#and a dinky corner tower

[game-boy-pocket]

I've been decorating the space where I keep my consoles with Amiibo, figurines, action figures, and other merchandise that is relevant to the content of the console. I have my "main" collectibles shelf too, so i'm really only using characters I have multiples of, or characters that don't fit on the shelf.

The very toppest tier is my Wii shelf, though i'm honestly also counting it as Gamecube. I'm trying to represent New Super Mario Bros but it's missing yellow Toad. Wind Waker, Metroid Prime, and Sonic Adventure is repped here... also my Universeal Studios dancing piranha plant, mostly because I have nowhere else to put it.

My NES Shelf has classic Link and Mario, Ice Climbers, Little Mac, ROB ( because i'll never likely be able to get a real Rob ) the Duck Hunt Dog, and classic Kirby ( Though he'd probably better be displayed with Gamboy, but I have no Gameboy shelf yet. ) Also, those Battle Toads figures, which are much larger than I was expecting, and arrived super late. I was tempted to cancel the order, they were very pricy. But I got attached. I wonder if they'll ever release Pimple... oh yeah, and the NES controller Piggy Bank. There's also some classic Donkey Kong decal my brother got me from a game stop.

My N64 shelf which is the most crowded ( also I need to dust my N64. Despite the way it looks, i've been playing it quite a bit lately. ) I got the Banjo and Conker Totaku, and and OOT Link figure. Yoshi representing Yoshi Story, and the Hot Wheels Diddy Kong as a makeshift Diddy Kong Racing figure, though the kart is all wrong. I put Gruntilda back there because of the actual Gruntilda doll in both Banjo games, she also turns up in a lot of the BK mods I love playing. But she takes up so much space I may need to relocate her until I get a bigger room and more shelving... whenever that may be. I kind of want to put all the N64 era Taco Bell toys on this shelf but there is no room, also, I don't have any of them, they all seem relatively cheap to get on E-bay though, with the exception being the Yoshi. It's just as well because that Yoshi looks more SNES era anyway...

And then you have my sad, sad SNES shelf... Classic Yoshi. Donkey Kong. And Ness. Really not sure what else I can even do for this shelf without removing a character I don't have doubles of from the main shelf. I do have a Geno Doll that I ordered off Etsy on the way, or at least it should be on the way in February or March. He'll spice it up a bit. What SNES specific stuff could I put here though? I know Jakks Pacific made Star Fox toys but they're all kind of big, and are closer to the N64 designs than their SNES versions. There's criminally no ALTTP figures that I am aware of.

In the future I'd like a shelf for handhelds, a Sega Genesis, and a Playstation, they hopefully won't be difficult to decorate, and hopefully by then, I won't be stuck using this tiny corner tower, so i'll have more room. I also would like a shelf for my Switch, which is currently just sitting next to my PC monitor.

[orcelito]

Been finishing up act 2 of bg3. It's a good thing I find the battle systems so fun bc Hoo Boy there sure do be battles

[k-n0-x]

ˏˋ°•*⁀➷Sandy dunesˏˋ°•*⁀➷

A/N: HI GUYS SORRY FOR BEING SOOOO INACTIVE. @lucifers-personal-cum-dump GAVE ME A REQUEST A VERY LONG WHILE AGO AND NOW IT’S FINISHED RAAAAAH

ˏˋ°•⁀➷ੈ♡⸝⸝🪐༘⋆ˏˋ°•*⁀➷

“Are you ready to go now sweet pea?” Lucifer knocks on the bathroom door, and you open it.

“Yeah, just give me a second!” You reply as you apply hellcream on your front, arms and face.

“Can you help me put some on my back?” 

Today was the hottest day in Hell, so Lucifer and yourself decided to spend the day on Hell’s “best” beaches.

“Of course,” You ignored his smug tone as he spread the sun blocker with his palms. 

Him being the King of Hell, he is very much inured to the death  rays of the hellish sun that burned the sinners.

“You know~” His delicate hands trace towards the scars just below your lower chest.

“We can have our own fun day inside,” 

You ponder for a few moments, not understanding  his innuendo.

“Nah, we should go out. You have not gone outside in a while. Besides-” you put your hands on either side of his face.

“It’s a good opportunity for bonding time,” 

He sighs into the warmth of your hands.

“Alright, if you insist”

˚₊· ͟͟͞͞➳❥໒꒱🌱⠈⠂⠄ ��𝟹 🚞〃 ˝˚₊· ͟͟͞͞➳❥

“See Lulu, ain’t too bad, right?” You gaze on the sultry red sand beneath your feet, and then to the lapping teal waves.

“You got that right,” he replies, but he wasn’t looking at the scenery.

“Come onn, knock it out!” You bump into his side, grinning all the same. 

Something catches your interest from the corner of your eye.

“Ooooh, Surf boards! I’m going to get one, okay babe?” 

“Alright. Don’t take too long, okay?” Lucifer stands on his tiptoes and pecks the nape of your neck, a comical sight, you towering over the King of Hell.

“Don’t worry, I won’t!” You tredge to the stall which is selling surfboards.

The dinky booth was unoccupied, with a vandalised sign, and one of the surf boards were snapped in half.

You lean over the countertop and scrummage around for one that is in decent edition, when a calloused hand snaps to your shoulder.

“‘Ey,” 

You turn around and quickly produce an apology.

“Oh! Sorry I didn’t realise that this was your stall- I was planning to put it back when I’m done I promise!” You wince. This was gonna be roug-

“Nono, it’s nothing, really. You can keep the board,” The voice rumbles from the thuggish broad demon.

“Woah really? Thank you!” Score!

“It’s no problem. You’re quite the smokeshow,” 

“Aw thanks! You don’t look too bad yourself,” You smile at the big fella leering at you.

“Say, how about we blow this joint and go somewhere else?” 

“I think not buddy!” Lucifer’s voice rings in your ears.

“Huh? Oh, hi LuLu. This guy wants to hang out with us! I hope you don’t mind?” 

The Demon King’s nostrils flare.

“I’m pretty sure this guy wants more than ‘to hang’ out with us. So, yes, I do mind quite a bit,” 

“Oh uhh, on second thought, I have somewhere to be,” your heart drips in embarrassment as the sinner turns and dead runs the other way in fear of being in the presence of Lucifer Morningstar. 

Lucifer starts to ramble after seeing your sullen expression.

“Hey don’t look so down. I- I actually have something planned for us, which is uhhh-” he looks at his wrist, like there was a watch telling him the time.

“In about five minutes!” 

You squint your eyes at his sheepish grin.

“And how come you didn’t tell me this? I would’ve brought more suitable attire,” You retort, earning yourself at the sight of him flushing an embarrassing shade of red. 

“Well, uh…. I wanted it to be a surprise?” His display of improv is impressive.

Nonetheless, you kick the sand beneath you both.

“I wanted to go surfing though,” you sigh dejectedly.

Your sullen face was too much for your darling Luci to bear.

“Oh- don’t worry, you can! We can basically go anytime we want! Besides, I’m great at squeezing things in~”

“Okay buddy,” you nudge him, rolling your eyes.

˚₊· ͟͟͞͞➳❥໒꒱🌱⠈⠂⠄ ‹𝟹 🚞〃 ˝˚₊· ͟͟͞͞➳❥

Ahh. The way the dry air whistles in your ears as you swerve across the ripples of water is just- otherworldly.

Not to mention the frequent wave that you absolutely shred. The adrenaline that pumps through your veins is almost addictive.

Who knows? You could probably compete in surfboarding competitions and come out on top each and every time.

Lucifer, on the other hand-

Well, he’s trying his hardest, and that’s all that matters. Right?

You giggle when the most recent wave of water submerged your devilish partner. 

He emerges from the water, with sunken eyes, and a not-very-amused expression.

“Ugh, this is so embarrassing. Oh look, even you’re laughing at me,” he folds his arms.

“Don’t take it personally, love,” you reply, hugging him from the back.

“Darling, I’m the King of Hell! I’m not taking anything personally,” he grumbles earnestly.

“Oh? Is that so? Well, if I kissed you now, you wouldn’t take it personally? Especially me, your partner?” You feign sorrow, when the King’s eyes dilate.

“What? No, it’s not like that-” His voice cracks.

“Oh, who am I kidding? Of course, a lowly sinner like me isn’t even worthy of being graced in the presence of the King of Hell,” your voice drawls, taking on a dramatic tone.

“What?” The pain in his voice and his eyes dilating with sadness fills you with guilt immediately.

“Wait no, baby I’m sorry I didn’t mean that, I was just joking like I always do-” You squeeze your arms around Lucifer.

He sighs into your touch. “It’s alright, but please don’t do that again?”

“I promise, I truly, truly, don’t mean it,” You rub his rosy cheeks either side of his face with your thumbs.

Lucifer takes your hands and kisses into them. “God, I love you so much. I will never let anyone take you from me,”

Your lips break into a great grin.

“You don’t know how much power you have with that smile,” 

Your face contorts into a question mark.

“What, do you mean?”

“Darling, those toothy grins could break so many hearts. The guy on the beach-” He hesitates. Maybe he was just over-reacting. Maybe that specific sinner wasn’t trying to do anything…

Lucifer continues, “Well, I’ve just noticed that when we ever go out, you get hit on a LOT, and I’m sorry if I might be making a big deal out of nothing, but the thought of you leaving scares me so much, and, and-” Thoughts whirl around in his brain that couldn’t be properly computed into words.

You, however, stay beside him and listen until he’s finished before putting out your own.

“Lulu, first, thank you for telling me this. I truly, truly didn’t realise how forward some people have been with me. I thought they were just being polite, but I realise the place we live in is quite devoid of that behaviour, though that’s not really an excuse. What I can say for a fact is that I’ll never trade you for the world. The acceptance and love you give me is something priceless that I never want to be taken from me,”

“How did you ever not go up to Heaven?” He sniffs, a happy tear rolling down his cheek.

You wipe it away. “I don’t know, but I’m glad I didn’t,”

“I’m glad you didn’t too,”

ˏˋ°•⁀➷ੈ♡⸝⸝🪐༘⋆ˏˋ°•*⁀➷

~1,236 words

[myapathyhaspeaked]

Platonic Sides Week Day 4: Inside Jokes

Back in the day, yearly Halloween decorations were less holiday fun and more a force of nature. The Core Sides would wake up on October first to find the Mindscape common room covered in gore and grime. Blood seeped from the floorboards, and impressions of haunting faces were pressed into the wall. Posters for horror movies were plastered all over, and cobwebs crowded each corner. It was the result of Virgil and Remus sneaking in late at night. Inspired by Virgil listing off the scariest things he could think of, the Duke would bring it all to metaphysical reality.

But then Virgil was accepted, and instead of ambushing them, he was invited to collaborate with Roman. The decor wasn’t nearly as scary, now consisting of cheery jack-o-lantern lights and plastic skeletons, but now that they had more than a late night raid to set up (and Remus wasn’t involved) it was a lot more cohesive, and the others could tell that real thought was put into how it was all arranged. Unlike before, when it looked like the Exorcist throwing up everywhere scene equivalent of a Spirit Halloween. It was also a lot more relaxing for Virgil, who didn’t have to face the consequences of telling Remus of all people (why did he used to think that was a good idea?) what he saw as shit-your-pants worthy the morning after. And despite what one might expect from someone who loved making himself a nuisance and inviting himself where he wasn’t welcome, Remus didn’t crash the decorating or switch out the cartoony ghost banners for goopy intestines. He just went back to his tower in the Imagination, and did his worst.

Because of recent “developments”, they were now making an effort to not force any Side out (though some were more excited about this prospect than others). Since Halloween was soon approaching, Virgil had hesitantly decided to dig up an old tradition, and invited the Duke to join Roman and him in decorating. After all, with two Creativities bouncing ideas off each other and two safer Sides to keep His Disgrace in check, it had to turn out great, right?

Yeah that silly idea was thrown out the window as soon as the twins’ opposing tastes lead to them butting heads.

“Why the hell would I use plastic knives? This isn’t a school cafeteria, I’m using high-quality, stainless steel, blood covered knives!”

“You’d use plastic knives because we don’t want someone to poke their eye out!” Roman argued. In his defense, he wasn’t suggesting they use the dinky plastic knives found in fast food restaurants that can’t actually cut anything, but plastic molded to look like the kind of bloody knives you’d see in cartoons, with bright red blood painted onto a right triangle on a stick. 

“Maybe you would, but I have some goddamn artistic integrity. The glorious season of Halloween deserves nothing less than real knives.”

Having had enough, and really needing a hand with hanging up the witch on a broomstick, Virgil decided to get involved (which was never a good idea, but being smart was Logan’s job).

“Yeah, because we totally want a repeat of Crochet Night,” he interrupted with a snicker as he struggled to get a loop of string onto one of the hooks they’d stuck onto the ceiling. It didn’t help that he really didn’t feel safe standing on a chair for this, so he was shaking a bit.

“Crochet Night?” Roman asked, interest evident in his voice, because one would assume that crocheting was a very mundane activity, the kind of thing you’d expect grannies to do while talking about the latest bingo game. But the combination of yarn, needles, Remus, free time, and perhaps a lack of supervision had some interesting possabilities, and he was intrigued.

“It’s a long story,” Virgil answered, and he wasn’t lying. It would be a task of its own to even describe the end result.

“Yeah dude, get your own fucking noodle incident!” Remus jeered, stabbing some rusty nails in the wall to hang decorations from. The nice thing about the Mindscape was that they didn’t have to bother finding a stud.

“Excuse me, Rudey Gloom and I have so many ‘noodle incidents!’ Just last week was spaghetti Sunday!” the Prince protested, and Virgil just shook his head and went back to trying to hang the witch (because that’s how it actually happened). He’d explain it later.

It was a while later, and they were debating if adding fake eyeballs to the blood red Hawaiian punch was too much. In Remus’ opinion, there was no such thing as too many eyeballs, but the others didn’t fully trust him not to put in real ones. Maybe one of two though, ones that they verified were just ping pong balls or something before they were put in, that might be fun.

One might think the first week of October is too early to start putting out party snacks. But since food in the Mindscape didn’t expire unless they (just Remus really) wanted it to, a table of them served just fine as decoration.

“We could make them outta jelly, then it would be like eating an actual one.”

Roman cringed at his brother’s suggestion, before hiding his face behind a sip from a red solo cup. Yes, like in the movies.

“I’m pretty sure you’re the only person who’d want that,” Virgil said, setting down a tray of those sprinkle covered sugar cookies that have pictures of pumpkins and ghosts on them.

“You say that,” the Prince replied, looking more excited than the situation called for.

“You say that,” Virgil mirrored, laughter barely contained by the grin on his face.

“What the fuck are you two saying?”

“Oh, it’s uh…” he trailed off, because really to understand he’d need to explain about five weeks’ worth of context, the history of ferrets, and the plot of an obscure kids’ show episode.

“You had to be there, Angus Boredom!” Roman boasted, gesturing his solo cup at his brother. Remus groaned, wanting more than ever to know what that was all about now that he was being denied the knowledge.

Several minutes later, Virgil gawked when he walked in with paper mâché supplies to see the twins working together to stick spooky gel stickers to the ceiling. Them working together for once wasn’t what he was reacting to, though that was also unusual. No, the real weirdness was that Roman was sitting on his brother’s shoulders.

“Hey Emo,” Remus waved, causing Roman to brace himself against the ceiling so he wouldn’t fall off. “You got the sauce?”

“For the last time, glue is not a condiment. And what are you two doing?”

“Uh, isn’t it obvious?” Roman asked as he removed the backing from a squishy spider sticker. “We’re putting up stickers. They glow in the dark, it’ll be fabulous!”

“I can see that, I’m not blind,” he rolled his eyes. “Couldn’t you use a ladder or something?”

“Nah, do you know how many people die from ladders? This is much safer,” he answered, and normally Virgil would argue that there was no way that was true. But really? They were quite good at it. Roman could stretch and reach and maneuver however he needed to, and Remus had no problem adjusting so they didn’t come crashing down. And, as long as he was given a bit of warning, Remus could stroll over to where they needed to be next and Roman wouldn’t so much as sway, balancing himself with his twin’s gait. It was obvious they had done this before. Multiple times.

“When did you even learn how to do that?” he queried, because before Remus revealed himself to Thomas, a majority of the interactions he used to see between the Creativities consisted of medieval duels.

“Oh, well we were on this quest in the Imagination,” Roman began, and that was already a plot twist. Last he checked, each brother was banned from the other’s side unless given explicit permission to enter. Of course, that didn’t mean the rule was actually followed (it wasn’t). But before he could continue, steam started escaping from his ears.

“Unfortunately, a wizard banned us from ever saying what happened that day, so it’s a pain in the ass to explain. I’d try writing it down, but I don’t want my morningstar to be dyed pink.” Usually Remus was immune to curses, since he didn’t mind if horrible or weird things happened to him. But the bastard of a wizard had personalized the curse to do things that actually bugged him, like covering his sketchbooks in cute cat stickers. He was tempted to donate it to Patton, but the paternal Side probably wouldn’t have been too appreciative of the drawings within.

Virgil looked up from where he was spreading out a tarp in preparation for the messy craft. “So I’ll never know?” The twins just shrugged in unison.

“Eh, I guess that’s fair. Three Sides, three things we refuse to explain, all checks out.”

---

@platonicsidesweek

[scout-company]

Stellar Acclimation—Chapter 11: Going Manual

While coming down from the sudden overstimulation from peeking in the engine room leaves Scout a bit dull, the persistent echo in her brand from the ship’s ambient power still making it hard for her to focus, she still wants to explore. Just…maybe the quieter parts of the ship for now.

Besides, when she and Semyon head down the stairs and cross paths with Bronzemarch heading back up, he informs them that they still have a good few hours in hyperdrive before they jump to lower speeds. So it’s not like Scout has much of anything to do other than explore.

And Semyon is a ready tour guide. He shows her around the lounge—a long, wide, hallway-like space with multiple windows and two pairs of couches; one pair around a small table with orange and cream cushions, one pair with plush blue cushions and empty floor space between them. Scout tries one of the blue couches after moving a cardboard box aside and almost sinks into the cushion. Semyon completely sinks into it. 

Once they free themselves from the cushions—which takes more time than Scout will admit because those couches are too gosh-darn comfy—Semyon tries showing Scout the room at the end of the hallway but can’t open the door, for once. Apparently it’s the door to the captain’s quarters, but only Bronzemarch has the permissions to open it. And Bronzemarch refuses to let them in, even after the two of them conspire a futile plan or two. Darn.

After that he shows her further downstairs to what he refers to as the crew’s floor. The stairs end in another lounge-like area, with a pair of tables paralleling some of the steel wall panels instead of an array of couches. And opposite the tables, where the floor raises a step, is a small kitchen that catches Scout’s attention briefly before she realizes all the fridges are empty. There’s another door behind the kitchen, which Semyon opens briefly enough to reveal another orange-lit room he claims is just more storage, but it’s too close to another engine room for either of them to want to peek in. Instead Semyon leads her back down the other way, past the tables and past another raised portion of the floor to an open room.

There’s fewer windows on this floor of the ship—two of them flank the kitchen, two flank the small lounge area, just behind the tables. And the last two flank this room, both framed by two stacks of bunks. The bunks’ frames are sturdy steel while their sheets are the same color of bright orange that unites the ship. All are put together neatly as if intending to be used by new people after their old occupiers moved away. 

“And this is the crew’s quarters,” Semyon announces as he welcomes Scout into the open room, “It’s where the rest of the crew used to stay.”

“Mighty cramped, ain’t it?” Scout fizzes as she peeks into one of the bunk compartments. There’s enough room for someone to maybe sit up, but not much more vertical room than that. At least they look almost long enough for her to fit on the bed without her feet dangling a bit over the edge like they do on her bed in Bronzemarch’s shack. 

Semyon shrugs, “A bit. I always thought they were cozy, but they are kinda small,” while he heads to one bunk in particular, the lowest bunk in the northeastern-most corner of the room. He crouches to peek into it, then looks back at Scout with a grin while he pats the frame, making the steel ring out a funny note. “This one was mine.”

“Huh.” Scout joins him in crouching by his bunk, and when she peeks in she again lights up the small compartment far brighter than the dinky LEDs embedded into the frame by the bunks’ ladders can. Still feels cramped. 

So after a moment Scout pulls her head back out and looks around again. There’s small lockers fixed aside each tower of bunks—empty like the rest of them, probably—but at the very end of the room is another door up a step. It’s a lighter color and sleeker material than the doors leading to the engine rooms; more akin to the door to the medbay, except without a window or red sign. Curiously Scout points to it and bubbles, “What’s that door go to?”

Semyon blinks away from his bunk, at her, then finally turns around to look at the door over his shoulder. “That? That’s just the bathroom,” he says simply. Then he snorts, “Not like you’d need to use it much, huh?”

Scout just starts to shrug with an amused whistle, “Jus’ gimme a towel and I’m—”

Only to be cut off when S.A.I.L. announces over the speakers everywhere, “Disengaging hyperdrive in 3…2…1…”

Scout barely registers the countdown before the ship jolts under her. Semyon remains squatted on his feet; she tumbles onto her butt with a startled pop.

As soon as the ship jolts, S.A.I.L. continues its announcement, “Hyperdrive disengaged. Approaching the Outpost in T-minus 15 minutes.”

Briefly Scout and Semyon share a look, but then Semyon grins again and notes, “Looks like we’re almost there!” while he pushes himself to his feet. After he helps Scout up, he starts to head back towards the crew lounge, but Scout instead is drawn to the nearest window. 

The ship’s thrumming and resonant power is faded in this part of the ship, but Scout can still feel it rumble beneath her fingers and softly in the core of her brand as she presses against the window. But the stars attract more of her attention.

They’re still blazing streaks outside the window as they fly through what Scout presumes is interplanetary space, streams of multicolor light against the void, but they’re not as blinding as they have been while zooming through interstellar space. They’re gentler; lazier. 

Scout finds herself staring at the shepherding streaks of light clear until S.A.I.L. announces, “We are approaching the Outpost’s gravity well. Disengaging FTL. Find the nearest handhold in 3…2…1…”

This time Scout finds a handhold—the nearest rung of the nearest bunk’s ladder—before S.A.I.L. finishes its countdown. The jolt beneath her feet is stronger than the jump to lower speeds, but at least she doesn’t tumble embarrassingly. She still gives a startled crackle and pop as the ambient volume surges briefly before calming back down to a running thrum. 

The stars are back to normal now; distant lights shining in clusters in the nebula-clouded void. Even as they move through space, approaching a large gas giant that soon dominates most of the window, the stars are now seemingly at a standstill. Just watching.

Scout tries to press herself further against the window and get a better look at the gas giant and its churning bands of clouds. But then a siren blares. Red light reflects blindingly off the window in pulses.

“What in tarnation!?” Scout exclaims, voice a shrill whistle above the wailing, pulsing siren.

“Something’s wrong!” Semyon shouts, hands over his ears and eyes wide. He looks up at the ceiling light-turned-alarm, glances at Scout, and hurries to the door. Scout scurries past him.

By the time Scout bursts past the door to the control room, Bronzemarch is already there, hand on the control console.

Just outside the window, the gas giant dominates the view, with one of its many moons partially hidden behind its bulk. But it’s distorted by some invisible mass.

And a holographic overlay across the window is blaring a warning of something incoming port-side. 

“Urgent. S.A.I.L.! Emergency maneuvers!” Bronzemarch snaps as Scout bursts into the room, Semyon paces behind her.

“Bronzemarch! What’s going on!?” Semyon gasps behind her. 

Bronzemarch only chances the briefest glance at them before summarizing, “Curt. S.A.I.L. detected a mass headed our way,” and shooting another glare at the panel closer to the entrance and ordering again, “Frantic. S.A.I.L.! Avoid it!”

In its ever-even voice S.A.I.L. retorts, “I am performing evasive maneuvers. The mass is still heading our way at 7.3 units per second. I suggest everyone hang on.”

