#and considering giving lloyd a broken nose

[skierisa]

well, I WASN'T gonna draw all of them... but here i am, just missing cole and zane

if i hate myself enough, i'll draw pix and skylor too

possibly morro and harumi as well

[uswntxfootball]

Worth the stitches (Lindsey Horan x Reader)

request: @kweens14 ; ooo could you do protective lindsey horan x reader? thanks! love your fics :)

word count: 1831 ish You’re a quiet, non-confrontational forward for the uswnt, and in the eyes of Allysha Chapman, the perfect target for her illegal tackles. What she didn’t factor into the equation however, was a certain protective, very confrontational blonde midfielder.  a/n: hfjsns the gif i wanted wouldn’t upload :( it was the one of horan shoving arod and i thought it would be fitting but tumbr was like haha nope so yeah :( anyways! its my first request that i’ve ever done! hope i did it justice! :)

----

The game against Canada had been nothing short of brutal. It began with a quick goal for the US, courtesy of Carli Lloyd’s boot, but less than fifteen minutes into the game, the US found themselves tied with Canada after a sly chip from Sinclair. The game remained deadlocked in a tie for the next half hour, and just before halftime was when the Canadian national team began their attack. Illegal tackles began slowly finding their way into the game, with the refs turning a blind eye to what are obvious yellow and red card fouls. And when Alex Morgan is subbed off in the 31st minute with an injury, Canadian defender Allysha Chapman decides you’re going to be her next target. You were a quiet player, and you weren’t one to complain to refs or fight back against players. Chapman knew this, and she planned to take full advantage of it. ~~ You fall to the ground with a grimace as Chapman lands a particularly hard tackle on you, knocking you off of your feet. The first person by your side is your best friend and fellow Portland Thorns teammate, Lindsey, who’s patting your back and giving you a soft smile. “Are you okay?” she asks, you nodding your head, blushing, as she helps you to your feet. Your crush on the midfielder was painfully obvious to others, but lucky for you, Lindsey was oblivious to that fact and you planned to keep it that way. “Just a bruise on my hip but I’ll be okay” You reassure her. Lindsey nods reluctantly and walks away, not before giving Chapman a glare that could scare off a wild bear. The whistle sounds and just like that, the game continued. Even though there were only a few minutes left until half time, you had ended up on the turf six times after that initial tackle. Your uniform began to become stained green from the amount of time you spent on the turf. Lindsey had been at your side helping you get up every time you went down, your cheeks flushing every time. But it was now that you could see the rage swirling behind Lindsey’s eyes, watching as you went down and down again with no fouls being called. You give her forearm a reassuring squeeze, completely missing the way her eyes soften and cheeks flush, as you tell her you’re okay. The midfielder nods and lets out a few deep breaths to calm down, as you both head back towards the game. And not even a few seconds later, the seventh tackle hits and you’re back on the ground. You watch from the ground eyes widening as Lindsey grits her teeth and her hands begin to clench up into a fist all the while walking towards Chapman. You quickly scramble off the ground and run towards the woman before she can make it there. You put your hands on her shoulders and turn her head so she faces you. Your eyes widen at the sight of pure anger on her face, and just as you’re about to speak, the whistle blows, signaling the end of the first half. You grab her hand and drag the midfielder off the field, leading her into the hallway behind the locker room. ~~ You let go of her hand when you reach the back, opting instead to place your hand on her forearm, giving the midfielder a squeeze. “Just stay calm. It’s okay.” “But it’s not okay! The refs are literally blind considering that Chapman has made tackles that are definitely red card worthy!” She growls, throwing her arms up in frustration. “I know I know, but murder is unfortunately illegal”. You joke, hoping it’ll cheer her up a bit and lighten the mood. The blonde relents and gives a small smile and chuckle, leaning her head down onto your shoulder. Lindsey’s eyebrows furrow when you move out from under her, but her cheeks flush red as you then turn to wrap your arms around her, your head against her chest. “I’m okay I promise.” You say, pulling back to look her in her eyes. “I just don’t want you to get hurt”. “Aw you actually care about me?” You tease, Lindsey rolling her eyes in annoyance. “Of course I care about you doofus, I actually like having you around” She says, completely missing the way your cheeks heat up. You lean back into her chest, and you stay there, listening to her heartbeat. Lindsey stands there, cheeks flushed as she wraps her arms around you, silently hoping you don’t hear how fast her heart is pounding in her chest. Just as she opens her mouth to say something, Kelley yells from the locker room, “Eyo Horan! Y/LN! Time to go!” You pull away from the blonde reluctantly, and with a wave of courage, You lean in to give her a quick peck on the cheek and whisper, “Thank you for caring about me though”. Lindsey stands still with her mouth agape, hand on her flushed cheek as she watches you walk back towards the pitch. You’re halfway down the hall when you turn around to see the woman still standing there and you call out, “Linds?” “Coming!” ~~ Unfortunately for you, things weren’t much better in the second half. Chapman was still on you, tackling you left and right whenever the ball was at your feet. Lindsey was right by your side every time, you reassuring her every time, and her reluctantly agreeing to not rip Chapman’s head off every time. But at the 78th minute is when everything changes. Lindsey’s eyes widen when she sees Chapman coming in behind you, sliding in for a tackle, studs up. And to her horror, this time you let out a pained wail as you fall to the ground, gripping your calf. Lindsey like usual, is at your side, but this time, you weren’t telling her that you were fine. You weren’t telling her not to rip Chapman’s head off. You were crying and your sock and leg were soaked in blood. The medics are at your side immediately, and when they roll down your sock and take one look at your calf, they turn to Vlatko and give him the sign for the need of a substitute. Lindsey can only watch, frozen in shock, as you’re carried off of the field and into the back. The rage she felt inside her earlier was back, but this time, it was ten times stronger. Christen, who came on as your sub, along with the rest of the team, witness with wide eyes from across the field the result of Lindsey Horan’s fury. What she screamed at Chapman and the ref couldn’t be heard by the rest of the team, but what the team could see was the solid punch that sent Chapman sprawling onto the ground. Plus with the crack that came from the impact to Chapman’s face, what was most likely a broken nose if not more, and as a result, the look of true terror spreading on the Canadian defender’s face. Lindsey doesn’t even wait for the ref to pull out the red card when she bolts off of the field in search of you. ~~ You sat in the locker room with your leg stitched and bandaged. Chapman had left some nasty marks in your leg with her cleats, and you’re sure you’re going to have a permanent scar because of it. You could hear the roar of the crowd in the stadium, meaning someone probably scored, but you could care less as your mind was focused elsewhere. Specifically, on a certain blonde midfielder. Since the game was still going on, your brows furrow when you hear cleats clicking on the tile floor, and you look up to see the woman you had been thinking about a few seconds prior. “What are you doing here?” You ask, your brows furrowed in confusion. “That’s not important. How’s your leg?” She asks, before taking a seat on the bench next to you. “It’s okay, I got it stitched up. No major injuries, just some flesh wounds, so I should be okay playing next game.” “Can’t say the same about me.” Lindsey snorts, your brows furrowing in confusion again before you ask, “Linds... what did you do?” After much silence she mumbles quietly, “I may have broken Chapman’s nose.” “You did what??!” “Yeah” She muttered, looking down at her cleats. It’s then that you notice her right fist, knuckles swollen and colored with angry red and purple blots. “Oh Linds..” You sigh, grabbing her right arm to take a closer look at her hand. She turns to you with a blush, gasping when you take her hand in yours and place a light kiss to her knuckles. When you look up at her, you notice a glassy sheen over those green eyes you adored so much. “Wha-“ You’re cut off when Lindsey surges forward and presses a gentle kiss to your lips. You blink once. twice. Lindsey Horan was kissing you. And you weren’t kissing back. Before you can reciprocate, Lindsey pulls back and starts to apologize. “I’m so sorry. I don’t know what came over me and I jus-“ You shut her up by grabbing the front of her jersey and pulling her in to give her a kiss. The kiss is a short and sweet confession, and when she kisses you back, your life is complete. You pull back after a few seconds and press your forehead against hers, and all you can do is smile. “Go on a date with me.” Lindsey states after a while and you let out a snort saying, “Isn’t that supposed to be a question? Like will you go on a date with me?” “I mean duh right of course I’m sorry I meant, will you go on a date with me?” Lindsey stutters nervously, hand rubbing the back of her neck. “I’m sorry I just assumed tha-“ You interrupt her with a kiss. “Yes of course I’ll go on a date with you, you dork.” You say while rolling your eyes. Lindsey’s face splits into a huge grin and she leans in for another kiss when the team bursts into the locker room. Megan’s eyes widen when she sees the two of you and she nearly screams, “KELLEY YOU OWE ME FIFTY BUCKS!” Kelley winces and opens her mouth to speak when Ashlyn steps up and slaps Lindsey on the back. “Y/N, you should’ve seen her dude. She went all Rocky Balboa on Chapman and totally rocked her SHIT!” This makes the whole team laugh and earns her a slap on the back of her head from Ali who chides her on her language. As you watch the team bicker amongst themselves, you lay your head on Lindsey’s shoulder and stare up at her, the woman looking back at you with a loving smile. And so a few months later when the US played Canada again, all it took was one glare from Lindsey (who by now is your girlfriend btw), and Chapman made sure to keep herself far, far away from you.

[moriturisalutamus]

in liminal

When do you come to grips with your own mortality? Is it the very second before you die? Is it in the flames that strip your bones of their heavy flesh? When you watch someone you don’t know stand over your smoking corpse? For Sibyl, it was much much earlier in life. But now? He doesn’t feel his body hit the floor.

Time passes, an eternity of nothing. Tick. tick. tick. It can’t remember its name. For what is ‘dark’ when sight has no meaning? ‘Cold’ when feeling has no meaning? ‘Death’ when life has no meaning? Can you be unmade if there was nothing made in the first place?

The first thing you sees is yourself, four years old, standing across the lake. It’s December, more than two decades ago, but you can feel the snap of the winter chill as it touches your nose, the unruly blonde hair framing your face and the red scarf and mittens that your grandmother knitted. You see, so clearly, the child with the lopsided hat and ill-fitting coat. Sibyl. You know that’s Sibyl. You’ve never heard that name before. A could touch on your shoulder. Mama will be right back. His eyes meet yours and you offer a friendly wave. You only catch the beginnings of his lips curling upwards as your feet breach the ice and plunge downwards.

You are a bicyclist, pedaling through the streets on a clear May morning. The pleasant burn of a good workout has you in an excellent mood; there’s not a cloud in the sky. Just put one foot in front of the other. One, two, one two. It’s a comforting rhythm. A group of children feed geese in the pond to your left. Wiping the sweat off your brow, you consider the date you had last night. Maybe they’ll want to see you again? For just a second, you feel the chill of winter over your shoulder. When you glance up instinctively, your eyes pass over a child of around thirteen standing on the roadside with his own bicycle. He looks at you, and starts to speak. The truck, taking advantage of your turned head, catches you unawares. There is a bright flash of pain and then

You have spent a lazy evening with your partner at a lakehouse that you’re renting with a group of friends for the summer. They’ve all gone into town, so it’s just the two of you in the humid air of the living room. There’s nowhere you’d rather be. He says something to you, quietly, teasingly, and you nod, beckoning him to the stairway. Colder than the broken conditioning, you suddenly shiver, goosebumps raising on your bare arms, but the sense of chill is gone as soon as you felt it. It’s nothing. This is the perfect night. You tug its collar down so you can meet its lips with yours but find yourself tumbling in air as he watches in shock from above. Crack.

 The smell of disinfectant and alcohol fills the air. You can’t feel your toes or your legs or your arms or your face, but you know that you are breathing. More than anything, you hope that the next time your son visits you, you can give him the sign he so desperately needs. That you can ask him his forgiveness, for anything. So you can tell him that he is loved. A strange, freezing shadow passes through the room, rustling your thin hospital gown as it goes by. Then someone follows. Gray eyes, black hair. Not your son, must be lost. Must be... 

You hear the flatline.

You live these moments and nearly a dozen others in a loop. You die one thousand, one million, one billion times. All this suffering. It could have been ended with one death. And here, there is the chance to set the record straight. So die, Sibyl. Choose to die.

But that’s not what you wanted, is it? Deep down. You kept living. Tried to convince yourself that not getting close to people was enough. That staying apart and creating things to fill the space that people left behind would make up for everything you caused. That your curse would go away with time, and with patience, and with enough research. You were wrong. You want to live, Sibyl Lloyd Baxter. You are selfish and you won’t die. Kill to live. Die to survive. 

The conclusion is simple. The moment where you really know you’re going to die, is a profoundly uninteresting one. It’s the thousands of minutes that you live with that realization afterwards, the restlessness. The fact of an end. It’s followed you from the start.

Become, Sibyl. Become.

[fanfalc-616]

The Rights of A Nindroid

Chapter Twenty-Five

(Previous Chapter Here)

There’s something slightly extra angsty in Zane’s section... try and see if you can figure out what ;)

Also oh my god I hate politics this is going to suck-

Kai groans as he stares at his computer. “This is a lot harder than I thought…” he mutters to himself, closing his eyes for a moment.

But he quickly shakes his head, returning to the computer. Zane needs him! It doesn’t matter what he has to do or how exhausting it is, he needs to save him.

Politics are the absolute worst, but this was Kai’s idea, so he’s going to have to suck it up and keep going.

Right now, he’s looking into how Lloyd can start running on the ballot: there are two main political parties, and if they want to stand even a chance of getting him elected, they’re going to need to find a way to get him on one.

The current Emperor- or in this case, Empress- is called Harumi, and she’s running again on the political party Monocrean. So the other political party, Arosticarist, will-

Kai mutters a quiet curse as he reads the next line. Damn it.

Someone is already running on the ballot.

His name is… Rune Duncan, apparently. Huh. Kai’s never heard of him, but he’s never really been all that invested in politics.

