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greenninjagal-blog · 5 years ago

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The Space Between Us

Alien au? Alien au! I have no self control! Please accept this one shot that quickly spiraled into 23 pages of Virgil being a disaster in space. (If you guys enjoy it, let me know because I’m considering making it a series.)

Summary: The cosmos is a Gigantic place and somehow Virgil’s past still catches up to him.

Words: 11400

TW: Human trafficking, Human experimentation, dehumanization, fighting rings,

Quick taglist: @chelsvans @dante-reblogs @dwbh888 @glitchybina @faithfulcat111 @felicianoromano @harrypotternerdprincess @holliberries @jemthebookworm @killerfangirl3 @mrbubbajones @musical-nerd18 @nonasficcollection @stricken-with-clairvoyancy @the-sunshine-dims @themagicheartmailman @themultishipperchild @thenaiads @treasureofpriam @vianadraws @welovelogansanders

Read on Ao3 || General Writing Masterlist

“Tell me again why this is absolutely necessary?” Virgil asked, watching Logan’s hands dance across the console. On any other day the sight would be comforting. Every time his digits landed on a key, his nerves glowed with sparks of multicolored light through his transparent crystal skin, creating a beautiful firework show right in front of them all. Logan had told him once it was called Lightdancing, an evolutionary adaptation of the Tenkarie people: their bodies were near invisible in dim light, and they could control the pulses of light just enough to attract other cave dwelling creatures to them before striking the killing blow.

Now, though, the sight made Virgil’s stomach churn. Logan’s lights were a calculated system that he had trained to hone better than most of his race: he could make any part of his body glow at a brightness ranging from a flickering candle light to a flood light, he could make his whole body radiate or he could make just the tip of one of his sixteen fingers, he could even change the color of the light with just a thought. Virgil had always been glad that Logan was the only Tenkarie that dared venture from their caves on L0-G1C; Logan’s kind had perfected the use lights and dancing which made all other creatures become so nauseated they couldn’t fight back or become so mesmerized by the swirling motions that they didn’t see the attacks.

(Of course, because Virgil was rather distinctly human, it took longer for either of the effects of Logan’s fighting to work, which had saved both their lives more than once.)

However, in contrast to the usual focus of Logan’s fingertips on the control panel, lights were flickering all over his body, up and down each of his four arms and burning from the notches around his neck. The lack of control was enough to make Virgil’s stomach churn.

“Because its Remus,” Roman replied, although it didn’t help that he said his brother's name the same way he might have said puppy kicker.

“And we care about Remus because....?” Virgil prompted, running his fingers over his satchel again, checking the latches to make sure they were still there, still closed, still containing the supplies within. “If my memory serves me correctly, Remus was the one that set us up to be ambushed by those space pirates the other week. You know, the ones that nearly killed Patton?”

“We care because, in Erefrenian customs, blood bonds are the most sacred of bonds.” Logan supplied distractedly. “And Remus invoked the Oath of Brothers, which means that if Roman were to ignore his call for aid, Roman’s honor would be forever stained which would prevent him from crossing to the planes of heroes after his death according to the religion of his people.”

“Yeah that,” Roman says, even less excited than Logan at the idea. The bone spikes along his spine had been secreting that red poison that usually only happened when he got annoyed or anxious. Virgil had learned quickly to stay away from him when he was like that: touching it merely made Virgil’s limbs feel pins and needles, but the Orlun thief had screamed until unconsciousness.

It was one of the (very) few perks of being a Deathworlder, Virgil supposed. Most of the things that hurt the other species out here usually had a looser effect on humans because humans rarely made it this far. In fact, it was illegal for humans to get this far by at least sixty doctrines (all of which Logan had filed away in his room).

Humans were juggernauts-- the alien versions of the boogie man told to children to keep them from acting out. Virgil had seen some of the written documents about his kind, and the tales of bloodshed and terror invoked by merely existing were pretty horrifying. Graphic depictions of humans tearing aliens limb from limb, scientific studies on the amounts of chemicals that humans had absorbed and withstood against, an interview with a survivor of a human rampage who revealed the bite marks left by the so-called beast.

Almost every species out here was just as scared of him as he was of them.

The problem came from the ones that weren’t scared.

Which, of course, was how Virgil had ended up hundreds of literal light-years from Earth, on a ship with three aliens whom he was pretty certain he would end up dying for sometime very soon. Yurinks were crafty, shameless, bold, creatures, and they were notorious for visiting Earth and abducting humans for individual sale. Weslors ran fighting rings and humans were almost always the safest bets for some quick cash. Quitans were a fan of skinwearing, which was not something that Virgil ever wanted to see, based on the name alone. And Pol’turs loved learning how things worked and paid very handsome prices for human subjects on the space black market.

Virgil, himself, had sold for 300 griot. (Which was apparently a lot, based on the way that Patton’s eyes had quite literally bugged out. Virgil was still trying to figure out the conversation ratio of American dollars to griot and getting nowhere with it.)

“I hate him,” Roman said under his breath as he threaded through the spare armored uniforms in the storage, trying to find one to fit over the rigid bone plates along his back. His tail squirmed behind him as he searched, dragging the spikes through the air. “I hate him so much.” His bone claws cut through the fabric and he growled as he tossed the ruined clothes to the floor. “We’re gonna save him and then I’m going to toss him off into space, myself.”

Logan made an affirming noise, using his lower left arm to nudge his visor back up his nose. Virgil had only caught sight of Logan’s eyes once or twice, as most light strained his sensitive eyes. They had paid a pretty griot for a repair and a spare of his light blocking visor after the first time some space smugglers had surprised them and managed to break the lens. Logan’s pained scream was the worst thing that Virgil had ever heard and he had sworn he’d do anything to avoid ever having to hear it again.

(That had been the first time that Roman and him had truly worked together on something, Virgil noted absently. Between Virgil’s uncharacteristic bloodlust and Roman’s furious wrath they had taken out the smugglers in less than five minutes and they hadn't been very nice about it.)

Looking from the back, Roman resembled a stegosaurus to Virgil. If, like....stegosauruses ran around on two legs, flourished a sword, and were prone to acting like every minor occurrence was a slight against them personally. His red-ish skin had the appearance of leather but was twice as thick, his bone plates were slimmer rounded triangles than Virgil remembered from his kindergarten picture books but they ran from the based of his neck all the way down his back and to the tips of his tail which he liked to use as a spike-ball-and-chain attack along with his ridiculous sword. Virgil couldn’t count the number of times that Roman had nearly taken him out along with the enemy. His claws were only a few inches long but Roman whined like a baby when they broke-- which was ridiculous because his bone plates literally grew back overnight, and the ones on his forearms were made to be taken off and thrown. (Logan had indeed informed Virgil that Erefren grow new bones every moon cycle and proceeded to lose the old ones which Virgil had then mentioned that humans did that too sorta! With their baby teeth! And Roman and Logan had both looked unnerved by that information.)

“I’ve got it!” A voice sang from the ceiling, which was about all the warning Virgil got before a child sized figure vaulted down from the rafters of the teleportation deck right onto his shoulders.

“Jesus! Pat!” Virgil yelled as he stumbled swaying to accommodate the new weight that had stuck itself to Virgil’s back and then wrapped around to hug his chest. “Give a guy a warning, will you?”

Patton giggled, hooking his legs around Virgil’s waist so that he could sit comfortably, swinging the two other satchels he had been sent to fetch from his hands. Roman accepted one of them readily.

“What's a Jeeezus?” Patton asked, stressing the syllables as English terms never really fit right in his tongue. As far as Virgil was aware no species were equipped to speak human languages, although Roman’s Erefren dialect involved some rolling syllables. He probably could have picked up Spanish, if Virgil hadn’t barely passed Spanish III with a C minus.

To be fair though, that year had been bad. Janus had been in his class, and then he hadn’t. And it was hard to focus on conjugation of verbs when the golden student of the entire school who had sat next to him had been declared dead and Virgil had been the prime suspect of it.

That, and Virgil was pretty terrible at picking up new languages. He had only managed to figure out how to communicate with Logan by luck: hands raised with the fingers spread was a symbol of innocence and fear for the Tenkarie, while a sign of rage and fury for Yurink. This, of course, had also been in the middle of an illegal Weslor fighting ring which Logan had been dragged into and essentially sentenced to die in after being separated from Roman and Patton.

(Virgil tried not to think too much about those days. Alien blood was still blood and it was very not-good to feel dripping from his hands, even if it was him or them, even if it had been his life on the line, even if it wasn’t another human with heterochromic eyes and smug smirk. Virgil had fought nearly six times before Logan had been his opponent, and that was six times too many.)

Regardless, Virgil was lucky that when Roman and Patton had come for Logan, Logan had remembered his reluctance to fight and insisted that Virgil come with them in an escape. Roman and Patton had their hesitations but Logan wouldn’t take no for an answer.

(And Virgil who did not understand Common, had honestly thought that Logan had come back to kill him officially. Not a good first impression.)

Logan had made him flashcards to study from and taught him common in the sitting area of their ship. The endless hours of memorization, the drills, the sentences, all of which helped him more than he thought the others knew. They were something to do with his mind and Virgil had been in desperate need of something to do with his mind those first few months that wasn’t thinking about Earth or home or boys who were dead.

“We could go to Earth,” Logan had offered once during one of their sessions.

Virgil had blinked looking up to from the practice reading he had been studying with a bewildered look. “What?” It had taken a moment for him to realize that he had spoken in English rather than Common, but Logan must have picked up on the meaning of the foreign word anyway.

“You were… badly, ah, stolen,” Logan had said, pointing at the flashcards. “We could give you back.” He had used his lower two arms to mimic the motion of handing something off.

It had been so touching, the way that he had scaled down his speech to match Virgil’s progress, had offered despite Earth being the infamous Deathworld, had been looking at Virgil like he was living being and not just some animal. Virgil had cried.

He should have wanted to go back to Earth, should have wanted to go home, but instead he had begged in his broken, garbled Common for Logan to let him stay in space with them. And Logan had glowed nearly blindingly with purple light, a relief light, a content light, a happy light and promised that he wouldn’t have to go back if he didn’t want to.

Perhaps that had been the day the Virgil had realized he’d die for Logan.

And once Virgil had decided that for Logan it wasn’t hard to decide it for Patton too. The Reytin was just so nice. Even back in those first months when Virgil didn’t know how to talk to them and Patton had been so obviously terrified of him, the alien had made sure that Virgil was eating, that he was sleeping, that he had space when he needed it. Though, Virgil really suspected that their friendship had blossomed so quickly because of Patton's rare Reytin ability to see emotions with his frog-like eyes. Once he realized that Virgil was actually terrified of everything, and it wasn’t just ploy to kill them (or maybe despite that….Virgil hadn’t gotten a straight answer from him), Patton had done his best to befriend him back to good health.

And Virgil liked being on the ship. He liked his room, which was filled with stupid alien plants he had managed to collect and the weird shapes of the bed. He liked being right down the hall from the kitchen so he could smell when Patton was cooking something, and the way that he could always hear Roman singing in his room. He liked slipping out to the observation deck and just seeing Space the way no other human really had.

(Its stupid really, that sometimes he forgot it had been three years. Its stupid really, that sometimes he still turned to ask a question of someone who was never going to be there. Its stupid really that he could be so happy and still feel the gaping hole where someone used to be.)

“Oh this is so exciting!” Patton said happily, shaking his hands in the air to show his excitement. “Isn’t this exciting, guys?”

“Exciting isn’t the word I would use,” Virgil said hoisting the smaller creature from around his waist to settle him on the floor carefully.

“More like Vexing! Or perhaps burdensome! Irksome! Problematic!” Roman snarled, finally finding the armor that would fit around his plates and slipping it on. “You know what? Let’s forget it! Remus got himself into this mess and he can get himself out!”

“Now kiddo…” Patton warned, and wow, Virgil sometimes forgot that the alien who was half Virgil's height and twice as lively, was also older than all of them combined. Reytin lifespans were literally off the chart. Patton had been around way back when humans were first declared illegal on this side of the cosmos. “You know that we can’t do that! He invoked the Oath of Brothers so we have to!”

“We don’t have to do anything,” Roman griped. “Worse case, my soul just becomes eternally damned and I’m shamed by the rest of my race until I die a lonely, lonely death on some distant planet!”

“Must you be so dramatic?” Logan asked.

“You won't die alone!” Patton said, “We’ll be right there with you! Probably even die right next to you as well!”

“No offense Pat,” Roman said glumly, “But that makes me feel like I’m gonna be the cause of your death.”

“It’ll be fun!”

Thankfully before Roman could explain exactly there was nothing fun about making all his friends die, Logan cleared his throat and made his upper two palms glow with a soft blue light. Green and pink bulbs flashed up and down his neck. “I have mapped out the perceived trajectory of the enemy ship so we should be able to beam directly into the hold. However because of possible miscalculations I believe that I should be--”

“--The first to beam aboard as I am the only one who is not affected by the lack of gaseous properties and the extreme temperatures of the expanse of space.” Roman, Patton, and Virgil chorused together.

“Must you all?” Logan asked, with just enough fondness in his tone for Virgil to know that he wasn’t actually bothered.

“Change up your speech sometime, Teach,” Roman suggested, and then he sighed dropping his head. “You guys are really willing to do this for me? These are mercenaries, you know. If this doesn’t go well they’ll likely sell us for parts.”

Virgil really didn’t need the reminder. Just the thought of once again having his arms restrained, having his clothes striped away, being reduced from a person to a thing used for entertainment, was enough to have Virgil eyeing the door back to the rest of the ship. Even on the off chance that they didn’t try to take him apart to see how he ticked, they would still sell him for griot. He wouldn’t, couldn’t, survive being thrust back into the fighting rings. He’d shake himself apart before they managed to drag him into that dust riddled death trap.

Patton reached up and tugged the edge of Virgil’s under armor tunic, drawing his eyes away from the door and down to his friend. Patton, of course, was smiling, imitating the human action of bearing his teeth (something that Logan had explained was incredibly threatening to all other species and you may want to avoid participating in that activity with Roman in the vicinity, Virgil).

It was silly things like that that make Virgil hopelessly certain that he would do anything to protect his friends. He didn’t need to worry about being caught and sold off because the others wouldn’t let that happen again, and in turn, he wouldn’t allow them to be taken away either. They were a family, for better or worse.

(He wasn’t going to lose someone again. Not like before. Not without a fight, a trace-- not without Virgil doing every single thing he could to get them back first.)

“We’ll be fine!” Patton told Roman brightly.

“Yeah, cheer up, Princey,” Virgil added, hooking his satchel over his shoulder, “Worse case scenarios are my thing.” He offered out a folded fist, palm up and Roman dutifully knocked his own knuckles against it, as an upside down fistbump (a signal of friendship in Erefrenian).

Patton let out a chittering and jumped up to knock his own knuckles with them. And Logan’s left forearms flickered pastel pink from the wrist up to his neck and he begrudgingly added his own to the pile.

“Everyone remembers their part of the plan, correct?” Logan asked, letting his two lower arms finish typing a final sequence into the control panel.

Patton sprung in the air, jumping Virgil’s entire height, and shook his palms. “I’ve got the emergency pods and the armory, using Virgil’s thingies to shut down the access to the lower rooms and blocking off escapes as I make my way to the medic bay!”

“I’ve got the crew quarters to where I’ll use Virgil’s thingies--”

“Can we not call them thingies?” Virgil grumbled. “They’re just EMPs. Barely enough to take out the door locks. And it's likely they won’t do much of anything if this group has an emergency system reboot in case of an electrical surge. It’ll buy us five minutes, max.”

“--Virgil’s thingies,” Roman repeated with his tail rattling in that way that said he took pleasure in Virgil’s annoyance. “To lock as many of the doors as I can, before travelling to the cell blocks to get my brother and his crew and move them to the medic bay where Patton will have the necessary supplies ready incase of injuries.”

“I will take the Bridge,” Logan said, “and act as the major distraction, as Tenkarie are very rare and it is likely that they will have never encountered nor have preemptive measures against my Lightdancing. Once I have control of the bridge I will cut off the communications to other ships in the area and start inputting the redirection course. Once I have the new coordinates I will send them to Virgil for him to implement.”

“I’ve got the engineering deck,” Virgil said, finally, “To make sure they don’t try to blow us all up with the warp core and whatever. Then I’ll redirect the teleporting course and get us home while the rest of you take out the bad guys. Piece of cake.”

Logan’s neck notches glowed red, “There should be no stopping for cake--.”

“Idiom,” Virgil interrupted quickly, “Human saying. Means it should be easy.”

Logan hummed musically, which sent a vibration of multicolored lights off his shoulders and down under his clothes. “Ah, interesting. This should indeed then be a piece of cake.” He picked up one of the teleportation bracelets from their charging pads and fixed it on his upper right wrist. “I’ve already added in the coordinates to the watches, so merely wait for my signal and press the button.”

Virgil would be lying if he said he didn’t have a little bit of anxiety over their plan. It was pretty slapshot compared to the things that they had put together before, but Remus’s transmission had been shoddy, even after Roman and his combined efforts to clean it up. It was hard to remember that Remus was every bit a ship captain as Roman was with how he had appeared in the picture dressed in ripped and tattered clothes, oozing green poison from his forearm plates, and bleeding profusely from a wound on his forehead. He had been leaning heavily on the communication panel, gritting his teeth through the pain, but his tail had been dancing in the air behind him in the same motions that Roman’s did when he saw a new sword to add to his collection.

Remus had invoked the Oath of Brothers, spit up blood on the console, and then relayed as much information as he could about the attacking ship. They were lucky, in that way. Most of the Pol’tur ships followed the same base model, which meant that the Bridge was always going to be at the bottom, the engines would be at the top and the engine core center would be between them.

If it was possible Virgil was sure they all would have wanted more time to make a better plan, but they all knew that Pol’turs loved to work quickly. They had already lost three days chasing after the ship, and in that time, Pol’turs could cut apart fifty Reytins like Patton.

They were working mostly on the assumption that the Pol’turs would save Remus for near last, and they were going to be absolutely fucked if they had chosen to chop up the other Erefren first.

In addition, their plan had Virgil avoiding most of the fighting. well, as much as he could while being on an enemy ship. Virgil himself wasn’t sure how he would do in a lot of combat, but they had seen what happened when one of the others were in danger (when Logan’s glasses had broken, when the space pirates had almost shot Patton through both his hearts, when the spikes had been pulled from Roman’s spine by the Quitans before the new ones had grown in--). He could fight, and he could fight well, but the cost was a little bit of Virgil’s sanity and his ability to sleep through the night.

Patton plucked his own teleportation watch from the pad and hooked it on, before offering Virgil his. Well it wasn’t really his, the same way that the red one wasn’t Roman’s and Patton didn’t own the blue one. They were all Logan’s pet projects, but he had tailored them to their favorite colors. It felt a bit like coming home when Virgil clicked the locking mechanism into place and the screen lit up with the digital alien symbols.

“I shall see you all soon,” Logan said matter-of-factly, as if he couldn’t see all the ways that their plan could go wrong. Then with barely more than a breath he clicked the activation button and his form flickered out of existence.

Roman made a nervous noise with the back of his throat, which ended up sounding a bit like the first bars of a Disney song Virgil had forgotten. Virgil gently tapped his tail with the toe of his boot, avoiding the glisten poison spikes. Roman startled just enough to laugh.

“Its funny, you know?” He said, glancing towards Virgil. “A year ago Remus told me he had taken in a Deathworlder, and I thought he was crazy. A Deathworlder? But now that I know you guys I can’t believe I didn’t get my own sooner.”

“Remus has a human on his crew?” Virgil asked.

“Oh, I wonder if you know each other!” Patton added.

Virgil bit back his original comment, and let the weight settle in his stomach. If Remus had a human in his crew there was even more of a chance that Remus was dead, because the Pol’turs had chosen to save the mysterious human for last.

“Earth is a big place,” Virgil said instead. “Like really big. They’d probably be from like Russia or something.”

At the blank stares he got, Virgil tried rewording, “We probably never have met before. Or speak the same language.”

"There's more than one human language?"

Virgil breathed through his nose, warding off a memory of rolling Rs and failed pop quizzes. "Yeah," he said, "Humans can't agree on anything."

Roman thoughtfully crossed his arms, but Patton made a chittering again and bounced, “Oh well! Now you guys are gonna meet! All the way out in space! How cool is that?!”

Virgil hid a smile in his shoulder. Trust the Reytin to find the bright side to everything.

Roman looked like he had more questions (questions that Virgil wasn't exactly enthusiastic to answer; Earth was a sore topic for him) but mercifully each of their watches let out several musical bars from Patton’s favorite song. The alien shook his palms one last time, beaming at each of them.

“Oh this is gonna be so much fun, guys!” He said right before pressing the activation button and disappearing.

“I’m so going to kill Remus for this,” Roman grumbled, one hand on his sword hilt.

And, really, Virgil agreed with him on that. Tossing Remus into the airlock and ejecting him directly into the void sounded like an excellent plan for when they got back to their ship alive and whole and safe.

“Let’s do this,” Virgil said and jabbed his thumb into the activation button.

***

Predictably, their flimsy plan fell apart within seconds of them appearing on the ship. Starting with, exactly, Virgil did not appear in or near the engineering deck. Instead he had landed approximately two feet above a box in the Cargo hold of the Pol’turian ship, which likely meant he was somewhere left of where he needed to be.

It also meant that the Pol’turs in the Cargo Hold had a grand view of his body blitzing into existence, landing on a crate, and then tumbling off it with a lot of English cursing. It was a mere matter of luck that Virgil was able to roll his body to the side just before the first BZZZTTRRRT of their blasters went off.

(There was an actual name for the guns that most aliens used, and Virgil was pretty sure that it started with a hard K sound but he had never been able to remember it. He stuck to calling them blasters in his head, and hoped somewhere back on Earth George Lucas was proud of himself.)

The Polyfurnish of the crate hissed and sizzled as it took the brunt of the attack meant to vaporize Virgil, and the human hissed another curse as his hands dug through his satchel.

One of the Pol’turs-- the deep purple one although Virgil hadn’t truly been able to catch sight of how many there were-- shouted something in its language. Probably something along the lines of “Stop”, “Surrender”, or “Kill him”. Virgil wasn’t exactly a fan of any of those options.

He had heard them before-- too many times. The hundreds of variations of the terms spat and yelled and cheered down at him, and he scrambled away from the edge of a sword, as he tasted nothing by dust and dirt as he dodged another attempt on his life, as he desperately backed away from an opponent who couldn’t understand that Virgil didn’t want to fight, please, stop, please, I’m sorry, please I don’t want to hurt anyone--

Virgil curled up as another gold blast ricocheted off the top of the crate he was cowering behind. The air was cooler here, he told himself, the air was cooler and the floor was slicker, and he was surrounded by shelves of goods. He was not in a colosseum and he was not in a fighting ring and he was not alone.

He had the others to regroup with and no time to panic over the past here and now. Virgil gritted his teeth, remembering the feel of Roman’s knuckles bumping his, the sight of Logan’s excited lights, the sound of Patton’s laughter, and then his hand wrapped around the homemade smoke bombs in his satchel.

He yanked the pins from their sockets, wound back, and launched them over the crate into the mass of where all the shooting was coming from. Almost immediately the shoots veered off course, and the cavernous room echoed with high pitched screams. Virgil ripped his turtleneck up and over his nose and then he grabbed the edges of the nearest shelf and hoisted himself to a higher area, out of the range of the low hanging gas.

It was a pale red, near pink thing: a concoction formed by Logan out of Roman’s poison that had taken them literal years to perfect. Virgil was mostly immune to it, the same way he was mostly immune to most poisons that horrified the other species. Inhaling it made his head dizzy and his limbs a little numb, which was just unpleasant enough that he tried to avoid inhaling anything when he had the chance. Other species though...they weren’t so lucky. According to Logan, inhaling it allowed it directly into the bloodstream where it would swiftly ignite all the pain sensors in the body and could make one feel like they were being stabbed everywhere at once.

(He knew this, Logan admitted, because it had taken him many times to get it right. His scientific journals recorded experiments #1 through #357 as “unpleasant” and “ill-advised” and Virgil had nearly throttled him when he discovered that Logan had used himself as a test subject.)

Using the shelves he boosted himself another level until his head was parallel with a box of what he thought were floating Welsor hearts, before he scanned the ground under him. There were three Pol’turs on the ground writhing in pain, blasters discarded, and pale smoke floating ominous above them. Their usually languid tentacles flopped up and down on the floor like a bunch of fish out of water.

The glass container next to his hip exploded, missing him by mere millimeters. Virgil cursed as he scrambled up another level, eyes darting around to find where the hell that shot came from. His armor took much of the hit but it was sizzling with heat in a way that was decidedly not-comforting.

“Up there!” Something shouted.

Another blast missed his ear and a container of Sblorp fangs shattered and sent the teeth spilling to the floor. Virgil kicked his feet through the lower shelf pushing through a crate and a dozen jars of various indeterminable body parts and squeezed his body in the place of them. The crashes on the next isle were rather satisfying.

He ripped the pin from another smoke bomb with his teeth, and felt his tongue buzz slightly as the proximity to the toxin before he launched it out at the direction of the other shooter. There was another scream and Virgil took the time to roll into the next isle and leap back down to the floor.

The gas still hadn’t cleared around the original three Pol’turs, but they had gone unconscious from the pain, with a few seizing tentacles here and there. Virgil would feel bad about it, really he would, but the last time he had been in a room of Pol’turs they had been discussing how nicely his skull would look in the centerpieces of their tables and tried to buy him for 270 griot.

