Roden, I trust your plan to work, you can send your men out as soon as you feel ready."

A small grin crept across his face.

There was no way Roden would say it aloud, but hearing people tell him that they ‘trust’ his plans was beyond invigorating. It was simply proof that he was an efficient leader and a capable captain.

Jaron arched an eyebrow.

Ah, Roden was still grinning.

He forced a scowl on his face.

“We’re ready to deploy.”

Roden glanced at Mott, who cleared his throat, "Will you be alright without us, Jaron?"

"I'll have you know that I don't require a governess to watch my every move. I won't get into trouble."

Nobody said a word, as nobody dared inform Jaron that despite his efforts to avoid causing a ruckus, he tended to attract danger.

Jaron threw up his hands, "Imogen's going to be with me! Is that enough reassurance?"

"I suppose, though sometimes I believe Imogen encourages your antics," Roden teased. He turned around, ordering his men to their positions before Jaron could protest.

"Do you have a backup plan if they do decide the festival's too boring for them?" Mott asked quietly, following Roden out of the great hall.

He shrugged, "I predict that Jaron is going to disguise himself, Imogen and Amarinda will follow suit, and they'll avoid Tobias as if their lives depend on it."

Mott chuckled, "He's quite the mother hen."

"It's inconvenient at times."

The image of Tobias frantically searching through the streets brought a grin to Roden's face. Tobias would probably try to enlist the help of the royal guard, insisting that something was wrong, only to find the trio laughing at him from the safety of a tent tavern.

"Have you any word of the Faola?" Mott asked. He pushed the castle's front door open, and didn't wait for Roden as he walked down the steps. "Have your scouts found anything?"

"Not exactly," Roden confessed. The morning sun already beat down on him. He'd chosen the wrong day to wear a full suit of armor. "There's a friend of mine who may have a few words to share, but I don't even know if he's here."

The last of the guards crossed the castle bridge, split into two groups, and left for their posts. Mott squinted at the towering poles bedecked with ribbons and flowers, "Ah, he's the troubadour you were telling me about the other day."

"The one and only. Last I heard from him, he was busy in Mendenwal."

"Let's hope he makes an appearance today."

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Hours passed, but still no sign of anyone remotely resembling the Faola. Roden, Mott, and Feall rode together through the streets, doing their best to avoid the unlucky few who were already succumbing to alcohol.

"Ah, day drinking," Feall chuckled. "I understand their reasonings behind that all too well."

A smirk crossed Mott's face, "I can't deny that I've considered smuggling a flask into meetings with regents."

"I have smuggled a flask into meetings with regents," Roden chuckled, but he had no intentions of trying any kind of drink anytime soon. He had a troubadour to find. "Have you seen anything Feall?"

"Not since you asked me twenty minutes ago."

"Have you seen the Faola before?" Mott asked, wrinkling his nose at the sight of a woman waving at him from a scarlet tent.

"I have, their leader is Bymarian," Feall explained. "I don't know his name yet, but I have suspicions. I think he comes from the kingdom of Idunn Craich, but I can't be sure."

"Another kingdom state," Roden noted, still scanning the crowd for his contact. "I know of two. Bultain and Dinwallis."

"Idunn Craich is a kingdom state too, so that's three."

"And the other two?"

Feall grinned, "Ulster and Midhe. Congratulations, captain, you've learned all five Bymarian kingdoms. Would you like a medal for that?"

Roden's cheeks burned, but he didn't say anything.

Despite his actions during the Avenian War, he still had to struggle with the education he'd been denied.

Noblemen within the military ranks adored pointing it out.

"Any sign of the troubadour?" Mott shielded his eyes against the blazing midday sun.

"Not yet," Roden said. "He goes by the name Jolly, he typically prefers bright colors. He's Bymarian, if that helps."

"Ah," Mott nodded. "Find a place to keep the horses. Does he differentiate between men and women? Is he a gambler?"

"He's, ah, definitely the life of the party. Why?"

Mott dismounted, gesturing for Roden and Feall to do the same. He then tipped his head in the direction of a massive building resembling a castle, "I think I know where he is."

"Even if it isn't him," Feall said as he led his horse to a post. "This seems like the area he'd be in."

"Do you know Jolly?" asked Roden in surprise, resting his hand on his sword hilt.

"I do, as a matter of fact. He's a favorite of Queen Danika."

That didn't bring any surprise.

Though Jolly didn't remain in Carthya for long increments of time, he visited often, and he always brought tales of his escapades with whoever he chose. Often, his visits ended in a bar fight or running from a disgruntled spouse.

Life was never boring with Jolly.

As they approached the temporary castle, Roden caught himself walking as slowly as he could.

Dear Saints, there was just so much to take in.

So many people hawking their wares.

Entire suckling pigs roasting on spits.

Jesters swallowing swords, fire, and many other things that would definitely kill the inexperienced.

To Roden's embarrassment, he had to jog to catch up to Feall and Mott, his armor smacking together with loud metallic clangs.

"Don't worry, you can have your fun soon," Mott said, clapping Roden on the shoulder. "You're the one who wanted to do this."

"I know, and you're right, I shouldn't get distracted," mumbled Roden as they stepped through the castle's threshold.

The scent of cooking meat wafted through the temporary castle, accompanied by the spicy aroma of spilled wine and abandoned sweets.

Despite the magnificent exterior, the temporary castle looked like any other tavern. The walls were made of stone, the floor being the trampled grass, and the windows consisting of several sticks and a gap between stones. Tables bore broken legs and chipped surfaces. A staircase led up to another floor, guarded by pockmarked women in ragged dresses. Kegs lined the back wall, a bar as long as the castle's width stood in front of them, and various sorts of mugs and cups hung from the ceiling.

A grin spread on Roden's face.

He was certain that this place was a site for enjoyment.

"There, at the back," Mott said, tilting his head towards a large crowd of men and women near the tavern's keg wall.

"That can't be-," began Roden, but he knew Mott was right the second he caught a flash of a peacock green jerkin.

Feall whistled, "That's definitely Jolly."

At the mere mention of his name, Jolly stood up, a dimpled smile breaking across his chiseled face, "See? I told you they'd come!"

The grin on Roden's face instantly melted into a frown, "This isn't going to be good."

"Do we-," Mott started, but he was cut off the second a group of tavern patrons shoved them all forward.

"Captain Harlowe! It's been far too long!" Jolly exclaimed, lithely jumping from the countertop he'd been standing on. "How are you? Still pursuing that one minstrel? Saints, can't remember her name. The one with the-"

Jolly held his hands out a fair distance from his chest, leaving Roden to uncomfortably clear his throat, "I need to ask something of you, Jolly."

"Ah, anything, but then I need to ask something from you," Jolly swayed on his feet, and would've toppled over if it weren't for the woman who caught him. Jolly patted her cheek, "I knew you cared about me, love. What, or who, can I do for you, captain?"

"Have you ever heard of the Faola?"

That was all it took to force Jolly to straighten out. He frowned, "Why?"

"They're here in Carthya," explained Feall. "King Oberson of Dinwallis and I were attacked several days ago by them."

"They're in Carthya?" Jolly shot a look at the woman at his side. "Shoo, Merry, I have to talk business."

The woman, Merry, scowled and yanked Jolly's full tankard from him as she walked away.

"We'll talk later?" called Jolly.

Roden almost didn't catch the fact that Feall's eyes were glued to Merry's leaving figure.

There was something in Feall's eyes that couldn't be placed.

"Right, the Faola," Feall said, jolting himself back into the conversation. "What do you know?"

"Ah, ah, ah," Jolly waggled his finger as he simultaneously smoothed out his jerkin. "Captain Harlowe, I desperately need your help before we do any talking about a subject that'll definitely get me into trouble."

It wasn't the first time Jolly had asked for help. Typically, he asked for assistance in escaping somebody he'd crossed, or needed help paying off a tavern bill. The chances of anything being different were slim.

He trusted Jolly.

Roden nodded, "It's alright, you can tell me later, I promise I'll help you in any way that I can."

"No, Captain, I don't think you under-"

"Tell me about the Faola, please."

For a moment, Roden worried that Jolly would remain silent.

Was discussing the Faola truly that bad?

He tried not to look relieved when Jolly finally nodded.

Jolly cleared his throat, and looked over both of his shoulders to his drunk companions, "I've had a few run-ins with them, not terrible company, if I do say so myself. There are worse bandits that I've had to deal with, but still bandits."

"What do you know of their leader?" asked Roden, holding out a hand the second Feall tried to interrupt him.

"Bangol Bandir?" Jolly chuckled, his eyebrows rising in the process. "Absolute cheater at cards. I wouldn't want to expose him, though."

"Bandir's not very big. . ."

"We must be thinking of two different Bangol Bandirs because the one that I know could crush your head between his thighs, Captain."

Mott smirked, "That description matches the bandit we're looking for just perfectly."