But if they already have someone running, there’s no way that Lloyd could get in!

Grinding his teeth, Kai shakes his head. No, no, no! They’ve come so far!

With a huff, he gets to his feet, grabbing a jacket and heading out. His house arrest had ended the other day, so thankfully he can go to Borg Tower without breaking any laws.

It doesn’t take him long to find Sentry, who’s talking to some weird blond. But when Kai tries to get into the room…

The automatic door won’t open.

Why does technology hate him so much? What did he ever do to make technology work against him?

“So how has your paper been coming along?” The nindroid general prompts, not seeming to have noticed him.

"Pretty well, actually!” The blond chirps. “But there's still so much I want to learn here, so it may end up being twenty something pages long-"

Finally, Kai manages to get the door open. Ignoring the other guy, he goes up to Sentry. “We have a problem.”

Sentry frowns. “... well hello to you too.” He pauses a moment before adding, “What’s wrong?”

Wasting no time, he cuts to the chase. “Did I tell you about the new plan? Rescuing Zane by making Lloyd Emperor?”

He gets a head shake in response. “No, but it’s all over the news, so I kinda figur- wait, that’s why you’re doing it?”

Annoyingly enough, Kai can’t answer, because the other guy there decides to speak up. "Hey, haven't I seen you trending on Chirp? You're that, uh, Kia guy."

“The name’s Kai, actually.” He corrects. “Look, I don’t know what you do here, but I’ve got something kind of important going on, and I think you should go do something else.” He makes a gesture for him to leave, but Sentry shakes his head, looking mildly annoyed.

“Actually, no, he works here and I was talking to him.” The nindroid general argues. “He can keep working while we talk.”

The blond gives him a smug look, and Kai makes sure to shoot him a glare before continuing on with his point.

“Okay, fine, whatever.” He agrees. “We’re having Lloyd run for Emperor so that he can have the authority so get Zane out of there.”

Sentry nods. “And Cryptor, right?”

Kai feels his frustration building again. “Yeah, him too. Not the point. The issue is that there’s already someone running on both ballots. We need to find a way to get him on one.”

The blond speaks up again. “Have you asked any of them if Lloyd could join them?" He prompts.

“Wh- no.” Kai scoffs. “No, we haven’t, because...“ He stops as he realizes that that might actually be a good idea. “... well. That might work, I guess?”

Sentry shakes his head with a grimace. “No politician gets this far by being nice.” He points out. “They wouldn’t let Lloyd join unless we have a good excuse for them to consider it.”

"Well, there's loads of good reasons and excuses.” Kyle returns. “Blackmail, mainly, has been proven to be… useful."

Kai stares at him for a minute, trying to process what the hell he’s talking about. Blackmail? Seriously?

Eventually, he turns back to Sentry. “... so these are the kind of people you hire here, huh?”

The blond scowls at him, crossing his arms. "I mean, you haven't contributed much yourself. I'm just saying, this could be a possibility."

With a snort, Kai shakes his head. “Yeah, but that’s a little thing we like to call illegal.” He reminds.

“Has that really stopped you so far?” Sentry looks disapproving as he speaks. “How many laws have you broken already?”

A sputtering noise escapes him as he tries to come up with a defense. “Aggravated assault is one thing, blackmail is completely different!”

It only registers that the former is actually worse when he gets a look from the nindroid general.

His face starts to heat up as he crosses his arms, trying to find a way to play it cool. “Why are you trying to convince me to break more laws?” He argues. “Weren’t you just trying to get me to stop?”

“I’m not trying to get you to commit more, I’m trying to point out how bad the ones you’ve already committed are!” Sentry seems to be at his wits end.

As Kai’s about to respond, he notices the blond stifling a laugh of some kind. Frustration wells up inside of him again, and he turns to glare at him.

“Something funny?” He snaps.

The blond smirks. "Nothing for you to worry about."

Kai opens his mouth to snark back, but Sentry speaks up before he can.

“Okay, we’re done here.” The nindroid general pinches the bridge of his nose. “Kai, why don’t you brainstorm with your team to come up with an ethical way to convince them to let Lloyd join. Kyle, please don’t antagonize him- I know he’s annoying, but-“

“Wh-“ Kai fumbles for an argument against that. “He started it!” He snaps.

Sentry gives a tired sigh, but Kyle is soon talking. "Please, Sentry.” He gives Kai a wide, plastic smile. “We're like best friends now!"

Sucking in a deep breath, Kai resists the urge to do something that would probably get him banned from Borg Tower for life. Instead, he forces a strained smile. “Yeah, sure, whatever.” He agrees tightly. “Just stop talking.”

Groaning, Sentry shakes his head “Could you at least pretend to be polite?” He pleads.

Huffing, Kai crosses his arms again. “Like I said: he started it.”

He notices the blond- Kyle, had Sentry said?- typing something on his phone. After a moment, he stops, and Sentry sighs again, glancing at him.

“Kai.” He looks the brunet dead in the eyes. “Go back to the Bounty. I’ll try to come up with some things on my end, but you should keep working on yours.”

Flashing the blond another glare, he gives in. “Fine, I’ll leave.” After getting the words out and turning towards the exit, he pauses. He doesn’t like what he’s about to do, but Zane would probably want him to be polite, if he were still here…

Quietly, he mumbles, “... thanks for the advice, I guess.”

He can hear the smug grin in Kyle’s voice. "That? Oh, that was nothing, you're very welcome."

Sucking in a deep breath, Kai heads out, back to the Bounty.

It’s time to do some research on this Rune Duncan.

{ { { { { { { { { { ~ } } } } } } } } } }

Zane stares blankly at his handcuffs, staying silent as he walks.

As of late, Kyle and occasionally a guard will take him out of his locker and walk him around, most likely to prevent any of his joints from locking up after having been caged away for so long.

Still, the logical reasoning behind it doesn’t make the way he’s taken around by a chain on his cuffs like a dog on a leash any less humiliating.

After a while, Kyle speaks up. “How are your ankles?” He prompts. “They look fine, they didn't lock up once this time."

The words make Zane instinctively glance down at his feet. “I’m functioning normally.” His voice has a very bitter note to it as he speaks. “Nothing’s currently locking up.”

"Good.” Kyle smiles- and not even a psychopathic one. “That's awesome."

There’s silence for a long minute as they walk, but Zane doesn’t speak. He just stares downwards numbly and waits to be addressed.

There’s a part of him screaming at the injustice of it all, at the way he’s being treated and the humiliation he’s been forced to endure. But the vast majority of it simply… doesn’t care.

This is happening to him whether he resists or not, so why should he keep fighting? It never makes a difference, and he’s been fighting for so long that he just… wants a break. To be able to rest. He’s so tired of all of this, and it feels so much easier to simply give in to their whims.

After a few more moments, Kyle speaks up.

"...Kai passed by, today.” He comments. “Talked about politics." As he speaks, he seems to be studying him carefully.

Zane tiredly glances up, not enough to make eye contact. He doesn’t know whether to believe the words, but it doesn’t really matter if he does. Having an actual verbal conversation is a form of relief, and Zane will gladly take this chance.

“That’s interesting.” He comments quietly. “Did he mention me?”

There’s a low chuckle. "He did, actually! He's still trying to get both of you out, somehow.” Kyle smiles as he shakes his head. “Good to know some things don't change."

Some things never change, huh? Just like the torturous routine in this facility.

A tired sigh escapes him as he looks off to the side. “Yes, good to know,” he agrees in a dull tone.

"I'm actually surprised at how little you care about him, now.” The blond continues to walk alongside him, thankfully not randomly tugging on the chain like he had done in times past. “I mean, it was never real emotions, but it's weird not hearing you ask desperately about him like before."

Zane feels himself tense up. “They are real emotions.” He growls out under his breath.

Kyle suddenly stops, making Zane stumble at the unexpected pause. "Zeroes and ones. It's the only real thing about them." He reminds, stepping in close. "You better remember that."

Refusing to look up, it gives a weak nod. “I’ll remember…” he agrees, hating how little life is left in his voice as he speaks.

"Good.” Kyle has a satisfied smile on his face. “Let's go." He prompts, starting to walk again.

Zane dutifully follows, cursing himself for how easily he’s begun to give in. There wasn’t even a real threat this time, he had simply given in of his own accord.

His days are numbered.

At the realization, he stops in his tracks, feeling himself begin to tremble, fear taking a cold grasp over him.

Kyle stops beside him, raising an eyebrow in a way to demand answers.

He finally manages to look up, to look Kyle in the eyes. His voice is barely above a whisper as he speaks a simple haunting question.

“... what do you plan to do with me?”

There’s a brief pause before Kyle answers him. It seems that he doesn’t quite understand what Zane’s getting at.

"Break you.” He says bluntly, seeming almost confused by the question. “I thought it was obvious."

Zane manages to shake its head. “No, I know that.” He agrees. “But… after that. When you’ve won. What will become of me?”

The question sets dread seeping through him as his mind comes with worse and worse possibilities of what he may be made to do.

Kyle frowns, seeming to be pondering the question. "...We could use extra engineers for weapons no one in their right mind would agree to build." He decides.

Confusion momentarily takes place of the dark feeling inside. “... you were upset that someone had died because of me, but you would use me to create things to kill others?” He questions.

Kyle’s voice is quiet and almost threatening. "...Gavin was the only thing I cared about. Still is. Now…" He looks over at Zane, and he can see the bitter darkness in his eyes. "...Now the world can burn, for all I care."

After taking a moment to process the words, Zane gives a soft nod and looks back down. “Thank you.”

He can feel Kyle’s confusion. "For what?" The blond questions.

“Answering.” Zane says simply. “I… I do not want to build weapons, but I… I’m glad to at least know what my future will be before I…” He trails off.

Before he no longer cares.

There’s a bitter laugh from the blond. "Not like you have a choice." After a pause, he sighs. "I feel like I'm being way too nice to you again."

Zane stays quiet, unsure of what to say. He keeps his eyes cast downwards as he waits for further instruction.

There’s a dark pause for a moment before Kyle roughly yanks on the chain connected to his cuffs. "Walk." He orders.

Zane stays silent as he does what he’s told.

There are no words left for it to say.

[umbry-fic]

enchanted love

Summary: Lloyd and Colette, with the assistance of Noishe, come across a serene little pond tucked away in the forest. With the unbearable hot weather, it makes for the perfect spot to rest and cool down.

But Noishe considers it the perfect spot for a prank...

Fandom: Tales of Symphonia Characters: Lloyd Irving, Colette Brunel, Noishe Relationships: Colette Brunel/Lloyd Irving Rating: G Word Count: 2309 Mirror Link: AO3 Original Post Date: 17/02/2021

Notes: Written as a gift for @likes-words-and-shrimp in return for this wonderful fic about Colette and Lloyd baking pastries!

First fic in a series known as "Noishe the Wingdog" where Noishe does his best to get Colette and Lloyd together.