His skin tingled the same way he thought it might right before he would get struck by lightning back on Earth. Virgil ignored the feeling in honor of sliding across the polished flooring to the nearest fallen mercenary and hoisting it up as a shield, while he grabbed its blaster from the floor.

Two blaster shots sunk into his Pol’tur shield and it dissolved into ashes in his hand. Virgil cursed again, raising the blaster with his other arm and using his ash coated hand to slide the trigger, because this blaster-- like all other blasters-- were not made for human anatomy at all.

The last Pol’tur was a sickly orange color, like some type of invasive evil moss with long arms. Virgil grinned as the blast exploded forth in a dangerous golden ray of death. The heat singed the edge of his fingers, although the mild numbness prevented him from feeling much more than the slight pressure he assumed was warmth. The shot went wide, and the kickback sent Virgil to the floor, but it was enough.

The blast shattered though several items on the shelves and Pol’tur scrambled back to avoid the avalanche of perishables-- scrambled back right into the pink fog of Virgil's last smoke bomb. It was screaming before Virgil could even sit back up.

Virgil inhaled heavily, sucking as much oxygen into his lung as he could afford and breathing it out through his nose. He squeezed his hand around the handle of the blaster, and tried to pretend like his skin didn’t feel too small. His empty hand-- the one that had held the Pol’tur-- was trembling, shaking, burning.

“I just think you’d be better off spending time with someone else.”

“You’re not fooling anyone, Storm!”

“What was it like, Virgil? When you killed him?”

His hand was covered in soot, tingling from nerves and poison and the heat of the blast that had annihilated all evidence of the living, breathing alien.

“It wasn’t….” Virgil breathed heavily, “I didn’t….”

He sucked in another breath, two, three, seven breaths, until he could feel the masquerading gas in the air turn his face numb, and the voices in his head went back to threatening buzzing.

“Fuck,” he whispered softly, and pushed himself off the ground.

Virgil took the blaster with him, and made a private note to ask Logan to look into building communicators for times like this. There were an untold number of things that could have happened to get them mixed up: the Pol’tur ship could have barrel rolled at the time of, or before the final teleportation codes were in, it could have slowed or sped up, it could have marginally changed direction. All of which just proved that only stupid people like Virgil, Logan, Roman, and Patton would dare attempt a teleportation on a moving ship. Virgil tried not to think about what would have happened if his coordinates had been a little lower in space, a little closer to the box he had landed on, a little more personal and prompted whatever was inside of the crate merged with whatever was inside of Virgil.

It took him a moment to realize that the lights had started flashing an interspaced red and yellow series: a visual alarm to the crew.

“Fun,” Virgil mumbled, hugging the wall next to the exit, with one last breath, and then punching the exit lock. The hydraulics took a moment to work (probably due to excessive use of the doors and wear on the components), but it opened to reveal a brightly lit, completely empty hallway. Virgil raised his blaster, checking both the direction before he stepped out and punched the door closed behind him. Then he lined the blaster up with the door controls and fired.

You know, for safekeeping. The last thing they needed was the Pol’turs inside to wake up with a vengeance and come after them before they were off the ship.

(If he was still on the ship by the time that they woke up, Virgil was pretty sure he’d be dead. But hey! Surprising things happened all the time when one lived in fucking space.)

The floor was springy under his feet, some mixture of carpet and flooring that Virgil didn’t know the name of, just that it was weird and he didn’t want it in his Sims House. He could feel the fibers through his shoes as he hugged the wall and sprinted towards where he thought the Engine room would be located.

He could hear the sound of more blasters echoing from the depths of the ship, some yelling, some cursing: all lovely signs that Roman was doing his best to be the most annoying moving target anyone had ever seen. Virgil found his lips curling into a smile as he faintly at the noise.

“Oh come on!” Roman taunted, “I’m a big guy! Surely, you can’t be that bad of a shot!”

There was deafening BZZZTTRRRT, a clamorous crashing, and an ear splitting series of screams.

Virgil flung around the last corner but in time to see Roman stand up from a kneeling position over a clump of bodies that had probably been more alive a few seconds ago. There were blaster marks all along the walls, and several had blown through a wall revealing a cozy living quarters with giant sword slices in the beddings and floors.

“Oooh, so close!” Roman said with faux-empathy bordering on smugness which at this point should just be his default to the mass. “Maybe next time you’ll think more before attacking an Erefren!” He spun at the sight of Virgil coming around the corner, pointing his sword and then shaking his tail in a greeting.

“Roman,” Virgil sighed in relief. “You okay?”

“Virgil! It seems like I got a little off course! Checked the prisoner cells but they were all empty. And then a few new friends of mine had some fun things to say about Remus.” Roman looked feral as he bared his teeth. He jabbed his sword down into the corpses and something wheezed painfully. Virgil didn’t look at them, didn’t look at them, didn’t look.

“Do you know where he is?” Virgil asked.

Roman used the edge of his shirt to wipe the blue grey blood from the tip of his blade. “Not yet, but if you give me a few more minutes with these lovely fellows of mine I will!”

It did not take “a few more minutes”. Roman hoisted on still gasping Pol’tur up by its gangly neck and it had already started blubbering in a mix of languages. Virgil watched the halls while Roman took notes from their new best friend.

Half a minute later Roman dropped their captive to the ground with a fire in his eyes and turned to Virgil with his bone plates clinking, and dripping poison.

“He was on the Bridge.” He said, coldly, “He didn’t know if they had finished with Re or not, but he was up there”

“Okay,” Virgil said.

“The rest of his crew, Virgil,” Roman growled, squeezing the hilt of his sword. “His friends! His family!” He stared down at the shaking cowering alien life. “They..!”

The back of Virgil’s throat tasted like his stomach acids.

Remus had tried to have them killed, he had sold them out, he had been a thorn in their side since before Virgil had become part of the team. Between the harrowing escapes and the near deaths, it wasn’t hard for Virgil to absolutely despise him.

But his crew? His entire crew? In three days?

Just….gone?

Condensed into the memories with a snap, removed from the future in just a blink. The initial attack on them must have been bad and bloody for Remus to call them for help, a surprise ambush type of attack. And for all Virgil hated Remus, he couldn’t help but wonder if Remus had had plans with them-- had they been discussing visiting the bars on L3-012 or shopping on K5-369 or relaxing on C2-276? Had Remus made plans with the people he had been close with and now those plans were meaningless because the people he had made them with were dead and gone and never coming ba--

The Pol’tur on the ground giggled something hysterically, one last brave blubbering comment, and Roman took the toe of his boot right into the creature's soft flesh. Its tentacles flopped on the floor with a plu-plat.

“Virgil,” Roman hissed, without looking up.

Virgil blinked and swallowed hard, “Right, Engines,” He said, turning to go back to his task but Roman reached out and hooked his claws on Virgil’s shoulder, stopping him there.

“Change of plans,” The Erefren said, “You’re coming with me to the Bridge to get my idiot brother.”

Logan was on the Bridge too. Roman didn’t need to have Virgil come with him-- in fact, Virgil shouldn’t come with him. Too many people, too close to fighting, and Virgil couldn’t wipe away the feeling of grit on his hand.

His entire crew. In just three days.

Roman didn’t mention anything about how Virgil was shaking from head to toe, and Virgil didn’t point out the way that Roman’s voice wobbled with silent pleading. He just nodded at the alien and let him lead the way towards where they suspected the examination rooms would be.

Two heads are better than one, and all that.

It was less of a guessing game when the halls and doors were labeled and Roman was very fluent in Pol’turian. Roman was quick to move, quick to sort his way through the poorly designed areas, quick to move. Virgil kept the pace as well as he could, watching the halls behind them for stragglers attempting to get the drop on them and Roman cut down anything in his way.

Blue grey blood splattered across their shoes, filling the air with a sickly sour smell that made Virgil want to gag. He settled for squeezing the handle of the balster and counting out his breaths again as he avoided Roman’s tail striking forward at astonishing speeds and squeezing his eyes shut when he thought he saw a pair of mismatching eyes in the reflection of the lights.

There was no way for them to go quietly through the halls, not with Roman stomping hard enough to shake the entire ship and his poison attacks turning every enemy into a screaming, begging, crying puddle.

“Roman!” Virgil yelled as heat billowed around them, and the taller alien stumbled back, hit the wall and fell to his knees.

Virgil snarled at one of the mercenaries and fired three times at them. Between the near misses and the scattered yells of “Deathworlder!” they retreated into nearby rooms and locked the doors after them. Virgil tore one of his EMPs from Roman’s belt and sent it flying down the hall to keep them trapped there for a little bit, before he turned to check on Roman.

His shirt was smoldering, and one of his bone plates were cracked, but he just looked out of breath and angry, “I’m fine.” His claws scraped the floor as he stood up. “Armor took most of it.”

Virgil checked the hallway again. He could feel his heartbeat in his throat, like a cancerous lump that he couldn’t get rid off no matter how much he swallowed or coughed. It pulsed to a beat that he wasn’t sure he could replicate: too fast and yet the space between each thud had felt like forever. It was so loud he almost was afraid of missing the sounds of another attack.

(An attack where Roman’s armor wouldn’t be enough, where he wouldn’t be able to wheeze off the pain, where he’d hit the wall then the floor and he wouldn’t be able to get back up and it would be all Virgil’s faul--)

Roman’s claws pricked his shoulder as he looked. With a slightly trembling hand he pointed in the direction they needed to go and Virgil did his best not to let his churning stomach get the better of him.

“Virgil! Roman!” They both spun at the voice; Roman in particular struck out with his tail, and just narrowly avoided impaling Logan’s crystalline chest on spikes.

Logan didn’t even flinch, not that he could really. His lower arms spread with palms out to signal innocence but his upper arms were busy holding up the profusely bleeding Erefren that was leaning mostly on him. Logan’s arms were flickering with so many colors Virgil couldn’t keep track of them. (Vaguely it reminded him of a disco ball, of party lights, of something so Earthly it would have made him laugh if he wasn’t so busy trying to hold back a panic attack.)

“Remus,” Roman breathed, reaching forward, impossibly gently.

“Ro’mn,” Remus slurred, shifting his head ever so slightly. His blood was pooling down the left half of his face, his eyes were partially glassy, but other than that he looked remarkably like Roman: they shared the same face with a strong jawline, the same dark dark hair curled the same way, and the same long tail with dozens of bone plates. The only real difference was the tinge of white in Remus’s hair, the oozing green poison leaking from his bone structures in place of Roman’s red, and the gaps where someone had torn out his bone plates before Remus had grown new ones in.

“Didn’t think…” Remus’s head lulled to the side, showing off the smile he was desperately forcing on his face, “didn’t think… you were comin’.”

“I’m throwing you out of the airlock,” Roman told him.

“‘ounds fun…” Remus murmured, dropping his head back to Logan’s back, and wincing like each inhale was a battle.

“They had him on the Bridge,” Logan explained, “When I arrived, they were attempting to retrieve information from him through barbaric methods. I may have gone overboard with my retaliation.” Logan shifted Remus’s weight slightly, drawing a groan from the other alien. “I am by no means a medical examiner, however, I suspect that he may have several rib fractures, and a few wounds that need to be looked at and well bandaged.”

Roman nodded, although Virgil didn’t think he actually heard anything. Virgil was an only child himself, but he could guess that even if Remus had been the biggest asshole in the entire cosmos seeing him reduced to this weakened, bloody, broken mess was terrifying. From the stories of their childhood, Virgil had always guessed that Remus was as lively as they came. But this version of him couldn’t even stand by himself.

Roman’s head shot up, “Patton. Where’s Pat? We’ve got Re, now its time to get out of here and get him help--”

“NO!” Remus shouted lunging forward suddenly. Logan stumbled at the change of weight, nearly dropping him to the floor, but it seemed that the movement had taken most of the rest of his power. “I can’t… They have…Jay… I prom’sed…”

Virgil checked the hall for enemies because that was easier than looking at the desperation in Remus’s eyes. His voice was scratched and grated like a glass under the assault of a diamond. He coughed so violently it dragged out a glob of purple blood from him.

“Remus, you can’t--” Roman said.

And despite Remus looking like a simple breeze could end his life, he grabbed at Roman’s outreached arm, above the danger of the forearm spikes.“Me and... my crew,” Remus coughed, weakly. “The oath…”

“I talked to one of those bastards,” Roman countered, forcibly soft, forcibly strained. “Re, your crew is--”

“Ro…” He pleaded, “Please.”

Roman made a noise like something in him was physically shredding him apart. Virgil suspected it was his hero complex, which usually manifested the urge to save every living being he saw. Lost wasn’t a good look on Erefrens, Virgil decided right then and there. Hopeless and terrified and sad-- all of them made Roman look wrong.

“What's wrong, Vee? You look like you want to say something.”

“....It’s nothing.”

“What? Not even a joke? Come on, I know you--”

“Let it go, Ekans.”

Virgil blinked away the unwanted memory. He sighed out of his nose and reached up to hook on the back of Roman’s armor collar. “Let’s go.”

“Virge…” Roman murmured.

“If we don’t do this now,” Virgil said, “We’ll regret it.”

He didn’t wait for the others to catch up with his train of thought, or maybe he wasn’t waiting for his own train of thought to catch up. He tugged Roman back a step and nodded at Logan. “We’ll double back and find any crew that’s left and get Pat. You take Remus to the engine room room and get the codes ready for us to get back.”

“For real?” Roman said.

“Understood, Virgil.” Logan nodded back. He glowed purple softly, around his neck notches as if he had expected this after all. “Don’t be late.”

“Time is a construct.”

Remus laughed like he was choking on a handful of rusted nails. Roman tensed at the sound, gritted his teeth, and then tightened his grip on his sword. Resolved hardened in his eyes, burning through the lost expression like a lighthouse in the middle of a storm.

“Right,” Roman said, “Let’s go.” Roman grabbed Virgil’s hand and took off in the direction they had come from. “Any guesses where the guy’s gonna be? Or where Pat is?”

Virgil felt his stomach churn. He closed his eyes and let Roman pull him along as he tried to remember the 3D diagram of a Pol’turian ship. “Well if I was in cargo, you landed near the prisoner blocks, while Logan was on the Bridge...that means that while Logan was doing the calculations the ship probably did a half roll on the longitudinal axis, which he couldn’t have accounted for. Since this ship appears to be the same as the other makes and models of Pol’turs that means that Patton probably ended up in the medical bay. And if I had to guess that’s where any last member of the crew would be as well. Take this left here.”

Roman nearly stumbled over his own feet. “How in the name of the Great God, Disney-- have you memorized all the maps?”

Virgil furrowed his brow at the alien, “Haven’t you?”

“Well yes, but--” Roman’s face flushed with a bit of his purple blood, “Nevermind, Deathworlder.”

The medical wing of the ship was easy to get to compared to the other places. It seemed that either the Pol’turs had wisened up for an ambush or they had fled when they had the chance. Either way they only came across two mercenaries and Roman made quick work of them.

He knew they had arrived by the buzzing of air, the tingle of his skin that made him feel too big and too small at the same time. The walls were bare and there were four rooms lining them, each with a number engraved in the door and the lock panels glowing red with what Virgil guessed was the Pol’turian symbol for “closed” or “locked” or “dangerous chemical inside do not release”. Virgil reached for another EMP, but his bag was empty. There were scents around them, faint scents: something metallic, something sour, something clean, something, something, something--

Something that smelled like blood. So many different kinds of blood.

Virgil swallowed hard. He hadn’t known a lot about Remus’s crew, but he knew that Remus had had a dozen different species with him. A dozen different species that hadn’t survived the encounter.

“Pat!” Roman yelled down the hall, brandishing his sword.

“Roman! In here! Help--” A voice that was most definitely Patton’s yelled out.

Roman didn’t hesitate. He lunged forward to the room the voice had come from, almost feverishly, desperately, and he didn’t bother with the password. With a swift violent motion he jabbed his sword into the locking panel and then pried open the door with his claws and his hands.

Virgil thought that it would have been one hell of a sight: if he had been strapped to a table, a knife jab from death’s door, begging, pleading, crying and knowing that all his friends had been taking to the room before him and had not come back out intact? If Virgil had been bleeding out and clinging to the slippery bit of hope that was a miracle, and then he saw his captain’s brother literally prying open the door with his bare claws to get to him---

Virgil thought it would have been pretty awesome.

Not something that should have warranted a knife being thrown at them.

Roman let out a curse in Erefren and it was one of those don’t-repeat-this-don’t-tell-Patton curses that Roman specialized in. He staggered back, clutching his shoulder where the knife had sunk in all the way to the hilt, Jesus! What the hell! Virgil kicked the rest of the door open, dropping low as scalpel skirted by where his body should have been, and then he sprung back up with his blaster set on that asshole.

Except.

“Virgil!”

The room was small, almost claustrophobically small. Just standing in the doorway made Virgil’s breath shorten (his cell back at the Welsor fighting rings had been bigger than this--). And it was lit with cold harsh white light, nearly blinding, if it weren’t for the greyed walls and the splashes-- the splashes of faded pink and blue and other colors that Virgil recognized all too well as blood. The table took up most of the room, leaving just enough space for a Pol’tur to sweep around and a small hand tray of twisted instruments.

In fact there was a Pol’tur on the ground right there. Limp and unmoving with an eye scoop so far in it’s skull there was no way it was coming back out.

But Virgil wasn’t staring at the body.

“Don’t you get tired of being everyone’s favorite person?”

It couldn’t--

“Just shut up and help me with these conjugations, will you?”

This wasn’t--

“What do you mean no one can find him?”

He hadn’t--

The detective had looked at him with such a pity that it had made Virgil’s entire body flinch. He squeezed the plastic cup in his hand, crushing it, letting the fragments cut into his skin. He couldn’t feel it, couldn’t feel anything. The man was still talking to him, talking softly like anything louder would shatter the fragile reality around them, talking so quietly Virgil couldn’t hear a single thing he was saying at all over the sound of his own heartbeat.

“You’re wrong,” Virgil had croaked. “He’s not dead.”

But he had been.

He had been for nearly two years now.

And everyone had thought that Virgil had done something to him, had thought that Virgil was the last to see him, had thought that his dark clothes and his eye shadow and a few sneers in the hall had meant that Virgil was suddenly capable of killing Janus Ekans in cold blood.

Except.

Except that Virgil was staring at Janus --fucking-- Ekans right now.

It was unmistakable, the shape of his face, the curve of his lips, the slimness of his nose. The wispy brown hair that turned golden under the summer sun, the mischievous eyes danced with different colors, the flick of his tongue that moved so freely when he let it, the tattoo of two theater masks on his chest that no one was supposed to know about-- Virgil could have spent days naming things, committing them to memory, staring in disbelief at him. This was the same boy who had sat next to him in Spanish. The same Janus who had been convinced he was so completely untouchable up until Virgil had dragged him off his stupid, golden pedastal.

It was the same Janus who was currently wrapped around Patton like a boa constrictor cutting off the alien’s ability to move and had a knife perched ever so closely to one of Patton’s eyes.

“What the hell?” Virgil had said because-- because--

Because Virgil had asked Logan once if there was a race that could pick through minds, pull memories from heads, change the way someone thought. And Logan didn’t, wouldn’t, couldn’t lie to him. There were no alien types that could break into a mind and drag illusions into reality and there were no races that could bring ghosts back from oblivion.

“Virgil,” Janus said barely a whisper, barely enough to be heard, barely enough to mean anything. The knife was tilting in his hand, tipped like he wasn’t sure what he was saying, wasn’t sure what he was doing. “What-?”

Partially drugged, Virgil thought with absolutely no room to breathe in his chest. Partially drugged, holding a knife to Patton’s weakest point, and alive.

“Janus,” Virgil said, ”Put down the knife.”

He’s still partially strapped to the table, bound by his left ankle and sporting a lovely series of cuts on the side of his face as if someone had started carving scales into his cheek for funsies. If Virgil had to hazard a guess he would have assumed that Patton had dropped in literally as the Pol’tur was taking Janus-- Janus, alive, breathing, real-- apart one centimeter at a time, then proceeded to win a very cramped fight in the room. Virgil would even say that Patton had started taking the restraints off of Janus when he had gained enough consciousness to realize that he needed to defend himself.

(The fact that they found something capable of drugging a human, a Deathworlder, was concerning, so concerning, terrifying--)

“Virgil….You are not real,” Janus said, slowly, blood dripping down his neck. “You cannot be real. None of this is real.”

“I’m the one thats not real?” Virgil muttered. “You’re the one that was declared dead.”

He laughed. Virgil’s stomach swooped.

For a second, a brief fleeting second, he could have sworn that this was all a dream. A fever dream in which Virgil would blink himself awake from and find himself on the floor of Janus’s stupid, giant ass room surrounded by a dozen cans of off-brand energy drinks, a half eaten bucket of popcorn, and the credits for a horror movie scrolling on the screen. For a second it felt like he would roll over and bump elbows with Janus who had woken up an hour previously to study for that stupid Spanish test that wasn’t until Monday. For a second it was like he was seventeen again and his biggest worry was figuring out if it was too weird to ask to run his hands through Janus’s silky hair.

“Of course, I was declared fucking dead!” Janus said, like it was the obvious thing that would happen, “I am dead. I have to be, because there’s no other way that the kid who's afraid of going outside made it this far into space.”

“Janus, put down the knife.” Virgil took a step forward, a half a step, but Janus just squeezed the knife tighter.

“Why don’t you come and make me?” Janus smiled at him, smiled, smiled, smiled.

Smiled like he knew that this was a dream and nothing he did was going to matter. Smiled like they were back on that balcony of his room with their feet swinging between the bars and two Seagrams gone each and they were going to get in a shit ton of trouble for it. Smiled like he had never been dead and Virgil hadn’t had to bury the thought of him.

Patton made a noise, a small whimper, and Virgil felt it in his chest. The near silence of the room, the soft muted buzzing in his head, the fuzzy dream like quality of reality-- it all shattered at the sound. Shattered like glass, like a mirror, like the concept of “forever”. It shattered and Virgil was suddenly hyperaware of how small the room was, how cold he felt, how metallic the air smelt.

“Hm, just as I thought,” Janus said softly, smile dropping into something wistful and disappointed, “I really am just seeing thin--”

Virgil didn’t give him the satisfaction of finishing; he surged forward, throwing his blaster to the side, and using his left hand to catch Janus’s wrist millimeters from putting that knife in Patton. He twisted his hand, pining his fingers into the soft flesh of Janus’s nerves until his hand jerked open on reflex and the knife fell into the open air.

Janus froze, inhaling so sharply Virgil was certain that he took all the oxygen in the room away.

He was warm, Virgil realized absently. He was warm and had a pulse and for some reason both those things made Virgil’s chest hurt. His skin was soft and his breath was sweet and Virgil had gotten punch-drunk stupid on less.

Which probably explained why, how, when, Virgil’s lips ended up on his, pressing firmly, and tasting like something from a past Virgil had thought he had given up on. Virgil had always been stupid, but this was another level of stupid. This was incredibly dumb, unbelievable, ridiculous.

Janus’s mouth was on his, and Virgil’s hand was tipping his head back ever so slightly, and Patton had managed to scramble out of Janus’s absolutely shocked slacked hold.

“You’ve always been so annoying,” Virgil gasped between breaths, “Always thinking you know everything. Have you ever considered you might be wrong before?”

“You’re--” Janus whispered, “Real? For real?” Then, “Don’t you know what the fuck consent is?”

“Fuck you,” Virgil told him.

Janus grabbed him by his collar and yanked him forward again. “Since you asked so nicely.”

“Don’t be cute.”

“Don’t be coy.” Janus shot back because he was still the same asshole who needed to have the last word. He bit at Virgil’s lip, and then pulled back to show off a wolfish grin.

Virgil was stuck somewhere between wanting to smash his stupid smug face in and wanting to kiss him until he lost all sense of direction. Janus was like that, Virgil remembered suddenly, even when they were kids, when Janus was trapped on that pedestal everyone had put him on, when Virgil couldn’t have cared less about him and somehow had ended up unsure how to live without him.

“Not that this isn’t the fucking cutest shit I’ve ever seen--“ A voice behind them called and Virgil stiffened.

“Language!” Patton interrupted, as Roman grunted through the pain of still having a surgical knife in his shoulder.

“--But can the two of you save your weird-ass….human…. greeting custom…. for some other time?” The Erefren snarled with one hand clutching the hilt and then yanking it out with a wheeze that Virgil felt physically. His purple blood spouted out from the wound but Roman didn’t seem to care, beyond tossing the knife to the floor.

“That’s an Erefren,” Janus said because he’s just as good at stating the obvious as he is at kissing. “That is not Remus.”

Roman snapped out something in his native tongue, which by the stress on the syllables was probably not nice and definitely not Patton approved. The Reytin even puffed up, shaking his head in a way that normally prefaced an hour long lecture on manners and the reintroduction of a swear jar.

However, Janus just laughed that pretty stupid little laugh of his but when he opened his mouth the words were all forgein. It took Virgil a moment to catch up, a moment to realize that he hadn’t even fumbled, that Janus had actually spoken Erefrenian and it had been grammatically correct enough that stunned Roman for a whole half second.

“You speak Erefrenian?” Virgil asked.

Janus blinked up at him a smug looking expression on his face. “You don’t?”

Virgil had a good response, he did. It was a response that had been some-three years in the making and Virgil had been ready to wipe that prideful expression of his face. But before they could do anything the entire ship lurched to the side, taking gravity with it. Virgil let out a yelp and grabbed for Janus and clung for stability.

(Space had done wonders for Janus’s abs, Virgil thought distantly.)