"Ha," Roden didn't bother hiding the annoyance now throbbing through his head. "Your jokes brighten my day."

"No, no, no," Feall blurted out, speaking before Roden could get him to remain quiet. "I'm Lord Feall, a member of Queen Danika's court, and while traveling here I was singled out by a bandit much shorter than you. It could've been a woman."

"Couldn't be Faola then, Bandir doesn't employ women for thievery. He uses them to poison enemies too strong to challenge in battle," he turned to one of his friends. "Can you find Merry? I want my drink back."

"Tobias insisted that the bandits were Faola," Mott scratched his chin, a thoughtful expression cemented on his face. "Perhaps the bandit who attacked you, Lord Feall, wasn't a leader at all."

"Impossible, there's no way a single bandit could-," he began, but he never finished his sentence.

"By the Saints! Lord Feall? I know you," Jolly burst, a new drink in his hand thanks to his crowd of followers. "Haven't seen you in years, has your inheritance been resolved?"

"Inheritance?" Echoed Mott and Roden in unison.

Feall's face darkened, "I was set up to inherit Idunn Craich, but the, ah, rules of inheritance have become muddled. Idunn Craich's throne was left to a disgraced family, but as Queen Danika sees it, there is more to the story. Idunn Craich will be mine someday, but that's beside the point. You'll have to forgive me Jolly, we rarely conversed."

"Ah, but that doesn't matter, I heard everything about you from court," said Jolly as he took a prolonged sip from his tankard.

"Anyways," Feall cleared his throat. "Have you any idea who could've led the attack?"

"Possibly. But what's in it for me?"

Roden kept his mouth shut as both Feall and Mott looked to him. He scowled, "I already promised you that I'd assist you. What more do you want?"

"I- I just," Jolly stuttered, and he wiped his hands on his tunic.

Jolly. . . Nervous?

A rare occurrence indeed.

"What do you want?"

"I bet against that table over there, regarding the, uh, joust this afternoon. . . And the man I bet on. . ."

Oh no.

That's what Jolly meant when he asked for help.

That's why he wouldn't speak until he knew that his request would be fulfilled.

He needed to know that there would be somebody to ride in the jousting tournament and win for him.

"That's too much to ask, Jolly," Mott was dangerously calm. "There's not enough time to find somebody to ride in the place of your failed man."

"It's going to cost me money," Jolly wailed. "It's going to tarnish my reputation!"

"We'll pay you the money you lost for the information," Feall offered, his eyes blazing with determination.

"You should understand the importance of a reputation, sir!"

"We'll pay you double! Triple-!"

"That's enough," Roden held up his hand, and a light smirk crossed his face. "I'll ride in the joust, but I'll only do it if you tell me what I need to know. Can you promise me that, Jolly?"

"You? Joust? Captain, that's absurd. You don't-!"

"You'd be surprised at what I'm capable of, my friend."

Roden shrugged once he realized that Mott and Feall were staring at him. He'd practiced on his own time, there was a large array of perks that came with being able to use a lance on the battlefield.

Now he'd have the chance to ride in a tournament.

Granted, it was his first official tournament, but Jolly didn't need to know anything about that.

"Alright, fine," Jolly looked over his shoulder again, and then gestured to a broken table in the corner. "I'll tell you what I know about the Faola."

"Thank you-," Roden began, but Jolly shook his head.

"I'm trusting that you'll win the tournament, Captain, otherwise. . . Things will no longer continue to work in my favor. Shoo! Go away!"

Jolly continued to wave off his companions as they approached the table. They soon lost interest in him, and turned to harass the poor minstrel in the corner.

"Right," Jolly rubbed his hands together. "Now, there's rumors following the Faola like nobody's business. I've seen sections of them working in Bymar and Avenia, so they're not just exclusive to Carthya."

"Bymar, that would line up with why they'd attack Feall but not King Jaron," Roden noted, wishing he had something to write down everything Jolly said.

"Could the attacker have been a woman?" Feall asked, his brow furrowing.

"Hush, let the man speak," Mott held up a hand.

Feall shut his mouth.

"Thank you," said Jolly. "It's entirely possible you were attacked by a woman, but I doubt it, Faola women are much smarter than the men. They'd administer poison to you in doses till it seemed like you died of natural causes. They're all quite dominant, too, frightening once they get you tied up and-"

"Jolly. Remain on the subject."

"Sorry Captain, where was I? Ah yes, potential identities. Several members of the Faola adopt names that aren't their own, some use it to instill fear and others use their stolen names to justify their causes. Notable aliases include Veldergrath, Bevin Conner, Mireldis Thay, Joth Kerwyn, King Eckbert himself. It's a way of being able to hide the fact that they work with bandits."

"I recognize Mireldis Thay," Feall murmured, but he couldn't remain quiet any longer. He smacked the table, "She's what stands in the way of Idunn Craich."

"It would be idiotic for Lady Thay to use her first name while fighting as a bandit," Mott pointed out.

Jolly nodded, "And then attack you. Besides, I know Lady Thay, she's far from here. It's just somebody tarnishing her name, just as the bandits who sport Lord Kerwyn's name are trying to do. No, no, I suspect that you're dealing with somebody else. Have any details I can go by?"

"Nothing, aside from the height," Roden said. "He, or she, was short, a little bit shorter than the average woman."

"Perfect!" Jolly exclaimed, standing up as he did so. "I'll see what I can do about finding your mystery bandit. And don't forget to win that tournament, Captain, I highly suggest that you don’t lose."

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"I'm beginning to worry that you haven't gotten anything keeping you away from making stupid choices," Mott said, tapping Roden's head. "Jaron's rubbed off on you."

"Ah, well, I need to learn all that I can about the Faola, and Jolly is our best bet," Roden said, strapping a plate of armor to each of his legs.

The tent he and Mott were sheltered in was blindingly hot.

The armor Roden put on made the heat nearly unbearable.

"You're sure you're going to be alright?" asked Mott as he shoved a helmet in Roden's direction.

He shrugged, "There's danger in everything I do."

It wasn't his first time using a lance, he'd trained for several months after he realized the value in being able to wield a lance while in a battle. Roden knew the risks and he knew the rules.

But a splintering lance was far different from a sword.

A splintering lance might not hit you directly, but chances were high that a piece of wood could lodge itself in your face or neck.

Not an enjoyable way to die. . . Not that dying is something to be enjoyed.

Roden pulled the helmet on over his head, and slid the visor up, "Would you give me a favor of yours to carry with me?"

"No."

"Please?"

"Absolutely not."

"Please remember my name if I fall on this lovely afternoon," Roden joked, slamming the visor over his face.

Mott scowled, "You're not going to die, and if you do, it means you're awful at jousting."

"I suppose I have to win now so I can prove you wrong."

"I'm concerned, were you not planning on winning in the first place?"

"There's always a chance at losing, but I try not to let that be an option. This will be over soon, my friend," Roden's voice was muffled behind the helmet. "We'll meet at the tavern this evening, Jolly said he'd be waiting there."

The sound of trumpeters shook the summer air. Mott frowned, and held the tent flap open for Roden, silent and disapproving as he almost always was. However, he did clap Roden's armored shoulder and whispered a few words of luck before he made his way to the stands.

Children waved multicolored flags at him, Roden waved back.

Ah, how he'd dreamed of taking up a lance.

Jolly's rider, the man Roden was replacing, was an older knight named Cronnach Nyrsate. Sir Nyrsate's coat of arms had been painted onto a wooden shield and leaned against the judges' box. . . Which usually sat Jaron, Imogen, the Prime Regent, and three other guests.

It was a surprise to see Jaron holding Imogen's hand in their seats and not off causing trouble. Harlowe sat next to them.

Saints, it would be humiliating if Roden lost in front of his father.

Sir Nyrsate's horse was supposed to be ridden for the match, but Roden had just enough time to pull enough strings and get his own horse armored and ready to go.

That would give him a slight advantage. His horse, a gift from Bymar, was massive. Bred specifically for war. It made the rider taller, never stopped, and brought a crushing power that rivaled all other warhorses.

It was a little frustrating, however, to see Roden's horse bearing the Nyrsate coat of arms rather than the Harlowe coat of arms.

Roden swung up into the saddle. . .

And finally allowed himself a look at his opponent.

He didn't recognize the coat of arms, nor did he recognize the horse. All Roden saw was a large man in battle scarred armor, which would've been painted black at one point. A red plum erupted from his helmet.

Definitely more than a little intimidating.

Jaron stood up, and raised his hands out to the stands full of festival goers. Roden was too far away to hear anything.

Not that he would've been able to hear anything anyways.

He was far too focused on his opponent.

"Sir! Sir Nyrsate!" Bellowed a flock of snot nosed teenagers, street rats, and esteemed young heirs to noble houses.

Roden waved a hand at them, he couldn't speak now. He needed to focus.