Next fic in the series

~~~

"Lloyd! Over here! Noishe found something amazing!" Colette called out, head peeking out from behind the trunk of the tree that Noishe had just disappeared behind. Noishe, much to Lloyd's bewilderment, had spent the last few minutes with his nose to the ground, emitting the occasional forlorn bark. Colette had suggested that maybe Noishe had caught the scent of something, but what? There was nothing around here but miles and miles of boring trees and shrubbery. They were in the middle of a forest, after all. What else did he expect?

Lloyd certainly hadn't expected Noishe to suddenly take off, tongue lolling out of his mouth and barking like mad, as he had just seconds ago. Colette had gone after him, leading to the current situation - Lloyd panting as he ran over to join her.

"He better have," Lloyd grumbled, shielding his eyes from the single piercing ray of sunshine that had gotten through the thick overgrowth. According to Lloyd's best estimate, it was noon, and even if he couldn't see the sun through the dense leaves and branches above him, the humid air weighing against his skin and the thick layer of sweat was enough to let him know that it was, well, hot. Lloyd could even see the individual beads of sweat starting to gather on Colette's forehead, causing strands of hair to start sticking to the sides of her face. Even pulling her hair up into a makeshift ponytail had done little against the oppressive heat.

If Noishe had made him run all this way for nothing, he was going to strangle the damn dog.

On second thought, maybe he wouldn't. That sounded like more energy than he could expend right now. Lying on the dirt seemed far more appealing.

"Look!" Colette grabbed his hand, tugging him along to see what she and Noishe had found. Pushing through a few annoying ferns, Lloyd emerged into a clearing - and gasped at the sight before him. It was a pond, about the size of a small house, fed by a happily bubbling brook. The water reflected the colour of the leaves above and had a mosaic of light dancing across it, courtesy of the sunlight filtering through said leaves. Lily pads, accompanied by white flowers, floated on the water, next to tiny rocks that had moss growing on them and a variety of other floating plants. And next to the pond, irises bloomed, pale blue in colour. After the constant greens and browns of the forest, it was a breathtaking sight. Who knew such a place existed, tucked away behind the opposingly tall trees and the prickly ferns? It was like a place untouched by time, serene and unbothered.

"It's perfect for cooling down! See, Noishe is already having such a fun time!" Colette proclaimed, pointing at Noishe, who was ecstatically wading through the deeper parts of the pond with only his head visible. Faced with the heavenly prospect of cool water after the sweltering heat, Colette could no longer wait and ran down to the pool's edge, kicking off her shoes and rolling her leggings up before sinking her lower legs into the pond. "Come on, Lloyd!"

Lloyd, eager to join in, did the same, sighing in bliss as the water provided a reprieve. Mirroring Colette, he dipped his hands in the pond and gathered up some water to wash his face, getting rid of the icky sweat clinging to his skin.

The pair lapsed into a comfortable silence, content to kick their legs around in the water and watch the tadpoles swim around them. Such a peaceful time was hard to come across in the bustling villages and towns that they passed through, so it was nice to just take some time to relax and revel in the quiet, broken only by the occasional chirp of a bird or croak of a frog... And a break was much-needed after trekking for hours to reach the next town.

It would be nice to get in the water, but they didn't have a change of clothes on them at the moment. It seemed like that option was off the table...

Colette yawned, leaning against Lloyd's side. Lloyd laughed, wrapping one arm around her side. "Feeling sleepy, are we?"

"It's hot," Colette muttered, snuggling closer. "Can't help it..."

Well, it's not like Lloyd wasn't starting to feel the effects of the heat. That, the cool water against his skin, his existing exhaustion, and Colette's comforting presence were starting to make his eyelids feel heavy...

Splash!

The sudden splattering of water droplets against his face caused Lloyd to splutter and glare at the source - Noishe, who had silently sneaked up on the two and brought one paw down on the pond surface with force, causing an explosion of water.

"What the hell, Noishe?" Lloyd turned to look at Colette, who was now sitting up straight and rubbing her eyes. She certainly didn't seem sleepy anymore. "You disrupted Colette's rest!"

Noishe only grinned at the two of them, tongue lolling out of his mouth. Lloyd, ready to get back at his Protozoan buddy, gathered up a handful of water and threw it as hard as he could, hitting Noishe square on the face.

Colette, who was now fully awake and blinking water out of her eyes, watched in astonishment at the water-fight taking form before her eyes. Both Lloyd and Noishe were giving their all, splashing water everywhere, Lloyd laughing and Noishe barking in excitement. Though with Lloyd sitting on the shore and Noishe submerged in the pond, Noishe had the clear upper hand. He was using his full body weight to splash water everywhere, including a few stray drops that continued to hit her.

As if realising this himself, Noishe leapt onto the shore and paused. Colette stared at him with wide eyes, the split second of stillness seeming to stretch on forever... Until Noishe promptly tackled Lloyd into the water with an enthusiastic bark.

Colette scrambled to her feet in concern, hoping to either pull Lloyd out or join in the fun, either seemed like fine options. But in her hurry, she tripped over a small, previously unseen pebble, lost her balance and, flailing her arms, fell straight onto Lloyd, who had just managed to surface, thus knocking him down for the second time in the span of a few minutes.

Gasping, they both surfaced from the pond, sleeves and hair dripping water. If before the sweat was causing some strands of hair to stick to their faces, then they truly resembled bedraggled rats now, hair wildly plastered to their clothes and skin and rivulets of water running down their faces. Throughout the chaos of their fall and subsequent rise to the surface, Lloyd's arm had remained securely wrapped around Colette's waist, like he was afraid that if he let go, she'd sink right back into the pond.

"You alright?" Lloyd enquired, bringing one warm hand up to her cheek as if feeling for any possible scratches left by her fall. Silly, Colette thought. There weren't any sharp branches or edges of rocks close enough to the shore to have gotten at her skin. Besides, Lloyd had caught her, in more ways than one. But Lloyd had always been the one to worry about her.

"Perfectly fine! There's not a single scratch on me!" Colette replied, hoping to allay his fears. "I'm sorry for falling on you..."

"That's not your fault! It's Noishe's." Lloyd turned and shot a glare at the aforementioned dog, who was making his hasty and sneaky retreat onto dry ground. He turned back, a small smile on his face. "And I'd catch you anytime."

"Thank you. I know you would."

Colette finally noticed that Lloyd's hair, drenched, was falling straight into his eyes. With careful fingers, she brushed them away. But with the water weighing it down, his hair had no choice but to go straight back to its original position. With his hair like this, Lloyd almost looked like...

Lloyd watched in confusion as Colette burst into giggles, covering her hand with her mouth to stifle her laughter. "Colette...?"

"I'm sorry! I shouldn't be laughing, but - but with your hair like this, you almost look like a dog!" Colette managed to get out among the intermittent bouts of laughter, eyes sparkling with mirth.

"A dog...?" Lloyd tried and failed to move his hair out of his eyes, wondering if he should take that as a compliment. Colette loved dogs, so...

"A big, shaggy, loving dog! It's cute," Colette replied, cocking her head to the side and smiling sweetly, a faint blush on her cheeks. In the process, she also knocked all the air out of Lloyd's lungs, just as Noishe's paws shoving against his chest just moments before had. He hadn't quite realised how close they were until now. He could see each fine eyelash, the same golden colour as her hair, and the individual beads of water caught on them, precariously balancing and threatening to fall. The mosaic of light that shimmered on the water also cast squares of light onto her golden hair, making it seem incredibly bright in their dim surroundings.

Lloyd could never forget her beauty, but there were moments where he was reminded, almost painfully, of how truly incredible she was. Sometimes, the fact that he was fortunate enough to spend each day by her side would hit him like a wall, forcing him to come to a stop and just... stare, in awe, that she was still here, before him. Like now.

"Lloyd...?" Colette whispered, blushing harder at the way he was staring at her - like she was the most precious treasure in the whole, wide world. That was always the way he had treated her, like she was worth every ounce of love he could spare and more. And even if she could never comprehend how she could possibly be that for him, the constant reminder that she was loved warmed her heart. She felt like she was always at home, for home was here, with Lloyd.

"Nothing," Lloyd whispered back, deft fingers plucking one of the irises growing on the shore and tucking it gently behind her right ear. The colour of the twilight sky, it complemented her periwinkle blue eyes perfectly. "I'm just glad you're here."

Colette closed her eyes, burying her face in his chest and letting Lloyd's warmth envelop her. Here, in this tiny pond tucked away from the world, there was just the two of them, swaying together in the water.

And that was enough, and it was perfect.

~~~

Idiots.

Noishe slinked closer to Lloyd and Colette, enjoying each other's embrace under one of the trees. They had settled themselves there, having pulled themselves out of the pond after ten whole minutes of slow swaying, which Noishe had watched, wondering if this was what passed as slow dancing.

Colette and Lloyd were now both peacefully slumbering, happy smiles on their faces. Colette's cheek was pillowed on Lloyd's chest, hair fanning across his red clothes. Lloyd's hand was still curled in the golden strands, which he had been gently stroking before falling asleep himself.

His plan to get them in the water had worked out, but...

Their clothes weren't even dry. They were going to catch a cold at this rate... It was the one thing he hadn't considered!

Noishe didn't want the pair he travelled with to get sick because of the little prank he'd played. So, with great care to ensure he didn't disrupt their sleep, he dragged his body over the two to act as a giant, fuzzy blanket. At least he'd managed to shake all the water out of his coat after he'd left the two in the pond and wouldn't be further contributing to the problem.

Keeping absolutely still, Noishe watched their chests rise and fall, letting out a little huff. The peace and quiet was perfect for planning even more schemes...

But it was nice to just... lie here and... relax...

A few moments later, the Protozan's loud snoring begun to echo through the clearing. A lone dragonfly, seeking a perch, landed on Noishe's head.

And there was serenity again.

~~~

"A - achoo!"

Lloyd hurriedly grabbed a bunch of tissues from the box on the nightstand next to his bed, loudly blowing his nose while cursing internally. Crushing the bunch of tissues into a ball, he threw them into the wastebasket in the corner of the room. His eyes and nose had been watering all day. Upon arriving back in Iselia, Dad had taken one look at him and confined him to bed rest, and the day had gone pretty terribly since.

"Here!" A cup of steaming hot coffee was pushed in front of Lloyd, Colette's smiling face hovering above it like an angel from the heavens. "This should help you feel better!"

Mostly terrible. There were some high points.

Lloyd took the cup, grateful for the warmth that spread through his palms to the rest of his body. Leave it up to Colette to take the best care of him when he fell sick and make him feel better.

Taking a sip and letting the bitter taste slide down his throat, Lloyd looked down through the window at the hulking green and white mass staring back up at him. Noishe made some complicated head motions as if trying to beg for forgiveness, but Lloyd only narrowed his eyes, hoping to display the full extent of his displeasure. This was, after all, all Noishe's fault.

Noishe gave out a pitiful whine at the death glare currently being directed his way. The force of it reminded him of a certain someone, and it was enough to strike fear into anyone. Lowering his head and breaking eye contact, Noishe considered that maybe he hadn't planned his scheme out well enough...

~~~

Next fic in the series

[lloydskywalkers]

two a.m. tea

This is for the wonderful @kipskiff , who recently did some fantastic art of Lloyd and Nya and Pixal getting tea at two am together, which is a concept I really wanted to write something on, so here we go! This is...technically an AU, because Lloyd and Nya know about Pixal before season 8, but you know what it’s a good AU that should be canon, because I love these three.

Nya is a lot of things, but one thing she definitely isn’t is blind.

(…most of the time.)

So when the new Samurai X crops up, in her armor, and promptly refuses to answer any questions about their identity, Nya spends a week or two flailing about before she gets serious. If someone’s got her mech, no matter how well-meaning their actions seem (saving Lloyd definitely won them points, but still) Nya needs to know who it is. It’s just a safety thing, and with their track record, it’s better to be safe than ambushed and nearly-slaughtered by someone they thought they could trust in the middle of the night.

So Nya cracks down and really starts studying the new samurai, mentally cataloguing the way they talk and how they choose to fight, what weapons they’re picking and the mannerisms they use, and eventually she’s able to pin down who it is — she’s promptly torn between utter shock and wondering why she didn’t think of that earlier, but she thinks she handles it pretty well.

Ironically, Lloyd figures it out five minutes before she does. (Or at least she thinks he does — he looks suspiciously calm about the whole thing, and he’s been the most unconcerned from the start. And he does have a track record with figuring out the identity of Samurai X, so…)

At any rate, Nya’s pretty sure that her and Lloyd are the only ones to have figured out Pixal’s secret, so by the time they all head off on their Find-Master-Wu missions, it’s easy enough for Nya to stop back into town every once in a while and meet up with them for tea at the hole-in-the-wall shop in the rougher part of town that Lloyd picks out for them.

He claims it’s where his uncle used to go sometimes, but Nya’s still too suspicious that Lloyd never entirely outgrew his past to believe that. He also claims that it’s the only place in town to get a decent cup of tea at two in the morning, which Nya is much more inclined to believe.

“-and then he tried to run, likely because he realized he was outmatched, but he must have forgotten we were on the twentieth story, because he tripped over his own feet and ran straight off the edge of the building, still clutching the money as he went.”

Nya grins as Pixal continues to detail her story to them, her eyes lit up brightly as she gestures, looking as enthusiastic as Nya’s seen her. Lloyd is listening in rapt attention, laughing at all the right parts as he sips at his own cup of tea — which very likely has too many sugars in it to be healthy, but what can you do. He’s in his new gi, the bright green one with the stitching she’d seen him working on a while back. It looks nice — it kinda makes Nya want to change up her own gi design, actually, she’s been feeling blues lately, for some reason…

She spares a brief glance at her current outfit, and shrugs. Sweat pants are comfy, and it’s not like she’s here to impress anyone, anyways. It probably looks pretty funny, actually, Lloyd in his gi and Pixal in her armor, then Nya seated between them looking like she just rolled out of bed.

“I like your glasses, by the way,” Lloyd mentions to Pixal, after they’ve finished with her story (she caught the guy about three flights down, which is less than Nya would have let him fall for).

“Oh!” Pixal’s hand drifts to the large-rimmed glasses she’s wearing. “Oh, thank you, I had forgotten I still had them on.”

“I told you they looked good on you,” Nya says, with an air of satisfaction. “You should keep ‘em.”

“Really?” Pixal says, hesitantly. “But I don’t really need them. My eyesight is perfectly fine.”

Nya shrugs. “Kai doesn’t need hair gel.”

“Jay doesn’t need ten blue jackets,” Lloyd chimes in.

“Cole doesn’t need sleeves.”

“Nya doesn’t need Starfarer socks.”

“Lloyd doesn’t need seven of those extra soft blankets.“

“Yes I do, there’s seven nights in a week,” Lloyd defends.

Nya shakes her head. “The point is, you might not need them, but you can want them. And if you want them, wear them! Simple as that.”

“Oh,” Pixal says, turning this over in her head. She finally nods. “I will keep them, then.”

“Nice!” Lloyd raises his teacup. “To Pixal’s glasses, then.”

“Hear, hear,” Nya clinks her cup against his. Pixal looks slightly confused, but she clinks her cup against theirs nonetheless. Lloyd snickers, and Nya leans back, sipping at her cooling tea.

“So, how’s it been on your side?” Nya asks Lloyd, nudging him.

Lloyd’s expression falls a bit, though Nya can tell he’s trying to look content about it. “Oh, it’s good,” he says, his cheer sounding forced. “There’s, um. There’s some late nights and stuff, but it’s not…it’s not bad, or anything. It’s good. Good times.”

Nya trades looks with Pixal.

“That was a terrible lie,” Pixal says, turning back to him.

Lloyd buries a hand in his hair, leaning back. “Ugh, fine. It’s a little lonely, that’s all, okay?”

Nya’s heart dips, and she bites her lip. It’s been lonely on her side, too, traveling the countryside by herself, but Lloyd has always taken that sort of thing harder.

“You know you can call us whenever, right?” Nya reminds him. “And Pixal’s here too, if you wanna talk to her,” she adds, as Pixal nods.

“Yeah, I know, it’s just-“ Lloyd sighs. “I dunno, it’s harder to enjoy stuff when it’s just you,” he mumbles, shifting his teacup in a circle on the table. “And like, I love protecting the city, but it’s a little more difficult to do it on your own.”

“I actually miss the guys and their dumb catchphrases, too,” Nya admits. “It is less fun on your own, huh.”

Pixal looks between the two of them. “I’ve never been part of that,” she says. “So I cannot empathize, I’m afraid.” She sighs, brushing a tuft of silver hair from her face. “I do wish to experience it someday, though,” she says, quietly.

“You should join up with us, then!” Lloyd says, eagerly. “When the guys get back, you can be on the team too-“

“Lloyd,” Nya says, quietly. Lloyd looks at her, then at Pixal.

