#agh i have a growing headach now

[the-ace-of-the-moon]

this got derailed oops

im really sorry i havent refilled the queue lately and that i havent been posting much but i sorta have good news and bad news. Both are mostly related to me personally but obviously they have been (a/e)ffecting the blog so i will be sharing but to start off, i will be continuing this blog and its here to stay. If you want my whole rant/ breakdown its below the break but long story short good news i got a job bad news im having some life problems that are making my mental problems flare up like my anxiety and trichotillomania so i will do my best but i probably will only have scattered posting for a while sorry.

The good news is that i fimally got a job so i wont just be lazing about anymore and so far ive been enjoying it there! I dont know what i get paid but tomorrow is the last day of my 2 weeks of training, which is great because i actually got proper training and also i get to see how i do on my own after this!

The bad news is i have a lot of things that have been getting set aside even before i got the job and some of it is kinda approaching deadlines and while im trying to forcus on the new job, the job is taking a forefront priority as a commitment thats blocking everything else out. I have to return a couple audio books, start and finish a painting that im just blocked on, set up a day to talk to a councillor so i can apply to a new college, apply for college, and balance my social life with my down time. The new jobs sorta eclipsing everything so im trying to think of how i can even do college while having a job and my mom keeps pressuring me about college and in the meantime my friends keep trying to schedule things and i dont know how to react so my brain keeps just kinda fritzing and then rerouting to a different task so i end up ignoring them which is bad but i dont know how to explain to this one friend that shes kinda pushy and ive been really nice about it but its not realistic to expect someone to drive for hours on end not only frequently but also at insane hours of the night and not even out of town. Like just cruising the streets from 9 pm to 3 am. And enjoy it. And not get paid for gas or anything. Just tonight she said "oh yeah and [name redacted of friend who usually tags along] is leaving in a couple weekends (this person goes to college out of state so we dont get to see them) so we are gonna need to go on a drive soon" I dont want to? But if the friend thats leaving wants to go its 2 against 1 and honestly both those 2 have been having some drama of each saying the other interacts with their significant other too much and they keep talking to me about it and its exhausting? Like i get that both of their significant others live far away and in different time zones and have jobs but neither of my friends have jobs or can drive and i have to listen to their shit waiting for something to blow up and worry about how im gonna take care of my problems and its not like i can drop these 2 bc i keep burning bridges due to lack of social motivation so i only have 4 people i actually consistently initate contact with but 2 of those people are far away and have actual lives so i try not to bother them and the other 2 are these messes and really its the one that causes the most problems but all of this has been stressing me out which makes me anxious and kinda depressed and unmotivated to do anything and its all made my trich worse but ive been doing my best to control it but now today there was too much going on bc i had my axiety at the forefront, my problems on my mind, i had an exhausting family event to go to earlier, and then this shit gets shoved back into view and since im home alone i finally dug out the tweezers ive been trying to hide from myself and now half of the inner lashes on my top left lid are gone and i look fuckin wierd and im too keyed up to sleep and im ignoring my friend and i want to pluck more but ill just go for the left eye again bc it looks wierd and ill end up with no lashes and my coworker who's training me will ask and itll be awkward and my mom will see and be mad bc she thought the trich was just a phase when i was in elelmentry and why didnt i tell her about it still going on ant ittl be a whole thing which will make it worse and now im fucking crying. Or not bc apparently ive suppressed my emotions too much and too often that im fine now ok that was wierd any way sum up lifes good but simultaneously shitty so now my lashes and skin (didnt mention but i typically have really good skin unless im stressed real bad so now my face is starting to break out and get dry and irritated) are fucked up and i wont be posting as often until i can find the motivation to fill up the queue agan. Sorry you had to read this mess and apparent roller coaster of emotions (with an anticlimactic end) but hey now you know more than you ever would have about the admin of this blog other than that shes an aro(flux)ace witch

[whumping-to-conclusions]

Howdy there! Thanks for tagging me on the post. Could I get number 20 please? [voice trails off as I vanish behind a corner in awkward slinkiness]

This snippet introduces a couple of my OCs, Eleanor and Jesse, two definitely-not-in-love programmers in their mid-20s who you'll be seeing on here every now and then. They're a pair of cuties; I hope you like them.

----

Tap. Tap. Tap-tap. Eleanor was typing away at her computer when it started.

It was early afternoon at the office and she was editing a line of code, nose practically pressed to the screen, when suddenly, her vision went fuzzy at the edges. She rubbed at her eyes, thinking that maybe she had gotten something in them, but her periphery remained fuzzy. Lights and blobs of nameless colors started popping in front of her eyes.

“That’s weird,” she murmured.

Then came the pain.

A sharp, clear stroke of pain cleaved her forehead, like someone had driven a searing nail into her brain.

“Agh!” Eleanor took her glasses off and pressed her hands to her head, but it did nothing to abate the throbbing, aching pulse, the nail driving in further second after second.

“Eleanor? You okay?” Jesse’s voice floated out to her from the neighboring cubicle. Eleanor couldn’t even answer.

She heard footsteps approaching. Jesse’s hand touched her shoulder, the brush of a bird’s wing.

“Eleanor? What’s wrong?”

“Headache,” she gasped. “Really bad headache.”

More footsteps.

“What’s going on?” Mia’s voice. A pause. “Is… she okay?”

“I don’t know. She says her head hurts.”

Eleanor heard Mia bend down beside her, felt her feel her forehead.

“Eleanor, can you hear me? Look at me.”

Eleanor lifted her head from her hands and winced at the radiance from the fluorescent light above her. It was much too bright.

Mia was kneeling beside her, and Jesse and a few of her other coworkers were standing around her. She groaned a little. “Nothing―just―the head―and I can’t really see―it’s too bright in here.” She shivered and closed her eyes, pressing her hands to her head again.

“I think she has a migraine,” Mia said to Jesse. “She’s probably going to have to take the day off, especially if she’s got no meds for it.”

“I’ll take her home,” Jesse said immediately.

“You sure? I can take her if you’re busy with something.”

“No, I―I got it.” The others murmured their assent. Jesse’s hand touched Eleanor’s shoulder again. “Can you stand up?”

Eleanor nodded. Woozy from pain, she rose from the desk. It felt like she was underwater, her movements thick and slow. She opened her eyes a crack, looking down at the floor to avoid the fluorescent lights. Mia handed Eleanor her bag and glasses. Jesse offered his hand, and Eleanor took it, grabbing at the walls of the cubicle for support as he led her out of the office.

Jesse stopped and turned to face Mia again. “Uh, tell Ben I’m taking the day off.”

Twenty minutes later, Eleanor was huddled on Jesse’s couch as he brought her a cup of tea. The room was darkened, the lamps turned off to keep from hurting her head. The apartment was cluttered, but cozy--movie posters on the walls, CDs and books piled up around the coffee table and couches, not to mention the wealth of electronics scattered around.

Jesse handed her the cup and tried not to wince. He hated seeing Eleanor like this―her skin too grey, her hands shaking, her beautiful dark eyes dull with pain. He handed her the cup. “Drink this--my mother always made it when I was sick.” Eleanor took a sip, and Jesse glanced at her for her reaction. “You like it?”

Eleanor swallowed. “Yeah, it’s―it’s good. I just….”

Jesse knew that voice―she always had a little hesitation to her speech when she was afraid of inconveniencing someone. “What is it?”

Eleanor set down the cup on the end table. “Something cold sounds better, actually.”

Jesse nodded. “No worries, I’ll get you some ice water. Anything else?”

“And… a cool rag for my head sounds pretty good right now,” she admitted.

“Of course. I’ll be back in a second.”

Jesse dashed out to the apartment’s kitchen and poured a glass of ice water for Eleanor, then took a clean dish rag out of the cupboard and ran it under the faucet. He started wringing it out with more force than what was strictly necessary. The worst part of this whole thing was that there was absolutely nothing he could do to help Eleanor but keep her comfortable. His job as a programmer was all about fixing―tweaking the code, eliminating bugs, changing the programs to function exactly as intended. But this was a bug he couldn’t fix. He hated it.

Jesse returned to the living room along with the glass and cold rag. “Here you go, El.”

Eleanor took a sip and draped the rag on her head, brushing her dark bangs aside. Jesse took a seat on the other end of the couch and tried to let his mind wander. But he was still too fixated on Eleanor’s pain. He found himself looking back at her every minute or so, just to make sure that she was okay.

“You can go do something else if you want,” Eleanor said softly, after a while.

Taking care of you is what I want. “I’m staying here.”

Eleanor nodded.

The afternoon passed by and slowly changed into night, and Jesse’s stomach started to rumble. “I… kinda need some food,” he said. “How are you feeling?”

Eleanor gave a listless shrug. “Still hurts. And I feel a little sick to my stomach.”

Jesse took her hand and rubbed at her knuckles gently. “I’m sorry. Does food sound good or no?”

“I don’t really feel like eating.”

“Okay. Let me know if you want something later, though, yeah?”

“I will.”

Jesse turned on some classical music and thirty minutes later he sauntered out of the kitchen with a bowl of tomato soup.

“I’m sorry,” Eleanor said as he sat down on the couch again.

Jesse’s brows drew together. “For what? You haven’t done anything.”

“I... didn’t want to put you through this whole mess. I… I don’t want to be a burden on you.” She picked at the hem of her blouse.

Jesse set down the soup and looked her straight in the eyes. “Now, I want you to listen to me, El. You are not a burden. Don’t ever think that, okay?”

“Okay.” Eleanor nodded, then rubbed at her temples. “It just hurts so bad.”

“I know.” Jesse gave a sympathetic grimace. “Is there anything that can help take your mind off the pain? Any movies you like, or music? Or maybe… no, that’s a bit silly.”

“What?”

Jesse felt his ears getting hot. “I was going to suggest I could read a book to you, but, you know, if that’s childish or whatever―”

“No, that sounds nice. Really,” Eleanor added, leaning forward earnestly. “You seem like you’d have a good reading voice.”

“Okay. What sounds good?” Jesse got up and walked over to the bookshelf on the other side of the room and started running his index finger down the spines of some of the books. “I have all kinds of novels--mystery, fantasy, a little horror but you probably don’t want that right now….”

“Any fairy tales?”

Her voice was so soft, a bird’s wing brush, that Jesse wasn’t sure he’d heard her correctly. “Sorry, what was that?”

Eleanor blushed and cleared her throat. “Sorry, I, uh, asked if you had any fairy tales.”

Jesse smiled. Look at her, all embarrassed about it. “I think I do, actually. Give me a moment.”

Jesse darted through the door on the opposite side of the living room and into his bedroom. It took a few minutes to locate the book, but eventually he found it stashed under his bed.

He walked back into the living room toting the huge volume and flopped down on the couch beside Eleanor. The cover was dusty, faded pink and green, and embossed with curly gold letters. Jesse rubbed the dust off the cover. “Hans Christian Andersen’s Compendium of Fairy Tales. My favorite as a kid, actually. Here we go.” He flipped to the first page and cleared his throat. “Once upon a time….”

Jesse had no idea how much time passed as he read tale after tale, keeping his voice lilting and soft as to not aggravate Eleanor’s migraine. Eleanor watched the pages turn with her lovely eyes, which seemed to grow just a bit brighter as he read. Eventually, Jesse realized that it was very silent, and looked over. Eleanor had fallen asleep against his arm, her head nestled in the hollow of his shoulder. Her breathing was deep and even.

Jesse didn’t want to disturb her, so he simply stayed like that for a while, listening to the sounds of the night, until the book slipped from his hands and he, too, drifted off with a head full of dreams.

[breathinglifeintomyoc]

Locklyle Pt. 4

Fanfic of the Lockwood & Co. series by Jonathan Stroud. I realize this doesn't resolve the cliffhanger, so soz for that! Thanks for the patience <3 You can read the whole story (thus far!) on my page and AO3. (Word Count: 750)

The night had been concernedly quiet — other than the constant noise from Loretta Key, of course. The earplugs were invaluable, but not wholly impervious to psychic noise, so by the time her, Holly, and George decided to take a snack break, her headache was not small. They had heard nothing from Lockwood or Kipps so they assumed they were having the same luck, or lack thereof. “Strange that Lockwood hasn’t found the source in the sitting room,” Holly said, nibbling delicately on a granola square, “He’s usually pretty fast about identifying them and that’s where the other teams had all their trouble.”

“I agree,” Lucy said, massaging her temples. She could picture Lockwood’s growing discontent with the lack of progress, but further musings about the way his eyebrows would furrow or how he would run his fingers through his hair were halted by the throbbing of her head. “You alright, Luce? You want to stay here?”

“No, I’m fine. Just irritated,” She replied, “Let’s try this flight of bedrooms. They’re the most likely place for a source after the thirty other most-likely-places we already tried.” George nodded and crammed the rest of his biscuits into his mouth, placing the wrapper on the ground. “Lockwood will know we took an early break from all the biscuit wrappers you left,” Holly scolded. George just shrugged and cracked his back, “Bah, snacks breaks always happen right before you find the source. It’s science. He won’t get a chance.”

Not that George was employed to be anything other than right, but Lucy still hated when he was. In truth they should have surveyed the room furthest down the hallway earlier, considering it was one of the few still partially furnished in the whole manor, the walls lined with bookshelves and paintings. “Temp’s down,” Holly said as they entered. “That’s a first,” Lucy muttered, “She still hasn’t shut up, but…” Articulating that the sound felt different, even though it sounded the same, was difficult, and Lucy wasn’t sure if it did — whatever that would mean — or if she was just getting ready for a fight. “Let’s just pull some books and see what happens” She said, drawing her rapier. “This bit is the coldest,” Holly said from the other side of the room, grabbing one of the tomes, “Agh!” The book slammed on the ground as Holly recoiled from the now-open space on the bookshelf where spiders were pouring out — their shiny black bodies, leaching across the shelf, reflecting the harsh moonlight. “We might be in the right place,” George said with a grimace, grabbing a thick volume and tossing it at the spiders, “Let’s get—” George was cut off by a shuddering and creaking as the shelf beside him and Holly shifted. Lucy nearly stumbled with the sudden deafening silence. George reached for the slightly ajar shelf, “Huh, a secret roo— ”

“Wait!”

But Lucy was too late and everything went to shit.

The order of events was hazy and it happened in a heart-beat. George’s cracking open the door released enough psychic pressure to send them flying, Loretta surged out and she looked unhappy, books were falling everywhere, someone threw a flare, it was a mess. Lucy couldn’t tell if she lost consciousness from taking book-damage, but when she regained spacial awareness, she was on the ground looking up at Lockwood’s back. He tossed a salt-bomb at the visitor, who definitely didn’t appreciate it, and Lucy pushed to her feet. “Glad you could make it,” She said. ‘It probably would have got them, otherwise,’ Lucy thought, sparing a glance at George and Holly who were strewn on the opposite side of the room than she saw them last. “The source is definitely in there,” She said, tossing a salt-bomb when the visitor’s interest seemed to turn away from them. ‘Kipps must be on it.’

“Go help him, I’ll keep her—”

The visitor looked at her and Lucy’s mind went white — her thoughts lost to an absolute breath-stealing pain. She numbly registered that her rapier was no longer in her hands, one of her ear-plugs was missing. She was falling. The world was consumed by Loretta’s screams and then it was worse. It was anguish. It was Loretta’s anguish. Lucy felt all of it.

For a moment beyond time, Lucy saw the gifts and embraces and smiles. A gentle man brushing a curl behind her ear, his fingers being replaced with cold steel and Lucy felt all of the confusion, the betrayal, and the pain.

[razorblade180]

Self interest

You know what’s worse than humiliation? Getting saved from it. Normally that’s what people want but not for Summer. Not when it came from the most insufferable people around. All the smarmy attitude and all the ego they’d bring was enough to make her stomach turn. She’d rather take a stab to the side; which is exactly why she was lipping through the snowy forest with just that predicament. It wasn’t so bad. So what if she was bleeding? No big deal. Could be worse. Her failed snowboarding trick could’ve sent her splintered board through worse areas or she could’ve flat out broken bones. Well….her knee did hurt, a lot. Okay maybe this was a bad situation.

Summer:Note to self, bankrupt that snowboard lodge for shoddy craftsmanship.

“Maybe you’re just trash?”

Summer:Oh I really…really don’t need this right now Shiva.

Summer activated the flame dust in her clothes to stave off any unwanted commentary. Unfortunately….

“News flash, that isn’t gonna work right now. You see the thing about body temperature and blood loss-”

Summer:I know! *winces* this isn’t my first puncture wound. You of all people know that. Just….let me think quietly for once?

“You don’t think critically on a good day. I’m not trusting your intelligence when you’re bleeding on fresh snow. Switch with me.”

Summer:You’re funny.

“And you’re actually dying.”

Summer:Heal it then. You’re good at that at least.

“This isn’t one of your idiotic cuts. You have a puncture wound. You’re in no shape or state of mind to- fucking stop being so useless all the time! Why am I explaining shit you definitely understand?! I’m not gonna let you die some pathetic death.”

Summer:Is it pathetic, or upsetting? It’s your self-preservation that’s making you act so don’t act like you give a damn. I’m perfectly happy ruining your life today.

“And the lives of your family apparently, or did the blood loss made you overlook that?

Summer:I……

“Sucks doesn’t it? Personally I don’t care much about their feelings towards you, but you have feelings. Annoying ones that attach you to them; preventing you from doing everything possible to get rid of me; well…most days anyway. How’s it feel knowing the only person who doesn’t give a damn about you is you? Even I have more interest in your own health.”

Summer:…..I need you to be absolutely true with me right this instant. You’re only interested in getting me safe right now? Do you plan on leaving immediately after?

“Nope.”

Summer:Oh for the love of-”

Her sentence was cut off by a snow covered branch that sent her falling forward. Pain radiated in her gut and the warmth it brought made her breathing raspy.

Summer:Can you at least not hurt anybody!? It wouldn’t even be in your best interest. How much can you do with a pathetic body in this state anyways.

“Huh, I guess you can think with a lack of blood. Very well, you have my word.”

Summer:Your word is shit.

“I think I like you when your like this.”

A strong chill washed over. The injured girl took a sigh of exhaustion, giving up resistance and waking up in her head. Still tired, she dared not move. For once her head felt comforting.

Outside, Shiva pulled out the wood. The shock was nothing to her and the blood froze within seconds while the wound began closing. A show of good faith made her take the broken board along as she continued walking. Her leg limbered up step by step. Before long, she started running. Feeling the wind hit her skin and cold nip her nose was like paradise.

Shiva:Finally! Being outside is much more pleasant when you’re not pestering me 24/7.

“That thing you just said, yeah, that’s how want to feel all the time!”

Shiva:Ah so that’s the feeling? Oh well, only one of us gets that.

“Why are you running?”

Shiva:I barely get to. Your legs are strangely stiff. I can feel your bones creak like an old door. Drink milk for goodness sake. It might actually make you grow.

“I don’t care about my height.”

Shiva:I wasn’t talking about your height.

“…….I don’t care about that either……”

Shiva:🎶I know what you think about.🎶 Lying is not your strongest skill. By the way, where’s home?

“Just take me down the mountain path.”

Shiva:Where’s that?

“E…Excuse me? I’ve been here plenty of times. How-”

Shiva:I’m not always around remember? You hate being cold so things get spotty for me.

“…How old am I?”

Shiva:Why would I know? Thirteen? Wait…your fourteen now.

“Fifteen.”

Shiva:Huh…good for you. Well not entirely. I thought your pass the age of milk support.

“I’m sick of talking to you.”

Shiva:Your loss. I’ll just…wander around. Down is progress.

Progress was slow and uneventful, but Shiva eventually found a path to follow. Being lost wasn’t an issue anyways. It was nice watching the scenery. Not to mention it was difficult to get lost when you’re sensitive to temperature. All she really had to do is go towards sources of heat. In this case, it was a lodge. Through trial, error, and cloudy information in her head, Shiva managed to find Summer’s room there. The wave of heat that hit her instantly gave her a headache. The inside of her throat became dry. Shiva didn’t even bother trying to get to a bed. She just let the girl’s body fall flat onto the board.

“Hey! What if you broke my nose!?”

Shiva:You wanted to bleed out in a forest. You don’t get to lecture me about your body. A believe a thank you is in order.

“I’m not thanking someone who acted in their self interest and did the bare minimum of something decent, which was not harming another.”

Shiva:And you say I’m cold? Have it your way. This aching, flat chested bag of bones you justify as a body is your problem to wash. *switches back*

Summer:I am not fla…agh….oh, oh this is pain. This is very much the pain of being alive. Of course you healed the wounds but not pain! You walked in this condition!?

“Blame yourself. Either say thank you next time so I’ll consider properly healing you, or be smart enough to take of your own body.”

Summer:….CCT scroll, call Penny!!!!

Penny:Salutations! You called?

Summer:Penny….I need medical care.

Penny:My goodness! What happened!?

Summer:

Summer:A very bad trick.

[starbornvalkyrie]

what we could be | part four

A/N: I’m sorry it’s taken me so long to update this one! This part fought me hard, to be honest. It’s a little shorter than the previous parts, but I just had to get past it to move the story along. I’ll leave you with this: things have to get worse before they get better. Enjoy!

warnings: language, smut, alcohol.

to recap: part three | what we could be masterlist

my fanfiction masterlist

my ask box for tags, prompts, and chit chat

“What did you just say?

He heard a huff on the other end. “I know you’re not that dense, Rowan,” she growled, “You know exactly what I said.”

“But… but…” he stammered. So unlike him. “But how?”