Somehow Scout just knows the ship isn’t moving fast enough. The planet ahead of them only tilts a few too-subtle degrees. She bolts ahead, past Bronzemarch. Instinct from somewhere in her core shoves her into the captain’s seat.

“Alarmed. Scout! What are you doing!?”

“I’m goin’ manual!” she declares, hand searching across the console. So many buttons, so many monitors with words she can’t read. But there’s a familiarity in the layout as she scans across for a switch to manual. C’mon, c’mon, it’s got to be here somewhere… That’s the button for shields; it doesn’t want to engage. That’s comms. The screaming alarm’s making it hard to focus—

There! Far right switch. Scout reaches over to flip it, making all the monitors change and give more readings. Most of them irrelevant to her. But the control dial that pops up is just what she needs.

And she just needs one hand to use it. 

“Wait! Do you even know how to fly this thing!?” Semyon frets.

“We’re about to find out!”

After sliding thrusters to full, she grabs the dial and yanks it, tugging the ship along with her. She floor beneath her feet and console beneath her hand pulse and rumble as thrusters engage on full. Her chair shakes as Semyon’s hands desperately grip the back of it.

The planet outside wilts away from view as Scout yanks the ship upwards and sun-wards. The overlay still warns a collision. Need to move out of the way, back up, back up—a few more button presses engage reverse thrusters; she yanks the dial again the other way, gliding the ship through space.

“Focused. Scout! Pilot the ship to that distortion!” Bronzemarch orders, pointing at the swirl on the middle-most display that still has crosshairs focused on it.

“On it!”

Directing the ship is like gliding on ice in all directions, but somehow Scout rides it on instinct. She doesn’t spare any time to question it—just rides the instinct’s rhythm of engage thrusters, yank the dial. Evaluate the mass’s position—still incoming. Thrusters again, c’mon, c’mon…

The distortion soon dominates the window, approaching fast from above the ship, making the gas giant look twisted like a whirlpool. The holographic display across the window declares the mass passing below the ship, and also warns about the angle of entry into the distortion. But it will have to do—too close to correct angle of entry.

S.A.I.L. confirms with an even, “Approaching the Outpost in 3…2…1…”

~~~~~

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[nightingaelic]

There's a graphic novel of Fallout New Vegas called "All Roads" with a character named "Chance" who is a Great Khan. If he survived the events of the comic and became one of the Courier's companions, how would the others (+ Benny and Vulpes) react upon meeting him?

Link to the original story for the uninitiated

TW: Blood

In the hustle and bustle of New Vegas and its surrounding settlements, silence was hard to come by. The necessary chatter of commerce fell on the ears of travelers long before they arrived at their destination, drew them into the swirl of the city and the factions that rolled together and clashed over the Mojave sands.

The courier knew the sounds well, recognized the mess of voices, calls of livestock, distant gunshots and street corner criers as they passed through. The noise died, though, as they drew near. Maybe it was recognition of the messenger in the stories, the one who walked out of Goodsprings with a bullet in their head and a hunger in their heart. Or maybe it was the man who shadowed them, the scarred blonde Khan who towered above everyone else in the crowd and whose own, painful silence swallowed up life's song with nothing but a withering look and a finger on the hilt of his knife.

Arcade Gannon: The Khan warrior's presence very nearly silenced Arcade as well, the first time he laid eyes on him. It was a busy day at the Old Mormon Fort. Some kind of scuffle between the Kings and the NCR had left quite a few people in Freeside with fresh wounds, and every doctor on site had their hands full handling patients. Arcade was trying to do some medical supplies prep that nobody else had time for when someone tapped him on the shoulder, and he spun around impatiently to snap at them. There stood the courier and their sullen shadow, and Arcade swallowed his remarks. "Can I... help you?" he asked instead.

The courier jabbed their thumb at the hulking man over their shoulder. "He needs a check-up," they said.

Arcade's eyes slid hesitantly over the Great Khan, taking in the long, blonde hair, the ruddy, tan complexion, the scarred, bulging muscles under an open vest. He looked like something out of a Grognak comic. He was also holding a bloody rag to his side, growing bloodier by the second.

"Oh, for..." Arcade snapped out of his moment of masculine admiration. "Over there, sit down. Knife or bullet?"

The Khan collapsed in the indicated chair, while the courier once again answered for him. "Knife. Not too deep, but seeing as it's right next to his stomach..."

"Got it." Arcade grabbed one of the syringes from the tray he'd laid out and stuck it into the man's arm before he could protest. He pushed the man's arm up and gingerly took away the rag, inspecting the gash. "Looks like you lucked out," he mumbled, dabbing at the emerging blood. "No vitals nicked. Give it a minute or two, the Med-X will kick in and I can stitch it up."

"Thanks," the courier said. "Next time he steps in between a street urchin and an NCR soldier's blade, we'll know where to come."

Craig Boone: Boone never got a proper introduction to the courier's companion because the first time they made their way up to the mouth of Dinky the Dinosaur in Novac, the Khan saw red in more than his beret and lost control. It was all Boone could do to duck the hunting knife that was suddenly coming for his face and press his rifle up against the man's bare chest, a thin beam propped against a collapsing wall. Still the warrior came for him, his eyes flashing between images of the night watchman and the night of Bitter Springs, his teeth clenched in a noiseless snarl. It took every ounce of Boone's strength to hold him off. Not even the courier slugging the Khan in the face was enough to deter the unleashed violence, but they successfully wrenched the knife away from him and tackled him so his progress toward Boone's throat was somewhat impeded.

Boone gasped and gulped in air as the pressure of his own rifle's stock left his shoulder. "Yeah, I was there," he said, to no one in particular.

The statement renewed the Khan's vigor, and the courier that had one of his arms pinned and the other wrapped around his throat let out a cry of exasperation. "What the fuck am I missing, here? Do you two know each other?"

"Not by name." Boone took his beret off and tossed it on the floor. "But that doesn't matter much to him and his people, I expect."

Lily Bowen: The Khan didn't seem particularly bothered by the super mutants of Jacobstown, but he didn't seem particularly bothered by much beyond NCR colors. The courier left him to his own devices as they did their business, and that led him to the edge of the bighorner paddock where Lily was tending the livestock.

"Hello, dearie," the nightkin greeted him. When he didn't reply, her eyes narrowed with playful suspicion. "Oh, are we not talking to grandma today?"

The Khan shrugged, not unlike the petulant child Lily was interpreting him to be. "Naughty boy," she scolded him, then grabbed his arm and pulled him over to a pile of hay bales she had been tossing into the corral. "Help Grandma with her chores a bit, until you recover your manners."

And that's where the courier found him, after they were finished talking to Doc Henry about potential brain replacements for Rex. Chance was right next to Lily, slinging around hay bales for the bighorners like they weighed nothing while Lily filled him in on every detail of her schedule and tossed the winter feed just as easily, blissfully unaware of the man's momentarily-concealed inner turmoil. "How nice of you to join us!" Lily called when the courier put up a cautious hand to wave at the pair.

Raul Alfonso Tejada: Raul was certain he was found out when his prison cell's door was ripped off its hinges and went flying backward into the blinding Mojave sun, but the figure that stepped into the room was definitely not a super mutant. The man looked silently down at the old ghoul and his tinkering bench, and Raul gulped. "Hola."

"Don't mind him." A smaller figure stepped out of the large one's shadow. "He isn't much for conversation, but he knows how to make an entrance. We're here to rescue you."

"About time." Raul shook the courier's outstretched hand, but he kept his gaze on their companion. He took in the man's tall physique, the Great Khans leathers on his back and the track marks on his arms, and he raised an eyebrow. "Gran hijo de puta, eh? What's his story?"

The courier shrugged. "No clue. He just woke up in the same town as me and hit the road when I did. By my guess, he's got something to do with the men I'm looking for, but he's taking his sweet time telling me. Hell, I don't even know his name."

"And who're you looking for?" Raul asked, rising from his chair. "Other than me, I mean."

"A couple more like this one and a snake in a seersucker suit," the courier replied flatly, jerking their thumb back at the Khan behind them. "Come on, I'll tell you all about it on the way down this mountain."

Rose of Sharon Cassidy: Cass' whiskey-soaked grin widened when she got to the front of the gathering crowd outside the outpost's bar, where a blonde bear of a man was wrestling Sergeant Kilborn in the dirt. The newcomer looked like he would gladly rip out the sergeant's throat if he got him in a lucky hold, but Kilborn was holding his own for the moment, tossing verbal jabs at his silent assailant. "Fucking Khan," the glorified sentry swore, then spat into the dirt between them once they broke apart for a beat.

This incensed the blonde giant, who roared unintelligibly and jumped atop Kilborn, pummeling his face with fists rivaling a super mutant's. The primarily NCR crowd grew agitated at the sight, and someone shoved a Mojave Express courier out into the center. "Collar your dog!" someone else yelled.

The courier's eyes met Cass' gaze for a second, and Cass took the opportunity to hold up her bottle of liquor in a silent toast. The courier rolled their eyes and grabbed the Khan's shoulders, throwing him off balance enough to topple him from his seat atop Kilborn. When it looked like the courier's companion might escape their grip, Cass thrust her whiskey into the hands of the man next to her and jumped in as well, helping to lay the Khan out flat long enough for Kilborn to escape.

"Thanks," the courier said breathlessly, while the Khan roared in anger beneath their hands. "Your sergeant made some comments that he couldn't ignore."

"He's not my sergeant," Cass corrected them, before reaching her own hand out to shake the courier's. "Pleasure to make your acquaintances, you made tonight a mite more interesting than it was originally shaping up to be. Now I've got to know, what kind of idiot brings a Great Khan into an NCR outpost?"

Veronica Santangelo: Veronica had never met a Great Khan before, but she'd heard plenty of stories in her travels about why they were bad news. Still, she couldn't help feeling bad for the man sitting on the edge of the overpass that wore the Khan colors, avoiding eye contact with everyone who passed him by. His companion had gone off to haggle with the trading post merchants, so Veronica made her way over and gingerly sat down by him, just out his reach. "No offense, but you look like you've traveled a long way down some bad roads," she said, taking in the knife, burn and bullet scars that peppered his bare arms. "Where'd you come from?"

The man swung his chin around to look at her, but he didn't respond. He simply studied her, and he had a haunted look about him that nearly scared the Scribe away. "Ooooo-kay then," she said, under her breath. "Um, welcome. I'm Veronica. I live in a... you know what, never mind. I'm not there much anymore, and out here's way more interesting, anyway."

The Khan's eyebrows went up, and he glanced over her shoulder. A voice behind her spoke. "Making friends?"

Veronica turned to find the courier, who had somehow manage to approach her silently with an armful of banana yucca fruit and frag mines. "I was trying to," Veronica admitted. "But I don't think he trusts me. Is it the hood, or was I too forward?"

"Ah, don't take it personally." The courier sat down on the other side of her and began stowing away their purchases. "He doesn't talk. Ever."

"Huh." Veronica looked back at the Khan, whose expression had soured a little. "Some kind of vow of silence, or did some Fiends tinker with his vocal cords?"

"As far as I can tell, his voice box is fine," the courier replied. They tapped their head. "I think the block is up here, not in his throat. Or maybe it's a conscious decision. Anyway, he'll talk when he's good and ready, I think."

ED-E: The little eyebot faltered a bit, when it first rebooted in the Mojave Express outpost in Primm, and bobbled into the courier that had awoken it and the tall man who accompanied them. The courier giggled and pushed it up and away, encouraging it to fly, but the man at their side tenderly caught the robot when it unexpectedly dropped a few inches and held it until its flight pathing had recalibrated itself.

"Huh," Johnson Nash said, when the Khan released the eyebot again. "Never known your kind to have a fondness for mechanical things."

This seemed to stump the blonde Khan, and ED-E scanned him as he stood still and pondered the shop keep's comment. Six feet and four inches tall, solid muscles, approximately 240 pounds, multiple chem addictions, PTSD. ED-E filed the information away and beeped a few times, indicating its systems were back online.

Rex: Rex studied the two figures that had come to visit the King with interest. The courier looked ordinary enough, save the heightened adrenaline in their system that usually came about when talking to the King, but the man next to them was much more interesting. He breathed loudly, which normally wasn't a noticeable trait, but he made no other noises, answered no questions and offered no words to those around him. His hands were balled into fists most of the time, as if he was holding back something in his own mind and veins that threatened to escape. His eyes flickered dangerously in his face, aflame in mistrust and anger, and his long, blonde hair was unkempt and greasy from travel and lack of care.

Though the King hid it well, Rex could tell his master was a little unnerved by the giant man, too. "Take Rexie with you," he suggested, indicating the cyberdog at his side. "I see you've got muscle to spare, but he's a good dog. You never know when you'll need one, in Freeside."

"Thanks," the courier replied, glancing up at the man next to them. "But most dogs don't..."

Rex rose and padded over to look at the silent man directly, as if to prove the courier wrong. Though he hesitated at first, the Khan reached down to place a hand on the cyberdog's brain dome.

"There you go," the King said with a smile. "Seems Rexie's not put off by your friend. Take good care of him, you two."

Benny Gecko: When the courier threw open the doors of the Tops and strolled in, pointing a shotgun into the face of anyone who tried to stop them, Benny heard the commotion and swore profusely. "What in the goddamn..."

"Hey Benny!" The courier raised the gun and fired it into the air. "We never finished our talk, back in Goodsprings!"

Benny put his hands up while his men closed in around him. "Let's keep this in the groove, hey? Smooth moves, like... smooth little... babies..."

The courier leveled the shotgun at the group of Chairmen. "Give me one good reason not to kill you."

"You want a reason?" Benny smirked, then spread his arms to indicate the bodyguards around him. "How about four? Every one of them is packing. Me too, so baby makes five."

The courier grinned. "God, I've wanted to do this for so long," they said, and the casino floor erupted in gunfire.

Benny let his bodyguards take the brunt of their anger and slipped away, ducking behind some tables to make a run for the elevators. He'd just rounded the corner, thinking he'd made it to relative safety, when a fist the size of a bowling ball came out of nowhere and knocked him flat.

The world spun, but the figure that moved to stand over him was one Benny would've recognized anywhere. He'd seen that silhouette before, seen it ablaze in the midst of a Fiend attack and seen it stretched out under the Mojave sun, a silent sacrifice to the old ways and a reminder of everything the Khans had lost. "Goddammit, I couldn't kill either of you," Benny mumbled.

The last thing Benny saw before losing consciousness was the Khan's grin.

Vulpes Inculta: The man who followed the courier at all times wasn't a Legion soldier, but Caesar's troops began to call him a Praetorian guard nevertheless. He cut an imposing figure, walking through the camp at their side with his barely-concealed anger and his muscles akin to Hercules. His muscles were a big draw in the arena, where he laid out NCR captives one after the other, working his way up to Ranger Stella with a fury that both excited Vulpes and left him curious.

Some correspondence with Karl brought him answers, which he took to Caesar at once. "The courier's companion is thought dead by his people," he informed his leader. "One of the party sent with Benny to take the platinum chip and kill the courier. He succumbed to his wounds and chems after a run-in with Fiends, and was buried near Goodsprings before the courier's own downfall."

Caesar nodded. "How did he survive?"

"That remains to be seen," Vulpes replied. "An agent of mine found his opened grave in the desert, but no clues as to who unearthed the man. The only other information to be found indicates his fondness for chems and his unnatural silence after witnessing the attack in Bitter Springs."

"He was at Bitter Springs?" Caesar smiled. "Then we can use him. Send word to Karl and Papa Khan at once: Their prodigal son has returned from the dead, and he fights for the Legion, and for vengeance."

[jellyfishloveletterghosts]

For the fanfic writer ask game: 3, 9, 16, 17

Thanks for the ask hun 💜💜😊

3 What’s a fic idea that you have but haven’t written yet?

So I talked about Drag Queen Billy in the last one, how about some Drag Queen Steve.

90's setting because I put on a play list I thought my mom would like and Sex and Candy came on.

Billy's an up and coming musician so he's been to all the parties and seen it all but that doesn't stop him from being transfixed when he sees them. Six inch heels towering over most of the party pastel patent leather dress with a big red cherry headband on top of pink curls. They're a vision and make Billy who's lactose and tolerant suddenly crave that sweet treat.

Billy sees one of his band mates talking to them and corners Tommy demanding an introduction.Tommy laughs on his face and Billy is annoyed but he drags Billy after him to that tall drink of water. Billy stands there waiting with building impatience as he stares up at them. "Hey Stevie, you remember Billy, right?"

Remember? It breaks Billy’s brain for a long minute. "Kind of hard to forget him." He knows that voice, he knows that constellation of moles that he can just finally make out under heavy dramatic makeup.

"Pretty boy?" Billy chokes out staring even harder now, more interested than ever.

"Miss me, big guy?" Steve asks with a wink, pink lips glossy as they catch the light as he smirks.

"Yeah." Billy squeaks out flushing, he usually had more cool than this.

"Yeah?" Steve asks, smile turning more genuine "how about you buy me a drink and tell me how much."

"I'll buy you all the drinks you want." Billy says holding an arm out just glad Steve seems more delighted than mocking even as Tommy and the woman at his side both snickering at Billy's overzealous display.

Just Steve becoming Billy’s muse and they keep it hush hush because it's the 90s and their public figures. Billy isn't out so they've always got someone else on their arm when they go to the dame parties and it drives Billy crazy, makes him jealous. Something Steve is definitely aware of uses it, pretends to be more interested in his dates than he is, even when he drags Carol along. She doesn't mind being a prop to wind Billy up, she finds it hilarious.

Without fail Billy always ends up dragging Steve into a closet or bathroom, sometimes even a spare bedroom if the place is particularly big. Bending Steve over the nearest surface and refusing to let him cum until he apologizes for messing with him. Steve goes right back to it as soon as he's back out, even worse than before because he's a brat and he knows Billy will do it all over again at the party if it's early, at the apartment they secretly share if not.

9 What’s your favorite line(s) or scene(s) that you have written?

I never know what to answer for this over all but a scene I'm currently really feeling this scene from Perkins' Repair Shop

“You fuck yourself a lot pretty boy?” Billy asks, stalking forward licking over his teeth undeterred by the triumph shining in Steve’s eyes.

“What else am I supposed to do in this dinky little town, it’s not like the local college boys can keep up with me?” Steve asks, batting his eyes up at Billy when he steps between his spread thighs, taking the lube from his hand. “Not everyday someone as attractive as you comes across my path.” Steve says slowly, pulling the zipper of his coveralls down.

“Hot piece of ass like you probably gets plenty of offers.” Billy falls to his knees between Steve’s thighs, the chair low enough to let him lean up and kiss at Steve’s neck. Steve squirms, working his arms out of his coveralls, Billy blindly helping by pulling at the material, dragging it down to pool around Steve’s waist.

“Doesn’t mean they're good ones” Steve pouts and Billy lurches up, the idea that he is a good one getting him right where Steve wants him and Billy does not care that he is being led. He catches that bottom lip between his teeth before pressing his lips properly against his mouth, tongue sliding over that swelling lip and pressing in, Steve’s tongue sliding against his as they kiss. “You’re going to be good to me right?” Steve asks as the kiss breaks, hands framing Billy’s cheeks and he has never wanted to be better for someone in his life than he does right now looking into those big brown eyes.

“So good.” Billy promises, kissing him again long and hard before he pulls away and working Steve’s work boots from his feet, tossing them to the side, eyes heavy on Steve “Need you to stand so we can get you out of all these clothes baby.” He tugs at Steve’s waist and he goes up easy, hands falling against Billy’s shoulder, brown eyes watching Billy as he tugs the coveralls down his legs, Steve stepping out of it without prompting. “Will you take your polo off for me?”

“If you ask nicely.” Steve says it soft, face gentle and heated as he licks over his lips, hand coming up to stroke at Billy’s chin.

Anyone else and he would rebuke them but there is something about Steve that makes Billy’s lips part on a “Please.” The smile that splits across his face goes right to Billy’s dick, bright and happy, he wants to kiss it, instead he works Steve’s tight pants open.

“So good.” Steve praises and Billy’s dick is even harder against his inseam, he barely even notices when Steve removes not one but two polos, does not even think to mock as his eyes scan up over pale mole dotted skin, he wants to trace them with his tongue.

16 How long is your longest fic?

That would be You're Extra Special, Something Else It’s 8 chapters and comes in at a word count of 94,710. Someday I fancy I might write an even longer story. I mean like an even 1m would just feel nice lol, I wrote over 4x that last year spread out among a bunch of stories so like it's not unthinkable.

17 Are there any writers and/of stories that you consider an influence?

You know I don't think so, not specifically. Fandom has a strange way of bringing out similar ideas in people whether they're directly interacting or not. Especially on Tumblr we see posts and they bring out a similar but different take in people. I'm specifically talking posts that were never meant to vibe with a specific ship and yet do. Popular yet unrelated posts come around and suddenly we're all inspired to write aus about it.

That being said, I definitely take inspiration from other writers. Sometimes it's something that I really enjoyed reading in a fic and want to see more of so I include the mannerism or whatever it is into my own stories. Sometimes I read an au form a different Fandom and I'm suddenly like I want to write this kind of au tor whichever ship I'm vibing the hardest with at that moment, usually Harringove. I think every piece of fanfiction I've ever read has helped influence me in one way or another.

Ask Me

[emsprovisions]

Hey guys! Sorry I wasn’t able to do any of the other prompts for Zoe Appreciation Week, but I definitely couldn’t miss this one for tattoo day! Hope you enjoy this fic!

Matching Tattoos

Zoe put her sock-covered feet up on Douxie's knee, taking up the residence where his guitar had just been. She put her phone down on the worn couch and looked up at her boyfriend. "Come on, D! It's our day off, let's do something fun."

"What did you have in mind, love?" Douxie put down his pencil he'd been drumming against his leg, trying hard to come up with a new song for their band. He reached for Zoe's hand instead and entwined his fingers through hers and pulled her hand up to his lips.

"Why don't we go and get matching tattoos!" She offered.

"Matching tattoos?" Douxie grinned.

Zoe rolled her eyes. "We've been together for centuries, don't you think it's time?"

Archie jumped up on the couch behind Zoe's head, nuzzling his face against her neck. "Sounds like a lot of commitment for our master wizard."

Douxie scoffed. "Sod off, Arch. My girl wants a matching tattoo, we'll get a matching tattoo." Archie scowled and jumped off the couch, retreating to his cat tower in the corner.

Brandishing her sketchbook out of thin air, Zoe flipped it open to a page of complimentary skulls, hers embossed by roses and Douxie's surrounded by thorns. "I've been designing this, what do you think?"

"Been thinking about this for awhile, love?" Douxie chuckled, tracing a finger along the lines of the sketch. "It's beautiful. Do you think it would look good here?" He gestured to his inner left arm.

Zoe lightly dragged her nails over his skin, it was one of the few spots on his arm that was devoid of tattoos. "There is perfect. I was thinking of getting mine here." She held her right wrist out to him.

"Perfect," he agreed.

"Want me to do it?" She grinned mischievously.

"Look at all your other craftsmanship, you know I trust you, Zo-Zo." Douxie rolled his shoulders, emphasizing all the tattoos peeking out of his sleeveless shirt that stretched across his back and down both his shoulders and biceps.

Zoe had a few decades worth of tattooing skill under her belt, she even used to work at a tattoo shop back in the 90s, but they stayed too young and recognizable for her to work as a tattoo artist for the long haul.

Zoe had done the majority of Douxie's tattoos. He fondly remembered being sprawled out on his stomach shirtless, his girlfriend straddled around his hips while she worked on his back piece.

"You'll need to come to my office for it babe," Zoe smirked.

Despite not being able to work as a tattoo artist, a local hedge witch had an underground office for her to keep her equipment and tat up a few Arcadian citizens in the know. Sure it was hinky dinky business but they had to afford this crappy apartment somehow.

"Only if I get a burger out of this."

"Don't you always?"

"Always, love." He dragged out the words, his voice low and guttural.

Zoe liked when his voice got deep like that, regardless of the centuries they'd spent together, her heart still skipped a beat and lodged in her throat when they were intimate with each other. However, she would never admit that out loud. She felt a desperate pining build deep in her belly. She had memorized the shape of Douxie's lips but they always felt new and exciting whenever they kissed, as if every time was the very first time they'd kissed.

She scooted closer to him, tucking her hand into his hair to pull his face to hers. They'd make it to the tattoo shop, but a good make-out sesh with her boyfriend was in order first.

Between kisses, Douxie asked her how long she'd been designing their tattoos.

"About a—mmmm—week," Zoe gasped as Douxie's lips dropped to her neck, sliding over her skin and making her whole body feel flushed.

"A week, huh?" His tongue sliced over her collarbone.

Goddamn, why did this boy make everything so sensual??

"Hisirdo--" She couldn't speak, cut off by Douxie swallowing up her words as his lips met hers once again.

He promptly pulled away, a smug grin on his lips. "Ready to go, Zo-zo?"

"You asshole!" Zoe yelled out furiously. She was definitely not ready to go nor satisfied. She grabbed her boyfriend's shirt and yanked him back to her. "I'm not done with you yet, Hisirdoux. This now, tattoos later."

Douxie just chuckled. "As you wish, my love."

@moppetwithamanbun

[adrenaline-whump]

I was recently reminded of the awesome game No Man’s Sky, which in turn reminded me of a short bit of writing I did years ago...