“O-only if you want to, that is,” he says quickly, deflating a bit. “If you wanna…reveal yourself, and stuff. It’s up to you.”

“Thank you for the offer,” Pixal says, smiling slightly. “I’ll consider it. But in the meantime-“

The TV in the shop corner suddenly scratches, warbling out the tinny alert of a news update as a reporter’s harried voice comes through.

“-violent activity in the northwest city quarter again as another bank is hit, suspected to be attributed to the recent rise in biker gangs. Police are on their way to the scene as we speak-“

“In the meantime…” Nya mutters. She meets Lloyd’s eyes, then Pixal’s. She carefully sets her cup of tea down. “Anyone up for a little team bonding right now?”

Pixal and Lloyd look at each other. “Yes,” Pixal replies enthusiastically, standing. “Let’s go kick butt!”

Lloyd’s face splits into a grin. “Yeah, that’s what I’m talking about!” he says, shooting up from his own seat. “Let’s show these guys who’s boss. The uh - the bosses. Multiple bosses, ‘cause there’s three of us.”

Nya snorts, but she stands as well, shouldering her katana as she does. Looks like she’s fighting crime in sweatpants tonight.

“Was that too assertive?” Pixal whispers to Nya, as they trail out of the restaurant.

“Nope!” Nya grins proudly. “You’re doing great. Kicking butt is the number one ninja requirement.”

“Oh, good,” Pixal says. “Samurai, as well?”

“Pix,” Nya says, slinging an arm around her shoulder. “Here’s the thing you gotta remember. Ninja kick butt. Samurai? They do it better.”

*********

There wasn’t really a conscious choice, per say, to split their team up like they did — a lot of it ended being convenience, timing, Jay and Cole arguing so much nobody else wanted to deal with them, and that sort of thing — so it’s not like it was a purposeful decision that Nya and Lloyd got stuck on solo missions.

Well, just Nya gets missions, really. At least she gets to travel, and stuff — Lloyd is stuck babysitting Ninjago City on his own, which is slightly funny and even more concerning, because Lloyd should not be babysitting anyone when he’s the one that needs babysitting.

(Look, Ninjago City has never claimed it was “perfectly fine” after taking a crowbar to the head, then tried to double-flip over to the next building and ended up nearly cracking its skull open on the dumpster it fell into instead.)

(Lloyd has…a questionable track record, that’s what Nya’s trying to say.)

So it’s more than a little relieving that Nya knows Pixal is there to keep an eye on him.

“-I mean, what if she hadn’t been there, Lloyd?” Nya says accusingly, as Pixal carefully wraps Lloyd’s wrist from where she sits across the table from them. “What were you gonna do? Take another twenty fists to the face?”

“Id wasn’ twen’y fisds,” Lloyd mumbles into the napkin he’s got pressed against his nose, which is just barely not broken.

“It was certainly close,” Pixal pauses and frowns, studying Lloyd’s wrist before continuing to wrap it. Nya gives Lloyd a pointed glare, and he wilts into the booth.

They’ve chosen a 24-hour breakfast diner this time, one of those ones that looks like it’s been there since the dawn of time and will likely be there until the end of the world itself. The circular lamps that hang above their table cast them all in an odd yellow lighting, that makes Pixal’s hair look almost blond, and the bright green in Lloyd’s eyes look like it’s glowing. The linoleum floors beneath their shoes are cracked, the walls of the diner coated in plaster layer upon plaster layer that’s been half-heartedly hidden behind old music posters — and this one old picture Lloyd likes that’s got a cat eating a bunch of pancakes.

It’s around four in the morning when they meet there — because that’s when Pixal yanked Lloyd out of the drug bust — so their only other companions in the joint are heavy-eyed truck drivers and half-conscious people who are probably regretting hitting up as many bars as they did. It’s nice, though, because the employees seem like they’ve served hell itself with a bored expression, so no one really looks at the two ninja and a samurai crammed into the vinyl booth twice.

Lloyd pulls another bloody napkin away from his nose, making a face as he replaces it with a new one. “I’m fine, ‘kay,” he says, voice muffled as he winces, trying to stop the blood flow. “Id’s nod a big deal. I had id handled.”

“I hope that isn’t what you all consider ‘having it handled’,” Pixal says, gently tying off the bandages around Lloyd’s wrist. “There. All done. Ah, I believe that ice helps alleviate the pain, if you wish to…?”

“Yeah,” Lloyd flashes Pixal a small grin — Nya cringes at the blood on his teeth — as he takes the napkin-wrapped ice from her and sets it against his wrist. “D’anks, Pixal.”

He finally pulls the napkin away, prodding cautiously at his nose before deciding it isn’t going to bleed anymore. Nya gives him another pointed look, and Lloyd sighs, gathering up the bloody napkins and walking them over to the trash can.

“Thank you, seriously,” Nya mutters while he’s gone, rubbing a hand across her temple. “I was so far out, I don’t know what I would have done…”

“Of course,” Pixal says, patting Nya’s hand a little awkwardly. “I will always help Lloyd if he needs it. And I promised you I would keep an eye on him, right?”

“Yeah,” Nya smiles at her. “Thanks. You’ve been stellar.”

Pixal smiles lightly, and takes another sip of her tea. She immediately wrinkles her nose. “This is…not as good as the other place.”

Nya makes a face at her own cup of tea, which is sitting untouched. “Yeah, it’s not the best,” she says, braving another sip. Ugh, nope, hasn’t gotten any better in the last five minutes. “We’re kinda just here for the food,” she says, apologetically.

Pixal shakes her head. “That’s perfectly fine,” she says, as Lloyd ducks back into the booth with them. “Food is good as well.”

She’s spoken not a moment too soon — a yawning server makes their way to them, flipping at his notepad apathetically.

“You gonna get anything to eat?” he asks, sounding like he couldn’t care either way.

“Hi, yes,” Nya speaks up, before Lloyd can. She cuts him a you’re grounded look, which Lloyd sinks lower into the booth at, sulking. “I’ll have the biscuits with a side of bacon. Pixal?”

“I’ll have the, um, biscuits as well, thank you,” Pixal says.

The server nods, scribbling away. He looks back up. “Anything else?”

Nya is highly aware of the plaintive looks Lloyd is giving her.

“…and we’ll also take two chocolate-chip pancakes, extra whipped cream please,” she sighs. Lloyd beams.

Geez, it’s like watching a puppy, she thinks in amusement, studying him. A puppy with hair that probably needs to get cut pretty soon, she notices, watching the way the blond locks now fall into his eyes.

Lloyd remains oblivious to her stare, too busy stacking the little syrup containers into a geometric-shaped tower.

“You better not be using all of those,” Nya says, narrowing her eyes.

Lloyd shifts. “Of course not,” he scowls, but she notices that he very visibly moves the syrup packets closer to him. Nya snatches at them before he can all but sweep them into his lap, and a muffled battle over the packets ensues, with Nya emerging victorious and Lloyd left with a mere two small packets.

Lloyd gives a miserable sigh.

“Here,” Pixal says, sliding the five — five?! — packets Nya had somehow missed over to Lloyd. “You can have mine.”

Lloyd lights up. “Thanks, Pixal!” he says.“You’re my favorite sister tonight,” he says, shrewdly glaring at Nya.

“Excuse me for not wanting you to go into cardiac arrest at the young age of thirteen,” Nya grumbles.

Lloyd turns pink. “I am not thirteen-!” he yelps — and immediately claps a hand over his mouth as his voice cracks. Nya bursts into snickers as Lloyd sinks back into the booth, pulling the neck of his sweatshirt up over his scarlet face.

Oh, Kai’s gonna be so mad if he gets back and Lloyd’s gotten over his awkward voice-crack stage without him, Nya thinks.

Pixal, however, isn’t snickering, or even smiling bemusedly like she normally does when she doesn’t get something at first. Instead, she’s staring at Lloyd with an odd look on her face, almost like surprise.

“Pix?” Nya asks, her laughter dying off. “Everything okay?”

Lloyd looks up as well, emerging from his sweatshirt a bit, rubbing at his bandaged wrist as he does.

Pixal shakes her head. “Yes, I just-“ she blinks, staring at Lloyd again. “You…you called me your sister.”

Lloyd turns a bit pink again. “Oh, uh, yeah,” he says, hesitantly. “Is that - was that okay? I didn’t mean to make you uncomfortable, or anything, I just-“

“No, no, that is not it!” Pixal says, hastily. “I just — I didn’t think you…saw me that way.”

Lloyd’s still pink, but he looks a little less hesitant as he shrugs. “Well, yeah, you’re family, right?” he says, in that innocent way he has, like it’s obvious.

Pixal blinks rapidly, but the start of a smile edges its way up her face. “Oh,” she says, looking down as if to blush. “Right.”

Nya feels a grin edge up her own mouth, watching the happy smile that plays across Pixal’s face as she sips at the tea, Lloyd digging in to the pancakes beside her, still sniffling occasionally but otherwise happy.

Fine, Nya decides. She’ll let him off the hook for this one.

*******

The next time they’re able to meet up is barely in passing, crammed into a tiny shop Pixal spots on the riverfront while on patrol one night. Between the three of them they’ve been hopelessly busy — Lloyd and Pixal have had their arms full looking out for Ninjago city lately, crime having picked up drastically. They keep talking about this new bike gang that’s been showing up, which is apparently giving them both a lot of trouble and a few killer headaches. Nya would offer to take a look into it, but she’s supposed to head out for the rural villages later this morning, and it doesn’t sound too concerning. Lloyd and Pixal assure her that it’s probably just a gang on a vicious streak, that’s all.

They can handle it, that’s the message Nya’s getting. She’ll take their word for it, for now.

The riverfront shop is right where the nicer quarter meets the rougher edge of town, and that’s illustrated in the shop’s decor, gold-trimmed wallpaper run with cracks, the dark wood tables nicked and dented with scratches and scrapes. It’s got a nice view of the river, though, and the tea’s pretty good, so they decide it gets a thumbs-up in their slowly growing list of places to get tea without being immediately recognized.

They get there in the early hours of the morning again — the sun is just peeking over the horizon by the time they start on their tea. Lloyd’s finishing up telling them about Jay and Cole’s last check-in, laughing as he recounts Jay’s reaction when he realized the monastery they’re checking out is on top of the mountain, not at the bottom.

“And how are Kai and Zane?” Pixal asks as he finishes, visibly hiding her interest.

“They’re good, too,” Lloyd says, brightly. Nya knows it’s because he got to talk on the phone with Kai last night — really talk with Kai the other night, which is always good for the both of them. “I think they’re hitting some of the southern villages, Zane was talking about wanting to double-check on some rumors there about crime and stuff.”

“That sounds like him,” Pixal says, fondly. “Thank you,” she tells him.

Lloyd nods, stifling a yawn as he does and rubbing at his eyes. The gesture makes him look younger, but not by much. He’s looking older every time she sees him, Nya thinks with a pang, baby fat almost entirely gone, his voice pitching deeper by the day. Lloyd doesn’t seem to think much of it, but it pulls at Nya’s heart — Lloyd’s been the family baby for so long (he always will be, regardless), and it’s hard to think that he’s actually capable of doing something like growing up. He’s been living on his own, too, so he’s more independent than Nya remembers him. What’s next? A girlfriend?

Nya wrinkles her nose. She can’t imagine Lloyd dating anyone (much less anyone deserving him, at that, but she’s a bit biased).

But Lloyd isn’t the only one to have changed. Pixal looks different too, her hair pulled into a new style today, glimmering little earrings flashing when she moves. She looks like she’s finding out who Pixal is, something Nya had suggested several cups of tea back, and there’s no bittersweet edge in her happiness as she notices that.

“And there’s still no news about your uncle?”

Nya blinks back to the present at Pixal’s question — it’s something she’s been wondering herself.

Lloyd shakes his head. “Nothing,” he says, looking troubled. “I haven’t even heard from my mother yet.”

Nya twists her teacup in her hands, eyebrows furrowing. Misako doesn’t have…a great track record, but she’s at least been steady at letting Lloyd know how and where she is. The radio silence is probably concerning.

“Hey, I’ll keep an eye out for her while I’m traveling, okay?” Nya says, reaching out and briefly squeezing his hand. “I’ll let the guys know, too.”

“Thanks,” Lloyd says, with a weak smile. “Appreciate it.” He glances over at Pixal. “We’ve got the city in the meantime. We’ll make sure it doesn’t burn down while you’re gone, or something.”

“With Kai abroad, I think we’ll have even better chances,” Pixal says with a hint of a smile, and Lloyd snorts.

Nya chews on her lip as she watches them. Lloyd doesn’t just look older, he’s quieter now, too, more subdued. It’s making her heart hurt — and weirdly, making her feel even more protective. Like she needs to stay here for a little longer, keep a closer eye on things, instead of setting out just yet.

Or maybe she’s just tired.

Nya watches him spoon sugar into his cup, and feels a slight flare of relief. At least he’s not totally grown-up.

She glances at her watch, and sighs. Lloyd notices the action, and his face falls a bit. “That time already?”

Nya nods, heart sinking. “I wish I could stay longer,” she says, regretfully. “I mean, there’s another bus I could take this evening, but-“

“Nah, you don’t wanna get stuck in rush hour traffic,” Lloyd says, with all the wisdom of someone who’s spent too much time on the Ninjago streets.

Pixal nods, looking serious. “They’ve closed a few roads for construction, too. You won’t get out for ages.”

“Alright, alright, I see how it is,” Nya grumbles, draining the rest of her tea. “I’ll get out of your hair and let you two get back to running the city already.”

They both burst into protests, and Nya laughs, half-heartedly swatting them away as they embrace her. She lets them hold on for a second longer than usual, though, and perhaps holds on a bit longer herself.

It won’t be that long, she tells herself. Things can’t change that much more any time soon, anyways.