“How? Hm, well, when a man and a woman both consent to it, they get naked, then the man takes his dick and--”

Rowan snapped. “Aelin, shut the fuck up, I’m not an idiot.”

“Coulda fooled me,” she mumbled, and Rowan let out a sigh.

“You’re pregnant.”

“About nine weeks, yes.”

Rowan paused. “And it’s mine?”

Aelin barked a laugh with no humor behind it. “Unless you’re also accusing me of cheating, then yes, it’s yours.”

“I’m just trying to make sense of it all,” he retorted. Rowan’s head is spinning. It feels strange, not being able to control his emotions. He wants to suggest they start the conversation over, a little more calmly.

But of course, it’s Aelin. She’s a firecracker on a good day, and he had to assume she hadn’t had a good day in a long, long while. “What is there to make sense of? We fucked, you didn’t pull out, and now I have another life form growing in my stomach.”

He was about to correct her on the location of the baby when his brain caught onto her tone. “Hold on. Are you… mad at me?” he asked, rubbing his temples to chase away the impending headache that was forming. 

“Yes! No… agh, I don’t know! Damn hormones…” She said that last part more to herself than to him, and he was starting to soften up to her mixed feelings when she yelled, “You got me pregnant!”

“Well, it takes two to tango, Aelin!”

“That doesn’t even make sense!”

“Gah, Aelin!” 

“Rowan!” She screamed so loudly, Rowan could have sworn he felt the sonic boom from across the ocean.

He had to remember who he was talking to, had to think about what she’s going through. As calmly as he could, though there was still a slight bite to his words, he said, “I think… I think I need some time to process this. Can I call you later?”

There was a pause so long that Rowan had to check to make sure the call hadn’t dropped. After a minute, he heard her take a deep breath, something he knew she did whenever she was trying to prevent herself from saying something stupid. Or mean. Or all of the above.

“Later… Got it. Bye, Rowan.” And she hung up. Rowan wasn’t sure how long he stood there with his phone still to his ear, but he pulled it away and stared at it, willing all the answers he wished he knew to appear from out of nowhere. When did he even stand up?

Aelin is pregnant.

Aelin is pregnant with his child.

From the sounds of it, she’s going to keep it. Gods, they hadn’t even gotten that far in the conversation.

Aelin is pregnant.

Rowan is going to be a father.

He thinks he’s going to be sick.

Deep breaths, Rowan.

Rowan waited until he was sure he wasn’t going to lose the sandwich he ate on the way home, then left to find Fenrys.

Fenrys will either know what to say or sit with him while he drowns himself in liquor. Either way, Rowan just needs his friend.

Rowan ran from his housing to Fenrys’ classroom on Mistward’s campus and got there just in time to see him flirting with one of his classmates.

“Moonbeam.”

Fenrys looked up at him and grinned. Rowan wasn't sure what his own face looked like, but he could see concern flash through Fenrys’ eyes. 

“Hey, Whitethorn, why do you look like you’ve seen a ghost?” Fenrys clapped Rowan on the shoulder, trying to lighten his mood.

“Aelin is pregnant.” Fenrys’ smile faltered, his grip tightened ever so slightly. He looked over his shoulder to tell his classmate he’ll catch up with her later then guided Rowan towards the edge of campus where the bars are. Rowan had never felt more grateful to have a friend like Fenrys.

They made their way to the hole-in-the-wall tavern they found their first week in Wendlyn. The bar food is subpar, but they have a top notch selection of beers on tap. Rowan, however, went straight for three shots of tequila then an old-fashioned to sip. Mixing tequila and whiskey at three in the afternoon probably wasn’t the smartest thing to do, but Rowan didn’t feel like being smart.

Fenrys waited until Rowan ordered his second old-fashioned before speaking. “So… Aelin is pregnant.” It wasn’t a question, but Rowan nodded. “Wow. Okay, um, how do you feel about that?”

Rowan took a long sip of his drink before answering. “I don’t know man, I haven’t really given myself time to process it. She called to tell me, we fought, we hung up. And now I’m here,” he lifted his glass. Drink. “Gods, I’m also pretty sure we broke up before I left for the program here.”

“What do you mean you’re ‘pretty sure’? Are you together or not? And what on earth did you have to fight about?” Rowan drank for every question Fenrys asked, finishing the glass. His brain was finally getting muddled, his racing thoughts becoming an ugly, incoherent blur. He signaled for another drink. 

“I don't know, man. We fought before I left, and I told her we’d talk when I got back to Terrasen. Whatever the fuck that was supposed to mean.” Rowan thought drinking with Fenrys would help him, but it actually might be pissing him off instead.

Before Fenrys could pester him some more, he tossed back the old-fashioned in one go, and stood up on shaky legs to leave. “Hey, let me help you get back, dude.”

“No, thanks, you’ve helped enough.” A hurt look flickered across Fenrys’ face, and Rowan felt guilty for a moment. It wasn’t his fault Rowan was in a shit mood, but he couldn’t do anything about it in this state. He made a mental note that he hoped he’ll remember to apologize and have an alcohol-free conversation with him later.

The walk back to his housing was a blur. Rowan had to stop multiple times to settle his stomach, but luckily he made it back without ruining the pristine Wendlyn sidewalks with his vomit. He had hardly sobered by the time he found his building.

Rowan’s feet took him in the opposite direction of his room, but he couldn’t do anything to stop it. He didn’t care to. Next thing he knew, Remelle opened the door to his incessant knocking for the second time that day. She looked like she was about to yell at him again, so Rowan grabbed the back of her head with one hand and her waist with the other and crashed his lips to hers. She didn’t protest.

He pushed her back into her room and slammed the door behind him. He led her towards her bed, clothes flying along the way. When she laid back against her pillows and spread her legs, he didn’t hesitate to climb on top of her and enter her roughly. There was no passion in their coupling, only the urge to release, to forget.

They stayed in bed through dinner, alternating between laying there, panting, and fucking each others’ brains out. It wasn’t until Rowan slid into Remelle for the third time that night that he let himself realize what he was doing--let himself realize that even though he was in bed with Remelle, he was imagining he was with a different blonde across the sea.

He pulled out of her abruptly, much to her dismay, and gathered his clothes. Not bothering to don his shirt, he ran back to his room.

In the privacy of his own quarters, in the silence with his thoughts, Rowan allowed himself to cry.

---

After Aelin’s conversation--if she could even call it that--with Rowan yesterday morning, she thought she’d panic. But instead, she felt hollow, alone. She didn’t know what she was supposed to expect. Whatever it was, it wasn’t that.

She’d spent the rest of the day in bed, only getting up when Lysandra forced her to eat something and to take a bath where she stayed for two hours.

She’d wished that her mother was there to tell her what to do next, but then she cried thinking that her parents would never meet their grandchild. Her baby would only know about Evalin and Rhoe through stories, her memories. She’d always thought that if she did one day find herself pregnant, she’d have her mother there to guide her.

But her mother was dead, Rowan couldn’t even speak to her, and Aelin was alone.

Eventually, Lysandra got sick of Aelin’s wallowing, no matter how supportive she was trying to be. Aelin thanked the gods for keeping Lysandra with her. When they had dinner last night, Lysandra suggested she needed to go out and do something to distract herself from the pit Rowan left in her heart.

At the same exact moment, she’d received a text from Chaol asking if she was feeling better.

Lysandra took that as a sign and urged her to reach out and reschedule their coffee date.

So here she was, sitting at a table in UT’s campus coffee shop. Aelin sipped on her lemon-ginger tea--not her favorite, but it helped her stomach--as she waited for Chaol to get out of his class. She couldn’t stop checking her phone for any messages from Rowan, but there were none. Even a quick Instagram search revealed he hadn’t been active since yesterday morning. With a sigh, she silenced her phone and put it in her purse.

After a few minutes of people watching through the window, she spotted Chaol’s tall figure coming from the chemistry building. Aelin waved at him as he entered and watched as he went to order before joining her.

“Aelin! I’m so glad we could meet. You’re feeling better?” He sat down across the table from her, but the table was small and his legs were so long, his knee brushed hers. The subtle touch made her blush, and she tried to keep the color at bay.

She smiled at him. “A little. Enough to be out and about, not enough to scarf down a whole chocolate cake no matter how badly I wanted to.” He laughed and the sound made her heart flip. Damn pregnancy hormones.

“Well, when you feel like you can eat again, I’ll gladly buy one for you.” He moved to grab something from his backpack-- a stack of papers. “I know this is the last thing you’d want to think about right now, but before I forget, these are the notes and everything from the lectures you missed. You still have to make up a lab, but the professor said you have until the end of next week.”

Aelin took the papers and thanked him. She suddenly felt guilty for how sweet he was being to her without knowing the extent of the situation she’s found herself in. She likes Chaol a lot and didn’t feel that it was fair to string him along.

“Can I actually--”

“So, Aelin--” They both spoke then broke off at the same time, chuckling at their synchronicity. “You can go first,” he said.

She released a steadying breath through her nose. “Okay, there was a reason I wanted to meet with you today. I have something to tell you, but I’m not entirely sure how you’ll react.”

“It’s alright, Aelin. You can tell me anything, I won’t judge.” Too sweet. Too damn sweet, this guy.

“Okay,” she repeated. “I- I’m pregnant.”

Aelin watched Chaol as he processed the bomb she just dropped. She noticed his eyes widen ever so slightly, his mouth gaped open. After a few agonizing moments, he shook his head to clear the daze. He was about to reply when the barista called his name to pick up his order. 

With an apologetic glance, Chaol stepped away. Aelin closed her eyes, mourning whatever could have happened between the two of them. She opened them when she heard Chaol take his seat across from her once more.

“So, you’re pregnant.”

“I am.”

“And I’m assuming… Rowan is the father.” She nodded apprehensively, knowing his acquaintanceship with Rowan was tense, at best. The two men never clicked. They had only met once last semester when Aelin and Chaol had to work late for an inorganic chemistry lab, and whatever vibes they gave each other were not pleasant. Ever since, she tried to avoid the two of them ever crossing paths again, though Rowan frequently expressed his displeasure whenever she brought up their work in the lab.

“Wow. How are you really feeling then? You’ve been having morning sickness, I take it?” Aelin tried not to show how shocked she was by the genuine concern and automatic acceptance in his voice. Why couldn’t this have been Rowan’s reaction?

Nonetheless, she nodded. “It actually hit me for the first time when we originally planned our coffee date. I went straight to Lysandra’s house to take a test and had it confirmed at the doctor at the end of the week. I think I’m still processing it all, actually.” 

“That’s understandable, Aelin, this is huge. And Rowan, does he know? He’s studying abroad in Wendlyn this semester, right?”

Aelin let out a humorless laugh. “Oh yeah. He knows. Not that he cares.”

Chaol narrowed his eyes, likely figuring out how their conversation had gone, but he didn’t pry for more details. Aelin was grateful for that. Grateful for him. “Well, I’m not going anywhere, Aelin. I get it if you’re not looking to date anyone while you figure this out with Rowan, but I still want to be around you.” He reached across the table and took her hand in his. “I like you a lot, I have for a while now, in all honesty, but a friendship with you is better than nothing.”

Aelin stared at their joined hands, tears welling in her eyes. “Thank you, Chaol. Your support means more than you know.”

He leaned across the table to kiss her on the cheek, and Aelin couldn’t stop her blush this time. They steered the conversation to other topics, talking endlessly about everything they could think of.

Though Aelin was sad at the thought of what could have been, she felt hope reignite in her chest.

---

Thanks for reading! If you’d like to be added to/taken off my general SJM tag list just send me an ask! i’m very good at losing them in the comments. love y’all!

@maddymelv​ || @lucy617​ || @tillyrubes10​ || @faerie-queen-fireheart​ || @tottenhamboys20​ || @the-third-me​ || @superspiritfestival​ || @rolltide7​ || @courtofjurdan​ || @sleeping-and-books​ || @aelinchocolatelover​ || @julemmaes​ || @sorrehnotsorryy​ || @courtofjurdan​ || @acourtofaelinbryceandfeyre​ || @darlinminds​ || @lucieisabooknerd​ || @queen-of-glass​ || @jlinez​ || @abookishfreak​ || @stardelia​ || @ladywitchling​ || @rockgirl321​ || @sjmships​ || @thewayshedreamed​ || @mamakramer​ || @meowsekai​ || @sweetlyvillainous​

[fabulouspotatosister]

Reset - Part Two: Day Out

a/n: Hello and welcome to part two of Reset! This one’s the last of the rewritten chapters - after this one is all new stuff. I hope you’re all having a good day/night where ever you are, and I hope you enjoy this part!

Word count: 3671

[Part One] [Part Two: You are here!] [Part Three] [Part Four] [Part Five]

Birdsong. Today, you wake up to birdsong.

 The curtains are still drawn, sunlight filtering through the gauzy material, casting the whole room in a soft light only reserved for soft moments on television. You roll over and inhale the smell of vanilla and roses - you made a very good choice shopping for detergents the other day. Some of them smell too much like chemicals to be real.

 John’s sleeping next to you. You don’t think you’ve ever seen him sleep so deeply - dressed in a simple button up shirt and comfy pajama pants, he looks more peaceful than he usually does on a daily basis. It’s a good look on him. You smile and sling an arm over his waist, grimacing when he shifts in his sleep.

 John shifts again, mumbling something in a language you don’t recognize. You’d have to ask him about it later, when he was more awake - now, you were doing something nice for him. John didn’t like sleeping in, he liked to be up bright and early. If he was sleeping in today, he must have been busy last night. What was he even doing last night?

 You watch him breathe deeply, looking at the way his hair falls over his face because he never bothers to comb it. His lips are parted slightly and he just looks so young like this. You reach out to cup his cheek; John melts into your touch, his sleepy self apparently still capable of handling affection, and you hold back a laugh. His lips quirk up into the smallest of smiles when you stroke his cheek.

 You try to memorize the features of his face - when your gaze falls onto his closed eyes, you frown. He’s asleep, and resting, but his eyes look darker. Tired, somehow. You smile sadly. He’s always so busy...

 You suck in a breath when he peers up at you, glazed, sleepy eyes partially hidden behind a head of messy brown hair. You wince when you hear him mumble something under his breath, confused.

 “Hi,” you whisper, moving your hand up to tangle it in his hair, “sorry. I didn’t mean to wake you.”

 “S’okay,” John mumbles, still groggy. He squeezes his eyes shut for a moment, trying to blink the sleep out of his eyes. “Good morning.”

 It comes out more like a question, and you laugh. “Good morning to you too.”

 John hums, and you settle into a comfortable silence. When you pull at him slightly, tugging at his shirt to bring him closer to you, he doesn’t pull away. He rests his head in the crook of your neck and you giggle when you feel his breath tickle your neck.

 “Sweet dreams?” you ask, still keeping your voice low, and he shakes his head.

 “Yeah, I think so.” He presses his lips to your neck and doesn’t move away. “Did I snore?”

 “Do you even snore?” You laugh, wrapping your arms around his shoulders. “I don’t think so.”

 “Don’t lie.”

 “You’d know if I was lying, sweetheart.”

 It’s moments like this where you realize how lucky you are to be here with him. And that you have to remember to always be grateful, because this is your life forever. Lying with him of the softest bed you’ve ever own, just under the covers, hidden from the world. Nothing is wrong, you think. This is perfect, he is perfect, and nothing has ever been wrong. You’re sure about that.

 “You’ve gotten awfully quiet,” you say, daring to raise your voice just a little higher, just like how the sun is rising a little higher too. You don’t want to get out of bed yet, though, so you squeeze John a little tighter. “Don’t tell me you’ve fallen asleep on me.”

 “It’s tempting,” John whispers, lifting his head to look at you. The soft light grows brighter, illuminating his pretty face and that boyish smile that you love so much. “But I could be looking at you.”

 “Don’t make me blush.” But you are blushing. You hold John’s gaze and hope that he doesn’t see the way your cheeks must be darkening. “I mean it! You could have work today.”

 John raises his eyebrows. “You’re in for a surprise then.”

 “What do you mean?”

 “It’s my day off,” John supplies, grinning brightly. Something whispers in the back of your mind.

 You frown at him. “And you didn’t mention this to me yesterday because..?”

 “Surprise!” John says brightly, tapping the side of your nose with his finger.

 “Close your eyes - Surprise!”

 Your frown deepens - surprise, now why did that sound so familiar? You try to dig through your memories to find out why it sounds so familiar, but your mind feels foggy... and blurry. Like flying through a cloud and getting turbulence. Maybe it’s too early to think about that.

 “Hey,” John says softly, peering into your eyes, his brows furrowed in concern, “Are you alright?”

 “Are you sure you’re alright? You’re not feeling well.”

 Definitely too early to think about it.

 You shake your head and plaster a smile onto your face. “I’m - yeah. Everything’s fine.” Move the conversation away. This isn’t where this is supposed to go - “How did you get a day off?”

 John almost looks offended, pouting at you like a big child. “Are you doubting my abilities? The hard work I’ve done? Who are you and what have you done with my wife?”

 Your wife... your lovely wife... You’re still smiling. You pat his cheek affectionately even though he’s still looking at you with an exaggerated mix of disgust and horror. “Your wife is right here,” you say, but it feels a lot like a lie, and it shouldn’t feel like a lie because you’re married, aren’t you? You are his wife. “And she’s asking you what you’re going to do with your day off.”

 “All the time in the universe,” John hums. You nod excitedly. “Well, I did have some plans.”

 “Plans?” You lean closer to him. He snuggles up to you, draping an arm over your waist. “Now I’m interested.”

 “D’you remember our first date?”

 You pause at that. You try to go looking in your brain again, but the fog is still there, keeping you out from things you probably should be knowing - there’s nothing about a first date, and when you look even further, nothing about a wedding either. Your head is starting to hurt a little, a dull ache between your temples. Like a threat. “No.”

 “No?” John’s eyes widen. “Blimey. You don’t remember? Linda’s diner. You ordered us milkshakes.”

 “I... did?”

 For a moment, you wonder what’s wrong with him. You keep looking, you keep trying to go back, but there’s nothing there. Why don’t I remember - A jolt of electricity runs down your spine, like static electricity? The dull ache between your temples goes away, and for once, your mind is completely clear, and you completely remember.

 Your mouth moves. “Silly me. Of course, I remember. I remember it all.”

 “Yes! Yes, of course.” John sits up quickly, the sheets bunching underneath him. “What do you say? Let’s have a bit of a throwback, eh?”

 You grin widely, but that’s just your mouth moving. “I say yes.”

 Your morning routine passes by in a blur. You’re sitting in front of your mirror, blow-drying your hair, laughing when John takes the blow-dryer from your hands and starts miming a shooting gun. John places his hands on your shoulders and you reprimand him for moving you when you’re doing your makeup – he just laughs and tells you you’re beautiful either way. He says the same thing when you’re picking out clothes. It’s all perfect, just like a movie.

 “Well, you clean up nice,” you tell John as he stands near the front door, fiddling with his necktie. He smiles, holding his hand out, and you take it graciously, feeling like a princess. “Very gentlemanly of you.”

 “Are you ready?”

 “Ready as I’ll ever be.”

 “Alright, then – allons-y!” John cheers, swinging the door open to reveal a beautiful blue sky. “French for –”

 “Let’s go,” you both say at the same time. A beat of awkward silence passes before you shake your head and laugh. John joins in, and the sound is beautiful. He links his arm with yours and you start to make your way to the diner.

 The streets of your quaint little town are quiet today. You frown at the silence. All you hear is birdsong. And the birdsong is beautiful, of course, but it’s just birdsong. There should be people there. Neighbors, especially, like the ones that came to your wedding. You glance at John, walking beside you – he’s frowning too. He’s noticed it. “John, do you-”

 “Yes,” he says lowly. He stops, straightening, squinting at his surroundings. “Where are our neighbors?”

 “I don’t know,” you reply, unsure, and John’s face turns serious.

 The streets are empty. They feel like they’ve never been empty, but they’re empty now and the whole place feels like a ghost town. You and John stand still on the sidewalk. You listen for anything – distant music, distant talking – anything that might tell you that all your neighbors are just far away, but there’s nothing. Nothing but the sound of the wind, and birdsong.

 Where are all the people? Who are your neighbors? Did you ever have neighbors? Your headache comes back, a pounding pain in your temples now, still a threat. You groan, and John towards you in concern. Stop thinking.

 “It’s too quiet. A small town like this shouldn’t be too quiet,” John continues. “Something’s wrong, I never did like birdsong that much – agh!”

 “John!”

 John clutches his head – he feels the pain too, somehow. You reach out to him and he recoils, pulling away like the pain is coming from you, and your heart breaks at that. The questions burn in your mind and suddenly they’re doused with water like they were never there. The pain is gone now. All you had to do was stop thinking.

 You have very, very lovely neighbors.

 “You okay?” you ask John, and he nods, looking dazed. There’s a far-away look in his eyes.

 “Yeah,” he replies, out of breath. “Fine. Let’s keep going, yeah?”

 They’re all old, and it’s a quaint, quiet town. It’s supposed to be this quiet.

 …

 The diner is as fragrant as you remember. There’s that thing, about smells and memory and how they’re connected, and the diner is solid proof of it. Just opening the doors and walking in makes you feel nostalgic about a past you never had. John takes in a deep breath too, and his face breaks into a wide smile.

 “What do you say we take a seat at the counter?” John leads you to the stools, helping you to your chair before he sits down. Behind the counter is a young lady, younger than you, with a head of curly red hair and bright eyes. She looks so innocent and nice, and you wave to her politely. She waves back. Her arm is a little stiff.