"Ah, good sir!" Shouted a man over the roar of the crowd. Jaron must've said something funny. The man waved his hands. "Sir!"

Roden squinted, Jolly was there to see him off.

"Good luck," called Jolly as he launched himself over the barrier keeping the viewers out. A girl followed behind. "Me and Merry came to give you a send off, and the kids of course, you simply have to let them send you off."

"A favor for you, sir knight," Merry bowed deeply, retrieving a dirty blue scarf from the front of her gown as she did so. She tied it to Roden's right wrist before stepping back to help several members of Roden's screaming fans over the side of the fence.

"Remember, if you knock him off his horse, it's an instant win," Jolly patted Roden's thigh, and hefted a lance over to him.

"I know the rules," Roden huffed as he tucked the lance under his arm.

A page stepped out from Jaron's box, holding out a flag like a sword.

The flag went up.

Roden charged forwards, a small band of children howling as they chased him and his horse for several feet.

All he had to do was aim for the center, lower the lance, and hold firm.

Inhale.

Exhale.

The crowd began to scream the second a lance cracked-

Stars blurred across Roden's vision.

He missed!

Saints, he hoped Mott didn't see that. Jolly's concerned face from the crowd didn't help, Merry was the one to get him a new lance.

Flag up, screaming children, crowd cheering.

Roden missed again.

It took three points to win a match. Points were earned when a lance was broken or a rider was toppled. One point for each broken lance, and so far, Roden hadn't broken any of his.

He was two points down.

One point away from losing.

Anger burst through his lungs.

How could he have been so stupid!? Signing up for a joust! He'd never ridden in front of so many screaming civilians before!

The children who'd been chasing at him clamored for his attention, but they backed away the second he didn't say anything.

"Lean in the saddle," Merry said as she handed Roden a fresh lance. She patted his horse's shoulder, "I know you're fierce, unhorse him and that's a match."

"I've never done this before," Roden confessed, unsure if she'd heard him over the roar of the crowd.

"You've done it twice just now, third time's the charm. Go on, don't let Jolly down. Or me. You're wearing my favor, and everybody in town knows that it's mine. You'll damage my reputation."

"I'm so sorry about your reputation."

"As you should! Be more sorry about your reputation, sir knight!" Merry shot back, her hands on her hips. "Are you so quick to give up?!"

The crowd screamed, Roden jolted to attention.

His opponent charged early, ready to finish the match off.

Merry cried out, and slapped out at Roden's horse's flank, causing the mighty beast to rear up.

Roden shouldered the lance, forcing the horse in a straight path down the arena.

Lean in the saddle

He could hear Merry's words ringing in his head.

Time seemed to slow around him as he blocked out everything save for the man barreling towards him. The crowd's screams were muffled.

Like they were shrieking underneath a pond's surface.

Lean in the saddle.

The rider was coming closer and closer to him.

Roden gripped the lance and-

Wood splintered.

The unmistakable sound of metal colliding with the solid ground cut through the muffled noises.

He was still in the saddle, holding a shattered lance.

Roden was still in his saddle.

He'd made a hit!

Instantly, Roden turned his horse around itself, and held up the broken lance to Merry and Jolly. His opponent was being dragged out of the arena by his foot. Pages chased the runaway horse. Mott was standing among the crowd, his hands above his head.

"That was amazing!" Jolly shrieked as he ran to Roden. "Knocked him clean off!"

A trail of all sorts of children, the ones who'd chased Roden down the arena, came flooding, waving their banners and shouting for "Sir Nyrsate's" attention.

"You better pay up," Roden said, tossing the broken lance to the ground.

The children all scrambled for it.

"Oh, I will, I promise I will," Jolly vowed, grabbing Merry by the shoulders to plant kisses all over her face. "Dear Saints, I've won too much money."

"Don't gamble on drunks ever again," Merry snapped as she shoved Jolly away from her.

"Oh, I won't, I promise I won't."

Roden was certain that he and Merry were thinking the same thing: Jolly would certainly go on to bet on more drunks.

But perhaps it was worth it.

After all, Roden received his chance to ride in a jousting tournament.

And he'd guaranteed an opportunity to learn more about the Faola.

It wouldn't be long before he caught them.

[artemisegeria]

The Fabric of Our Lives

A/N: Today is the two year anniversary of my writing Scarlet Vision fanfiction, so I wrote a fic celebrating their second wedding anniversary. Rated G, no warnings.

“What’s the theme,” a large yawn that she unsuccessfully tried to cover escaped her, “of this year’s present again?” Wanda’s eyes closed as she sank further into the couch cushions. She had been getting fatigued much more quickly over the last eight weeks. Vision had been pressing her to see Doctor Cho or another medical professional, but she insisted her tiredness was simply a result of their active lifestyle.

Vision smiled at her. He had to admit that he found her extremely cute when she was so relaxed. They had decided last year before their first anniversary to follow the traditional order of anniversary gifts. Well, it had been Vision’s idea, and Wanda had gone along with it. “Cotton. This versatile material represents both comfort and strength. Like threads of cotton woven together, so too will our marriage become more interconnected in time.”*

Vision had already started to create Wanda’s anniversary gift. He had rented a

“Right. Cotton. Interconnected. Got it.” She didn’t even bother to stifle the next yawn.

Vision smiled indulgently at her. “Would you like a foot rub, my love?”

“Yes, please.” He lifted her feet into his lap, pressing his thumb into the arch. Within minutes she was snoring. Vision shifted to carry her into their bedroom. When he settled beside her, he set to thinking about what he could give her that fit his theme.

***

Wanda had finally taken Vision’s advice to see a doctor. She was sitting in their room, clutching the results of the tests they had ordered.

Pregnant.

It was impossible. Wasn’t it?

Apparently not.

She read the results for what felt like the millionth time. She and Vision had discussed having children, the possibility of adoption, what their life would look like if they chose to bring children into it. They had been certain that they would have to seek out artificial insemination if Wanda wanted to become pregnant.

Now all their speculation was proven worthless. She was pregnant with Vision’s baby, no matter how unlikely it seemed. As the reality sunk in, Wanda let herself feel the happiness of this gift. Being parents was something both she and Vision wanted, but she hadn’t yet let herself feel the full extent of how much she wanted it. She didn’t want Vision to feel guilty for the difficulties they might have in conceiving.

When she felt the edge of Vision’s mind returning, she shut down their connection, walling her mind off carefully. She needed a little more time to get used to the idea before she told him. She quickly put the paper away in her nightstand drawer. Vision entered the room with a soft smile on his face, which she gladly returned.

But when he felt the wall in her mind, his mouth puckered in confusion. She patted his knee and smiled at him to reassure him. “I can’t have you guess what I’m giving you for our anniversary.” She felt a pinprick of guilt, but justified that she would tell him the truth soon enough.

“Ah. Then I shan’t pry.”

“Movie?” she asked, to distract him and herself.

“That sounds lovely.” They selected a light-hearted comedy on Netflix and cuddled up together. Wanda found herself focusing more on the feeling of Vision’s heartbeat beneath her ear than the ridiculous plot on screen. She smoothed her hand up and down the material of his pajama shirt, needing to touch him to remind herself that this was her life.

As always, with or without their mental link, Vision sensed her need for comfort. He swept her hair to the side, first rubbing her neck before moving his hands down the length of her back, kneading and massaging. She melted further into his body.

Before she knew it, the room had darkened, and she noticed that Vision had turned off the movie. The covers were pulled up firmly around her chin and Vision was still awake with a book in hand.

She struggled to sit up. When she finally managed it, she kissed Vision on the cheek. “Good night.” She didn’t like to go to sleep without wishing him well for the evening.

“Sleep well, Wanda.” She relaxed back against the pillows, content in the knowledge that her growing family was safe and together.

***

Vision traveled to the apartment he had rented to hide his project. The tapestry stood as he had left it several days previously, still only half completed on the loom. He eyed it critically. It did not look as he had envisioned it. But he supposed he would have to wait to see the finished product.

He continued his weaving. He focused entirely on his project. The rest of the world became immaterial as he poured all his love for Wanda into his work. Hours passed as he wove the threads into a seamless whole, hoping to make them as strong as the bonds that held their marriage together.

It was dark when he finished that day’s portion. He took a leisurely flight back to the mansion. The breeze of the cool night air reinvigorated him after a day of stillness.

Wanda was already asleep by the time he returned. He tucked her in carefully and lay down next to her. She stirred, reaching across the bed for his hand. Vision drew her hand to his lips. “I am back, Wanda. Sweet dreams.”

She murmured something that he could not decipher before relaxing again. He settled one arm around her as he transitioned into his resting mode to keep her company.