Roman slammed into the door frame and stumbled out into the hall, with all the grace a drunken ballerina, and cursed again when Patton landed on top of him.

“That’s our cue to leave!” Roman growled.

“Ya think?” Virgil shot back. He lunged for the end of the table where Janus’s bare foot was still strapped to the table. He didn’t look at the rusted color on the buckle, at the stiffness of the leather strap, at the rawness of Janus’s skin where it was biting into his ankle. He didn’t, didn’t, didn’t--

His hands shook. Janus reached over and clasped his forearms, the fabric of his tunic, him.

“Virgil--” Janus said, softly, unsuredly, with no trace of that previous pompous expression on him. “I--”

There was blood on his face, trailing all the way down his neck in scarlet silvers from the cuts. His hair was sweat matted, pressed and tousled in a way that made Virgil feel a certain rage in his chest, like someone had been running fingers through his curls while they sliced him apart. His eyes were still slightly glassy from whatever they put in him. There was an unspoken question on his lips, in his eyes, through his fingers as he clung to Virgil.

“I’ve got you,” Virgil told him, practically scooping him up. Janus heaved a breath as his feet touched the ground again. “Us humans have to stick together, right?”

Janus Ekans was alive.

It sounded surreal even in the moment, because Virgil had been mourning him since they were seventeen and stupid. Everyone else had moved on, had buried his memory, had forgotten about him. But he was not dead, and Virgil had not killed him. Somehow he had ended up in space, ended up with Remus, ended up here on this ship in the several billions of lightyears from anything they had known previously.

There would be no more late-nights-turned-early-mornings study sessions, no more sneaking over the gated walls of the Ekans mansion, and no more scaling the lattice underneath Janus’s balcony. They were never going to go stargazing on the hills outside of town again, never going to ruthlessly text each other under the desk during History class, never going to skip prom together to go trespassing in the woods somewhere to find Mothman. He was never going to butcher Spanish past participles in the cozy corner of the school library after hours and he was never going to get to listen to Janus brag about obtaining his Seal of Biliteracy finally despite his proficiency in about three languages.

Janus had disappeared right before senior year. And Virgil, who had been the biggest thorn in his side, the biggest instigator of all their fights, the wild and unruly punk kid that lived in detention-- Virgil had stopped looking for him. Because everyone said he had died. Because everyone said that Virgil had killed him.

But Virgil could feel Janus’s pulse, could hear his heartbeat, could see the way his chest moved as they stumbled out of the room.

Part of him was afraid that if he let go now, later, ever, Janus would disappear again. Shimmer and fade like a mirage in the desert.

“Careful Virgil,” Janus said breathily. “I almost think you missed me.”

“I hate you so much,” Virgil said back, as Roman and Patton led the way toward the engine rooms by blade and alien jujutsu and well-placed pun.

“Somehow, I don’t think you mean that, at all.” Janus said, grinning.

And then he closed that last little bit of space between them again.

[Next installment: Stars Die (But We Don’t)]

#Sanders sides #Virgil Sanders #Janus Sanders #Patton Sanders #Roman Sanders #Remus Sanders #Logan Sanders #Alien Au #Sympathetic Deceit #Sympathetic Remus #23 pages of Virgil in space #humans are space orcs #blood #Anxceit #background intrulogical #Probably will end up as part of series if you guys want more

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feverinfeveroutfic · 3 years ago

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chapter twenty four: sextape

Ruben's new house overlooked the Bay waters, about a block away from the harbor and within range of Alex's parents' neighborhood. If nothing, Sam could walk in between both of their houses. Her father kept his promise and made up a bed for her in that spare room; the dream catcher was back at her mother's house but she knew that she could sleep well knowing that Alex and his parents weren't too far from there. She lay down on the bed that first time around with her feet up against the wall opposite her and she envisioned Alex right next to her.

It felt so strange given she had reached the middle of her twenties and yet she found herself back home with her parents once more. New York felt like a whole other strange world once again, even with her couch still back there.

“I want my couch,” she muttered under her breath at one point. “I miss my couch.”

Then again, she felt like a teenager again, as if she was given another chance at it. There was a boy who lived down the street from her whom she had traded saliva with before and she was trading in between living with her mother and her father, and yet she still had a place to go with her old friends back home in New York. The sole difference was she had reached twenty four rather than fourteen.

She stayed with Ruben for about a week and then she made the trip down to Catalina on the bus and stayed with Esmé for about another few days before she made yet another trip up to the Bay Area. She knew that she would have to settle on some place at some point given the sheer extent of traveling and her feeling as though that things could be better once again: the bus rides through the Central Valley were rather tedious as well and she wondered how in the world Alex made that seven hour car ride so entertaining for himself the day he picked her up from the side of the road.

At some point, right before her next stay on Catalina and there was a longer stop than usual before the end of the line in San Pedro, she spotted a little art shop near the Santa Monica pier and she stepped off of there before the usual one. She knew she would miss the ride back and thus she ran along the sidewalk to that shop up the block. She held onto the top of that fedora Alex had given her with one hand and the courier bag he and his parents had made for her with the other hand. She was about to walk right into an art shop with the Skolnick name right at her back.

Her old journal had been falling apart at the seams for a time at that point, more so than when she and Alex were up at Glenbrook together. She only had one sheet of paper left anyway: she also took his advice and broke down on some page protectors.

A brand new journal, a new set of pencils, and a new chapter of life all for a small price.

She had to run back to the bus stop but she missed it regardless of anything, however. She knew in her heart that her leaving the bus was more than worth it. She stood there under the protective awning with her new tools tucked away in her courier bag and the fedora high upon the crown of her head, and her sunglasses rested upon the bridge of her nose.

Within time, the next bus came and she finished the trip down to San Pedro and she caught the next boat over to Catalina Island.

She had reached there about half an hour later than she had intended with her mother, but she explained it with a mere showing of her courier bag to Esmé.

Sam stayed there at the house for a full night and then the next day, for most of the morning, she had the house to herself. There was only thing she could do, since Alex hadn't given her his number. She dialed that old familiar number once more and she brought the cordless up to her ear.

“Hello?”

That familiar upstate accent.

“Joey?”

“Oh, hi,” he greeted her with a crackling on his end. “I was just thinking about you.”

“Were you now?”

“I was thinking about—how beautiful you are.”

“You're funny, Joey,” she told him as she twirled a lock of hair around her finger.

“But it's true, though,” he said with a clearing of his throat. “I was thinking about how beautiful you really are. Where are you right now?”

“Catalina. My mom's over in Avalon right now, so I have the whole house to myself at the moment.”

“God, I miss that island. It was so cool there.”

“It really is! I love it here. But you know—I love New York, too.”

“I wish you were here, too...” His voice trailed off.

“Are you drunk?” she asked him.

“No? Why would I be?”

“Because you were that one night when Chuck, Alex, Marla, and I were at your place.”

“I wasn't, though,” he pointed out. “I was more starving than I was drunk off my ass.”

“You smelled like booze, too.”

“Sure, I may have had a drink or two over the course of that day. But I wasn't drunk, though. I was lucid—I'm sure you remember me.”

“Yes, I do. How could I forget, really.”

“Sam, I wasn't drunk. I promise you that I was not drunk.”

“What was in that needle, by the way?”

“The needle I used to inject myself with?”

“Yeah, what was in there?”

There was a prolonged pause, such that Sam moved her head forward and her eyes darted about the floor in front of her.

“Joey? Are you there?”

“Yeah.”

“What was in the syringe, Joey?”

“Black—tar—heroin.”

She raised her eyebrows at that.

“Heroin,” she echoed in a soft voice.

“Black tar. It's extra raw so you get a heftier high from it—I guess it makes you sick, too. I didn't tell you—when we were in Europe—you know, when you, Marla, Belinda, and Aurora were with us—Frankie and I did a little bump of cocaine. I gave it up because it made my nose itch like crazy—he might still be doing it as far as I know, but I did it because it was there. But I tried out black tar because it's hefty in its numbing abilities.”

“Why would you want to numb yourself, though?” she asked him, concerned.

“Because I was in a lot of pain then, Sam. You weren't around to comfort me. I had to comfort myself somehow.”

“Charlie told me that they just wanted you to have a break, though, Joey,” she pointed out. “They just wanted a break, too.”

“Is that all?”

“Yeah. Which means—someone's not telling me the whole truth. I don't know if there was a lack of communication or you had something in mind.”

“I guess I just misheard him,” Joey confessed with a sigh.

“I think you did. That's—why I asked you if you were drunk.”

“I think I was just—in the moment then when he called me at the time.”

“In the moment of what?”

Another pause, albeit one that was even longer as a result of that.

“Joey?” she called out to him. “Joey, are you there?”

He cleared his throat, but he didn't say anything further. Just a soft buzzing noise on his end.

“Joey?”

“Picture me there next to you,” he started in a husky voice, “I've got my pants unbuttoned. I'm coaxing you to come on closer to me.”

She froze right in place. “I'm picturing,” she told him in a low voice.

“Come on closer to me,” he begged her, “come on closer and put your hands down the front of my jeans and touch me there. Touch me there, and I'll return the favor to you.”

“Where?” she asked him.

“Keep your voice down.”

“Where?” she asked him again, that time in a near whisper; Esmé was still out of the house and she was in her room, but she had to do it for him.

“Right below the equator. Right inside that lovely bit of sugar you got there. Just give ya a li'l fingerin'.”

“And what if I don't touch you?”

“You use your mouth on me. Use your mouth and then get on top of me.”

“I ride on top?”

“Yes. Right—on top.”

She thought about the tape that she and Chuck had recorded to send out to Bill. She wondered if he had it with him at that point and the whole entire thought of it made her heart hammer inside of her chest from that point onward.

“Should I top it off with a kiss to you after that?” she asked him as she ran her tongue along her top row of teeth.

“Please,” he insisted, still in a low husky voice. “And then I want you to climb the other way around with me.”

“So you can—”

“Put my tongue inside of you, yeah.”

“Oh, my, Joey—what if I wanted to squeeze your ass, like a couple of ripe oranges?”

“What if you wanted to squeeze my ass?”

“How would you like that?”

“I'd like that very much. I'd probably squeeze yours, too—”

There was a click on his end; she also heard the front door close right behind her.

“Hang on, I'm getting another call,” he told her.

“My mom's home, too.”

“Oh, shit! Yeah, you don't wanna get caught talking like this in front of her. I'll talk to you later, though.”

“Joey?”

“Yeah?”

“I love you,” she said.

“I love you, too. I'm glad my own sour stomach was weak enough to keep me from injecting that horrible, horrible shit, otherwise I never would've heard your voice again.”

She smiled at that, and then the two of them hung up at the same time.

His words stayed with her the whole week she was on Catalina, and even more so when she took the bus ride back up the Valley to the Bay Area. The first thing she did was visit the studio to see how Testament was doing, especially with her father being a part of their team now.

Sam pushed open the front door, which hung slightly ajar, so she could hear Alex plucking his guitar and Chuck laughing at something. Even from outside, she was growing familiar with his guitar tone and the elaborate, melodic way in which he played. She rounded the corner to find him there at the sound board, with that red guitar rested upon his lap and with his hair brushed to where it was rather frizzy and fuzzy and stood every which way.

“Hey, you,” she greeted him.

“Hey!” he greeted back to her, complete with a lopsided little smile. Her gaze wandered over to the sound board, where she spotted a series of tapes there, all which had the words “signed and sealed” inscribed on one side.

“Are you guys done?” she asked him, stunned.

“Yeah, it's all been recorded,” he told her, “well, Greg and Louie's parts are, anyway. Eric and I have to put down the guitar work, and then Chuck has to lay down vocals and then it all goes into mixing and mastering.”

“Don't you guys also have to play the songs together, too?” she asked him.

“Yeah, we do! We do that—in about a month or so, or whenever our residency is up anyways. It's like the last thing we do is perform the songs live in studio.”

She looked about the room around them: no one else in there with them, even with the door to the pool room wide open.

“I keep thinking about our encounter in the pool room,” she said to him in a low voice.

“You know, I don't really have a memory of it,” he confessed. “I mean, I sorta do? But it's rather vague, though. All I remember is feeling you up against my body and the next thing I knew, I woke up and I had that strange hickey on my neck. I never had one of those before, but when I took a better look at it, I thought 'is that what I think it is?' Sure enough it was. Again, my memory is real hazy but I do have somewhat of it, though.”

“And we made a pinky promise to one another that we wouldn't speak about it to anyone, either,” she added.

“I do remember that,” he told her with a raise of his eyebrows. “I remember that pretty clearly.”

“Because you puked it all up.”

“I puked it all up but I was still kind of fuzzy in the head, though. But I do remember that part, though. I remember feeling your finger on me, too.”

“I should tell you that you are quite the kisser,” she told him.

“I think you are, too,” he said with a little squint to his eyes. “I can still taste you. Even after all the water I drank up after the fact, I can still taste you on my tongue.”

“Do you remember what else I told you?” she asked him in a soft voice.

“Something about—me being perfect or something along those line?”

“How I want to protect you from things, especially other women.”

“Women are not things, though, Samantha,” he said in a singsong voice and with a wag of his finger. “You ought to know that. You're a woman yourself.”

“Of course,” she retoreted as she rolled her eyes. “But what I mean is I want to protect you, Alex. I think it might be from you being younger than me.”

“Could be. Or it could be the fact that you're out here in California again and your boyfriend is back in New York still.”

“You were a bit drunk, though,” she pointed out.

“I was drunk and feeling every inch of you all over me, like it's some kinda hallucinogen.”

“I kind of wanna tape your mouth shut now,” she admitted.

“Why?” he chuckled at that.

“Tape over your mouth and give you what for below the equator.”

He raised his eyebrows at that, but she realized that he was looking past her. Sam turned around and there was no one behind her.

“I thought I saw Eric back there,” he said as she turned back around and faced him straight on. “Anyways, you wanna tape me up and give me a little something down south?”

“Yes!”

“Lemme ask you this, Samantha—where did all this come from?”

“Hanging out with you and Chuck and Eric and Greg and Louie. That's what.”

“Nah, I'm sure you were feeling like this with Joey and all those guys back East.”

She eyed the veins in his lanky arms: they seemed much more slender, sinewy, and toned than before, as if he had worked out this whole entire time. She brought her gaze up to his face and those deep eyes that she had seen from a whole mile away from the coast line.

“I'll tell you this, though, Alex,” she told him, “—you are nice and soft. For a strong little guy, you sure have the softest body. Like cuddling with a little teddy bear. Or a little pillow.”

“Hey, I ain't little,” he scoffed with a toss of his black hair and a wag of his finger. “If you and I ever get together at some point again in the future—and things get extra passionate between us—I'll show you what I mean.”

She froze for a second, and then she realized what he was talking about. And then she showed him her tongue.

“You are a dirty little boy, aren't you,” she teased him.

“Again—I ain't little. And I might have to wash anyways—I'll be right back.”

He stood up and slung his guitar off of his shoulder, and then he walked on out of there, and into the next room. Given he said that within junction of itself, she wondered if he was actually going to do just that. She turned to the tapes on the sound board, those completed tapes, already recorded and ready to be pieced together for the new album.

A familiar woman's voice caught her ear right then, and she turned for a look to the door of the pool room. She recognized that jet black hair, which had been cut extra short and flipped about at the back of her head. She had put on a bit of weight from carrying two babies, but her protruding belly told Sam that there was something else now.

“Hey! Aurora!” She was stern.

“Sam!” Aurora's face lit up but Sam's arms folded across her chest took that look of joy away as quickly as it came. Eric and Alex stopped right in their tracks in the doorways right there on either side of them: the room fell silent as a result.

They hadn't spoken since that fateful New Year's Eve, but the wounds were still raw with Sam. Aurora glanced back at Eric, who stood there in the doorway of the pool room; he looked as though he was about to head back in there but he never did. She returned to Sam with a serious look on her face.

“Listen—I feel terrible,” she confessed. “I feel so terrible for what I did, for leaving you and the girls behind. But—I have a family now. It's hard for me to focus sometimes—and it was especially then, too. My brain just—wasn't firing on all cylinders. Really, I feel terrible, Sam. I can't believe I did that to you.”

“I see you already have another bun in the oven,” Sam grumbled; she swore that Aurora just had twins that past summer.

“I do, yes. I'm sure you know—I love my daughters. I love Emile. But I also love you, though. I love you and I miss you. And like I said, I feel terrible.” She paused for a moment. “If you're going to blame anyone, blame me.”

Sam parted her lips to say something but no sound came out. Instead, Aurora lowered her gaze and she turned away. Sam's mind went blank and then she turned to Eric and Alex there in the doorways, and the both of them looked so small at the sight before them. Eric then stepped out of the way to let Marla through: her hair still in that neon green, but she carried a small bundle in her arms.

“Our daughters,” Aurora explained, “Phoebe and Elizabeth—I just brought Phoebe with me. Emile's caring for Elizabeth back home right now. I don't know what this baby'll be next but I'm eager to meet him or her.”

She turned to Marla.

“What were you gonna do?”

“I was just take her outside to the porch,” Marla replied as she nodded to the doorway around Alex. “It's kind of stuffy in here and smells like beer.” Alex himself grimaced at that; he stepped out of her way and Aurora followed suit.

Sam, Alex, and Eric congregated there in the middle of the floor; she then turned to Eric.

“I feel like I haven't seen you in a million years,” she told him. “How are you?”

“I'm good, thank you!”

“We're on a roll lately,” Alex said with a glimmer in his eye.

“Hell yeah, we are, my brother.” Eric bumped his fist, and then Alex returned to the sound board for his guitar; Sam peered out the doorway at the sight of Marla and Aurora taking their seats on the porch. There was a small shrub right there at the rim, one decorated with big hot pink flowers. Sam had seen those flowers all over California, especially all over the southern region of the state.

“I don't like those flowers,” she told Eric in a low voice.

“What, those pink ones?”

“Yeah.”

“Why's that?”

“Those are oleanders. They're poison, Eric.”

“Oh, shit.”

“Yeah, look how close they are to them, too.”

Eric cleared his throat.

“Marla,” he called out. “Marla—”

“Just a second,” she told him off, and she adjusted the bundle in her arms, and then she returned to Aurora. “Anyways—”

“Marla!” Eric insisted.

“Just a second, Eric!” she insisted, and she turned back to Aurora. “What was I saying?”

“MARLA!”

She rotated in the chair and fully faced him with Aurora's daughter cradled in her arms.

“What do you want, Eric?” she demanded.

“Get away from that bush!” Sam declared.

“What, this bush right here?” Marla gestured to the hot pink flowers right behind her.

“Yes, those are oleanders—they're poison,” she advised her.

“Oh, shit—” Marla yanked Phoebe away from there.

“Yeah, go wash—” Sam proclaimed, and she and Eric looked at one another, horrified. Marla hurried off of the porch and headed back inside of the short corridor before them and into the bathroom. Aurora lifted up her chair and inched away from there.

“That was close,” Eric said as he headed back to the pool room.

“For real!” Sam returned to Alex, who had taken his seat there once again and played around with the volume on his guitar. He raised his head and showed her a soft expression.

“I feel like if you go back to New York now,” Alex told her in a low voice, “you'll be seen as a hick.”

“Why's that?”

“Because you're in touch with nature,” he said with a shrug of his shoulders, “I dunno, just something about being in a place like New York and knowing about things like oleanders.”

“That's probably why I loved upstate so much,” she recalled in a soft tone.

“There's also—this is just from what I've seen traveling through there and from touring—like a bluntness with New York, too. You like things that are nice and soft. It's okay, though—my dad tells me that time makes you stronger as it passes along.”

“I'll buy that,” she said, “I definitely feel stronger now than I was five years ago, before I moved to New York in the first place.”

“Don't blame ya,” he told her with a shake of his head and the little gray tuft over his head waved about like a little flag. “Five years—you've been through a lot, Samantha.”

“I really have,” she said in a low voice. “I really genuinely have, Alex.”

Louie strode past them right then with little black gloves on his hands. He gave his hair a slight toss back and showed her a grin.

“Poison garden,” she declared.

“Poison mother fuckin' garden,” he echoed her as part of his greeting and he gave her a bump of the fist.

“I don't know what that means,” Alex confessed, “but poison garden!”

Sam and Louie burst out laughing at that.

“When we were on a road trip together,” she explained to him, “we talked about starting a garden that's consisted of nothing but poison plants.”

Alex froze for a second, and then he burst out laughing, and then he looked on at her with a mortified look on his face.

“Poison plants? Like—deadly nightshade and—”

“Oleanders, too,” Louie added.

“Yeah, we discussed oleanders,” Sam continued, “mainly because they grow like weeds in the south land in particular. But yeah, deadly nightshade, oleanders, strychnine, among others. You can join us if you so wish, Alex.”

“I'd rather have a stake in it, thank you,” he said with a nervous chuckle.

“A stake in poison!” Louie declared. “Right on.”

“A stake in poison and sex tape,” Sam blurted out, to which Alex shushed her, but Louie had already walked away at that point. Marla returned out of the bathroom, still with the bundle in her arms.

"Marla!" Sam called out to her, and she padded closer to the doorway.

"Did Bill ever get the thing?" Marla hesitated for a second and then her face lit up.

"He did, as a matter of fact! Dave called me right before I flew out here and he said 'the eagle has landed.'"

"Hell yeah," Alex declared with a mischievous grin on his face.

"By the way," Sam added, "you look like a mom holding that baby in your arms." She turned to Alex. "Wouldn't you agree, Alex? She looks like a mom."

"Yeah, even with the green hair," he said.

Marla shrugged her shoulders.

"I dunno 'bout that," she confessed. "I've never felt like mommy type like with Aurora back here. But, I'll take that as a compliment, though. Thanks, guys." She showed them a smile before she ducked back onto the porch.

"Speaking of mommies," Alex said under his breath, and Sam took a glimpse over at him.

"What'd you say?" she asked him.

"Nothing." And he continued plucking and messing with the dials.

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yandere-mha-blog · 4 years ago

Text

Chapter 26: The end

Words: 1100

“Tenko is that all?” Nao said to her son as he was packing up everything into the moving van from his now old apartment, it was kinda a shame that he would be moving so far from you, but it was for the best, he needed to stop being so reliant on you.

“Just the chair, hey Hana help me,” he said

“Nah you got it.” She said, “Hey didn't you say your friend was coming over?”

“She is, she is just busy with work.” Tomura said as a taxi pulled up and you walked out “see she is right there.”

“Oh, so she is real.” Hana said, “Can’t believe that's the woman that was helping you.”

Tenko rolled his eyes.

“Hey tomura-I mean Tenko.” you said walking out

“Oh are you (name)?” Nao said

“That's me, nice to meet you.” you said, shaking her hand “And you must be Hana.”

“Oh wow so this is the Tenko whisper,” she said

“Haha wouldn't call it that, I'm glad I wasn't late.” you said “So how's the moving going?”

“It would be faster if someone helped out,” Tenko said, as you walked over and helped him out

“Hana, let's give them a moment,” Nao said, as Hana was laughing under her breath and did so.

“So Tenko, you got your name back.” you said “Got to say it was nice knowing Tomura, but I wonder who this Tenko is,” you said as Tenko nudged your shoulder.

“Still the same person, I'm still going to get help, my family found me a therapist near us.” Tenko said, “So I really can't thank you enough...for everything.”

“Again it has been my pleasure.” you said “You have any ideas for school.”

“Well I think vet school is a bit out of my price range, but I'm thinking of becoming a dog groomer,” Tenko said

“I can see that,” you said, ut then looking a little sad when the word dog came up

“...are you doing okay?” Tenko asked

“I'm...coping, I still miss Panchan dearly, I'm still sad that he is gone.” you said “But I'm living.”

“Well I’m still your friend, and I know you don't want to hear it, but I'm sorry for being selfish, I was being real creeping to you, still I'm glad that you can still call me a friend,” Tenko said

“Of course Tenko.” you said giving him a big hug “Still I'm going to miss you.”

“Same here, we can still play video games on Sundays right?” He asked

“Well duh.” you said, “I'm gonna miss you Tenko I wasn't expecting you to move so far away.”

“I think it's for the best, to be able to work towards myself without you.” he said, “Wait that came out wrong I mean I should learn how t handle things-no wait I mean.”

“I understand you goof,” you said

Six months had passed since Tomura was no more and instead returned back to Tenko and went back to his family. He was happy, his mom was very supportive of him becoming a dog groomer, the apprenticeships, he had been slobbered, peed, pooped on, still he did enjoy the job of cleaning up the pooches, the studying of different breeds and their coat was enough to keep him occupied. Hana was teasing him about his feelings towards you, still the Therapist he was seeing told him that he was viewing you more as a savior than a real person, he couldn't really fight them on this.

A couple of medications later, and sure there were still permanent scars from his itching but he didn't want to vomit every time he looked in the mirror. He kept remembering your words that if people have a problem with how he looks that's their issue, not his.

“I can’t believe it's my son's first day on the job.” His mom said

“Mom doesn't cry.” Tenko said

“Well it's just been a wild ride.” she said “I'm just so happy to see you doing something you love.”

“Wel if you don't stop taking photos I'm going to be late.” Tenko said, “Bye love you need to go.”

“Okay, so I have an appointment for Mashuchan,” Tenko said walking out for his third appointment for the day.

“That would be me,” you said as you were holding a white Shiba Inu

“(NAME) WHAT ARE YOU DOING HERE?” Tenko asked a bit to loudly

“Hey Tenko, I'm here because Mashuchan needs a good wash and brushing, also your mom kept texting me photos, that it was your first day here.”

“So embarrassing.” Tenko said leaning down and patting your dog on the head “How's this...Girl?”