 “H-hello,” she stutters, pulling out a notepad from her apron, “how may I… help you today?” You smile at her warmly – somehow her voice sounds familiar.

 But poor girl. She’s stuttering so much, and she looks so pale. It must be her first day on the job with nerves like that. “I’ll have a banana milkshake and fries, please,” you say, as gently as you can. The waitress doesn’t ease up, and grows even paler.

 John takes your hand from under the table. “I’ll have whatever the lady’s having,” he says smoothly. The girl nods, scurries to a door, and closes it very slowly behind her. It doesn’t make a sound at all.

 “The lady?” You turn to him. He shrugs and grins. “That’s terrible. You’ve been watching too many romcoms.”

 John lifts your chin with his thumb. “Is it working?”

 “Is it working?”

 “Do you want me to tell you the truth?”

 “Do you want me to tell you the truth?” you say. Your mouth is dry, but you force a smile and swat his hand away playfully. “No.”

 He pouts at you. “I’ll try harder then.”

 The waitress comes out of the backdoor with a tray of milkshakes and fries. The milkshakes are in those nice, tall glasses with the pretty straws, just like your first date. Before the waitress can set the tray down in front of you, she spasms – the tray clatters onto the counter, but the milkshakes fall onto the floor with a loud crash and make a puddle of frothy liquid under her.

 “Oh no!” the waitress shouts. “Oh no! Oh –”

 John frowns and stands up, craning his neck to look at the mess. “Are you alright? I can help, if you’d like –”

 The waitress is still shouting, frozen in place. “Oh no! No! Oh no! How may I – may I -!”

 John raises his arm to shield you – her cries sound mechanical, stilted, and when you listen closely you can hear the faint whine of microphone feedback. She sounds like a robot – a real one, hiding complex mechanical circuitry? Maybe a perception filter, so she’s something else entirely. Or –

 The waitress, still stuck in place, repeated cries coming out of a mouth that isn’t moving, flickers.

 You lock eyes with John. He stares at you for a moment and the far-away look in his eyes fades away – then, slowly, he nods, and lowers his arm. He reaches for the tray on the counter, and throws it to you –

 And with all your strength, you fling the tray at the waitress. She lets out a shrill noise before disappearing completely, blinking out of existence like she was never there. The spilt milkshakes are gone too.

 “Good one,” the Doctor pants.

 You nod at him. “Yeah, yeah I think so.”

 Pretty bad first date, huh? Your head still feels fuzzy, even though you’ve already pulls yourself out of the woods – you remember the same diner, the same conversation, different scenarios. One where the waitress didn’t malfunction, one where you went home, one where you kissed on the way back… You shudder and suck in a breath through your teeth, your brain bursting at the seams.

 “I get it,” you mutter, “I get the wiping. There’s too much to think about.”

 The Doctor stays silent, occasionally glancing up the ceiling. Then his gaze travels to the windows. When you follow it, you see there’s nothing outside anymore. Just a black void for miles and miles, like a video game with missing textures.

 “Is that why we’re not moving?”

 “Argh,” the Doctor groans, pushing his hair out of his eyes, “I can’t figure it out! They must have put a dampener on my brain, making me think all those things about you -”

 Your heart twists painfully. Right. Implanted memories.

 The Doctor presses his hands to his eyes, groaning – and then he stops, looking at you in surprise. “But you – do you have one?”

 “I wouldn’t know, I don’t have a brain like yours,” you say. “What do you mean a dampener?” The Doctor furrows his brows in thought.

 “Right,” he says quickly. “Human brain. Dampeners don’t take away memories, they store them somewhere else, or they usually cover them up. Like wallpaper. But I need to check if you have one – that could explain everything.” He frowns and peers into your eyes – and this isn’t you thinking like he’s your husband, this is all you, because you think his eyes are still beautiful. He reaches out, his fingertips hovering just at your temple. “May I?”

 “May I… what?”

 “Telepathic link,” the Doctor explains, “Time Lord thing. I just have to check whether they’ve put a dampener on you too. It could explain where we are, and if this is a simulation or not.”

 Worry rises from your stomach to your heart. Your traitorous, traitorous heart. The Doctor seems to notice, and pulls his hand away, trying to reassure you with a smile. You hate to admit that it works, because it always works when it’s him. “Trust me. Don’t worry, I won’t go looking where I shouldn’t.”

 Promise? You take in a deep breath and nod. “I trust you.”

 It’s the truth, and it’ll always be the truth.

 “Okay.” The Doctor presses his fingertips to your temple, and closes his eyes. You close your eyes too at the sudden wave of calm that washes over you. “Good.”

 The feeling of the Doctor reaching into your brain isn’t painful. Instead, it feels curious – and it feels like a hug. Warm and safe and comforting, just like he is at the best times. It’s like a light squeeze, and it passes as quickly as it arrived.

 When you open your eyes, the Doctor’s eyes are wide and confused.

 “You don’t have one,” he mutters. “You don’t have a dampener. Why would they put one on me and not you?”

 “H- hello? Is thing on? Can you hear me?”

 “Yes, we can hear you! Hello!” the Doctor calls out. “Who are you?”

 “I’m – I’m Marlene, you should recognize me? You’ve heard my voice before.”

 “Yes, we have,” you say. “Hello, Marlene.”

 Marlene squeaks. “Oh, that sounds weird from a human. Pretty average name for a Gargontian, I know, well I didn’t pick it so -”

 The Doctor perks up, all of his previous seriousness disappearing. He claps his hands together and grins. How does he do that, flip from one side to the other in the blink of an eye? “A Gargontian? We’ve been to your planet! Incredible technology, all invented in such a short time span.”

 “We really enjoyed the visit,” you add helpfully.

 “Oh, thank you,” Marlene says, sounding a little more confident. She coughs. “We’re very proud of our advancements.”

 “Marlene,” you start, laying a hand on the Doctor’s arm (you see him swallow in the corner of your eye and decide not to say anything about it), “can you help us get out?”

 “That’s the plan, hopefully. In, uh –” The sound of keyboard clacking – “About fifteen minutes, the Director will come up here and ask me to wipe you again. I’m already using so much power just doing this. The thing is, you’ve been here longer than any of our other test subjects ever, and all that memory wiping that we do is not good for you. Especially for those with less developed brains. No offence.”

 “None taken,” you say, scrunching up your face. Less developed brains. “What does it do? What happens?”

 “Oh, there’s no way to sugarcoat it! You die!” Marlene says, her tone light. You and the Doctor lock eyes, both of your eyes widened in fear. “Oh, don’t worry. You’re not going to die yet, but 11B, you are pretty close. This simulation can only run on one mind. Again, less developed brain than other races. No offence.”

 “Yeah, I’m starting to take offence,” you whisper to the Doctor.

 “It’s not your fault,” the Doctor whispers back. “So, Marlene, what’s the plan?”

 “The plan is to make it look like you’ve been wiped, but you actually haven’t.”

 The Doctor grins at you. “Brilliant, Marlene!”

 “Here’s the thing: you have to act like you’ve been wiped or you’ll -” Marlene goes quiet. You hear a shuddering breath before she starts talking again. “Nevermind. I can’t get you off the ship, but I think I can get you out of the sim. Just give me a day. You have to, as they say, keep the charade up.”

 “Keep the charade up,” you repeat. Marlene hums.

 “Yes, ma’am. You still have to act married. That should be easy though! I’ve looked at your files, you guys have the highest compatibility rate out of all the test subjects we have! It’s incredible, really.”

 “What does that mean?” you ask, dread creeping up on you.

 “Well, it means you’re a good couple! You’re really good together! Almost like you’re already in a relationship, am I right?”

 “NO!” you and the Doctor shout in unison.

 “Sorry, but that’s proof. Compatibility was at least a hundred for you two. Of course, we searched and also found someone named Rose -”

 “Right, that’s enough,” the Doctor says quickly. You know how he tries to hide his sadness, but his eyes are just too expressive. They betray him everytime he wants to keep something hidden. Rose Tyler, you recall. You can’t help but feel bad, and then a little jealous, and then guilty for feeling jealous.

 “Anyway, I’ll just –” Marlene shouts something that you’re sure is a swear in her language. “Be quiet!”

 “MARLENE!”

 “Yes, ma’am!”

 “What are you doing? Are you messing with them? You know I told you to create the –“

 “Yes, ma’am, I am!” Marlene stutters, all of her previous confidence gone. Poor girl. “just waiting for the reset call.”

 “Do it,” the other voice growls. The voice grows deeper, and monstrous. “Fifty times, fifty resets. If they fail the next one, I kill them both.”

 Fifty resets? The question is unspoken. You reach out for the Doctor without looking, and he grabs your hand tightly.

 “Ma’am, the prize – I mean, yes, ma’am. Of course.”

 “If they don’t last a day tomorrow, they’re as good as dead. Understood?”

 “Completely, ma’am.”

 The Doctor tips forward, and you catch him – he leans against you heavily, his eyes fluttering shut as he falls boneless against you. His head drops into the crook of your shoulder, just like in the morning. Your face burns at the realization.

 “Never dropped off like this before,” he mumbles, melting into your touch, and you fall to the floor under his weight.

 “I’m trying to make this as gentle as I can,” Marlene says softly. “I’m sorry for this.”

 You start to feel hazy, and you fall asleep on the floor of a diner in nowhere with the Doctor in your arms.

...

Tag list: @starlingelliot​ (<3)

[guardianofrivendell]

PERFECT SECRETS - CHAPTER 3

Legolas x OC

Requested: Nope

Summary:  Mira. A short and unusual name for a short and unusual Elf. After an audience with Galadriel goes sideways, she leaves her birthplace Lóthlorien and the Elves for good.  That is until a certain Gandalf asks for a favor. Come along on her journey, as she reluctantly agrees to accompany Gandalf on the quest to destroy the One Ring.  She befriends every Fellowship member, except one. Legolas and Mira are water and fire from the very first moment they laid eyes on each other. Will this be an obstacle during the quest or is it going to make everything just a little more interesting?

Warnings: None, just men being men. 

Masterlist Perfect Secrets

THE COUNCIL OF ELROND

While Gandalf and Mira climbed the stairs, she asked him why he had summoned her. Gandalf wouldn’t say, only telling her to be patient and that everything would be cleared up at the ‘Council of Elrond’. 

When the pair reached the top of the stairs, they were welcomed by Lord Elrond.

The Council hadn’t begun yet, and Mira was a bit surprised to see more people than she expected to be at a secret meeting. A delegation of Elves, Dwarves, Men and one small Hobbit were seated in a circle, around a rock with a flattened surface. 

They were looking towards her and Gandalf. She could hear them mutter amongst themselves asking who the hooded lady was. She smirked confidently. Let them guess, she thought. They’ll never know. 

Elrond gestured to take a seat in the two remaining empty chairs, one next to the Hobbit and one between Legolas and the other Elves. Did Elrond suspect something?

Mira looked back at him, but he had already turned around to take a stand at the head of the circle. Gandalf took the seat next to the Halfling, whispering a few words into his ear. She hesitated for a few seconds, before walking around the outside of the circle to the wall of the building, feeling the eyes of everyone piercing her back. She turned around and leaned with her back against the wall, arms crossed, one foot over the other. 

It was her way to say she didn’t belong to the Elves nor Men, keeping the mystery alive. Plus she preferred to be in the background anyways. Gandalf nodded at Elrond, signaling that the Council could begin.

“Strangers from distant lands, friends and old. You have been summoned here to answer the threat of Mordor. Middle-Earth stands upon the brink of destruction. None can escape it, you will unite or you will fall. Each race is bound to its fate; this one doom. Bring forth the ring, Frodo,” Elrond asked the small Hobbit. Frodo stood up and carefully placed a small golden ring on the centered rock. 

“So it’s true,” one of the Men gasped, his eyes fixed on the ring. “In a dream, I saw the Eastern sky grow dark. But in the West a pale light lingered. A voice was crying: your doom is near at hand. Isildur’s Bane is found.” He was on his feet now, and got dangerously close to the ring. 

“Boromir!” Elrond warned him. He sat down at once. 

“Frodo, will you tell us how this ring came to you and the troubles you have faced already?” Gandalf asked the Hobbit. Everyone listened to his story, how he inherited the ring from Bilbo, that he had encountered Black Riders, fought against them and got stabbed by a Morgul Blade in the process. 

Mira had listened to him intently. It was remarkable how such a small being had endured so much in so little time, there was no doubt this was the One Ring. Hobbits never cease to amaze her.

The sky turned dark and ominous. Gandalf’s voice became deeper, there was a strange echo when he spoke. The moment he spoke the first words, Mira got a splitting headache. 

“Ash nazg durbatulûk, ash nazg gimbatul, ash nazg thrakatulûk agh burzum-ishi krimpatul” (One Ring to rule them all, One Ring to find them, One Ring to bring them all and in the darkness bind them)

Mira shook her head, trying to get rid of the headache. She didn’t want anyone to notice something was wrong, but she recognized the pained expressions from the other Elves. She was not the only one who felt it. 

As soon as Gandalf finished, the sky cleared and so did the headache.

Lord Elrond gasped, definitely not happy with Gandalf’s actions.

“Never before has any voice uttered the words of that tongue here in Imladris!”

“I do not ask your pardon, Master Elrond, for the Black Speech of Mordor may yet be heard in every corner of the West! The Ring is altogether evil!”

Well, he does have a point there, Mira thought to herself. Gandalf had been right, they were on the verge of war. If they had the One Ring, Sauron would do anything to get it back. 

“It is a gift. A gift from the foes of Mordor. Why not use this ring? Long has my father, the Steward of Gondor, kept the forces of Mordor at bay. By the blood of my people are your lands kept safe! Give Gondor the weapon of the enemy. Let us use it against him!” Boromir demanded. 

“You cannot wield it! None of us can. The One Ring answers to Sauron alone. It has no other master,” the ranger answered him. 

“And what would a ranger know of this matter?” Boromir sneered back. 

At this point, Legolas stood up from his chair. 

“This is no mere ranger. He is Aragorn, son of Arathorn. You owe him your allegiance.”

“This is Isildur’s heir?” Boromir asked, just as Mira thought the exact same thing.

“And heir to the throne of Gondor,” Legolas countered confidently. 

Mira would say it was more arrogant than confident but maybe she was a bit biased. 

“Havo dad, Legolas,” Aragorn said to him, trying to calm him down. (Sit down) Legolas obeyed, but kept a stern look on Boromir. Mira could tell the tension was building. It wouldn’t take much before they’d start killing each other. She hadn’t missed the angry glances between the Elves and Dwarves. 

“Gondor has no king. Gondor needs no king,” Boromir muttered angrily before taking a seat again. His attitude was starting to get on Mira’s nerves. What was it with men and their pride, always wanting to have the last word?

“Aragorn is right. We cannot use it,” Elrond intervened, trying to clear the tension. “You have only one choice. The Ring must be destroyed.”

“Then what are we waiting for?” One of the Dwarves jumped out of his seat and tried to destroy the Ring, shattering his axe in the process. 

Mira chuckled, noticing the stunned expression of the Dwarf upon seeing his ruined axe. She liked this one, he was straightforward and didn’t hesitate. 

“The Ring cannot be destroyed, Gimli, son of Gloín, by any craft that we here possess,” Elrond said to him. “The Ring was made in the fires of Mount Doom. Only there can it be unmade. It must be taken deep into Mordor and cast back into the fiery chasm of whence it came. One of you must do this.”

He looked around the circle, but there was no reaction. 

Boromir sighed heavily. “One does not simply walk into Mordor.” 

He continued warning everyone about the dangers Mordor held for anyone who dared to cross the Black Gates. Legolas interrupted him, clearly fed up with the man of Gondor. 

“Have you heard nothing of what Lord Elrond has said? The Ring must be destroyed!”

“Well yes, Elf Boy, we all heard that,” Mira muttered silently, rolling her eyes. She knew he would be the only one to hear it. Legolas’ head snapped in her direction, his eyes shooting daggers at her. Before he could say something, Gimli interrupted.

“And I suppose you think you’re the one to do it?” he shouted angrily at Legolas. “I will be dead before I see the ring in the hands of an Elf!”

Mira had to admit that was taking it a bit too far. She might be hiding the fact that she was an Elf, but that didn’t mean she wasn’t proud of being one. The others took this as their cue to start arguing. Even Gandalf and Elrond took part in the fight, which surprised her. She had taken a few steps away from the wall, so she was ready to intervene if necessary. 

The only one who wasn’t participating was Frodo, he was still in his chair seemingly deep in thought. Mira also stayed out of the argument, and kept an eye on everyone in the room. 

All of a sudden Frodo’s eyes focused again and he said, “I will take it!”

Nobody except Gandalf and Mira had heard him. Gandalf closed his eyes in defeat, clearly not happy with the Hobbit’s suggestion.

“I will take the Ring to Mordor,” Frodo repeated, finally getting everyone’s attention. His expression changed once he noticed everyone staring at him, almost looking shy. “Though I do not know the way.”

Gandalf kneeled in front of him, placing his hand on his shoulder. 

“I will help you bear this burden, Frodo Baggins, as long as it is yours to bear.”

Frodo looked very grateful. He should be, Mira thought, it was a very dangerous task and he should accept all the help he could get. She did think it was very brave of him to volunteer. Stupid too. But brave nonetheless. 

In the next few minutes, Aragorn, Legolas, Gimli and Boromir had offered their help as well. Mira couldn’t help but notice Legolas’ smirk when he looked at her. Was he challenging her? 

“Oi! Mister Frodo is not going anywhere without me!” Another Hobbit was coming out of the bushes, rushing towards the group. 

Elrond looked sternly at him, but Mira could see a hint of a smile. 

“No indeed, it is hardly possible to separate you even when he is summoned to a secret council and you are not.”

Mira crossed her arms again, and leaned back against the wall behind her. The group standing before Elrond was a sight to behold. Wizards, Men, Elves, Dwarves and Hobbits, every race was represented. Who would have thought this to be possible?

“Seven companions-”, Elrond started but was interrupted by yet another pair of Hobbits who came running from behind the pillars in the back. 

“Wait! We are coming too!” They rushed to Frodo’s side. Mira smiled, she was certain these Hobbits would give Gandalf a hard, but interesting time during their quest. 

“You’d have to send us home tied up in a sack to stop us!” one of them said proudly, crossing his arms.

The blond Hobbit wanted to say something smart too, and added, “Anyway, you need people of intelligence on this sort of mission, quest… thing.”

“Well, that rules you out, Pip,” his friend was quick to answer. Mira snorted. 

Elrond opened his arms. “Nine companions-”

“Lord Elrond, if you please,” Gandalf interrupted him. Mira half expected Elrond to drop his arms at his side and just give up speaking altogether, but his expression didn’t even falter. Impressive.

“I do believe there is someone else who would be wise to join us,” Gandalf spoke, looking directly at Mira. 

Mira’s eyes widened. No, he wouldn’t, would he? She even looked behind her, forgetting she was leaning against a wall, to check if there was a chance he didn’t mean her. 

“Mira, my dear. Don’t keep us waiting,” he said warmly. 

She froze, frantically trying to think of an excuse, any excuse not to join them. 

“A woman?” Boromir laughed. “You can’t be serious! Does she even know how to fight?”

That comment made something stir within her. Wasn’t it enough that Legolas had been acting like he did towards her, and now another man had to doubt her skills?

In less than a split second she had drawn her two knives from her boots and threw them towards Boromir, effectively pinning his cape to the railing of the balcony behind him, without even scratching Legolas and the Hobbits, who were all standing in very close proximity. It did not only show her skills with a knife, but her strength as well since the railing was made out of stone. 

“I can assure you, Boromir, that Mira knows exactly how to defend herself. Best not to get on her bad side,” Gandalf chuckled. Mira stepped towards Boromir and pulled her knives out of the railing, keeping her eyes fixed on Legolas’ the whole time, as if to say “Did you see that?”.

Elrond cleared his throat, opening his arms for the third time. Before he started, he looked at Gandalf, who nodded at him. 

“Ten companions… so be it! You shall be known as the Fellowship of the Ring!”

A/N: I have a taglist now! Send me an ask if you want to be added!

Taglist Perfect Secrets: @ayo-cowbelly​

[chillassimagines]

Let Me Go - Lucien Castle Oneshot

(REQUESTED)

“What are we waiting for? We must attack.” Lucien questioned Klaus with urgency. Klaus shook his head and downed his glass of bourbon.

“Not yet. Freya is still recovering. We need her at her full potential and I won’t settle for anything less, Lucien.” Your lover clenches his fists and walks over to you.

“Then we shall be leaving, Y/N.” He spoke with a tense jaw. You immediately brought your hand up to touch it in hopes of calming him. It seemed to calm him by a fracture. He didn’t like being taken by surprise, he was a control freak.

“Ease your mind, Lucien. We’re better off listening...for once.” You reminded him with a small knowing smile. He sighed and wrapped his arms around you.

“I’ll ease my mind when there are no threats.” You chuckled at his statement.

“So never?” He offered you a tight smile and nodded. You took his hand in yours and turned to leave.

“Out of the way!” You felt yourself and Lucien being pushed to the ground. You looked up to see Klaus holding an arrow in mid flight. “Like you always say, Lucien...” His face grew with anger as he narrowed his eyes. “No time like the present.” Being in an underground facility on neutral grounds didn’t present much protection in the moment.

You had gone to this underground facility with the Mikaelson clan to check on Freya after she had recently been ambushed by the rouge vampires and witches conspiring against the Originals. The rouges wanted equal power, and the Originals prevented that. Lucien pulled you up with him and gripped your shoulders.