~~~

10394.120.49.11

Experienced captains will warn you not to head out into the black by yourself. Most people lose their minds in a couple months, sometimes weeks. Having no one to talk to messes with your brain. You start talking to your ship, talking to the stars, talking to nobody. That’s not too much of a problem, though, is it? As long as you can keep functioning.

I’m fine by myself. I talk to things that can’t talk back, but it doesn’t seem to bother them or me, so who cares? Still, I should have been more prepared before I took off into the unknown. I had my one dinky little wreck of a ship, and I was tired of being stuck on one planet, however nice it was, so I saved up some cash, bolted a hyperdrive to my wreck, and set off.  

Did you know there are actual space pirates? I didn’t, and that should give you a clue to how naïve I was. I nearly had my tail shot off more than once, until I bought some decent armament to return fire. I wasn’t expecting that to be my introduction to the universe. I’d had all these ideas about how exciting it would be to explore empty solar systems and be the first to see glorious planetary vistas.

Well…it’s exciting, all right. You don’t know exciting until you’re a mountain range away from your ship and your exosuit calmly informs you that a storm is approaching, so you spend the next several minutes running for your life, frantically looking for caves, and trying to punch repair commands into the suit.

Those alien vistas aren’t what the travel brochures advertised. OK, the brochures were all in my head, I grant you. But I was picturing strange new creatures, towering mountains, bizarre vegetation, a brilliant moonrise over a lambent sea.

So yeah, that alien sea’s beguiling glow is because it’s radioactive, dammit. The critters are strange, alright – my favorite one so far was a thing I called the pogo jelly, since it looked and acted like a very bouncy dessert. But a good number of those critters will attack you on sight, and you usually don’t know which, until one starts trying to rip through your exosuit to get to the tasty flesh inside. You start to question your life choices when you’re standing on top of your ship like an idiot, staring down at the weird things with big teeth swarming around your landing gear.

Not to mention the Sentinel problem. When I set out, I knew about the Sentinels, but I didn’t realize they’d spread to every damn corner of the galaxy. Those little floaty buggers get ticked off and trigger-happy if you start shooting critters. Or mining. Or looking at plants. Or just standing there minding your own business, in some cases. Thank god the ship is able to analyze the transmissions they use to communicate with each other. The other day, I landed on a planet, my ship told me the local Sentinels were “very aggressive,” and I took off again and named the planet “Nope Central” as it receded behind me.

There are times when I miss my first planet, to be honest. Sonora. It was dry and didn’t have too much interesting going on, but it had its own kind of austere beauty. I actually did try to go back to it, early on, but I couldn’t find it. Maybe it’s for the best.

I feel like I’m a little less naïve now. I found an interesting planet awhile back – holy balls, that place was inhospitable. I named it Hell Is Windy. Constant heat, constant storms where it just got hotter and hotter. But man, I made BANK on that planet. I bought a new ship financed entirely by my exploits on Hell Is Windy. There are times when I think I should have stayed there. But, honestly, that kind of environment wears on me more than being alone.  It’s exhausting, being constantly keyed up, trying not to make the mistake that will leave you dead on an alien planet where no one will ever find your corpse. “He almost made enough to buy that hyperdrive upgrade” would be a dumb epitaph. So I moved on.

The new ship isn’t bad – more cargo space, more guns to discourage the pirates. I keep drooling over nicer ships, but I don’t have the cash to spring for one quite yet. Actually, I’ve gone a bit in the other direction. I found a jungle world – almost what I was envisioning when I first set out. The planet isn’t constantly trying to kill me, and it’s got pretty views and all that. I’ve built myself a base of sorts. Now that I’m putting down roots, it’s time to work smarter, instead of wandering aimlessly around the galaxy. For now, anyway.

[hamburgergod]

[AO3] 

~3k, wangxian, post-canon and married fic. 

They say even rivers and mountains change after ten years so it's no wonder that things have changed since Wei Wuxian's death sixteen years ago.

Still, somehow, Wei Wuxian thinks he'll be alright.

-

It’s the fourth time that Wei Wuxian has visited Yunmeng since marrying Lan Wangji, and he’s starting to get used to all the new buildings that tower over the familiar old buildings. The main roads haven’t changed much, thankfully, but there are all these new little paths that lead to places that he’s never been in Yunmeng before, and isn’t that a thought he’d never thought was possible before?

“Wei-qianbei?” Lan Sizhui calls beside him.

Wei Wuxian blinks away from the spot where the vendor who used to give him free samples used to be, and snaps himself back to the present with a grin.

They end up in a dinky little inn near the very edge of Yunmeng, and the drizzling outside doesn’t dampen the juniors’ bubbling excitement after a successful night-hunt that had led itself to be more tricky than they’d originally thought. Wei Wuxian had mostly watched from the side like he and Lan Wangji had been doing for some time now, and that’s what he does now as he watches them celebrate in their own repressed Lan sect way, talking louder than is usually permissible and definitely not using their inside voices while they wait for their celebratory dinner to arrive. The Lan sect sure knows how to party.

Wei Wuxian also thinks the juniors would expect the red dishes by now when they arrive to the table, but some of them still groan in the most un-Lan-like way possible and Wei Wuxian has to stifle his own laughter at the sight.

“Wei-qianbei,” Lan Jingyi whines in that special way of his that makes Wei Wuxian want to reach over and ruffle his hair. “Our tongues really will burn off one day, you know?”

“It’ll strengthen your digestion system,” Wei Wuxian says sagely. Lan Jingyi rolls his eyes.

Honestly, he’s been looking forward to this one particular dish all night; a local chicken dish that’s cooked in a way that’s quite not the same anywhere else no matter where Wei Wuxian has travelled to. The anticipation that’s been building in his stomach all night tightens when they start their meal, and he picks up a bite.

There is a buzz of chatter all around him, but the only thing he can focus on is the disappointment that curdles in his chest.

“Hey, this isn’t too bad!” Lan Jingyi says beside him. “I can actually taste the food this time.” And the rest of the Lan sect juniors chip in an agreement.

“It’s delicious, Wei-qianbei,” Lan Sizhui says with a sunny smile. “Thank you for treating us.”

Wei Wuxian beams proudly, with more pride than he feels at the moment, and gestures at the rest of the table with his chopsticks. “Alright, alright. Eat up.”

It’s good food. Wei Wuxian won’t deny that; all the dishes are delicious in their own ways. Just that none of them taste the way they did sixteen years ago, with the differences subtle enough that he can almost taste the familiarity within it but significant enough that it definitely isn’t the same thing that he reminiscences after.

Ahh, it’s fine. It’s just food. Wei Wuxian might be an old man now but he hopes he’s not old enough to refuse change when it comes flying at him in the face. Maybe he just feels a little wistful, that’s all.

With a smile, he orders another round of food for the table and they clear out every last dish.

-

Lan Sizhui drags the unconscious Wei Wuxian out of bed in the most punctual manner and places him face-down on the table while the rest of the group eats their breakfast, already completely used to this sight whenever they travel somewhere. Only when he hears them all stand abruptly out of their seats does Wei Wuxian roll his head to one side out of curiosity and jolts awake at the sight that greets him. He doesn’t jump physically but it’s a near thing that he does.

“Jiang Cheng,” Wei Wuxian says slowly, letting the false cover of sleep excuse the way his mouth goes dry.

Jiang Cheng scowls down at him with a stormy frown. At least that face hasn’t changed much. The muscle in his jaw twitches as he looks over the Lan juniors. “You led a night-hunt in Yunmeng.”

Wei Wuxian supposes he should be thankful it isn’t how dare you set your foot in here?  “It’s not like that.”

Jiang Cheng scoffs. “So you just happened to be in the area?”

“Jiang-zongzhu,” Lan Sizhui greets as he meets Jiang Cheng’s glare head-on. Wei Wuxian is very thankful for this kid of theirs. “We only stopped by Yunmeng for the night while on our way back to Gusu. Our night-hunt didn’t take place within the perimeters of the Jiang sect at any point.”

Jiang Cheng holds his glare with Lan Sizhui to acknowledge that he’s heard him, looks around the inn, and back down at Wei Wuxian in disgust. “Then I suppose the hospitality at Lotus Pier isn’t good enough for you and the established Lan sect? Is that it?”

“What does the Lan sect have to do with it? I just—”

Wei Wuxian stops mid-sentence, doesn’t know how to complete that train of thought without dragging out the ugly mess between them so he doesn’t, but it’s still more than enough for Jiang Cheng to fill what’s not said on his own. Jiang Cheng’s face twists hilariously as his mouth purses into a thin line.

Wei Wuxian huffs out a laugh and gives what he hopes is a reassuring smile. “Alright, alright,” he says easily. It would’ve been so easy and natural to reach over and give him a pat on the shoulder long ago, but it’s not a gesture that Wei Wuxian can just make casually anymore. “We were on our way.”

The Lan juniors who have been watching their interaction tensely all collectively relax when Wei Wuxian says this, and they shuffle out of the way to let Wei Wuxian make his way to the front of the group and lead them away. But just as he takes maybe two steps from his seat, Jiang Cheng’s voice stops him at the doorstep.

“You come all this way,” Jiang Cheng says in that barely repressed raged way of his, “and you didn’t even stop by to pay your respect? Do you think you’re above all the responsibilities now that you’re no longer part of the sect?”

Now that’s just not fair. “Jiang Cheng, you’re being unfair.”

“Then come and pay respect,” Jiang Cheng replies with a glare and a jut of his chin. And underneath the accusation that Wei Wuxian is being disrespectful to the dead—to the dead that he’s responsible for—he realizes there might be an invitation buried in there somewhere.

So he goes.

-

Shijie, Wei Wuxian thinks as he looks up at Jiang Yanli’s name plate. The smell of incense is thick in the air from the three sticks that he’s lit, wafting its white smoke into the air. I don’t know how you ever dealt with both of us at the same time. You really were the best of the best. Lan Zhan and I are married. Jin Ling is a sect leader now and is doing well. You would’ve been proud of him.

A-Xian, he can almost hear her whisper with that fond smile reserved just for him and Jiang Cheng. Take it slow. One step at a time.

By the time Wei Wuxian emerges from the ancestral hall, Lotus Pier is bustling with activity as they set up a meal for the guests from the Lan sect. Wei Wuxian savours his walk towards the dining hall only to find no one there, and instead unused tables stacked on top of another and collecting dust in the corners of the room greet him. He stares into the room, stunned.

“What are you doing here?”

Wei Wuxian turns around with a blink. “Where is everyone?”

“The dining hall. Where else would they be?” Jiang Cheng says with a scowl. “This room hasn’t been used as a dining hall for at least five years.”

But he wouldn’t know that, would he. “Ah.”

“Well?” Jiang Cheng stands by the doorway with all the poise of a sect leader, and it’s a side of him that Wei Wuxian is still getting used to being at the receiving end of. “Are you coming or not?”

Wei Wuxian follows after Jiang Cheng to the dining hall as if he hadn’t lived half his life here and instead a stranger visiting for the first time. In a way, after all this time, he supposes he is. But why isn’t Jiang Cheng already with everyone else?

“Jiang Cheng,” Wei Wuxian wonders aloud, “could it be that you were looking for me?”

Jiang Cheng scowls. “Who would look for you?” He glances behind him to find Wei Wuxian’s frown turned into a smile, and his scowl deepens. “Do you ever shut up?”

Wei Wuxian’s smile broadens to a grin.

-

“How are you affording your travels anyway?”

“Lan Zhan treats me very well.”

“…Where is he then?”

“We’re back in Cloud Recesses now. You should see how Lan lao-tou foams at the mouth every time he sees us. I guess he still can’t stand that his worst disciple eloped with his best, hahaha!”

“…What??”

“Hm?”

“Eloped???”

“…Ahh, ah.”

“Wei Wuxian, are you telling me you got fucking married without telling me?? Are you fucking kidding me???”

A shrug. “It was a proper elopement.”

“What, so you’re not even worth a proper ceremony for the virtuous Hanguang-jun? Is that it?”

“Jiang Cheng!”

“…”

“…”

A scowl. “Well, don’t be so stupid and waste his money on an inn the next time you’re here.”

A smile. “Mm.”

-

The road to Cloud Recesses has become familiar enough for Wei Wuxian that once he gets to a certain point on the road, he knows exactly what to expect from the scenery. The river runs much deeper at one point before it shallows out again with little waterfalls cascading down a boulder. There’s a fallen log up the mountain that looks like any other fallen log in a mountain, but its presence lets him know that he’s getting close to a part of the path where it dips down before it sharply turns into a climb, which leads to a corner that he needs to turn at to reveal the stone stairs up to the gate of Cloud Recesses.

And atop those stairs waits—

“Lan Zhan!”

Lan Wangji—who was overlooking the scenery on the top of the stairs like an immovable pillar—shifts effortlessly at the sound of Wei Wuxian’s voice. They lock eyes when Wei Wuxian waves enthusiastically, and Lan Wangji walks down the stairs to meet him halfway as Wei Wuxian runs up. It’s only been five days since they last saw each other, but Wei Wuxian still greedily drinks in the sight of Lan Wangji up and down, his eyes finally resting on his face with a surge of joy that pleasantly travels through his body.

“Lan Zhan, did you wait long?”

“No.” Lan Wangji reaches over and takes a leaf out of Wei Wuxian’s hair, and lightly runs his finger down the length of his hair as he does. Wei Wuxian laughs unabashedly. “Dinner?”

“Not yet. I wanted to eat with you so I resisted eating at Caiyi!” It was also a little too early to be eating dinner when they were in Caiyi, but it’s true that Wei Wuxian didn’t snack on anything which he thinks is a huge feat on its own. Wei Wuxian sticks out his lower lip and pouts because he knows it’s a gesture that won’t go unnoticed. “I’m starving, Lan Zhan. Feed me.”

The corners of Lan Wangji’s mouth lift and the underside of his warm eyes curve as he rewards him with a smile, and it’s enough to brighten Wei Wuxian’s already good mood by a thousand suns. “Mm.”

Wei Wuxian swings their threaded hands back and forth as they make their way back to the jingshi while they chat and catch up on what’s happened in the past few days while they were away from each other’s company. Wei Wuxian happily fills Lan Wangji on what the juniors have done during the trip that merits praise and advice even if Lan Wangji will receive the night-hunt reports later and will be able to judge for himself. There is contentment settled between them that’s so sure and true that its familiarity makes Wei Wuxian’s heart ache in the best way.

When Lan Wangji brings their tray of food that he’s cooked, Wei Wuxian does not think it lightly that Lan Wangji has outdone himself tonight. Even with his limited knowledge of cooking, he can recognize that most of them take hours to make as they have to be simmered and be checked on constantly throughout the day while they cook, and some of them needing preparations the day before.

“Lan Zhan, what’s the big occasion? What is all this?”

Lan Wangji sets a bowl of rice in front of Wei Wuxian. “No occasion.”

Wei Wuxian eyes one of the dishes in front of him. It’s a delicacy that one might expect during a holiday, not during a regular sit-down dinner. Its existence on their dinner table proves the time and care that Lan Wangji put into this meal for some reason yet to be known to Wei Wuxian. Birthday? No. The day they vowed their marriage? No. Day he came back from the dead, or maybe the day he settled down in Cloud Recesses for good? No and no.

Wei Wuxian crosses his arms and hums for one more moment, his brows furrowed in deep thought, before he smiles brightly and picks up his chopsticks. “Well, Lan-er-gege has put so much effort into our dinner so I will gladly enjoy it before it gets cold!” He glances over at Lan Wangji, who’s watching him with faint amusement dancing in his eyes. “But knowing how terrible this one’s memory is, you’ll tell me if I’ve forgotten what today is supposed to be?”

“There’s no occasion,” Lan Wangji repeats with a brush of his hand against Wei Wuxian’s before he sits down beside him. Wei Wuxian knows that he’s not lying per say, but there’s definitely something he’s not saying. “Eat,” he gently commands.

“Ye-es,” Wei Wuxian singsongs and takes a heap serving of the dish in front of him.

Everything tastes as delicious as Wei Wuxian had suspected, and every bite a flavour that’s worthy of being cherished and savoured before moving onto the next dish if Wei Wuxian wasn’t in such a hurry to taste all of them. Also noted is the way Lan Wangji watches him take every bite with a set of determined eyes, swiftly placing pieces of meat and vegetables into Wei Wuxian’s bowl before his next bite of food even reaches his mouth. While this itself isn’t cause for concern as this is also a very normal occasion that happens on their meals, he seems extra determined to tend to Wei Wuxian tonight for some reason. The same reason for all the fancy food that Wei Wuxian is being spoiled with today, he assumes. Wei Wuxian compliments every single dish for its delicious flavour and excellent texture, each one holding genuine sentiment and not just for the sake of watching Lan Wangji’s eyes light up at each comment.

“That’s it,” Wei Wuxian declares after clearing out all of the dishes, slumping forward to rest his forehead against Lan Wangji’s shoulder. “I’m so full that I can’t even think.”

Lan Wangji shifts so that Wei Wuxian is properly resting his head against his shoulder without straining his neck. He wraps his arm around Wei Wuxian’s shoulder and lightly strokes his arm up and down, and it’s soothing in a way that reminds him just how tired he is from travelling the better part of the day. He sinks into the touch that smoothes out the travel weariness and its warmth has him dozing off in a few minutes.  

“That thing left residual resentful energy everywhere it went,” Wei Wuxian mumbles, his words doused with sleep. “It was a pain to clean up.”

“Mm. You did well.”

“We did do well.” Wei Wuxian’s eyes are closed, very nearly falling asleep after such a good meal and Lan Wangji a pleasant warmth that surrounds him. Even if he falls asleep like this he has no doubt that he’ll wake up in their bed the next morning. He yawns. “It led us all the way to Yunmeng by the end.”

The hand that’s been stroking his arm halts in its rhythm for one breathless second and then continues to stroke up and down as if it’s never happened, but it’s enough to reel Wei Wuxian’s attention back to full wakefulness. He cracks open his eyes to find Lan Wangji studying his face, and there is still tenderness and care in his eyes that’s also clouded with… worry?

“Lan Zhan,” Wei Wuxian says carefully, not for Lan Wangji but for himself and the revelation that he’s just had. He never knew he’d be able to feel so vulnerable and safe at the same time. He swallows down a tight lump in his throat. “Did you already know that we’d been in Yunmeng?”

Lan Wangji’s mouth sets in a thin displeased line that Wei Wuxian’s learned to recognize whenever he’s reminded of Wei Wuxian’s previous home, now a place that represents something different and perhaps the most unforgivable to Lan Wangji, it is a place that no longer welcomes Wei Wuxian as it once had. No matter how much things might change from here on out, it will never hold the same light, carefree weight that it did in Wei Wuxian’s heart.

“Sizhui sent me his report before you left,” Lan Wangji admits.

“Ah, as expected of the diligent Lan Head Disciple.”

Wei Wuxian shifts himself so he can look at Lan Wangji properly in the face which ends up with him in his laps with his arms resting on Lan Wangji’s shoulders. He cups Lan Wangji’s cheek in his hand with a soft smile. “Could it be that my dear husband was worried about me and went through all this effort to help me feel better?”

Lan Wangji wordlessly turns his head so he can lay a gentle kiss against Wei Wuxian’s palm.

“I really thought I missed an important holiday!” Wei Wuxian laughs. He feels Lan Wangji huff through his nose and smile against his palm. He slides his arms behind Lan Wangji’s neck and hugs him, and buries his face against the crook of his neck. “Jiang Cheng and I talked.”

The hold on Wei Wuxian’s waist tightens.

“Really, I’m okay.” Wei Wuxian leans back to beam at Lan Wangji fondly. “How can I not be, when the esteemed Hanguang-jun cares for me so much? My heart can’t take it!”

“Wei Ying.”

“Lan Zhaaan.” With a smile, Wei Wuxian brings both his hands to fully take hold of Lan Wangji’s face and peppers light kisses on his headband, his forehead, the sides of his eyes, his temples, his cheeks, the corners of his lips. After so many years, everything in the world that once held Wei Wuxian in its heart has shifted and changed in a way that no longer houses him as it once did and never will in the same way, and he knows that there’s no one to blame but himself for that. It would be unreasonable for him to demand no one else to move forward while he wasn’t present. But Lan Wangji has used those years to not only to change, but change in such a way that cultivates a space solely meant for Wei Wuxian to come back to with no way of knowing whether he would even come back at all. Wei Wuxian knows now that he will always have one place where he will belong should he choose it, some place to always come back to, and unsurprisingly it’s the place he’d like to be at the most. He sighs happily and slumps further into Lan Wangji’s embrace. “I love you so much, Lan Zhan.”

Wei Wuxian feels a gentle press of lips against his temple and a murmur of, “And I love you, Wei Ying.”

Wei Wuxian gives him one more tight hug in response, and gives Lan Wangji’s earlobe a nibble. Lan Wangji doesn’t jump but his body tenses around Wei Wuxian for a completely different reason now. Wei Wuxian huffs a laugh against his ear and lowers his voice to a pleasant purr, and he hears Lan Wangji's breath stutter for a split second at the sound right in his ear. “Then let me show Lan-er-gege just how much he’s been missed the past week.“

Wei Wuxian laughs delightedly into their kiss as Lan Wangji pushes them to the floor while still holding him in a tight embrace, safe and secure and sure in its presence.

The scent of sandalwood welcomes him home.

[k-n0-x]

‎‧₊˚✧[Sandy Dunes- Transmasc reader x Lucifer Morningstar teaser!]✧˚₊‧

A while ago @lucifers-personal-cum-dump asked me to make a small fanfic of a transmasc reader and Lucifer, where reader struggles to pick up on innuedos and social cues in general (me fr 💔💔)

Enjoy~

ೃ⁀➷୧⋆｡🕯. -ʚɞೃ⁀➷୧ ‧₊˚ 🍵 ⋅ೃ⁀➷୧⋆｡🕯. -ʚɞೃ⁀➷

“Are you ready to go now sweet pea?” Lucifer knocks on the bathroom door, and you open it.

“Yeah, just give me a second!” You reply as you apply hellcream on your front, arms and face.

“Can you help me put some on my back?” 

Today was the hottest day in Hell, so Lucifer and yourself decided to spend the day on Hell’s “best” beaches.

“Of course,” You ignored his smug tone as he spread the sun blocker with his palms. 

Him being the King of Hell, he is very much inured to the death  rays of the hellish sun that burned the sinners.

“You know~” His delicate hands trace towards the scars just below your lower chest.

“We can have our own fun day inside,” 

You ponder for a few moments, not understanding  his innuendo.

“Nah, we should go out. You have not gone outside in a while. Besides-” you put your hands on either side of his face.

“It’s a good opportunity for bonding time,” 

He sighs into the warmth of your hands.