***

Wanda gradually got used to the idea of her pregnancy. At least it gave her an idea of what to give Vision for their anniversary. She placed the order with a week to spare before their date night. She had planned last year’s anniversary, so it was Vision’s turn this time. And he was not giving her any hints. Any time she angled for hints, he simply smiled at her and said that she would find out on the night.

So, she went about her days, trying to conceal her anticipation of the revelation she was about to make and her curiosity about the date. All while trying not to act too different than usual. When she received the notification that her items had arrived, she rushed down to the guard station. The mail had not yet been sorted, but the agent on duty was one she was friendly with. She helped Wanda find her package, and she hid it in an unused room in the mansion.

Then, she went down to one of the training rooms to burn off some of her anxiety. She was mindful of not expending too much energy because fatigue still plagued her, but she would not have minded an excuse to take a nap.

Later that evening, she asked Vision to read to her. He chose one of her favorite fairy tales. She imagined him reading to the babies and smiled to herself. She let the smooth, rich sound of his voice carry her away. As had happened many times recently, she found herself snug in bed a while later. Vision was lightly stroking a hand through her hair, and she sank into him.

***

Vision bade farewell to Wanda early in the morning on the day before their anniversary. He had wished to finish his project before then, but a last-minute mission had derailed his plans somewhat. He was grateful that he had put a cushion in his schedule, just in case.

He had only to clean up the edges of the tapestry before presenting it to Wanda. His wife. He was still taken aback by that fact. She had chosen to share her life with him, and he would always be grateful for that.

After finishing the tapestry, Vision carefully rolled it up and tied it neatly with a ribbon, placing it in a cylindrical poster container. He hoped Wanda would like it. He hoped he would not needlessly open old wounds.

***

Wanda couldn’t help fidgeting as she sat through another meeting. She appreciated that Carol and Sam’s meetings were faster than Steve’s, but she needed to get away to finish wrapping her anniversary present. Not to mention to keep some distance between her and Vision, lest she give away the secret early.

She fled as soon as the meeting was over. She had experimented with wrapping the presents separately and having Vision open a number of bags and boxes. But in the end, she decided that she could not bear his usual calm approach to opening so many packages. She was already tying herself up in knots imagining his reaction.

***

Vision watched Wanda eating the meal he had prepared with pride. They were sitting on a blanket on the floor of his rented apartment. She was devouring the lasagna he had prepared with relish and had barely stopped to say a word. When she finally looked up, she was blushing slightly. “That was really good, Vizh.”

Wanda eventually offered him a bite, but he declined. He was eager to have her open his present. Wanda finished her meal in a few more minutes. “I am glad you enjoyed it. Are you ready for dessert?”

“Dessert or dessert?” She wiggled her eyebrows on the last word.

“The former.” Her pout enchanted him, as always.

“Fine.”

He removed the chocolate-covered strawberries from the cooler he had brought for their makeshift picnic. When she saw them, Wanda immediately forgot her faux annoyance. She ate one strawberry with the same enthusiasm that she had eaten her entrée. A piece of chocolate stuck to the side of her mouth, and Vision gently wiped away with his thumb. “Another?” She nodded. Vision selected one, pressing it to her lips. He licked the juice off his fingers when she was done.

Wanda was staring at him dreamily, but she clapped her hands together. “Okay. Present time.”

“May I go first, Wanda?” He had waited long enough to present this to her.

“Sure.” She looked oddly relieved at his request, but Vision was more concerned about the reception of his own gift.

“Just one moment.” He phased through the other room and pulled out the cylinder. When he presented it to Wanda, she seemed perplexed.

“What is this?”

Vision held back a smile and struggled to maintain a flat tone. “I believe the general theory behind gifts is that the recipient opens the gift to discover what is inside.”

“Ha ha. Very funny.” She tossed a wadded up napkin at him. Vision let it bounce off him harmlessly. She pulled the top out of the cardboard tube and turned it upside down to let the tapestry out. She pulled on the string that was holding together. The tapestry unrolled and Wanda stared at it. She was utterly still, enough to make Vision fear he had misstepped.

Vision gazed at his handiwork over Wanda’s shoulder. It showed their wedding as it would have been in an ideal world. The entire team was present at Clint’s farm. Natasha and Pietro were standing with Wanda. Her parents were sitting in the front row. Vision had not wanted to cause pain, but he thought she deserved a taste of what their wedding should have been.

Wanda’s wide smile and tear-filled eyes when she finally turned from the picture reassured him. “How long did this take you?” Her voice was still shaky with unshed tears.

“Roughly six weeks.”

“Thank you.” She slid closer to him, leaning into his chest. “This is amazing.”

He stroked his hands through her hair and relaxed into their embrace. He almost forgot about his present when Wanda slowly pulled away from him. “Let me get yours.” She levitated a medium-sized box from her bag over to him.

Wanda’s tears faded away. Vision noticed a new pitch of excitement in her. Her hands were shaking, and her powers fizzed more wildly around her wrists, spreading up her arms. Her energy was infectious. Vision abandoned his usual careful unwrapping and tore through the paper covering the box.

The first item he uncovered was a miniscule item of clothing. He gingerly unfolded it. The front read, “Marco…” The next onesie read, “Polo…” Vision was smart; he knew the likely meaning of this present, but his mind shut down at this new information. He simply pressed forward with the next items in the box.

Vision pulled out the next set. One read, “copy;” one read, “paste.” The final set bore the declarations: “Yes, we’re twins.” and “No, we’re not identical.” Beneath those were two matching adult-size shirts. The top line read, “Overachiever.” Below that was an image of four tiny feet and below that, it said, “I never do anything halfway.”

When he reached the end of the clothing, he sat still. Dumbstruck was too small a word for what he was feeling. He was also struck blind and deaf. His neural processing all but stopped for a few moments.

Soon he distantly realized that Wanda was clutching his hands. “Vizh. Please say something.”

“You’re pregnant?”

“Yeah.”

“With twins.”

“Uh-huh.”

Wanda was still staring at him pleadingly. Something about her worry allowed Vision to regain functionality. A smile that he could not contain broke out on his face as he slid his hands up her arms. When he reached her back, he pulled her toward him and leaned back so that Wanda was resting on top of him.

She giggled into his neck as he gently nibbled her earlobe and pressed kisses to her cheek and jaw and neck. Joy spilled out of him in a laugh as well. He was chuckling into her shoulder for many long moments.

When they both finally calmed down, Vision cradled Wanda’s face in his hands to draw her gaze to his. Her expression had settled into a bright smile that was at odds with the tears pouring from her eyes. She reached down to wipe the tears from his own cheeks. “We’re really having two babies?”

“We really are, Vizh.”

“This is the best present that I have ever received.”

“Me, too. I wanted to tell you as soon as I found out, but I needed a little time.”

“And that is the true reason you’ve been shutting me out?”

“Yeah.” Their eyes met for an endless moment. Vision would remember this for the rest of his existence.

The moment broke when they collapsed into giddy, overjoyed laughter again. Vision wrapped his arms tightly around her. Their little family was growing. Their marriage held more than enough love to nourish a baby. It was only appropriate that their love and marriage would bring two children into the world.

Together, they would weave their love together into a fabric that would never be torn apart.

*The previous two sentences were taken from a search result on google because I really liked the wording and thought it sounded like something Vision might say. Available here: https://www.thespruce.com/traditional-second-year-anniversary-gifts-cotton-2301868.

[winterune]

Bound by Will

Word count: 6715

Summary: Shortly after the start of Natsume's freshman year of college, he meets a youkai who seems to have some sort of connection to Reiko.

Was supposed to write this for natsumeweek, but alas, I did not have the time to write for all the prompts. However, I still plan on writing this as a series based on the event prompts. They will be interconnected stories, maybe not direct continuations, but each will still be connected in some way to the other. 

So, Day 2 Prompt: Past/Future.

Read on AO3

Previous entry: Tumblr / AO3 / My NatsuYuu fic masterlist

~*~*~*~*~

There was a club in their university that specialized in Occult Study and Natsume found himself being dragged into its premises.

It started fifteen minutes back, when Natsume came down from his lecture building to join Tanuma and Taki in the cafeteria. Someone stopped him in his tracks. Ebony eyes glinted behind a pair of black-rimmed glasses.

“Hey,” he said with a grin stretching from ear to ear. “Do you want to join our club?”

He then had explained in length that he was from an Occult Study club in need for new recruits because they had reached the bare minimum of members needed to form a club. A couple of their members would graduate next year, and if they hadn’t recruited any new members by then, their club would be forced to disband.

Natsume hadn’t heard of this Occult Study club. In fact, he didn’t remember seeing one when they were all showcasing their clubs and circles at the start of freshman year.

“What’s your name?” the man asked.

“Takashi Natsume,” Natsume replied on instinct, regretting almost immediately that he had just told his name to a stranger that he wasn’t even sure was a human. There was a sinking feeling at the pit of his stomach as the man’s grin grew.

“I’m Akihiko Chiba. You can just call me Aki. Everyone does that.”