“Go find Elijah, send him here, but do not follow him. You’ll be safer at Freya’s bedside. If they find you there she will protect you.” He swiftly turned around and headed towards danger. You mimicked his movements in the opposite direction to find Elijah. You descended deeper into the facility towards where Freya was being kept and ran into Elijah on the way.

“The rouges, they’re here, Elijah!” You spoke nearly out of breath.

“Of course we are.” A female from behind Elijah spoke. You recognized her as one of the witches whom was helping Freya. Elijah turned around silently and began to stalk towards her, but she threw her hands up, and said something under her breath. Elijah started choking and he reached his hands up to his face. His hands came back bloody. You ran to him and his eyes were rolled into the back of his head as his nose was bleeding.

“Stop it!” You ran towards the witch, but she simply flicked her hands and you were sent flying into the wall. You cried out in pain at the intense pain flooding into your skull. Your misfortune gave Elijah the upper hand. He sped towards the witch and ripped her head off of her shoulders. He helped you up and brought out a handkerchief for you to hold to your head.

“Y/N, you need to get Freya and get her up there. There isn’t much time.” He then sped away with his vampiric powers. You groaned as you held your handkerchief against the wound while leaning against the wall as you swayed towards Freya’s recovery room. You collapsed to your knees in the doorway, making Freya shoot up from her bed.

“Freya, we have to, to help...them.” You mumbled softly, grasping at anything to help you to your feet again. Freya looked torn between leaving you and helping you.

“Y/N, I’m going to heal you, but we have to do it while walking up, or we won’t make it in time.” You nodded and put your arm over her shoulders and began walking at a decent pace while Freya was murmuring incantations. You felt a stabbing pain in your head as she helped you walk up the stairs where you could hear the violence happening. She damn near dragged you to a corner and set you down.

“F-Freya.” You protested, your mind was a bit clearer and the pain wasn’t as intense, but you knew you weren’t fully healed.

“Just stay back, Y/N.” Freya looked at you with what seemed to be remorse. She turned away and launched herself into combat. Your eyes scanned the room to find Lucien impaling someone with part of a banister. Unfortunately, he locked eyes with you and all you could see was his disappointment. He began pounding towards you when a vampire catapulted himself on top of Lucien. You rose up with a groan, your vision felt a little hazy, but you couldn’t just give up on Lucien. A second vampire began beating on him as well as the other held him down.

“Fuck off!” You screamed as you grabbed the previously discarded bloody banister and stabbed it through the assaulting vampire. He fell to the side but you were grabbed from behind.

“Such a shame that you’re human, you might’ve had a chance.” The mystery person gripped your skull making you cry out in pain and slammed your head into the ground.

-

“She’s going to wake up, Lucien.”

“When, Rebekah? And where the bloody hell were you when your sister sacrificed her, huh?!” Silence followed the outburst which your head was grateful for. You opened your eyes to a suprisingly dim room. You tried moving your head from facing the ceiling to the side but that action sent knives into your face and neck.

“Agh!” You cried out miserably and covered your throbbing face with your hands.

“Y/N!” You heard Lucien’s voice and his presence as he rushed to your side. He gingerly lifted your hands from your face and he looked into your eyes.

“Hey.” You whispered, looking up at the broken man. His eyes were bloodshot, his face was splotchy, his hair was a mess, and his shirt had blood on it.

“Why? Why did you do that?” He sounded like he was pleading with you, but he was in pain. You lifted your hand to touch his jaw, however it remained stiff.

“I was, I was helping you.” You remembered. He aggressively pulled away from you with disgust on his face.

“Helping me?! You almost died! You are like a fragile flower, Y/N. Compared to you I’m steel amour! You can’t go around playing superhero! You weren’t even supposed to come back up with Freya.” Lucien yelled. You slowly sat up and faced your body towards him without moving your neck.

“She had to come back up and I wasn’t going to stay down there alone. I helped Elijah when I was down there just like I helped you.” Lucien pulled the bloodied handkerchief out of his pocket.

“Yeah, I noticed, by you getting body slammed into a wall. Lot of fucking saving that is.” He tossed it onto the bedside table and the gesture made you angry.

“I saved your life!” You yelled, trying to ignore the headache that settled in afterwards.

“You can’t save anyone if you’re already dead, Y/N! And you’ve clearly ruled out the vampire offer I gave you!” He shouted and gestured to your bruised body.

“I can’t do that, Lucien! I couldn’t hurt others to live...” Your eyes began watering as you remembered all the things you’d miss out on. You’d miss kids, grandkids, growing old, and thriving in a community. You knew that being with Lucien would require a male donor for children, but you didn’t care if that’s what it took.

“I can’t lose you, do you understand?” Lucien knelt next to the bed and gripped your hands tightly. “You think you are invincible and what happens if next time your head is torn off in front of me? I can’t live forever with you dead.” You bit your lip and closed your eyes, letting a tear roll down your cheek.

“Well, maybe...maybe you need to live without me, now. Not dead, still me...not with you.” Silence followed. A long, long silence. You opened your eyes and Lucien seemed to be waiting for you to open them as he was staring at you.

“You must’ve hit your head very hard to come up with that, Y/N.” He spoke in a deadly serious tone. You shifted your eyes to the wall as more tears flooded your vision. Maybe it was your imagination, but your chest began to throb in pain.

“Lucien...you have to.”

“I have to what?”

“Let me go.”

[keiziahknight1886]

Change

[Change (A Connor x Reader story based on Detroit: Become Human)]

Chapter Four

Chapter Five

xX0Xx NOV 6TH, 2038 PM 07:51:04

SOFTWARE INSTABILITY▲

Connor opened his eyes to the familiar sight of the zen garden he would meet Amanda in to brief and debrief or to share information about the latest android related cases he handles. This time around, it was raining.

In his hand was a black umbrella which made him remember that it was similar to the umbrella he had held for Y/n yesterday morning. He wondered to himself why his mind had drifted to that memory but ignored it as he looked for Amanda.

He easily spots her and greets her. She offers a walk with him and he readily opens the umbrella for her, she begins with a comment about the deviant they had capture and Connor was sure to include that Y/n had actually been the one to capture it and not him.

"Ah, yes. Detective Y/n Anderson, the Lieutenant's daughter... I heard that she had taken over all android related cases. How is your relationship with the Detective?"

Connor thought back to Y/n and remembered her overall friendly personality towards him, she wasn't like her father who had clearly shown dislike for him in the get-go. She was definitely an interesting person and was talented in her work. Their relationship seemed to keep getting better the more time they spent with each other.

"She is definitely friendlier and much more professional than the Lieutenant. She's also very talented and skilled, working with her had produced much more desirable results."

Amanda had stopped walking and looked at Connor for a bit; she gave him a warning. She was adamant that the problem be solved as soon as it can and Connor gave her his word that he would definitely solve the case.

"I will solve this investigation, Amanda. With the Detective with me, I assure you that the success rate is higher. I won't disappoint you."

"You seem to think very highly of her... A new case just came in. Find Detective Anderson and investigate it."

Amanda walked away and Connor was left to mull over her words, of course, he would think highly of Y/n, she was a remarkable detective and was just as invested in the investigation as he was. He disregarded all other thoughts and tried to get in contact with the Detective.

-------

"Alright, Em. You be a good girl until your mom gets home okay?"

"Okay! Thanks for the ice cream, N/n!"

Emily gave Y/n a hug before running towards the front door of her home holding the ice cream she was half done with, the android of their family was already there waiting and met her with a hug. Y/n smiled before going back to her car and driving to the grocery store since it was still early.

She wasn't lucky enough to have a peaceful grocery run as a fight had begun in the parking lot of the grocery store and she had to break it up. The men involved made fun of her at first but soon regretted it as all of them soon got either thrown or pepper-sprayed. She requested for them to be transferred and detained before she left and placed her groceries inside the car.

After finally finishing it up, she saw that there had been multiple calls she hadn't answered from an unknown number. When she had played the voicemail from the number, it was from Connor informing her of a new case that had just come in. She called him back and it didn't even finish ringing for him to pick up.

"Y/n."

"Hey, Con. Sorry about the missed calls, had to go grocery shopping and break up a fight. You know, your usual Saturday night."

"Are you alright?"

Y/n smirked at the tone of worry in his voice and wondered how CyberLife could perfectly simulate emotions of worry in Connor's voice. That or, he could be genuinely worried which isn't really possible.

"Yeah, gave them a pretty good fight but it took some time. I'm just going to head home to drop the groceries off and then I'll meet you at the crime scene."

"Actually, I couldn't contact you so, I came to see if you were home. I'm headed there now."

"I'll meet you there, then."

She dropped the call and proceeds to drive home. When she opened the door, Sumo had greeted her with a tiny bark and nuzzled himself on her leg. She then noticed Connor who seemed to be examining something on the floor before standing up to look at her.

Connor saw Y/n carrying many bags of groceries and went over to take some of it from her.

"Why do you carry all of the bags at once?" He asks as he helped her with the bags.

"To show that I'm superior." She winked at him and they both walked over to the kitchen.

There were a lot of things she noticed once she entered the kitchen area. There was junk food all over the table along with a few boxes of pizza and some bottles of soda. The thing that mostly bothered her was the picture of her brother on the table, the toppled over chair, the gun on the floor, and the broken window.

"CyberLife will pay for the damages of the window." Connor spoke up as he saw Y/n's gaze land on the broken window.

"So, it was you?" She set down the groceries on the floor and stared at the gun.

Y/n notices the bottle of alcohol on the floor next to the gun and she could feel sadness and anger grow in her. Connor saw her body tense and saw how she clenched her fists tightly.

She crouches down to get the gun to examine it and found that there was only one bullet inside; it was ready to be shot out.

"Did he tell you what he was doing?.." Y/n asked lowly and Connor knew that although he could lie it would be best to tell the truth.

"He said he was playing Russian roulette. The next shot would have killed him."

"Connor! What the f**k were you thinking when you-"

Hank, still wearing his stained home clothes, stopped ranting midway when he saw Y/n in the kitchen holding his revolver. Connor could see Y/n's eyes gloss over with tears and she just silently looked at her father with anger and sadness in her eyes.

"Y/n, let me explain-"

"No, I don't want to hear it."

Y/n slammed the gun on the table and began walking out.

"Hey! Where are you going?!" Hank tried to follow after her but he was stopped midway by a headache.

"Connor, let's go." Y/n called Connor who couldn't help but watch their exchange.

"Y/n! Wait!" Hank yelled out again and Y/n's head snapped back towards him.

"Why should I?! F**king hell, you always do this!"

"Y/n- agh! Fine! If you're not gonna listen, I'm coming with you!"

"What?" She asked and glared at him.

"Wherever you're going I'm going with you." Hank replies as he steadies himself on a wall.

"No, I'm going to an investigation. You're drunk." She stated and opened the door. "Come on, Connor. Let's go."

Y/n walked out of the door leaving Connor and Hank, who was still trying to process what had just happened.

When Connor was about to walk out, Hank grabbed him by the arm to stop him.

"Don't you dare f**kin' leave without me, that's an order."

Connor knew that, since Y/n was now handling all android related cases, her orders were of higher priority and, even though Hank was a lieutenant, he had the option to disobey the older man and say that he was in no state to give out orders.

Still, seeing as how affected Y/n was with what she saw and how desperate Hank was to make amends, he decided to follow instead of ignore.

"I'll tell Y/n then."

He walked out of the house and found Y/n already in the car, she was gripping her steering wheel with so much force that her knuckles had turned white. He opened the door to her car and sat on the front passenger seat; he stayed silent for a bit to choose his words carefully.

"The Lieutenant ordered me not to leave without him."

"Typical."

Connor saw how horrible Y/n's mood was and something in him wanted to help her feel better. He had the option of asking about Hank's problem, brief her about the new case, try his best to comfort her or ignore it and just walk out.

He chose to try his best to comfort her. He was programmed to know how to be patient or understanding but something about this felt different and he didn't know why.

"I saw a photo of your brother on the table. I'm very sorry for your loss."

She kept her stare in front of her and she didn't seem to want to pay attention to him or talk about it so he decided to stop prying there. Still, he wanted to say something that would make her feel somewhat better.

"I know it's not much but... if you need me, I'm here."

Y/n looked at Connor and he saw that she was trying to read him, after a few seconds of eye contact she turned away and sighed.

"Well, time to head out." She started the car but Connor spoke up to stop her.

"What about the Lieutenant?"

"I don't know... What about him?.."

Connor had to choose between staying with Y/n and leaving or waiting for Hank. It was somewhat of a though choice but Hank gave him an order and he felt that if Hank were there he would try his best to reconcile with Y/n which would make her happy.

"I'm sorry, Y/n. The Lieutenant gave me an order."

"If I ordered you to stay, would you do it?"

Their orders conflicted and he had to choose which one was the priority; Y/n didn't give him a chance though.

"Get out."

Y/N▼

Connor looked at Y/n but she refused to face him. He had no choice but to exit the car and stand in the rain as Y/n left the area. He stood there for a moment and although he knew Y/n had access to the address in the report he still sent it to her number.

xX0Xx

Chapter Six

[yukiwrites]

Edelgard, Comforted

Thanks for the support once again, @xpegasusuniverse! It was really fun to work on this unlikely duo!

This is a Support Chain C-A between Raphael and Edelgard!

Commission info HERE and HERE!

______________________________

C SUPPORT

Raphael: Huff! *thud* There ya go! A pile of new books, special delivery from Raphael!

Man: Thank you so much for carrying that mountain of books from the old storeroom, Raphael. You did it in one trip, too! I never saw someone carry so many books at once.

Raphael: Haha, no need to thank me! My muscles love to help folks with heavy lifting!

Man: W-well then, thank you, Raphael’s, uh, muscles. I’ll need to file these now, if you’ll excuse me…

Raphael: Sure! My pleasure!

Raphael: Man, I’m really not used to coming here like I should… I can already hear the Professor telling me to study… or my classmates… Maybe I could look for something- huh? Is that Edelgard over there?

Edelgard, on her own: It seems I chose the worst time to browse the library. No empty ladders in sight.

Raphael: Hey there, Edelgard! You look troubled; are the books giving you a headache too?

Edelgard: Ah, Raphael, hello. I suppose you could say that. As you can see, all ladders are either occupied by other students or out of service and the book I seek is quite out of my reach. I do not think even Hubert would be able to get it if he were here...

Raphael: Oh, book searching? I just helped the library guy here with that! Leave it to me! Is that the one with the red cover you wanted?

Edelgard: Hm, if you would not mind to aid me, then I will accept the help. Yes, it is the one with the red cover. Perhaps if I could read the title of the others beside it, I would ask for more, however, as it stands...

Raphael: Hrrrmmmm…!! Hrrrrm! Oh, wow, this is really high! Even my feet muscles can’t make me reach ‘em!

Edelgard: So he wasn’t listening to me. Oh well.

Edelgard: Raphael? Thank you for offering to help, I will simply return at a quieter time to-

Raphael: No no, wait, I got it! You can just sit on my shoulders!

Edelgard: What are you imply- wai- unhand me- agh!

Raphael: You’re as light as you look, Edelgard! You should eat more if you wanna grow up big like Big Bro Raphael!

Edelgard: I’ll- thank you if-agh! Keep steady, I am losing my balance-

Raphael: Whoa, there, I gotcha, Edelgard! Take your time!

Edelgard: I-I have gotten the books; let me down this instant, please.

Raphael: Alleyoop, there you go! That wasn’t so bad, was it? And you got more than one, too!

Edelgard, blushing: I do not know if I should be thankful that everyone seems to be minding their own business or not.

Edelgard: Anyway, I will not let a favor go without a word of thanks. So I thank you for your assistance, Raphael. As rough and sudden as it may have been.

Raphael: You’re welcome! You can always ask Big Bro Raph for help!

Edelgard: ...

Raphael: Huh? Did I say something wrong? Wait! I get it! I did it again, didn’t I? Sorry I just put you on my shoulders like that! It was a force of habit from trying to help my hard-headed little sis!

Edelgard: I suppose you did not notice you were also patting my head just now?

Raphael: Whoa, was I? I guess you remind me of my little sis more than I thought! Sorry about that.

Edelgard: …

Edelgard: It was… fine. It was a refreshing feeling to be treated like a little sister again after so long. Thank you once again for your help, Raphael. Now I need to check these out, if you’ll excuse me.

Raphael: Sure, no prob! You can always rely on Big Bro Ralph, though, alright? Me ‘n’ my muscles will be there to help anytime you need!

Raphael leaves.

Edelgard: Big brother, huh…

B SUPPORT

Raphael: I’m glad Ms. Cook is such a nice lady, she always leaves something on top of the kitchen table for me! Yum, that was a great midnight snack, so now I can sleep like a log to get even stronger tomorrow!

Raphael: Huh? Is that a person over there? Who’s wandering ‘round the pond at this hour? Maybe they’re tryna fish? But don’t fish sleep, too? I don’t think they’d bite… Unless they’re looking for a midnight snack like me, haha!

Edelgard, on her own: ....

Raphael: Hey, it’s Edelgard!

Raphael approaches.

Raphael: Edelgard! What’re you doing up so late? Wait, you look pale, even more than usual! Is that the moonlight or did you eat something bad and got a stomach ache?

Edelgard: Hello there again, Raphael. *sighs* It would have been better if it were a simple stomach ache. As it stands, it was just a bad dream.

Raphael: Oh, alright. So you can’t sleep, huh?

Edelgard: To simplify it, yes.

Raphael: That sucks. I hate it when I can’t sleep.

Raphael: You know what? Take this and this here too. Ms. Cook always leaves me food so I got some to eat on my way back to my room, too.

Edelgard: Are these… cupcakes? As I recall, the dining hall is closed after curfew.

Raphael: Yeah! You like sweets, right? I sometimes see you smiling all to yourself when we’re havin’ sweets week!

Edelgard: Do I now…? How discomposing. And here I thought I kept my emotions in check.

Raphael: It’s fine! I’m sure only people who eat lots like me noticed! Anyway, I always get a real good sleep after eating, so you should eat those and head straight to bed!

Edelgard, smiling: Thank you, Raphael. It seems you are turning out to be most helpful to me as of late.

Raphael: Aw, it’s no problem! Like I said, you can always rely on Big Bro Ralph!

Raphael: I know! If you don’t wanna go all the way back upstairs, why not just crash in my room? You can keep the bed and I’ll sleep on the floor. With how delicious Ms. Cook’s midnight snacks are, I’m sure we’ll be out real soon.

Edelgard: To your… room?

Raphael: Yeah, it’s really over there, I think if you twitch your head a lil’ you can see it from here! I love sleeping so close to the dining hall!

Raphael: Besides, whenever my little sis had a nightmare, she’d come sleep in my room and she’d always have the biggest of smiles the next day! She said I ‘attract good dreams’ or something. She dreamed of eating a cloud one night after having a nightmare so scary she had spent a long time crying! I wish I had dreamed of eating a cloud… I wonder what they taste like.

Edelgard, smiling: I assume they must be sweet. Though perhaps not as much as these cupcakes.

Edelgard: …

Edelgard: If you would not mind, Raphael, I would accept your invitation. It would be a wonderful change of pace to dream of sweets.

Raphael: Alright! Then let’s roll, ‘cause I’m already getting sleepy and I still got some food left to finish!

B+ SUPPORT

Edelgard: You can do it if you want to, Raphael. I must admit I am impressed.

Raphael: You think so? I’m surprised I got that answer right, too! The Professor really is good at what they’re doing if even doing brain stuff is working out for me!

Edelgard: The Professor does have credit for having a comprehensible teaching style, but it is your merit for getting the right answer. Do not undermine your achievements, no matter how small they may seem at the moment.

Raphael: You know what, you’re right! This time I flexed my brain and it worked! Go, brain!

Edelgard, smiling: …

Raphael: I wonder if it would be like this if my little sis were here, too. She’s always been the smart one, you know? She’d be grilling me out along with everyone else, but I think she’d help me just like you are, Edelgard.

Edelgard: Do I remind you of your little sister so much? I noticed she is basically all you talk about after food and training.

Raphael: Hmm, maybe you don’t look so much alike ‘cause you’re more composed, you know? Guess it’s ‘cause you’re a princess and all. But if you weren’t, I think you two’d be like two peas in a pod!

Edelgard: Indeed. I must keep my composure at all times so I can shoulder all that I am meant to have in the future.

Edelgard: And yet, I feel a strange compulsion to allow myself to be vulnerable whenever we are together. I wonder if it is because of your familiarity.

Raphael: Well, I’m nothing if not approachable! And I told you ‘fore, didn’t I? You can rely on me like I’m your Big Brother! I know I wouldn’t mind having another little sis if she were anythin’ like you.

Edelgard: You regard me as family…? Truly?

Raphael: Well, yeah! I’m not asking you to do the same, but if you wanna, I’ll be your Big Bro for the day. Heck, for as long as you need me!

Edelgard: That is… something I have never heard someone say to me before, Raphael. I cannot put it to words on how I feel about this, other than that I DO want to take you up on your offer.

Raphael: Knock yourself out! What can Big Bro Raph do for you today?

Edelgard: It is… Ah, it is rather hard to talk about, now that I actually want to.

Raphael: It’s okay, I know how to keep a secret! Honest. One time, my little sis broke our Mom’s favorite vase when she was realll little, but I told Mom I was the one who broke it ‘cause Maya was looking so sad about it all. They never found out!

Edelgard, smiling: I’m afraid that what I am about to disclose is not as ordinary as that. Can you truly swear to never say this to a soul? Promise on your life?