“Alright, if you insist”

˚₊· ͟͟͞͞➳❥໒꒱🌱⠈⠂⠄ ‹𝟹 🚞〃 ˝˚₊· ͟͟͞͞➳❥

“See Lulu, ain’t too bad, right?” You gaze on the sultry red sand beneath your feet, and then to the lapping teal waves.

“You got that right,” he replies, but he wasn’t looking at the scenery.

“Come onn, knock it out!” You bump into his side, grinning all the same. 

Something catches your interest from the corner of your eye.

“Ooooh, Surf boards! I’m going to get one, okay babe?” 

“Alright. Don’t take too long, okay?” Lucifer stands on his tiptoes and pecks the nape of your neck, a comical sight, you towering over the King of Hell.

“Don’t worry, I won’t!” You tredge to the stall which is selling surfboards.

The dinky booth was unoccupied, with a vandalised sign, and one of the surf boards were snapped in half.

You lean over the countertop and scrummage around for one that is in decent edition, when a calloused hand snaps to your shoulder.

ೃ⁀➷୧ ‧₊˚ 🍵 ⋅ೃ⁀➷୧⋆｡🕯. -ʚɞೃ⁀➷୧ ‧₊˚ 🍵 ⋅ೃ⁀➷

p.s~ Something Stupid Chapter 6 is not gonna come out tomorrow, but soon enough it will. Toodles~

[grayfilmsandstuff]

this was so much fun to write!! thank you @princeasimdiya12​ for this amazing request, and I hope it meets your expectations (press keep reading to see the whole thing) <3

Jasmine pulled her hood further over her face, glancing side to side as to make sure nobody knew who she was. Luckily, she wasn't the only tall person in Agrabah, so it wasn't a dead giveaway. If any of the guards or citizens knew that the princess was out of the castle, they would either freak out or order her back to the king, neither of which she wanted to happen. Passing through crowds and crowds of people, she began to lose hope. She had left the castle so she could once again visit Shawn, but he wasn't doing his usual business, so she had no clue where he could be. Stealing, that is.

"Psst." A voice hissed at her from around a corner. Jasmine looked over to see Shawn, hiding from the people passing by. Her face brightened with a smile as she sped over to speak with him.

"Shawn! There you are, I've-" Jasmine started.

"Shh! Do you want people to know you're here? Or even worse, that you're here with me?" Shawn interrupted. Jasmine pondered for a second, then nodded. Shawn gave her a confused look.

“So… you do want people to find you out?” He asked. Jasmine shook her head laughing.

“No, no! I mean that as in ‘I understand’!” She explains. Shawn laughs with her. He takes her hand and begins to walk between buildings, going somewhere she’s never seen.

“I’ve been working on something for you for about a week now, and since you’re here, what better time than now to show you?” Shawn explains. He puts his fingers up to his mouth and whistles, causing a small monkey to run up to him and hop onto his shoulder.

“Can you shown Princess Jasmine to the top of our tower?” Shawn asks the monkey. It leaps in front of Jasmine, takes her hand, leads her into a spiral building and began walking up the staircase.

“Where is this little guy taking me, exactly?” Jasmine calls behind her. Shawn begins to follow, hoping in his mind that what he worked on would make her happy. That’s all he truly wanted.

“You’ll see!” He responds. After about a minute, he could hear Jasmine’s gasp from the top of the tower. Shawn put more speed into his step as he progressed until he joined her at the top.

“D-Do you like it?” He stuttered. “I decided that, since statistically more zombie attacks happen in crowded places, I wanted to have a safe getaway for us both when it happens and-”

“I love it!” Jasmine exclaimed, turning around to face him. Shawn meets her gaze, with surprise and relief in his eyes. Behind Jasmine lied a large, open room with drapes and carpets scattered. A small couch with a few pillows sat on one end, while a dinky little tv with a lopsided satellite sat on a stool on the other. It wasn’t much, but the small decor and the nice, cosy feeling gave Shawn the hope that she would like it.

“You do?”

“Of course!” Jasmine lifted Shawn up off the ground and embraced him in a large hug, and he gladly returned it. He had made her happy, and that was all he really wanted.

[pendragonfics]

messes and confessions

- ̗̀  Bruce Banner Bingo 2019  ̖́-

Paring: Bruce Banner/Reader

Square filled: domestic au

Tags: female reader, Domestic, Domestic Fluff, Domestic Avengers, Adorable Bruce Banner, Anniversary, No Plot/Plotless, Slice of Life

Summary: There's an anniversary coming up, but __________ isn't that sure if everything's okay in her relationship.

Word Count: 2,702

Current Date: 2019-09-18

Instead of going into a life of fighting crime with your abilities, you focused on your studies, travelling abroad. That’s how you met Dr Banner. Even though he couldn’t technically die because of his Green Friend, he insisted that you saved his life in an attack on the Pakistan-India border. And since he was perhaps the most loyal man you’d ever met, he insisted that he had a sort of debt to you.

To that, you asked him to buy you a drink.

Not to outdo you, Bruce persuaded you to return to the U.S with him. And in the subsequent year, you did the milestones with him, eventually moving into the Avengers Tower together. But despite it being a year together, it still felt like the early stages of the relationship. Being with Bruce after all this time still left you wondering about his feelings. He wasn’t the most vocal about intentions, but the doubt crept up, and took a hold of you.

When you couldn’t sleep, you’d snuggle with Bruce until he fell asleep, and then you’d sneak from the covers, and float to the roof. Your mutation wasn’t exploitable, and without military training, it was more of a quirk than a superpower. It was more comfortable sitting upside down. With your head lowest to the ground, hair falling from your eyes. It was more natural to you, coming easier than staying grounded. Sometimes, you even fell asleep up there, but you’d never let Bruce wake to find you above the bed rather than in it.

When he was off on missions, you’d try and get as much work done as you could on your commissions, but the path of freelance never did run smooth. Your mind would always be cluttered with so many thoughts. Often you spent most of the time asking J.A.R.V.I.S. questions that could have been sourced from yahoo answers, or better yet, a therapist. But the disembodied voice never breached confidentiality, and you got some traction on what to do.

“Can I borrow the team card?” You sat beside Tony with a smile.

He huffed. “What, no sweet talk? Usually, people are more conspicuous when it comes to borrowing money.”

“I’m not like most people,” you replied with a flourish, “and if I was loaded, I wouldn’t need to do the humiliating task of asking for money when I’m on below minimum wage in your own residence.”

“Touché.”

“So?” you pressed, growing nervous. “Come on, Stark, I know you can spare fifty bucks.”

He blinked at that. “You just want fifty dollars?” he rephrased, incredulous. He dug in the pocket of his jeans, and withdrawing a designer wallet, he presented a metal card into your hands. “Don’t spend it all in one place.”

---

Before living in the Avengers Tower, you had a dinky apartment beside a guy named Pete who you suspected was a street fighter. Apart from the fact you barely made rent there, moving in with Bruce was a godsend. Life in the Tower was great, to an extent - central location, fantastic wi-fi, walls that weren’t caked with mould and grime. The downside: living with the other Avengers, who are wonderful! It was just a little too much to fight over cereal with Thor and Captain America.

Scuttling to a warm spot, you sat with your laptop in the living area. The window was the wall, and the view from this far up was terrifying, to say the least. But if you didn’t look down, the sunlight on your back was enough to keep you focused on your task.

In a week’s time, it was your anniversary. You’d been racking your brain for what you’d get him for months now, but every time that you’d conclude on something to get him, you’d either chicken out of it or see him with a similar thing a week later. You tried everything, to no luck.

That was until you traipsed upon a DIY gift shop. It was meant for independent artists to sell their works through, but the further you dug into the site, you realised that it was mostly used by fans and admirers of topics, making things for niche audiences. Which is how you stumbled onto the sweater. User green-Man had made artwork for the item, which to the untrained audience, read as nonsense. Bruce had a weird sense of humour; you really, really hoped that this gift would fit his niche.

Hence, Stark’s card.

You had just selected the shipping when you heard the door open. Swiftly, you finished the process, and shoved the laptop aside, and hid the credit card.

“Hey,” you looked Bruce up and down, taking him in. “You’re back early.”

“By a day,” He sighed, making his way toward you on the floor. He wiped a hand over the scruff on his face and gave you a look which you read as both content and tired. “We tied things up quicker than we thought.”

“Did you -,”

“Yeah.” He sighed, taking a seat beside you, curling into your side.

Bruce Banner was a grown man. He had been through some terrible, horrible, no good things in his lifetime. He had seen some things which people should not have to see and had things done to him that no person should ever have done. He’d defied death in a laboratory and lived precariously with a persona that took a toll on his psyche. To the kids who bought the Hulk dolls in their Avengers set, he was a hero. But to you, he was a man, a man with the world settled upon his shoulders, and without anyone to share the burden with.

You hoped you could be the person he could share it with, but it seemed not.

“Do you need anything?” you asked him, softly. He made a noise into your shoulder, the softest grunt, and you smiled, “Just say what you need, and I’ll try my best.”

“This is good,” Bruce murmured. “…but I should shower before I pass out.”

“I’ll run us a bath,” you say, and kiss his cheek.

As you walk off, he says something. You don’t quite catch it, but it makes your heart flutter a little.

---

You’re vacuuming the ceiling the day before the anniversary, because last time you walked on the roof, you had no idea your feet were so grubby. Bruce is sitting in the armchair by the window, reading a novel. You’re sure he’s just re-reading the same line in repetition because there hasn’t been much page-turning going on. Just as you switch off the vacuum and return to normal gravitation, there’s a notification on the panel by the door that Tony installed.

It’s basically a fancy way for you to know if anyone’s waiting for you in the lobby, have delivery food, etcetera. But you’ve been waiting on this notification for days and as soon as you hear it, you clamour to get downstairs.

“Is everything okay?” Bruce asked, looking up from his book.

“Oh yeah,” you reply, shoving shoes on, trying to keep a poker face. “Peachy keen.”

You practically skid down the stairs, as the elevator is being too slow for your liking, and you make it down before the postal service worker has left. You know each other by proxy; you shop online (because going out in real life is a drag when there’s next day delivery) and they still have a job. They give you a smile before leaving, and you unlock the box for yours and Bruce’s level of the Avengers Tower.

“Yes!” you whisper, thrilled.

You take the elevator up, feeling slightly out of breath. As you near your floor, you tuck the package under your sweater, suddenly realising that you had no other way of hiding it as soon as you walked back in. Bruce would most certainly be curious as to what made you sprint like a madwoman at the notification of a package. But before you make it to your floor, the elevator stops.

“Hey there Moon Walk,” Tony beams, hitting the button to your floor.

You look to him with a strange look. “Don’t call me that.”

“Okay, Gravity, 2013.” He replied, smug.

As the elevator stopped, you watched as he entered your floor like he owned the place. Well, he did own the place, but it didn’t mean he couldn’t knock. Would it kill him to ask, even? Maybe you were just being antsy because of the whole anniversary present thing.

Bruce is on your laptop. He blinks, looking between the pair of you - his teammate, wearing a suit at ten in the morning on a weekend, and his girlfriend, with a strange lump under her sweater. Bruce looks like an animal caught doing something they shouldn’t be, but before anyone can speak, he finishes up what he’s doing, and closes the laptop.

“Hi, Tony,” he says. “Do you need anything, or…?”

The Iron Man strolls toward Bruce, placing a hand upon the back of the chair he sits in. You’d take the time to hide your package that’s growing warm under your shirt, but Bruce looks a little uncomfortable, and you linger.

“Just my card. I’m spoiling Pepper to brunch on that new restaurant with the -,”

“I thought I gave it back to you,” you say, and add quickly, to divert attention from Bruce, “Pepper told me about that place. There’s an old gelato shop she likes, a block away from it.”

“I Scream or Piccola?” Tony asks, distracted.

From the corner of your eye, you watch your boyfriend relax, not the centre of attention anymore.

“Piccola.” You move, standing at the opposite side of Bruce’s chair. “Enjoy brunch.”

You look steely into Tony’s eyes, noticing something is going on. He wouldn’t come in just to brag about a date with his fiancé, at least, not without more spectators. The genius, billionaire, playboy philanthropist looks you up and down, as if he’s J.A.R.V.I.S., and not the bodiless voice, and smiles.

“Thanks,” he beams. Snagging the card from Bruce’s lap, Tony leaves the room. But not before he turns back and flashes a bright smile. “and Big Green? You and the Upside Down’s anniversary is today.”

He closes the door before the pair of you can admonish him.

---

“It’s today?” Bruce asks, face pale. He buries his face in his hands with a groan, your laptop falling to the side of the chair with a harmless plunk. “I had it bookmarked as tomorrow!”

You chuckle, tucking a rouge curl behind his ear. “He’s messing with us.”

Bruce mutters from his hands, “I’m the worst boyfriend ever.”

“Babe, it’s tomorrow in USA time, but don’t forget we hooked up in India,” you remind him, sinking to your knees. In the moment, you forget that you’re hiding the package, and it slides out from your sweater unceremoniously, making a noise as it hits the hardwood floor. You don’t notice it, though. “Like I said, he was messing with us.”

Bruce groans. “Even if he is -,”

“He is.”

“- I’m always afraid of screwing up,” he confesses, voice so very soft. You realise that there’s tears pricking in the corner of his eyes, and he squinches them shut tight, gripping at the bridge of his nose to keep them from falling. “I don’t want to lose you.”

“Bruce, I love you so much, why would I lose you?” you ask, unsure.

He looks down into his lap, fiddling with his fingers. He takes a deep breath, and expelling it, meets your eyes. “…apart from Betty, I’ve never had anything serious, and I’ve never felt like I do with you.” He explains, and inhaling, he breathes, “You have no idea how much I love you. How much I’m afraid of him -,” He cuts himself off, expectant that you’ll say something. “- that he’ll take you away.”

But you just sit on the floor, watching him. If bodies could mimic the extent of the emotions you had inside, Bruce would see your eyes, wide and sad and unsure.

“Bruce, babe,” you stroke his cheek, feeling the stubble beneath your fingertips. “Despite the fact that Hulk and I tight, I’m not going anywhere. We’re unbreakable.”

He swallows.

“Sorry,” he chuckles, but you can tell he’s shaken, “Tony really set me off.”

“I can see,” you lean forward, and kiss his lips, his cheek, the shell of his ear. Each kiss is slow, is deliberate, and with every time your lips brush his skin, you feel his demeaner return from panic to composure. “Seeing as we’re here…how about we celebrate both days?”

“Of the anniversary?”

“Hell yeah,” you smirk. “Let’s treat ourselves.”

Going for the package under your shirt. It’s then you realise it’s fallen, and ever the hero, Bruce picks it up for you. He regards the mail bag; it’s fire-engine red, with your name on the address label.

“…it’s for you,” you smile, watching his face, “you can open it if you like.”

He tries to open it where the drag tab is but ends up tearing the plastic bag. Birthed from the sack comes his gift; the sweater you bought online. You hoped he liked it; unfolding it, Bruce regarded his gift, rubbing his thumb over the printed image on the centre of the sweater. It’s fan artwork of the Hulk’s face in MS Paint, rendered in a lovely way reminiscent of 8-Bit art, with the words ‘Lemme Smash!’ in text below. A smile broke out on his face, and he laughed.

“I love it,” he beamed, and untangled its arms as to wear it. It fit him, and the image fit snugly across his chest, thank goodness for universal sizing.

“I got you something too,” he says. He takes the laptop back to the centre of his lap, and opens the screen wordlessly and looks to you with a smile.

Your face drops.

“You - you,” you felt your mouth grow slack, “You spent fifty million dollars?” you whispered.

“Yes,” Bruce says, taking your hand in his. You felt your pulse quicken at his touch, at his words, and you bite your lip in anticipation, and he adds, “Officially, Tony signed off on it.”

“Won’t he notice that millions have gone from his accounts?” You worry at your lip, unsure. Usually, Bruce was the nervous part in the relationship, and now you are! Oh, how the turn tables have - “I mean he asks for every dollar I borrow back.”

“Babe,” Bruce nuzzles your ear with his mouth, kissing the skin there lightly, “Apart from the fact that this is the money I’ve made in the last year working as an Avenger, Tony signed off on it himself…” Bruce grins, “and there’s a press release about it being filed by Pepper’s assistant in about -,” he refreshes the tab, and a new thing pops up. “Now. And now neither of us can’t back out if it.”

“…what did you spend fifty million on?” you ask, quietly.

Bruce’s face grows warm with a crimson blush. “I didn’t say?” he asks. “…it all went toward the charity we were working on in India. Hopefully it keeps them afloat for a while.”

“Do you know how much I love you right now?” you ask him, feeling a little giddy.

Bruce smiles. “I can fathom it, a little.”

You laugh. “Why is it I never get to see your mischievous side more often?”

“Oh, it’s just for you,” he replies, softly, and closing the laptop, he adds, smooching your cheek with another of his kisses, “besides,” he breathes, “what’s fifty million to a multibillionaire?”

“How about,” You meet his lips with your own, “what’s a scientist to his lover?”

---

“I can’t believe I let him sign off on this,” Tony grumbled at brunch.

“Tony,” Pepper put a hand over his, rolling her eyes. “Don’t forget that you’ve done more ostentatious things for me, none of which involving charity and multimillions,” she hushes.

“I’ll donate sixty million dollars right now,” he retorted.

“Oh really?” she teases. “I don’t believe you.”

“…let’s get a raincheck on this date,” he mutters, standing up abruptly. “I’ve got to make a few calls.”

[thejakeformerlyknownasprince]

What of a Full Metal Alchemist AU?

“You’re a state alchemist?  You are?”  The shopkeeper turns Marco’s watch over in his hands.  “Aren’t you a little…?”  He looks Marco over.  “A little…”

Marco yanks the watch out of his hands, stuffing it into an inside pocket.  “Who you calling little, huh?”

“Marco,” Tobias says.  “He didn’t say—”

“Your bird just talked!” someone exclaims.

Tobias rolls his eyes, and doesn’t bother responding.  He’s more concerned with Marco, who is working himself into a rage.

“You think I’m tiny, huh?”  Marco jabs a finger into the shopkeeper’s chest.  He’s using his automail hand, so he can’t feel it, but the poor shopkeeper definitely can, and will probably have the bruise to show for it.  “I’m just minuscule, is that it?  A speck on the ground for you to step on?  Is that what you think?”

“I’m sorry,” Tobias tells the shopkeeper, talking loudly over Marco.  “He knows you didn’t mean it, and that you would never disrespect a state alchemist.  We’re going to go now.”

The shopkeeper looks away from Marco for the first time.  “How…?”  He looks Tobias over.  “Is that alchemy?  Is he a homunculus?”

“I’m a bird,” Tobias says.  “Or a human.  Kind of.  We’re going to go now, so… uh, have a nice day.”

“And that’s another thing!”  Marco draws himself up again.  “I’m much taller than lots of people—”

“Marco, let’s go.”

This time, Tobias gets through; Marco’s shoulders slump, and he finally turns away.

Marco stomps away down the street, melodramatic huff only emphasized by the loud clunk of his left leg on the paving stones.  Tobias soars silently after him, flaring to land on his right shoulder.

“Stupid tall asshole,” Marco mutters.

“Uh-huh.”  Tobias doesn’t bother to hide the sarcasm in his tone.  “The nerve of some people, walking around flaunting their tallness.”

Marco huffs, shoving his hair out of his face.

It’s not actually the height thing.  Not really.  Tobias knows Marco well enough to know that.  It’s the fact that no one takes a kid seriously, even a kid with state alchemist certification.  It’s the way that people see Marco’s automail limbs, or Tobias’s entire body, and treat them like freaks of nature or museum curiosities.  It’s the muttered comments about dogs of the law that follow state alchemists everywhere, expressed a lot more boldly in front of Marco because people tend to mistake him for not being a threat.  It’s the way people ask where his parents are, meaning that Marco has to come up with an answer.

“Let’s go check in on the church, huh?” Tobias suggests.  “Maybe they know something about this alleged philosopher’s stone.”

“Yeah, okay.  Might as well.”  Marco turns to give the stink-eye to yet another resident of this dinky little town who has apparently never seen a talking bird before.

Well.  Technically, Tobias isn’t a talking bird.  If you look closely enough at him, it becomes obvious that he’s a talking statue of a bird.  He’s obsidian all the way through, except for the blood-drawn sigil under one wing.  It’s not so bad, really.  He’s survived a lot of things that would have killed his squishy human body.  He can fly now, which is a huge bonus, and he’s far more dangerous than he would be as a human.  The talons aren’t just for show, either; he always lands on Marco’s automail shoulder because he’d rip right through the flesh one if he tried.

The interior of the church is dim and cool after the heat of the desert outside.  It’s empty except for the girl they met earlier on the edge of town.  She runs a rag over the altar, polishing the base of the towering statue of the sun god.

“Hi,” Tobias says softly, careful not to startle her.  “It’s Cassie, right?”

She tucks the rag away, turning to smile at them both.  “Hi.  Come to ask for some guidance?”  She gestures at the altar.

“Yeah.”  Marco sprawls into a pew, fanning himself.  “We’re looking for guidance.  On how your preacher-man can bring people back from the dead.  Allegedly.  In exchange for, what?  A lifetime of sacrifice from you?”

Cassie rolls her eyes.  “I take care of the temple’s birds.  And I’d be happy to do it, even if…”  She looks down, raising a hand to the hollow of her throat.

“You’ll have to forgive Marco,” Tobias says.  “He’s chronically cynical.  About everything.  Pretty sure it’s incurable.”

“It’s okay,” Cassie tells him.  “I don’t need external validation to have faith.”

“Shouldn’t be too hard to bring back, what, your boyfriend?”  Marco raises an eyebrow.  “Parts of him, anyway.”

Internally, Tobias winces.

“Humans are mostly water,” Marco drawls.  “Plus carbon, ammonia, lime, a handful of other substances you can get at any corner store.  If it was his body you were that interested in, I could probably build one for you right now.”

Cassie draws herself up.  “You should leave now.”

“Let him finish,” Tobias says quietly.  Marco’s being unnecessarily harsh about it, but he’s making an important point.

“We’ve done it, you know.”  Marco cocks a thumb at Tobias.  “The spell to bring someone back.”

Cassie gasps.  “You…?”

“It tends to extract a bit of a price.”  Lazily, Marco twists to rap his knuckles against his thigh so that she can hear the ting, ting of metal against metal, even through two layers of fabric.  “I only didn’t die because our next door neighbors are the best automail engineers in the country, and Tobias got me there in time.”

“Did it… work?” Cassie asks.

“Nope.  And now there’s an unholy thing running around with my mom’s face, my best friend’s a soul trapped as a statue, and I have a nasty habit of rusting in rainstorms.”  Marco grins at her.  “So whoever this guy is, I’m not betting on him turning out how you hope.  Unless a pile of disconnected body parts was the goal all along.”

She turns away, breathing harshly.  Fighting tears.

“You didn’t have to say it like that,” Tobias whispers to Marco.

“It’s not my problem if she’s a tree-hugging dumbass.”

Sighing, Tobias turns away.  That’s Marco for you: either he’ll hack off his own right arm at the shoulder to save your life, or he’ll watch in smug indifference as your world crumbles.  There is no in-between.

“If we’re going to find the philosopher’s stone, we should go straight to the source.”  Marco pushes to his feet.  “It’s that or sit around here and keep accumulating sand in my joints.”

Tobias flutters at the dead interior air, trying to get liftoff.  “How much sand?”

Pulling off his glove, Marco wiggles fingers that scrape audibly together.  “So much.”

“Dude.”  Tobias laughs.  “Rachel is going to murder you when she hears that.”

Narrowing his eyes, Marco peers at his hand.  “Do we have to tell her?  We could just…”  He mimes detaching the whole limb.  “Tell her I lost it again.”

“Then she’d kill you even deader.”

“And rant for two hours about all of the beautiful automail that I wasted.”

“And refuse to make you a new one.”

“…for about two hours.  Then my irresistible charm would wear her down.”

“Charm?  What charm?”

“Oh, shut it.”

Marco’s already shoving through the doors, but Tobias circles back.  He doesn’t like how they left things.

She’s still standing at the altar, looking at the ground.