“She is great, she is a real sweetheart.” you said handing Tomura the leash “I want her extra fluffy.”

“Must you name all your dogs after food?” Tomura said, “Also about Hiromi I've been meaning to ask.”

“I wouldn't know I haven't talked to her in a while.” you said “She was pretty upset I was still talking to you so oh well.”

“Sorry…” Tenko said

“Ah, don’t be, the friendship wasn't really working out anyway,” you said, Tenko nodded his head and pulled Mashuchan to the back, guess you were a person who always needed a pet with them. Once he was all done and your dog was all fluffed up.

“Thanks, Tenko.” you said “I'll be online tonight for our usual game, Right?”

“I won't miss it for the world, also I made a new mod the other day, it turned all the rabbits into corgis.” He said

“Sounds great, can’t wait to see it.” you said “I have to go to work now.”

“Okay hope it goes well,” he said and waved you off, one of his coworkers came up to him.

“Was that your girlfriend?” she asked while holding a cat who was swatting at her ponytail.

“Huh, oh no, just a really good friend of mine,” Tenko said

“Oh so you are single?” she said

“What?” Tenko asked

“OH nothing, you are so silly Tenko,” she said with a wink and left to go and groom the cat she was holding, was this flirting, maybe he would have to ask you later tonight, maybe things don't play out as he had planned, but Tomura was no more the name that was forced upon him was gone, Tenko was back with a new outlook on life, you would always hold a special place in his heart, he didn’t have your love as a girlfriend, but he knew that having your love friend was just as great. Yes, he was happy to have you in his life.

#Yandere tomura #yandere tomura shigaraki #yandere shigaraki #yandere tenko shimura #yandere shimura #yandere my hero academia #yandere boku no hero academia #yandere

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mokutone · 4 years ago

Note

,, i dont,, know jackshit about naruto,, but,,,,,,, your watercolor pieces are so good??? like???????? SO GOOD?????

Here's the obligatory ask (since I started trying to use watercolors): are you aware of any tips for that particular medium? Like, are the brushes and watercolor quality really important or is that just my imagination? Also, how 2 mix colors and not die-

LMAO thanks!! I’m glad you think so!

I do have a lot of tips for watercolor, but I’ll start with the material questions. I would say that the quality of the tools can be fairly important, but like, it’s not make or break.

Supplies Information:

Disclaimer: None of this is necessary! You can make great art with any material available to you. All materials have different strengths and weaknesses, but you can create things that bring joy with the most rudimentary of supplies.

I tend mostly to use liquid watercolors because I find them easier to control and manage (and I just...like working out of little bottles of liquid with eyedroppers. It’s my ink bias), but they have significant drawbacks. Archival speaking? light will bleed all the color out of what I have created eventually! They aren’t built to last. That doesn’t worry me much because I tend to stack all my drawings up and shove them in a drawer when I’m done, but it’s something to keep in mind. I find them easy to mix and manage in the pallet, and easy to reactivate if they dry out

The brands I use are Dr. PH Martin’s Concentrated/Radiant Watercolor, and Ecoline Watercolor. Between the two, I would recommend Ecoline because they are cheaper, have more consistent texture, and have more in the bottle. Honestly, if the art store near me wasn’t on a huge sale, I never woulda gotten the PH Martins, they’re expensive as hell and just incredibly teeny glass bottles.

BUT, if you want to use watercolor that comes in tubes (which will last longer, give you more options for artistic expression—because the texture ranges from paste to watery, you have all that range to experiment with—and which most watercolor artists prefer in general) there’s a lot more options. The highest quality for the cheapest price I’ve found are the Turner’s watercolor tubes? I don’t always love the texture when I’m wetting the paint because I am picky, but the color is incredibly vibrant, and the prices are incredibly affordable compared to like, schminke or cotman haha. I used these in school and had a great time with them.

Brushes I know a lot less about, like almost nothing honestly, I wish I could give you some concrete advice on brushes but what it really comes down to for me is like, if you like the way it feels in your hand, if you like the way it makes a mark, it’s good. all it exists to do is facilitate You making a mark on the paper with some artistic medium, as long as you are satisfied with it, that’s good.

If you want brush recommendations though, I’ve been told that Princeton’s watercolor brushes (i have a couple from the Heritage and Velvetouch series) are good synthetic brushes for...moderate prices. Brushes are expensive. Usually people recommend you have a #2 and #4 Round, and a smaller detail brush, but again, really, like all things art it all comes down to your preferences, and your needs.

Actual Painting Tips:

Take care of yourself! Treat yourself kindly, forgive yourself for making mistakes. I’m dead serious. It’s impossible to avoid making mistakes, and in watercolor the mistakes are really hard to fix, and usually impossible without the use of gouache or something else opaque, so at some point it’s going to become an exercise in forgiving yourself for making those mistakes, like drawing in pen with no under-sketch. On a good day, I find this therapeutic. On a bad day, it’s maddening. It’s okay not to make art on a bad day. When it comes to something you do because you enjoy it, and want to continue enjoying it, it’s important not to force yourself to do anything you don’t want to, and to take breaks when you feel yourself getting frustrated.

Paint from Lightest color value to Darkest. If you’re going to paint a character with a bit of a rim-light from some golden sunlight, paint that light light yellow first, top to bottom, and then work your way to the darker colors.

If you’re painting on a tilted surface (I’m guilty of keeping my sketchpad or paper block on my knees) paint from top to bottom. The weight of the water will pull the paint down, so you want to work with gravity, not against it!

Limit yourself. Let yourself only work with one color for a day or so, then only two colors, then only three. When you put yourself in a corner where you don’t have a lot of options, you’ll often find you surprise yourself with what you come up with. Usually, I pick three colors, put them down on my pallet, and leave them there for a week or so, mostly just painting from those colors. It helps me develop a familiarity with how those colors work together, and how they work when I mix them.

Mixing Colors:

another thing I should say about the Dr.PH Martin’s watercolors is that they don’t always mix well. I tried to get a skin tone for Kakashi once out of pink, green, and a little bit of brown, and in the mixture you could see all of the colors that went into it, and it gave a very strange look. I liked it as a color, but it definitely looked weird.

The paint that you use will have properties specific to itself, and you will get more familiar with those properties as you work it. It may mix smoothly on the pallet, it may not, and both of those can be good if you’re willing to work with them.

Because of watercolor’s properties, there’s three main ways to mix it:

One: Mixing in the palette. What it says on the tin—you mix the paint, you put it on the paper. I do this one the most, it just takes a lot of familiarity with your paints to get used to the balances that create the colors you want, just lots and lots of playing around.

Two: Mixing dry. This isn’t really “mixing” per se, but it does the same job, Watercolor is a transparent medium, and one that reactivates when wet, so if you put one color over another, it’s about the same as mixing.

Three: Semi-wet mixing. The combination of the two! You can get some weird effects out of this. I use it sparingly, but I love to use it when I do.

The most useful physical tool for me (just me personally) in mixing is a pallet i have, and while it’s fairly cheap and should last like, idk forever, there are other ways to get a similar effect without it, as long as you give yourself space to mix.

it looks like this, it’s a porcelain pallet (so the cleanup is incredibly easy, unlike my plastic one, which unfortunately wants to hold my color a little) and i use it almost daily. The circular wells are for where you put the bulk of the color you will be using, and the rectangular wells are for mixing either with water, to get more translucent colors, or with other colors. The limited wells but excess of mixing space puts pressure on me not to use too many colors, but to mix them constantly. (but also has enough divided space that I don’t feel anxious about everything getting muddied. i am very particular.)

It’s heavy though, and while its therefore good for sitting on my desk and not getting knocked off by my cat or me, it’s not easily portable, especially as it’s uncovered if that's something that is important to you. Blick’s probably has them, as does...I imagine any other art retailer? They’re fairly popular. Usually around 6-8$ but again, none of these tools are necessary, they are just what suit me personally. I hope this helps! If I have the energy for it, at some point I’ll post some basic watercolor exercises to help with control and technical skill. You can get very good with any medium just by raw continuous practice, but my teacher last year had us do a lot of exercises that not only gave me a much greater comfort and confidence with watercolor, but that were also just...incredibly meditative to do.

#it wouldnt be basil mokutone if i didnt turn literally every advice post into an excuse to tell people to treat themselves kindly #something something you are your greatest tool and just as you shouldnt leave your brushes in the water you also shouldnt overwork yourself #i got a lot of my supplies very cheap cause the art store near me was closing so lots of it was extremely discounted so i'm very lucky haha #changeside #watercolor #advice #i genuinely hope this helps folks hahaha i dont wanna come off as like idk presumptuous or preachy #long post /

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excusemin · 4 years ago

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Keys - MYG

-Part Two of Quarantine with Bangtan

Pairing: Yoongi x female reader

Rating: PG

Genre: established relationship, FLUFFY FLUFF

Warnings: mentions of insomnia, a bit of anxiety, other than that I think we are good? :)

Word count: 4.4k

Summary: Coffee and warm chocolate croissants can go down a sweet, sweet road.

A/N: Hello, this is so far my longest fic created and I hope it is likeable. Super huge thanks to @dontaskshhhhh for helping me throughout the whole phone call part. I’m so socially awkward, it’s embarrassing lol. The phone call was slightly inspired by the song 10000 hours hehe. Remember to send in an ask if you’d like to be tagged in the following parts to Quarantine with Bangtan. Enjoy. 💜

Sleeping at night was always hard so finding different methods to sleep have become hopeless. Y/n has tried almost about everything that could come up in her mind. Ranging from aromatherapy to melatonin supplements, nothing seemed to work. Even avoiding the small afternoon naps after coming from work have made it worse. Fearing the dark corners of the room but disliking the bright light coming from the television, it was hard. White noise seemed to help but it could not be too loud. Sleepless nights were rough but can be dealt with coffee in the morning.

That's until he came in the picture. It was any other ordinary day, walking into the nearby coffee shop to get an iced Americano for herself and a chocolate croissant as a ‘thank you for covering for me while I was running late again’ gift to her beloved coworker.

The wait for her order to come was slightly longer than usual and she could not stop the wave of anxiousness flowing through her body. She wondered how her coworker would scold her for being far more late than usual. Y/n started to unknowingly, pick at her nails while she waited for her order to be called up.

“Iced Americano and a chocolate croissant to go!”

Snapping out of her daze, she walked forward to grab a hold of her items, when she was met with a larger hand above hers. Immediately, her hand froze as she let out a gasp. The larger hand was removed quickly as soon as the gasp came out of her lips. Her body jolted backwards at the action and ended up bumping into the chest of whoever the large hand belonged to. Too scared to bring up her gaze, she apologized to the owner of the large hand. Hearing nothing, she feared being told off for grabbing the drink. Stumbling over her thoughts, she mustered all the courage she could to bring her gaze up to the most likely angry person.

Instead of being met with an angry person, she was met with locks of mint colored hair covering their face. Their gaze was focused on the floor as their hand moved to the nape of their neck, blocking Y/n’s view from their face. Worried, she stepped slightly closer to get a look of the person's face.

“Hey, are you okay? I’m so sorry about that, I hope I didn’t hurt you.” She spoke softly as she slowly raised up her hand to see if the person was okay.

Y/n softly touched the person’s shoulder and luckily her hand was not swatted away. She took note of the person’s comfortable outfit as she calmly waited for a response. They were wearing an over sized black hoodie, dark blue jeans with a few rips here and there along with some black combat boots. Comfortable indeed. She stared in awe of the mint colored tresses on the head of the person standing before her. Y/n wanted to reach out to see if they were as soft as they appeared but she didn’t want to push her luck too much. The locks of mint colored hair moved to slowly allow their gazes to meet.

She was finally granted sight of the minty haired person’s face. Y/n was not expecting to be met with such a delightful sight. Letting her eyes wander, she noticed the soft features of the guy standing before her. Starting from his lips, they were a soft hue of pink, they looked slightly chapped but she wondered how soft they would feel. Moving her gaze up little by little, she took note of the faint mole near the top on his button nose. Too busy admiring his features, she did not notice him admiring her features as well.

Their eyes met and they both shied away from each other's gazes. Both faces were flushed and avoided eye contact at all costs. Luckily, the barista called out another order of an iced Americano and a chocolate croissant. Once again, looking at each other, their eyes widened realizing they had ordered the exact same thing. Smiling softly at each other, they walked up to the counter to retrieve their items.

The mint haired guy reached out for the first order that was out on the counter before the incident while handing the one that was recently put out to her. Curiously looking up at the guy with a questioning gaze, he let out a soft chuckle.

“It’s fresher so I’ll let you have it. I’m okay by the way. Not hurt in any way, I was just startled.”

“Oh! Are you sure? I don’t mind, it’s still a drink.”

“It’s perfectly okay...”

“Y/n. L/n Y/n. I am sorry for that.”

“I’m Yoongi, Min Yoongi. Nice to meet you. No need to worry sweetheart, it’s my fault after all, I did reach out after you’ve gotten a hold of it.”

“Thank you Yoongi, I’ll see you around?”

“Definitely sweetheart.”

Y/n smiled at him one last time before walking out of the coffee shop flustered. She wondered if she would still see him around as she rushed to her job. Work seemed to pass by in a flash and in no time, she was back home to finally rest. Falling asleep that night was easy because all that was replaying in her mind was the sound of Yoongi’s soft voice.

The next day was a much brighter one, thanks to the extra hours of sleep. The whole walk to the coffee shop was full of hope to see the Yoongi once again. Arriving at the coffee shop, Y/n began to pick at her fingernails in nervousness when she entered the door. Immediately getting hit with the smell of freshly brewed coffee, she took a deep breath in letting the scent calm her down.

Looking around for the mop of minty locks, she frowned when they were nowhere to be found. Y/n let her feet trail her to the line to get her usual order as she let out a sigh.

“Good morning, sweetheart.” Y/n gasped at the sudden voice that spoke from behind her. Recognizing the voice right away, her face flushed while she hoped that he didn’t catch her scanning the coffee shop for him. Turning around, she offered Yoongi a warm smile. He moved up to be next to her as they moved forward in the line.

“Good morning Yoongi.”

“It is a good morning indeed. I thought I wouldn’t see you around after yesterday.”

“Me? I’m not going anywhere any time soon.”

“That’s good to hear, I’m glad I didn’t scare you off.”

“You scaring me? I bumped into you. If anything, I feel like I did enough to scare you off.”

“I’m happy for that, I wouldn’t have met you if you didn’t bump into me. Plus, a cute little thing like you could never scare me away.” Feeling heat rush to her face, she figured it was going to natural now when in the presence of Yoongi.

“U-um...Y/n?”

“Yes Yoongi?” Sensing a pinch of nervousness laced in his soft voice, she turned around to look up at him to let him know that he had her full undivided attention. Noticing her attention on him, his hands immediately went into the front pocket of his dark colored jeans and avoided all eye contact with Y/n.

Noticing his shy behavior, she placed her hand on his arm and offered him a warm smile when he finally looked at her. Smiling back at her, he took a deep breath to calm his nerves.

“I-It may seem a bit ridiculous considering the fact that we are standing here but would you let me treat you for coffee or anything you’d like?”

“Coffee with you? I’d love that.” Hearing those words come out of her lips, Yoongi released a breath he did not know he was holding.

Noticing that the line was nearing the front of the cash register, he placed his hand gently on the small of her back to guide her up the line as it advanced. Affected by the action, Y/n felt her heart pound in her chest as she felt her face flush for the hundredth time that day. She was faced with Yoongi’s black knitted sweater along with the faint aroma of laundry detergent. Yoongi glanced down at Y/n, eyes widening once he took note of how close they were.

“Hello, how may I help you today?” Both of them looked ahead of them while mentally thanking the cheerful cashier for snapping them out of the little moment.

“Go ahead sweetheart.”

“Um hello, can I get an Iced Americano and a chocolate croissant?”

“Can you make that two of each please?” Y/n felt her breath hitch as she felt Yoongi’s presence behind her. Once the cashier read out the price, Y/n tried to reach into her bag to grab her wallet but before she could, Yoongi held her hand and told her that he had it.

Eyesight falling from his face to gaze at his larger hand holding hers, Y/n felt her cheeks burn up at view. She muttered a small ‘thank you’ once he paid for the both of them.

Side by side, they walked to a few empty stools to sit on while they waited for their orders to be prepared. Pulling out the chairs for the both of them, Yoongi waited for Y/n to sit down first so he could take a seat as well. As he waited, he felt his heart swell up at the sight of Y/n struggling to get on the wooden stool. Once she got settled down, he sat right next to her.

Y/n’s eyes narrowed down at how easily Yoongi was able to slide into the stool. Watching her little fit of frustrations, he couldn't help but laugh at the observation. She tried to keep up the ‘angry’ look but eventually gave in to join his laughter. Once they both calmed down, they relaxed back into the wooden stools as their gazes met once again. Yoongi offered a small smile before he took the initiative to break the comfortable silence between them.

“Do you come here everyday sweetheart?”

“Pretty much, I live off of these coffees. How about you?”

“I think I started coming here about two weeks ago. Now, I think I’ll be coming more often. It feels so nice here, it feels so...”

“Soothing?”

“Yeah, I needed to get some fresh air and instead I got the aroma of freshly brewed coffee in my lungs.”

“That’s the highlight of my day.”

“I think it’ll start being mine too.” Looking back at Yoongi, Y/n noticed his cheeks tinted with a soft pink color while his eyes avoided her lingering ones. His gaze darted to hers once he heard Y/n giggle. Softly smiling along, he noticed his fingers were itching to hold her hand and whisper sweet words to her. Luckily, he didn’t get the chance to embarrass himself as the barista called out their orders.

“Stay here sweetheart.”

Once again, Yoongi mentally thanked the barista for snapping him out of his daze as he walked to receive their orders. Coming back to the beautiful girl that caught his eye, he handed her the coffee and warm croissant.

“Thank you Yoongi. Unfortunately, I have to go before I’m late to work.”

“No worries sweetheart. If it’s not too much for me to ask, is it fine if we can exchange phone numbers… we don’t have to if yo-”

Chuckling at his little stammering, Y/n unlocked her phone and handed it to Yoongi. Slightly embarrassed, Yoongi focused his gaze on her phone to type his number and his name with a little heart on the end. He tapped on the call button so he could get her number as well. Once he felt his phone ring in his pocket, he handed hers back to playfully answer the ringing phone.

“Hello sweetheart.”

“Hello Yoongi.” They could have sworn that they looked like complete idiots smiling at each other to anyone who was in the coffee shop but they did not care.

“As much as I want to stay here with you, I have to get to work.”

“It’s okay. I’ll see you tomorrow sweetheart.”

“See you tomorrow Yoongi.” As Y/n walked out of the coffee shop after getting her things, her phone chimed notifying her that she received a message. Carefully balancing her iced drink on one hand as she unlocked her phone, she smiled when another message popped up on her screen.

‘I hope you have a wonderful day at work and well all day overall sweetheart. I can’t wait to see you tomorrow.’

Y/n looked back into the coffee shop to spot Yoongi already looking at her. She brought up her hand to wave as she mustered up a bright smile.

Her phone chimed once more and her eyes widened seeing the message of her coworker asking if she had to cover for her again. Quickly, she typed a text back letting her know that she’d be there in six minutes. Before starting her walk, she took a deep breath in and released it with a content smile on her face. To her, that coffee tasted much better than any other day along with the warm chocolate croissant that seemed to make her heart warm up at every bite.

That content smile remained for the rest of the day, not even the loads of work that her boss piled on her desk was enough to bring her down. Almost exactly like the day before, work passed by once again in a flash and she was ready to go home. The walk home was not far but it seemed to pass by much more quickly than any other day.

Once Y/n was able to reach her home, she directly walked to the restroom to prepare for bed. As she passed her bedroom, her bed looked so comforting and she could have sworn it was calling out her name. Giggling at the thought, she made her way into the bathroom and turned on the water to the shower. As she waited for the water to adjust to the preferred temperature, she removed the clothes she wore for the day. Before she hopped in, she turned on a soothing playlist on her phone and set it down on the bathroom counter where it would not fall.

Feeling the water pour over her head, she pretended that her worries and troubles were being washed away along with the rose scented soap she lathered on. Once she felt she was clean enough, she wrapped a towel around her body as she stepped out. Gathering her phone, Y/n walked back into her bedroom humming the tunes she heard while she showered.

Tossing her phone on the bed, she stood in front of her wardrobe looking for what to wear for the night. Settling in for an over sized shirt, she hung the towel on the hook by her wardrobe to dress up.

When everything seemed just right, she let herself fall right in the middle of the bed. The phone next to her head chimed and Y/n bubbled with excitement in hopes that it was the guy with the minty hair. Sounding out his name, she realized that his name had a nice sound to it, she loved it. Or maybe she loved the guy that name belonged to.

Shaking her head at the thought, she unlocked her phone and read the message. Her heart skipped a beat for the thousandth time that day.

‘Hello, sweetheart. I hope it’s not too late for you but is it okay if I call you?’

‘I don’t mind Yoongi.’

Before she could pause to think if the message was decent enough to send, her own fingers betrayed her mind and it sent her heart into a frantic state. She’s talked to the guy before but it does not ease down her racing heart. Before she had any more intruding thoughts, her phone rang and her breath hitched. Once again, her fingers had a mind of their own and answered the call.

“Hello sweetheart.”

“H-hi Yoongi.”

“I hope I didn’t wake you up.”

“No, I just laid down so no worries. So Yoongi, to what do I owe the honor for this call?”

“Um well… I just… well I wanted to hear your voice.”

Feeling ecstatic, Y/n shifted around to place her burning cheeks on her cool pillow as she let out a giggle. Part of her wished she could see his face but the other part of her is thankful that he doesn’t get to see the outcome of his words.

“It’s just that you have a soothing voice and well, calling is so much easier than texting.”

Y/n stumbled upon her words as she tried to mentally gather what to say back to Yoongi but before she could embarrass herself any more, he started talking again.

“The rain looks really nice tonight. Is it raining with you?”

“I actually didn’t notice it until you brought it up. It is soothing.”

“Do you love the rain?”

“Does it make you dance?”

Bursting into a fit of laughter, Y/n tried to muffle her laugh with her pillow to listen to Yoongi’s. She decided at that moment that it was definitely one of her favorite sounds in the world. After calming down, she let out a sigh as she felt her body less tense than when the phone call started.

“Tired of me already?”

“No, I could never. I’m enjoying this Yoonie.”

“Yoonie? I like the sound of that sweetheart.”

“Really? Good, now I have a nickname for you too. I gave you my name and you still use sweetheart.”

“I just wanted to know more about you and I still do.”

“Feelings mutual Yoonie. Tell me something that’s on your mind.”

“I’m glad to hear that. Well, the only thing that comes to my mind other than you is that I need to finish the song that’s sitting on top of my piano.”

“You play the piano? You’ve gotta play something for me someday.”

“Actually, I can play a part of it and you can tell me if you like it or not.”

“Play me a song piano man.”

“Very funny, here we go. Ready sweetheart?”

“Ready Yoonie.”

Shifting was heard in the background, Y/n imagined that he was getting comfortable so she adjusted herself to lay comfortably on her side and brought her knees near her chest. Y/n turned the speaker on and pressed it close to her chest, hoping that Yoongi wouldn’t hear her heartbeat.

At the sound of the first few notes, she let her eyes close to enjoy the sound coming from the other side of the line. Mellow tunes were being played so gracefully that Y/n felt as if she were floating in the softest clouds.

The peace and warmth that enveloped in her body was indescribable but it was enough to bring her comfort that she did not know she was missing. Tiredness was consuming her body but instead of giving in she tried to keep her eyes open to listen to the beautiful melody that Yoongi played so gracefully. The peaceful melody eventually came to an end and Yoongi’s soft voice made an appearance again.

“I still need to work on it but it’s almost finished, did you like it?”

“Yoonie that was so beautiful, I loved it so much. What’s the name of the masterpiece?”

“Ah, I’m really happy to hear that. You’ll know the name pretty soon if everything works out sweetheart.”

“Hmm, I’m excited for that day to come. I’m sure whatever name you choose, it’ll be amazing.”

“ Thank you sweetheart. Your nickname suits you very well.”

“You know, your voice is pretty soothing too.”

“Ah you heard that.”

“Were you hoping for me not to hear it?”

“Part of me did but the other part of me is happy you did.”

Before she could answer back, a yawn escaped her mouth.

“Sleepy?”

“A little.”

“You should try to get some sleep sweetheart.”

“Already trying to get rid of me Yoonie?”

“Not at all but who am I to keep a princess from getting beauty sleep.”

“Very funny, I’m enjoying this conversation a lot but I don’t want to fall asleep on you.”

“Go ahead and sleep, I’ll be here when you need me to be sweetheart.”

“Will I see you tomorrow Yoongi?”

“I’ll be there waiting for you.”

“Good, I’ll see you tomorrow. Good night Yoonie, sleep well.”

“Sweetest dreams to you sweetheart.”

Sighing as Y/n finally let sleep consume her, she does not remember if she ended the call or not but she could not bring herself to check. She heard a faint chuckle before she drifted off to another restful sleep.

When Y/n walked into the coffee shop the next morning, Yoongi had been waiting for her along with their orders of iced Americanos and warm chocolate croissants.

As each day passed by, their mornings became dates whenever they found free time in their busy schedules. As each week passed by, they became more comfortable with each other. As each month passed by, their feelings became stronger for each other which led Yoongi to confess with a mixtape labeled as ‘Honey FM’.