Raphael: Sounds serious, but don’t worry, Edelgard. I wouldn’t make anything to make my little sis look sad. I promise I won’t tell anyone!

Edelgard: I appreciate it, Raphael. In truth, this is about the nightmare that kept me up the other day, as well as its roots…

Raphael, nodding: Yeah. I’m listenin’.

Edelgard: I have, so often I have almost forgotten how it was to have a restful night of sleep, persistent nightmares that make me relive the past. A past of seeing my older and younger siblings beg for their lives while people cut open their flesh and insert things within their bodies. A past of a gagged me helplessly struggling to be set free of the tight chains that have never truly healed.

Raphael: Your wrists…! Is that why you’re always covered from head to toe?

Edelgard: Scars from a past that refuses to leave me; nightmares that drown out happy times I may have lived with my siblings. They were all full of hope and dreams, Raphael. And they were robbed of it all; robbed of their future by people who simply wanted more and more power.

Edelgard: So this Edelgard von Hresvelg was born, at the cost of my siblings’ lives and my memories of happier times. The only one who remained to change this rotten world, to-

Raphael: Hey, it’s alright. You don’t need to go on while you’re crying like this. Come here.

Edelgard: Crying…? I am? I thought I was beyond that by now; that my tears have all dried.

Raphael: You’re gonna be alright, Edelgard. I can’t do anything to change the past, but I’m gonna get stronger than anyone else and I’m gonna be right there to protect you in place of your brothers who couldn’t.

Edelgard: T-thank you, Raphael, for your kindness. And your warmth.

Raphael: No need to thank me, little sis. These arms were made for huggin’!

Edelgard, smiling: Indeed…

A SUPPORT

Raphael: Hngh… Oomph… Hhngh… oomph! Just one more time…! Hngh… Oomph! There!

Crashing sound.

Raphael: Phew! Those logs sure were heavy, but now I can feel my muscles bulging! I’m gonna be even stronger now!

Edelgard, smiling: (Made for hugging. Right.)

Raphael: Oh! I didn’t see you there, Edelgard! Need something? I was just going to the dining hall. I’m starving, I gotta feed my muscles while they’re bulging. Wanna come with?

Edelgard: I was about to invite you to come with me, so yes.

Raphael: Really? Well, alright, then! Food tastes better when you’re eating with someone else, I always say!

Scene changes to the Dining Hall.

Raphael: *munch munch* You’re eating so little! Here, have a bit of mine! That’s why you didn’t grow at all during these years! C’mon, eat more!

Edelgard: I have had my fill, Raphael, thank you. Besides, I wanted to ask you something. But perhaps after you do not have food all over yourself.

Raphael: Huh? I’m only getting started! C’mon, ask anything you want! Today’s meat is so good I think I’ll just stay here and eat till it’s breakfast again!

Edelgard: Heh, very well then. I wanted to ask the reason why you allied yourself with the Empire even though that meant war against the Alliance where you were born. Oftentimes you’ve mentioned how much you enjoyed the village you grew up in.

Raphael: *snarfs* Hm? But that’s easy! My village is in the territory of a noble who’s on the side of the Empire, so we never really needed to attack it. ‘Sides, Claude’s doing a good job of holding everyone together in the Alliance, so I’m not worried ‘bout my little sis back there. And since I was worried ‘bout THIS little sis here, I had to come with to protect her!

Edelgard, surprised: ...

Raphael: *munch munch* You okay? You stopped eating.

Edelgard: I am… astonished. Are you truly keeping your promise from when we were students? And still seeing me as your little sister?

Raphael: Muh? Aren’t you? I said I’d always help you out as your brother, so if you don’t see me as a Big Bro anymore, that’s fine by me. I’ll still stay by your side to protect you, though! It’s kinda like my duty now, you know?

Edelgard: I… see. That is very kind of you, Raphael, as I remember I keep mentioning.

Raphael: *slurp* Nah, it’s fine. I really just want to help you however I can ‘cause I wanna protect your future. I can’t do anything ‘bout your past but I can always offer up my hugging muscles! See? Hrrk! They’re in top form today!

Edelgard, smiling: As always, I see.

Edelgard: I appreciate everything you do, Raphael. Once again, allow me to thank you.

Raphael: No problem! Now, you gonna eat that or not? Oh, I can ask Ms. Cook to bring out those cupcakes you like!

Edelgard: That would be lovely.

[galahadwilder]

Marinaked, Ch. 9

Enjoy my writing? Sponsor a fic chapter!

Marinaked Archive

AO3

*

Marinette woke up to a dry mouth, a swollen tongue, and a pounding headache.

"Blurgh," she mumbled, rolling over in her bed. Everything hurt, and everything felt weirdly sticky. "Tikki, can you—"

She didn't manage to finish her sentence. Instead, her throat seized shut on her words, her stomach attempting to leap straight into her mouth. "Urp!" She collapsed in on herself, squeezing her lips shut, and pressed her hand over her mouth to hold in her vomit.

She felt hexagon-patterned spandex press against her lips instead of fingerprinted skin, and her stomach flipped all over again. Oh, Tikki—had she fallen asleep as Ladybug? If her parents walked in on her...

She tore open her eyelids, blinked as the light speared through her eyes. "Gah!" she shrieked, covering her eyes with her arm. She rolled in bed, twisting herself in the sheets, turned towards the door—wait. This wasn't her room. Too large, too white, too bright.

"Agh!" a familiar voice yelped from next to the bed.

Ladybug's muscles all contracted at once, launching out of bed with a squeal and dragging all the sheets along for the ride. She squeezed her whole body, braced to hit the floor—but instead she felt herself slam into somebody's knee, tumbling bodily into the chair where the other girl had been sleeping and knocking them both onto the floor, and suddenly the Hero of Paris found herself pinned beneath the frozen—and steadily reddening—Paris Princess, tangled together in a confusing mess of sheets.

"Ch-Chloé?" Ladybug squeaked. Then all the blood rushed to her head at once with the pressure of Stoneheart's fist, and she groaned, squeezing her eyes shut as the light from the Hotel Grand Paris' floor-to-ceiling windows stabbed right through her eyes into the top of her skull all over again.

"I'm sorry!" Chloé gasped, and Ladybug felt a sharp spike of pain as Chloé's palm pressed hard into her shoulder; she was trying to pull away, only for her body to jerk taut against the sheets wrapped around her legs and other arm. "Just... just gimme a sec!"

"Take your time," Ladybug mumbled, turning her face away from the window and pressing it against the carpeting. Ah... sweet soft floor. Felt great against her crushing headache.

"Lemme just... hang on," Chloé said. "I, uh... Pollen? Help?"

The interior of the sheets flashed yellow. "Yes, My Queen!" a tiny voice said, and the sheets began to unravel from within.

Finally, after a minute of Chloé growing increasingly flustered, she pulling her hand loose. "Okay, I think I've got it."

Less than a minute later, the two of them were free of each other. Ladybug had elected to climb back into bed and bury her face into the pillow to block out the light. , while Chloé—who seemed to be steadfastly avoiding looking at her—was sitting on the ground, leaning against the foot of the bed.

"Did you seriously... sleep in the chair?" Ladybug mumbled. "Thought you had too much..." She raised her hand, spun it, trying to force the word through the cotton stuffing that seemed to be filling her skull. "...'Dignity' for that."

"Yeah, well," Chloé said, then huffed. "Someone had to watch your drunk ass to make sure you didn't, I dunno, jump out the window or something."

Ladybug groaned. "Akuma?"

Chloé snorted. "Nope," she said. "Far as I can tell, you got plastered all on your own."

Memories of last night suddenly flashed in Ladybug's head—she'd finally reached a decision to talk to Chat, to tell him everything, except then she'd pretty much gone into meltdown, and Tikki hadn't been able to talk her down. Somehow, in her panic, she'd come to the conclusion (which, she now realized with a squeeze of her sinuses, was definitely the panic talking) that since Drunkinette had been brave enough to tell Chat pretty much whatever she wanted, a little wine to sooth her nerves would be just right. And then somewhere along the line "a little" had turned into "a lot."

She was never trusting Alya's recommendation for "liquid courage" again.

"How bad was I?" Ladybug said, folding the pillow over onto her face. The walls probably wouldn't be able to judge her, since they didn't have brains, but she couldn't be too careful.

"You were fine!" Pollen said.

Chloé snorted. "Well, let's see," she said. "You showed up at patrol unannounced, basically molested Chat, spent most of the flirting with—with me—" Her voice suddenly broke. "And—and you somehow managed to completely forget my identity."

Ladybug stiffened. Oh, Tikki. Poor Chat. She could only imagine how uncomfortable he'd been—he'd stated, repeatedly, that he didn't think he could do what she did during Dark Cupid, not if she wasn't in her right mind. Getting exactly what he wanted in exactly the wrong way? It must've been hell.

"Flirting with Chloé" was another pretty good indicator that she had been utterly smashed. She'd never exactly made a secret of her attraction to girls—it wasn't particularly anyone's business, but she never really denied it—but she'd never found Chloé of all people particularly attractive, and she'd always... well, up until last night at least, she'd tried her best to avoid pushing Chloé out of the closet. Apparently, Ladydrunk either didn't need as much emotional attachment to get physically attracted to someone, or she'd somehow managed to get over the gratingness of Chloé's personality.

"Sorry," Ladybug mumbled. "I didn't... mean to make either of you uncomfortable."

"Well, you did," Chloé snapped. "What the hell was that even about?" She heard Chloé stand up. "You're the most responsible person I know, and you got wasted on a school night?"

Ladybug's muscles seized. "Oh my gods!" she shrieked, bolting out of bed and trying to ignore the excruciating rush of blood to her aching head. "It's Tuesday!" She tried to dash toward the window, only for her foot to slip on the sheets that were still piled on the floor. She barely managed to catch herself on Chloé's overnight chair.

"Relax! Yikes," Chloé said, checking her phone. "It's only... six in the morning. You're fine, you've got like an hour."

Ladybug frowned, grumbling. (Also, hour and 45 minutes, considering when she usually woke up, but Chloé didn't need to know that.)

"Seriously," Chloé said, "what the heck were you doing that needed to be that drunk?"

Ladybug closed her eyes, breathed in through her nose. "I... Um, over the weekend, I..." She pressed her palm agaist her forehead, sinking into the velvet of the chair. "I found out Chat's civilian identity is the boy I have a crush on."

Chloé stared at her.

"Oh my," Pollen said.

"Huh," Chloé added.

"Yyyyyep," Ladybug groaned.

Chloé pursed her lips, then nodded. "Pollen, go get Jean," she said. "We're gonna need a lot of coffee."

Marinaked Archive

Enjoy my writing? Buy me a coffee!

@rainforestgeek @36corndogs @paganinpurple @inkshila @viva-la-swen @probsjosh @rlv29 @dragon-of-the-sea @notquiteabutterfly @paganinpurple @masked-bixch @flashflashitsash @rainforestgeek @my-fuckin-problem @flightfoot @bubbleblower @assortedyeets @noirgrste @toukabunni33 @littletortillaboye @grace1852

[dancingkirby]

Day of Black Sun Ensemble: Azula I

Agh, IDK WTF I’m even going to title this thing!  Anyway, the basic idea is that this is, of course, about the events of the Day of Black Sun through the eyes of Azula and three OCs; the OCs are all paramours/victims of Ozai.

I really want to get all or at least most of it done before starting to post on ff/AO3, but there’s twelve chapters plus an epilogue and I want to make sure it’s okay!

Warnings for the entire fic: Some really heavy stuff here.  All OCs (and Azula, of course) are underage when Ozai first takes advantage of them, and there will be repeated references to rape and dubcon, although nothing very graphic.  

Warnings for this chapter: References to blood/menstruation.

PAST

Azula was eleven, and she was about to die of embarrassment.

It had seemed like just another routine sunrise firebending practice on the balcony.  But halfway through, she began to feel awful; her head and stomach and back were all killing her.  She managed to finish the whole routine by sheer force of will. Then, when she walked back into her room and shucked off her sweaty training gear, she saw the blood.

She didn’t freak out. She wasn’t stupid; she knew what this meant. It was just a bit earlier than she had expected.  Last school year, all of the fifth graders at the Royal Fire Academy For Girls had gone to the assembly hall to see a rather condescending presentation about puberty (no puppet show this time, thankfully).  “The average age of menarche is twelve and a half years,” they had said.  But she was eleven years and one month, and here it was anyway.  She’d reached every other milestone early, so she supposed it made sense.

Unfortunately, Shiza chose that moment to enter the room with Azula’s morning protein smoothie; her high-waisted gown failing to hide the fact that she was growing stout around the middle again.  She made a little squeak of surprise, hastily set down the smoothie in its habitual place on Azula’s night table, and scurried over asking a million questions. Are you okay?  Are you scared?  Do you know what’s going on?  Are you in any pain?  Do you need any help? Do you want me to get Dr. Huang?

“Go away.  And don’t tell anyone,” Azula growled.  Her lady-in-waiting’s breathy, high-pitched voice was only making her headache worse.  She was not in the least bit scared, and was perfectly capable of dealing with this herself.  Her school had handed out samples of the necessary equipment after the presentation last year.

Shiza obediently bowed and backed out of the room as quickly as etiquette allowed.

She seemed genuinely worried about you, a voice in Azula’s head whispered. She immediately wrestled that thought into submission.

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

Shiza may not have told anyone, but the laundresses were nosy gossips as always, so despite Azula’s efforts, the whole Caldera seemed to know by the next day.  Servants tiptoed around her like she was on her deathbed, and the severity of her symptoms and heavy flow had made it so she’d had to stay home from school for two days.  

Finally, a week later, it was all over.  Azula still felt somewhat weak from the blood loss, although she could never let anyone know that.  Father sent for her, as she knew he would.

“It happened earlier than I anticipated…but now you are a woman grown,” he told her.  “Now you can serve me in every way.”

Azula nodded and smiled, trying to will her heart to stop racing.

“Show me.  I’m ready,” she said.

The pain was excruciating, although she never let her smile leave her face, and then she hemorrhaged and had had to stay in bed again while she received iron infusions.  But it was worth it.

PRESENT

Today, it was the day of the eclipse, and she would be serving Father in a different way.

She stood still, arms spread out at her sides, as Shiza’s gentle but experienced hands buttoned buttons, fastened hooks and snaps, and cinched straps.  Her armor fell into place with a click, and the outfit was completed with the crucial sash to accentuate her trim waistline.  

Shiza brushed Azula’s hair, careful to not let it snag on the armor, and pulled it into a perfect topknot.   She applied exactly two drops of scent to each side of Azula’s neck.  Finally, after giving the cosmetic pots a quick stir to ensure that they weren’t separated or dried, she started on the makeup: foundation, powder to take away the shine, lipstick red enough to make one’s eyes hurt, and just a touch of blush so she didn’t look too pale.   For the finishing touch, she applied Azula’s eyeliner using the dull edge of a knife to make sure it was perfectly straight.  Azula had requested that she do it this way; other people may have quailed at a sharp object being so near her eyes, but not her.  

Her work done, Shiza backed away and bowed, awaiting Azula’s next command.  Long ago, Azula had come to accept that, despite how annoying she found Shiza, the diminutive young woman was her most competent lady-in-waiting. During important occasions such as this one, she was the only one whom Azula could rely upon completely to make her appearance flawless.

Normally, at this time of day her rooms were bustling with servants bringing in breakfast and preparing Azula’s morning bath and laying out articles of clothing and toiletries to make Shiza’s job easier.  Today, though, it was just the two of them, and things were eerily quiet.  

“Thank you,” Azula said, finally breaking the silence.  “You are dismissed.”

Shiza murmured her acknowledgement and bowed again.  She seemed nervous today.  Now that Azula was thinking about it, her lady-in-waiting had been acting oddly for some months now.  Did she think that Azula didn’t know about her repeated trips to the harbor for excursions on that boat of hers?

She would have to look into that…tomorrow.  Shiza would have to have a death wish to try anything today.

“You needn’t worry. We have had months to think this through, and are prepared for every eventuality,” Azula assured her.  

“Of course,” Shiza said.  As Azula closed her eyes, running through the plan a final time, her lady-in-waiting carefully closed the special case designed specifically for the makeup knife and left.  

In Azula’s distracted state, she never noticed that, although the knife case was closed, the knife itself was absent.

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

Soon, her Dai Li escort arrived to take her to the bunker.  On their way there, they encountered the bastards, who would have their own room underground.  

Anshi, of course, was heading up the line.  As soon as she saw Azula, she blew on the whistle that was always around her neck and ordered everyone to bow.  

Azula took the time to look them over.  Behind Anshi, there were Ichiro and Zhilan; the latter was clutching her own baby to her chest.  After them, neatly paired up, were Izumi and Ruanyu, Kenzo and Azen, Uzeko and Nozomi, and Lanying and Eri.  

But wait…there were two missing.  Upon Azula’s inquiry, Anshi explained, “Shiza took Zoren and Teza from the dormitory last night, Princess.  She said that the Fire Lord had special plans for them.”

Hm.  Shiza hadn’t mentioned this to her.  That seemed suspicious too, although it was not unheard of for Father to change plans at the last minute.  With another blow of Anshi’s whistle and a command for them to show Azula their best marching, the group set off.

Down and down and down they went, Azula leading the way, until they were in a special room that was below even the basement.  From there, a creaky elevator would take them down one or two at a time.  Azula noted that Father and Zuko were apparently already underground.

“What if the volcano blows up while we’re inside it?” the six-year-old Azen blurted out.  Izumi burst into tears.  The girl, despite being nearly fourteen, was scared of her own shadow and mostly nonverbal.  Azula would have considered her simple-minded if she hadn’t read some of her elegant and eloquent poetry.  Despite being two and a half years Izumi’s junior, Ruanyu was obliged to take on the role of an older sibling as she patted Izumi’s hand.

Anshi replied, “It’s not going to blow up.  Now pay attention…”

“I hafta go to the bathroom!” Nozomi interrupted.

“There’ll be one when we get there,” Anshi said while rubbing her temple.  “As I was saying, please pay attention as I go through this one last time.  The elevator will take the Princess down first, and then us.  You must all stay with your buddies at all times, and absolutely no wandering off.  When we are all down there, we will be taken to our room.  Does everyone remember what to do if the enemy breaks into our room during the eclipse?”

“We kick their faces in!” Ruanyu said brightly.  “And maybe other places too!  Like their…”

“Thank you, Ruyanu,” Anshi said pointedly.  “But yes, that is the general idea.  Older buddies are responsible for protecting the younger ones.  And…” her voice broke briefly as she glanced down, “You must all do exactly as I say when I say it, no questions asked.”

“What passionate Fire Nation citizens you all are,” Azula praised.  Internally, however, her mind whirred into action.  Had Anshi figured it out?  Just then, her escort tapped her shoulder; it was time for her to make her descent. She had no more time to think that over; now all her focus must be on the plan.

Even as far underground as they were, the elevator had a long way to go.  After it stopped, she was escorted through a maze of hallways; the layout would be bewildering to anyone else, but Azula had memorized every detail long ago.  

The room she had been assigned was bare of furnishings except a throne. No bathroom either; only chamber pots from Sozin’s day for the direst of emergencies.  Anshi had lied about that so the kids wouldn’t panic.  But it was no matter to Azula.  They’d only be here a few hours at most.  

So she crossed the room, sat down, and waited.  

[sanders-specs]

One of the sides gets turned into a dragon

Dragon Quest 

A/N: Soooo this ended up being way longer than I thought it would be, but I had a ton of fun writing it. Also a HUGE thank you to @seas-space-and-stardust for being a great beta reader. 

Pairing: Platonic LAMP 

Warnings: Cursing, arguing 

Read on Ao3 

Tag list: @irish-newzealand-idian-dutch @dan-yuna @tripleaaaqueer @lilbeanblr @helloisthisusernametaken @justanotherpurplebutterfly @alwaysmy-lilith @ilylogan @logically-trans  @generalfandomfabulousness @arentordinaryvillainsadorable @nico-ksanders @idioticsky

“Hey Logan, we uh…we have a situation.”

Logan lowered his book and looked up at Roman, who wasstanding in the doorway shifting from one foot to the other. He was looking at anywherebut Logan.  

“What did you do this time?” Logan asked with sigh, shuttinghis book and leaning back in his desk chair.

Roman bit his lip. “I, well, you should just come see.”

Sighing, Logan stood. “Very well.”

Roman led him back to his room. As they approached, Romanseemed to grow more and more agitated. “Now before we go in,” Roman said,blocking Logan’s path to the door, “keep in mind that this was an accident.”

Logan looked from Roman to the door, now getting slightlynervous. “You didn’t turn Virgil invisible again did you?”

“No, he won’t help me with potions after that. Patton,though…”

“You turned Pattoninvisible?!”

“No! I can safely say that I did not turn Patton invisible.”

“That implies that you did something to Patton,” Logan said,his concerns getting significantly larger. “Roman, what did you do?”

Roman just bit his lip and opened the door, stepping asidefor Logan to see.

The room looked mostly the same. A large king-sized bed withfar too many pillows sat against one wall, Roman’s array of costumes andoutfits were arranged neatly in his closet (really the only neat part ofRoman’s room), his potion station was as messy as ever. However, there was asignificant difference in the room, and that was the dragon head poking out ofthe Daydream Room.

For a moment, Logan was slightly confused as to why Romanwas making such a big deal. This certainty would not be the first time thathe’s conjured a dragon accidentally. The last one had ruined all of Logan’sgood ties and they were still finding bits and pieces of jewels from thedragon’s hoard all around the house.