“Cassie?” he says.

She looks up at him.  “Yeah?”

Tobias doesn’t have anything truly kind to say to her, anything she wants to hear.  He wishes that alchemy could just give out the answers, like the magic of legend.  Like he and Marco had believed, three years ago when they’d been kids too smart for their own good and just dumb enough to believe they could change the world.

“Good luck,” he says at last.  “With everything.”

“Yeah.”  She smiles.  “You too.”

[knox-knocks]

timeless ~ chapter 4

read on ao3

It was just after sunset in a bustling city and Andrew found himself walking down the side of a road. He wasn’t far from his hotel, a couple blocks maybe, but it was already out of view. The city had grown even larger since Andrew last found himself here, new skyscrapers reached for the sky, towering over the smaller, older buildings. Andrew imagined they would only get taller as space grew scarcer. Humanity would continue to go up until it couldn’t even remember the ground anymore.

Andrew thought he was doing just fine with his feet planted firmly on the ground.

The city must have repaired the sidewalks because the cement was smooth and unblemished under Andrew’s feet. There were no cracks or lines to step over, nothing to keep Andrew’s brain occupied except all the change around him, something he didn’t particularly care to think about.

It had been ten years and three days since Andrew last saw Neil Josten, ten years and three days since Neil died and Andrew, once again, was left to deal with the aftermath of a man with no ID, no proof of existence, dying in his apartment. Ten long years and three days since Andrew began his search for a solution, a way to put an end to Neil’s reoccurring deaths. Now Andrew was back in Columbia waiting for Neil to come back, just like he promised.

But Neil was late.

A part of Andrew, what started as a small whisper bubbling up in his chest transforming into something bigger, something less manageable, began to think that Neil wouldn’t be coming back at all. Neil did say that there was a chance he wouldn’t.

Panic was a wretched creature. It was just three days, Andrew reminded himself. For all he knew, Neil had been expunged from the void and was hiding out somewhere, waiting for him. Andrew sucked in a deep breath of fresh air and held it in his lungs. He’d stopped smoking about six years ago, the smoke never would have killed him and Andrew didn’t want it to. If there was a way to fix this, then Andrew would want fresh lungs to work with.

Andrew closed his eyes and tipped his head back, breathing in the warm autumn air. The sound of traffic filled his ears and an insect buzzed around his head. He’d stopped in the middle of the sidewalk, forcing the stream of people to go around him like a river flowing around a stone.

Renee had told him that immortals were souls separated from time, a disconnect from the very thing that dictated the world around him. He was a twig caught in a stream, the river of time diverting around him, leaving him behind.

Andrew opened his eyes and continued to walk.

It was almost midnight when Andrew heard it. The sound was nearly swallowed by the hustle and bustle of hundreds of people coming and going, but Andrew’s ears were attuned to the sound. He’d been waiting for it.

Nobody noticed when Neil Josten appeared out of thin air and stumbled forward, it was too dark to see or people simply didn’t care. Andrew caught him under his arms and pulled him to the side, out of the way of anybody who might run into him. Neil slumped against Andrew, shaking with exhaustion and relief. Neil’s hand curled around Andrew’s bicep in a weak grip.

“Hi,” Neil croaked, his voice scratched to hell. His body was skinny and battered, like the last few times he had been reborn. There was blood smeared on his face, dripping from his nose and a cut on his forehead. Andrew couldn’t remember if that cut had been there last time. Instead of dwelling on it, he wrapped an arm around Neil’s waist and pulled him against his chest. If anyone saw, they would have written it off as a hug. Maybe it was.

“Hey,” Andrew replied, soft. Neil dropped his head on Andrew’s shoulder.

“Wasn’t sure if I could make it out of the void this time,” he said into Andrew’s neck. “It was close, really close.”

Andrew could have said, let’s not talk about this here, or I missed you, or even a simple glad you’re back. But he stayed quiet. Nothing was quite so simple with Neil Josten.

“My hotel is around the corner. Can you walk?” Andrew asked. When Neil nodded, Andrew shrugged off his jacket and gave it to Neil to cover up his bloody shirt. Neil nodded his thanks and pulled the hood over his head.

Neil stumbled a few times when he walked, weak from another ten years in the void and readjusting to his legs, but Andrew was there with a careful arm around his waist or a hand on his shoulder to steady him. He’d be damned if he left Neil to die after just getting him back, and by falling off the damn curb for fuck’s sake.

The hotel was mostly empty when they arrived, and Andrew and Neil didn’t run into anyone on the way to Andrew’s room. At one point the hotel might have been grand, with high ceilings and intricate paintings that reminded Andrew of the Sistine chapel that had burned down years ago. But the building was sagging and faded in places from age and years of neglect, and the room Andrew paid a week’s stay for had hardly put a dent in his wallet.

Andrew unlocked the door and allowed Neil inside. He’d gotten a room with two twin beds, in case either one of them needed it. Neil didn’t notice or didn’t care, he kicked off his shoes and collapsed on top of the closest of the dinky beds. Andrew went past him to his duffel bag and dug out a pair of sweats and a t-shirt for himself and then some for Neil. He’d brought a couple extra pairs of clothing in Neil’s size so they wouldn’t have to share, but there was only enough for about a week. The rest of his and Neil’s clothes were in Andrew’s room at Fox Tower.

Neil was fast asleep but woke with a start when Andrew tossed his clothes at him.

“You need dinner before you go to sleep. You haven’t eaten anything for a decade,” Andrew said.

“I haven’t slept for a decade, either,” Neil pointed out, frowning at the flat pillows piled at the head of the bed. He batted at the useless square pillow with the scratchy sequins that was more for show than for usability and let it drop to the floor.

Andrew ignored that and dressed quickly, trading his black tank top for one of the old t-shirts he had carried with him throughout the years, soft with age and too many cycles in the washer. There was a hole in the collar, the threads tickled Andrew’s chin when he dipped his head down, but it was comfortable. He peeled off his armbands and threw them in the general direction of the duffel bag before changing into sweats, the hems worn from treading on them too much.

Neil hopped in the shower while Andrew got dressed so Andrew picked up his clothes and stuffed them in the duffel. After a few minutes Neil left the bathroom, steam swirling around his head, making the image of him hazy and distant. His face was still blotchy with bruises, but the blood was gone and he was already dressed in the clothes Andrew had given him. Neil sat on the foot of the bed, water dripping from wet hair, blinking sleepily.

Andrew felt Neil’s eyes on him when he passed by to get to the tiny kitchen in the hotel room, but he didn’t meet his gaze. He knew Neil was watching him as he dug through the even tinier refrigerator, and he didn’t acknowledge the frown tugging at Neil’s lips when he pulled out a frozen meal and stuck it in the microwave.

Andrew kept his eyes on the microwave, watching the plate of spaghetti turn slowly through the screen and wondering how many hotels even used microwaves anymore.

“Andrew,” Neil said. Andrew tilted his head toward him but kept his eyes on the dull light from the microwave. It beeped and Andrew took it out, grabbing the edges of the container to keep from burning his fingers. He peeled back the plastic sheet and stirred the contents with a fork and stuck it back in the microwave for another two minutes.

“I thought of you, you know.” Neil’s voice was soft. “When I was in the void and had to relive my deaths, I just kept thinking of you.”

The microwave beeped and Andrew jabbed at the button until the door opened. The spaghetti was steaming and Andrew burned the pad of his thumb on the container.

“I think it’s the only thing that got me through,” Neil mused. Andrew hadn’t heard him move, but his voice was closer than before. “I think I would have faded if it weren’t for you.”

“I didn’t do anything,” Andrew murmured and gave the spaghetti one last vigorous stir.

Neil hummed in obvious disagreement. He was close, Andrew could almost feel the heat from his body, the static between them, pulling them closer. Neil’s brush of fingers against Andrew’s sleeve, just barely grazing his skin, was a jolt of electricity. Andrew turned his head to face Neil, staring at the collar of his shirt to avoid seeing that soft look on his face that drove Andrew crazy.

Andrew’s heart beat hard in his chest, more of a fragment of a memory than an actual function that kept him alive. He turned his body so he was facing Neil fully and finally succumbed to the voice in his head whispering to give in. Andrew pulled him close around the waist, his hands rubbing up and down his back as he leaned his forehead against Neil’s. Neil breathed a sigh and curled his arms around Andrew’s neck, trickling his hands down until he and Andrew were fully engulfed in each other. The warmth from Neil’s palms was at once soothing and made him ache.

Something released in Andrew’s chest. He expected it to be like stretching a rubber band until it broke and snapped back against his hand, leaving behind stinging red marks, but instead it was the unraveling of a rope constricting his lungs, quiet and small yet a release of pressure.

It was all too much, surrounded by Neil’s scent, masked by the generic, flowery soap from the hotel bathroom, and Neil’s skin, clean and soft to the touch. Neil, Neil, Neil. After so long, finally, Neil. Andrew never wanted him to leave.

It was too much, so Andrew had to say, “I found a way to help you.”

Neil tensed and Andrew told himself that he hadn’t ruined it. He was about to pull away when Neil relaxed, tucking his head against Andrew’s neck, and whispered, “How?”

Andrew hummed and began to explain.

Technically, help had found Andrew in the form of Renee Walker. It had been eight years since Neil died, and Andrew was no closer to finding a solution than he was before. He was tired of the dead ends, the leads that lead to nothing, and the hopelessness dogging his steps. He was slipping back into the gray depression that left him adrift, aimless in the ample time he had. King helped, and if he hadn’t had to get out of bed every day to take care of her, he would have listened to the familiar voice whispering to him to give up, give up, give up.

The timeless, Renee had told him, were people who time affected differently than mortals, or in Andrew’s case, not at all. Renee was a time traveler, as was David Wymack, the director of Palmetto. Wymack was the man who founded Palmetto, an institute for the timeless, a safe haven of sorts, nearly twenty years ago. Andrew didn’t believe in safe havens, but Wymack and the other timeless had accepted Andrew immediately and he stayed with them for two years until it was time to collect Neil.

“You think they can do it?” Neil asked tentatively, his breath ghosting over Andrew’s skin.

Andrew shrugged, careful not to disturb Neil. “They’ll have to look at you first. Run tests to see if you’re able to endure the procedure.”

“But?”

“But it’s better than nothing.”

Neil nodded, and Andrew felt him swallow hard against his shoulder. He knew Neil must be scared, and maybe a little hopeful. They still had so much to talk about, a lot to discuss before Neil would be ready for a decision like that. But for now they stayed silent for a long moment, standing in the kitchen and breathing together as the minutes stretched in front of them. Andrew only pulled away when Neil’s stomach gave a loud rumble and he remembered the spaghetti sitting forgotten on the counter a few feet away.

The separate beds proved to be unneeded, as Andrew pulled Neil to one of them to share. That night, head pillowed atop Andrew’s chest and Andrew holding him tight, Neil fell asleep quickly.

~

Andrew watched the sun rise through the window. Neil was still asleep, breathing evenly and snoring a soft whistling sound. It wasn’t until the light spilled in from the window and lit Neil’s hair ablaze did he begin to stir.

Neil’s eyes fluttered open enough for Andrew to glimpse the color but he fell back asleep with a heavy sigh. Deciding to leave him there, Andrew carefully moved Neil off of him and sat up. Andrew rubbed his eyes, feeling a headache starting in his temples. He felt grungy and in desperate need of a shower. He felt like he accidentally slept for two weeks, despite not actually sleeping at all the past couple days.

Andrew stretched, feeling his spine crack. Yawning, Andrew glanced at Neil. He was still curled up under the sheets, hugging the pillow Andrew had just vacated.

The hotel bathroom was small and cramped with ornate marble counters that may have been shiny at one point, but were now left lackluster. The mirror was clear, at least, and Andrew considered his reflection, the smudges under his eyes, the weariness tugging at the lines of his face, far too young for the years he had lived. Andrew sighed and turned away.

All Andrew had to wash his body was the small containers of shampoo and conditioner and a thin bar of soap. Neil had used most of it the night before, but Andrew did his best at scrubbing away the past couple days, years, decades even. He turned the water off after he rinsed the suds out of his hair and already missed the hot water. He finished up in the bathroom by brushing his teeth and drying his hair with the last fluffy towel.

He felt worlds better after the shower, his body less stiff from sleepless nights and worrying. Neil was sitting up, groggy and with a serious case of bed head when Andrew left the bathroom. Neil blinked at him, his face creased from the pillow. Something soft settled in Andrew’s stomach as he plopped down on the bed. He felt the mattress shift underneath him as Neil moved, lowering himself so he was level with Andrew.

“Good morning,” Neil said. Andrew hummed, content just to look. The dark circles under Neil’s eyes had almost faded completely but his face was thinner than it should have been and the cuts and bruises still had a couple days to heal.

Andrew leaned forward, tired of the distance, and waited for Neil to meet him in the middle. Neil’s lips brushed his and it was as if the ten years between them dissipated. Andrew sighed into the kiss, relishing the feel of Neil against him.

They spent that day and the next in the hotel, lounging in bed and exchanging slow kisses. When they weren’t tangled up in each other, Neil was sleeping or flipping through the different channels the hotel television offered. Instead of going out to eat or making anything, they ordered takeout and had it delivered to their room. It was out of laziness and the lack of desire Andrew had to forfeit the quiet comfort he had with Neil more than anything.

They were sprawled out on the bed when Neil settled on a cheesy sitcom that Andrew didn’t know was still airing from 2074. Andrew squinted at the screen as the ridiculous characters did something ridiculous and let his head fall back against the headboard. “This is terrible.”

Neil snorted beside him but didn’t say anything. When Andrew sneaked a look at him from the corner of his eye, Neil was enthralled with the stupid thing. Andrew rolled his eyes, feeling perhaps a bit fond. The episode ended and Neil grabbed the remote to lower the volume.

“I want to see Columbia today,” he said. “I haven’t had the chance to look around the past couple times I’ve been here, and I bet it’s different than it was in 1995.”

“Okay,” Andrew said. “Get ready.”

A small smile curved Neil’s lips and he pressed a kiss to Andrew’s jaw. He rolled out of bed and dug through Andrew’s duffel for his clothes. He grabbed the nice green t-shirt and dark jeans, Andrew noted, before disappearing into the bathroom and leaving the door ajar behind him. They would look good on him.

Ten minutes passed and Neil still hadn’t left the bathroom. Andrew could hear the sink running, so Neil should be finishing up. Andrew checked the time on his phone. It was an older model from 2063, practically obsolete, but Renee had given it to him for cheap and it was more than what he needed. It was already half past eight in the morning, so they could grab some breakfast before spending the entire day walking around Columbia. Andrew slid his phone in his pocket and went to collect Neil.

Rapping lightly on the door frame, Andrew looked inside. Neil was dressed and his hair was no longer in disarray, but he was staring blankly at his hands, his toothbrush clutched in one hand and toothpaste in the other, the cap abandoned by the sink. Andrew narrowed his eyes. Neil wasn’t eyeing the crisscross of scars on his hands like he sometimes did, instead his eyes were glassy and empty.

“Neil,” Andrew called, firm enough to draw him back but quiet enough to not startle him. Neil didn’t respond, he didn’t even twitch. That wasn’t unusual by itself, sometimes when Neil was deep in the void it was hard to call him back on the first try.

“Neil,” Andrew said again. And then, “Abram.”

Neil tilted his head in Andrew’s direction and blinked slowly back to awareness as he came back to himself. He lifted his eyes to Andrew’s in the mirror. He still looked distant and unfocused. Andrew approached, careful and slow, and curled his hand around the nape of Neil’s neck. He kept his grip firm until he felt Neil’s body relax. “Ready to go?” Andrew asked.

“Yeah,” Neil said. “I just need to brush my teeth.”

~

The city was busy that morning, the streets bustling with people dressed in nice black suits, holding cups of coffee and rushing to their office jobs or people walking at a more leisurely pace, nowhere to be and nothing to do except to enjoy the warm October air.

Andrew tore a strip off his chocolate éclair and bumped his shoulder against Neil’s. They were heading down town, closer to where their old apartment was located. The apartment was long gone, a series of condos and office buildings in its place. A part of Andrew twinged at the thought. A year was not a long time compared to the lifespan of an immortal, but his and Neil’s apartment had been the first home Andrew had since his family’s farm burned down. He’d had different apartments since then, but it wasn’t the same.

But, Andrew thought, if everything went well, he and Neil could have another home to share, and this time they wouldn’t have to worry about losing it. It would be theirs and theirs alone. Andrew swallowed. Wymack told him not to get his hopes up, and he wasn’t, but it was the only solution Andrew had managed to find in the ten years he had been searching. And it was a pretty promising one.

One more day. Andrew just had to keep Neil alive until they headed to Palmetto and fix this for good.

“Is that Eden’s Twilight?” Neil asked, breaking Andrew out of his thoughts. He nodded his head to the building in front of them. “It’s so different.”

“They renovated everything about two years ago. Practically tore down the entire building and built it new again. I don’t know what it looks like inside, I haven’t gone in since 2067, but I didn’t stay for very long,” Andrew said. Neil stayed quiet. 2067 was the last time they were together, before Neil died of the fever.

Andrew nudged Neil to keep walking. This wasn’t what he wanted to show him.

They stopped a couple times along the way, Andrew pointing out new and old buildings and Neil commenting between bites of his fruit parfait.

“Holy shit,” Neil said with a grin. “It’s the Exy court.”

Andrew sighed. “They made a bigger one when Columbia started growing in population. The Dragons don’t play here anymore, they were replaced by the Columbia Badgers a while ago. I wouldn’t be surprised if they named the team after you.”

“Why, because I’m stubborn?”

“Because you stink.”

Neil tipped his head back and laughed. Andrew had missed that laugh, carefree and loud. When Andrew first met him, Neil never did anything loudly. He hung back and stayed quiet as if he was trying to fade away. The first time Neil laughed like that, Andrew realized his feelings for Neil went deeper than he first thought. Now, it settled something inside Andrew. Warmth grew in his chest until Andrew was sure he would explode.

“Will you play Exy with me? I’ll buy you your favorite chocolate,” Neil said, his neck craning to keep his eyes on the court.

“Later, Junkie,” Andrew said. “And Hershey’s doesn’t sell chocolate anymore.”

Neil made a sympathetic face and offered a bit of his yoghourt to Andrew in consolation. Andrew accepted the tiny dollop off of Neil’s spoon without a word. He wasn’t much of a fan of fruit parfait, but it was sweet and reminded him of Neil.

When they passed the row of tall condos that replaced their old apartment and started toward the oldest part of the city, Neil grew more curious.

“Where are we going?” he asked.

Andrew didn’t reply. Neil would find out soon enough.

Identical houses with various paint jobs lined the street in neat little rows, the shrubs and trees all trimmed neatly to keep the synchrony of the neighborhood. White picket fences and wide, open windows. It was just as unrecognizable to Andrew as it was to Neil because he hadn’t been to this side of town in over two hundred years. A fat ginger cat lazed in a bed of purple flowers, its large green eyes lazily following Neil and Andrew as they passed by. With a pang, it reminded Andrew a little of King. He missed her already.

It wasn’t the neighborhood that was important. It had only been around for less than fifty years, after all. Andrew didn’t care about the houses or the neat lawns or the cat. He stopped in front of an old schoolhouse, wooden walls cracked and decaying. It leaned precariously to the side, sagging with age. The lawn was green from regularly being watered, but the weeds had overgrown and little yellow dandelions popped up in groves. It was as much of a museum on the outside as it was on the inside.

“What is this?” Neil asked, his voice quiet. The air seemed still around them. Nothing disturbed the peace; even the birds were quiet despite the time of morning. Neil’s lips were pulled down in a slight frown. Andrew could see him glancing at Andrew from the corner of his eye.

Andrew took a deep breath. “My old home.”

Neil’s eyes widened as he looked back at the schoolhouse. He swayed on his feet, as if he were about to take a step closer and then decided against it. “This?” he asked.

“Not exactly. I told you my house burned down, and it did,” Andrew explained. “The entire farm was pretty much gone by the time the fire was put out. I sold the land and a couple years later they built a school right on top. Now the place is a museum or something.”

Andrew had looked it up a couple decades ago, curious and filled with longing for his old home and his late family. He was surprised to find the school was still standing, more surprised that the city hadn’t torn it down and built something new like everything else.

“Can we go in?” Neil asked.

Andrew looked at the overgrown grass, dotted with dandelions. He dragged his eyes along the dull red paint flaking off of the wood, the clear windows and white curtains inside. A bird chirped a cheery tune somewhere behind them, apparently done with the quiet. Andrew had promised himself he would never come back here after he buried the empty caskets. He never wanted to be reminded of his life here, but so much was different and, quietly, Andrew acknowledged that it didn’t hurt as much as it used to.

Grabbing Neil’s hand, Andrew led him inside.

~

The sun still had hours before it would begin to set, but Andrew and Neil made their way back to the hotel anyway. The schoolhouse museum was mostly a brief history of Columbia. It wasn’t that interesting, considering Andrew had witnessed the growth of the city with his own eyes, but he and Neil went through every exhibit and read each placard anyway. Between exhibits, Andrew whispered stories of his family and his life on the farm and quietly admitted that he missed them. In return, Neil began to open up about his own life before he first died. They stopped for lunch at a nice restaurant after Neil decided he was sick of takeout and leftovers, made a quick stop at a convenience store nearby, and headed back to the hotel.

Andrew could read the contentment in every relaxed line of Neil’s body. It looked good on him, this quiet happiness. It made something in Andrew thrum in every one of his veins, a buzzing, a sense of urgency pulsing through his body like a livewire. When they got back to the apartment, Andrew barely waited for the door to close behind them before he was pushing Neil up against the wood, rucking up his shirt with his hands to reveal bare skin and old scars, and murmuring an urgent yes or no.

Neil’s yes was hushed and laced with the same need pumping through Andrew’s body with every beat of his heart. He buried his hands in Andrew’s hair and let Andrew take him apart before they needed to move it to the bed.

Afterwards they lay facing each other, the sheets draped around them like liquid silk, sharing the space but not quite touching. Neil’s eyes were closed but he wasn’t asleep, and dappled light fell across his face, making his eyelashes cast shadows over flushed, freckled cheeks. He played with the bedding near Andrew’s hand, plucking at the fabric and smoothing it out again. All sense of desperation that accompanied their touches was gone, replaced with the softer need to simply be near each other. A smile tugged at Neil’s kiss-swollen lips and Andrew untangled his hand and traced it with his thumb.

Neil peeked open an eye and kissed the pad of Andrew’s finger. Andrew slid his hand around to the back of Neil’s neck and brushed the soft curls at his nape. Neil shifted so he was laying on his back and stretched, raising his arms above him and arching his back like a cat. He let his arms flop back down before turning his head back to Andrew and hooking their pinkies.

“We leave tomorrow,” Andrew said softly, not wanting to disturb the peace of the late afternoon.

“Palmetto,” Neil breathed. Andrew heard the quiet awe in his voice and fought back a frown. He told Neil not to get his hopes up – that they didn’t fully know if it would even work. But.

But Andrew felt the same small tug in his heart, the fell swoop in his stomach when he thought of a life with Neil – not just a life but a beginning, and an end without all the uncertainty. This was their chance, and Andrew wanted it badly.

It was too much to dwell upon, and thinking about it made Andrew’s heart ache – with anticipation and worry and everything in between. It was easier to think about the steps before, packing their things, leaving the hotel, boarding the train and arriving in Palmetto to introduce Neil to the rest of the timeless. This was certainty where everything after was not. This was easier, safer.

But the wonder in Neil’s eyes held, despite the hesitance in Andrew’s. Of course Andrew wanted it, not just for Neil but also for himself – mortality – but Neil wanted it most of all. He didn’t say it out loud, and he didn’t need to. Andrew could see his aching want to finally be released from the void after so many agonizing years in every line and twitch of his body.

Years of apathy and carefully cutting his emotions out like a tumor couldn’t stopper the flood of anxiety and dread in Andrew’s chest. Neil had made him feel, the thawing of a glacier, the drip, drip, drip of ice melting away to reveal the interior that had long since frozen over. Andrew, albeit slowly, was getting warm again. Except with the warmth, came fear.