********

It’s a while before they’re able to meet after that, to the point that they almost forget entirely about their late-night tea meet-ups. They spend a good deal of time with each other in the early days of the Resistance of course, plotting against Harumi and Garmadon and trying to piece themselves back together, but they’re far too heartsore for any real conversation, and it’s hard enough getting Lloyd to eat or drink anything during that time.

But they make it through — battered and bruised and slightly worse for wear, but they make it through alive and unbroken. So by the time they’ve made sure all the Sons of Garmadon have been rounded up, and the guys have talked themselves into what’s probably much-needed sleep (Nya hasn’t seen Kai with dark circles that bad in ages), their spirits have picked up enough that they don’t sit in completely depressed and despairing silence at the coffee shop they find that’s miraculously still open amidst the chaos.

They do, however, spend a good few minutes sitting around in utterly exhausted silence, slumped around the battered table.

Nya’s not entirely sure why they’re even here — they haven’t even changed from their Resistance clothes yet, much less slept or showered. And they need it. Nya’s uniform has tearing holes that stretch over her left shoulder and lower arm, and Lloyd’s green uniform is colored black in places where it’s been charred, sporting as many, if not more tears than hers is. Pixal’s armor is dented and dirty, and she’s got her own charred spots from when she crashed the mech into Garmadon.

It’s not like they were trying to escape the recently-returned guys, either — in fact, the only reason they’re not currently with them is because they’re all dead asleep at the moment.

Something, Nya supposes, none of their trio really want to do at the moment.

Lloyd finally stirs, giving a low moan as he stretches, wincing as his shoulder shifts and rubbing briefly at it. Pixal stares into her tea cup as if it holds the answers to the universe, her eyes glassy-looking. Nya herself is about two minutes from face-planting into unconsciousness in her own tea, so she clears her throat, wincing briefly as she speaks up.

“Anyone want food?”

“Mm,” Lloyd hums absently. Pixal shrugs.

Nya tries again. “I was thinkin’ noodles.”

Lloyd gives a loud, sudden snort of laughter, closing his eyes and rubbing his hands over them. “Anything. Anything other than noodles.”

Pixal looks up, less groggy as she smiles ruefully. “I think we’ve had enough of those to last us a lifetime,” she says.

“We’re probably indebted to Skylor for a lifetime,” Lloyd mutters into his hands.

“Nah, those were all on the house,” Nya says. “We can put it on Garmadon’s tab if we want, though.”

Nya wants to bite the words back as soon as they escape her mouth. Bringing up Garmadon is exactly what she’d reminded herself not to do, an error matched only by mentioning Harumi.

Lloyd just lowers his hands though, shaking his head wryly. “Maybe,” he says, quietly. Pixal trades a look with Nya as he goes quiet, and Nya is considering changing the subject to something drastically different when Lloyd speaks up again.

“I think he only eats souls of the innocent right now, though.”

Nya gives a loud snort as Pixal breaks into quiet giggles. Lloyd just grins, an exhausted, weary grin, but one of the more genuine ones Nya’s seen in the last month.

Nya cuts her laughter off just as she feels it turning hysterical, threatening to turn into tears, and Pixal’s dies off soon after. They fall back into silence, but it’s more companionable this time, less horribly tired.

“Thanks,” Lloyd suddenly whispers. Pixal looks up at him, but neither of them really need to ask what for.

“For everything,” he continues, after the beat of silence. “I owe you guys.”

“We only did what you do for us,” Nya says. “Besides, we gotta stick together, us three.”

“That’s what family does,” Pixal adds, and Lloyd gives her a smile that’s only slightly edged in pain.

Their conversation dwindles off again, leaving only the sounds of people crowding the streets outside, sirens and construction and large trucks moving by. The sounds of life are loud in comparison to the unnatural, terrified quiet of the last few weeks, but they blur into a comforting sort of white noise with the soft piano music of the shop. Nya feels her eyes drift shut, bone-deep exhaustion leaving her feeling almost weightless.

“Hey,” Lloyd suddenly says. “D’you think I can still get my car back?”

Nya blinks up at him, opening her mouth then closing it. Pixal frowns, tilting her head.

“Did you get a parking pass?” she says. “I heard they’re strict about that at Kryptarium.”

Lloyd’s the first to give in, bursting into infectious giggles, so terrible as the joke is Nya follows right after, her loud laughter joining Pixal’s. It’s laughter edged in exhausted hysteria and the suppressed emotions of the past weeks, and this time Nya does let a few tears fall, but-

It’s real laughter, the kind that reminds Nya that they’ve won, and that gives the shop a pretty high spot on their list from that alone.

The tea’s not half-bad, either.

[ancient-anteater]

Lloyd let out a sigh as he looked at all the old armor and weapons, he held up a black orb of sorts, not similar at all to all the gold in the giant temple.

“Floyd! Where are you brat?” Jay almost growled before spotting Lloyd and giving him a smack on the back of the head. “We’re leaving!” Jay was already walking to the big wooden doors, the entrance into the abandoned mountain castle.

“Coming!” Lloyd said, barely confident that they even wanted him to infest the ship again. He considered leaving, more than once, but then the punishment would be severe. He quickly hurried out the doors before Cole shut them with a slam. The castle was a beautiful white marble building, Lloyd didn’t understand why anyone would want to leave such a place, he took one more look at the building before Kai’s slurs drew him away from the beauty and towards the misery of their landed ship.

Not even noticing the four green eyes following him.

The furred figure chuckled to themself. He would be perfect. They would have to deal with the other ninja first. They didn’t need anything scratching up their soon to be host.

-Time skip to dinner-

Lloyd quickly grabbed his food and headed to his small cramped room. He didn’t notice the rather large wolf, dragon looking thing behind him.

Nightfang let out a small chuckle at the rather skinny child, their ear flickered overhearing the other members of the green child's pack.

They were talking about, now known “Lu-Loyd” behind his back, Lloyd sounded weird to them, two L’s. It should be Lu-Loyd. Anyway back to the topic at hand. This would be fun for the demon creature.

Lloyd quickly stood hearing screams from Jay and Zane, he quickly ran to the dining room where no one was in sight, but the posters and wall were badly ripped. Sharp claw marks across the table and the light broken, shards of glass over the torn wooden floor, floorboards in their self were ripped up. Another scream, from the deck.

Lloyd quickly ran out onto the rain-soaked deck, thunder flashing in the distance. Light flashed, and he saw it, a large somewhat skinny wolf-like creature with a large tail and mane, curled horns going around its ears. What seemed like black freckles around its nose, under its eyes and separating the pair above, freckles dotting their thighs and shoulders. Piercing emerald eyes, two necklaces, many bracelets and what seemed like beetle earrings. Silver armor over their fur as some sort of clothing. A scar decorating their long muzzle.

Jay screamed as he was thrown into the beam that held the mainsail, Cole was pinned under the creature's tail and Zane somehow lost a arm, though his blue blood coated one of the creatures sharp-clawed hands. Kai's head stuck in the other hand.

“Stop!” Lloyd said with slight fear, the green-eyed creature quickly dropped Kai and hit Cole quickly across the back with their tail making him stay down once more.

“Of course Lu-Loyd, whatever you wish,” The wolf-like thing said with a quiet hiss that their fun was ruined. Lloyd gulped a bit as the creature towered over him

“W-who are you…?” Lloyd spoke quietly

“NightFang, fierce ruler of all.” They spoke with dignity and what seemed like happiness at their title. “And I am here to serve you, prince of darkness” The creature leaned down on its legs and bowed, extending its red jeweled sword towards him as a gift.

“What the fuck?! Lloyd what did you do his time you worthless brat!” Cole said with a hiss, trying to get up from the blow to his back. All the ninja glared.

[fanfic-she-wrote]

The Talbot Curse (4/?)

The Wolfman (1941) AU where Sir John gets bitten at the end of the   movie and has to deal with the fact that he killed his son and has become the werewolf himself. In this chapter there’s a little bit of gore and an animal death. Enjoy!

Chapter 4: Night bound

The wolf bolted out of the house, fresh blood staining his lips. He ran across the lawn and into the woods. The fog was thick making it difficult to see, but it didn’t slow him down. He was on a mission and nothing was going to stop him. He was still hungry; his first kill wasn’t satisfying enough. The wolf roamed around the woods for a short time, searching for new prey. Finally, he came upon a clearing with a little stream and across from it stood a deer, eating some grass. His eyes fixated on it for a moment. He could smell its blood clear across the water. How delicious it would taste. The wolf crept down behind a bush, his back arched, ready to pounce. He licked his lips as he stood there watching the deer, oblivious to its fate. Without warning, he leapt out from behind the bush, and over the stream of water, landing on a rock in front of the deer. Before the deer had a chance to escape, the wolf jumped at its tearing its many sharp teeth into the animal’s flesh. The was a brief struggle before the deer finally died. The wolf tilted his head back and let out of triumphant howl, before going back to his meal.

After finishing with the deer, he continued through the woods. No longer hungry, he was instead curious. This was his first night awake and he was curious to know his surroundings. That’s when he came upon a small camp. He could smell fresh blood everywhere, but no one was awake, except for a small woman who sat on her porch in a rocking chair, staring off into the stars. The werewolf crouched down, carefully sneaking towards his new victim, this one just for sport.

Suddenly, a twig broke from underneath his paw, making a loud cracking noise that echoed through the night alerting the old woman to his presence. She quickly stood up, her eyes scanning the area, knowing that the only other being awake besides her tonight would be the werewolf. A few feet away from her she saw a pair of yellow eyes, gleaming back at her through the fog. The wolf stopped for a moment, considering whether or not to attack. Now that he was seen, it made the game a lot less interesting. Deciding to do it anyway, he started to run towards her, and just as he was about to attack, the woman pulled out a necklace that had been hidden underneath the collar of her dress. He stumbled backwards, blocking his eyes, and yowling in pain at the sight of the necklace. It was in the shape of a pentagram.

“Get away!” She yelled at him, standing firm. “Go back Sir John!”

Not wanting to stick around any longer, the wolf darted away, disappearing into the darkness. The woman sighed in relief and sat back down, clutching her chest. That could have been the end. Even though she had experiences with werewolves before, it still shook her to her core. She twirled around the pentagram in her hand, her mind deep in thought. After meeting the wolf firsthand, she decided that she would give Sir John one last chance to accept her help. Maybe now he would understand.

The wolf ran as fast as his legs could carry him away from the camp, away from that old lady. As he reached the stream again, he started to feel tired, like something had drained all his energy. He slowly waded across the river, to the other side. He looked up at the sky and saw that it was nearly dawn. A bright pink replacing the black of the night. The wolf let out one last, small howl, before collapsing on the ground.

As the moon disappeared and morning came, the features of the werewolf slowly began to fade away, turning back into his original form. Sir John lay in peaceful slumber for a while, seemingly unaware of the events that had taken place that night. After a while, he began to stir. He sat up and rubbed his eyes. It was over. But before he had a chance to celebrate, he looked around, confused for a moment. This wasn’t the observatory. He looked down at his wrists and saw the chains were broken. His plan had failed. “Oh God…” He murmured, placing his face in his hands. Did he kill anyone?

His back and legs ached. They felt like someone was trying to pull his bones out from his body. He looked down and saw that blood stained his white shirt. Where…or who did that come from? He could feel a sense of guilt and dread lying in the pit of his stomach. He also saw that his pants were torn at the knees and his shoes had come off, leaving him to walk around bare-feet through the brisk Autumn morning. He quickly glanced around making sure no one was nearby, and got up, sprinting back to the house as fast as he could before someone saw him. He wasn’t too eager to explain the state of his appearance.

He sighed in relief as he reached the great oak doors of Talbot Castle without a single soul seeing him. The doors creaked loudly as he pushed them open and stepped inside. It was eerily quiet, more so than usual. He was used to the house being quiet for a long time, especially after his children grew up, and left to go their own way…but for some reason he felt like something wasn’t quite right. It made the hairs on the back of his neck stand up. He stood there for a moment inspecting his surroundings. Nothing seemed out of place, not from what he could see. So, unable to come up with any conclusion, he just brushed it off and hoped he was wrong.

Desperately wanting to change out of his tattered clothes and take a shower, he bolted up the stairs. All of a sudden, he tripped over something and fell down, his head colliding with a step as he went, nearly knocking him back out. He lay there and rubbed his head, feeling dazed. What had he tripped on? He lifted himself onto his knees and turned around his eyes falling upon the lifeless, mangled body of Dr. Lloyd, the first victim to the werewolf.  John gasped and clasped a hand to his mouth, his stomach lurching at the horrid sight before his eyes. “What have I done?!” He placed a hand on Lloyd’s face, it was ice cold. What do I do? He wondered, unsure whether to inform the police about it or not? Would they accuse him of murder? He glanced down at the corpse and shook his head. No. No human could do that. He reasoned, noting how the throat was torn apart. He sighed in defeat. He would handle this, but only after he cleaned up. Lloyd was just going to have to wait a little longer.

After retrieving the key from Lloyd’s coat pocket, he ran up the stairs and into the bathroom, where he quickly took off the cuffs, rubbing his wrists where they had cut into them leaving slight gouge marks. John remembered last night and watching as his hands changed before his eyes into horrible claws. Not wanting to think about last night, he pushed it from his mind as best he could. He turned on the shower and began to undress, first taking off his shirt and then his pants tossing them in the trash, along with the cuffs. He leaned over the sink and looked up into the mirror at his reflection. He almost didn’t recognize himself. His hair was a mess and his face had several cuts, one particularly deep one on the bridge of his nose. He wondered how he got that one. He then ran his hand over his lips, noticing the dried blood that ran down them and onto his chin. It was Lloyd’s blood. Hopefully only his. Who knows how many others he could have killed last night?

After taking a warm shower and cleaning off all the grime and blood from the previous night, he half-heartedly got dressed, and combed his hair. His appearance was the least of his worries.

He slowly went down the stairs, hoping somehow that he had imagined the body being there, but he didn’t. He came to a stop and knelt down beside Dr. Lloyd. “I’m so sorry. I didn’t mean for this to happen. I should never have gotten you involved. You were a good friend…you didn’t deserve this.” John spoke in a low, somber voice.