It was when the dragon turned his eyes on Logan and his lipsturned into what could only be a smile that Logan realized what Roman’simplications had been earlier.

“You turned Patton into a dragon?!” Logan exclaimed, staring up at the dragon as he reachedforward to nuzzle Logan.

“Yeah,” Roman said, walking over and setting a hand onPatton’s head. “Like I said, it was an accident! We were getting potions readyfor daydreams for the road trip, and I guess a bit of dragon got mixed into itsomehow.”

Pinching the bridge of his nose, Logan surveyed the damage.Most of Patton’s body was lying just inside of the Daydream Room—how on earthRoman had managed to get him there was beyond Logan. He seemed to be curled up,quite content.

Patton let out what seemed to be either a growl or a whineand looked directly at Logan, pawing in his direction

Shifting slightly, Logan looked from him to Roman. “Whatdoes he want? Why is he looking at me like that?” Considering the last dragonwas content with trying to eat them unless they kept her properly fed, Loganfelt he had a right to be worried.

“From what I can tell,” Roman said, “we’re his hoard.”

Logan blinked and looked over at him. “What?”

Roman shrugged and Patton let out that noise again. “Youknow Patton…he loves his stuffed animals and us and memories…he nearlydestroyed my bed before I left until I said I was going to get you.”

Hesitantly, Logan moved closer to Patton who visibly relaxedas soon as Logan set a hand on his head. “So, we can’t leave?”

“You could but for the sake of my room and possibly the restof the house, I’d say no.”

At that moment, Patton grabbed Logan by his tie and pulledhim towards Roman, nearly knocking them both over.

“Agh, Patton!”

“Son of brisket!”

The two stumbled before regaining their footing, only forPatton to push them again. “Patton, what are you doing?” Logan stumbled forwardjust as Patton pushed him again.

He kept pushing and nudging until Logan and Roman were fullyin the Daydream room. “Wait, Patton, don’t—!” Roman called, but it was toolate. Patton pulled his head back and the door closed before disappearing.

Logan glared at Roman. “A disappearing door? You thoughtthat was a good idea!”

“Well it was…at the time.” Roman huffed and looked around.“It’ll appear somewhere else, we’ll just have to find it.”

Before they had a chance to discuss anything, though, Pattonwas nudging them towards a rather large pile that he seemed to have wrapped histail around. Waiting there was apparently another member of the ‘hoard’ leaningagainst the pile of stuffed animals.

“Sup,” Virgil said as Patton quite forcefully had them sitnext to him.

“How long have you been here?” Logan asked.

“Since Princey got Patton turned into a dragon. I was passingby when it happened and well,” Virgil motioned to the pile of stuffed animals,folders, and, well, junk that seemed to all be from Patton’s room.

“And you’ve just…stayed?” Logan asked.

Virgil shrugged. “I don’t want to upset him.”

Logan shook his head and watched Patton curl himself aroundthem, happy as could be. If Logan didn’t know any better, he would’ve said thatPatton was purring.

“We have to get out of here,” Logan muttered, standing tolook over Patton’s body. The dragon cracked an eye open to watch him, but Loganstayed where he was. The last thing he wanted was for Patton to be upset withhim and accidentally set them all on fire. Not only would it be inconvenient,but the moral side wouldn’t forgive himself for months, maybe years. And theyreally couldn’t have that.

“What’s the big deal? Thomas is on a road trip, he won’tneed us for a while,” Roman said, stretching out against the plushies.

“Actually, he has to drive in about two hours,” Virgil saidwithout looking up from his phone. “Which Lo and I need to be there for.”

“Oh. Right.”

“Roman, do you know where the door back to the house wouldpossibly be?” Logan asked, ignoring the conversation. As much as he didn’t wantto ask for Roman’s help, this was his realm. He knew it best.

“It’s set to show up anywhere in this room once the doorcloses. So…no.”

“Hm.” Logan continued to look around, going as far as toclimbing onto Patton’s back and sitting between two spikes. He knew he waspushing it, since Patton lifted his head to watch him, so he didn’t try hisluck with going any further.

They were in some kind of forest, sun peeking through theleaves. He couldn’t see anything for miles around them other than trees.

“Roman, is there any place in this room that’s not wooded?”Logan asked.

“Of course,” Roman said, sounding insulted. “We’re just inthe middle of the enchanted forest, the only proper place for a dragon tolive.”

Logan rolled his eyes. “Yes, of course, how could I be soblind.”

“Sarcasm isn’t helping Lo,” Virgil said as Roman huffed andcrossed his arms.

Logan closed his eyes to take a breath before turning hisattention back to the matter at hand. “We need to figure out how to get backbefore Thomas has to drive, otherwise he’ll be in complete daydream mode andhave little to no self-awareness.”

“Yes, we’ve got that,” Roman snapped, still pouting.

“Well I don’t hear you offering any helpful suggestions!”

“Well we’re not going to get anywhere if you’re just statingthe obvious.”

“It’s good to have a clear understanding of the situationand the problem.”

“Whatever nerd.”

“Hey!” Virgil said, standing and crossing his arms. “First,shut up, you’re giving me a headache. Second, stop fighting because you’reupsetting Patton.”

Immediately both boys turned to look at Patton, who hadlifted his head and was rumbling. Logan realized then how tense Patton wasunder him, so he slowly got back down to join the others.

“Okay,” Logan said, keeping his voice calm. “We’ll have tofind the door so we can get back to Roman’s room and work on a potion to turnPatton back and get us back to help drive. Roman, you know this place betterthan anyone, where would be a good place to start.”

Roman sighed and stood, looking up as if he could see aroundthe giant lizard body that was wrapped around them.

“I know someone who can help, but she always likes for me tolook before coming to her. There are a few places the door like to show up atthe most, too, so we could check there first.”

“What if it’s not there?” Virgil asked.

Roman shrugged. “We’ll have to ask the witch for help.”

“Excuse me, witch?” Logan asked.

“Yeah, the witch that lives in the woods. All EnchantedForests have them, Logan.”

“Is that your friend?” Virgil asked with raised eyebrows, towhich Roman only shrugged.

Logan rubbed his temple. “Now I’m getting a headache.”

“Look, this isn’t your territory,” Roman said. “it’s mine,so things aren’t going to make sense. The sooner you get over that the better.”

Logan was startled by Roman’s defensive tone. He wasn’tquite sure how to respond either.

Perhaps sensing this, Virgil spoke up amid the silence.“Okay so…where do we start?”

“There’s the village just beyond the forest,” Roman said, “Icould walk there within a few hours, but bringing a dragon isn’t the…best idea,to say the least.” Roman ran a hand through his hair and paused for a momentbefore snapping his fingers and changing into what appeared to be leather armorthat mirrored his regular outfit. “Alright so you guys wait here while I go and look for the door.” Hesnapped his fingers again and a dark red cloak appeared around his shoulders.“I need to get some potion ingredients too, to change Patton back.”

The dragon in question grumbled and wrapped his tail aroundRoman to stop him from taking a step away. Roman looked up at him. “Patton, I’msorry but you can’t come into the town, and we have to figure out where thisdoor is. I have to go.”

Patton’s grip around him only tightened and he let out awhine that sounded like a tea kettle whistling, only louder. Logan saw worryand hesitation in the dragon’s eyes. He really didn’t want to lose sight of anyof them.

Sighing, Logan put a hand on Patton’s tail. “Virgil ormyself could go with him to make sure that everything goes according to plan.”

“Too many people, no,” Virgil said from where he was leaningagainst Patton’s side.

“And I don’t need your help,” Roman said, rolling his eyes.

Logan glared at the two of them then looked back at Patton.“This way, none of us are alone, and we can get things done faster.”

Patton looked hesitant, but Logan could see from the way hisbody relaxed a little that he was at least considering Logan’s words. Slowlybut surely, he let Roman go, keeping his eyes on the two of them.

“Okay, well, if you’re going you need to blend in,” Romansaid, sighing in defeat.

Logan frowned. “I don’t see why; I am not of importance inthis room.”

“You think that now, but do you know how annoying it is tobe suspended in disbelief in a daydream? To have logic butt in to make you think. I’ve worked hard to create thisplace and I’m not about to have you ruin it because you’re wearing…that.” Romanlooks Logan up and down, and for a moment, Logan couldn’t help but wonder whatexactly was wrong with his outfit before shaking himself out of it.

“Did you just call me annoying?”

“Did I stutter?”

Logan glared at him, a look that Roman returned.

“Ooookay,” Virgil said, stepping between them, just as Loganregistered that Patton’s tail was thumping on the ground in agitation. “Look,Lo, just wear the stupid outfit. Better to get this over with than fight aboutit right?” He gave a pointed glance at Patton.

Logan sighed. “Fine.” He took a moment to think about it,studying Roman’s chosen outfit. Then he snapped his fingers and he foundhimself adorned in a similar outfit to Roman’s, though one far more suited tohis tastes. His pants weren’t quite denim, as they were made out of a thickerfabric, and he wore a black cotton shirt with a dark blue leather vest over it,with a navy-blue cloak over that. He also wore black hiking boots that laced upto his knees.

“Is this a suitable outfit?” Logan asked.

“It’ll do,” Roman said with a shrug and turned away. “Let’sgo.”

Logan only rolled his eyes as he followed Roman. As theywere exiting the clearing, however, he heard a low grumble, almost a whine. Heturned to see Patton watching them sadly.

“No worries,” Logan said as gently as his annoyance wouldallow, “we will be fine.”

His words did nothing to soothe Patton, over, though, asthey walked into the forest.

Two hours later, they had found nothing about the door backto the mind palace, though Logan had learned that Roman was apparently verydetailed in his imaginary lands. Every shop and sign had a purpose, and everyperson had a difference face, a different personality.

Well, almost everyone.

There were a few townsfolk whom Logan recognized. Charactersfrom different videos and vines, certain ones Logan went out of his way toavoid, such as the dreaded teacher character everyone so often compared him to.

Otherwise, most of the people he passed were completely unrecognizableto him.

They all had a varying degree of politeness as well. Sometreated Logan well, others completely ignored his questions. He finallyresolved himself to let Roman take care of the door and he would focus ongetting the correct potion ingredients to turn Patton back to his normal humanform. Eventually he met back up with Roman, who had as much luck as Logan hadwith trying to locate the door back to their home.

When they returned to Patton and Virgil, they found Pattoncurled up in the sun, staring at the place where Logan and Roman haddisappeared, and Virgil was now in a similar outfit to theirs, though his stillhad his purple and black plaid added to it. He was laying on Patton’s neck,between two spikes, his head resting against one and his legs almost verticalagainst another, his body making an L shape. He looked up when Patton did,startled by the movement.

“Oh hey, you didn’t kill each other, what a surprise,”Virgil said blandly.

“Ha ha,” Roman said, rolling his eyes. “Anyway, no luck withthe door. None of the townsfolk knew anything, but we did get the potioningredients!”

“You mean I got the potion ingredients,” Logan corrected.

“Yeah, sure whatever, so our next plan of action is to seekout the witch,” Roman said, taking the bag from Logan and stuffing it in hissatchel. “It’s pretty deep in the forest, so it be better to fly there.” Helooked to Patton.

“What do you say Pops?” Virgil asked, sliding to the ground.“Wanna give us a ride?”

Patton hesitated, and he peered over at the rest of the pileof stuff.

“Don’t worry,” Roman said, “I can’t make the door appearwhere I want on this side, but I can once we’re in my room. We’ll come back forall of this, promise. No one’ll touch it.”

He said this with a tone that implied people would be tooafraid to, though Logan was sure that no one would touch it because everythingin that pile was useless to everyone but Patton. Roman probably knew that, buthis words seemed to do the job, because Patton relaxed and nodded.

“Wonderful!” Roman exclaimed. “Patton, do you mind if Istrap on some harnesses for us? And maybe a sort of dragon saddle? Just sowe’re safe and comfortable.”

Patton got up and stretched out before crouching back downand nodding at Roman.

“Thank you, my good cold-blooded friend!” Roman exclaimedbefore snapping his fingers again. Patton was suddenly adorned with threesaddles, complete with harnesses, as well as armor.

“That’s a little much,” Logan said, looking at the gianthelmet and breast plate.

“Just to be safe! People around here are weary of dragons.Many of them shoot first and ask questions later.”

“You mean we’re going to get gunned down?!” Virgil shouted,taking a step away from Patton, whose tail started flicking slightly withagitation.

“No! No, no, more like arrowed down. That’s what the armor’sfor. In fact, we probably all should, just to be safe.”

Logan frowned. “Roman, like you said, isn’t this yourterritory? Can’t you do whatever you want?” he motioned to the armor andsaddles.

“I can’t control an entire land on my own, Logan, do youknow how exhausting that would be? Besides, don’t you know how daydreams canrun wild? There are plenty of beings here that I have no control over.”

Logan huffed but just climbed onto Patton’s back, bucklingthe harness around him. He sat in the back, figuring that Virgil would feelmore comfortable in the middle. Patton turned around and nudged him, forcinghis arms apart in an almost hug.

“Uh…it’s okay Patton,” Logan said, awkwardly patting hishead. What was up with him? “We’ll get you back to your human self.”

Patton just nuzzled against him for another moment beforeturning back around to let the other two onto his back.

“Are you sure this witch will help us?” Virgil asked as thethree of them strapped in.

“There’s a chanceshe’ll be able to locate the door, or even summon it. It depends on the kind ofmood she’s in.”

“What are we going to do if she’s in a bad mood?” Virgilasked, sliding to the ground.

“Uh…well, we’ll cross that bridge when we get to it,” Romansaid.

Logan frowned. “We are flying, correct? Why would we need tocross a bridge?”

Roman sighed as Virgil shook his head. “It’s a phrase, Lo,”he explains.

“Ah,” he mutters, making a mental note to add it to hisflashcards when they got back.

“Right!” Roman clapped his hands together, effectivelystartling Virgil and making them all look at him. “Shall we go?”

Flying while strapped to the back of a dragon was…not whatLogan had expected to do that day. Or ever.

He had to admit, though, it was an interesting experience.He would even describe it as fun, to a certain extent. Roman certainly had ablast, if his excited yelling was anything to go by. Virgil only leaned back alittle, his hand gripping his harness.

“Where are we going exactly?” Logan asked.

“The heart of the forest of course!” Roman yelled back, andwhen Logan looked to where he pointed, he couldn’t see anything other thantrees. He supposed all he could was trust that Roman knew where he was going.

Logan took a moment to look out over the Daydream room.Roman had done a rather good job, he had to admit. The land went on for miles,complete with a castle in the distance. If he didn’t know any better, Loganwould have been able to believe that this was a real place, rather than a roominside the mind palace.

Logan’s thoughts were jerked away from the room as theysuddenly dipped, going almost vertical. He let out a gasp and instinctivelygrasped onto Virgil, who was clinging to Roman. After another moment, they shotup, regaining the altitude they lost.

“What the hell Princey?!” Virgil yelled, breathing hard.

Roman let out a joyful laugh. “That wasn’t me!” he calledover the wind. “I think Patton’s learning what all he can do!”

“I don’t think nearly killing us is a very good idea!” Loganshouts.

“Oh, stop worrying! Patton wouldn’t let anything happen tous,” Roman called back, leading Patton towards the forest.

It took a few moments for Logan’s heart to go back tonormal, and before he could go back to just observing the room around him. Hecounted a few towns, even smaller villages, and several paths through theforest for travelers.

Suddenly, Patton jolted again, this time diving far fasterthan before. Logan let out a surprised yelp and leaned over to see what wasgoing on, finding that they seemed to be chasing a flock of birds.

Up front, Roman was laughing again. He was clearly enjoyingthis far more than Logan or Virgil were. He dropped the reins and held out hisarms, tilting his head back. It was like he did this every day, and Logansupposed that he might. He did have complete access to this room. Logan would haveto speak with him late about constantly distracting Thomas for his ownenjoyment.

Patton let out a roar that Logan could only describe as beingjoyful. It seemed he was enjoying this too. He leveled out and tilted, turningthem in all different directions. It took a few minutes, but Logan eventuallygot used to it. He learned to lean with Patton when he turned and dove. He evenwas able to anticipate a turn just by the way Patton moved his wings andshifted his body.

Even Virgil relaxed a little, especially after listening toLogan’s instructions so they weren’t straining to stay on. Even so, Logan figuredthat their bodies would be aching the next day.

At one point, they flew over a lake and Patton dove low,letting his claws trail in the water and spraying them all with water. Virgillaughed a little and pulled his hood over his head. Logan just shook his headand took off his glasses to clean them as they rose back over the trees, thougheven he couldn’t deny the small smile on his lips. The moral side was reallyhaving fun with this now.

After a while of flying in silence (and a few more momentsof Patton chasing after birds. Honestly Logan figured that it was just a gameto Patton at this point), they started circling over a clearing in the forest,where a big farmhouse sat.

Patton gently landed outside, the resident of the housealready standing out on the porch watching them.

“Not what I thought a witches house would look like,” Virgilsaid as they look up at the house.

“Patton’s idea. He felt bad about making them all live in acottage,” Roman said offhandedly, sliding to the ground.

Logan frowned. So Roman had had Patton’s help in creatingthis room. He wasn’t entirely sure what to do with that information.

“Mal! Long time no see, how’s Salem?” Roman asked the witch,opening his arms like he was greeting a longtime friend.

“Salem? Mal?” Virgil muttered beside Logan. “As in Salem thecat from Sabrina? And Maleficent?”

As if on cue, a black cat jumped onto the railing, rubbingagainst the witch’s hand.

“Television and movie influences of Thomas’s childhood nodoubt,” Logan muttered back.

Suddenly, Patton’s tail slammed down in front of Roman,pushing him back. He was tense, looking at the witch—Mal, Logan presumed—withunblinking eyes, a low growl rumbling in his throat.

“Oh, Patton, don’t be alarmed! She’s a good witch, likeGlinda!” Roman said, patting the dragon’s tale.

Mal raised a perfect eyebrow. “Patton? As in Morality? Whathave you gotten yourself into this time Your Highness?”

Vigil rolled his eyes.

“Oh, you know….” Roman glanced at Patton. “The usual.”

Mal sighed and shook her head. She comes down the steps,holding Salem in her arms. “Patton, hello, it’s okay, your friends will be verysafe inside.”

Still, Patton didn’t relax.

“Hey,” Virgil said gently. “Look, there are a ton ofwindows. Why don’t we open them all, so you’ll still be able to see us and heareverything going on okay?”

“Why don’t we stay out here?” Logan suggests.

“Because everything we need is inside,” Roman said. “Pat,we’ll be fine, I promise.”

It was clear that Patton didn’t like it, but he eventuallyraised his tail and let them walk into the house. Mal did as Virgil suggestedand opened all the windows, leading them to the kitchen. Patton followed themaround the house, his blue scales glinting every now and then in the corner ofLogan’s eye.

“So, I assume you need help with your dragon problem?” Malasked, setting Salem down on the kitchen island, which was covered in potioningredients, a cauldron in the middle.

“Actually, just the door,” Roman said, leaning casuallyagainst the counter. Virgil immediately hoisted himself up onto a windowsill,where Patton had settled himself beside. He propped one leg up on the sill,letting the other hang off the side.

��Yes, Roman’s in adequate door design has left us strandedhere, and Thomas will need Virgil and myself back very soon. Having Pattonturned back will also be less of a headache,” Logan said, earning a glare fromRoman.

Mal smirked and threw something into her brewing potion,making it bubble more than it already was. “That door of yours really has beena problem. This is…what? The fifth time?”

Roman shrugged. “Every time I think I know its patterns, itchanges. Not my fault.”

“Wait, the door is sentient?” Virgil asked. “I thought itwas just enchanted.”

“Everything in this world is enchanted, Anxiety,” Mal said,and Logan didn’t miss Virgil’s mouth twitch downward slightly. “From the mossthat grows on the trees to the clothing made here.”

“That…is not logical,” Logan said with a frown.

“Daydreams don’t have logic,” Mal said. “Why do you thinkthis is your first time here?”

Logan balked at that, but he set the comment aside to ponderabout later.

“Ouch,” Virgil muttered, and Patton growled in agreementoutside.

“Never mind that,” Logan said, shaking his head. “Can yousummon the door or not?”

Mal gave him an affronted look. “Of course, I can.” Shemoved around the kitchen, pulling things from cupboards and the refrigerator,adding them to the cauldron before any of them could even figure out what she wasgetting. “I do require a price.”

“Oh, come on Mal,” Roman sighed. “Can’t this just be a teenytiny favor?”

She shot a glare at him. “My prince,” she said the phrasemockingly, “need I remind you again that this is the fifth time you’ve comeseeking my help? So, either pay my price, or spend day searching this land forthe door and leave Thomas without his logic, anxiety and morality. Yourchoice.”

Roman crossed his arms. “What’s your price,” he mutteredstubbornly.

Mal smiled and threw an herb into her cauldron. “I sensethat you have the bone of a goblin on your person. I need it for my spell.”

Roman frowned. “I need it to turn Patton back. That’s thewhole reason I got it.”

Mal shrugged as Salem jumped onto the counter, purring andrubbing against her hand. She ran a hand along the back of the cat. “I’m surethat between the three of you, you’ll figure something out.”

Roman gave her a look that was a mix between a glare and apout. He didn’t seem to happy to have to be bargained with.

“Just give it to her, Roman,” Logan said, exasperated. “She’sright, we can figure something out.”

“But—!”

“Dude, it’s not that big of a deal,” Virgil groaned, leaninghis head back against the windowsill. “Yeah we need to change Pat back but Loand I most need to get back before Thomas has to drive. You know it’ll be adisaster if we don’t.”