And Andrew was very much afraid.

He could lose Neil forever. He, himself, could die without even knowing if he had saved Neil at all. Something could go wrong; Neil could be reclaimed by the void and Andrew wouldn’t know where to find him if he came back. He’d be lost, lost. Andrew couldn’t go through that again.

This was it. This was their only chance. Their only hope for their own salvation. Everything in Andrew told him to throw it out, get rid of it before it could take root and cause damage when it inevitably failed. Although he hadn’t felt it in decades, he was all too familiar with the dangerous tether called hope, and the sinking weight it always seemed to be attached to.

Andrew took a deep, steadying breath, and was relieved to hear it wasn’t as shaky as he felt on the inside. Neil’s eyes were droopy, and Andrew knew he was well on his way to sleep. The light was already fading, taking the radiance and the brilliant colors with it. Soon it would be dark, and then it would be time to go.

Andrew no longer had all the time in the world, and he could feel a new clock ticking in his chest, right alongside his heartbeat.

~

Palmetto was unchanged in the years Andrew had lived there. It was untouched by time, like the people that inhabited it. To outside eyes, it still looked like a university, even though the school had been closed down nearly twenty years ago due to education being transferred largely online. Few physical schools remained standing, and Palmetto was one of the last to be repurposed.

The tall white and orange buildings were still an eyesore, but Andrew had lived there for the past two years of his life, and he almost considered it a home. Neil’s eyes were wide as he took in the campus. His hand hung from the strap of Andrew’s duffel that he insisted on carrying, and he took a few steps towards the fence before rocking to a stop.

“This place used to be a school?” he asked.

Andrew had explained Palmetto’s history on the train ride there. It was only a forty-minute ride, the duration greatly reduced by the speed of the train, but it was more than enough time for him to tell Neil how Palmetto came to be, and how David Wymack went from coaching a college sports team to founding a safe house for the timeless.

The real function of Palmetto was largely unknown to the general public. Most people thought it was some sort of research facility – which wasn’t exactly untrue. But Palmetto’s resources were more expansive than that, and if an immortal or a time traveler were in need of help – or a void walker, in Neil’s case – Palmetto would find a way to help them.

“I told Wymack we’d be back today,” Andrew said, urging Neil to keep walking. “He’s an ornery old man and will be pissy if kept waiting.”

Andrew led Neil to the Lab. It used to be an Exy court, and by the look of Neil’s expression – like he had just swallowed a lemon – he could tell. Neil shot him a look but Andrew stared at him blankly.

“I’ll take you to the court in Columbia if you behave,” Andrew said before Neil could complain about the mistreatment of a former Exy court. Neil rolled his eyes but stopped when he saw the man waiting for them in the lobby.

“Andrew,” Wymack grunted in greeting. He didn’t look like a coach or a director of anything, dressed in jeans and a plain t-shirt, the flames of his tattoo climbing up his arms like ivy on a wall. His face was grizzled and lined from years of life and dealing with the misfits that inhabited the place. “I hope you’re not bringing more trouble to my door.”

Andrew stopped next to Neil and inclined his head towards Wymack with a blank stare. “Don’t be rude, Coach. He has a name.”

Neil shot Andrew an annoyed look for that, which Andrew smoothly ignored. Wymack eyed Neil up and down, from his tattered shoes to the collection of scars on his face. The attention didn’t seem to bother Neil so much as it used to, Andrew supposed he was used to it, but he did shrink under Wymack’s gaze like he expected Wymack to find him lacking and throw him out on the doorstep. But despite his gruff words and posturing, Andrew knew Wymack could never turn down someone in need.

“You can leave the bag in your room,” he said to Andrew. “Then meet me back at the Lab. Abby wants to see you.” This, he directed to Neil. Neil nodded but his eyes flicked around the room like he was counting exits and escape plans. Andrew hadn’t seen him this flighty since they first met. Andrew nudged his shoulder and gestured for Neil to follow him. With one last glance back at the Lab, Neil hooked his finger through Andrew’s belt loop and let Andrew lead him to Fox Tower.

Renee was waiting for them in the hall when Andrew arrived at his door with Neil in tow. He wasn’t surprised to see her; he knew she would want to meet Neil after hearing so much about him from Andrew.

Renee’s white-blonde hair was pushed back behind her ears, revealing several gleaming piercings, five different studs and loops in each ear, and the pastel tips of her hair were cut just above her shoulders. A silver cross hung from her neck, nearly tucked underneath her white button-down blouse. She smiled when she caught sight of the pair, Andrew first then Neil behind him. When they were close enough, Renee offered a hand for Neil to shake. Neil was hesitant, obviously wary of Renee’s serene expression, but took her hand and shook it once.

“Neil,” Renee said, her voice sweet, “Andrew has told me a lot about you. I’m Renee.”

Neil mumbled a hello and dropped his hand. Renee didn’t seem perturbed by his hesitance, instead she turned to Andrew and smiled again. She reached out her arm and Andrew let her pull him into a short hug. “It’s good to see you again, Andrew.”

“I’ve been gone a week. You people act like it’s been a year.”

“It’s been a lot longer for me, you know,” Renee countered neatly. Renee, like Wymack, was a time traveler. Andrew quirked an eyebrow at her but Renee’s calm smile betrayed nothing. Usually Renee spent her free time in the 1940’s, her girlfriend’s timeline. Andrew assumed she had been spending a lot of time with her, then.

“I hope you didn’t forget you were supposed to be watching my cat,” Andrew said, stepping past Renee and digging in his pocket for his keys.

“Of course I didn’t forget about King,” Renee said. “She missed you.”

Neil perked up at that. “You still have King?” he asked, craning his neck to see past Andrew’s shoulder. Andrew had barely opened the door before Neil slipped past him and let the duffel bag fall off his shoulder when he spotted the mangy gray furball lounging on the couch.

Andrew nodded his head towards Renee in thanks before following Neil inside. For the past two years, this had been his place to stay, somewhere he didn’t have to move on from before too many people noticed that he didn’t age. Cat toys were scattered across the living room, and he had actual furniture and a room with a bed and a mattress with sheets on it. Andrew had never been able to settle down anywhere for long, it was too risky and too much work to keep up pretenses of a normal life. But this was his, and this could be permanent if he so chooses.

King picked herself up from the couch and stretched before winding her body around Neil’s and Andrew’s legs. King had always been a friendly cat, but she headbutted Neil’s open palm with particular affection, purring loudly like an engine of an old car. She remembered him, Andrew realized, and noted the quiet satisfaction in his chest.

“Hi lovely,” Neil cooed, and Andrew should not have found it as endearing as he did. “It’s been awhile.”

King meowed in seeming agreement.

Andrew stooped down to scratch King behind the ears before scooping up the duffel Neil dropped and throwing it in the bedroom. Neil was seated on the couch, King kneading his thigh as he petted her. Andrew watched them for a moment, unnoticed in the hallway, before interrupting with a small tug on Neil’s hoodie.

“Come on,” he said. “Pissy old man waiting.”

“Right,” Neil said, and lowered King off his lap and back onto the couch.

Abby and Wymack were waiting in the lab when Andrew and Neil arrived. Abby wore a long lab coat, the white sleeves rolled up her arms and a clipboard clasped in her hands. She projected calm and support like she always did when a new time traveler or baby immortal showed up on Palmetto’s steps, and she must have sensed Neil’s anxiety. It was rolling off of him in waves. Andrew slid his hand to the back of Neil’s neck and gripped firmly. Neil twitched, leaning into Andrew’s hand the tiniest amount and drinking in the strength Andrew lent him.

“Neil Josten,” Abby said, transferring her clipboard to one hand so Neil could shake her hand. “I’m Doctor Abigail Winfield but you may call me Abby.”

“Hullo,” Neil said dully and shook her hand before slipping it into the pocket of his hoodie.

Abby smiled. It wasn’t the sweet, calm smile of Renee’s, or the goofy smile that split Matt Boyd’s face wide open. Her smile was meant for comfort. “It must be strange coming to this place full of people you don’t know who already seem to know you.”

“I have Andrew to blame for that,” Neil said without heat. His shoulders dropped a fraction and Andrew squeezed his neck once. “You think you can fix me?”

“I believe there is a procedure that may help you. I will tell you more about it tomorrow, but I’d really like to give you a tour of Palmetto and tell you more about the timeless. If that’s alright with you.”

Neil nodded slowly.

“Great.” Abby smiled her warm smile again and motioned to Wymack. “David will be accompanying us. Andrew –” Abby said to him, “are you coming with?”

Andrew looked to Neil, studying his face, the deep furrow between his brows and the small pucker of his lips. “I’ll be okay,” Neil said.

“He doesn’t need a babysitter.” Andrew tapped his finger on the back of Neil’s neck and withdrew his hand. “I’ll be at the Tower when you’re done.”

~

“There’s no one else like me,” Neil said a couple hours later, flopping down on Andrew’s bed. “But she said I’m similar to a time traveler.”

Andrew frowned, shoving around in the cupboard for something to eat. He was almost hungry. He hadn’t felt his stomach growl for nearly two hundred years and that – that was weird. It must have been some sort of placebo effect. “But you’re not time traveling at all. You live through all the years and you don’t age.”

Neil shrugged, an awkward motion from the way he was sunk in the mattress, his arms outstretched by his sides. “Maybe I do age though.” Andrew looked at him. “I mean, not in the void. But outside of it. I don’t know. Do I look like I’m twenty-four probably going on twenty-five?”

“You look the same as you always do. Except with more sulking.”

Neil groaned, throwing his hands up and letting them fall over his face. “This is so fucking weird. I don’t even know what time sick means. How can a soul be infected with time? That doesn’t make any sense.”

Andrew hummed noncommittally. He’d heard the spiel from Abby countless times: Immortals were souls separated from time and time travelers were souls intertwined with it. Mortals were souls dictated and void walkers, apparently, were souls infected by time. Andrew didn’t understand how it worked either, but at least it was straight forward.

“Everything’s just so overwhelming,” Neil muttered from the bed. Giving up his search for food, Andrew sat on the foot of the mattress beside Neil and waited for him to uncover his face. “My life has been a constant cycle of short lives and long deaths for decades, and now everything’s changing and it’s just so much information all at once.”

That, Andrew could understand. Going from living in shitty apartments and working temporary jobs, moving on every couple months or years, to staying in one place and being surrounded by people who understood – it was overwhelming. Andrew stretched out beside Neil, leaning on his elbow and pushing back the fringe of Neil’s hair from his forehead.

“We could look for another solution,” Andrew said quietly. Neil’s brow crinkled.

Andrew wasn’t surprised when he shook his head fervently and said, “No. This is it, there isn’t going to be another chance after this.”

“Did Abby tell you about the procedure, then?” Andrew asked, hesitantly. He wondered how Neil reacted. He wondered if he knew. If he knew what Andrew was planning, if he knew what could happen.

“A little. She didn’t go into details but she said it’s really risky and has only been attempted once before.” Neil perked up. “Kevin Day. It was successful for him. He was a time traveler, so was Kayleigh Day. Did you know that Wymack is his father?”

“I did,” Andrew said, grateful for his junkie’s addiction to Exy for the first time in his very long life. He didn’t know, then. He would never let it slide if he did. Andrew let out a small breath.

“He coaches the Foxes too. Imagine having a whole other life outside of your own timeline….” Neil trailed off. He frowned and worried at his lip. Andrew waited for him to spit it out. “Some people have two lives and I barely have one. Not one that matters, anyway.”

Andrew shifted so he was lying flush with Neil. They were pressed together from ankle to hip, hip to shoulder. Neil scooted over to make more space for the both of them and turned his head to face Andrew. “I mean, I have you and that matters. But I can’t even keep it for longer than a couple months at most.”

There was a sadness in Neil’s eyes, a yearning for something just out of reach. Andrew was familiar with that feeling too, and he hated it. He reached up, his hand trailing a path up Neil’s chest and jaw, and pressed his thumb into the corner of Neil’s mouth. “Even just a couple months is worth it with you.”

Neil’s face crumpled as he finally let his worry and fear from the past couple days, past couple decades break free and overflow like a dam bursting from holding back millions of gallons of water for far too long. He leaned in close, forehead barely brushing Andrew’s and let Andrew cradled his face with one hand.

Neither one of them moved until the shadows in the room took on a different dance. It was only in the late afternoon, but Neil’s breathing was getting slower, the rise and fall of his chest dragging until he was asleep. Andrew’s hand was still wedged between the bed and Neil’s cheek, but not wanting to disturb him, Andrew stayed where he was. Until there was a quiet knock at the door.

The three unhurried raps told Andrew that the matter wasn’t urgent, but no one would be knocking on his door if it weren’t important. Andrew wiggled his hand out from underneath Neil’s head and got up to answer the door.

“Hello, Andrew,” Betsy Dobson said when Andrew opened the door. Her round face was warm and open, and Andrew was grateful to see her.

“Bee,” Andrew greeted, and opened the door wider as an invitation to come in. “Neil’s asleep, but he sleeps like the dead.”

“I won’t be long.” Betsy didn’t step inside, but she inclined her head towards Andrew. “I was actually hoping to have a word with you.”

Andrew glanced back at Neil one more time, curled around the pillow in Andrew’s vacancy, and followed Betsy outside. The hallway was empty when they stepped outside, but Betsy continued down to the elevators and out of the Tower. They walked around the green, a large grassy area edged with trees and shrubs. A few birds chirped as they passed, but it was mostly quiet.

“It’s nice out today, don’t you think?” Betsy said, watching a bird hop from branch to branch above their heads. Andrew said nothing. It was relatively warm, but there was a chill in the wind that meant it would only get colder in the coming months. Winters have been shorter lately, but Andrew still despised the cold.

“What did you want to talk about,” Andrew asked in his dull monotone. Abby was the first to figure out Andrew’s plan, and she told Wymack immediately. But they couldn’t stop him, this was Andrew’s choice and he wasn’t going to let them talk him out of it. He wondered if Abby sent Betsy to try and dissuade him.

Instead, Betsy surprised Andrew. “I think,” she said, “that it would be beneficial for you to accompany me back in time.”

Andrew blinked. Betsy studied his carefully constructed mask and continued, “We’ve talked about your family before in our sessions and you said that you would have liked to have more closure over their deaths. I would like to give that to you.”

“You can take people through time with you?” Andrew asked, keeping his voice flat, his face even. He knew the answer to that question already because Renee had told him, but he couldn’t quite prod his brain into working.

Betsy nodded. “It is difficult, but possible. I’ve done it for several patients in the past and I believe this could be good for you.” Betsy stopped to nudge a pebble back into the dirt on the side of the path with her foot before continuing. “However, there are rules that must be followed. But I trust you will not find that difficult.”

Andrew swallowed. What Betsy was offering him, it didn’t seem plausible. She was a time traveler, and she could travel to any part of the past, no matter how far, but this wasn’t just time travel. This was seeing Nicky and Aaron again after two hundred years. This was finally saying goodbye. The thought almost made something in Andrew stir. He didn’t let it.

“I’ll give you a couple of days to think about it, and if you decide to go, I’ll prepare you.”

When Andrew didn’t respond, they circled around the green and headed back to Fox Tower. Betsy didn’t bring up Andrew’s family again but she filled in the silence with idle chat about the places she traveled to since Andrew was gone. They parted ways at his door, and Neil was still asleep when Andrew slipped back inside.

~

“You should do it,” Neil said between mouthfuls of noodles. He woke up right before dinnertime craving Chinese so Andrew ordered takeout for them to share. Four containers of food were scattered between them, and Andrew was fending off Neil’s fork with his own from the orange chicken. “When you see Aaron and Nicky, you could tell them to leave the house before it explodes and save their lives.”

Andrew shook his head, sifting through the fried rice for another piece of egg. “I can’t do anything that would change the timeline. At most, I would say goodbye and leave again. Anything else could get Bee and me stuck in a time loop.”

Neil grimaced and stole a piece of Andrew’s orange chicken. Andrew leveled him a glare but Neil popped it in his mouth with a smug glint in his eye. When he swallowed his stolen chicken he said, “Still, closure is good too. It would be nice to see them again.”

Maybe. It was true that Andrew never had the chance to say goodbye. It left him with a nagging hole in his side that dogged him throughout the years, no matter how much it had started to heal over. But Andrew didn’t know if he could be so close to them, knowing what was going to happen to them. He couldn’t go back and be helpless to save them just for a goodbye that they wouldn’t even know was a goodbye.

“If I can be fixed, then you can have a chance to see your family again, Andrew,” Neil said, meal forgotten. His gaze was keen on Andrew’s, open and earnest and Andrew wanted to resent him for it but he couldn’t.

“I’ll tell Bee I’ll go with her,” Andrew acquiesced, “and you’ll talk to Abby about the procedure. Tomorrow.”

Neil smiled. “Deal.”

~

After a breakfast made up of syrupy pancakes and eggs in the cafeteria with some of the others, Andrew and Neil split ways. Neil headed to the lab where Abby was waiting for him while Andrew walked the long, winding path to Betsy’s office. It wasn’t far from Fox Tower; Andrew spent the ten minutes it took to get there stepping over the cracks in the concrete and watching with interest as the birds hopped from branch to branch over his head. The sky was clear, devoid of any clouds and airplanes, and a light blue that reminded Andrew of a robin’s egg.

He kicked a rock with the toe of his boot and watched it skip across the sidewalk and disappear in the shrubs, scaring a couple pigeons taking shelter underneath the thick green branches. It was October already, but the leaves on the trees were still slow to change and the air was barely cool enough to warrant more than a long-sleeved shirt.

Betsy seemed to be waiting for him when he arrived outside her office. She wasn’t the only therapist in the building, but she specified with people dealing with the effects and consequences of time. Andrew wondered how well known the existence of immortals and time travelers were, if people knew about them and simply didn’t care or if it was all kept hush hush. He’d looked online the days before Palmetto, when he was searching for a way to help Neil, and maybe for other people like him, but he didn’t find much more than speculation and theories.

Andrew shook away the thought and raised his fist to knock. Betsy opened the door with a smile, not at all surprised to see him. “Andrew,” she greeted warmly, like she had every time Andrew found himself on her doorstep. “Would you like to come in? I was just about to warm up some milk for cocoa.”

Andrew took the invitation and found his usual seat on the lumpy couch with his back to the door. Betsy stuck a couple mugs in her ancient microwave – the yellow one with ‘time is of the essence!’ printed on it that Andrew had given to her as a joke, and the green stripy one that Andrew liked.

Andrew watched the cups turn on the glass plate inside before tearing his eyes away. He took a steadying breath and said, “I want to see my family.”

“There are rules, ones that must be followed very, very carefully,” Betsy said. “But I would be glad to take you.”

The microwave went off and Betsy removed the cups, stirring the milk with a tiny silver spoon. She spooned some of the caramel chocolate hot chocolate mix into both the mugs, and stirred them in. “Marshmallows?” she asked.

“Four marshmallows,” Andrew replied. It didn’t matter that he didn’t need to eat, or that the hot chocolate provided absolutely no nutritional benefit, he still enjoyed the warmth and sweetness of it. It was almost a ritual at this point, a cup of caramel chocolate cocoa with four marshmallows for every session with Bee.

Betsy handed over his mug and settled in the chair across from Andrew. “Time travel,” she said, “is a tricky thing. Time itself is fickle and cranky, if messed with or disturbed in any way, there will be consequences.”

“You talk about it like it’s a living thing,” Andrew said, sipping his cocoa.

Betsy smiled a knowing smile. “It is, in a way. It keeps our world running, it provides structure and keeps things moving smoothly. Like oil in gears. Even with people like me, who can grasp the strings of time and travel along them, there is still a certain rigidity to it. Control. We, not necessarily just mortals, are woven into the fabric of time.

“That is why it is so important that the time line must never be messed with. Small changes will most likely not have an effect, like running into someone or switching an apple for an orange. But bigger changes, like – ”

“ – preventing my family’s farm from blowing up will be detrimental and could change a lot more than their deaths,” Andrew interrupted, feeling irritated despite himself. “I know. The house blows up, my family dies, I become immortal. I’m not going to mess with that.”

“There are always loopholes, Andrew. Ways to get around the timeline without disrupting it. That’s what it means to be a time traveler, and that’s what is going to allow us to travel to the past.” Betsy set her cocoa on the table in front of her and laced her hands together. “Now, I know that it was a long time ago and memories can be faulty, but I need you to remember a time that we can jump to. It is of utmost importance that your past self never sees you, otherwise we will be doing a lot more than changing timelines.”

Andrew frowned. He didn’t like it, but it would have to work. “Right before the fire should work. I won’t be off from the pub for another couple hours but Aaron and Nicky should be at the house still.”

Betsy smiled. “Perfect. I will have to prep you, before we go. Time travel can be very uncomfortable to people who have never done it before. And if anything goes wrong, then you could be lost in time forever.”

That didn’t seem particularly pleasant, but Andrew motioned with his hand for Betsy to continue.

“Time travel feels a lot like being pulled through a thin straw. Your lungs will constrict and your body will feel too tight. Some people even feel like they’re underwater or that their heads are too big for their bodies. I suggest holding your breath. Luckily, the whole ordeal will only last for a couple seconds at most, and then it’s over.” Betsy leaned back in her chair, sipping at her hot chocolate. “We don’t have to worry about period-accurate clothing, since we will only be there long enough for you to talk to Aaron and Nicky. We will be in and out.”

“Okay,” Andrew said.

“Okay. Ready?”

Andrew stared. “Like, right now?”

“Why not?” Betsy’s eyes twinkled. “What better time than now?”

Andrew’s throat suddenly felt very dry. He placed his mug on the table and stood up. Betsy smiled and followed suit. Andrew watched as Betsy smoothed the lines from her shirt and adjusted the large, jeweled necklace she wore that day. He hadn’t realized that they’d be ready to go right away, it seemed too fast. Andrew’s heart sped up, in just a couple seconds he would be back in 1897 and he would see Aaron and Nicky again, talk to them even…

“What time is it exactly?” Betsy asked.

“December 16, 1897. The fire was in the evening so…seven. If we go around three in the afternoon, we should be fine.”

Betsy held out her hand and Andrew gripped it with his own. “Hold your breath,” she said, and then the ground was ripped from underneath Andrew’s feet.

Betsy was right – time travel was extremely uncomfortable. Andrew’s lungs tightened, and although he didn’t need to breathe it was horribly disorienting. He couldn’t see anything, whether it was because there was nothing to see or because Andrew couldn’t quite peel his eyes open, he didn’t know. He was hurting through the air, faster than the speed of light, he was falling, falling, falling, and then it was over.

Andrew opened his eyes, sucking in a breath of air he didn’t need. At first all he saw was light so bright it sent a spike through his skull and if it weren’t for Betsy’s steadying hand on his shoulder, he would have toppled right over into the snow. Andrew blinked until his vision cleared. Shit.The house, the roof intact, no burn marks, no ash coating the ground and turning the snow into a dirty slush. Everything as it was two hundred years ago. Then was now. They’d traveled back in time.

“I’ll wait in the barn,” Betsy said, breaking Andrew from his tiny existential crisis. “I recommend we leave in about thirty minutes.”

Andrew nodded, still a bit dazed from the jump. He approached the house; his feet and hands numb from cold and shock. The door opened and Nicky stepped outside, a basket propped on one hip and his free hand shielding his eyes from the sun. He caught sight of Andrew and carefully placed the basket on the porch away from the snow. Nicky walked toward him, unhurried like he had just seen Andrew a few hours before.

“Andrew!” Nicky called. His white shirt was dirty and he had suspenders hooked to his battered tweed trousers. He hopped down the steps to stand in front of Andrew, boots leaving deep indents in the snow. He was smiling but he looked confused. “What are you doing here? I thought you were at the pub. Uh, what are you wearing?”

Andrew didn’t respond, he couldn’t, not when the words were lodged in his throat. He took in Nicky’s button up shirt and thick jacket. Andrew remembered that jacket, of course he did. Nicky never went anywhere without it during the winter months and he had gotten Aaron and Andrew similar ones for their birthday a few years back.