Waking up to an empty bed was slightly disappointing but hearing the soft tunes flowing out of the piano made up for it. Smiling to herself, she stretched out and released a couple of tired yawns. Y/n would have made the bed but she knows that somehow they’ll end back under the comfortable sheets pretty soon.

Following the source of the soft tunes playing until she caught sight of her boyfriend sitting in front of the piano with his eyes closed while his hands flowed up and down the piano gracefully.

Zoning out, she remembers the nights where they cuddled together. There were nights where he’d be the big spoon and there were nights where he would be the little spoon, she loved both especially when one of his arms were wrapped around her body while his other hand was intertwined with hers. When she was sure he had fallen asleep, she would bring up the hand that she held and place soft kisses on them. She felt as if the action was showing her wordless appreciation towards him even if he was asleep.

Little did she know that he would sometimes still be awake. The first time she had done it his heart warmed up and he wanted nothing more than to turn her around to place the most love packed kisses he could muster up but he didn’t want to startle her. So he would pretend to be sound asleep just to watch her display so much affection, his heart never seemed to cool down at the affection.

Snapping back to reality, she slowly walks up behind her boyfriend bringing her hands up to place them softly on his shoulders. Smiling to herself when he shifted his head to the side to let her hand caress his face. He let a soft sigh escape his lips as Y/n placed a soft kiss on the apple of his cheek.

“Baby?”

“Yes sweetheart?”

“Can you show me how to play?”

“You want to learn?”

“If you don’t mind showing me, yes.”

“Come here baby.” Yoongi grabbed Y/n’s hand from his shoulder and led her around to have her sit on his lap. He wrapped his arms around her waist to pull her into a small loving embrace once she got comfortable enough.

“I’m not a good teacher but I’ll play something short and easy for you to learn. How does that sound?”

“Perfect Yoonie, I think you’ll do amazing!” He tightened his hold around Y/n’s waist as he placed a peck on her cheek.

He stretched his arms in front of them to place his hands above the keys, instructing Y/n to place her hands on top of his. Nuzzling against the crook of her neck, he started to test out a few keys to warm up.

“I want you to guess the song I’m going to play. Ready sweetheart?”

“Ready.”

Nodding, Yoongi began to move his fingers on the keys playing notes gracefully while Y/n’s fingers tried to remember the keys he played. Once she caught on to the song, her heart warmed up to the sound he played. It was the song he made for Y/n when they first met. She remembered the little mixtape he gifted her along with that song were many covers of the songs she liked. The most unforgettable part of the mixtape was the little handwritten letters with shiny black letters reading out ‘Honey FM’ with a tiny little heart at the end. It was sweet indeed.

Y/n shifted in Yoongi’s lap slightly to place her forehead on his and give him a small peck on his slightly chapped lips.

“Baby, as much as I’d love to continue kissing your lovely lips, I will need you to pay attention. I promise that I’ll give you all the kisses you want as long as you learn this.”

“Promise?”

“Promise.”

“Okay Yoonie.”

Once again, he unwrapped his arms from around Y/n and put them on the keys of the piano while she took in a deep breath to calm her heart down. Years after being together, she expected to get used to this feeling but he always found a way to speed up her heart and she did not mind one bit.

“Okay. I’ll go slow about a few tries and then once you memorize them, I want to see you try on your own.”

“Do you think I’ll learn it quickly?”

“If you set your heart to it, yes. Even if you don’t learn it, I’ll be here every step of the way.”

“Let’s get started then. Show me your ways piano man.”

“Slow down princess, we have all quarantine to learn this.”

“That’s not what I’m eager for. I want my unlimited kisses so let’s get learning.”

Chuckling underneath Y/n, Yoongi placed one last kiss on the back of her ear before getting ready to play again.

“Let’s get learning then sweetheart.”

#thetruthretold #kpopficsnetwork #yoongi x female reader #yoongi fluff imagine #yoongi imagine #min yoongi imagine #reader x yoongi #yoongi oneshot #yoongi drabbles #yoongi fluff drabbles #yoongi fluff oneshot #quarantine with bangtan #mint yoongi #yoongi fic #bts fic #kpop fic #bts x reader #mint yoongi fluff

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moral-turpitudes · 4 years ago

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Deal with the Devil: Ch. 2

Trigger Warnings: Swearing, Angst.

Characters: Thomas Shelby x Isla Maxwell (OC)

Word Count: 1,274

Chapters: 1 | 2 | 3 | 4 | 5 | 6 | *7* | 8 | 9 | 10

The rain picked up over the streets of Small Heath as the sun peered through the clouds, illuminating the otherwise dreary shop of Shelby Company Limited. The chatter amongst the workers buzzing through the air as the newest addition to parliament sat in his office, quietly going over paperwork. The peaceful silence only temporary, as a familiar booming voice rang near him.

“Tom! You have a letter. Quite fancy fookin’ writing if you ask me.” Arthur said, slapping the letter in front of Thomas as he smoked at his desk.

With a raised eye brow he opened it, glancing at the thin handwriting.

“Greetings Mr. Thomas Shelby,

I’m sorry to hear your assassination attempts on Mr. Oswald Mosley went awry. It was quite sad to watch.

If given the chance, I would like to help you...considering we seem to have the same goal in mind. You see, I managed to get the location of the next rally out of the three men that were missing from his meeting this month, but it was a bit bloody as you can see. If you’d like to continue your efforts, I’d be glad to help. But it most definitely will be at a cost.

- I.”

Thomas read, sitting the letter on his desk before downing the last of his whiskey.

“That bad aye?” Arthur asked, sitting across from him.

“This person wants to take down Mosley. After all that’s happened...I was ready to end it but then this comes through my fucking door aye?” He said, slamming his glass down.

“Handwritings a bit odd, what’s the red stains on the bottom?” Arthur asked.

“Looks like the bloody thumbprints of the men that went missing this month.” Tommy said, looking at the dried prints with tired eyes.

“Jesus.” Arthur remarked, getting up from his seat.

“They said they’d help...but it would be at a cost.” Thomas said.

“Right, well you have fun with that brother. I’m not messing around with mafia shit Tom. Not again.” He said, running a nervous hand over the scar around his neck before walking out the door.

Thomas sighed and looked at the letter, his eyes wandering to an address on the top. It was an unusual one at that. No one ever went there unless they had to, but this whole thing was bizarre in itself.

The cold air nipped at his skin as he walked through the gate and past the tombstones. The letter in hand as he went towards the morgue. With a loud knock, the mortician opened the door, wearing a toothy grin on his face.

“I’m here to deliv-“ Tommy began, watching the man put his finger up to his mouth in a shushing gesture.

“Can’t talk. Thank you.” He said, grabbing the letter and shutting the door.

Tommy stood there for a moment, his usually stoic face a bit confused as he left the cemetery.

When he arrived back at the shop, all was well until he got back in his office.

“Did you deliver it?” Arthur asked.

“Yes.” He said, sitting down at his desk.

“Well what did they say?”

“Nothing. Said he couldn’t say, so he just grabbed it and sent me on my way...Arthur, out of all the deals I’ve done this is the most bizarre one of all...” He said, lighting a cigarette.

“You know how to pick em’ Tommy-boy. I’ll give ya that.” He said, walking out to pester Polly and Michael who’d been discussing their business dealings in America.

At Isla’s apartment, she sat at her desk, nursing a glass of wine as she twirled her pocket knife in her hand, aiming for the dart board across from her.

Just as she flung the knife towards it, Jay walked in, almost fatally colliding with its tip.

“Jesus. I didn’t even say anything yet and you’re trying to kill me boss?” He asked.

“Knock next time, Jay.” She said, getting up to retrieve it from the bullseye.

“What’s the news?”

“Well he got the letter. I picked his up where you asked. That mortician is one weird fellow.” He said.

“He’s happy to be doing something besides cutting up bodies all day. I can’t say I blame him. It’s hard to do.” She said lighting a cigarette.

“Well here’s his letter. Hope it was worth our time.” He said, rubbing his hand along the back of his neck anxiously and leaving her to read it.

“Hey before you go...here’s your check....make sure to give the boys their pay though. If I forget again they’ll be sniffing at my door like dogs.” She said, handing him the three envelopes.

“Thank you. I’ll do that. Let me know when you need that sent out.” He said, a nervous gait in his walk as he went towards the door.

“Will do, now fuck off.” She said, opening the letter as she sat down, not registering his nervousness. She waited until he was gone though to read it, sighing as she exhaled smoke once again.

“Hello “I,”

Thank you for reaching out. I do apologize for the botched assassination. It was supposed to be a show for the ages but I guess he was meant to live another day.

Unfortunately for us, that day has turned into one too many.

In light of that, I’m writing this to let you know I accept your offer. Therefore I’m willing to pay you for your efforts. Just name your price and I’ll name mine.

- T.S.”

She smirked, knowing she struck a nerve criticizing his failed attempt. But nevertheless she wrote back, surprised she even got a response in such a timely manner.

“Hello, Mr. Shelby,

I’m glad you accepted my offer. I will accept 300 pounds as my price. Consider it a deposit, if you will.

Therefore, I expect this amount in the next week, especially if you want the location.

I’ve named my price. Now it’s your turn.

- “I”

She wrote, folding the paper neatly and tucking it into another sleek, black envelope. It was her favorite color after all, easy to hide at night, and a reminder of what she’d fought for, with death and all things considered.

As she made her way to her room, she opened her journal, where she kept a detailed record of every interaction she’d had with targets or connections, along with letters she’d written and received, knowing one day she may need the information.

With a sigh, she sat on her bed as she quickly jotted the information down. The dim light from the morning sun seeping in through the windows as she glanced at the thick, bounded book. Often at night she’d lie awake after writing, dozing off into a nightmare. Seeing the flames and hearing her mother’s screams, causing her to thrash awake with heavy breaths. The scar often burning in the vivid dream, making her wary of it after waking up, with the raised skin reminding her of everything she’d lost.

When she wasn’t consumed by the nightmares, during the day she was training in her apartment or visiting her dads friend who’d aged terribly over the years. Even though she put up a wall between her and everyone else, she always let him in. But she hated the thought of being alone in the world again, knowing it was inevitable.

That seemed to be her one vice in life, knowing things were inevitable. Knowing almost everything and everyone were finite and fragile. She’d always had a bit of wanting to save the world in her, but she knew not everyone could be saved, and that’s what tore her up the most.

#peaky blinders fanfic #peaky blinders #thomas shelby #thomas shelby x oc #thomas shelby x reader #thomas shelby x female!reader

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blackholesandlions · 4 years ago

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SPOILER WARNING

So I was reading ToN and I got to the part about not being able to destroy the fasces, and my mind started racing with ideas so I got down my idea of how the book would end before reading the rest of it, just to see how wrong I was. Anyway I ended up liking it a lot so here’s my alternate ending to the Tower of Nero

Warning this makes no sense if you’ve read any point in the book past where I stopped, so keep that in mind.

Nero’s words still rang in my mind. “You haven’t destroyed it yet, because you can’t. Even if you could, you’d release so much power it would burn you to cinders.” After he said that we ran, fast. He didn’t even bother calling the guards on us. He knew Python would get us first.

I was at the back of the group, because I was carrying the fasces, and it weighed me down. This thing had Nero’s soul in it, it was the only way to kill him, but breaking it would destroy everything around it. And even then, there was still no way to defeat Python. I’m not strong enough to take him out. If only there was some way to… oh. It’s so obvious, why didn’t I think of it earlier? Well, I don’t even want to think about it now, but it’s my only option that gets everyone out safely.

I stopped walking, and the rest of them turned to face me. Rachel asked, “Apollo, what are you doing? We need to keep moving.” I steeled my nerves. “I have a plan to take out Nero and Python in one move.”

“Great, let’s hear it,” Lu said. “No. No time. I need all of you to run, run as far as you can. I’m going to take them out, but you need to be out of the blast zone. Don’t come back for me.” I half wished somebody would protest, say no Apollo, we can’t let you sacrifice yourself, but they nodded, and ran.

Except Meg. Meg was holding back tears.

“Let me help, Lester. You can’t do it on your own.”

“I know.”

“Then how-”

“Destroying the fasces will incinerate anything around it. I’m not strong enough to break it, but he is.”

Meg wasn’t even holding the tears back at this point. She was crying. Over me. “Lester, you can’t,” she sobbed. “You’ll die!”

I pull her into a hug. “Hey, that’s the price of being human.”

“Now go.” She nodded, and gave me a weak smile before turning to run.

I rummaged through my bag, looking for anything to secure the heavy fasces. After a bit of searching I find what I’m looking for. Oh, thank the gods for Duct Tape, truly one of mankind’s greatest inventions. I strap the fasces to my back and shuffle onward towards my doom.

When I finally got there, my old enemy Python has wrapped his way around the entire chamber. His eyes are closed, so he doesn’t see me approaching, and for a second I have to admit, I’m tempted to just flee. Give up this lapse in judgement and live the rest of my mortal life hiding in shame.

But Jason didn’t think like that. Or maybe he did, I guess I have no real way of knowing. Maybe he was just as terrified as I am right now, hesitant to sign his own death warrant. But nevertheless, he jumped into the fray and sacrificed himself to save his friends. So had all the heroes I’ve met on my journey. They were so brave, much braver than I will ever be. But I owe this to them.

“Python!” I yelled into the echoey cavern. Names have power, especially for immortals. Calling the name of someone who wants to kill you is a death wish. But it sure got his attention.

The enormous serpent opened its eyes, the size of lakes, and stared right at me. “Little Lester,” he growled in that horrible voice. “You appear to be all by yourself, but that can’t be possible. I’m sure you have a whole cavalry hidden with some sort of magic. You might as well reveal yourselves, it won’t make a difference.”

I was frozen, shaking. I remember Python well, he terrified me back when I was a god, as a human teen his presence was simply too much. “No,” I squeaked out. I held on to any courage I had. “It’s just me.”

Python smiled, but tilted his head in confusion. “Then how on Earth do you intend to fight me?”

I dropped my bow and ukulele. “I’m not here to fight.”

Now he was incredulous, and angry as well. “I am going to consume you, your entire essence. You will be destroyed, and I will control this world’s future, and you mean to say you aren’t going to fight it?”

“I’m doing this so my friends can survive.”

Python reeled his head back. “Are you sure you’re Apollo?” He hissed. “No immortal in their right mind would be so cavalier with their existence.”

At that I had to laugh. “I don’t think I was ever in my right mind until I was cast down here. I was arrogant, selfish, and cruel. I cared only for myself. But worst of all, I treated mortals like they were expendable. Insignificant humans, good for a laugh, or a duet, or to fetch me something.

“But these people, they live lives that are so full of value and meaning. They form connections that I’ve never had, bonds stronger than anything you or I are capable of. And then… they end. And humans come to terms with it, they accept it. Their lives are so short, but more full than mine ever was. And if sacrificing my life means that they can live another day, then I am fully willing to do so.”

Python was quiet for a moment, looking almost contemplative. Then he curled his sharp teeth into a menacing grin. “Well, Apollo, one thing certainly hasn’t changed about you. You’re still a fool.”

He unhinged his terrifying jaws, and I dove in without hesitation. In the moment before we collided, I could see myself reflected in his eyes. My face was determined and resigned, but my eyes were the real. They were glowing bright orange, two burning orbs, bright and harsh like the unforgiving desert sun.

I could see Python, my oldest enemy, finally recognize me. His mouth didn’t move, but his expression morphed into one of pure terror.

And then he clamped his jaw down.

A fang came down right on top of me, the impact puncturing my body and shattering my spine. The pain was searing, I was probably a few seconds away from death, when I heard a hum from near me. My plan had been a success after all, the fasces was shattered as well, and was slowly getting brighter and brighter, and I could hear Python screaming out in pain. In a burst of light, we were both gone.

I don’t quite remember being dead. I didn’t have any thoughts, not even a haiku crossed my mind. The only reason I knew I was still there was the pain. It got duller and fuller over time, and I started to worry if that meant I was fading away, out of existence. But even then, that barely concerned me. I knew Python was gone, I had done my job. If I faded away now, it didn’t matter, my friends were alive and safe.

And then suddenly I was alive. The first thing I saw was my sister. She was sitting next to me, arm around my shoulder like she did when we were little. “I’m glad you’re here.” I had never heard those words from Artemis before. I started to tear up. “Zeus wants to see you.”

It took me a while to remember how, but I appeared in my father’s palace, right in front of him. I saw his glowering expression. Then I heard his stern, familiar tone. “You were not supposed to die. It took all I had to bring you back this much, but even now…

“You’re still a god, but not powerful like you used to be. You’re on the level of the most minor of deities, not an Olympian. I know this must be very upsetting to you.”

The strangest thing was, it wasn’t. I had lost my status, most of my power, I should be furious at how diminished I’ve become, but it didn’t bother me in the slightest. Alarming, to say the least.

For some reason, my mind kept drifting back to Camp-Half Blood. My children, all the others I had saved, and my brother, Dionysus, still stuck there. It was odd how happy he had been, just to have someone else to work with. I hadn’t seen him that excited since he was first sent to that camp. I had laughed at the time, but now I think his punishment was no better than mine.

Zeus cleared his throat. “Well, at least you’ve learned your lesson now.” I looked at my father, the man who had caused all of this in the first place. “I’ve learned many lessons, Father.”

“I’m glad you’ve learned how to respect me now, Apollo.” Suddenly I was overcome with anger. This… god consistently refused to take responsibility for his actions, and never took into account anyone’s feelings but his own. He was callous, and egotistical, and awful.

But, that’s just what I was like before my journey, wasn’t it? I was just as awful as he is. But I’m better than that now. I don’t have to go back to the way I was, I can make changes. We gods always said we were stuck as we were, that we needed mortals to change things, or we would keep repeating our history forever.

But the truth is, we could have changed at any time, we just refused to accept that we were the same as humans. We refused to accept that we could be wrong, in need of changes. We just continued pretending we were perfect, because we are cowards. I was a coward. But not anymore. And I am going to write my own prophecy, change my future.

“No, actually, I think that’s the one class I skipped.” He furrowed his brow. “What. Did. You. Say.”

“You need to release Dionysus from his post at Camp-Half Blood. Now.” Thunder roared throughout mount Olympus. “That insolent child hasn’t served his full punishment yet!”

“Doesn’t matter. I’ll be taking over his post effective immediately.”

When I appeared at Camp-Half Blood that day, I kept myself invisible at first. I wanted to see what was going on at camp before I made my presence known. The scenery was always beautiful, but now I looked at it with a sense of nostalgia. Not just as a place to pop in and show off to the young demigods. But as a home.

The first thing I spotted was, in fact, spotted. It was my brother, in his usual ugly leopard print shirt. The second thing I spotted was Percy Jackson and Annabeth Chase, at camp. I had last heard they were at Camp Jupiter, but they were here now.

Percy and Dionysus were arguing loudly with each other. I caught a snippet of it. “Look Mr. D, me and Annabeth were on the other side of the country, you can’t just teleport us here on a whim!” Dionysus sighed. “It’s not a whim, Peter Johnson, I brought you two here so you could hear my big announcement! Ah, speaking of!”

He amplified his voice, and began. “Attention campers! Please proceed to the courtyard immediately, I have a very important announcement to make!”

Head counselors shuffled kids out of their cabins until everyone was in the courtyard. I heard some kids muttering things like “ugh, this better not be another end of the world.”

Mr. D cleared his throat. “Now that I have your attention, see you losers!” There were cries of confusion from the crowd. “That’s right, Zeus has lifted my punishment early, which means I don’t have to take care of you brats anymore!” He looked almost giddy. He looked to where I was standing, invisible, because of course gods can see each other, and gave me a nod of gratitude, before disappearing in a flash, leaving behind a cluster of grapes. I had the feeling he wasn’t coming back.

The camp fully erupted into chaos, children freaking out left and right. Even the oldest around were confused, this was new territory even for them. A young child ended the chaos by crying out “who’s gonna be in charge of the camp?” The campers paused for a moment, before turning their heads to all look at Percy Jackson.

The poor boy looked almost ready to cry. He so desperately wanted to be done with everything, to have a normal life, go to college with his girlfriend. He didn’t want to spend his whole life at this camp. But he sighed, and said “if I have to step up, I will.”

In a flash of golden light, I made myself visible. “That’s very noble of you, Percy, but it won’t be necessary.” The whole crowd was stunned. I had to smile. Despite it all, I still loved a good dramatic entrance. I heard a familiar voice from the crowd say “Lester?”

I had never been so happy to see a little girl with a terrible pageboy haircut. I did a little wave and said “hi Meg,” weakly.

“I THOUGHT YOU WERE DEAD WHAT IS WRONG WITH YOU?” She yelled across the courtyard, but I could see she was smiling.

It occurred to me that I still looked like Lester, and even more surprising, that I hadn’t cared to check. I used to spend hours a day agonizing over what form I took, but it hadn’t crossed my mind this whole time. Even stranger, I didn’t feel like changing to someone more handsome. This Lester form felt somehow fitting to me, like I wouldn’t want to change it at all.

“I kinda did die, but I’m back now, and immortal again. But I’m not Apollo. I’m not anywhere near as powerful as I used to be. I’m not even on the Olympian council anymore.”

“Wait, then there’s an empty spot?” Annabeth asked. “An unbalanced council isn’t good.” I nodded my head. “Yes, that’s why I yielded the post to Hestia. I figured she deserved a turn back in the spotlight.”

Percy grinned. “Wow, man, that’s a lot to give up.”

I sighed. “Yes, it is.” I turned back to Meg, tears welling in my eyes. “It’s good to see you again.” She wiped a tear away from her eye. “Well, are you gonna lead us or not?” I smiled. Never change, Meg, never change.

“Right. I’m running this camp now, and you will see some major changes.” The campers looked nervous, probably remembering Mr. D and all his ideas.

“For starters, I’m creating a parents day here at Camp-Half Blood, twice a summer. I understand that some of you don’t have great relationships with your parents, but there are many who do and wish to see them. For those campers, we will provide safe travel so your parents can be here to see you.”

Some kids looked very excited, especially younger ones who had just been pulled away from their parents. I looked up to the sky for this next point. “And also, attendance from godly parents is mandatory!” The sky rumbled with loud thunder. “Don’t try to fight me on this! You all have infinite time and can be in multiple places at once, there’s no reason you can’t be there for your children for a couple of hours!”

The younger campers definitely all looked ecstatic at that, the prospect of meeting their godly parents. The older campers, though more jaded, still smiled at the idea of their parents being there for them. The kids were all chattering excitedly amongst themselves, until one piped up. “What about quests?”

This was the question I’d been dreading, because I didn’t have a good answer for it. I paused. “Quests and prophecies are an unavoidable part of life as a young hero. However, I am aware of how dangerous and traumatizing they can be. So I am instating a policy. If you have gone on a quest, you do not ever have to go on another. You are allowed to opt out, and the gods have promised they will not hold it against you.”

A half-hearted clap of thunder pulsed through the camp. Percy and Annabeth gave me grateful looks.

“Any more questions?” I asked the camp. My son Will raised his hand. “Yeah, what do we call you? You’re not Apollo anymore, and I’m guessing Mr. A isn’t right either, so who are you exactly?”

That was tricky. I didn’t quite know yet. I was certainly still immortal, yet I felt human, so human. But I think I was starting to get the idea.

“I’m Lester. God of Camp-Half Blood.”

#toa #pjo #riordanverse #trials of apollo #tower of nero #ton #fic #toa spoilers #ton spoilers #pjo spoilers

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2manyfandoms2count · 4 years ago

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#LadynoirJuly Days 20&21

Today I discovered there’s a limit to how many characters you can type into a note on your phone (if you’re wondering, it’s around 15,000). Anyway, it’s already August and I still have 10 days worth of prompts to write, everything is fine XD

I hope you’ll enjoy this double prompt, it’s a long one! I had a lot of fun writing it :D Ladybug finally gives her umbrella back to its rightful owner... It’ll be continued in the next prompt!

@ladynoirjuly2020

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Days 20&21: Déjà vu and Reveal

The skies had been threatening all day. Ominous black clouds hung low over Paris, ready to burst at any moment, charging the air with electricity. Paris anxiously awaited the release, which would bring back the temperature to bearable levels.

Marinette was prepared for any situation. Her bright yellow summer dress allowed her to be comfortable in the heat, while the umbrella at her side guaranteed protection if she was caught in the rain. And also, she hoped, attention from a certain blond-haired boy.

Indeed, she hadn’t picked just any umbrella as she left her place, going for the large black one that had been sitting in the holder for more than a year, instead of her small, practical one. Surely he’d notice. She wasn’t sure she was ready to give what she had come to believe was a symbol of whatever it was that united her and Adrien back to its rightful owner, but she doubted it would come to that.

Walking home at the end of the day, she didn’t know whether to be disappointed or glad it hadn’t. In fact, the boy hadn’t even noticed her unusually large accessory. The thought that perhaps he didn’t remember their fateful conversation in the rain had crossed her mind, but she’d promptly shut it up. Even if he believed it was only the beginning of their friendship, she couldn’t bear to think it had been an inconsequential interaction.

Thus, it was with a feeling of melancholy that the young girl had made it to patrol, her umbrella safely stored inside her yoyo. Chat Noir’s punning and messing around had done little to cheer up his partner.

“You’re claw-fully quiet today, m’lady. What’s bugging you?” He nudged her as they surveilled the city from the top of the Arc de Triomphe. He kept his tone light, but was troubled by her sullenness.

Ladybug sighed profoundly, her hands cupping her face as she leaned against the railing. “Heart troubles.” She pouted. She wished she had Chat Noir’s confidence when it came to love, and his resilience.

“I’m sorry.” He patted her lightly on the back.