A nickname on the first minute of their first meeting?

“Want to take a peek of our club, Natsume-kun?” The level of familiarity this man projected. Aki…senpai pointed over to the general direction of the student union center where most of the clubrooms were located.

Natsume wasn’t sure. His mind told him that something was off, that he should refuse and told him his friends were waiting, but his heart seemed to say otherwise. So he found himself nodding and Aki-senpai’s grin widened.

***

A part of him said the club wasn’t real. That this was a scam, and if this Aki-senpai showed any signs of being or related to a youkai of any sort, Natsume would hit him in the head and run for his life.

But then they finally stopped and Natsume looked up to see a ramshackle shack that looked to be an old disused storage in the middle of a copse of trees.

“Here we are,” Aki-senpai said ahead of him, reaching toward the wooden door. It shook and grated against the floor. “Welcome, to our humble abode!”

Natsume braced himself. A face or teeth or limbs trying to take him in and he would run.

But only silence greeted him.

Aki-senpai invited him in with a nod of his head. Natsume gulped, gripping the sling of his messenger bag tighter as he stepped through the threshold.

The place smelled of dust and rust and the lingering scent of cup noodles. Sleek gray walls surrounded him with a single lamp hanging down the center of the room, swaying in the gentle breeze entering through the door. He spotted shelves stacked with thick books and a scatter of various objects and boxes on a nearby table. A used mattress on one side and at the center was a rickety table where two of the four people present played a game of shogi.

“All right, break it up, guys!” Aki-senpai said. He slapped the back of the guy playing the game. Big, muscled, with blonde hair and piercings on his ear.

“Go away,” the guy who looked like a delinquent said, waving his hand to ward Aki-senpai off. “We’re in the middle of the game!”

“We’re down to five people and all you do is play shogi.”

“What’s wrong with that?” the delinquent’s opponent, a girl with a red checkered shirt and glasses, said. Her hand moved and slammed a shogi piece on the board. “Ha!” The delinquent stared wide-eyed.

Aki-senpai sighed. “What’s wrong, Aoi, is that we’re gonna be shut down if we don’t get any new members.”

Stretching her names over her head, the girl called Aoi said, “No one wants to join us.”

“Well, I brought someone.”

Natsume started, his feet taking an involuntary step back, as four pairs of eyes suddenly looked up and found him by the threshold. Their surprise told him enough that they hadn’t seen any new members for years. What had started as simple curiosity was slowly turning into regret and Natsume hoped they wouldn’t force him to join. He didn’t even know what these people actually do. Exorcism? Or simply studying the unseen? But judging from the dust collecting on the shelves, he doubted any of them actually dealt in Occult Study.

The delinquent eyed him with scrutiny as he leaned back on his chair and laced his fingers behind his head. “You really wanna join?”

Natsume blinked. What should he say? No? That he was only looking around? For one, he hadn’t decided if he wanted to join a club or circle or any of the sort. Even if he had, would he really join an Occult Study when his life was already swarming with youkai—even if these people were only here to hang around with nothing else to do?

“Well he didn’t really say that.” Aki-senpai went to his defense. “I only offered to show him around.”

The delinquent stared at him before clicking his tongue in irritation. Leaning over the table once more, he picked up another shogi piece and moved it across the board. “Don’t go dragging people here, Chiba.”

Aki-senpai apologized, though still scolding them on the side that they should act more like club members. “This is why no one wants to join.”

“Pretty sure that’s not the reason why,” another girl said. She had been sitting on the mattress, scrolling through her phone lazily, and now she fell onto her back with not much care about the world.

Their interest in him dwindled once they knew that Natsume wasn’t here to join. Aoi and the delinquent were completely absorbed in their shogi game, forgetting about him entirely. The girl on the phone ignored Aki-senpai as he tried to explain their need for members. Only one paid attention—the final boy standing by the shogi players, who had been just as absorbed in the game as the players themselves when Natsume and Aki-senpai entered. A boy roughly around his senpai’s age, with jet-black hair falling over gray eyes.

Their eyes met.

A sickening feeling rose from the pit of his stomach as those eyes seemed to suck him in. Natsume.

Natsume looked with a start. Aki-senpai stood in front of him, still wearing that easy-going grin. He had called his name.

“So, what do you think, Natsume-kun?” he asked. Natsume blinked, feeling a lump rise at the back of his throat. His heart raced, his fingers felt clammy. A high-pitched ringing filled his ears. Aki-senpai seemed to notice the change, because he drew his brows in concern and asked, "Are you all right?" His voice sounded so far away. 

Natsume blinked again and the feeling slowly dissipated, as though it had never happened. The bitterness he had felt in his mouth faded away and his ears returned to normal. "I'm all right, Senpai,” he managed to say. But he still didn't feel well, so he excused himself for the day.  

***

“You’re late!”

Nyanko-sensei was sitting on Taki’s lap with a frown and a glare when Natsume finally reached the cafeteria. Tanuma and Taki looked up from one of the round tables.

“Nyanko-sensei? What are you doing here?” Natsume asked.

The cat looked away with an irritated huff.

“I found him coming out of the bushes near your building, Natsume-kun,” Taki said. “You didn’t come so we looked for you.”

“Did you go somewhere?” Tanuma asked.

“Sorry.” Natsume took a seat between them. “A senpai tried to recruit me for his club.”

Tanuma tilted his head to the side. “What club?”

“Occult Study?”

His friends stared at him in the same disbelief Natsume had felt the moment Aki-senpai told him the name of his club. Who could blame them? Neither of them had expected a club like that to exist. He wanted to laugh, but his body felt drained and heavy and all he wanted was to sleep.

“You look pale,” Tanuma remarked, concerned.

Natsume tried to wave him off, to smile and say that he was fine, but his shoulders slumped before he could manage. His chest felt heavy, his breathing labored. Tanuma and Taki jumped to their feet in alarm.

 “Did you meet an ayakashi, Natsume?” Nyanko-sensei had leaped onto the table between them, his gaze narrowed and hard.

Ayakashi?

He tried to remember, but he couldn’t. He didn’t know. Natsume shook his head, listless. Nyanko-sensei’s gaze could have drilled a hole in him if he had the power to.  

Taki looked at Nyanko-sensei, then Natsume, and pursed her lips. “Anyway, let’s get you home first," she said. She pushed away from her chair and pulled Natsume to his feet. Tanuma carried his bag and supported Natsume on his other side. Sensei trailed just a few feet behind them, his eyes never leaving Natsume.

***

The three of them lived in the same small apartment complex near campus, on the same floor, only several doors apart. Tanuma took the key from Natsume and opened the door to Natsume’s apartment, where they shuffled him inside and lay him on his bed.

Natsume’s head swam and pounded, sweat covering his brow and neck. He heard distinct voices, whispers—Tanuma and Taki discussing whether they should stay in Natsume’s apartment until he seemed better.

“Good thing tomorrow’s a weekend,” Tanuma said.

Natsume went in and out of stupor. At one moment he was walking in darkness, his body sluggish as he tried to find a way out. At another, he heard his friends’ voices drifting in and out. His nose picked up a scent of food—chicken or some sort. His friends talked about school works or interrogated Nyanko-sensei on what he meant by meeting an ayakashi.

“Why were you at school, Sensei?” Tanuma asked.

“I was checking it out,” Sensei replied through a mouthful of whatever dinner his friends had gotten him.

“Sensei!” Taki probed.

It was a while before Natsume heard him say, “I felt a presence, all right, and I followed it.”

“And it led you to the school?”

Natsume in vain fought to keep his consciousness. It went under again before he could hear what Nyanko-sensei had to say.

One time, he heard a voice, a child’s, crying in the distance. Another time, he felt a heavy lump on his stomach before someone took it off him with a reprimanding tone in her voice.

Her.

When Natsume opened his eyes, he was standing in a clearing. A small forest clearing where a patch of dappled sunlight pooled on the ground. The foliage around him was thick and green, the wind brushing his face cool to the touch.

A quiet sob drew his attention and Natsume found a small boy crouching against a tree, hugging his scraped and bleeding knees to his chest.

Natsume blinked and a woman materialized there. Her long brown hair fell to her waist. She wore a green floral dress that reached to her calf. Natsume recognized her, though he had never seen her outside of her school uniform.

“Are you all right?” Reiko asked the boy. She looked older, somewhat calmer.

The boy looked up. Dark hair fell over gray eyes. He looked familiar though Natsume couldn’t remember who or where he had seen him.

“Who’re you?” the boy asked.

Reiko crouched in front of him. “I’m Reiko. You are?”

The boy’s eyes widened at that. Natsume heard shuffles of tiny feet and rustles in the trees. Several pairs of eyes looked down at them from above—tiny youkai drawn by their curiosity.

“You’re Reiko?” the boy asked.

“I am.”