Outside, Patton nodded slightly.

Roman sighed. “Fine, fine, here,” he hands her a vial ofwhat looked like dust. She scooped it up almost greedily, a triumphant smile onher lips. “Thank youuu!” she sings, dumping its contents into her cauldron,which made a puff of smoke. She dusted her hands off and turned them. “Followme boys.”

It only took a few minutes for Mal to “call the door to her”as she put it, and when she did, Roman stepped through, instructing Logan andVirgil to take Patton back to his hoard. Patton didn’t seem to happy to nothave one of them there, but he didn’t make any protest when Roman steppedthrough the door and closed it, disappearing.

“Pleasure meeting you boys,” Mal called from her doorway,Salem laying on the railing watching them with big yellow eyes.

Logan only gave her a nod before he climbed into Roman’sseat behind the reins and strapped himself in, Virgil behind him.

“Oh, and do tell Roman to come visit more often, I do lovethem,” Mal called as they took off.

Once they were up in the air, Virgil leaned forward. “Ididn’t like her. She seemed off.”

Logan shrugged. “She’s a witch. I don’t think they’resupposed to be good, exactly. She didn’t seem bad, anyway.”

Virgil just shook his head and leaned back.

When they landed back at where they’d left Patton’shoard—everything in the mountain of things still intact—they found Romanwaiting for them, a large rock keeping the door propped open.

Logan checked his watch. They had twenty minutes before itwas Thomas’s turn to drive on his road trip. Which meant that Logan had twentyminutes to help Roman mix the potion.

Patton curled up around his things as Virgil and Logan slidto the ground and walked towards the room.

“I don’t know how I’m going to make this potion without thatbone dust,” Roman muttered, already mixing ingredients. “Stupid Mal, alwaystaking my potion ingredients.”

“Hey,” Logan said, taking a vial out of his cloak pocket. Hethrows it to Roman, who catches it, then looks up at him. “I saw it in a shopwhile we were in that town, I thought it would be interesting to study, so Igot some.”

Relief flooded Roman’s face as he added it to the potion.“Uh…thanks Lo.”

“Of course,” Logan said with a nod. Then he jumped when hefelt a scaly head nuzzle his arm. He looked down to see Patton looking up athim with shinning eyes. Sighing, Logan patted his head and let him set it nextto him. “I should go help Roman with the potion,” he said, but Patton didn’tmove. When Logan tried, Patton let out a whine and kept nudging him back.

“oh fine,” Logan muttered, sitting down next him. Pattonhappily set his head in Logan’s lap, a low rumbled going through his throatthat Logan assumed was a purr.

Glancing around, Logan found Virgil sitting against Patton’sneck, his head down as if he were asleep. He then looked around the forestaround him. It was silent except for the insects and animals in the forest, aswell as Patton’s breathing beside him.

There was something calming about this place. Somethingpeaceful. Then again, he didn’t know what lurked in these forests or what couldhappen in a place where it seemed like anything in the world could happen,including turning someone into a dragon or trading with a rather suspiciouswitch who seems to have her own agenda. Not that it was Logan’s problem. He’dlet Roman take care of that.

Still, though, Logan found himself relaxing for the firsttime since he got there.

“Got it!” Roman exclaimed, bringing Logan’s attention backto him. He rushed back into the room and held up a vial triumphantly.

Logan sighed as he carefully put away his cloak. Of course,he could’ve just vanished the clothes away but something had made him hesitateat the idea. Then before he could think too much about it, he found himselfsummoning a trunk where he carefully folded his fantasy clothes and changedback into his regular ones.

“Lo?”

Logan turned just as he closed the top of the trunk and sawPatton standing in the doorway, back to normal aside from a scale here andthere.

“Ah, hello Patton, it seems that the potion is working,”Logan said.

Patton nodded. “Yeah, Ro said that the scales would be gonein a few days.”

“Good,” Logan said, shifting a little. “Is there a reasonyou sought me out?”

“Oh!” Patton smiled. “Right, I wanted to thank you for beingso patient with overprotective dragon me. Reassuring me and all that.”

“Oh, well…” Logan’s voice trailed off. He wasn’t quite surehow to respond to that. “You are welcome.”

Patton smiled for a moment before it fell. He leaned againstthe doorway. “Also…don’t feel bad about all that stuff Mal and Roman said. Youdid a great job of blending in with the daydream, I think.”

“Well, um…I was only focused on getting you turned back, Idid what I needed to do.” Logan cleared his throat. “Now if you’ll excuse me, Ihave work to do.”

Patton sighed and reached out to squeeze Logan’s arm. “Cometalk to me if you need to yeah? You know there’s nothing wrong with actuallyfeeling something, Lo.”

“I appreciate the sentiment.” Logan said as he walked pastPatton towards the door. “And…it’s nice to have you back to being human,Patton.”

[gothamgroup]

Reflections

It was a heady, humid day when the Valeska twins first snuck into the Hall of Mirrors by themselves. 

The day had been a wet one, a ferocious outpouring of rain spilling from the clouds that menaced in the sky and the sun blotted out by a steel grey. The heat had remained though, due to the nature of summer and as such Lila Valeska was lying on a rickety sun chair, in the middle of the day, an umbrella stuck into the ground to prevent her from getting soaked if the heavens decided to crack open again. She stretched and heard sounds from inside the trailer behind her, causing her to scowl. 

“Stupid fucking brats,” she thought to herself, “always getting in my goddamn way! Can’t a woman drink a little in peace around here?”

A little in Lila’s case was around 2 and a half bottles of the strongest anything she could get her hands on, and for the most part of the day she drank in peace. However, a minute or two after she’d decided to rest on outside, Jeremiah, her oldest - or was he younger? She could never remember- slipped and fell on the trailer steps. He was trying to get outside to count how many cars were on the Ferris wheel as it went around and round again, the lights flickering brightly against the dark sky. Because he was only a small child, or in Lila’s opinion a little brat, he promptly burst into tears. He was far too noisy, and as such Lila abandoned the deckchair, rising and slapping him across the face. This only made him cry louder and Lila began to throw punches, in her drunken attempt to make her child shut the hell up.

The unmistakable sound of his brother being abused brought Jerome outside, who attempted to shove Lila away. He was no match for the weight of a fully grown woman however, and he slipped, nearly cracking his head on the concrete paving at the bottom of the steps. 

All of this seemed terribly amusing to Lila, who was floating somewhere between her abusive drunken state and her abusive sexually promiscuous state, so she threw back her head and laughed. An ugly laugh, tinged with malice and whiskey, showing her bright white teeth she’d paid $300 for and driving Jeremiah, who she’d paid around $50 on in his whole life, to leap up - and bite his mother hard on the hand. After the first bite, the tiny redhead didn’t stop there. Jeremiah clawed, scratched and bit while Lila let out a series of high-pitched squealing noises, unable to pull back as her child kept his iron strong and hateful attack focused on her.

Jerome, nursing the headache he had sustained from falling, wondered if this time Lila was going to finally be taught a lesson, as it seemed as though Jeremiah was about to bite her whole hand off. But just as the small redhead let his hopes up, he saw the main figure of his nightmares stalking towards the trailer, and those hopes promptly perished.

“What is the fucking meaning of this?” shouted the burly aggressive figure, known only to Jerome and Jeremiah as the Snake Man, “What the hell do you think you’re doing, boy?”

Jeremiah instantly dropped hold of his mother’s arm. He too recognised the voice and his heart sank into the ground, burying itself 6 feet deep. He turned around slowly, his thin frame trembling, only for Snake Man’s fist to make solid contact with his face. The punch stung viciously, and he fell once again, but only this time onto the ground with a sickening crack noise. 

Jerome screamed in horror, but was instantaneously smacked by Lila, and the cry turned to a whimper. He stared disbelieving at the twitching figure of Jeremiah, who was whining faintly, his leg dislocated at an unnatural angle. A gash had formed where his glasses had cut into his face, a small trickle of blood dripping slowly down, mixing with the rainwater on the ground.

“Babe,” drawled Lila petulantly, giving Jeremiah’s fragile body a kick in the ribs to check if he was still alive, “why’d ya have to go and do that? Now I gotta pay for the brat’s knee to be put back in, or whatever.”

“Never mind him,” Snake Man dismissed, “I heard you got yourself some good liquor in.”

At this, Lila grinned wickedly. “Yeah, well maybe that’s true. What do you want if it is?”

Snake Man’s arm wrapped itself around Lila’s waist predatorily, and Jerome held back the sudden need to throw up. “I was thinking maybe we could get really drunk... and maybe do something fun?” 

Lila threw her arms around his neck and purred. “What counts as fun for you then, handsome?”

Pulling his regular hook-up a little closer, the snake tamer hummed a creepy low “You, baby” which caused Lila to burst into a fit of giggles. 

“Why don’t we go and do that then,” she chuckled, before turning an ice-cold glare on Jerome. “Take care of your useless brother, d’ya understand?”

“I don’t know, I really think he needs a hospital- “Jerome began to protest but the words died in his throat when his mother raised a fist into the air as a warning.

“Do not test my patience, you wretch,” Lila hissed, “Now. Do. You. Understand?”

Jerome nodded weakly. “Yes ma’am.”

“Fine,” Lila allowed, lowering her hand and turning back to Snake Man. “C’mon, honey, we’ve got a lot to do,” she hummed, and with that, the two abusers turned and entered the trailer. 

 Jerome waited until the door to the trailer had completely shut, before scrambling to pick his brother up off the ground. His haphazard attempt elicited a few suppressed groans from Jeremiah, who knew that if he shouted out, he would only have to face the wrath of Lila again.

The two stumbled to their feet, with Jerome’s arms wrapped tightly around his brother’s waist for support. “Where do you wanna go?” Jerome started, looking over his shoulder at the trailer, “Cause I really don’t wanna stay here.”

Jeremiah took in a few shallow gasps of air, before murmuring, “The hall of mirrors. You’re going to need one if you’ve got to put my leg back in place.”

Jerome frowned worriedly. “I dunno if that’s such a good idea, what if I end up making it worse? That’s what mom says I always do.”

“Nobody else is going to help us Jerome. C’mon. It really hurts, please!” Jeremiah begged, his white face turning paler by the second and Jerome sighed.

“Okay, just hang on- “ 

“Agh- “Jeremiah’s face contorted as he hobbled forward, Jerome’s hands around him the only thing keeping him upright as he fought the need to fall and scream in agony. 

The two passed the bright red circus tent and the stalls selling food they’d have to steal scraps of later, until they reached the large neon sign proclaiming “House of Mirrors! See into your past! See into your future!”

Jerome pushed the vinyl sheet that posed itself as a door out the way, and the twins entered a hallway decked with shining mirrors. Their reflections gazed back at them - two small redheads, one with a visibly dislocated leg and both with bruises littered over their faces. 

Jerome led Jeremiah forward through the mirror maze, until they reached a room where he felt that nobody was likely to walk into. Gently, he helped Jeremiah onto the ground, avoiding touching his sore leg. 

Jeremiah gestured to Jerome. “I need you to put in back in.”

“How?” Jerome asked, equally disgusted and intrigued by the way his brother’s arm twisted at an angle. “What do I have to do?”

“I read about it in once, in a book someone left behind the tent. You gotta grab my leg with both hands and twist it the right way, pushing down, I think. You’re not supposed to, but Lila will kill us both if we call an ambulance.”

Jerome wrapped his arms around Jeremiah’s leg, which was incredibly tense. “Hey, Jeremiah, why don’t cannibals eat clowns?”

Jeremiah’s face screwed up in confusion. “Jerome, what? Just put my leg back in place!”

Jerome pouted. “C’mon! Just ask me why!”

“Okay then. Why don’t cannibals eat clowns?”

Jerome grinned. “Because they taste funny!”

Jeremiah stared at his brother, until he began to laugh. “Jerome that is such a stupid jo- “

Taking advantage of his brother’s distraction, Jerome pushed and twisted down on Jeremiah’s leg.

Jeremiah screamed loudly. Jerome began to panic.

“Oh god, did I do something wrong? I’m so sorry I didn’t mean to! Can I fix it?” 

Jeremiah shook his head. “You didn’t do anything wrong. It just really, really hurt. I hope there’ll be no permanent damage,” he grimaced, running his fingers over the hopefully relocated joint.

“Okay,” Jerome sighed in relief, before slouching down onto the ground. A few minutes passed in silence, Jerome fiddling with his own fingers, until he turned over to face Jeremiah. He found his twin staring intently into one of the floor length mirrors, one hand extended forward, as if he expected his own reflection to reach out and touch him.

“Jerome,” he began.

“Yeah, Jeremiah?”

“Do you wonder what you’ll be like when you grow up?”

Jerome blinked. “Sometimes, I guess. Why?”

“Do you think we’ll turn out like Lila?”

The sentence shot a chill down Jerome’s spine. He’d never admit it, but becoming his mother terrified him more than anything else. She was truly his worst nightmare. “No way.”

“Are you sure? Because, when I look in the mirror sometimes, I see her looking back at me. Her eyes. Her grin. Plastered across my face, and I can’t get it off.” He swivelled and looked at his brother. Tears were welling in his eyes. “I don’t want to be like her, Jerome.”

A beat passed, one that hung heavy in the air like the heat outside, until suddenly Jerome wrapped his arms tightly around Jeremiah, hugging him close.

“You’re never going to be like her, Miah. She’s a bad person. She’s evil and vindictive and – and you’re good, Miah,” he whispered to his brother, burying his face against Jeremiah’s threadbare cardigan. “You’re great Miah, and you’re nothing like mom.”

Jeremiah weakly smiled against Jerome’s arms, and reciprocated the hug equally as hard. “You’re great too, Jerome. And Lila’s wrong. You don’t mess everything up.” 

They held each other for a little while longer, in a rare moment of sibling solidarity, until Jeremiah pulled back.

“Do you wanna be in the circus like Lila, though?”

“Nah,” Jerome said decidedly, “I want to be a solo act. Maybe stand-up comedy if I ever leave this place.” He looked at his own reflection and saw himself as a grown-up dressed in a good suit, telling jokes to an unseen crowd who were roaring with laughter.

“Makes sense. You’re good at making people laugh.” 

“Gee, thanks Jeremiah. What about you?”

Jeremiah studied his reflection again. He could see the Ferris wheel and the carriages he was trying to count as they went around and round. As soon as they finished a rotation, they morphed into a gleaming rail system. He could imagine all the parts in expert detail, and himself standing and watching as his work helped the daily commuters of Gotham city.

“An engineer. I like knowing how thinks work and I really like putting things together. And taking them apart again.”

“Alright. What about getting married?”

Jeremiah gawped at Jerome. “What do you mean, marriage?”

“I dunno,” Jerome responded, awkwardly pulling at his shoelaces, “I was just thinking. Mom never got married and I don’t think I want to be either.”

“So, you won’t be in a relationship then?” Jeremiah pushed, now curious about his brother’s opinion. 

“No, I think I’d like to meet someone. I just don’t want to be married. Too much fuss and it’s only some paper,” Jerome shrugged. 

“I want to get married.”

Jerome looked surprised. “Really? You always seemed so, an- ane- anel- “

“Analytical? I suppose,” Jerome conceded, “but I’m a bit of a romantic at heart.” His face took on a dreamy look as he spoke. “I want a big wedding. A proper one with lots of flowers, and a big cake. I want you there, obviously, and a huge reception too. You can do stand-up if you want, and it’ll be a nice cool night, with loads of stars out.”

“And you’ll want a pretty wife in a wedding dress?” Jerome interjected.

“Uh! I-I don’t know.”

Jerome grinned “or a handsome husband in a nice suit?” 

“Maybe...” Now Jeremiah looked embarrassed.

“Thought so!” Jerome teased.

“Well, what about you?” Jeremiah retorted, still blushing. “What type of person would you want to marry?”

Jeremiah shrugged. “I don’t really care. It’s not important to me. As long as they’re fun and they care about me.” Another moment passed.

“Do you think Lila would mind?”

“What do you mean?”

“Well, because I’d prefer to marry... And because you don’t care either way. Would she get upset?”

“I don’t care what mom thinks,” Jerome spat, his voice suddenly slipping into an unknown raw anger. “Her opinion is worthless. She’s just a stupid fucking- “His voice stopped when he realised how livid he was. His hands were shaking, his face was hot with rage and Jeremiah was gaping at him in shock.  “I’m sorry, I just- “

“No, I get it,” Jeremiah returned. “She’s the worst.”

Jerome cracked a lopsided smile. “Yeah. She’s the worst. How’s your leg now?” 

“Still stings awfully, but I’ll get over it.”

“Okay. I’ll see if I can get you any medical supplies for when it’s healing.”

Yet another moment passed. Until-

“Hey Jerome?”

“Yeah?”

“Thank you.”

“For what?”

“For being such a good brother.”

“It’s nothing. Really.”

“Still. Thank you.” 

Another moment.

“Hey, Miah?

“Hm?”

“I love you.”

“I love you too, Jerome.”

[futurewriter2000]

Sweet fights ~ Pt. 3

A/N: I wrote it already and then deleted it and rewrote it again. I honestly didn’t know how to write it. Guess I lost ideas for how to continue it but now I’m done and I really hope it’s good and up to your expectations. I’ve been really feeling insecure about my writing and idk why. 

XX

If the world could see hell, they would just have to look at you right in the eye because you were completely pissed off.

Not only did the vertigos prevent you from playing Quidditch but you also had to drink up a potion every 8 hours.

It sure wasn’t fun. It wasn’t and you were furious not only at yourself but at the two bloody red heads laughing at their table like nothing that they had done that day hasn’t happened.

You knew they were pranksters. The biggest in Hogwarts but you preferred to face problems head-on than to drag them and push them in the black hole.

But there was something that was lingering in the back of your mind. That one thing that would make them realize what they have just done to you.

So the next day you didn’t take the potion, you were supposed to. You wanted them to know what they did to you, not only physically but mentally as well. You didn’t really mind the vertigos as they started to fade away sooner. The pain wasn’t immense anymore and just a few headaches visited you during the whole day.

But nothing that day happened. Not a single headache or a poke in the head.

No potion and you were completely fine. You waited a few more days to see if it was really true and you were correct. No more headaches.

Your joy was far bigger than the Weasleys and the prank you had set out for them. The only thing you wanted was to get back on the field and return the favor to them.

Madam Pomfrey was the first to clear you off of your vertigos but she still preferred for you not to play. But convincing as you were both Dumbledore and Professor Snape gave you clearance to go back on the field.

Professor Snape supervised the first training you had and nothing big happened to it. It was just a caution and you were completely fine.

Before the next game, which was against Ravenclaws, approached, everybody decided to go on a Hogsmeade trip. This was your first and you weren’t really taken by it. There were only pubs and shops, something you find everywhere in England.

After an hour of third-wheeling with your friend Tilly and her boyfriend, you decided to take a left to a path that was leading far to a small cottage. It was old, of course, but something was pulling you towards it. Maybe it was the mystery or just the fact that you felt some dark magic radiate from it.

Just as you were about to walk in, you bumped in who else but one of the famous redheads. The ground underneath you disappeared and the next thing you knew, you were in a pile of snow looking up at the grinning prankster.

“ Need a hand?” he smiled, offering you his gloved hand while you only glared and huffed.

“ From a great lad like you? No thanks.” ou tried to get up from the snow but was quite buried in it.

“ You sure?” he laughed as you continued to struggle, almost getting on your feet but feeling the ground covered in ice.

“ I think..:” you panted, catching your balance. “ I’m quite capable..” you continued finally standing on your own two feet. “...getting up by myself.” you looked up, stepping forward, slipping yet again and falling right in his arms.

“ Stubborn.” he chuckled, holding you in his arms while you continued to struggle with the icy ground. “ Capable, huh?” he grinned, finally putting you on dry steps of the pub and taking a long look at you.

You had frozen, red cheeks that perfectly pointed out the color of your eyes. The cap on your head was holding on to it loosely and the ends of your hair were completely wet from the snow. There was a small glimmer in your pupil, something that made his breath take away immediately without him knowing.

“ You-you.” he stammered a bit, something he has never experienced before. “ Your hat is a bit - here let me.” he placed his hands on your hat and pulled it down to cover your ears.

“ Taking care of me, Weasley?” you grinned and watched him scoff in return.

“ Because you’re so CApaBLE doing it on your own.” he mocked and you laughed, playfully punching him in the shoulder

“ Shut up. I really got it.”

“ Yeah, I saw.” he smiled and jumped off the step. “ Want to go on a Butterbeer?”

“ With you?”

“ No, with a Boggart.” he rolled his eyes and offered you a hand. “ But I would watch out those steps if I were you. Quite slippery.” he continued to mock to which you only slapped his hand away and walked forwards.

“ Capable.” you quirked an eyebrow at him and started walking backward. “ So you coming or what?”

He beamed and started walking after you but as soon as he caught up you felt a strong pain in your left shadow of the head. You stopped and squeezed your eyes shut.

“ You alright?” he looked at you and you shook your head.  

“ Yeah. Just a bit- Agh!” you fell on your knees and felt the pain grow larger by the second.

It hurt. It hurt like hell. It felt like no migraine has ever before. Was it because you didn’t take the medicine this morning? But you did it all the time and it didn’t hurt as much as it did today.

“ AGHH!” you screamed and Fred ran towards you. “ It hurts! “ you said and held to your head. It wasn’t just the left shadow, it was right as well, and the back of your head.

“ What does?!” he asked and you kept letting out sounds of pain.

“ My head! It hurts!” you took a hold of his arm and squeezed it so tightly that he was the one letting out a moan of pain.