“No you’re not.” She snorted, turning around to face him. He was glad he’d gotten at least a smile from her.

“You know me so well, it’s like we’re made for each other.” He smiled, holding himself back from stroking her pigtail. “I just can’t believe there’s someone stupid enough to pass by you, when you’re claw-ly the most amazing person out there.” Marinette came very close. But Ladybug would always be the top of the amazingness scale. He wouldn’t resist her. She had her flaws, but who didn’t?

“He’s far from being stupid.” She sighed again, recalling the perfect Brevet Blanc grades she’d caught him promptly shove in his bag as Madame Bustier distributed them. “Besides, I’m not sure you’d say that if you knew me as a civilian.”

“Bugaboo, the mask is but an accessory.” He said with flourish, earning himself another smile. “Really, it doesn’t change who you are, deep inside. It might give you a boost in confidence, but that’s it. Master Fu wouldn’t have chosen you, otherwise.”

“Thanks, Chaton.” He was right. Of course he was. She knew she was great most of the time, but sometimes, doubt invaded her mind. Mostly when she was trying to start a conversation with Adrien. Why was it so hard for her to keep her cool in those cases? She inched closer to Chat and laid her head upon his shoulder instead of delving into an answer.

She let herself close her eyes for a second. Just then, raindrops started to land on her face. Lightly, at first, almost inconspicuous, making her nose crinkle at the slight inconvenience. Then the rate picked up, and suddenly her eyes were open and she was sprinting with Chat, vaulting themselves off the Parisian monument and onto a nearby rooftop. They ran, their suits preventing them from slipping on the slick slates, and slid down under a parabola for temporary protection, laughing at the thick curtain of rain that surrounded them. It almost concealed their surroundings. A small stream gathering at their feet had them huddle closer under their makeshift shelter to stay dry.

“Want to join your friends?” Ladybug quipped, lightly nudging her partner with her elbow as she eyed the pouring rain.

“Huh?” Chat looked at her inquisitively.

“You know… It’s raining cats and dogs, you’re a cat, all that jazz…” She trailed.

Chat let out a small laugh and shook his head. He loved that Ladybug was trying to joke around more, but she still had a good way to go before reaching his level of ultimate pun king.

He was about to reply wittingly when a nearby church rang 7pm. His face paled.

“I need to get home.” He was expected at the dinner table in fifteen minutes, sharp, in perfect state. His father was gracing him with his presence, for once.

The rain around them was relentless, the clouds somehow darker than they’d been up until then. They had ventured further from his place than usual. It seemed like everything was teaming up to prevent him from getting back on time. He flinched a little as he got ready to pounce out in the rain.

“See you later, m’lady!” He jogged out with an arm held out over his head, which did a poor job protecting his blond mane.

Ladybug watched him run, his hair almost instantly getting soaked. She thought about the contents of her bag. Well, of her yoyo.

“Chaton, wait!” She raced after him as she opened her multifunction weapon. Chat Noir turned in time to see her pull out a large umbrella. He stopped in his tracks as she approached.

“Have this, I’m in no hurry.” She panted slightly as she came to a halt near him.

“You’re a regular Mary Poppins, you know that?”

She laughed as she opened the umbrella and handed it to him.

A flash of lightning illuminated her face as their hands touched on the handle, her mask paling in the bright light.

Chat felt an odd feeling of déjà vu as he received the accessory, although it felt like he was reliving a past scene from another perspective. Aside from the stronger rain, the way they were both standing reminded him of another umbrella handover, one he’d thought about all day. He hadn’t known how to bring it up with Marinette earlier; she probably hadn’t thought twice about what umbrella she’d picked in the morning, and if she did, he definitely didn’t want it to seem like he wanted her to give it back. He liked to think she had something of his, and secretly hoped she did think about him when she saw or used it.

Standing like this, her arm extended towards him so as to protect him from the heavens, he felt like he was in Marinette’s shoes. Over a year ago, the situation had been reversed, the blond boy handing shelter to a girl in pigtails. The umbrella closed upon his head, and Ladybug laughed freely at the sight, just like he had when it had happened.

He laughed along and tried to shake the feeling away, to concentrate on the matter at hand - the clock was ticking - but as he reopened the umbrella, a very familiar logo on the handle caught his eye. It was discreet enough that an untrained eye would miss it. To a common mortal, what he was holding was the most basic black piece of rain equipment one could find. Well, purr-haps not the most basic, but there wasn’t anything particularly exceptional about it. For the son of a designer, though, and more precisely, of the person who’d designed this particular accessory, there was.

Had it been any other piece of clothing from Gabriel designs, Adrien wouldn’t have questioned how Ladybug had come to own it. Although on the expensive side, it wasn’t rare for him to spot Gabriel sneakers like his own, or even jewellery. The prime example was his classmate Sabrina, who wore the same broach his father had designed for his mother.

The umbrella, though, was a different matter. They weren’t sold anywhere, his father deeming their commercialisation was not worth the manufacturing price. They kept the few prototypes at the mansion for their personal use, and if one of the rare clients his father received in person got caught in the rain on his way back. The number of people who owned one could probably be counted on the fingers of a hand.

Since Ladybug was clearly not one of his father’s clients, who were all at least in their early fifties, there were two other options: either she was one of their daughters, or…

Another flash of lightning lit her face up again, and this time it took all of his will not to drop the umbrella, as her mask almost disappeared in the light. If what he saw was real, he truly was the luckiest boy in the world.

“Bugaboo, where did you get this?” He asked slowly.

She frowned in response. “A friend gave it to me, why?” It was just a black umbrella. Apart from Adrien, Chat was the only person she felt confident lending it to. She’d want it back, though.

“Which friend?” He insisted.

“You know I can’t answer that, Chaton.” She pursed her lips. “Also, weren’t you in a hurry?” She inched closer to him to be within the protection perimeter. Her pigtails were already drenched.

He dismissed her question with a wave. “My father can wait. Can I answer how you got it for you?”

“You can try, but I doubt you’ll get the right answer.” She wondered what the big deal was, but listened expectantly. There was no way he could know.

“My guess is that you stood up for yourself and confronted Adrien Agreste on his first day of class, and this was his version of an olive branch. I didn’t peg you as someone who’d give it away to the first alley cat, though… Marinette.” He kept a straight face, but his heart was beating way faster than the healthy range in his chest. Please Kwami, let me be right…

“Ma- ma- Marinette? Me? No. What?” She stuttered, her cheeks flushing a deep crimson shade. “I- er, well, if you do need to know, she’s the one who gave it to me!” She added hastily.

“Are you lying?” Chat leaned towards her with a smirk, and she hated the sense of déjà vu that overcome her. What was it with blond boys questioning her lies by getting in her personal space?

“N- no?” She slapped herself internally for her answer coming out as a question. She usually was more confident than this. She was Marinette, for Kwami’s sake. The chosen Ladybug. The only person she got nervous around was Adrien Agreste. Who, she noted, sometimes acted exactly like her partner was acting right now.

Chat Noir took a step back, his smirk still plastered on his face. “You know, I would believe you, if it weren’t for the fact Marinette was carrying this particular umbrella all day, and then went home to work on our History essay that’s due tomorrow. Not sure there would have been any time for you to swing by.”

Ladybug gaped. “How… You can’t…”

His smiled widely seeing she’d given up on denying her identity. “Possibly know that? Think again, m’lady.” He winked and strolled towards the edge of the building. “Thanks for giving this back to me, I purr-omise I’ll bring it back tomorrow.”

“Adrien?” Her eyes went wide as she realised the implications of his words.

He gave her a salute as he jumped off, his heart still singing at the reveal.

“Wait!” Ladybug yelled out in the night. “You can’t just drop a bomb like this and just leave!”

Her partner had already disappeared behind a building, though.

Ladybug stood helplessly under the rain, thoughts racing through her head. Blasted cat, what am I supposed to do now?

#i'm so late #oh well #ladynoirjuly2020 #ladynoirjuly #ladynoir #ladybug #chat noir #miraculous ladybug #the miraculous adventures of ladybug and chat noir #mlb #adrienette #lowkey #miraculous fanfiction #miraculous fanfic #déjà vu #reveal #miraculous reveal #elle writes

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thebluenebula · 4 years ago

Text

This just an idea I had for a Batfam story. Batman takes in a new child after they lose everything. I don't have any idea where this story will go or if I'll continue it for long.

Masterlist

Day 2

Day 3

A New Bat Pt1

I stepped out of the limo and looked on at the huge mansion looming over me. "Holy shit."

"Indeed Miss Ashleigh." Alfred had gotten out if the car and was now standing beside me. "You head inside now and I'll grab your bags."

"Let me help you Alfred."

"Nonsense. Master Bruce is waiting for you inside. It's best you go see him immediately."

I nodded to him and walked up to the door. It seemed so much larger now that I was in front of it. I knocked gently on in it. Within a minute the huge door swung open and behind it stood Bruce Wayne.

"Welcome to Wayne Manor, Ashleigh."

I looked in awe at the huge entrance hall.

"Ahsleigh. I'm glad that you are here. I tried to make sure most of the children are out today. I imagine meeting them all at once would be overwhelming."

"Exactly how many people live here?" I asked.

Bruce shrugged and laughed a little. "Honestly I'm not sure. It varies from day to day. At any one time there's usually at least eight people here."

"Jeez."

A voice chimed in from behind. "I couldn't have said it better myself."

I turned to see Alfred walking in the door carrying my bags. "Let me help you with those."

"No need Miss Ashleigh. I see no reason in bringing these any further until you have picked a room."

I turned back to Bruce. "I get to pick a room?"

"Well there's quite a few unused room in the manor. I'll get Dick to show you around and you can choose any of the unused rooms."

"Shall I retrieve Master Grayson?" Alfred asked.

"If you wouldn't mind Alfred." Bruce turned back to me. "Dick is my eldest and between us, he has more common sense then most of my other children."

A moment later Dick appeared out of one of the doors. "Alfred said you're ready for me to show the new kid around." He turned to look at me. " And there she is. Nice to meet you, I'm Dick Grayson."

"The names Ashleigh."

"Well Ashleigh, I'll show you around the place." He motioned for me to follow him.

Bruce placed a hand on my shoulder. "You go with Dick and Alfred will prepare dinner. Any allergies or general dislikes he should know about?"

I shook my head. "No none."

Bruce nodded and I took off after Dick.

"B's happy to take you in. Despite the fact he has like a dozen kids he's still not all that good at this parenting thing but he tries. I mean really how bad could he be. I turned out alright.

Dick showed me around the first floor. It had all the practical everyday rooms you would expect in a house. Kitchen, dining room, living room, etc. We chatted as we went through the rooms. Little fun facts about the manor. When it was built, what extensions had been added, etc. He even told me about himself. How he ended up in Bruce's care. He seemed like a nice guy. I'm pretty sure I'll enjoy it here.

"The second floor is mostly like hobby rooms." Dick said as we climbed the stairs to the next floor. "You got any hobbies?"

"I like to draw."

"Well theres a drawing room, a painting room, a music room, a gym, and a room for just about every other hobby you could have."

"Every hobby?"

"Every." Dick put a lot of emphasis on the word.

"Archery?"

"There's a range in the garden.

"Metalwork?"

"There's equipment for that down in the basement, along with woodworking equipment and the sorts."

"How about a shooting range?"

"There's one down in the cave. Jason kept at B until he had one installed."

The idea of Red Hood bugging Batman until he gave in paints a beautiful image in my head.

Dick pointed to a piece of paper hung on the wall. "Steph insisted on putting these maps around on this floor. There's one in almost every hall. She kept getting lost looking for Cass everytime she took up a new hobby."

I examined the map for a moment. "That's a lot of different rooms.""Yeah, it's B's way of showing interest in what were up to. Any time someone mentions an interest in something he has a room renovated to suit that hobby or interest."

"That sounds awesome." I was slightly in awe.

Dick smirked. "Yeah, one of the many perks of being adopted by a billionaire. Babs once complained about the price of cinema tickets, a week later we had an indoor cinema."

"Guess I should just complain a lot." I joked.

Dick laughed. "Anyway I don't think I need to show you around this floor. The maps should be enough direction. Steph works hard to keep them updated." Dick started up the stairs to the third floor. "This floor is all the bedrooms."

Suddenly a shape jumped down from the floor above and landed in from of me. I jumped back and lost my footing. I land back on the second floor. I opened my eyes to see Dick and the shape, a cat, a fuckin cat running down the stairs to me.

"Are you okay Ashleigh?"

I got to my feet. "I'm fine, just a little bruised." I glared at the cat.

"That is Alfred the Cat. He's a bit mischievous."

I watched the cat run off. "Yeah I think I got that. Any other pets I should know about?"

"Well we have two dogs, Ace and Titus, and Batcow."

"Is Batcow a mix between-"

"No, she's just a cow."

"Okay. Yeah a cow bat hybrid would be ridiculous."

"Well should we tour the next level?" Dick gestured up the stairs.

"Sure."

This time we reached the top of the stairs uninterrupted.

"I can't really show you inside the rooms, cause you know invasion of privacy and all that, but I can show you where my room is if you need me, and I'll show you the empty ones."

We walked down a couple of hallways and then stopped outside a door. Dick pushed the door open. "This is my room."

I looked inside. A large double bed against one wall. Gym equipment in the corner but other than that is was pretty ordinary, A dresses and a wardrobe. A big Tv and one one wall a large poster of The Flying Graysons. "It's nice.

"Thank you. Most of my personal belongs are in my apartment in Bludhaven so it's a little bland here. Theres plenty of empty rooms on this floor but I figure you probably want one with a window."

"That'd be nice"

We spent the next twenty minutes or so going through rooms I could choose but to me they all had the same problem. They were two big. I didn't own a lot of stuff. At least I didn't bring a lot of stuff here with me and the last thing I wanted was to be in a big empty room. Eventually we came to a smaller room. I took one step in side and it felt warm. Welcoming even. I turned to Dick. "What about this one?"

"You sure this ones okay? It's a lot smaller than some of the other ones."

"Yeah, its enough room for me." I smiled at him.

"Okay then. Remember you can always change to another one later if this one doesn't suit. I'll have Alfred bring your stuff after dinner."

"I'll bring them up. I'm sure Alfred is busy enough."

Dick smirked. "I think Alfred will like you. Dinners probably nearly ready. You can chill here for a while or wonder around. Just come down to the dining room soon. If you can remeber where it is."

I giggled. "Im sure I'll find it."

He left and I just stood there. Thinking. A month ago my life was completely different but after today everything changes. I smiled out the window. It overlooked the huge back garden. Honestly if I was just passing by the outside I'd assume this place was a hotel. I guess I should go down for dinner. Today is the beginning of a new life.A few flights of stairs and a couple wrong turns later I was in the dining room. The huge table was empty bar Dick sitting near the top.

I sat down across from him. He looked over to me. "Dinner might be another couple of minutes." Looked around to make sure no one else was in the room. "Apparently B tried to help Alfred. Which always ends in disaster."

"Not always." Bruce's voice chimed in from the other side of the room.

Dick flinched at the sound of the voice. "Piece of advice. If you ever talk bad of B, he usually pops up behind you."

Bruce laughed a little and took his seat at the head of the table. "Alfred is just finishing up the meal and will be joining us soon. I hope you enjoy spaghetti bolognese Ashleigh."

"One of my favourites."

"Trust me." Dick chimed in. "Alfred is the best cook in the world."

"While it may not be quite as good as Master Dick says it is most certainly above average." Alfred said as he walked into the room carrying a tray.

"Humble as ever Alfred." Bruce smiled.

"Of course Sir."Alfred set the tray down on the table and began to head back out of the room.

"Won't you be joining us Alfred?" Bruce asked.

Alfred stopped and turned to us. "Of course Sir." He took a seat next to Dick.

"So Ashleigh, have you chosen a room yet?" Bruce asked as he ate.

I had a mouth full of food. Typical. Silence for a second as I swallowed it. "Yes, it's one at the back. It looks over the garden. It lovely out there."

"She actually picked one of the smallest rooms." Dick pointed out.

"Huh." Bruce seemed intrigued. " I don't think anyone has deliberately picked a small room before." He then points to Alfred. "The garden is for the most part Alfred's work."

"It's a nice way to keep myself busy on my days off." Alfred commented.

Dick looked over to me. "Saturday and Sunday are Alfred's days off. Though he does usually still cook those days."

"Yes. Cooking is another thing I find to be relaxing." Alfred then glared over at Dick. "And if I didn't this manor would have burnt to the ground years ago.

"We're not that bad Alfred."

"Shall I tell Miss Ashleigh about the time-"

"No."

"Or perhaps-"

"No Alfred, that's quite alright." Dick turned to me. "Okay so maybe there's a reason most of us are banned from the kitchen.

I giggled and from the head of the table table Bruce let out a small chuckle."

Both Alfred and Dick stared at Bruce for a moment before they began to chuckle themselves. The rest of the dinner went by with lots of chatting and laughing.

"Alfred, delicious as always." Dick complimented the food as he took the last of it up in his fork.

"Thank you Master Dick." Alfred stood up from the table and gathered all the empty plates. "Now if you dont mind, I must tend to the dishes."

Dick stood up. "I'll help you Alfred. You should give Ashleigh a heads up about tommorow B."

Bruce nodded to him as the two left the room.

I looked to Bruce slightly concerned. "What happens tommorow?"

"Nothing serious. Dick just meant all the people that'll be around."

"Oh, how many people?"

Bruce shrugged. "Honestly I'm not sure. As I said it varies. Probably at least four, but it could be like ten. My guess is quite a few. Once they know theres a new person in the house im guessing most of them will come around for a while hoping to meet you."

"Oh." I was slightly worried at the thought of meeting so many people.

"I've warned them not to swarm you. My guess is they'll 'bump' into you across the day. Probably in groups of one or two."

"That doesn't sound too bad."

"I'd warn you about each of them individually but i think its best you learn about them each yourself. Also ever door in this manor can be locked. If you need some time alone."

I nodded and stood up from the table. "Thank you. I should probably head to bed early after the flight. Jetlag and what not.Goodnight. If you need anything dont be afraid to ask."

"Of course. Goodnight."

I walked back to the entrance and grabbed my bags. I went up to my room, only taking one wrong turn this time. It took awhile to fall asleep but eventually it came to me.

I sat up. I was sweating. It was still dark outside. I stood up and threw on my clothes from yesterday. "It was just a dream, just a dream." I took a moment to settle my self. "Now where was that bathroom Dick showed?"

A couple of minutes of aimless wandering later and I found it. After I had emptied my bladder and washed the sweat off my face I headed back to my room. I approached the door when I saw two men walk out of my room. "Dick?"

"There you are." Dick walked over to me. "We just got back from patrol figured I'd check in on you."

I looked him up and down. He was still wearing his Nightwing costume. "Are you expecting something to happen to me?"

"No. Its just wanted to check in on you."

The figure behind him joined in. "He's very motherly kid. Best get used to it."

As my eyes adjusted to the darkness I noticed the other figure was holding a helmet.

Dick pointed to him. "This is Jason or just Jay. Jay this is Ashleigh."

"Nice to meet you."

"Likewise." Jay turned to Dick. "Im gonna go get some shut eye. You can put the kid back to bed." He walked by by me and into one of the rooms.

"Jay's like that with everyone." Dick assured me. "You'll get use to it. The rest of the gang came in a while ago, they were asking about you."

"Oh."

"They're excited to meet you." He patted my shoulder. "Im going to get some rest my self. You know where I am if you need me."

I nodded and headed back to my room. I managed to fall back to sleep for awhile.

#batfam #batfamily #batman #bruce wayne #alfred pennyworth #nightwing #dick grayson #jason todd #red hood #fanfic #fanfiction #au #batsis #ashleigh wayne

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ohcoolnice · 4 years ago

Text

1:Greatest Punishment

LOVE NEVER DIES (A NATURAL DEATH) MASTERLIST

Also on Ao3

Summary: Cordelia thought college would be simple: hanging out with Lucie, her best friend, cramming the night before exams. What she did not expect was all of this. Her roommate is hiding a wanted acused murderer in their apartment, Cordelia herself is in a fake relationship with the boy she's in love with, her brother won't talk to her, and Christopher Lighwood keeps blowing things up.

“To burn with desire and keep quiet about it is the greatest punishment we can bring on ourselves.” ― Federico García Lorca, Blood Wedding and Yerma

“How much longer?” Cordelia asked for the nine hundredth time, ignoring Alastair’s annoyed glare in the rear-view mirror.

“About two minutes, Layla,” her mother, Sona, replied with an amused smile.

“You don’t have to ask every two minutes.” Alastair grumbled. Sona hit his shoulder with the back of her hand.

Cordelia bit her lip in excitement as the car sped along the highway, her knee bouncing up and down. Two minutes and she would see Lucie again, she would see James again.

She could see the campus poking over the tops of the trees ahead as they turned into a long driveway flanked by rows of trees on either side. Cordelia turned in her seat to check on the car behind them, filled with Alastair and Cordelia’s clothes and things. Risa smiled and waved at her from behind the wheel. Cordelia beamed.

Sona gasped and Cordelia turned around in her seat immediately. “Maman? What is it?”

“Look Cordelia! Isn’t it lovely ?”

Cordelia unclicked her seatbelt to lean between the two seats, and sighed.

It was beautiful . The Academy was a massive campus just outside London known for it’s (very) high tuition prices, excellent education, and, most notable, beautiful gothic campus. Massive buildings like cathedrals framed a large courtyard overrun with students hurrying about with their suitcases and parents to find classes, dorms, activites activities. Cordelia giggled and clapped her hands. “It’s incredible!”

Alistair rolled his eyes. “I’ve shown you photos before.”

“Well it’s a good thing you’re not a photographer then. Obviously, you didn’t capture the beauty.” Cordelia teased, though it wasn't true. Alastair’s photos didn’t need to be professional to prove the campus was like a fairytale. It was only that there was a difference between being shown a photo and actually being there.

Cordelia squealed suddenly, clutching at her brothers shoulder and squeezing.

“Ow! Cordelia, stop!” Alistair yelled, pulling his arm away.

“Sorry! But look! ” She pointed to their left, where Lucie, her best friend, was jumping up and down, her arms wild as she spotted their car. She wore a pretty pink dress with white flowers and had silver pins in her hair, pulled back into a braided bun. Strands had come loose as she jumped, her bangs wild and just as Cordelia remembered. She squealed again. Alastair slouched in his seat.

They pulled into a parking spot and Cordelia hurried out, running over to her best friend, who was screaming and attracting lots of attention from around them. Lucie wrapped her arms around Cordelia, still jumping. Cordelia giggled. She'd missed Lucie, dearly. They usually spent their summers together but Cordelia had been in Paris this summer with her family, after her father had been arrested.

“I’m so glad you’re finally here!” Lucie squealed. “We’ve been waiting for hours .”

“Well, really only twelve minutes, but who’s counting,” replied an amused voice behind her. Cordelia turned, heart beating in her chest. James! Her mind screamed. It’s James!

I know , she told herself, shut up.

James smiled at her, chin dimple making her forget that staring was rude, and she saw her life flash before her eyes briefly at the sight of him. How was it you could forget the way someone looked? She had thought of James nearly every day, and yet she'd forgotten the way he made her heart flutter in her chest. “Hello, Daisy.”

Cordelia smiled shyly. “Hello James.”

“Goodbye James.” Sang Lucie, tugging Cordelia away. “Come, let’s go take the tour while the boys unload our things.”

“It’s boring!” James called after them.

“You’re boring!” Lucie called back.

Cordelia smiled and took a last glance at her own brother, who was frowning at his phone. She'd barely seen him all summer, despite their literally living in the same place, and when she had seen him he didn't talk to her much. Or, he’d tell her he was too busy. She wanted to remind him that though he had better things to do than watch after his baby sister, she was still his sister in the end, and she'd done nothing to deserve being ignored. He’d been different when he’d returned home after the school year this summer, and she desperatley wanted to know what was wrong with him.

Later. She would find out, she resolved. But first, the tour . Cordelia ran towards the tour group, giggling with Lucie, their future waiting for them.

“Who knew the future would involve so much standing .” Lucie whined as two and a half hours later, they dragged their feet into their apartment. “I thought it would never end.”

The tour had been exhausting, going through the entire campus and, if Cordelia was being honest, she didn’t even pay attention after the first ten minutes. It was mostly Lucie’s fault, pointing out silly things, like drawings on walls, or making up an elaborate story for some random person they saw carrying a suitcase that looked like a coffin. Apparently he was a Duke that had gone to kidnap a beautiful princess, only to find she was dead, and now he was trying to find a way to bring her back to life. Cordelia had made Lucie promise not to put that in The Beautiful Cordelia .

James and Alastair were still there when they arrived, having brought the last of the boxes. They both looked frustrated, though Cordelia had seen the same expression on her brother when she’d left for the tour, and when they’d left the house, so she didn’t worry too much over it. Alastair had said something vague about having a meeting, and left almost as soon as they’d seen him, though he’d made the both of them swear not to stay up too late before hurrying down the hall.

James, setting a box on the coffee table, brightened when he saw them, and her traitorous heart fluttered in her chest.

“How was the tour?” He asked.

“Boring,” Lucie pouted, “you were right.”

James laughed, eyes glimmering with mischief. “Maybe you should change cruel Prince James to wise Prince James.”

“Wise-ass, maybe.” Lucie crossed her arms. Cordelia snorted, slapping a hand over her mouth. Lucie looked incredibly pleased with herself. James rolled his eyes, though a smile played at his lips.