After a while, he got up and went over to the telephone that was on a table by the door, his hand lingered over it for a moment, contemplating what he would say and how long it would take to move the body before they showed up. The police would surely question how the wolf attacked Dr. Lloyd in his own home. His hand fell back to his side, unable to bring himself to do anything. He went into the drawing room and stood before the fireplace, looking down into the dying embers. Somehow everything seemed quieter now than when he first came in. He heard no birds chirping or any of the usual noises you would expect to hear at this time of day, just a faint breeze here and there making a whistling noise as it snuck in through the cracks in the windows. He strode over to the window and watched as the leaves slowly fell from the trees. Normally, this would be a very peaceful morning where he would sit and have a nice warm cup of tea, but today was different. There was nothing calming or peaceful about it.

In the distance, his eyes fell upon a figure heading towards the house, dog in tow. It was Andrews, the groundskeeper. He forgot about him. He held his breath, a rush of panic coming over him. What was he going to do? He ran his hand through his, greying brown hair, his mind racing. How was he going to get the body outside without Andrews noticing?

Finally, after careful consideration he decided to move Lloyd down into the cellar for the time being. Andrews wouldn’t go in the cellar; he had no reason to. When night came, he would just move the body outside. He ran out into the hallway and went up the stairs, picking Lloyd up, and swinging him over his shoulder. Normally, this wouldn’t have been an easy feat especially for his age, but brute strength was a trait of the werewolf. He quickly opened the cellar door, not bothering to turn on the light, he could see in the dark just as well. He assumed that was another thing that came with being a werewolf.

As he went down the stairs, he stopped for a moment. He could hear someone above. Was it Andrews? He had to hurry. John quickly ran down the remainder of the stairs, finally reaching the bottom a few moments later. He placed Lloyd in a corner near the staircase, carefully hidden away by a shelf of old books. “I’m sorry.” He whispered, feeling guilty. Lloyd deserved so much more than this. Maybe he should just turn himself in? That would be the right thing to do. He took a deep breath and went back upstairs. As he approached the hall, he could smell Andrews’s scent. A feeling of dread washing over him as he opened the door, and slowly stepped out.

“Ah! Good morning Sir John!” Andrews greeted him, tipping his hat. John forced a smile.

“Good morning.” He said, his voice hoarser than he imagined. All of a sudden Andrews dog began barking and growling at John, his tail between his legs.

“Hey boy! Stop that!” Andrews looked up at Sir John, dumbfounded. His dog never did this to people, especially those he knew. John glared down at the dog. Somehow the dog knew what he was and didn’t like it. He was only trying to protect his master.

“I’m sorry, Sir John. I don’t know what got into him.” Andrews said, backing towards the door, pulling on the leash.

“By the way, I found a dead deer on the property. I think it’s the wolf.” Andrews told him as he opened the door. John felt his heart leap into his throat.

“Oh…” Was all he could manage to say.

“We’ll get it yet. Don’t worry.” Andrews assured him, even though he wasn’t so sure himself. It had been 2 months and they still hadn’t caught it.

“I’m sure.” John said in a quiet voice, not looking at the young man before him. If only he knew that the wolf they were trying to hunt was him.

“See you later.” Andrews said, tipping his hat again before heading out the door, shutting it behind him. The barking quieting down the further they got from the house.

John ran his hand through his hair again. Apparently, the wolf wasn’t satisfied with killing a human it had to go kill a deer too. Who knows what else it would do tonight? He thought to himself. Not knowing what to do, he paced the room. Normally he would have gone up to the observatory to think, but that was the last place he wanted to be right now. That was where he turned into the monster. That’s what he was. He thought. A monster. How could he live with himself after everything he did? He hid Lloyd’s body in the cellar, why? Because he was afraid. What did he have to lose? He already lost everything he cared about. What a coward. In random burst of anger, mostly at himself, he kicked down a chair sending it flying across the room. He sighed and annoyingly shoved his hands in his pockets. He had to do something. He had to figure out what to do somehow, but he couldn’t think, not here. Feeling tired, he decided that maybe a nap would help. He went up the stairs, slowly walking down the hallway to his room. His legs barely carrying him. He didn’t know whether it was from a lack of sleep or a lack of a will to live. But he had no choice. There was no way to kill a werewolf…or was there?

He went across the hall, into Larry’s room. On the bed were the broken pieces of his cane. He picked up the part with the handle and held it up, the silver gleaming in the morning sunlight that peaked through the window. This would work. He was going to end this curse once and for all. There was going to be another full moon tonight and he didn’t want any more blood on his hands. This was it.

[acsversace-news]

Ryan Murphy hates the word “camp.” He sees it as a lazy catchall that gets thrown at gay artists in order to marginalize their ambitions, to frame their work as niche. “I don’t think that when John Waters made ‘Female Trouble’ that he was, like, ‘I want to make a camp piece,’ ” Murphy told me last May, as we sat in a production tent in South Beach, Florida, where he was directing the pilot of “American Crime Story: The Assassination of Gianni Versace,” a nine-episode series for FX. “I think that he was, like, ‘It’s my tone—and my tone is unique.’ ”

Murphy prefers a different label: “baroque.” Between shots, the showrunner—who has overseen a dozen television series in the past two decades—elaborated, with regal authority, on this idea. To Murphy, “camp” describes not irony but something closer to clumsiness, the accident you can’t look away from. People rarely use the term to describe a melodrama made by a straight man; even when “camp” is meant as a compliment, it contains an insult, suggesting a musty smallness. “Baroque” is big. Murphy, referring to TV critics (including me) who have applied “camp” to his work, said, “I will admit that it really used to bug the shit out of me. But it doesn’t anymore.”

We were outside the Casa Casuarina, the Mediterranean-style mansion that the Italian fashion designer Gianni Versace renovated and considered his masterwork—a building with airy courtyards and a pool inlaid with dizzy ribbons of red, orange, and yellow ceramic tiles. A small bronze statue of a kneeling Aphrodite stood at the top of the mansion’s front steps. In 1997, a young gay serial killer named Andrew Cunanan shot Versace to death there as the designer, who was fifty, was returning from his morning stroll.

The previous day, Murphy had filmed the murder scene. Cunanan was played by Darren Criss, a star of Murphy’s biggest hit, “Glee.” I’d visited the set that day, too, arriving to find ambulances, cops, and paparazzi swarming outside. There was a splash of red on the marble steps. Inside the house, Edgar Ramirez, the Venezuelan actor playing Versace, sat in a shaded courtyard, his hair caked with gun-wound makeup, his face lowered in his hands.

Now Murphy was filming the aftermath of the crime, including a scene in which two lookie-loos dip a copy of Vanity Fair into the puddle of Versace’s blood. (They sell the relic on eBay.) The vibe was an odd blend of sombre and festive; a half-naked rollerblader spun in slow circles on the sidewalk next to the beach. Murphy, who is fifty-three, is a stylish man, but on set he wore the middle-aged male showrunner’s uniform: baggy cargo shorts and a polo shirt. He has a rosebud mouth and close-cropped vanilla hair. He is five feet ten but has a brawny air of command, creating the illusion that he is much taller. His brother is six feet four, he told me, as was his late father; Murphy thinks that his own growth was stunted by chain-smoking when he was a rebellious teen-ager, in Indiana.

Murphy’s mood tends to shift unexpectedly, like a wonky thermostat—now warm, now icy—but on the “Versace” set he made one confident decision after another about the many shows he was overseeing, as if skipping stones. He also answered stray questions—about the casting for a Broadway revival of “The Boys in the Band” that he was producing, about a grand house in Los Angeles that he’d been renovating for two years. “Ooh, yes!” he said, inspecting penis-nosed clown masks that had been designed for his series “American Horror Story.” He approved a bespoke nail-polish design for an actress. A producer handed Murphy an updated script, joking, “If there’s a mistake, you can drown me in Versace’s pool!,” then scheduled a notes meeting for “American Crime Story: Katrina,” whose writers were working elsewhere in the building. Now and then, Murphy FaceTimed with his then four-year-old son, Logan, who, along with his two-year-old brother, Ford, was in L.A. with Murphy’s husband, David Miller.

“I never get overwhelmed or feel underwater, because I feel like all good things come from detail,” Murphy told me. It’s what got him to this point: the compulsion, and the craving, to do more. “Baroque is a sensibility I can get behind,” he said. “Baroque is a maximalist approach to storytelling that I’ve always liked. Baroque is a choice. And everything I do is an absolute choice.”

Murphy’s choices, perhaps more than those of any other showrunner, have upended the pieties of modern television. Like a wild guest at a dinner party, he’d lifted the table and slammed it back down, leaving the dishes broken or arranged in a new order. Several of Murphy’s shows have been critically divisive (and, on occasion, panned in ways that have raised his hackles). But he has produced an unusually long string of commercial and critical hits: audacious, funny-peculiar, joyfully destabilizing series, in nearly every genre. His run started with the satirical melodrama “Nip/Tuck” (2003), then continued with the global phenomenon “Glee” (2009) and with “American Horror Story,” now entering its eighth year, which launched the influential season-long anthology format. His legacy is not one standout show but, rather, the sheer force and variety and chutzpah of his creations, which are linked by a singular storytelling aesthetic: stylized extremity and rude humor, shock conjoined with sincerity, and serious themes wrapped in circus-bright packaging. He is the only television creator who could possibly have presented Lily Rabe as a Satan-possessed nun, gyrating in a red negligee in front of a crucifix while singing “You Don’t Own Me,” and have it come across as an indelible critique of the Catholic Church’s misogyny.

When Murphy entered the industry, he sometimes struck his peers as an aloof, prickly figure; he has deep wounds from those years, although he admits that he contributed to this reputation. Nonetheless, Murphy has moved steadily from the margins to television’s center. He changed; the industry changed; he changed the industry. In February, Murphy rose even higher, signing the largest deal in television history: a three-hundred-million-dollar, five-year contract with Netflix. For Murphy, it was a moment of both triumph and tension. You can’t be the underdog when you’re the most powerful man in TV.

On that sunny afternoon in South Beach, however, Murphy was still comfortably ensconced in a twelve-year deal with Fox Studios. On FX, which is owned by Fox, he had three anthology series: “American Horror Story”; “American Crime Story,” for which he was filming “Versace,” writing “Katrina,” and planning a season based on the Monica Lewinsky scandal; and “Feud,” whose first season starred Susan Sarandon as Bette Davis and Jessica Lange as Joan Crawford.

For Fox, he was developing “9-1-1,” a procedural about first responders. He had announced two shows for Netflix: “Ratched,” a nurse’s-eye view of “One Flew Over the Cuckoo’s Nest,” starring Sarah Paulson; and “The Politician,” a satirical drama starring Ben Platt. Glenn Close was trying to talk him into directing her in a movie version of the Andrew Lloyd Webber musical “Sunset Boulevard.” Murphy was writing a book called “Ladies,” about female icons. He had launched Half, a foundation dedicated to diversity in directing, and had committed to hiring half of his directors from underrepresented groups. And, he told me, there was something new: a series for FX called “Pose,” a dance-filled show set in the nineteen-eighties.

It was no mystery which character in his current series Murphy most identified with: Gianni Versace himself. Versace was a commercially minded artist whose brash inventions were dismissed by know-nothings as tacky, and whose openness about his sexuality threatened his ascent in a homophobic era. Versace, too, was a baroque maximalist, Murphy told me, who built his reputation through fervid workaholism—an insistence that his vision be seen and understood. “He was punished and he struggled,” Murphy said, then spoke in Versace’s voice: “Why aren’t I loved for my excess? Why don’t they see something valid in that?”

[...] Murphy has long been a connoisseur of extremes and hyperbole, games and theatricality. He rates everything he sees and revels in institutions that do the same—the Oscars are a kind of religion for him. In Miami, at dinner with the “Katrina” and “Versace” writers, he played a high-stakes game in which he was forced to immediately choose one person in his circle over another; he demurred only when the choice was between Jessica Lange and Sarah Paulson. His go-to question is “Is it a hit or a flop?,” and he asked it about every show that came up in conversation, as I observed him giving shape to “Pose,” from scouting locations to editing dance footage. (He has other stock phrases. “What’s the scoop?” is how he begins writers’ meetings. “Energy begets energy” explains his impulse to add new projects. “That’s interesting” sometimes indicates “That’s worth noticing” but just as often means “That’s infuriating.”)

[...] His multitasking benefits greatly from the freedoms of cable and streaming: he has zero nostalgia for the twenty-two-episode network grind of a show like “Glee,” in which “halfway through Episode 15 you had nothing left to say, the actors were sick, the writers were sick, and it was fucking oatmeal until the end.” He favors eight or ten episodes, often with a small writers’ room, as with “Pose.” He writes scripts for some shows, whereas for others he gives notes; on a few projects, like his HBO adaptation of Larry Kramer’s play “The Normal Heart,” he’s very hands-on. “We left blood on the dance floor,” Murphy said, affectionately, of his three-year collaboration with Kramer. “Versace” had one writer, Tom Rob Smith. But Murphy provided close directorial, design, and casting oversight, and he had a strong commitment to the show’s themes, particularly the contrast between Versace and Cunanan, two gay men craving success, but only one willing to work for it.