“You don’t look so bad.”

Reiko tilted her head to the side. “What do you mean by that?”

“They say a powerful human who’s been terrorizing the ayakashi on the other side of the mountain has been seen around here lately,” the boy said. “They say the human is called Reiko Natsume.”

Reiko stared at him for a silent moment, before she snorted and burst into laughter—the sort of laughter that shook her to her core. Natsume had never seen her laugh so freely like that. The boy could only stare, transfixed.

“What’s your name?”

The youkai shook his head. “I don’t have a name.”

Reiko let out a quiet breath as she stood up and brushed her hands on her skirt. “Those scraps look painful,” she said. “I know someone who can patch you up.” And then she looked at him with a thin smile and offered him her hand. “Let’s go.”

***

Natsume woke up to a different darkness. Not the pressing, suffocating darkness he had trodden in-between dream and reality, but warmer, and friendlier, where he could see his ceiling past the initial darkness his eyes perceived. His clothes felt damp, his body sticky. His eyes were still heavy but the pounding in his head was gone.

A dream. Of an older Reiko.

Natsume wouldn’t have had these dreams if he hadn’t encountered a youkai. But his mind was exhausted to retrace recent events where he could have met one, so he let the thought be. Instead, he looked to the side, where he heard a soft rhythmic breathing of someone asleep. Sensei was there, curled up beside him. He could just make out the outline of Taki sleeping on the couch and Tanuma on the table by the kitchen counter.

Natsume shifted on his bed, trying to sit up without waking anyone. His stomach grumbled. He needed to eat. Hopefully, there were leftovers from whatever dinner his friends had.

Just as he drew his feet off his blanket, he felt it, a stare from the corner of the room. He looked up to find a pair of gray eyes looking straight at him. Natsume jerked in surprise. The pair of eyes took a step forward and a head materialized, followed by a body and its limbs.

The boy with the dark hair from his dream. But older. His age.

Natsume caught himself. Could a youkai age?

“Natsume-sama,” the youkai began and Natsume was again struck with a familiarity that he had seen this boy somewhere.

Natsume’s head pounded once more, like a painful strike of a hammer to his temple. He grunted, his hand flying to the side of his head, and the youkai froze.

“Natsume-sama, I do not wish you harm.”

“Who are you?”

“My name is Haru.”

“What do you want?”

The youkai—Haru—shook his head. “I have something to tell you—something to show—but I cannot state that here. The barrier your guardian has placed around you is strong. I cannot stay here long.”

“Then—”

“If you would, Natsume-sama, there is a place near here. A store. Old Roots. You can find me there.”

A shift on his bed. Nyanko-sensei blinked sleepy eyes at him. He mumbled his name, eyes narrowing.

The youkai stared at the cat for a good second. “I will wait for you there,” he said quickly right as Nyanko-sensei’s eyes flew open and he leaped onto his feet, bright white light bursting from the mark on his head.

Haru had vanished.

***

“You and your pests,” Nyanko-sensei grumbled later that night. His friends had woken up from the ruckus Sensei had created and now Taki was heating up the porridge she had made for Natsume, who was sitting on the table being scolded by a cat. “I can’t even get a wink of peaceful sleep around you.”

“He said he didn’t mean any harm,” Natsume tried, only to be treated by one of Sensei’s painful glares. He had explained the gist of what happened, and that the youkai called Haru wanted to meet with him.

“We can go with you,” Tanuma offered.

“No!” Natsume and Nyanko-sensei said simultaneously. Tanuma jerked.

Sensei clicked his tongue. “I don’t need another human to look after. One is already a handful.”

“What if something happened?” Tanuma said.

“Well you wouldn’t be able to do anything about it.”

“Should we call Natori-san?” Taki asked from the stove.

“Don’t,” Natsume said. He could already picture the actor’s face. That strained smile on his picture-perfect face. One lecture was enough. Natsume didn’t need another one.

“Well at least he could be more sensible than you sometimes.”

Natsume frowned, though there was nothing he could say to that.

Taki turned off the stove and brought Natsume his porridge. It warmed him up, driving away the last of his fever. None of them initiated another debate as they let him eat, knowing there was nothing they could say to change his mind.

When morning came, Natsume walked through town with Nyanko-sensei in search of a store called Old Roots. Tanuma and Taki had looked at him with concern and they made him promise not to do anything rash and to come back if he felt faint again. Natsume, in return, had promised to be careful.

But no matter how far they walked, and how many people he asked, no one had heard the name of that store before, to the point Nyanko-sensei started grumbling about not to trust what youkai said.

Natsume listened to him bicker for a while, but as they turned around a corner, a familiar face entered his line of sight. Aki-senpai was sweeping the pavement in front of a store, the words on the nameplate spelled Chiba’s Collectibles.

As though drawn by supernatural instinct, Aki-senpai looked up and their eyes met.

“Natsume-kun?!” He sounded surprised, though maybe not as surprised as Natsume felt over this weird coincidence. He nodded his greeting as he approached his senpai. “What are you doing here?”

“I’m looking for a store.” He paused, glancing down at Nyanko-sensei, who seemed to silently tell him to do what he needed to do. “Something called Old Roots?”

Aki-senpai tilted his head to the side. “You mean our store?”

Natsume blinked, uncomprehending. He looked up at the storefront sign again, and indeed, it was called Chiba’s Collectibles.

“Ah,” Aki-senpai said, following his line of sight. “Yeah, that’s what we’ve been calling it since Grandma passed away. Old Roots was the name Grandma gave it.”

“I see.”

The store looked like an antique store. The wooden front door looked ancient. The name looked to be written in archaic, cursive calligraphy. On the window display were china plates and old fans, with pots and vases and a maneki neko doll at the center. 

Aki-senpai opened the front door with a rattle, inviting him in. Natsume stared at the open doorway for a while, then willed himself to enter the store, Sensei following behind.

The store smelled of old and aging wood. It reminded him of the mountains at the back of his hometown, where he would find his youkai friends gathered on daylights. Natsume could see various objects on the shelves lining the walls—from bowls and pots to dolls and paintings. Mannequins stood in a corner wearing ancient Japanese armors, their swords and spears and bows hanging on the wall. Glass cases dividing the room into aisles contained smaller trinkets like hairpins and scrolls and watches.

A small sitting area stood at the back of the store, at the corner across from the cash register counter, between a set of stairs leading to a second floor and a door leading to a backroom.

“What brings you here, Natsume-kun?” Aki-senpai asked after offering Natsume a seat.

“Um—” What should he say? He had thought the store belonged to Haru, or other youkai, or someone with the Sight like an exorcist or people who dealt with magical objects. He hadn’t expected it to belong to a normal human, much less someone he knew.

“Don’t tell me,” Aki-senpai said before Natsume had formulated his answer. He suddenly leaned closed, his eyes glinting in understanding as a grin stretched across his face. “Did you really want to join our club?”

Natsume stared, dumbstruck. For a moment, he wondered what his senpai meant, before the events of the day before returned to his mind. The club at the disused storage room in the middle of a copse of trees—the dusted books and shelves, and the people playing shogi. He had completely forgotten about it.  

“Then again,” Aki-senpai went on without waiting for his reply, “you wouldn’t have known I work here.” The thought made him pause, and he leaned against his broom. His eyes narrowed as he stared Natsume down. “How did you learn about Old Roots?”

I heard it from a youkai, Natsume wanted to say, but would his senpai even believe him?

But then Aki-senpai said something that froze him on the spot: “Did Haru tell you?”

Natsume whipped his head up and met Aki-senpai’s stern and unwavering gaze. He hadn’t heard wrong.

“Do you know Haru, Senpai?” he asked.

“Of course. He’s our shiki.”

Shiki.

The unexpected use of the word rendered Natsume speechless. Aki-senpai had a shiki. 

“How did you know Haru, Natsume-kun?” Aki-senpai went on.

Natsume shook his head. “I don’t know him.”

“Then why was he looking for you?”

“What?” That was news to him. He looked to the ground, but Nyanko-sensei was nowhere to be found. The cat probably knew about it. That was why he had been at school the other day.

Aki-senpai’s lips pressed to a thin line, but his eyes stayed on Natsume as he leaned his broom against the wall and took a seat across from him. “He came to me one day and asked me about a boy called Natsume. He told me, you go to our college. I said I don’t know him. He asked me to find out about you.”

Did that mean Aki-senpai approached him not because of the club but because a youkai asked him to?

The thought made him pause.

Had Haru been in that clubroom?

There were five people—six including him. Among them were Aki-senpai, Aoi and the delinquent playing shogi, the girl on the phone, and—

Just as the thought entered his mind, Natsume heard footsteps coming in from the backroom, and a familiar voice he had heard the night before reached his ears.

“Aki, don’t be like that.”