Cordelia couldn’t help but stare at him. She hadn’t seen James for a year. Spending time with Lucie at the Herondales place after school was fun when it was just them two, of course, but it just wasn’t the same without his presence. She kept expecting him to come in and annoy his sister, or tell Cordelia about the last book he’d read, smiling shyly when he’d ask if she’d like to borrow it. After a few months, she stopped forgetting he was gone, and instead simply missed him.

She hadn’t realised that she’d forgotten how it was to be near him again, his presence suddenly a real, tangible thing that she could feel around her like a soft blanket.

“You’re sure you’ll be alright unpacking on your own?” James asked.

Lucie waved her hand dismissively, her movements much less energetic than they normally were. “Oh, absolutely not. But I think Daisy and I have been both mentally and physically drained from that never ending torture tour.”

Cordelia groaned, nodding. “If I sit down even once tonight, I don’t think I’ll be able to stand up again.”

James grinned at her and raised his hands defensively, “Alright, I’ll let you two get to bed then.”

“Though,” Lucie piped up as her brother turned away, “if you could bring the Thieves ‘round tomorrow at lunch, that would be extremely helpful, and then Cordelia could meet them.”

James nodded, and Lucie trudged to her room, peering inside boxes to find a blanket. He paused at the door, turning to smile at Cordelia over his shoulder. “It’s wonderful to see you again, Daisy.”

“Yes, you as well,” she said, “it hasn’t been the same without Lucie complaining about her brother.”

He laughed, his cheek dimpling. I’m going to die. “I don’t think she missed that bit.”

James’ phone rang and he peered down at it. Cordelia looked over at where Lucie was struggling to pull a blanket from one of the boxes. “She did miss it, I think, and you, more than she says. I missed you too.”

He hesitated at the door, not bringing the phone to his ear, though he’d answered it. The caller was repeating James’ name, clearly annoyed. She could hear ‘ You wet sock! James? Helloooo? ’

James’ attention seemed to be fixed on Cordelia, his eyes on hers in that way he had – where he could make her feel as if there was no one else in the world but the two of them, as if he was looking at her and never wanted to look at anything else again. Like she was the only thing worth looking at.

One side of his mouth lifted shyly. “I missed you too.”

Cordelia and Lucie had only found one blanket, and both collapsed onto Lucie’s bed as soon as they’d seen it. Cordelia woke to find she herself was sprawled along the foot of the bed, her bra pressing against her ribcage uncomfortably. Lucie was sprawled over the rest of the bed, her brown hair still in it’s bun and crimped, sticking out at all angles. Her legs dangled over the side of the mattress. Cordelia sat up, rubbing her face. She’d fallen asleep on her wrist, and could feel the shape of her bracelet’s charms where they pressed into her cheek.

Sunlight filtered through the window, and as Cordelia moved to sit up her breath sent the bits of dust suspended in the air into a swirling dance. She watched them as her brain caught up with her body.

Cordelia nudged Lucie. No movement. She nudged her again.

Lucie snorted and flung an arm up, hitting Cordelia in the face. She yelped and stumbled, falling on her friend’s stomach, causing her to wheeze suddenly, groaning as she was successfully, finally , awake.

But at what cost ? Cordelia groaned internally, rolling off the other girl with her hand on her face.

Lucie sat up, pouting. “Ow.”

“You hit me !”

“Well, you tried to wake me up.” Lucie huffed and burst into sleepy giggles. “Sorry.”

Cordelia couldn’t help but smile. She really was lucky to have the friendship she did. She knew not everyone had something like it. Her brother did not, her mother had never mentioned anyone who had been particularly close with her in her life – though she was always loved by everyone she met.

Her father, she supposed, she did not know. She’d never really thought of it. Certainly not, if no one had stepped in to defend him when he’d been sent to jail for something she knew he didn’t do. Her father was a good man – a great man, who had only ever loved and cared for her.

A knock at the door broke her thoughts. The two girls exchanged a frantic glance, Lucie practically flying off the bed and looking around for a comb. Cordelia, who had kept her knapsack next to the bed, all the items inside artfully arranged, produced one, and made her way hurriedly to brush her teeth, hearing Lucie complain as the comb got stuck in the tangled fine stands.

There was another series of knocking and banging at the door. “Shut up, James!” Lucie called out from the bedroom.

“Open the door then!” Came the muffled reply. “I don’t care if you look like medusa, I’ve been living with the horrors my whole life!”

Cordelia choked on the toothpaste. Someone in the hall opened the door and yelled at James to shut up.

“Daisy?” James pleaded. The doors were rather thin, Cordelia thought, James’ voice was only a little muffled.

Cordelia crossed the room to speak against the door, pulling her hair up into a messy high ponytail. “Sorry,” she said, “I won’t betray Lucie.”

There was a pause, “I suppose I cannot say much to that, then. Very honourable—"

“Oh, honestly James,” Cordelia gasped, startled at the sound of a second voice – she hadn’t known anyone else was there, “ enough of all of that – LUCIE OPEN THE BLOODY DOOR!”

“Matthew, shush!” Lucie scolded, indignant, appearing at Cordelia’s side. She opened the door and Cordelia blinked as four young men stumbled over each other into her apartment.

A taller blond had been leaning on the door and stumbled once it was flung open. Matthew Fairchild, she remembered meeting him once when she’d gone to stay with the Herondales over school break one year, though they’d only met for a few minutes and barely exchanged more than a few pleasantries. Though even if she’d never met him she recognised him from Lucie’s letters as exactly the way she’d described him.

The boys tripped over each other. James recovered first, standing up and brushing himself off quickly, his eyes finding her and his easy smile warming her heart. “Good morning Cordelia.”

She looked over at Lucie, who mouthed Christopher . Cordelia mouthed Oh back. Lucie grinned. Cordelia smiled – they were exactly as Lucie had described them: Christopher as curious and sweet, Thomas as kind, and Matthew as mischievous.

Thomas - she’d recognised from Alastair’s class photos – had shaken her hand upon entry, tall and broad shouldered. He carried himself as Alastair had described once, when she’d asked him what James’ friends were like, since they’d attended school together.

Alastair had shrugged, “I did not really know them, Layla. You know how it was for me.”

“Surely you must know something ,” she’d asked, pouting.

Alastair sighed, “You already know James, the Matthew fellow is quite his opposite, I suppose. A rather impulsive one. And the two lightwoods—” he hesitated, “they’re not horrible, really. Thomas is…he carries himself well.”

“Lucie says he’s rather tall.” She pressed, taking advantage of the fact that he was opening up, even if it was just about others.

“Well, it’s not so horrible as she makes it sound,” he scoffed, “he carries himself well.”

And indeed, he did, Cordelia noticed Thomas did not lumber around, but stood straight, aware of his height and build – there was confidence, she noticed, beneath a quiet, polite exterior.

Cordelia took his hand, “It’s lovely to meet you,” she smiled, “finally after hearing so much from Lucie and my brother.”

Thomas blinked. “Your brother – Alastair?”

“Erm, yes.” She froze, realising that Alastair hadn’t exactly been kind to them in the past. “My apologies, nothing bad, I assure you. I know he was not kind always—”

Thomas blushed, but smiled nonetheless, “He was kind to me in Paris. We are friends, I think.”

Cordelia did not know what to say to that. She hadn’t known he’d met Alastair in Paris, but she didn’t have the heart to say anything, so she simply smiled.

It was a sharp reminder of how little she was aware of, how much she’d missed out in her life, shut out from life, from the world, traveling, never staying anywhere long enough to form connections.

A wave of gratitude washed over Cordelia, and she found herself hugging Lucie a moment later. In a life of loneliness and solitude, Lucie had always been there, bright and smiling, doing everything to make her feel loved and supported, even from countries away.

They’d spent the day unpacking boxes and collapsed, collectively, on the couch and armchairs in the living room. The image of it all was so very new to Cordelia she’d nearly cried. They’d been so welcoming of her, despite their differences with her brother, and by the end of the day she’d found herself falling asleep to the sound of the Merry Thieves (she found the name adorable, and even more so since they seemed to find it very cool) bickering and singing showtunes over a game of cards.

Cordelia had lived in so many homes, but now she felt at home.

-----

“Jamie bach ,” Matthew said, exasperated, “it’s a bloody formality, we don’t need to go.”

James stared at his best friend.

“Fine. I don’t want to go.”

“I promised Lucie and Cordelia, and you are an extension of that promise, so you have to be there.” Matthew made a mocking noise and crossed his arms in a pout. James ignored this. “Besides, Thomas and Christopher will also be there, and Anna as well.”

Matthew groaned and flopped backwards onto James’ bed, the blonde strands of hair contrasting against the black duvet. James rolled his eyes and turned to the mirror to finish buttoning his shirt. The silver bracelet on his wrist flashed under the cuff of his sleeve.

“I don’t see what the issue is, you’ve already dressed.” James pointed out.

It was true: Matthew was, as always, dressed to impress. While most of the men their age dressed simple tailored suits with matching waistcoats, all in one colour as if they were attending a business meeting cosplaying as fruit, Matthew always styled himself for these events in beautiful, brocaded waistcoats beneath matching tailored trousers and fitted jacket in a complimenting colour, every inch of fabric deliberate and thought out. Tonight, his waistcoat was a soft faded mossy green, his trousers and tailored coat – thrown across James’ bed next to him – the same deep green as his eyes.

James felt as underdressed as he always did next to Matthew. He didn’t mind – it was how it had always been.

Matthew looked down at his outfit. “Very true. Waste of a good outfit if it’s not seen.”

James smiled. “Besides,” he said, slowly, not looking at Matthew, “Grace will be there. I should like you to meet her.”

Matthew sat up. James didn’t need to turn to know he was frowning. “ Really ?” Matthew’s voice was as dry as his older brother. “What joy that brings me. I do adore your girlfriend. I suppose I cannot resist, then.”

“She isn’t my girlfriend,” James sighed, “We have an understanding, is all.”

Matthew snorted, mimicking James in a high voice. “I love her, my heart yearns to be with her forever and ever!” He sighed dramatically, rolling around on the bed with his hand on his heart. He sat up abruptly. “But no, she’s not my girlfriend.”

Matthew grinned at James’ dry look and pretended to flip his hair over his shoulder.

“You’ve never met her, Math. I don’t know why you don’t like her without meeting her first.”

“And I don’t know why you do . So, I suppose that, in this instance, we’ll have to agree to disagree.”

James didn’t like arguing with Matthew, they rarely ever did, so he let the topic drop. James turned from the mirror, jerking his head towards the door. “Let’s go, then.”

“Hurrah.” Matthew muttered, but he dragged himself up and slipped into his jacket, following James out the door.

“How did you find Daisy?” James found himself asking as they walked across the large field separating the student apartment buildings. Students were already making their way to the main campus, giggling and chatting loudly with friends.

“Daisy?” Matthew blinked. James noticed how slow that blink was and realised with an inward sigh that Matthew was, again, Drunk. I should say something . He thought. But no, he couldn’t, could he. Not now, not tonight. Matthew would get upset, again, and storm off, likely to only drink more. At least, if he said nothing, he could watch the amount his friend was consuming, and take it away from him if necessary. “Oh,” Matthew was saying, “you mean Cordelia?”

“I-yes.”

“She’s…well,” he laughed, “not much like her brother is she. Certainly, much more friendly. I daresay, though, I was not skeptical since I know you and Lucie would not have loved her as you do if she was as horrible as Alastair.”

Loved her, as you do . James said nothing, the words sitting strangely in his heart. He did care for Cordelia, but something about the way Matthew had said it was sending his thoughts into a frenzy. Was it that he said that James loved Cordelia? No, James was sure he did. And Matthew had said it exactly right – that James loved Cordelia as a friend, which they were. It wasn’t as if—

“Jamie?” Matthew leaned down to wave a hand in James’ face. “Where have you gone, brother?”

James shook his head. “I don’t know. Matthew, do be careful about what you say of Alastair to Daisy.” Daisy. “She loves her brother very much.”

“Says more about her than it does him. Angel knows he doesn’t deserve it.” Matthew grumbled, rolling his eyes at James’ glare. “Yes, alright, I’ll try my best not to mention Alastair Carstairs at all, all night.”

James opened his mouth to respond, but they’d made it to Lucie and Cordelia’s building, and all words died from his lips. Oh .

Cordelia and Lucie were already waiting for them, engaged in conversation with—

“What in the Angel’s name is Voldemort doing here?” Matthew hissed, adding in a low whisper, “you said not to mention him so I shall refer to him as he-who-shall-not-be-named.”

“Matthew.”

“Yes, it’s rather long, isn’t it? Perhaps ‘ horrid creature’ would do better.”

“ Matthew .”

Matthew ignored him, plastering a bright smile on his face as they neared. “ Alastair Carstairs ! What an absolute pleasure!”

James dropped his face into his hands.

Much to Matthew’s evident relief, Alastair had excused himself once they’d arrived, announcing that he was off to look for Charles, Matthew’s older brother.

Thomas and Christopher and the rest of their set had yet to arrive (apparently Christopher had made some sort of scientific discovery and was holding them up, though James knew Barbara, the younger of Thomas’ two sisters, would soon grow impatient and drag them out).

Music began to swell as the hall began to fill up with students. The room was massive, about the size of their football field, and it’s high gothic ceilings were decorated with lights like stars, filling the dark space with a dim light. Tables lined the walls on either side, and all the entrances had been turned into arches of light and James found himself watching Cordelia as she looked up, her head tipping back. Her hair was gathered elegantly at the back of her head, adorned with pearls he remembered seeing in his sister’s hair before. James wanted to reach out and take the pins from her hair and watch the red curls spill down her back.

Grace , James told himself, you love Grace .

And yet he hadn’t seen Cordelia in a year. He’d thought of her often during that year, but hadn’t he’d always kept her in his thoughts, in his dreams, since they were young? It shouldn’t have been any different now. And he hadn’t thought anything of his own eagerness to see Daisy as anything other than because they were friends, because Lucie would be ecstatic.

It had seemed not even a bit out of place, not even when Matthew had pointed out that James had been acting very energetic all week. And then he’d seen her again, leaping out of her car and running towards Lucie, her red hair pulled back, a smile – the same smile he’d always known – arresting him where he stood.

She wasn’t beautiful; saying she was beautiful would be to say the sky was simply blue and that was all the qualities it possessed. No, Cordelia – where she’d always been pretty, funny, kind – was suddenly older, more serious, her eyes and lips sharper and her smile more assured.

She didn’t run along with Lucie the way he remembered, but she carried herself next to his sister with her shoulders back and her head raised, looking for all the world like a warrior striding through battle. James knew if he didn’t look away he might die. James wondered if it would be so bad to die.

Grace , he repeated, you love Grace.

Lucie cut through his thoughts, grinning like the devil. “Cordelia looks beautiful, does she not?”

James glared at his sister, who beamed innocently.

It was no secret, since they were young and Lucie tried to marry the pair of them in an ambush ceremony in the forest near their summer home, that Lucie believed very firmly that James and Cordelia were ‘meant to be together’. He pushed the thought from his mind. Lucie had said those words when she was seven. It meant nothing. And Lucie had only said it because she’d discovered that if Cordelia married James, she would be her sister.

James had often asked himself if he should think of Cordelia as his sister, the way Lucie did. But he did not.

They were looking at James, the three of them, Matthew looking from Lucie to Cordelia to James in amusement, a curious glint to his smile, Lucie, smiling despite her earlier attempts to appear innocent. And Cordelia, well, she seemed as put on the spot as he did, and a bit apologetic, as if she expected James not to have an answer. It did not matter, he did.

“She always has.” James said, before really thinking it through. Matthew squinted at his friend, and shook his head smiling. He turned to Lucie with a hand extended.

“I am bored. Let’s dance.” He said, and Lucie giggled as she took his hand, running into the crowd, the layers of her light blue gown floating around her.

James and Cordelia stood in an awkward silence for the first time since the first time they’d met. The only difference now was they were much older, and he didn’t have a pile of books to distract her away from the fact that he was less confident than he supposed he appeared to be. At least now there was comfort in the fact that he knew Cordelia, too, would rather be somewhere else, curled up by the fire reading a book like they had as children, James letting the sound of her voice wash over him, making comments and jokes that would make her laugh or scold him for interrupting a good part of the story.

The song ended and faded into another, people moving to pair up and waltz around the space. He looked up at a movement behind Cordelia. James paled.

Rosamund Wentworth was on her way to him, her eyes frighteningly determined. James made a panicked noise and Cordelia scrunched up her face in confusion. “Daisy, would you like to dance?”

Cordelia blinked. Rosamund was almost on them now, and James could feel himself bouncing on his toes, pleading with his eyes. Cordelia looked quickly over her shoulder, where the other girl was trying to get around a couple dancing wildly off-beat. When she looked back at James, she was nearly laughing. “Well, what kind of a friend would I be if I did not save you from all the mad women throwing themselves at you.”

James gave her a look that suggested he wasn’t amused – though he was smiling despite himself – and took her hand, pulling her into an impromptu dance just as Rosamund was finally on them. He smiled at her apologetically and pulled Cordelia into the middle of the room.

Cordelia laughed. “Does that happen often?”

“With Rosamund?” James chuckled. “Unfortunately.”

“Just with her?” Cordelia asked, and then blushed, her cheeks darkening in the dim light, as if she hadn’t meant to ask.

James tipped his head to the side as the room swirled around them, “What do you mean?”

“Oh, nothing it’s just, well,” she looked around the room, everywhere but at him. He wished she would, “you’re not hideous, James. And Lucie said you became insufferably popular.”

James laughed. “And do you think I’m insufferable?”

“I don’t think we’ve seen each other for long enough to determine that.” She giggled as he twirled her, the deep blue of her dress like liquid twilight, clinging to her curves, reminding him that they were no longer children, that Cordelia was as fierce as she’d always wanted to be. Did she know? Perhaps he should tell her.

James smiled, “Then I suppose the only way to find out is to spend more time together. I shall be as bothersome as possible from now on.”

“Is that a threat?” She was smiling without thinking about it – wide and easy – as striking now as she had been stunning before.

“It’s a promise. I’ve already written it down and set myself reminders. You will—” he broke off, looking up. Grace had arrived. Grace, who he loved. Grace . He’d forgotten about her completely from the moment he’d taken Cordelia’s hand. He was horrible. This was a sort of emotional cheating, was it not? James felt wretched.

“James?” Cordelia asked. “James what’s wrong?”

James did not answer, did not know what to say. He had already stepped back from Cordelia, had let go of her hands even though her touch sent sparks across his skin. He didn’t look at her as he crossed the room to Grace, his heart wracked with guilt, with the realization that he’d been dancing with Cordelia and yes, it had been horrible to break away from her, but what kind of a man was he if he let himself betray the woman he loved?

Cordelia was his friend, he reminded himself. She did not feel any particular way about him beyond friendship, and if he was confused, it was not because her presence was like coming home, it was not because her laugh made him want to forget his name, or because talking to her was all he wanted to do for the rest of his life – the sound of her voice was soothing, but that did not mean anything.

His confusion was superficial, he told himself. He couldn’t be lying to himself, to Daisy, to Grace, when all he felt was the shock of seeing someone and realising how the curve of their lips made him want to fall on his knees and worship, how the—

James shook the thoughts away. Stop it . He thought forcefully.

James pushed through the crowd and finally reached Grace. She smiled small at him, her eyes wide and bright. “Hello, James.”

“Grace,” He asked, almost mechanically, “would you like to dance?”

She did not smile any wider. Was she unhappy? She seemed like it, almost. She must have seen him with Cordelia. Cordelia, who he would have to apologise to for leaving stranded in the center of the room. Cordelia, who-

Enough .

He took Grace’s hand – small and perfect in his – and led her to the floor as the song slowed.

“You must be glad she is here.”

“Who?” James asked, though as soon as he asked he’d known who Grace meant.

“Cordelia Carstairs. You are friends, are you not?” She frowned. “You have spoken of her so much, I cannot think you don’t like her.”

“We are friends, of course. But I don’t like her – no, I mean I do like her, she’s so kind, and she’s funny too, not like Lucie but she makes little comments that are-but I don’t like her in the way you mean. I like her as a friend, is all.” And there was so much he wanted to say: their shared taste in books, how she never made him feel alone, unwanted, how she made everywhere feel like home, but he knew he was going on a bit much, and shut his mouth.

Grace raised a brow. “That is what I meant.”

“Oh.”

Grace looked as if she might be smiling, or trying not too, though he couldn’t imagine what part of this was funny to her. Sometimes it seemed as if Grace was not really all that interested in him as more than friends, though he’d mentioned it once and she’d dismissed it.

James caught a flash of red and looked up. It was Cordelia, spinning around with Lucie as they laughed together, not following the pace of the dance at all. At least she didn’t appear hurt. Though why should she be? He was just overthinking it. They were only friends.

----

Returning home that night was strange. Though she could tell Daisy had enjoyed the party, Lucie could tell something was bothering her best friend. But it was late, and Lucie’s meds were wearing off, so she doubted being able to focus on conversation and provide any help. She tried to remind herself to ask Daisy over breakfast tomorrow before class.

Lucie yawned as they dragged themselves into their apartment. She giggled. “I hope that us coming home this tired doesn’t start becoming a habit.”

Cordelia breathed a laugh. “I don’t think I’d survive that.” She waved, heading to her room. “Goodnight, Lucie.”

“Sleep well, sister.” Lucie replied, only half paying attention. The light in her room was on. She was sure she’d turned it off. There was a faint breeze as well, as if she’d left the window open.

It was probably nothing, but being suspicious was always more dramatic.

She swung the door open, and screamed.

#chain of gold #chain of iron #writing #love never dies (a natural death)

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elvendara · 4 years ago

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Into the Woods

A new Yooran fanfic

Fall was his favorite season. He walked in the woods enjoying the cooling breeze that played with his long golden locks. Amethyst eyes noted each and every change, these were his woods after all. Yoosung felt at peace as he helped guide the new season. Living alone the past few hundred years had left him a bit lonely, but he had the vegetation to occupy him and the friendship of the many animals that resided in his woods. People sometimes wandered in, but eyes that could not see, slid right off him and his simple home.

A shot rang out, reverberating through the air. The animals scattered, understanding the danger such a weapon encompassed. Yoosung’s jaw clenched, dropping the flowers he had been harvesting before they became dormant for the upcoming winter, he ran towards the sound. Although it rang all around him, his attunement to his forest made it easy to feel where the disturbance was happening. The woods parted for him easily, allowing him to make haste without hinderance. A huff and a low whine stopped him in his tracks. There was a rustling of underbrush as Yoosung watched. He stepped forward slowly, reaching out to the life around him, ready to strike if need be. Raised voices began to shout from the north, but Yoosung’s attention was all on what lay beyond the brush.

He pushed the tall grass aside and was stunned to find a rather large reddish brown wolf laying on it’s side. A huge wound on its belly. Something metallic shone around the edges of the wound. Not a wolf. A werewolf. Of course. The poor thing was trying to heal, but the silver prevented that from happening. He gingerly walked through the brush to the beast’s side. The massive wolf’s head snapped up and bit the air right in front of Yoosung. The blonde stood his ground and made shushing noises. This was not a regular animal, he would not be able to soothe him with his magic. The mint green eyes that looked at him were panicked and terrified. He continued to growl but Yoosung could see that he was losing strength fast.

“Hush now, I can help you.” He cajoled.

Having spent the last of its energy, the wolf collapsed, passing out, and the wound began to ooze more freely. He was losing a lot of blood. Yoosung did what he could, but even for him, the silver made it difficult to completely heal the wound. As he watched, the wolf began to change. The form of a man now lay in the underbrush, his reddish hair plastered to his forehead. The voices were getting louder and he knew he had to move fast. He asked the forest to hide the passage of the wolf and slow the pursuers. The existence of the silver meant these hunters knew what their prey.

He scooped the man into his arms and retreated to his home. There was no trace left in his wake, Yoosung was one with the woods, and as such, he was indistinguishable from the foliage. Where he tread, there was no disturbance left. He lay the man on his bed and covered his nakedness. Making sure he was still breathing and as comfortable as he could make him, Yoosung began to work on a mixture that would leach out the silver so the werewolf’s healing ability could work to full effect. What Yoosung had done would only delay the inevitable.

Mumbling to himself he set to work. It did not take long to finish and he quickly plastered the concoction on the wound, watching as the greenish substance turned lighter and lighter, once there was no more color change, Yoosung knew it had done it’s work. He wiped away the paste and watched in fascination as the wound closed on its own. The man’s labored breathing eased, and he fell into a peaceful sleep.

Knowing how taxing the healing was to the body, Yoosung prepared to wait at least two days before the man woke. He made sure to give him some sustenance, especially water. Thankfully, the man swallowed with no difficulty. He wiped his brow and wondered at the beauty of his eyes, wanting desperately to see them open once more. He chided himself, taking advantage of a man exhausted and injured for his own visual pleasure. Sure, it had been too long since he had had any meaningful companionship, but wasn’t that the reason he had left society behind? It had been too hard to watch those he loved live and die while he stayed the same. With a sigh he left the man’s bedside, it wouldn’t do to entertain those thoughts.

2 days later

Saeran’s eyes sprang open, above him there was a thatched roof and sunlight streamed in from a window by the bed he lay in. The bed, it felt strange, not like a mattress at all, there were areas that scratched at his skin. He blinked and looked around. The room was small with a doorway that appeared to lead into a kitchen of sorts. The blanket over him was heavy and appeared to be some kind of animal skin. Where the hell was he? He suddenly remembered the hunters and the sting of being hit. He threw the blanket off and looked in astonishment at the healed skin where the wound should have been.

“You’re awake! Good, how are you feeling?”