[...] In the meanwhile, Murphy had scored a ratings bonanza with Fox’s “9-1-1,” a wackadoo procedural featuring stories like one about a baby caught in a plumbing pipe. It was his parting gift to Dana Walden. “Versace” had been, by certain standards, a flop: lower ratings, mixed reviews. Artistically, though, it was one of Murphy’s boldest shows, with a backward chronology and a moving performance by Criss as Cunanan, a panicked dandy hollowed out by self-hatred. After the finale aired, a new set of reviews emerged. Matt Brennan, on Paste, argued that “Versace” had been subjected to “the straight glance”—a critical gaze that skims queer art, denying its depths. “Even critics sympathetic to the series seem as uncomfortable with its central subject as the Miami cops were with those South Beach fags,” Brennan wrote. Murphy was reading a new oral history of Tony Kushner’s “Angels in America,” in which, in one scene, Roy Cohn denies being gay because, he barks, homosexuals lack power: they are “men who know nobody and who nobody knows.” The line echoes one in “Versace.” A homeless junkie dying of aids tells the cops, bitterly, why gay men couldn’t stop talking about the designer: “We all imagined what it would be like to be so rich and so powerful that it doesn’t matter that you’re gay.”

[umbry-fic]

A Palette Full of You (6)

Summary: Glimpses into Colette and Lloyd’s lives as they grow up together, learn who they are, and fall in love with each other.

(Written for Colloyd Week 2021)

Fandom: Tales of Symphonia Characters: Lloyd Irving, Colette Brunel, Zelos Wilder Relationships: Colette Brunel & Lloyd Irving Rating: G Chapter: 6 of 6 Word Count: 3442 Mirror Link: AO3 Original Post Date: 15/06/2021

Chapter Title: Ace Up Your Sleeve

Chapter Summary: Colette finally comes to the end of a long journey and finds the answer she didn't know she was seeking all along.

(Colloyd Week Day 7: Free Day)

Notes+Warnings: Last chapter of my multi chapter Colloyd week fic! Zelos is also... Demisexual! Warning for mentions of acephobia.

Thank you to anyone who's read all the way through and big thank you to everyone for a great Colloyd week!!!

Chapter list Full fic Previous chapter

~~~

17-years-old

“You haven’t been listening at all, have you?”

"What? Uh, no! You - you were talking about denominators?" Colette snapped to attention, scrambling for an excuse as she was met with Zelos' searching stare. Her friend was sitting across from her, their fingers drumming impatiently against the long table they were seated at in the common area by the bookstore, a dozen other students seated at the other long tables and quietly murmuring amongst themselves.

"You haven't written anything down," Zelos muttered, tapping the open exam paper in front of Colette. What they said was true - there were no new markings in green ink on the paper, only the blue ink that had been scribbled down during the exam and the red crosses left behind by the teacher. "It is a bit annoying to have been talking to a brick wall for the past five minutes, you know."

"Sorry for wasting your time." Colette bowed her head, feeling rather horrible. She was the one who had asked Zelos to help her explain some of the midterm questions that her teacher had skipped over. Zelos was a surprisingly good math teacher when they felt like it, giving calm and comprehensive explanations that seemed distanced from the usual flirty and boisterous Zelos. Not that Colette could tell they were being flirty - it all just came off as normal conversation to her, even though Sheena often complained they were.

Yet she'd gotten distracted.

"It's alright; no hard feelings or anything. What's got your attention so badly, though?" Zelos enquired, raising one eyebrow and beginning to play with the ends of their ponytail.

“Um... That…?” Colette stuttered, waving her arms in the vague direction of Zelos’ school bag. Oh, this was so awkward.

“That…?” Zelos echoed, staring at their school bag with their brow furrowed, before seemingly coming to a realisation as their face cleared. “Oh! What? The frog pin?”

Yes, that was what she'd been staring at for the past ten minutes: the new pin. Next to the familiar enamel pin of a grumpy kitten playing with a ball of yarn that was purple and yellow in colour, was one of a derpy frog sitting on a lilypad. It was cute. (Add frogs to anything and it would be cute. That was a principle she strongly believed in.) But what was confounding her was the peculiar colouration of the lilypad: purple, white and grey.

“Uh… Yeah…” Colette averted her gaze as her fingers jumped from place to place, trying to expel all of her nervous energy - picking at the folded sleeve of her white blouse, fiddling with the school badge pinned over her breast, smoothing out the wrinkles in her green skirt. She hadn't brought up the curiosity eating away at her because she hadn't wanted to force Zelos into a spot where they felt like they had to answer.

Silence reigned for a few seconds as she began to panic. As she’d feared, Zelos didn’t want to talk about it. Oh, what to do? She didn't want to offend them or anything.

“It’s a cute pin! That’s all!” she blurted out, hoping that would give them both an out from this situation.

Zelos let out a loud exhale, placing a hand on their forehead in exasperation. "You could have just asked, you know? I wouldn't have pinned it there if I didn't expect questions. For anyone else, I would just answer that I like the colours. But for you, my trusted friend, I'll tell you the truth. It's the asexual flag colours. I got it from the same place as the cat one; they released a new frog line just last month. Cute, right?”

“Very,” she chirped, relieved that Zelos wasn’t mad. “Frogs are always cute, no matter what they’re doing. But, uh... If you don’t mind me asking another question, what do you mean by asexual?”

She'd heard that word once or twice from Sheena when she was working on her bio homework, but never in the context of people. Surely it was something relating to gender or sexuality, considering the yarn tangled in the kitten's paws was in the non-binary flag colours. She knew that much, even if she wasn't on social media a whole lot.

If she knew more, then she’d better understand her friend! That had always been one of her greatest desires - to learn more about her friends, all of whom were their own unique persons, holding diverse qualities and each facing their own set of challenges. If she didn’t have the necessary information, she couldn’t support them to her best capabilities.

“I can't explain the whole thing right now, but it's basically a spectrum," Zelos replied flippantly, raising a finger. "It means feeling little to no sexual attraction. You know, never looking at anyone and thinking you want to… do it with them.” Zelos cocked their head, gaze slipping towards the ceiling. “Is that a good way to describe it? Hm...”

But their words were washing uselessly over Colette, who had frozen into a statue. Her heart sat unmoving in her chest, her mind both running on overdrive and feeling incredibly sluggish as she struggled to process what she'd just heard. It felt like she was pushing through water, the pressure pressing against her.

"There's a word for that?" she couldn't help but blurt out, eyes wide in shock as her fingers opened and closed uselessly. Time itself seemed to have ground to a halt, her heart unable to decide how she wanted to feel. She was stuck in limbo.

"Well, yes? It's an entire identity - Woah, Angel, you all right?"

Zelos laid a worried hand on her shoulder, just now noticing the wild look on her face.

"There - there's a word for how I feel?" she whispered as she placed her shaking hands in her lap.

Ever since she'd fallen in love, she had lived each day with the question of why she was broken buried in the back of her mind, casting a constant miserable cloud over her. She didn't want to keep waiting for the day where she would want what everyone else did, for she had no hope that day would ever come. But she had thought she had no other choice, her heart shrivelling in her chest every time she was told that everyone was supposed to be attracted to someone.

This was an answer she hadn't known had existed, and had just somehow fallen from the heavens in answer to the prayers she had hesitantly made for something or someone to fix her. But if there was a word that belonged to her, an identity that meant she wasn't broken, she would gladly accept it. She couldn't describe the immense relief she felt, like the invisible shackles chaining her down had finally been unlocked with the key of knowledge.

"Oh. I... I had my suspicions, but I didn't want to assume," Zelos muttered, their expression equally as shocked as hers as they removed their hand. "So... You..."

All along, she'd thought she was alone, the only one in the whole wide world who felt this way. But there were others. Even someone right across from her, a friend who had experienced the same thing the entire time.

She wasn't alone.

It was liberating to know that.

"I... I think so?" The relief had been replaced with an almost dizzying excitement, one that made it hard to speak. Or focus. "Can you tell me more?" she asked eagerly, leaning closer. The fires of curiosity had now reached an all-time high, her need to know overtaking all else. She wanted to know everything.

"Calm down, calm down! I can talk to you about it after school," Zelos replied with a happy chuckle. "Right now, though, you should go back to class. The bell's going to ring soon."

Her gaze snapped to the wall clock, which showed there were only 8 minutes left till her GP period. "Oh, you're right!" Springing to her feet, Colette stuffed her math paper into her school bag, frantic energy unable to leave her body. "But promise you'll tell me more? Please?"

"It's a promise, Angel. I'd be happy to."

Giving Zelos one final wave goodbye, Colette started running up the stairs, a huge grin on her face. She couldn't explain why she was so happy, fireworks exploding in her chest.

Only that the world that had always been against her had finally started to make a tiny bit of sense.

~~~

18-years-old

“Lloyd?” Colette said quietly, setting the plate in her hands down on the study table. She smoothed his wet hair out of his eyes, only for it to fall right back into place.

It was quite late, the digital clock on the study table displaying 07:30 in red, blinking digits. Sheena and Zelos had already quit revising and left at six, saying they were going to get dinner together, but Lloyd had insisted on staying to continue. “Only a month left to As,” he’d muttered, head buried in his A4 notebook full of econs notes and eyes frantic with worry.

“Lloyd?” she said, a little louder this time. But he showed no signs of stirring, eyes still firmly closed, breaths steadily trickling in and out of his nose. They’d migrated to her room after Sheena and Zelos had left, Lloyd using the study table while she took residence on the bay window, having shifted all of her soft toys to the bed. She’d returned from making a sandwich in the kitchen (without tomatoes, of course), to find him slumped over on the desk, his pen on the floor.

Colette sighed. She didn’t have the heart to wake him up now, not when he looked so peaceful, lit by the warm light of the table lamp. He could stay.

She opened the drawer of the study table, gaze landing immediately on the folded up letter that had Lloyd’s name written on the cover. Reaching out to touch the smooth paper, she wondered if today was the day she would finally have the courage to give it to Lloyd.

Over a year had passed since Zelos had introduced the word asexual to her. As promised, they'd gone over the entire concept with her, an activity that had taken hours, until she was utterly certain the identity fit her. Scarily so. It explained all the little moments throughout her life that she'd had no explanation for until now. She'd spent a whole day afterwards just being stupidly euphoric, unable to wipe the large smile off her face, overjoyed that that were so many others like her all around the world, a loving community who shared her experiences and would accept her with open arms.

The euphoria she had felt at that moment had dimmed, of course. But she was still much happier than she ever used to be, now armed with the knowledge that she didn't need to change. She wasn't broken, for there was nothing to fix. This was just who she was, and she no longer had to force herself to act in how society deemed right or feel awful for not being able to do so.

But there was still fear involved. Keeping secrets from Lloyd was just... not in her nature. Every second that she was alone with him was a moment where she wanted to inform him of her life-changing realisation, for while telling him would not change much, it would be authentically living her truth. Even if she never confessed her feelings, she wanted to tell him as a friend, a companion. The words she wanted to say burned on her tongue, but every time she opened her mouth nothing came out, the jitters in her stomach overpowering her will. Zelos was the one who had suggested writing a letter. Easier to express in text everything she wanted to in one go without all the stutters and awkward pauses that would no doubt come from a face-to-face encounter.

Picking the letter up, she slowly slid it under Lloyd’s open right hand, praying that he didn’t wake up right at this moment and heaving a sigh of relief when he didn’t. She was staking everything on him heeding the first line she’d written, almost a month ago, pouring her heart out onto paper with shaking hands. Please, read this to the end. And at the end of it, she prayed that he’d still be willing to talk to her.

She had read countless horror stories. People who refused to believe asexuality existed. People who argued that no one could know they were asexual until they’d had a sexual experience, who then turned around and argued in the same breath that those who’d had sexual experiences couldn’t possibly be asexual. People who continued to claim that asexuals just hadn’t met the right person because sex was what made us human and people who didn’t feel sexual attraction must be cold, unfeeling monsters with standards that were way too high. People who stared at you with pity and tried to comfort you for “missing out”. People who told you they could "fix" you.

Lloyd was the most accepting person she knew, and she didn't believe he could ever be that way. Still, there was no guarantee how this would end. At least she had the advantage of being in the safety of her own home. She could kick him out if she needed to, even if cutting him out of her life would be akin to ripping her own heart out. But better to rip the bandaid off now than let the secret lurk in her heart.

Straightening up, she shut off the table lamp to give Lloyd some peace. She made her quick retreat out of the room, heading to the kitchen and placing the sandwich into the fridge. Lloyd did so love his sandwiches cold.

The only thing left to do was wait.

There was no sound filling the living room but the ticking coming from the analogue clock hanging on the wall that Dad still refused to replace, even after twenty years. It was always in need of a change of batteries or a tuning.

Adjusting her position so her head was pillowed on one of the many cushions, her eyelids unwittingly shut. She hadn’t noticed how heavy they’d felt until now, when she had nothing to do. After a whole day spent splitting her head over chemistry mechanisms, sinking into the soft leather without any chemical equations to squint at felt like heaven. Maybe she deserved a little rest.