“Andrew?” Nicky asked, frowning. His brow scrunched. He knew not to touch Andrew, especially when he was in a bad mood, but he wavered on his feet like he was thinking about it anyway. “Are you okay? If I didn’t know any better, I’d think you’d seen a ghost.” Nicky gave a little laugh, but Andrew could still see the concern in his brown eyes.

“I meant to fix the gate,” Andrew said. He still couldn’t wrap his mind around all of this. He’d been alive for two hundred years and never aged a day, but the thought of going through time, backwards instead of forward, was what dumbfounded him.

Nicky smiled, shaking his head. “That’s okay, you can just do it tonight. Or tomorrow, whichever. I’m making dinner tonight, stew with potatoes and carrots, all the good stuff. I went into town today and got everything. I was able to sell those hens I was telling you about.”

The door to the house opened again and Aaron poked his head outside, likely trying to see who Nicky was talking to. He caught sight of Andrew and raised his eyebrows.

“Skipping your job, too?” he called. “We need the money, Andrew.”

“It’s only a couple hours,” Andrew retorted. It was instinct to bicker with his brother after all. Even after so long he remembered the arguments, getting on Aaron’s nerves and Aaron getting on his. Each one the end of the world, now it all seemed so irrelevant now.

Aaron rolled his eyes. “Come inside at least. We can’t afford for y’all to get sick. And what the fuck are you wearing?”

It was warm in the house, with the wood stove burning away in the corner. The wood cracked and Andrew remembered the house collapsing, Aaron and Nicky trapped inside.

Betsy said he couldn’t change the timeline. But for a moment Andrew debated telling Nicky and Aaron to leave, to go to the pub and stay out of the house. He thought about turning the stove off completely, dumping all the smoldering, cracking longs into the snow outside and letting them cool where they wouldn’t harm anything.

For a long moment, the urge to stop all of this was so strong Andrew could feel the words on the tip of his tongue. Leave. Get away from here. He reined it in before he could do anything stupid.

Betsy’s words echoed in his head, there are loopholes, Andrew. Loopholes, loopholes, loopholes…

Nicky was chattering away in the kitchen, puttering about, while Aaron sat at the table, bent over a book. He was trying to get into the fancy university a few towns over in the big city to become a doctor. He studied all through that summer and winter, up until the very moment of the fire, it seemed. The books must have burned up in the flames too, pages curling, turning to black ash. If Aaron and Nicky didn’t survive, there was no way these books did.

They never found their bodies, Andrew had said to Neil once. Technically, these coffins are empty.

“There was a pretty gal I saw in town today, Aaron,” Nicky said from the kitchen. “Think you might be interested. She looked smart too.”

Aaron’s eyes flickered up from his book to meet Andrew’s and then back down again. There was a dark smudge of ink on his cheekbone “I don’t need a gal if I’m headin’ to school.”

Loopholes, loopholes.

“I know that, but in the meantime – ”

“I’m from the future,” Andrew said abruptly, putting the words out there before he could convince himself not to. A crash from the kitchen told Andrew that Nicky had dropped a pan, and Aaron was staring at Andrew like he’d grown two heads, book suddenly forgotten.

“The fuck,” Aaron said. Nicky fell from around the corner of the kitchen, mouth gaping open like a fish.

Andrew didn’t have time for this. The sun was already cresting the sky and beginning to sink. “I’m from the year 2077 and in a couple hours, you both are going to die. But you don’t have to.”

“Well Andrew’s officially lost it,” Aaron said, blinking like he hadn’t been betting on it for three years.

“Are you feeling okay, Andrew?” Nicky asked.

They never found their bodies.

Loopholes…

If Andrew brought Aaron and Nicky back with him to his present-day, the unattended stove still blows, the house still burns down, and past-Andrew still buries empty caskets. The timeline remains intact and Andrew’s family doesn’t die. Andrew never asked what would happen if they took someone from the past to present-day, but he knew it couldn’t have been that big of a deal considering Allison Reynold’s frequent appearances at Renee’s side.

Aaron and Nicky took a bit of convincing, and although they still looked thoroughly bewildered, they followed Andrew outside and into the barn Betsy was waiting in. Betsy’s lips thinned into a line when she saw them behind Andrew, but she waited for Andrew’s explanation.

“Their bodies were never found,” Andrew said. Betsy looked unconvinced. “If we take them away now, nothing gets changed. The timeline will not be disrupted.”

Betsy said nothing. She looked behind Andrew’s shoulder, to Aaron and Nicky. Aaron was staring hard at Andrew, eyes flicking from him to Betsy as he tried to make sense of what was happening. Nicky looked scared, eyes wide, shifting from foot to foot.

“Okay,” Betsy said. Andrew let his shoulders relax a notch. Then she turned to Aaron and Nicky palms outstretched, and smiled her warm smile. “This will feel very awkward, but whatever you do, don’t let go of mine and Andrew’s hands.”

~

The first thing they did when they got back was deliver Aaron and Nicky to the lab. They couldn’t go anywhere without getting a number of vaccines first, and when they were done – they had to come back in two weeks for round two – Andrew and Betsy introduced them to Wymack. He was not impressed with Andrew’s stunt, but unsurprised. As per usual with Andrew.

The entire time Nicky and Aaron gazed around them with wide eyes. Fox Tower was far from the tallest building in the area, but it was still impressively tall to Nicky and Aaron, who had never seen a skyscraper before. Nicky was practically jumping on the balls of his feet through the quick tour before getting the key to his room. Aaron was much quieter, but the look of amazement on his face never left as he studied every inch of the future.

“2077?” Aaron asked. When Andrew nodded, he said, “But how? You should be dead.”

“Later,” Andrew said, and gave him a push on the shoulder. When Aaron and Nicky were safely in their temporary room in the dorms, Andrew went back to his own room.

Neil wasn’t at the lab when Andrew arrived with Aaron and Nicky in tow, so Andrew assumed that he was already waiting inside. It was nearly six, and Andrew felt burnt out from all that had happened. Jumping through time, twice, seeing his old home, seeing his family again after so long. It was too much thrown at him all at once, no matter how he tried to prepare himself, and Andrew was exhausted. He didn’t want to do anything else, he wanted to close the door behind him, take a deep breath, and settle in with Neil for the night. He could check on Aaron and Nicky again tomorrow, but for the time being he was done and he was shutting himself off from the rest of the world.

The suite was dark when Andrew entered, the only light emanating from the kitchen. Andrew wondered in Neil was already in the bedroom, if he too was tired of the day. King was sprawled on the couch in the living room, fluffy tail flicking with acknowledgement when Andrew scratched behind her ears. She yawned, stretching her legs before curling up on the cushion and falling asleep again.

Andrew didn’t feel like eating anything, he felt like changing out his jeans for sweatpants and curling up next to Neil under the blankets until morning. He reached for the kitchen light to turn if off but paused when he found Neil sitting alone at the table.

It didn’t look like he had eaten, there was nothing in front of him, no plate or even a cup of coffee, and there were no dishes in the sink. He sat perfectly still, back oddly straight in his chair, head bowed and staring at his hands clasped in his lap.

“Neil,” Andrew said quietly, thinking he must have been spacing, drifting somewhere in the void in his head. But Neil’s hands clenched and when he spoke, his voice was low, measured and careful.

“Were you ever planning on telling me?”

Andrew blinked. Uneasiness wormed its way into his stomach, making him feel unsettled and antsy. “Tell you what?”

Neil stood up from the table and when he turned around, Andrew could see how tight his face was, how the muscles in his jaw bobbed when he ground his teeth. There was a quiet sort of fury in his eyes. Blue pinpoints of fire. Andrew felt his shoulders lifting, his back going rigid with tension.

“The procedure requires a donor,” Neil said and cursed inwardly. “You knew that. Abby told me you were volunteered yourself.”

“It won’t kill me,” Andrew felt the need to say.

“Really?” Neil said. There was a hysterical edge to his voice and Andrew thought he might crack right open. “I’ll be sucking the life out of you Andrew. That doesn’t sound like death?”

“You’ll be sucking the time out of me, actually.”

“This isn’t fucking funny!” Neil’s voice had risen to a shout. “Did you seriously think that I wouldn’t realize? Or that I would be fine with it, that I wouldn’t fucking care that you sacrificed yourself just so I can live for another couple shitty years?”

Andrew ground his teeth together. “It won’t kill me, Neil. I’m just giving you time, something that I have plenty of. It’s been done once before and – ”

“And Kayleigh Day died. She hooked herself up to the fucking machines and it took everything out of her and she died.”

“Kevin Day lived. You’ll live too.”

“I don’t want to if you’re not with me. How can you expect me to just move on after this?” Neil said, incredulous. “After so long of only being allowed to be around enough to see that the world’s moved on without me only to die again before I could do something about it.” He paced the kitchen as he ranted, voice thick with anger. He made a cutting gesture with his hand and turned on Andrew again. “I’ve spent more time in the void than I’ve even been alive and I don’t know how to deal with that.”

“And you think I want to do it?” Andrew snarled. “I’ve lived for far too long and I’m sick of losing everyone who has ever mattered. I’m tired, Neil. I’m fucking tired of this shit.”

Neil shook his head. He’d stopped pacing and now he stood in the middle of the kitchen, shoulders hunched and fists curled loosely at his sides. The fluorescent light from the ceiling cast him in a yellow glow, washing out the fine details of him. He looked like a grainy photograph, old and warped with age. The furious wrinkle between his brows tightened as dragged his glare from the floor to Andrew’s face, mouth twitching as he thought of the words he wanted to say.

“I’m not going to help you kill yourself,” he decided on. “This is my choice, and I won’t go through with it.”

“You’re being ridiculous.”

Neil didn’t say anything, just shook his head with that stubborn set to his mouth. Andrew took a step toward him but he held out his hand for Andrew to stop. “Just – just – ” he said. He made another sharp gesture with his hand before brushing past Andrew. “I’m going for a run.” He slammed the door shut on the way out.

Andrew kicked the leg of the table with a frustrated growl. He did it again, for good measure, and sunk into the chair Neil had vacated. He rubbed at his eyes, tired, too tired, and thought about going next door to where he’d left Aaron and Nicky but decided against it.

He didn’t know what he was doing anymore. He was just so fucking tired and he didn’t have the energy to find any other ways to pull himself through. His chest was tight, reminding Andrew a little of time traveling with Betsy, and for the first time in two centuries Andrew thought he might be dying.

Neil might be dying. He’d left so quickly Andrew couldn’t stop him, and who knew when he was due for another death. This argument that left Andrew feeling so drained could have been the last time he ever talked to Neil, ever saw him. He didn’t even say goodbye.

Tugging on his hair once, Andrew let his head drop to the table with a thunk. He stayed like that until he felt King’s soft fur against his legs and heard her quiet meow as she jumped up on the table. She knocked her head against Andrew’s and Andrew crooked his fingers in her fur, not petting or stroking her soft coat, just holding on.

It was hours later when the door opened and Neil returned, seemingly unharmed. Andrew had since moved to the couch to stare at the blank TV screen. He hadn’t bothered turning it on, he wouldn’t be able to focus on it or even hear the words over his loud thoughts.

Neil slipped in the room like a shadow. He closed the door behind him, toed off his shoes, and leaned against the wall with a heavy sigh, studying Andrew with an unreadable expression on his face. He didn’t look angry anymore, but Andrew detected the same ragged weariness he felt.

“I didn’t think you would come back,” Andrew said quietly.

“I wouldn’t just leave,” Neil replied, just as quiet.

“That’s not what I meant.”

Neil pushed off from the wall and sunk down on the cushion next to Andrew’s. He left several inches between them, close enough that Andrew could see his throat bob when he swallowed, but far away enough that he couldn’t feel his warmth. “I know,” Neil said and tipped his head back to rest against the back of the couch.

Seconds seemed to stretch into minutes in this silence, Neil tracking the pattern in the ceiling with his eyes, brow furrowed, and Andrew watching him do it. “I’m not fragile, Andrew. I’m not going to break as soon as someone touches me. You spend so much time worrying about me that you forget about yourself and I hate it. Whether or not I agree with the procedure, it is my choice and I don’t want you to get hurt.”

Andrew thought about saying nothing, thought about letting that hang between them before it dissipated. But he didn’t want to fight anymore. They didn’t have the time. “If we don’t do anything then you’re going to die again,” he said. “There are no other ways.”

Neil tipped his head to look at him. His eyes looked like black pools in the lack of light. “I know that. But what if I wake up and you’re gone?” He inhaled a shaky breath. “I don’t know what I would do.”

This time, when Andrew moved toward him, Neil met him halfway. Andrew wrapped a hand around the back of Neil’s neck and pulled his head down on his shoulder. Neil’s breathing was erratic, broken as he hiccupped for air.

“Breathe, Neil,” Andrew said as if that could coax the air into Neil’s lungs by itself. “Just breathe.”

“I don’t want to lose you,” Neil gasped. He was shaking, trembling like a leaf. Andrew grabbed his hand and squeezed. “I can’t lose you.”

“I’m not going anywhere.”

Neil took a shuddering breath and let his head drop to Andrew’s chest, the tension draining from his body. He was still for a moment before he tugged far away enough to look Andrew in the eyes. “If I go through with this,” he said, eyes wide, desperate, “you have to promise me that you won’t go too far.”

Looking at Neil like this, falling apart while trying so hard to keep it together, Andrew would have given him anything. “I promise,” he said.

~

The next morning, Andrew went with Neil to the lab. Abby was at a table with a couple other people in lab coats when they entered, but Abby dismissed herself when she saw them.

“Hey,” she said, pushing up the sleeves of her lab coat and nodding at them. She turned to Neil. “You left kind of quickly yesterday. Everything alright?”

Neil nodded. “Just wasn’t feeling well. I’m fine.”

“Glad to hear it.” Abby turned her gaze on Andrew. “And Aaron and Nicky? How are they adjusting?”

Neil glanced at Andrew curiously. Andrew had filled him in after he had calmed down last night, but he hasn’t seen them yet. Aaron and Nicky were both dead to the world when Andrew checked on them, snoring soundly in their beds. Betsy told him it was often a side-effect for first time travelers, and they’d likely be sleeping it off all day.

“Sleeping off the adverse effects of being pulled through a straw and spit out in the future.” Andrew shrugged. “They’ll get used to it.”

“Mhm.” Abby looked slightly befuddled at his answer but brushed it off. “So, what brings you to the lab?”

“I want to do the procedure. I want you to fix this,” Neil said, gesturing to himself.

“And a donor?” Abby asked, her voice affecting obliviousness. She slid a look in Andrew’s direction. She knew that he was planning on giving his time over to Neil, she’d told him so after all, but Andrew answered anyway.

“Me.”

“Great,” Abby said carefully. “We can set an appointment and I’ll get the equipment ready. I know you both know of the dangers,” she pinned them both with a look “and although medicine and the study of time has progressed immensely since the last time this procedure was attempted, I can trust that it won’t be taken lightly.”

It wasn’t phrased as a question, but there was a certain uptick to her voice that told Andrew differently. Neil nodded, taking a deep breath. “We know what we’re getting into,” he said, glancing at Andrew. “We’ve already talked about it and decided that this is the best decision.”

Abby smiled and reached out her hand to squeeze Neil’s shoulder. He tensed, but only for a moment. “It’s going to be okay,” she said. Neil nodded, averting his eyes, and took a step back.

“We should go,” he mumbled and nodded a goodbye to Abby.

~

It was dinner time when there was a knock on the suite door. Neil and Andrew decided to eat in tonight, not wanting to have to deal with anyone in the cafeteria. Andrew knew the looks made Neil uncomfortable, and if he were being honest with himself, he didn’t necessarily want to be around anyone else either.

Neil got up to open the door, and Nicky poked his head inside to find Andrew on seated on the couch. “There you are!” he said, and looked Neil up and down. “And who’s this sweetie?”

“Neil,” Andrew grunted. “Come in and shut the door behind you.”

Aaron shoved past Nicky, looking groggy and rumpled from sleep. Heavy bags under his eyes told him he still wasn’t finished sleeping off the time travel. He ignored Neil completely and slumped in one of the chairs at the kitchen table. Nicky snorted and mimed sleeping before plopping down on the couch next to Andrew.

“I like the future,” he said, stretching out his feet and folding his hands behind his head. “It’s super nice. Loud, but nice. I like that box thing with the pictures – what’s it called? Aaron?”

“A television,” Aaron mumbled, half asleep, eyes closed and chin propped up in his hand. “You’re loud, Nicky. The future suits you.”

“What’s new.” Nicky shrugged and nearly toppled over when Andrew pushed his feet off the coffee table. Nicky didn’t seem to mind. He eyed Neil, a little more than curiously, and said, “Are you an immortal thing too? A time traveler?”

“Void walker,” Neil said, still standing by the door.

“Oh? That sounds interesting. What do you do?”

“Die a lot.”

Nicky blanked, for once in his life at a loss for words. He laughed a little, glancing at Andrew to see if it was a joke and when he didn’t get a response he grimaced. “Oh, um.” He looked to Aaron for help but Aaron was asleep. He rallied quickly. “How long have you two known each other?”

“We’ve been together for eighty-two years,” Andrew said. Nicky’s eyes bulged, his mouth dropping open into a wide O.

“Together? As in…involved? Partners?” he asked, almost a whisper. Andrew wasn’t surprised that was the part he focused on, rather than Andrew has been alive for over eighty years and still looks to be in his mid-twenties. When Andrew nodded, he gasped. “That’s allowed?”

“Welcomed,” Andrew said, and Nicky looked like he was about to cry. Andrew made a mental note to tell him about pride later.

“I love the future,” he declared, slumping back into the couch with a loud sigh.

Turns out, Nicky also loved Chinese takeout. Aaron woke up at the smell of food and devoured two and a half cartons of orange chicken by himself. Nicky chattered away as they ate, asking questions about Andrew’s life since 1897 and what is was like being an immortal. He avoided the topic of Neil’s deaths, and Neil seemed to appreciate that. Instead he badgered Neil for information about Andrew and what it was like being with him.

“He used to have the worst sleeping habits,” Nicky said, shaking his head. “I would wake up hours before sunrise to find him bothering the chickens in the coup.” He leaned forward with his hand shielding his mouth as if he were telling a secret. He lowered his voice into a fake-whisper. “He won’t admit it but I know he found it amusing to try and catch them. I don’t know how he didn’t lose any fingers to those beasts.”

Neil laughed, darting a look at Andrew. Andrew pretended to be annoyed, but he couldn’t be, really. He didn’t think Aaron or Nicky could get on his nerves, not after missing them for two hundred years. Not that he’d tell them that. He wouldn’t want them to think they could start getting away with things, now would he.

Halfway through dinner, Andrew noticed Aaron’s heavy stare on the side of his face. He caught the small glances he shot between him and Neil, knew he was making the connections. Idly, Andrew wondered what Aaron thought of it but decided he didn’t care.

When Nicky had absorbed Neil into a conversation about electricity, Aaron leaned over and whispered to Andrew, “Our deal?”

Andrew leveled him a stare. Their deal, to him, seemed so long ago that it hardly mattered. But to Aaron, that was days ago. “Burned in a fire,” Andrew said. Aaron pursed his lips, regarding his brother for a long moment before nodding curtly.

It didn’t take long for Nicky to tire himself out and for Aaron to lead him back to their suite. When they were gone, Neil sat next to Andrew on the couch and folded his legs up underneath him. “Your family is nice,” he said.

Andrew quirked an eyebrow. “Insufferable, you mean.”

Neil huffed out a laugh and bumped his head against Andrew’s. Andrew caught him and directed his head to his shoulder. “But they’re here,” Neil said.

“Observant,” Andrew said.

Neil traced his pinky along the shell of Andrew’s ear. “Three days.”

Andrew’s mouth twitched downwards at the non-sequitur. It took him a moment to realize Neil was talking about the procedure. In three days, Abby was going to hook Neil and Andrew up to a machine and Andrew was going to give a bit of the time ingrained into his soul over to Neil. He still didn’t get it, didn’t even understand how it could be possible or how it would work, but he’s seen so many things that shouldn’t have been possible these past couple days, that he decided not to think too hard about it.

Three days. These past few weeks have moved fast, and Andrew could already feel the anxiety nagging at him. Neil only had to make it three more days until the procedure, but what if he didn’t? Andrew knew better than most how sudden someone’s death could be, and a thought echoed in his head: What if Neil never even made it through the night?

Or worse, what if he lasted the three days, only for something to go wrong? The procedure wasn’t only just dangerous for Andrew, it could kill Neil just as much as it could Andrew. All this way, all this time, only for Neil to die anyway. Andrew grit his teeth and focused his breathing in one of the exercises Betsy taught him.

There was nothing he could do now. Either Neil died, or he didn’t. The procedure worked, or it won’t. Andrew went too far and lost himself, or he didn’t.

Neil was asleep, Andrew realized with a bit of a surprise. He hadn’t realized how tired Neil really was until he heard the quiet snores coming from him. Carefully, as not to disturb him, Andrew scooped Neil up in his arms and carried him to the bedroom. He took off his shoes and threw them in the corner and switched out his jeans for one of Andrew’s pajama pants. Andrew didn’t bother changing himself because he didn’t plan on sleeping, but he tucked Neil in and sat on the edge of the bed, wishing for the first time in years for a cigarette, and waited.

~

The day of the procedure, Neil spaced out three times before breakfast. For the most part, Andrew kept him tethered with a hand on the back of his neck, squeezing just enough to bring Neil back when he drifted. Neil picked at his food, hardly eating anything more than a few bites of toast. They decided to forgo the cafeteria that morning, and when Neil had choked down a few more bites of toast slathered with strawberry jam, Andrew and Neil dressed quickly.

Andrew finished brushing his teeth and spat in the sink, letting the water wash away the toothpaste spit. Neil was walking around the suite behind him, rummaging through drawers and pacing groves in the carpeted floor. Andrew watched him, leaning against the edge of the sink with his arms folded loosely across his chest.

“The bathroom is free,” Andrew called. Neil looked up, his gaze distant and hazy.

“Thanks,” he replied after a beat that lasted too long.

They walked to the lab, Andrew a step behind and Neil lagging behind. Neil’s anxiety was palpable in the air in the way his silence was strained, and how he kept his eyes averted, darting all around him like he was scanning for threats. Andrew fisted the sleeve of Neil’s hoodie and Neil seemed to take comfort from that.

A medical intern waited for them in the lobby and directed them to one of the rooms in the back. When Andrew found Aaron and Nicky waiting there, he quirked an eyebrow in question.

Nicky smiled his toothy grin and hopped up from his seat next to Aaron. “Hey! Matt told us you and Neil would be doing your procedure thing today. Me and Aaron wanted to be here.”

Andrew didn’t roll his eyes, but it was a close thing. He should have known that Aaron and Nicky would have had breakfast in the cafeteria, and it was only a matter of time until the gossips did what they did best – gossiped. Andrew almost regretted introducing his brother and his cousin to the timeless. He didn’t expect them to get along so well, at least not this quickly.

“So, what does this thing actually do?” Nicky asked. Aaron lifted his head from his place at one of the metal tables, and Andrew noticed he had been studying diagrams from a medical book. An intern with bouncy, strawberry-blonde curls had been pointing out the different pictures to Aaron and she looked up, blinking when she realized Aaron’s attention had shifted. Andrew narrowed his eyes at him but Aaron’s expression betrayed nothing.

“If successful, Andrew’s immortality will transfer to Neil and cancel out his time sickness.” Andrew hadn’t noticed when Abby entered the room, dressed in her white doctor’s coat. Nicky sent her a startled look. “They’d both be rendered mortal.”

“And if it’s not successful?” he asked.

Abby pressed her lips into a thin line. “Death. It’s a tricky procedure, but I have a team of doctors and assistants that will be helping me. Your brother is in safe hands.”

Nicky didn’t look any more reassured. He looked wildly from Andrew to Neil, before retreating back to Aaron for help.