It hurt. You wanted to die how much it hurt.

“ (y/n)! Calm down! You’re making it rain.”

“ Can’t you see I can’t!!” you screamed at him and the pain enlarged itself twice as more that you were now crying. “ What did you do to me, Weasley!” you blurted out without thinking and now gripped the cold snow beneath you.

“ What?” he stared at you with bewilderment and a few more figures ran outside where they heard screaming.

McGonagall came kneeling down to you. “ Miss (y/l/n). What’s wrong?” she asked worriedly and you now grabbed her arm, squeezing it tightly.

“ Aghh! It hurt- it hurts!” you sobbed and she took hold of your hand.

But by now you were in so much pain that you didn’t know what you were saying. It just hurt so much and you couldn’t do anything about it. “ It’s all your fault!” you screamed at the red-head. “ You and your stupid Bludger knocking me off my broom!” you continued to shout while Professor McGonagall kept saying something. But the pain hit and you continued to scream at him. “ You ruined me!” you shouted and it started to pour rain.

“ (y/n). You’re causing a storm.” she spoke but you continued to stare at the redhead, your eyes completely filled with tears of pain.

“ I don’t care! He ruined me!” and so you turned away and started to breathe quickly, almost falling out of breath.

You felt a hand take a hold of your shoulders and you turned around to see gorgeous emerald eyes. “ (y/n)! What’s wrong?”

“ Harry! It hurts.” you wrapped your arms around him and hugged him tightly.

“ It’s just a headache, (y/n). You’re strong. You can take it.” he spoke in your ear but you couldn’t hear it. The storm raged and the lighting became stronger. “ (y/n), you’re making a storm!” 

“ I DON’T CARE!” you screamed. Your brain was beating as fast as your heart. It felt like your head was about to explode inside your skull. It hurt and all you hear was muffled voices and a beeping sound like a bomb was about to go off.

And when there was no more pain you could take, it all went dark.

[the-observant-frisbeetarian]

Chapter 2

We’ll Meet Again by George deValier

Bright sunlight crept under Arthur's eyelids and forced them open. He groaned loudly and threw the blanket over his head to block it out. Weeks of overcast days and it had to be sunny on this one. Arthur clasped his head in his hands and tried to stop it exploding. Why the hell did he feel so… Suddenly the memory of the night before hit him like a fist, his stomach turning violently. What had he done? What had he said? Oh God how had he ended up in bed without his shoes and… Arthur quickly patted himself down and thankfully found his clothing intact, although he had lost his tie, apron and shoes somewhere along the way. He buried his head in the pillow and tried not to scream. Well that was the last time he would ever see that bloody American… but that was a good thing, yes? Arthur only felt sick at the thought. But that might also be from the copious quantities of rum he'd consumed the night before. What on earth had he been thinking?

Well, to be completely honest, he knew what he'd been thinking. He'd been thinking that Alfred was the most handsome man he'd ever laid eyes on. He'd been thinking that no one else in the world laughed like him, spoke like him, smiled like him. He'd been wondering what the hell a handsome, popular, confident young fighter pilot like Alfred was doing wasting his time talking to a boring old bartender like him. And he had drunk heavily to try and make sense of it, obviously scaring Alfred off in the process.

Trying to throw it all out of his mind, Arthur dragged himself out of bed to begin getting ready for the day ahead. It wasn't like he had never dealt with a hangover before. It was just the sudden memories that kept appearing unbidden… Alfred grinning and winking, Alfred leaning towards him, Alfred laughing, Alfred carrying him… "AGH!" Arthur tried to shake his head of the unwanted recollections. They just grew stronger, replaying over and over. Arthur decided there was nothing to be done but get dressed, go down to work, and forget he had ever met an American pilot named Alfred F. Jones.

The morning passed uneventfully. A few Americans came in for an early lunch with local girls on their arms, but the place was generally quiet. Arthur gave thanks for small mercies and spent his time avoiding a certain table by the window, while running a cold cloth over his forehead when no one was looking.

At noon, Arthur stood behind the bar, the cold cloth over his face, working hard on erasing the last week from his memory when it was all blown to hell by two words.

"Howdy, Arthur!"

Arthur jumped in surprise, the cloth falling to the floor. He looked up at Alfred, his face dripping, his heart suddenly thundering in his chest. All he could think to say was, "Good God man, do you have to yell so loud?"

Alfred looked amused. "I didn't yell…"

Arthur pressed on, slightly embarrassed. "Well I just have this flipping great headache…"

"Yeah, I'm not surprised," laughed Alfred. Arthur glared at him and Alfred cleared his throat. "So anyway," he continued, leaning on the bar, "I was thinking, that if this relationship is ever gonna go anywhere, we'd better start seeing each other in the daytime."

"Relationship?" Arthur's head still felt fuzzy… he must have heard that wrong.

"Show me the sights of London!" Alfred was all intensity and eagerness, dressed immaculately in his military uniform and cap along with the ever-present bomber jacket. Arthur tried very hard not to acknowledge the effect it had on him and tried instead to look annoyed.

"What? I'm working, I'm… I'm…"

Alfred grinned. "It's a beautiful sunny day out there, you're gonna spend it all in here with a cloth on your face?"

Arthur closed his eyes. Why could he not resist that bloody grin? "Very well," he said through gritted teeth. "Let me fetch my coat."

An hour later they had hardly seen anything of interest in Arthur's mind, but Alfred was fairly hopping in excitement. As they stood on the deck of a river boat crossing the Thames, Arthur was quickly growing embarrassed by all the stares the energetic American drew from fellow passengers.

"Wow, wow, oh my gosh! What do you call that thing again?"

Arthur peered sideways at Alfred pointing madly. "London Bridge."

"Wow!" Alfred's face lit up like a Christmas tree as he craned his neck looking upwards.

Arthur could not see why Alfred was impressed. "…It's just a bridge."

"It's LONDON bridge!" Alfred cried excitedly. "Like that song! You know… London Bridge is falling down, falling down, falling down, London Bridge is…"

"Yes, yes all right, for heaven's sake…" Arthur tried to quiet Alfred as his raucous singing caught the humoured and surprised attention of several onlookers. "I know the blasted song."

"Are we hopping off over the river? Where are we going next? Can we see the bridge closer? I tell ya, all this walking is making me hungry." Alfred pulled something out of his pocket and starting unwrapping it. Arthur groaned when he realised it was a chocolate bar. He put his hand to his head, exasperated, and hoped the other passengers wouldn't notice.

"Alfred."

"Hmm?"

"You're eating chocolate."

"I know. Do you want some?" Alfred held out the bar.

"No… I…" Arthur didn't know quite how to tell Alfred that he was being rather rude considering everyone in Britain had been on sweets rations for years. He leant in and whispered. "We've been at war for quite a while here. Things like this are very hard to come by for us."

"Ohh," breathed Alfred, his eyes going wide. He glanced around guiltily. "I have more, should I offer everyone else some?"

Arthur almost laughed, but quickly stopped when he realised Alfred was serious. "Wait, Alfred, what are you…"

"Greetings folks!" Alfred turned and called out cheerfully to the passengers behind him. Arthur was horrified as everyone stared openly, obviously unsure what to make of this loud, strange American. "I'm Lieutenant Alfred Jones, all the way from the US of A, and I just wanted to say that I'm honoured to be here in your terrific city! Now I'm hoping some of you fine people can help me out with a small problem I have. You see, I'm shipping out soon to fight the Krauts in Italy, and I have all this candy I don't know what to do with!" Alfred pulled out a handful of chocolate bars, attracting the immediate attention of several small children who inched closer.

"Candy?" asked a little girl, tilting her head in confusion.

Alfred shot Arthur an inquiring look. "Sweets," Arthur managed to murmur in bewildered explanation.

Alfred turned back to the girl, laughed raucously, and explained, "That's what we Americans call sweets! Now I don't know what might happen if I took these sweets over to Italy with me..."

A little boy gasped and said, "The Krauts might steal 'em off you!"

Alfred gasped also, his expression drawn in mock horror. "They might, too! Well, we can't let that happen can we?"

The children shook their heads, moving slowly towards Alfred, their eyes fixed on the chocolate in his hands. Arthur's face was frozen in shock, as were some of the passengers'. Others, however, were smiling, a few of the women were giggling to each other, and the children were positively enthralled.

"Do you think you might be able to help an ally out and take 'em off my hands?" asked Alfred, smiling widely and offering the chocolate bars to the children. "It's really good... Hershey's, all the way from America!" Each of them took a bar, giggling happily, before running back to their parents. Alfred tipped his hat to his gawking audience. "Have a good day, folks!" He turned back around and winked at Arthur.

Arthur shook his head. "You're quite mad."

Alfred just laughed, then pulled another bar from his pocket. "I saved the last one for you."

Arthur could not stop his lips pulling into a smile. He tried in vain to furrow his brows and wipe the smile from his face. "Fine." He snatched the bar and jammed it in his own pocket.

"I like that," said Alfred, staring at Arthur.

"What?" asked Arthur huffily. How bloody irritating that he could not even control his facial expressions around the American.

"When you smile."

Arthur cast his eyes out at the river, the smile finally falling from his face and the back of his neck flushing with heat. They stood in silence, but he could feel Alfred's eyes on him for the rest of the short journey.

"What is that tall bridge over there?" asked Alfred, after they had arrived at the port across the river and walked a while along the bank. It was the finest day in months, the sun high and a gentle breeze blowing. It was hard to believe it was winter - Arthur could not ever remember a milder one in London.

"That there is Tower Bridge."

Alfred's face lit up again. "That one is terrific!"

"And that is the Tower of London," said Arthur, pointing over the street.

"Ooh, fantastic!" cried Alfred. They stopped and stared over at the imposing buildings. "What's in there?"

"German prisoners of war, currently. And traitors, and enemy spies." Arthur wracked his brains to think of what else they were keeping in the tower these days. "And, uh… ravens."

Alfred looked truly fascinated. "Ravens, really?" He looked around eagerly. "Is there any way we can get in there?"

"Well, there is one." Alfred raised his eyebrows inquisitively and Arthur smirked. "Betray Britain."

Alfred's face fell in disappointment. "Oh. I don't think I want to do that. Even to see the ravens."

"Oh, the ravens aren't the most interesting thing about the place," said Arthur.

"Really?" asked Alfred, intrigued. "What else is in there?"

"Ghosts," said Arthur wickedly. He gazed across at the tower as he spoke. "The Tower of London is the most haunted place in Britain, if not the entire world. There are dozens of ghosts in there… Lady Jane Grey, the Princes in the tower, Sir Walter Raleigh…" Arthur found ghost stories fascinating, and he'd always loved the ones about the tower. "On stormy nights, the ghost of Anne Boleyn is said to walk the tower, dressed all in white and carrying her severed head under her arm…" Arthur turned to find that Alfred was no longer standing beside him. He looked around, confused. "Alfred?" He walked a few paces before spotting Alfred further down the road, leaning against a tree and looking like he couldn't breathe. Arthur gasped and ran to him. "Blimey man, are you all right?" he asked, concerned by the pale green colour of Alfred's face.

Alfred looked up with wide eyes, clutching his chest, sweat beading his brow. "I… don't… like… ghosts!"

Arthur tried not to, but he burst into hysterical laughter. They quickly left, steered away insistently by Alfred, who kept glancing back fearfully as though the ghost of Anne Boleyn was on his heels. Arthur had been happy to walk along the river, but Alfred was desperate to get far away, as fast as possible, and headed straight for the nearest bus stop. Arthur couldn't stop snickering… the loud, brash, swaggering American was afraid of ghosts.

Alfred seemed to get over his terror rather quickly however, and whistled as the red double-decker pulled up at the bus stop. "Wow! It's one of those super tall ones!" he said as he swung himself up onto the platform. "Howdy, Miss." Alfred tipped his hat to the pretty young conductor who giggled and smiled at him. She barely even looked at Arthur as he purchased their tickets.

Arthur made his way into the crowded bus. Finding an empty seat, he was just about to sit down when he realised Alfred was, once again, nowhere to be seen. "What now?" he muttered, then winced when he heard a familiar loud voice shout down the stairs.

"Hey Arthur! There's a whole other bus up here!"

Arthur felt every passenger's eyes stare at him. He smiled apologetically. "Sorry. Uh… he's American." Arthur hurried up the stairs. He proceeded to spend the rest of the drive trying to get Alfred to sit down, apologising to the other passengers, and on one occasion having to haul the stupid Yank back into the bus when he tried to lean out the window to shout a greeting to some American soldiers on the sidewalk. Arthur was relieved when they finally reached their destination, though probably not so relieved as the other commuters.

It was difficult to keep up with Alfred. Arthur didn't know where he got his energy from, but it was endless. He tried to keep pace as Alfred barrelled down the busy streets, weaving amongst the mass of pedestrians, talking non-stop as he went.

"I've really never been in a city this big before, you know? This place is huge! I mean, I was in New York, but not for long, before we shipped out. Now that was one wild city! I'll take you there after the war, Arthur. We'll see it all together. And then I'll show you where I live. It's only a small town… we don't have nothing so fancy as all this, but you'll really love it, Arthur, I know you will."

"I… I…" Arthur was a little thrown, unable to believe Alfred, and unsure whether he wanted to. "That's rather a long way to go, isn't it?"

"Nah, it'll be fine! I'll fly you there in Lady Beth!"

Arthur raised his eyebrows skeptically. "I don't think your plane will make it from England to America, Alfred."

"'Course she will!" Alfred grinned, and even in this bright, busy street, Arthur felt his breath knocked from him. That bloody grin.

"And how will… um… 'she'… manage that?" Arthur was caught in Alfred's gaze as they walked, unheeding of the street traffic that narrowly avoided them.

"Magic." Alfred winked. Arthur stared, transfixed, until Alfred looked away and gasped loudly. "Ooh, ooh!" Alfred practically skidded to a stop, his eyes fixed upward. "I know that one!" he cried. "That's Big Bob!"

The spell was broken, and Arthur again burst into laughter. "Ben."

"Huh?"

"It's called Big Ben!" Arthur explained. "Well, actually, it's not the tower that's named Big Ben… that happens to be the name of one of the bells."

"Really? Huh. You sure know a lot, Arthur." Alfred stood stock still in the middle of the footpath, staring up at the clock tower. A busy crowd surged around him, but he didn't move.

"Alfred?" Arthur waited a few moments, but Alfred did not budge. "What are you doing?"

"Waiting for it to ding." Alfred said it like it was obvious.

Arthur did not fancy his chances of getting Alfred to move, so he simply stood still as the passing pedestrians shot them strange looks and parted around them. He watched Alfred watching the clock, until after only a few minutes it rang in the hour.

"Haha, fantastic! All righty, where to now? Ooh, can we go in that strange looking building over there?" And Alfred took off, headed towards Westminster Abbey down the road. "Keep up, old man!"

Arthur scowled. "I beg your pardon?" he called, hurrying to catch up. He was, however, grateful for the tiny break. He really was starting to feeling like an old man today.

Once inside the dark abbey, Alfred quickly lost his cheerful grin. He moved along slowly, glancing around suspiciously, pressed quite close to Arthur's side. Arthur couldn't help finding it rather amusing.

"This place is creepy," Alfred whispered nervously as they walked slowly past the low stone coffins. "There aren't dead bodies in these things, are there?"

Arthur wasn't quite sure if he was serious. They were coffins, after all. "Oh, no," he said sarcastically. "They're stone all the way through."

"Oh." Alfred breathed a sigh of relief. "Well that's okay then."

Arthur glanced at Alfred quizzically. Surely he hadn't taken him seriously... "They're coffins, of course there are bodies…" He fell quiet as Alfred tensed up again. Apparently he had. "Ah, just forget it, Alfred."

Alfred was quite insistent they leave after that. "You Brits sure are big on the scary old buildings, ain't ya?" he asked as he hurried out into the street. Again, Arthur couldn't help laughing.

The pedestrian traffic thinned as they walked further down the street. Alfred started to slow, and eventually came to a stop in front of a roped off bomb site. Only one wall of the building was left standing, fixed at a dangerously skewed angle; the rest reduced to flattened rubble around it. Alfred whistled. "Whew, the Krauts sure did a number on that one."

Arthur nodded. "Quite. We still have quite a lot of sites left like this one. From the Blitz, you know." It suddenly struck Arthur how young Alfred looked, standing there in shock, gazing into the ruins.

"Innocent people shouldn't have to go through this," said Alfred, shaking his head as though he did not understand. "Women and old people and kids and stuff. That's just not right." He turned and looked at Arthur with wide, bright eyes. "That's why I'm doing this, you know." Alfred gestured over the wreckage. "I'm gonna stop this happening here, or back home, or anywhere else. Because we're the good guys, Arthur. I'm gonna go to Europe and put a stop to this, you'll see. I'm gonna save London!"

And Alfred sounded so young also, like he honestly believed he could take on the world. Arthur's heart swelled despite himself. Why did Alfred have to be so naive, so good, so stupid... "Come on, Alfred. There's a lovely park just up here I want to show you."

"Oh, great!" Alfred fell briskly into pace beside Arthur, snapping back into high spirits; but he didn't have quite the same spring in his step as before.

Alfred finally slowed down when they reached St James Park. The air started to chill as they wandered aimlessly past trees and gardens and couples taking an afternoon stroll. As they passed a park bench beneath a dense, leafy tree, Alfred lightly took Arthur's arm and led him over to it. Arthur felt the touch shoot through his nerves, and was surprised by the sudden nervousness it evoked. He sat down and felt something pull tight in his pocket. Confused, he reached in and pulled out the chocolate bar Alfred had handed him earlier. "Oh," he said in realisation. "Blimey, forgot about that."

"Try it!" said Alfred fervently. "American chocolate is the best chocolate in the whole world!"

Arthur scoffed and rolled his eyes. "Is that so."

"It is! Try it! Don't you like chocolate?"

Arthur sighed wearily, ripped open the bar, and took a bite. He paused, surprised. It actually was very good. "It's passable, I suppose."

Alfred looked amusedly doubtful. "Passable."

"Mm-hm."

"That must be why you're scoffing the whole thing."

Bollocks. Arthur glared at Alfred. He hurried to finish his mouthful.

"So it's that hard to get candy here, huh?"

Arthur shrugged, discreetly wrapping the last of the chocolate in its wrapper. "Well, we're on rations. Everything is hard to get right now."

Alfred sighed and leant back, throwing his arms across the top of the bench. Arthur jumped nervously when Alfred's hand brushed his back. "You Brits have had it tough for a few years, haven't ya."

Arthur almost laughed incredulously. Alfred had no idea. "London is different now from a few years ago. So much has been destroyed. After the Blitz…" Arthur broke off and shuddered, still overwhelmed by awful memories. The dread of the coming nightfall, the evil of the air raid signal, those horrifying moments crouching in shelters and unable to sleep through the noise. The terror which quickly gave way to a numbing acceptance; never knowing what would be standing and who would be breathing in the morning. Arthur felt a brief brush of Alfred's hand against his.

"I remember seeing a film about it back home a few years ago," said Alfred quietly. "A docmenary."

Arthur tried not to laugh. It was a welcome distraction. "Documentary."

"Yeah, one of them." Alfred shook his head and stared up at the sky. "People all huddled in bomb shelters, and sirens going off, and dozens of Heinkel bombers flying over and flattening buildings to rubble - just like that one in the street before. It looked like you really had it rough."

"We did. We still do." So Alfred did know a little of the earlier war after all. His words brought back memories far too easily. "But we're strong. We made it through then, and we'll make it through now. We're British, after all."

Alfred smiled at that. "I'm starting to see quite a bit about you Brits."

"And does the American like what he sees?" asked Arthur.

"Yes," said Alfred softly, his eyes intense as he stared at Arthur. "He certainly does."

Arthur's neck burned despite the chilly wind. He dropped his gaze to his feet.

"Well, I'm impressed," said Alfred, his voice rising to its usual loud volume. "Your city is fantastic."

Arthur raised his eyes to Alfred's grinning face and smiled back. "I know."

The air was near freezing and the sun quickly descending in the sky by the time they strolled slowly passed the gates of Buckingham Palace. Alfred, as usual, looked excited and fascinated. Arthur could not understand how he was still so energetic.

"Oh, gosh! Oh, wow! That's where the king lives!"

Arthur nodded wearily. "Yes, Alfred."

"Can we see him?"

Arthur furrowed his brows, taken aback. "The king?"

"Yeah!"

"Oh yes, absolutely, I'll just trot right in and see if old George will have us for afternoon tea, shall I?"

Alfred looked gobsmacked. "You can do that?"

Arthur shook his head, partly amused, partly exasperated. Alfred obviously had a little trouble with the concept of sarcasm. "Why don't we go back to the Emerald Lion and have afternoon tea there, instead?"

"With the king?" asked Alfred eagerly. Arthur just looked at him. "Oh, you mean, obviously... right." Alfred coughed and Arthur hid a smirk behind his hand. "Well sure, Art, that sounds swell. Only, I don't actually have to drink tea, do I?"

"No. And Alfred?"

"Yeah?"

"It's Arthur."

"Of course it is."

But Arthur couldn't feel angry. Sure, he was a little tired, slightly exasperated, and quite confused as to why Alfred was still intent on spending time with him. But he was also happier than he could remember feeling in years. And he had just spent the best day of his life, in the greatest city in the world, with a slight hangover and the most interesting, wonderful, bloody frustrating American he had ever met.

.

Next Chapter

Disclaimer: This story belongs to George deValier. Hetalia belongs to Hidekaz Himaruya. I own nothing.