Natsume turned and found the boy with the black hair and gray eyes standing over the threshold—the person he had seen in the clubroom yesterday, who had been standing over the shogi players and watching them play. The person who had stared intently at him, causing the sickening feeling in his stomach.

The youkai, Haru, smiled apologetically. “I’m sorry, Natsume-sama, for coming to you so intrusively.”

From across the table, Aki-senpai scoffed. “You call him with honorifics but not me?”

“You told me not to, Aki,” Haru said.

Aki-senpai frowned. They stared each other down, not entirely in animosity—Natsume couldn’t quite put his finger on it.

Aki-senpai was the first to break eye contact and sighed. He stood up from his chair. “Take your time. The shop won’t be open for another couple hours.” And then he went over to the backroom with a promise to bring tea.

Natsume was halfway up his chair, halfway saying, “You don’t have to, Senpai—” but Aki-senpai had already disappeared.

“Don’t worry about him, Natsume-sama,” the youkai said, his eyes still trailing over his master’s back. “He’s only feeling somewhat rivaled.”

“Rivaled?!”

Haru chuckled. “He’ll be over it at the end of the day.”

That didn’t ease his anxiety though Natsume had no room to argue. Haru sat on the seat Aki-senpai had vacated and Natsume followed him, glancing sideways toward the backroom once. The youkai noticed this.

“It’s the first time Aki meets someone his age with spiritual power,” Haru explained. “All he’s known were his immediate family, and several patrons who come looking for magical objects—yes, the antique store is only a front for the magical objects they deal with,” he added when Natsume raised his brows. “The rivalry he feels may stem from what pride he has as a youkai specialist—though Aki isn’t a particularly prideful person. Or…” Haru paused, laughing quietly under his breath. “Well, he might be afraid of me leaving him to follow you.”

Natsume blinked, uncomprehending. “Why would he think that?”

Haru looked at him and Natsume noticed the faraway look in his eyes and the longing in his smile. “Because, Natsume-sama,” he finally said, “You are Reiko’s grandson.”

Haru confirmed that Reiko was his former master, though Reiko had claimed she had never bound him to her. “She named me, you see, saying the name was gift,” he said with a light-hearted chuckle. “I don’t think she knew very well the power of naming a youkai. Especially with a power like hers.”

“Hmph, sounds very much like the Reiko I know,” Nyanko-sensei said. The cat, who apparently had been exploring the store, had finally joined them. He had looked at Haru with narrowed eyes and Haru had nodded his head in meek greeting.

“I’m sorry for causing an alarm,” Haru had said.

Nyanko-sensei had only grunted, before taking his place on the chair by Natsume’s side.

Haru chuckled. “Yes, a peculiar human she was—Reiko.” His voice was so soft, so gentle, as though speaking of something precious. But then his eyes grew dark and drawn and his smile was tinged with sorrow.

“The moment Reiko died—I felt it—like a snap in the bond I had come to cherish over the years since our meeting.

“It was an order,” he went on. “The only thing stopping me from going after her was her order for me to stay behind and protect Aki’s family.”

Natsume let the thought sink in. “Then, does the contract still stand?”

Haru gauged his response, before saying, “I believe it does. I thought it was gone the moment Reiko died, but apparently, I was still connected by a sliver of a thread to her daughter. But her power was too weak, our bond too thin, that I never felt it. Until several years after Aki was born that the contract snapped into place again.”

“So,” Natsume said after a while, “if I were to order you—”

“Then I would be compelled to follow.”

The depth of the situation finally dawning on him, Natsume understood why Aki-senpai had acted the way he had. For the blood relative of a former master to appear, carrying a long-forgotten contract…

“Had none of Aki-senpai’s family ever renewed the bond?” he asked. Because Natori had told him once, that the contract could be inherited, or even made new, by someone with strong power.

Haru shook his head. “Chieko, Aki’s grandmother, never did, in respect to Reiko’s wishes. While in Aki’s parents’ case—I might have stayed long enough that both of them have forgotten I was not bound to them.”

“So you stayed here of your volition?” Nyanko-sensei asked. “Not bound to anyone but your own will?”

Haru nodded, prompting Nyanko-sensei to scoff. “Silly. You’ve attached yourself to humans who would be gone in a blink of an eye.”

“I could say the same thing to you,” Haru said evenly. “Isn’t that why you’re here? Putting such a strong barrier no other ayakashi could come and harm him.”

“I am the master in our relationship, not the other way around.”

“Semantics. Have you never gone to his aid then, without a thought of who’s the master and who’s the servant—with your heart roaring when you see him hurt?”

Nyanko-sensei’s eyes glinted under the light. His voice had dropped several octaves when he spoke next. “He is my prey and mine alone. I will not let other ayakashi eat him.”

They stared at each other, the air between them thick and charged with electricity. Natsume wasn’t sure what was happening. It was not the same sort of exchange he had seen between Nyanko-sensei and other shiki. A fight would break, and not just any skirmishes his guardian had had before.

Natsume touched his pelt. He felt Sensei start, so soft he could have missed it, but the bristle that had slowly begun along his spine died down. Nyanko-sensei was the first to break eye contact, looking away with an irritated huff.

“We’re not so different, you and I,” Haru went on, “when all we wish is to keep our humans safe.”

Nyanko-sensei didn’t say anything.

Natsume stared at him for a couple moments before looking up to meet Haru’s eyes. “What did you wish to show me, Haru?”

The youkai looked at him again, before shifting his gaze toward his laced fingers on the tabletop. “Reiko met Chieko shortly after she arrived in the city,” he began. “She already had a daughter by then. And her body had already begun to break.”

~~~

The moon was low. Reiko lay on her side. Blood trickled down the corner of her lips as her chest heaved with difficulty. Her child. Where was her child? She tried to look but her eyelids were heavy. How did she get here? All she remembered was traveling down the hill, her hand grasping the small hand of her daughter’s, before a coughing fit shook her, and she stumbled. Her sides ached, her head pounded.

Had it all been a dream? Had she dreamed of having a daughter and dreaming of a future in peace?

Or had her daughter abandoned her like everyone else in her life? A good-for-nothing mother like her. She couldn’t even raise her child. She couldn’t give her a proper house proper meal like everyone else.

A light shone above her. A hand, bony and wrinkled, grasped her face, cupping her chin. Tsk, tsk, it went. You have death on your door, child. You don’t have long.

Reiko fought to open her eyes.

A curse has bound itself to you. A forbidden magic you have done.

The wrinkled hand touched her forehead.

A cherished object.

Another tsk. The hand caressed her face, and when it spoke, its voice was soft.

Poor child. No amount of healing spells can save you—unless you return those which you have taken.

***

“A curse,” Natsume echoed, interrupting Haru’s story. The heart of his heart already knew the answer, even before Haru nodded and said,

“The Book of Friends.”

Forbidden magic.

Natsume’s mind brought him back to a dim room in Natori’s place. He had asked the exorcist’s help to reseal a youkai, and after it had been done, the conversation had taken a turn to the rules in place for exorcism.

When an exorcist makes a contract of mastery with an ayakashi, Natori had said, they should never bind their real name. Some of the most dangerous can even curse people who aren’t involved.

“That book bound their true names to her life force,” Haru went on. “Not only had it taken a toll to her body, it was something that should never have been done, and the act, by itself, cursed her.”

***

That night, her daughter, who had gone in search of help, brought Chieko to where her mother lay. Chieko was, in fact, skilled in the arts of healing, but even Chieko could only slow the curse’s progression.

Haru met Reiko not long afterwards and stayed with her long after she named him. It didn’t take long for him to find out about her illness.

She lived with Chieko’s family for a couple years—said the medicine worked well. Her body hadn’t hurt as much. But sometimes in the middle of the night, when she thought everyone was asleep, Haru would see her body bent, her hair matted with sweat, as cough after cough took over her body. And when she pulled her hand from her mouth, he’d seen them covered in blood.

Still, she stayed. Haru suspected the reason was because Chieko and her husband had been so welcoming that when it would have been time for her to leave, she’d find herself saying, ‘just one more day. Let me stay here just one more day.’ Then one day became one week, and one week became one month, one month became one year.

Until one day, the curse began to spread, and not just in her own body.

“I’m leaving, Haru,” Reiko said one night in their room. The light had gone out. Everyone was fast asleep. Rain poured outside, masking their conversation.

Haru shook his head. “Chieko said not to leave.”

Reiko laughed under her breath. “I don’t live by Chieko’s rules.”

Haru frowned. He’d heard them earlier, downstairs in the kitchen, talking in hushed voices. The curse was spreading, and not just in her own body. Chieko’s son had gotten sick with a high fever and coughing fit that had lasted for more than two weeks.

“You don’t know if it’s because of the curse,” Haru argued.

“You don’t know if it’s not,” Reiko said. “The doctors didn’t find anything wrong with him, yet he’s been bedridden for weeks. Don’t tell me it’s not because of me.”

“It’s not!”

Reiko put a finger to her lips. She didn’t want to wake the others, but Haru didn’t care. Let him wake the others. Let the others put some sense in this human’s head.

“Then let me come with you.”

“I can’t. I need you to stay.”

He had been ready for that. Please take care of Haru for me. That’s what Reiko had asked Chieko. She had meant to leave him.

“You need me to protect you, Reiko.”

“I can take care of myself.”

“How?” he countered. “You’re halfway to the underworld and now you’re leaving in the middle of the night with a child and nowhere to go. How can you take care of yourself?”

Reiko gave him one of her infuriating smiles that meant enough—that asked him not to ask questions and leave her be. But how could he? How could he when she was his master and him her servant—when ever since the day Reiko named him, his sole purpose had been to protect her?

“I need you to protect Chieko and her family.”

“They’re strong!”

“Not strong enough.” Reiko’s smile turned wistful; her eyes drawn. “Chieko saved me, Haru. She accepted me when no one ever had. She welcomed me to her home, and her family, and now look what I’ve brought her.” Her laugh was self-deprecating and it grated in his ears.

It’s not your fault, he wanted to say, but he knew it was a vain attempt when her heart was already set.

“Where are you going?” he asked instead, though his heart ached in his chest.

“I don’t know,” she said. “Find a peaceful place to settle down? Away from the eyes and ears of humans and youkai.” Not much of an answer, but that only told him the extent of her plan.

“Will you do it for me?” she asked him after a while. “Make sure Chieko’s child lives and none of my illnesses get to them? Make sure they’re happy, and healthy, and no harm comes to them? You’re the only one I can ask of this.”

He couldn’t say no, even if he wanted to. A final order. She had never claimed mastery of him, but Haru still found himself following her.

So he nodded, and she smiled, brighter this time. She pulled him to her and pressed her lips to his forehead.

“When you meet my grandson, please tell him I’m sorry,” she whispered. “Tell him I’m sorry I’ve left him with such a huge burden.”