Saeran tried to stand up at the surprising voice but he immediately fell back onto the hard bed, his head dizzy and his stomach growling at him in dissatisfaction.

“Hold on, you’re weak. Your body had to do a lot work, you need to rest. I imagine your starving as well.” Saeran stared at the blonde. Something familiar about him. Then he remembered.

“You…in the woods.” His voice was scratchy from disuse and dehydration. The blonde’s eyes widened as he smiled. That smile was beyond brilliant, brighter than the sunshine filtering into the room.

“I am glad you are well.”

“Who…who are you?” Saeran asked, unable to take his eyes off of the man. He was grateful for the help, maybe that was why he was so enthralled.

“My name is Yoosung.”

“Where are we?” Saeran peeled his gaze from the man and looked around, casting his mind towards anything to keep from wondering what those rosy lips tasted like. The smell, it was overwhelming, he could feel himself salivating. He wanted desperately to bite the man’s…Yoosung’s…neck.

“This is my home, the center of the forest. You were lucky I wan near, I don’t usually walk too close to the edge. But let me get you some nourishment first, you must be starving.”

Saeran couldn’t argue with that, his stomach felt like it was beyond empty. Shriveled up and dying. He watched the blonde, his wavy hair dancing as he walked. He tried to stand up when he lost sight of him when he made a right turn through the doorway, but he fell back once more. The wound might be healed, but his body was still paying that price. Yoosung was right, what he needed was rest, and lots of it, and food.

Yoosung was back with a large tray of food, meat, lots and lots of meat. Now Saeran was salivating for an entirely different reason. His stomach learched and all his senses went numb as he dug into the fair. Yoosung laughed and jumped back, afraid the man would take his fingers as a snack.

After a few minutes, and his stomach beginning to calm down, Saeran looked up at Yoosung who still stood in front of him. He felt like an animal, forgoing the utensils on the tray and eating with his hands. He took the cloth on the tray and wiped his mouth and hands.

“I apologize.” He began. Yoosung waved the apology away.

“No no. No need to apologize, I quite understand.” He sat next to Saeran and placed his hands on his lap.

“You know what I am?” Saeran asked quietly.

“Of course, although I must admit, it has been a while since I’ve seen a werewolf. By the way, may I know your name?” he asked.

“Oh, yes, uh…Saeran…and…thank you for everything, how did you��I mean…”

“The silver? I have a remedy for that. It’s nice to meet you formally Saeran.”

“You too…Yoosung…” his green eyes traveled up and down Yoosung’s body, his appetite sated, his other growing need began to take over. He swallowed hard and looked away, but not before noting that Yoosung had understood what that gaze had meant. He didn’t look offended by it, in fact, he looked amused. Had he ever been with a werewolf before? Was that something he was allowed to ask? He tried to clear his senses, but the smell coming off of Yoosung was confusing. Was he aroused? It seemed likely, but there was something else as well. He smelled different than any other human he had ever encountered. There was also an attraction to him that Saeran had never felt before. It wasn’t visual, it had to do with the smell! The fucking smell! He wanted to plug his nose but didn’t want to offend Yoosung.

“Is there something wrong?” Yoosung asked.

“No, nothing, it’s just…I’m tired again. I should get some sleep.” He was indeed tired, his body was still stressed and needed rest. He was thankful for that excuse. Maybe with some privacy, he could figure out what was happening to him, and what was suddenly wrong with his sense of smell.

“Certainly. I shall take this and leave you to rest. I placed a pitcher of water by the bed, make sure you drink plenty. Call out if you need anything, I will hear you.” Yoosung took the tray and walked out, leaving Saeran alone. Suddenly he felt empty and cold, the warmth having left his side. He desperately wanted it back.

#my posts #Yooran #Yoosung Kim #Saeran Choi #mysme #mystic messenger #werewolf Saeran #Druid Yoosung #my art

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arigatouiris · 5 years ago

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my present, my future // steve rogers

Author’s Note: This was such a cute request omggg. Hope you like it, nonnie!

Word count: 2206

Pairing: Steve Rogers x Reader

Warnings: angst, fluff, Endgame Spoilers

This wasn’t supposed to happen.

Your hands were sweating, and your mouth was dry. First time in weeks, to be precise. You knew the day your period was late that something was wrong, something was off, and that didn’t fit in line with regularity. You hadn’t told Steve anything, and he almost never finds out. It wasn’t as if he never cared for you, he did; you knew he did. But, ever since the snap, things haven’t been the same.

You could never tell whether it was you or him who was distant. Your conversations never lasted for more than a few minutes and it was never too deeply personal. Sex felt like a mechanic task on most days, and on others, there was nothing at all. Cuddling and affection took a backseat, things were gloomy now. The world had lost half its population, and with it went Steve’s happiness.

However, it was one day before the great battle with Thanos did you figure out what was wrong with you from the past few weeks. You were having the usual period symptoms; cramps, back pain, bloating and nausea. However, when morning sickness kicked in, you knew right away what it was. You told Steve it was something you ate, and he nodded and left it at that. He never prodded on to know more, he never questioned you more than what you told him. On most days, you didn’t even realize why you were still with him.

Oh right. It was because you loved him. More than you could ever imagine.

A day before the great battle, you found out you were pregnant with Steve Roger’s child. A day after the great battle, you found out that Steve wanted to go back to Peggy using the Pym particles. You weren’t supposed to know yet, but Wanda warned you. It was gossip, you knew that with the ability she had, she could find out what a person was thinking. But, it was unethical to tell people.

However, Wanda cared for you with all her heart. You were the sole replacement for her brother when she lost Pietro, and she would come to you with everything that she wanted to talk about. Losing her to the snap took away a part of you that never came back until she returned. When Wanda told you what Steve was considering, everything suddenly stopped.

It was like you were paying a price for loving him. As if there was a time limit written for your love for Steve; he was always in love with Peggy, she always came first to him—this shouldn’t have come as a surprise at all.

And yet, there was some part of you that hoped. A part of you that held on to a belief that maybe, Steve Rogers could move on.

He hadn’t, you thought, letting the tears fall. You were currently standing outside Tony’s cabin. Having lost Tony and Natasha, everyone was in their own version of grief. Turning to your side, you noticed Bucky, Steve and Sam standing near the machine they had built, discussing something. Wanda, who was beside you, placed a caring hand on your shoulder and brought your attention away.

Her eyes widened as she met your gaze; she now knew what you did.

“When…?” She gasped, her eyes filling with tears.

You chuckled darkly, “I think it’s been four weeks, I think? I don’t know for sure, maybe I should go to the doctor some time today.”

“I’ll come with you.” Wanda promised, and you smiled.

You were glad you had at least her by your side. Sniffing, you took the redhead's hand in yours and squeezed tight. Wanda smiled back at you, giving you her strength.

“You’ll be okay.” She said, but you weren’t sure.

What you were sure of was that you never loved anyone as much as you love Steve.

Steve walked in to an empty home. You weren’t there, something that shocked him since it was way past 10 p.m. He walked in and looked around, and for some reason, the atmosphere was so thick he thought he could cut through it with a knife.

“(y/n)?” He called out, walking to the room the both of you shared.

The bed was neat, blankets folded and kept aside. Steve checked the bathroom and there was no sign of you. Heading to the kitchen, Steve noticed the vessels were all clean and none of it was even used all day. This only meant that you hadn’t returned from Tony’s cabin to the house, which means you were still out.

He knew he could call you on your mobile phone; he knew he could call you and ask where you were. However, you weren’t the only one who was feeling odd since the snap. Now that everyone else was back, things were supposed to be fine. However, ever since discovering that he could go back in time and be with Peggy, even as a theory, Steve wanted to take it.

Or did he?

He loved you, he knew this for sure. However, he loved Peggy too. The love he had for Peggy was ever strong, something he could never get over. But, then there you were. Bright and effortlessly beautiful from the inside and out, you blew him away as quickly as you entered his life. When Steve believed he could never be interested in someone else other than Peggy, you proved him wrong.

The fact that he was even considering going back to Peggy was breaking his heart and yet, he could not stop the yearning that came for a ‘what if’.

Putting his phone back inside his pocket, Steve let go of the only chance he had to find out where you were.

He noticed. He noticed how empty the house was when you were not home. He wanted to tell you himself that he was planning on leaving, but he noticed that you knew. It had been three days since you had left the house, three days since you hadn’t returned; Steve was no fool. Steve knew you knew he was leaving and it broke his heart.

He knew he could be happy with you, he knew that if he tried, it wouldn’t even be hard to stay and be happy.

Suddenly, when his phone rang, Steve jerked up with a fright. It was an unknown number, he wondered who it could be.

“Hello? This is Steve Rogers—”

“Right, this is Dr. Susan Geoffrey, I was only wondering when Miss (y/n) would be coming over for her appointment. She wasn’t picking her call, and you were her emergency contact so I thought I could ask you.”

Steve was confused. Scrunching his eyes together, he cleared his throat.

“I’m sorry for asking but… What appointment?”

“For an ultrasound, Mr. Rogers. Surely she’s told you she’s pregnant.”

It was as if time stopped moving. His eyes were suddenly wide and your face was all he could see, in flashes. Tears filled his eyes and his heart fell to the ground, and his stomach flipped three times and it was now hurting him. His hand flew to his mouth and he gasped, understanding where you were, now understanding what had happened.

“Mr. Rogers?”

He gulped and felt like he was swallowing fire.

“Y-Yes, uh, I’ll get back to you, doctor. Sorry for the trouble.”

Sometimes life has a cruel sense of humour, giving you the thing you always wanted at the worst time possible. Steve couldn’t believe what was happening and yet, what he couldn’t believe was how insensitive he had been to you. You were someone who would tell him everything; anything and everything, no secrets. That was what you would tell him. You had accepted that Steve’s love for Peggy would never fade, and even with that in mind, you loved him with your all.

Ever since the snap, Steve had been nothing but terrible to you. He wanted some space, but now he realized he had built a wall around himself and had completely forgotten what that could have done to you.

You, someone who trusted him so much, didn’t even tell him you were pregnant with his child. You were driven away because of Steve’s callousness and he wasn’t even sure if he could salvage what he had broken.

He called your mobile immediately, only to have it go to voicemail. He assumed you were at Wanda’s, and he knew it wasn’t too far, so Steve merely just ran out.

You had been compromising ever since you fell for him. Steve’s eyes were filled with tears when he thought about how unfair he had been to you, how unfair he had treated you. Sam was right when he said it was time to keep looking ahead. He had said the same thing to Bucky! And here he was.

Pining after something that just didn’t happen.

Wanda opened the door to Steve’s knocking and gave him a deadpan. However, once realizing what Steve was feeling, she let out a sigh.

“She’s not here.”

Steve’s heart jumped.

“Where—”

“Steve?”

A voice came from behind him. He froze before turning to face you, his eyes wide and his heart beating rapidly against his rib cage. It was as if he was looking at you for the first time, it was as if everything he had thought about you didn’t compare to this one moment. He walked a step closer and held your hands in his before breaking down in tears. Your eyes widened before placing a calm hand on his shoulder, before shooting Wanda a look.

She ushered you both inside and headed upstairs to give you two some space. You weren’t angry, just disappointed, but there was nothing else you could say. There was no way in your heart that you could hate Steve, it was impossible.

“I have been an absolute ass.” Steve said, sniffing.

You two were sitting on Wanda’s couch, your knees touching.

“I haven’t been very vocal—”

“I know. I know about the baby.”

Your eyes widened before turning to look at him.

“How—”

“Your doctor called me because you weren’t picking your calls. I was saved as an emergency contact. She told me you had an ultrasound scheduled for today.”

You were quiet. You didn’t want him to find out just yet. You wanted him to come to you about Peggy first. You wanted him to open up about Peggy, and you would have kept it a secret from him if he ever did. Because, if he wanted to go back to Peggy and you told him you were pregnant, this would always be the only reason he’d stay.

He wouldn’t stay just for you.

“Steve.” You said, not knowing how to begin.

“You could have told me—” He came to place a hand on yours, before you pulled away.

“I know you want to go back,” You said, tears filling your eyes. “To Peggy. You want to go back to her, and I won’t stop you. I can take care of myself—”

“Do you know how selfish that is?” Steve said, looking directly at you.

Your eyes widened, “Selfish? Who’s—”

“To leave you and head back to Peggy. Do you know how selfish that is?”

You stopped in your tracks. Your eyes were wide.

“Even if you didn’t tell me about the baby, I… I was only considering it because I loved her for that long, (y/n). And God, it makes me such a jerk for even expecting you to understand because sometimes I don’t understand it, myself! I could never leave you for her. Never. I could never leave you for anyone, (y/n). I haven’t noticed it, I haven’t voiced it, I’ve been a terrible lover for the past five years, but I do know this. If I had gone back to Peggy, there wouldn’t be a single day that would go by that I wouldn’t regret.”

You felt like he had stolen your words. Steve took your hands in his and leaned forward, your faces merely inches apart.

“I know you were close to Tony and Nat. I know how much you must be grieving right now. So am I. And I made a big mistake by not being there for you all these years. I know it won’t mean anything, but take my word for it. I love you, (y/n). I love you more than I can love anyone, and in a way I can never love again. You’re all I want, and all I need. Peggy is a bittersweet memory now. You’re my present and future. Our baby,” He placed his hand on your stomach, “Is our present and our future.”

Your lips were now quivering. You slowly embraced Steve, before crying on his shoulder, feeling the same familiarity return to you; one that you thought you had lost five years ago. You cried for minutes together, and Steve merely just held you, rubbing your back, cradling you, kissing your tears away.

“I love you so much, Steve. You have no idea—”

He kissed you on the lips before smiling brightly at you. He was your sun.

“I love you, too.”

#Steve Rogers #steve rogers x reader #steve rogers x y/n #captain america #captain america x reader #chris evans #steve rogers fic #steve rogers imagine #steve rogers fanfic #steve rogers fanfiction

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fairwindsandblueskies · 5 years ago

Text

The Night Before Starlight

Twas the night before Starlight in the city of Ul’dah, and excitement was in the air. The streets were lined in an assortment of decorations just for the occasion, painting the streets in vivid colors only seen during this time of year. Parents and their children were strolling by to catch a glimpse of them firsthand along with other passerby while the little helpers dressed in their red uniforms scurried about with their duties, eager to hand out presents to the children looking forward to this day.

Locke was taking a momentary break from his duties as he walked through the busy streets on his own with his blue eyes laid bare as he took in the sights around him. The glasses he usually wore were tucked away safely within the pocket of his coat as he maneuvered through the gathering crowds, stopping on occasion to glance at some hanging decorations nearby or to listen in on local musicians looking to make some extra gil with a quick performance on the side of the street. There was no doubt that cheer was in the air. The atmosphere was something to behold on its own. Ah, if only the world could always be this way.

He was suddenly interrupted from his reverie when a young Hyuran boy probably no older than twelve summers came barreling through the crowd, hitting him in the side as he ran post. “Sorry, mister! In a rush!” The boy quickly exclaimed as he stopped momentarily to glance toward Locke just seconds before rushing off and disappearing into the crowd again. The boy was already gone before Locke could say anything in retort, so he just let loose a sigh and brushed off his coat before continuing on his way. But as he ran his palm over his pocket, Locke felt something missing. He quickly darted one hand into his right pocket, finding nothing in there. And then he did the same to his left, and his inner pockets too. All empty. His glasses were nowhere to be found. And as the Hyur stood there in a moment of disbelief, it suddenly hit him. His gaze turned toward the crowd in the direction where the boy ran off to.

“That sneaky little shit.”

Samson quickly weaved his way through the crowd and ducked into a nearby alleyway the first chance he got, away from the prying eyes of others. There the boy eagerly dug into his pockets to take a closer look at his haul for the day ranging from a few scattered pieces of gil, a golden ring, and worn pair of red glasses. “Maybe this will be enough,” The boy muttered under his breath. “I sure hope it’s enough,” He quickly added in just before eagerly bolting off again. Samson was no stranger to the local pawnship, nor its owner but the moment the Hyuran boy made his way through the door and the bell attached near its frame began to ring to alert the owner inside of a new customer he was quickly greeted by a disapproving glare from the elderly looking Lalafell perched up on a stool behind the counter. “Oh no,” The Lalafell said aloud as he pressed his palm into his own face in a bit of frustration. “Sammy, we’ve discussed this. I ain’t buying any more of your ill gotten gains, boy.”

Samson scowled in frustration upon hearing those words, but quickly shot back. “C’mon, Coro! I got some good stuff this time. No one caught me to. You’ll be fine, promise.”

But the Lalafell wouldn’t have it and just shook his head. “Kid, that’s what you told me last time. I ain’t going through the trouble of being confronted by the owners of your wares anymore. Now beat it.”

Even Samson could tell by the man’s expression he wasn’t going to budge on his decision, so with a huff of annoyance the boy just turned to leave but not before slamming the door behind him out of spite as he did.

Now that he was out of the pawnshop, Samson continued on his way through the busy streets of Ul’dah while weighing out his options as he slowly made his way through the crowd. That pawnshop was the only place he knew of to get rid of his wares, and the gil he had alone wouldn’t nearly be enough. He continued walking and walking until the toyshop came into view with its vibrant display and decorations, and stopped right by the window to press his hands up against the glass as he eyed a red toy train out in one corner behind the glass.

Samson let out a sigh of defeat as he looked at the price tag, and dug his hands into his pockets to feel out what gil he had on him despite knowing deep down it wasn’t nearly enough to meet the asking price, and just shook his head as he pried himself away from the glass. The day was still young and the marketplace was sure to be busy at this time of day, especially before Starlight. It was a bit risky. The Brass Blades often stepped up the number of guards they had around the area during this time of year, but Samson was feeling confident. High risks meant high rewards, after all but if he worked at it he could probably pick enough gil from the shoppers to get the train he wanted.

The boy ducked off into a nearby alley once more, looking to cut his way across to the markets while avoiding the crowd. They were typically empty save for the occasional stray cat lurking nearby but as he rounded a corner Samson ran right into the body of a much taller, older looking man and fell back into the ground with a hard grunt. “Hey, watch it!” Said a deep and unfortunately familiar voice. When Samson opened his eyes he was greeted by the sight of a middle aged Highlander looming before him, and after sliding back a few inches along the ground the boy quickly scrambled back up to his own two feet. The man was familiar to him, known as none other than Gilbert. He had quite a reputation around the city, and had even roped Samson into some of his schemes before in the past to make a quick handful of gil using his penchant for petty theft. “Sorry, I’ll be careful, but I gotta go!” Samson said rather quickly as he lowered his head and attempted to worm his way past. This was the last thing he needed right now, but before he could get away the man suddenly took the boy by the arm, stopping Samson dead in his tracks.

“Oy, you’re that sticky fingered brat.” Said Gilbert now that he had a better look at the boy.

“Hey! Let me go!” Samson cried out as he tried to yank his arm out of the man’s grasp, but to no avail. His grip was far too strong for him to break out of. “You score a decent haul today? I’ve had no luck with all the guards around. How about sharing some of the spoils, huh?” And as he uttered those words Gilbert’s free hand began to edge forward toward the boy’s pocket but Samson wasn’t having it. He wasn’t going to let go of his earnings that easily so the boy suddenly leaned in toward the man’s arm and bit down hard. “Yo- OW! FUCK!” Gilbert yelled out in pain, but his grip on the boy’s arm still remained and in retaliation the hand edging toward Samson’s pocket balled up into a fist that went slamming into the boy’s stomach before he finally let go. Knocking the wind out of the poor kid who fell to his knees and crumpled into the ground while clutching his own belly as a pained gasp left his lips.

“You little fucking brat.” Gilbert snarled out in anger, sending little droplets of spittle flinging from his mouth between every word he uttered as he shook off the arm that the boy had bitten. Then he pulled back his right leg to deliver a kick at the downed boy, but before he did there came a second voice. One Samson didn’t recognize.

“Hey!” Cried out the voice as a black haired Hyur entered the alley. His sharp blue eyes glanced over towards the boy on the ground behind Gilbert and then narrowed toward the Highlander when he met his gaze while making his way through the narrow alleyway. The stranger’s pace started to quicken and Gilbert reached back instinctively to draw out a small blade he kept hidden away in his back pocket.

The Highlander didn’t have much time to react as he watched the man reach into the pocket of his travel-worn coat, pulling out what appeared to be a bright red vial before popping the cork that kept it sealed. With a flick of his wrist and startling accuracy the blue-eyed man approaching flung its contents into not one but both of Gilbert’s open eyes, and he immediately felt its effects as he cried out from the sudden burning. His body hunched forward as he attempt to rub the burning liquid that smelled very strongly of crushed peppers out of his eyes with the back of his hand, and had little time to react to the boot that sudden slammed in between his legs. Hitting him right where it hurt as the man went crumpling forward into the ground with a grunt of pain.

The blue-eyed man then maneuvered around Gilbert and extended a hand over toward Samson who was still on the ground, watching the events unfolding before him in such awe he had almost forgotten about the ache in his stomach from the previous blow.

“Can you stand?” Asked the stranger, to which Samson promptly nodded and took the man by the hand, helping himself up. “Good, c’mon then. Let’s get out of here before this big oaf comes to, aye?” And with that he led the boy out of the alley and back out into the open. It was safer here. Even that dumb oaf waving his knife around would have second thoughts brandishing it here out in the open, especially with the number of guards patrolling the busy streets the day before Starlight.

Samson was glad to be back out here too, and as he glanced toward his savior beside him it suddenly dawned upon the boy who this man was. He recognized the coat, and instinctively ran his hand against one of his pockets that held the pair of glasses he pilfered off the stranger earlier.

“I uh… thanks. Thanks for helping me out back there, mister. I’m gonna go now. My parents are probably worried about me.” It was a lie, one that brought a quizzical expression from the blue-eyed man glancing down toward the boy as if he saw right through his words. Did he know? Maybe. The coincidence of meeting him now was uncanny, but he didn’t want to stick around to find out. And just as Samson turned to walk away, he heard the man speak.

“Wait,” Said the man behind him which only clarified the boy’s suspicions. For a moment Samson thought about running off, but he ultimately gave up on the idea. If this man was able to track him down that easily, it was probably better to hear him out. And as the boy turned to face him, he was greeted by the sight of this stranger holding out an open hand in his direction.

“You have something that belongs to me, and I’d like it back.”

“Yours? I don’t…” And his words trailed off into silence when he watched the stranger’s gaze shifting into a stern glare. After a pause the boy reluctantly agreed as he fished out the pair of red glasses from his pocket and placed it into the stranger’s hand. “That’s a good lad. Stay out of trouble now, ya hear?” The stranger took a moment to inspect his glasses, making sure they were still in good condition before slipping them onto his face. He gave a nod toward the boy in acknowledgement and soon turned to leave. This time around, patting down his own coat just to double check as he went off on his way.

This day was just full of unwanted surprises for Samson, who still toyed over the idea of heading over to the marketplace to earn himself some extra gil but with this most recent turn of events the boy couldn’t help but wonder if tempting fate was a good idea at this point. With his luck today, a guard might have caught him before long, but he had to have that toy train. And upon working up his resolve the boy decided to go through with his plan after all. The toyshop was on his way there, and as he walked past Samson cast a quick look at the display window to find the train gone. He quickly ran up to it, and placed his hands against the glass for a closer look but the corner it was placed in was now empty.

The boy let out a loud sigh of both disappointment and frustration. He stomped his right foot against the ground in a minor fit, and grit his teeth. All that trouble with nothing to show for it in the end. What a crap Starlight this turned out to be. Feeling defeated, Samson opted to return back to the Alchemist’s Guild in the end. He slowly made his way through the city, and upon arriving near the guild a man dressed in a bright red little helper’s uniform came walking past, bumping into the boy. The little helper didn’t say a word, just offered the boy a nod before going on his way. No doubt to tend to his other duties along with the other helpers during this busy time of night, but even as the man departed Samson couldn’t help but stop and stare curiously at the man. He was wearing a thick white beard that covered most of his face. Obviously a fake, as the boy could also see the tufts of the man’s black hair peeking out from beneath the red cap he wore. Samson couldn’t put his finger on it, but the man almost looked familiar. Eventually the boy just shrugged it off and made his way into the small entrance just off to the side of the guild leading into the children’s ward.

Upon entry he was quickly greeted by the receptionist at the table who was fixing up a Starlight decoration hanging off the wall. When she caught the boy coming in from the corner of her eye she greeted him with a welcoming smile. “Welcome back, Samson. You here to see your brother again?”

To which Samson merely nodded in return, flashing a forced smile toward the woman as he walked past. He knew exactly where he needed to go. His little brother’s room was the second door to the left once you entered the hallway. The same as it had always been, and upon coming through the doorway he was greeted by the bright buck-toothed smile of his little brother. “Sam! Sam!” The boy said excitedly as he quickly motioned for his brother to come over. “Look! One of the little helpers came by and got me that toy train I’ve been wanting. Look, look!” And then he held it up. The very same toy train Samson was eyeing in the window earlier on in the day, much to his surprise. The boy then ran a hand against his pocket where he felt a small lump, and quickly shoved his hand inside to fish out a small lump of charcoal that wasn’t there before, and then it hit him. The little helper who he bumped into earlier on his way here. The black hair and blue eyes. It was the same man whose glasses he’d stolen. And despite his Starlight present, Samson couldn’t help but smile knowing his little brother had gotten exactly what he wanted as he tossed the bit of coal up into the air just to catch it again. “Happy Starlight to you too, you sneaky bastard.”

#final fantasy xiv #final fantasy 14 #ffxiv #ff14 #starlight #christmas #stories #writing

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