“Are you going to cut them open?” Aaron asked bluntly. Andrew knew he was thinking of the surgeries performed in the nineteenth century. They were brutal and usually opened the body up to infection. Unless the surgeon was particularly skilled and delicate, people often didn’t live long after surgery.

“It’s not surgery. They will be hooked up to machines that will aid the transfer, but it’s mostly up to Andrew. He’ll have to focus his energy into transferring his immortality to Neil, and Neil will have to choose to receive it. It’ll will be quick, lasting only a couple of minutes at most.”

Aaron and Nicky exchanged a look but said nothing more.

“Katelyn,” Abby addressed the intern sitting next to Aaron. “is the equipment ready?”

“It’s all set up and ready to go,” she said. Andrew found her cheery attitude to be extremely annoying, close proximity to Aaron only increasing that ten-fold. The worst part was that Aaron didn’t seem to mind at all.

Abby ushered Andrew and Neil into a large room with machines Andrew didn’t know the purpose of hooked up to walls. Three separate monitors were set up around two metal tables. Andrew assumed they would show body functions such as heart rate and blood pressure, but he didn’t know if it would show his immortality and Neil’s, well, sickness. He wondered if immortality could even be shown on the screen, if it were a physical thing.

Abby left the room so Andrew and Neil could change into white hospital gowns, and knocked on the door a few minutes later to announce that she was coming back in. She directed Andrew and Neil to lay on the metal tables and then a stream of interns and assistants flooded into the room to power up the machines.

The metal was cool and uncomfortable under Andrew’s back, seeping the warmth from his skin and providing little comfort. He leaned his head back and tried to calm his rapidly beating heart. Beside him, he could hear that Neil’s breathing was a tad too quick. Andrew flicked a look at him and found him glancing from machine to machine with wide, panicked eyes.

“Neil, look at me,” Andrew said softly. Neil’s breath hitched and his head jerked to the side towards Andrew. Andrew reached out his hand and Neil gripped it like a lifeline. “I’m not going to let you go, okay?”

Neil nodded and took a deep breath. “Remember your promise,” he said, his voice strained.

“I remember,” Andrew said.

Katelyn was the one who hooked Andrew up to the machine, chattering amiably all the way. She placed cold sticky pads all across his chest and forehead while another assistant did the same to Neil. Andrew had to withdraw his hand when Katelyn snapped wires to the buttons on the pads and placed a something over his thumb that was supposed to monitor his heart rate. The monitor in front of him displayed a picture of his heart and all its chambers, pulsing with every beat in his chest.

Once they were all hooked up, Abby told them that she would have to go behind a protective wall where she could control the machines.

“You will feel a slight tugging sensation,” she said. “Nausea is normal, and so is a little bit of a headache that may last for a couple days. Ready?”

Neil nodded and took another deep breath. Abby disappeared behind a wall, and then the wall disappeared, shimmering like a mirage. Abby’s voice as she gave orders to the other doctors was muffled, and Andrew realized it must have been some sort of glass. Neil twisted to look at Andrew the best he could with all the wires constricting his movement. His face was still pale and his expression tight, but he held Andrew’s gaze for as long he could. “See you on the other side,” he said and squeezed his eyes shut.

Andrew’s vision went black, and a slight tugging sensation wasn’t exactly how he would explain what he felt. It was similar to traveling through time in the sense that he felt his entire body was being squeezed into a small space, but different because he didn’t feel like he was moving. He could still feel the metal table under his back, but it was like all of his insides, his stomach, his lungs, his heart were being jostled from inside of him. His pulse pounded in his temples, and over his heartbeat he heard a loud whooshing noise.

Somehow, Andrew forced his eyes open and the room came into all-too sharp focus with bright fragmented colors that arranged in his brain to make his heart monitor, his heart beating rapidly on the screen. Andrew forced his head to the side and squinted to see Neil. Neil’s body convulsed on top of the table, his eyes and mouth stretched open in a silent scream. Sound came back all at once and Andrew could hear the choked gasps coming from him.

Panic overtook him and Andrew shot up, pawing at the patches on his chest, yanking at the wires as much as he could in his weakened state. He could feel the pain his head receding, he stopped feeling so shaken and his organs returned to their places. But Neil – Neil was still seizing.

Neil.

“Don’t stop,” Andrew ordered, bordering on shouting. He didn’t care that he was infringing on his promise. If this was the only deal he broke in his entire life, then it was fucking worth it. “Don’t fucking stop until Neil is okay.”

Muffled voices in his ears, a scream that Andrew couldn’t tell the origin of. The machines whirred, lighting up red warnings that Andrew didn’t need to know that something was very wrong. Andrew ignored them and pushed and pushed until his vision darkened at the edges and he fell back against the table.

He was gone, he was falling, he was lost. He couldn’t feel anything anymore.

~

The ringing in his ears turned into a dull beeping sound, and it was another couple minutes until he was able to force his eyes open. The patches on his chest were gone, but there was a circular IV in his arm and he was in an entirely new room. Andrew squinted, trying to remember what happened. The image of Neil on the table, dying, and the sucking darkness when Andrew tried to save him.

But Andrew was still here, and Neil wasn’t. He failed.

“Hey, Andrew, don’t sit up okay? Abby said you’ll be a little sore.” Nicky’s voice to his right was obviously meant to be soothing. A hand on his forehead pushed his hair back but Andrew pushed it away. He felt like he was imploding as grief ripped through his body, his organs collapsing on themselves until there was nothing left but his hollow shell. Nicky seemed oblivious to all of this. “Aaron is in the cafeteria getting us dinner. We didn’t know when you’d wake up, but we can always get more.”

“Where’s Neil?” Andrew croaked, his voice scratchy and near unintelligible. He swallowed and tried again. Even if it was over, even if he failed, he needed to know what happened. He didn’t care about food, despite the loud rumbling his empty stomach made.

Nicky hesitated, playing with the sheets by Andrew’s arm. Andrew couldn’t stand this. If he had only pushed harder, Neil would still be alive. Andrew had failed and now he was left with nothing to show for it but a severe headache. Neil was gone, and this time he wasn’t coming back. The back of Andrew’s eyes burned and his throat constricted painfully. He desperately tried to shove it away, lock it up before it overflowed but he couldn’t stop thinking of Neil. His smile, his laugh, the way his body jerked on the table like a rag doll.

“Nicky,” Andrew demanded. He hadn’t heard that desperate note in his own voice in a very, very long time. “What happened?”

“He’s still asleep,” Nicky assured. Andrew stilled. He was alive? Neil was still alive? “He’s pretty banged up, but Abby said he’ll be okay.”

The air was knocked out of Andrew, and yet it was the first time since he woke up that he could breathe. He stopped struggling against the sheets of the hospital bed, he felt all of his energy drain out of him and he slumped against the pillows. His throat worked. Neil was going to be okay. They were both going to be okay.

A part of Andrew never believed that he would make it through. He knew that when it came down to it, Andrew was always going to do everything he could to save Neil, even if that meant letting himself go. Andrew made Neil a promise, and he meant it, but making the promise while Neil was living and breathing was different than keeping it when he was dying.

“He’s okay,” Andrew repeated, having to taste the words to believe them.

“Yeah, Andrew. The procedure worked.”

He couldn’t wait any longer. Andrew forced his way up, pushing off of the pillows with his elbows. His body felt heavy, but Andrew managed to swing his legs over the edge of the bed.

“Hey, no. Don’t do that. Andrew – ” Nicky tried to coax Andrew back to lying down, but Andrew used Nicky’s shoulder as leverage to get down from the bed. “Wait a minute. Where are you going? Andrew?”

“Neil,” Andrew grunted. A tug on his arm reminded him that he was still attached to the IV. Andrew scratched at it with his fingers and peeled it off. It was a lot like the patches on his chest and forehead during the procedure, except tiny needles retracted from his skin when he removed it. A voice in the back of his head told him that removing an IV is bad, and messy, but there were hardly more than tiny pinpricks of blood that he wiped away with his thumb.

Andrew stumbled, his heartbeat still pounding in his temples, and Nicky caught his elbow. Instead of shaking him off, Andrew allowed Nicky to steady him and then made his way out of the room and down the hall.

They were still in the lab, just in different wing than where they had the procedure done. It wasn’t hard to find Neil’s room, there were only three other rooms in the medic wing, and only the one on the end was closed. Andrew opened the door and went through without knocking, Nicky quick behind him with an apology.

Abby was leaning over the bed, fiddling with wires and tapping at the monitor. She looked up at Andrew’s entrance, surprise and disapproval on her face. It turned into exasperation when she saw who had barged in. “Andrew? You should be resting. Neil isn’t going anywhere.”

Andrew ignored her, because there Neil was, laying in the bed with the blankets tucked around him. He looked pallid under the fluorescent hospital lights, his skin a shade paler than his usual golden tan, but otherwise unharmed. He was also hooked up to an IV, but the monitor recorded a strong, beating heart.

Abby looked annoyed when he pushed past her but she didn’t try to stop him. Neil was already stirring when Andrew came in, and when Andrew hooked his fingers in the collar of Neil’s hospital gown, he was beginning to blink open his eyes. Ocean blue, the color of a summer sky, Andrew didn’t care what color Neil’s eyes looked like, just that they were Neil’s and that a slow smile spread across his face like oil on water.

“Andrew,” he said, like it was the sweetest thing on his tongue. He reached his hand for Andrew and pulled him closer. Andrew climbed into the bed, keeping errant knees and elbows from accidentally jostling Neil, and curled his body around him. Neil shifted so his head rested on Andrew’s shoulder and clutched the fabric he found on Andrew’s chest.

Peppering kisses on Neil’s forehead, Andrew felt like he could finally breathe. He was alive, he was alive and Neil wasn’t going to die anytime soon. Abby had ushered Nicky out of the room to give Andrew and Neil some privacy but Andrew hardly noticed. He didn’t care. At that moment, the only thing that mattered was Neil’s lithe body cradled next to his, was Neil’s even breaths of air small puffs against Andrew’s neck.

Something welled up inside Andrew, expanding like a balloon. He pulled Neil tighter against him, refusing to ever let go. It was over, it was all over. Andrew felt a weight lifted from his chest, his entire body. He had Neil in his arms and they were okay.

Neil laughed, a small relieved sound, and sunk into Andrew’s embrace. They stayed like that for only a couple of minutes, but it felt like hours. Abby came back in the room, holding Andrew and Neil’s neatly-folded clothes in her arms. She placed them on the foot of the bed and smoothed the fabric with her hands.

“I’ll be back in a couple minutes to check on Neil’s stats again, and then you can get dressed and head home. How are you feeling?” Abby directed the last part at Andrew.

Andrew stared back at her, considering. His body ached, and his head still felt like someone had cleaved it in half with an axe, but he was breathing and so was Neil. They had the rest of their lives ahead of them, a life spent with each other. It was almost too much to hope for, and it made Andrew dizzy with the thought.

Andrew brushed his fingers against Neil’s wrist, over a tiny mole on his skin, and said, “Never been better.” He was only being a tiny bit ironic.

Abby let them be and then they were alone again. Neil was tracking his eyes across the painted black spots on the ceiling and Andrew traced his fingers over Neil’s scars, proof of what he lived through, proof that he was alive and that he had healed. Neil turned his head and met Andrew’s gaze, bumping their foreheads together.

“What was that about taking me to the Exy court later? I believe you even said you’d play with me,” Neil said, a pretty smile curling his pretty mouth.

Andrew snorted, devoid of its usual exasperation. “I don’t recall,” he said. Neil didn’t argue any further, he didn’t need to. They didn’t have all the time in the world, but they had a lifetime and that was enough. It was more than enough.

It was everything.

[jflashandclash]

Tales from Mount Othrys

Say “NO” to Cruise Ships

 Note: I know the brothers’ names are confusing for this section. Don’t worry. Nicknames are a’coming. Someone needs to point out that it’s stupid first (one of my favorite someones in this book <3)

 I

           Axel’s heartbeat thundered so loud, he feared it would deafen him to any movement down the narrow hallway and ruin his focus on the sting of ocean air. Tainted ocean air, he thought. There was an uncomfortable scent to this ship. He could almost taste the presence of an ill omen, and he had only snuck aboard fifteen minutes ago.

         The Glock 17 felt heavy in his hands. He kept the handgun pointed low, but ready. When he found his little brother’s note about running away, Axel didn’t have time to raid their father’s armory. He didn’t have access yet. Any requests would have inspired questions about why Axel wanted to be armed. He stole this one from a Miami-Dade county cop, near the port.

         Now, despite Axel’s dislike for guns, he wished he had taken the family “picnics” to the gun range more seriously. If he fired and missed in this confined corridor, a stray bullet would rip through these thin walls. According to the cruise ship’s map, these rooms housed potentially innocent passengers.

         They were empty.

         Axel had never been on a cruise ship before—just dinky riverboats from his hometown—but all the advertisements on the ship showed mass amounts of people smiling and looking happy, like join us, and we’ll give you a free discount on stapling your lips into a grin!

         There weren’t families talking about subpar buffet food or children fighting over who got the top bunk. The only sounds were the hysterical cries of a twelve-year-old boy and the laughter of his tormentors around a corner. From their shadows cast on the wall, he could tell Ajax, his little brother, was in trouble.

         Axel had been expecting his little brother to be on the top deck, making friends, not dangling from one of his feet, held by someone much larger than him. Then again, Axel hadn’t been expecting to steal a speedboat or sneak aboard the Princess Andromeda. He had hoped, by “running away,” his little brother really meant, “sneak down the street to hide at the local arcade.”

         “You ssssmell good enough to eat!” said a voice that should have belonged to cheesy cartoon snake. Axel had hoped he’d turn the corner to find a Disney actor dressed up like Kaa from The Jungle Book. When he beat them up, he’d just have to apologize to any observers that loved reptiles.

         Another laughed alongside the first. “Chocolaty. Perfect for dessert.” There was a long sniff. “What kind of half-blood are you? How do we know you’re not a Greek spy?”

         “M-M-My m-m-mom—she s-said that I should come here—it’d be safe—” his little brother babbled.

         Axel clenched his jaw. As far as he was concerned, nothing good came from that woman except the little half-brother in that hall. And even then, Axel was going to personally whip Ajax when they got home and then ground him from eating Reese’s Sticks for a week.

         “Safe!”

         The two voices hissed out laughter, though the first one had a more difficult time with the word. Axel wondered if the person had some kind of speech impediment with s’s and if he was allowed to mock them by saying, “here to the ressscue” or if that would be rude.

         “You—d-don’t want to eat m-me! I’m stringy! And I just had a full bowl of jalapeño peppers! I’ll be too spicy!”

         In the shadow, Axel could see the person holding Ajax move his little brother’s body away in alarm.

         This was his chance.

         Axel stepped around the outer edges of the corner, coming into their line of sight. He aimed the gun directly at the person hefting Ajax.

         “Drop—” Axel choked on “him.”

         He expected the man to be tall from the shadow. Not eight feet tall with a furry chest so barreled, you could lay three of Axel’s siblings across and maybe have room for a fourth. Axel had only seen one other person with a snout, animalistic canines, claws, and paws; he knew now wasn’t the time to ask this man where he got the accessories.

         “Axel!” Ajax cried in teary-eyed joy.

         “Oh! A sssecond ssstowaway!” the other speaker hissed. It was a woman—well, half a woman. Her lower half sprouted a reptilian tail.

         Both of them had deep bronze tans, close to Axel’s, though they looked more like they were from the southern Mediterranean or Northern Africa.

         Axel had seen some weird stuff in his fourteen years. In the forests outside of their run-down, cramped shack, he’d seen monsters roaming the dense undergrowth and slurping about the rivers and cenotes. But nothing like these two: humanoid and capable of speech.

         In punishment for letting Ajax get away, Axel wondered if his father had slipped him hallucinatory drugs and hired actors to show up in monstrous costumes to send him into a panic. Axel gritted his teeth. It wouldn’t have been the first time.

         Neither seemed concerned by Axel’s weapon.

Actors would have been.

         “Remember what Luke said, Agriussss.” The woman frowned. “We’re not supposed to eat them if they want to join. Remember Jack’sss morning meditation.”

         Both closed their eyes, inhaled, and exhaled. “Our demigods are our friends,” they said in unison, “Not food. Unless they become Ol’Sissies. Then food.”

         Hearing the snake-woman try the world ol’sissies was worthy of an Oscar. She was still “sssss”ing long after Agrius had reopened his eyes.

         “I mean it,” Axel said, not liking how little attention the two paid him, like he wasn’t a threat. “Drop him, or I will shoot.”

         “Did you just eat a bunch of jalapeño peppers?” the bear man asked.

         Axel swallowed. That felt a little offensive, even if Ajax had said it first. The idea of eating jalapeno peppers grossed Axel out, but, with the straightest face he could manage, he said, “Yes. Now drop him.” Axel did not like the way this woman examined him or how Agrius licked his lips. It was more than creepy.

         A nagging horror lurked along the edges of Axel’s conscious thought, whispering, It’s about to happen again. You’ll lose someone else you love. And you’ll be as useful as a jammed gun while you scream at them to stop.

         The slit V that marked the sight on Axel’s gun trembled.

         Axel wouldn’t be worthless this time.

         His trigger finger shook too much.

         The first bullet was an accident. Once Axel heard the sound, he discharged another three rounds into the bear man’s chest. That was too many wasted bullets on one opponent when there might be a whole cruise ship of aggressors.

         Agrius had been holding Ajax off to one side, far enough that Axel could fire with confidence.

         At the barrage of bullets, Ajax curled up, folding his body to he could reach Agrius’ arm and jam his fingers into the man’s tendons.

         Agrius howled and dropped Axel’s little brother.

         To Axel’s alarm, the scream had nothing to do with the bullets, just the tendons. Normally, someone might take a step back when shot, or react in some way. There were no bullet holes. No blood. Agrius didn’t even look at Axel; he glared at where Ajax had flipped to his feet.

         From the line of bullet holes in the wall behind Agrius, the ballistics appeared to have gone through him.

         Axel wondered if his father had drugged him after all.

         Agrius grabbed at his sore arm. He scowled, rubbing the skin. “That hurt!” he roared.

         The snake woman laughed uncontrollably.

         Ajax sprinted towards Axel.

Agrius made a grab for Ajax’s raven hair. Seeming to sense the capture, Ajax ducked. He dodged under Axel’s elbow skidded to a halt behind Axel’s back.

         Before the younger boy could press his face between Axel’s shoulder blades—as he often hid when bullies at their primary school realized the nuns weren’t paying attention and chose it as a prime time to attack—Axel shoved his little brother to run down the way Axel had come.

         Axel could beat up school bullies for his little brother. Anthropomorphic bulletproof humanoids whose only apparent weakness was jalapeños and pressure points? Axel could take a rain check on that one.

         Agrius released a second, enraged roar, sounding more like the snarl of a rabid animal. One thing was for sure: this guy needed some breath mints.

         Axel pivoted to sprint down the other corridor, hoping Agrius wasn’t as fast as he was big. The mental map Axel had constructed of this ship said they’d have to make it down the full—

         When Ajax stopped short, Axel almost impaled his diaphragm on the back of his brother’s head. Axel wanted to scream at him for stopping and, really, for running off in the first place, but the words choked on his lips.

         There was a man standing in the hallway—not a man. Axel knew, from his sense of mounting dread, this was no mortal. As Axel tried to focus on the person’s features, they seemed to dematerialize, the ends of his long, black cloak vaporizing into smoke. The ground he stood upon appeared to shift, or was he vanishing and shifting locations?

         The man’s eyes, the one thing that bore into Axel’s mind, were a piercing blue. Although Axel couldn’t describe the sharpness of his jaw or the color of his skin, he could tell the smile along those lips was endearing.

         Like Ajax and I are his new playthings.

         Agrius froze in his pursuit upon seeing this creature. His breath raged so heavily, Axel might ask if Agrius wanted an inhaler if Axel was in a position to tease.

         “What’s this then?” the man asked.

         Axel grabbed Ajax’s arm and dragged the younger boy behind him. Rapidly, he moved as far as he could from either party—into the corner.

         Axel felt Ajax pressed his face between Axel’s shoulder blades. “I—I’m sorry. M-m-mom said it would be safe here—” His little brother sobbed, clutching at Axel’s shirt.

         When Axel raised his fists into a defensive stance, they shook so violently, it was laughable. It was happening again. Not only did he feel small and helpless. He was. The bear man towered over him. The other one—that—that was a god.

         His heartbeat thundered so loud again that he couldn’t hear his thoughts to calculate a plan out of this.

         The unknown man took a slow step closer to them. When his foot contacted the floor, the rug seemed to ripple. Axel felt his heart rate decrease. He stumbled and his fists drooped down. Everything felt heavy. He shook his head to stay focused, terrified that he was losing what little control he had.

         Ajax slumped into his back.

         “Come now, we’re missing the main performance. Did you get the goods?” the god in the black jacket asked.

         The snake-woman pulled a backpack off to reveal a variety of soda cans inside. Axel wondered if this was a drug running operation. He’d seen his father’s associates tuck contraband into the most unassuming of places.

         “Ah, orange cream soda,” the man mused. He held a hand out, and one of the bottles flew straight to it.

         The woman frowned. “Now, if you could jussssst do that, why did we have to get it for you?”

         “So we could have enough to share. I mean, everyone on the whole ship might have passed out if I released that kind of power,” he said. His voice was warm and comforting, as was his wink. However, one of Axel’s father’s associates winked and smiled like that at Axel and his brothers. That associate liked to lock boys in his basement, according to rumors.

         “They’re almost out of fodder to throw at the stage,” the god said. He shrugged. “Incompetent performers, but it looks like we might have two new ones, ready to prove themselves.”

         Ajax jerked alert at those words, bumping his nose hard into Axel’s shoulder blade. He sniffled. “You want us to perform? We’re—we’re really good performers!”

         The desperation in his voice made Axel want to slap him. Though, really, Axel wanted to ask prove ourselves to what or whom?

         The man motioned for Axel and Ajax to follow him. Without checking to see if they did, he turned to walk down the corridor. “I’ll escort you to the techies.”

         Axel wasn’t sure what was more daunting: following a god to an unknown stage or fighting off Bear Face.

         Without questioning, Ajax darted after the god and scurried at his heels.

         Axel glanced at the seething Agrius.  “We’ll settle this later,” he told the bear man and raced after his brother.

         Agrius snarled something under his breath.

         “Thank you for getting us away from Winny the Pooh’s angry relative,” Ajax said. His sniffles decreased in correlation to the increased skip in his step. When Axel caught up, Ajax reached for Axel’s hand.

Axel swatted him away. “No soy Hiro,” he growled.[1]

         With their littlest brother, Ajax could pretend he was holding Hiro’s hand because Hiro was scared. He couldn’t fake that with Axel. Axel needed both his hands in case they had a chance to escape the way he’d come. And, although Ajax looked way younger than twelve, barely reaching four feet and five inches when he stood at perfect posture, Axel knew his little brother was too old for that coddling.

         “Oh, don’t thank me. I saved you from one losing battle and will be pitting you into a far worse one,” the god told them. His expression softened into pity. “Though, if you survive, you’re sure to find the safe home that your mother promised you.”

         Ajax’s mouth dropped open. His hazel and brown eyes widened.

         Axel could tell his little brother wanted to ask if this god knew his mother. Instead, he said, “B—but, you said it was just a performance.”

         From the way the man gently set a hand on Ajax’s shoulder—roughly the size of Ajax’s shoulder—and the melancholy to those eyes, Axel understood this wasn’t the kind of performance they were originally thinking. And they weren’t going to make it off this boat by running.

***

Thanks for reading! I hope you enjoyed :D Ah, tiny Axel that thinks he needs to prove himself to Agrius. I’m sure the thought of fighting Axel was unbearable to him. <3 Stay tuned next week to see the Pax brothers’ performance!

Oh! real question guys: Do you want me to label when we shift from book to book? I have context clues burred into the stories, but would you prefer something less subtle? I can invest in neon signposts. With glitter. And those fluttery, streamer dudes.anyway, let me know!

Footnote:

[1] “I’m not Hiro.”