~~~

Natsume opened his eyes to dim light. A quiet stillness enveloped his surroundings. He smelled the scent of incenses, like the ones he would find in temples or rituals. He was lying on his back on a soft mattress. His fingers tingled as they slowly regained their senses. His blurry eyes sharpened, and he noticed the wooden beams on the ceiling. His ears picked up a soft drizzle against the window outside.

“Natsume-sama?”

The familiar voice drew his attention and Haru entered his line of sight—the older version of the twelve-year-old boy he had only seen moments ago. He sat cross-legged beside him, gray eyes staring at him.

Natsume blinked back the tears he hadn’t realized he had shed, covering his eyes with the back of his hand as he took a deep, shaking breath. Haru’s emotions from the memory had been so raw. He wondered if the sadness he felt then was his own or the youkai’s. It truly felt as though he had been there, trying to stop Reiko from leaving.

“I didn’t know youkai could grow,” was the first thing Natsume said.

Silence, before Haru let out a soft laughter under his breath. “I started changing my appearance ever since Aki was born,” he said. “I wanted to grow with him.”

Natsume’s lips tugged into a smile as he took another shuddering breath. He could see her behind his eyelids, her face gaunt, her cheeks hollow. Reiko was thin. Too thin. And weak. And frail. He wondered where the bright spark that had lived in infamy in the memories of youkais had gone.

And the little girl sleeping beside her. His mother. Barely six or seven years old.

He could see Reiko in front of him then, staring at him with that same sad and resigned expression she had given Haru.

I’m sorry I left you with a huge burden.

“Do you know where she’d gone?” he asked the youkai.

“No,” Haru said quietly. “When I asked, all she said was a mountain she wanted to see one last time.”

A mountain. There were a lot of mountains in Japan.

A peaceful place to settle down. Away from the eyes and ears of humans and youkai.

A tree.

The door slid open.

Natsume uncovered his eyes, letting his arm fall onto his chest. Nyanko-sensei came, followed by Aki-senpai carrying a tray of steaming soup and a glass of hot green tea. He looked happy to see Natsume awake.

“Do you often faint, Natsume-kun?” he asked, helping Natsume sit up.

“Often?” Nyanko-sensei scoffed from beside the futon. “This guy faints every time an ayakashi does something to him.”

“That doesn’t sound good.” Aki-senpai looked at Natsume then, concerned. “I can look up some medicine if you want. We have lots of books dealing with these kinds of stuff.”

“You don’t have to, Senpai,” Natsume said with a small smile.

But Aki-senpai only laughed, waving his hand in dismiss. “Don’t be so stiff. It’s the least I can do.” His lips stretched thinly then, and he dipped his head in apology. “I’m sorry if I made you uncomfortable before, Natsume-kun. It’s just…I’ve never met someone my age who can see youkai, and I figured you’re technically his master and all, and…” His voice trailed off, his ears reddening. “Anyway, I’ll find a book that can help you!”

He jumped to his feet and rushed out the door. Aki-senpai was gone before Natsume could even say a word. Haru chuckled beside him.

Natsume glanced at him, then at Sensei, who was pawing the lid off Natsume’s bowl of soup, saying something about eating his meal if Natsume didn’t want it. Natsume imagined what he would do if there ever came a time when Nyanko-sensei would have to leave him for good. Not to another master—as Natsume couldn’t imagine Nyanko-sensei actually having a master—but maybe something else that would draw the cat away from him, never to return.

He didn’t like that.

“Haru,” Natsume said. The youkai looked at him, questioningly. “Would you like me to release you?”

Haru stared, eyes blinking in surprise. He hadn’t expected that, it seemed, but Natsume wanted to do it. Reiko was gone. Haru didn’t have any ties with him. An age-old order that had slowly transformed into his own will.

Haru was Aki-senpai’s guardian. There was no denying that.

Natsume felt Nyanko-sensei stare.

“I’ve done the ritual before,” he added. “I know how to do it.”

Haru gazed at him for another silent moment, before his mouth finally spread into a small, genuine smile. He bowed.

“Please do, Natsume-sama.” 

~ END ~

[forgottenyogurtgods]

Summary: A simple collection of quick fics for somewhat interconnected. 100 prompts, 100 Saturdays.

Master List

Oh! You Pretty Things

Prompt 8 — 43. Nature’s Fury

He hadn't been planning on going out. It had just happened. He'd gotten fed up with everything and needed a run, that was the truth.

And now it was pouring, and there was thunder and lightning, and he wasn't a happy kitty cat.

Grumbling as he slipped — once again — on the slick surface of a rooftop. He pushed himself back to his feet and shook his head. His hair was far too wet and clung to his skin afterwards.

He used to like the rain. It had been peaceful, lying on the floor next to his mother and listening to the pitter patter of the heavy drops on the roof and windows. It used to make him sleepy.

After becoming Chat Noir, thunderstorms like this one kept him on edge. He wasn't sure why — animal instinct, if he had to take a guess — but he wasn't a fan of it. He didn't think he could ever be again.

The sliding of an opening window caught his attention. He peeked over the edge of the railing lining the roof and saw the familiar face of his classmate.

“Chat Noir?” she said, just loud enough to be heard over the rain. Lightning cracked across the sky, illuminating her pale face. Thunder rumbled in the distance.

“Can I come in?” he said. He sounded much more miserable than he intended, by her reaction. She nodded and ducked back through the window, leaving it open for him.

He followed her in, staying close to the window and watching as she brought him a couple (half dozen) towels. He dried off his suit first — which didn't take long and then his hair. Marinette giggled when she saw him wrap it around his head like he'd seen women do in movies.

It didn't stay.

“Bend forward,” she said, taking the towel from him. She did it up around his head quick enough. It was something magical and marvelous, a trick only those with long hair seemed to be able to perform. The only bad thing was the muffled hearing he now had.

She looked at him more seriously than she had a moment before — a little angrier too.

“What are you doing out at a time like this?” she said. “It's pouring dogs and cats — almost literally out there — and you're running around from rooftop to rooftop like a maniac. What if you slipped and fell and got hurt?”

“Is my princess worried about me?” he said, mostly teasing and hoping to get a little of a rise out of her.

“Yes!”

That… that startled him.

“I'm sorry to have worried you, Princess. Your knight just needed to vent some frustrations. I hadn't meant to get caught outside when it started pouring. I'm glad it's you who let me in. I've never had a towel turban before.”

She looked as though she was about to say something else, but, instead, she tossed her hands in the air and collapsed in the chaise lounge in her room.

“When the storm’s over,” she said, “leave. Your presence is absolutely draining.”

“I will not purr-den you any more than necessary. Mother Nature is rather fur-ious. I wonder what could have happened.”

“She got tired of your puns. They're terrible. Get some new material.”

“I would, but by the looks of your room, you've bought it all already.”

She tossed a pillow at him. Hard.

It seemed as though Mother Nature wasn't the only one who was furious that evening.

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