Just a little…

~~~

“Colette.”

She groaned, rolling onto her side away from the voice’s origin and throwing her arm over her face.

Who…? Where…?

“Colette!”

The voice was a little more insistent this time, a hand gently shaking her by the shoulders.

Knowing she had to wake up now, Colette opened her eyes, staring with blurred vision at the cream couch cushions. Craning her neck, she spotted a blob of peach and brown hovering over her that eventually solidified into Lloyd’s face.

“Lloyd…?”

“Hey.” Lloyd moved his hand to her back to steady her as she slowly sat up, rubbing at her eyes. He took a seat next to her, their shoulders pressed together. “Sorry to wake you up, but I need to tell you I’m going home soon.”

“Oh! That’s good...” Colette mumbled groggily, having still not fully come to her senses. She couldn’t quite recall what had occurred between studying and falling asleep here. She could remember that Lloyd was supposed to go home.

There was something else, wasn’t there…?

“I guess we’re both tired. If you were going to sleep you should have just done it on the bed, silly,” Lloyd admonished her, poking her arm. “Too late for that. At least you had the good sense to sleep on your back. Mine hurts.” He threw his arms over the back of the sofa, stretching his back, joints popping.

“Ah, right. Sorry for not waking you up sooner… It’s just… You looked like you were having a nice nap.”

“No, it’s alright,” Lloyd placed his hand over hers, interlocking their fingers and squeezing. “I did enjoy it. I needed the break. And thank you for the sandwich. It was delicious"

"No problem." She yawned, giving her own long stretch.

“Anyway… The other reason I woke you up was to tell you I read your letter.”

Lloyd held up a familiar sheet of paper, the crease where it had once been folded in half clearly visible. Her stomach sank immediately into a pit of dread as she bowed her head, her free hand curling into a fist.

There it was. That was what she was forgetting. But she’d made the choice to go forward, and there was no backing down now.

However, now that the moment of reckoning was here, only the worst-case scenarios were running through her head. She was ready to pull away and run, pulse skyrocketing.

“Hey! Hey. Don’t panic.” Lloyd’s thumb started drawing tiny circles on her palm, a motion so familiar to her that she instinctively started taking deep breaths to calm herself down. It was like he'd predicted she was going to bolt like a frightened rabbit. “The first thing I wanted to say was thank you for telling me something so important to you. I know how scary it is. Remember when it was my turn?”

“You…? You weren’t scared at all!” Colette protested, raising her head and meeting Lloyd’s gaze. The light tone to his voice was reassuring, as was the smile on his face. No condemnation to be found there, just a sweet happiness that warmed her own heart. “You figured it out so quickly and just blurted it right out!”

“I was petrified, trust me, even if it I didn't show. I don’t even know what possessed me to say it in the first place! But remember what you said to me, back then?”

“I like... boys too. Both girls and boys, you know?”

The whisper rang out in the silence, Lloyd facing away from her as she looked up from the comic she’d been reading, the two of them curled up together in the safe darkness of the tiny pillow fort they’d constructed in the living room.

“Okay,” she answered after a pause. “Uh… Well…”

She didn’t quite know how to put her thoughts into words.

“Who you like doesn’t change who you are!” she declared with gusto. That sounded cool. Right? But it was true. Lloyd would always be Lloyd. Silly, awkward, kind Lloyd.

In her eyes, there was no other possibility.

Colette still strongly believed that. She always would. But she had never thought those words would apply to her, a girl who stood by the sidelines looking in on a world she couldn’t understand.

“Those words meant the world to me, you know. And it's the same for you; I’d be a hypocrite for saying otherwise. You’re still the same person, Colette. Nothing’s changed. And although I can never see the world through your eyes, what I can do is listen to you. And that’s exactly what I plan to do.”

Colette sniffled, shoulders shaking as tears pooled in her eyes. She had thought she could get through this without breaking into tears, that she could sit and calmly accept whatever news she would receive. Clearly, that was not the case.

But it wasn't weak to cry.

Lloyd’s arms wrapped around her, a comforting embrace that she never wanted to leave.

“There’s nothing wrong with you,” Lloyd whispered into her ear, pulling her closer. “You’re just you.”

With shaking arms, she returned the embrace, burying her face in his shoulder as the tears overflowed. This time not out of overwhelming fear like she had on the rooftop, but out of incredible, crushing relief, the last of the weight leaving her shoulders, leaving her so free it was terrifying.

“And I’ll keep telling you that, as many times as you need to hear it. Just like you did for me.”

She already knew that all of the things he said were true - they were sentiments Zelos had already expressed, that she had already read on internet forums. But she'd underestimated how it would feel to find acceptance in someone who she loved with all her heart, and who viewed the world through a completely different lens.

To know that one was accepted, for every part of them… Wasn’t that the most beautiful thing?

“Thank you,” she choked out amid all the tears.

And for the first time in a truly long while, Colette thought that everything would be alright.

[lloydskywalkers]

glass walls and waterfalls

Listen sometimes you just have to write shameless, sappy romantic fluff, and no one’s better deserving of it than @speedythecat and her wonderful OC Rain so! Here we go. I’ve been wanting to write something about Rain for a while because she’s a really cool character - if you don’t know who she is hit up Speedy’s tag here (which you should do anyways) but long story short she’s the elemental master of glass, Lloyd’s girlfriend, and a dork in this fic :’D

“You’re supposed to fold the left part, first.”

Lloyd gives a muffled groan, unfolding the delicate paper in his hands once again. “Right. So it’s gonna be a deranged mutant swan, then.”

Rain stifles a giggle, reaching down to grab the paper from Lloyd’s hands. She has to strain a bit, as Lloyd’s lying in her lap right now - which is a comfortable position, but perhaps not the best for teaching someone to properly fold an origami swan.

“Here,” she says, gently taking the paper from him. “You just have to be patient with it.”

She presses the paper against his shoulder, smoothing out the creases before handing it back to him. “There. Start with the left fold, this time.”

“Should’ve been the elemental master of paper,” he mutters. “Could give people paper cuts all the time, annoy them to death…”

Rain just smiles, looking up at the horizon. The cliff they’ve flown to just overlooks the ocean, so the sweeping coastal winds blow wildly around them, rustling through their gis and tangling Rain’s white hair in a billowing cloud behind her back. The sun is on its way down, late in the afternoon as it is, and casts the ocean beneath them in a deep blue-ish purple, like the glassy scales on her dragon at dusk.

Rain closes her eyes, letting the warmth of the sun wash over her, her fingers resting in absently in Lloyd’s hair, his own warmth a comfort where he lies half-sprawled with his head in her lap. She twirls the end of a blond strand in her fingers lazily, letting the tension of the past few weeks ease from her shoulders. They’ve been…well. The past few weeks haven’t been the nicest. That goes, perhaps, as the greatest understatement of the century, but Rain doesn’t like thinking about it that much. Doesn’t like the reminder of how it felt to lose, and to lose so much. How defeated they were, how hollow Lloyd’s eyes looked, the shake of his shoulders the rare night he’d let himself break down, the suffocating fear as she was dragged away to the prison, useless at saving herself as she’d been her brother-

Rain swallows, her fingers tightening briefly. Let the past slide off you, she reminds herself. The teachings of her old Sensei. She can keep them alive, even if the man she learned from is lost to her.

(Lost to them all, now.)

Rain’s never been very good at that particular lesson. Her past seems to seep into her powers in the worst of ways, as much as she tries to fight it. It’s tied to her being, she supposes, the way Lloyd’s seems to be tied to his. Letting go the past is a lesson neither of them ever really learned right.

“Okay,” Lloyd’s voice interrupts her thoughts, pulling her back to the windy cliff. She opens her eyes again, blinking briefly at the brightness. “What was the last part, again?”

“Two more of the edge folds,” Rain says, reaching down to tug Lloyd’s hand a little to the left. “Like this.”

“M’kay.” Lloyd’s expression furrows in concentration. Rain tries not to laugh at the determined look on his face, not unlike the expression he wears when sparring with her in training.

“There. Ta-da.” Lloyd finally hands her a slightly-crumpled swan, grinning a bit. “For you. Your own mutant origami swan.”

“I love it,” Rain laughs lightly, taking the swan and gently tucking in inside the folds of her gi, sheltering it from the winds. “Much better than flowers.”

Lloyd flushes. “I tried to make one, but there’s so many folds, you saw the monstrosity I ended up with-“

“I’m kidding,” Rain giggles, leaning down and bumping his nose. Lloyd wrinkles his nose, then grins back up at her.

“I’ll just make you 9,999 more swans then,” he says. “Then you’ll have a million, so you can make a wish for actual flowers.”

“I think that’s just a thousand cranes, but I appreciate your devotion,” Rain grins.

“It’s origami cranes?” Lloyd frowns. “Aw man, I wasted all that time on a swan, too.”

“And you’d need 999,999 more to make a million, by the way,” she whispers teasingly. Lloyd’s forehead scrunches up, counting the numbers in his head.

“Oh yeah,” he finally mutters. “Math.”

“Yeah, that useless stuff."

Lloyd snickers quietly, tilting his head back a bit and staring at the sunset-orange sky. Rain falls into quiet, looking up where the sun glows a fiery red over the horizon. White strands of hair fall loose over her face, beating with the wind.

She finally sighs, brushing the hair away and blinking spots from her eyes left by the blinding intensity of the sun. She returns her attention to another snarl in Lloyd’s hair, fingers gently carding through the tangled blond curls, dyed gold in the setting sun.

“You should brush your hair sometime.”

“I’m not Kai, I don’t carry a hairbrush in my gi.”

“Well, you should,” Rain says. “Your hair looks nice when it’s not all tangled and messy.”

Lloyd’s cheeks flush, tinged a dark pink, and Rain feels her mouth pull in amusement. “I’ll…consider it,” he says.

Rain shakes her head, eyes flicking briefly skyward. She pushes her own billowing hair behind her ears again, her fingers lingering briefly over a lock. She’s always liked her hair, its unusual color reminding her of puffy clouds, or the first snowfall of the season.

Harumi had no business sporting hair the same color.  

Lloyd reaches up, catching her loose hair in his hand, the silky strands a snowy white against his tanned skin as they slip through his fingers. “I like yours better,” he says, quietly.

“Stop reading my mind.”

“It’s part of my psychic powers,” he says. “The psychic powers of love.”

Rain flicks him on the forehead. “You’re hopeless,” she huffs, as Lloyd makes a face.

“Here,” Lloyd says, flicking her own forehead. “You’ve got a bug there, and wait — there’s one here too, lemme get that-“

“Stop, Lloyd-“ Rain giggles, pulling back from his merciless poking. “I know I don’t have - stop!”

Lloyd dissolves into snickers, and she jabs him in the side, immediately turning his snickering into a high-pitched giggle. “No, Rain, stoppit, that’s low-“

Lloyd’s phone suddenly vibrates, catching them both off guard. Lloyd sighs, pulling his phone out and glancing at it. His laughter dies quickly. Rain goes quiet, watching the way his jaw goes tight, the light in his eyes sputtering out.

“Is everything alright?” she voices, concerned.

Lloyd tucks his phone back in his gi, blowing his breath out. “S’fine,” he says, the waver in his voice letting her know it’s clearly not. “The high security cell’s ready, so they’re moving him. Um, Garmadon.”

“Oh,” Rain says, quietly. She runs her hand through his hair again, hoping it’s more of a comforting gesture this time.

“It’s just — he’s—“ Lloyd’s breath hitches, and his eyes close tightly. Rain bites her lip, and lets her other hand drift an inch lower on his chest, just to the left, so she can feel the steady pulse of his heart. Her hand rests there for a beat, as if she can protect it — as if she can fix what’s broken.

Rain’s never been very good at that, unfortunately. She tends to be better at breaking things.

“Do you think you’ll ever be able to make peace with him?” Rain finally asks, softly.

Lloyd looks up at the darkening, dusky sky, blinking slowly. He echoes her, his voice tinged in a hollow sort of despair. “Do you think you’ll ever make peace with your brother?”

Rain stiffens briefly, before her shoulders slump. “Touché,” she murmurs.

Lloyd’s hand reaches up, finding hers where it rests against his shoulder. He squeezes tightly, and she returns it. She lifts her head back up, staring at the sun where it’s started to sink below the horizon. Her heart feels as if it’s sinking along with it, and she shuts her eyes, wishing she could recapture the carefree feeling from earlier, the quiet happiness.

“Hey.”

Rain feels a warm hand cup her cheek, shaking her head lightly when she doesn’t immediately open her eyes. “Rain, hey.”

She finally exhales, opening her eyes in fond exasperation. “What?”

“Your eyes look really pretty right now,” Lloyd says, earnestly. Rain feels her cheeks heat. “They look like sea glass,” he continues, with a grin. “You get it? Sea glass, ‘cause you’re-“

Rain groans, dipping her head down so her hair falls in his face, cutting Lloyd’s bad joke off with a sputtering.

“Gross, Rain, your hair tastes awful-“

“I thought you said you liked the way it smells.”

“Smells, yeah, but shampoo tastes awful.”

“Speaking from experience?” Rain rolls her eyes, but she tucks her hair back behind her ear, leaving the ends to just dangle in reach of Lloyd.

It’s nice having her hair played with, alright? It’s pleasant, like the taste of spearmint tea in the evenings, or the feel of ocean-worn seashells washed up on the coast beneath her fingers.

She pulls her hand through Lloyd’s thick hair again, her fingers sliding through the soft strands easily this time. Lloyd hums in contentment, his eyes fluttering closed. Rain watches as the space between his eyebrows smooths out, harsh lines relaxing, leaving him looking younger, like he used to before all — this.

She’s grown up since then too, Rain reminds herself.

Lloyd’s hand reaches up to rest against her cheek again, his thumb briefly following the path of her freckles. Rain returns the gesture, her own fingers gently tracing the healing edge of a cut on his cheek.

“Love you,” Lloyd murmurs.

“Love you back,” Rain returns, smiling slightly.

The sun finally dips completely behind the horizon, and Rain watches Lloyd’s eyes grow darker with the sky, the bright scarlet turning a deep red.

Both their phones vibrate this time, and Lloyd groans. “How much you wanna bet that’s our come-home call.”

“Nothing,” Rain says, glancing at her phone. “Because I know it is.”

“Hooray,” Lloyd says, flatly. He sighs, then finally pushes himself up, shaking his head as he stands up. Rain briefly laments the loss of warmth.

“You ready?” he says, reaching a hand down to her. Rain grabs it, pulling herself up and nodding.

“Yeah,” she says, grimacing briefly as she stretches. “Want to take the detour through the coves?”

Lloyd grins, already heading toward the cliff edge. “Kai can wait twenty more minutes, I guess.” He gives her a jaunty salute, before stepping straight off the edge, letting himself drop. “Race you there-!”

Rain shakes her head, fighting back a smile as she runs, jumping from the cliff after him. She lets herself fall for a beat, the wind rushing past her as the ocean grows closer. There’s a bright flash of green below her, and Lloyd’s dragon materializes just before he hits the sea, pulling up with a roar and a beat of wings. Rain is soon to follow, her own dragon erupting beneath her in a burst of multi-colored glass, glimmering in kaleidoscope colors under the rising light of the moon.

Her dragon shoots up, wings pulsing in a steady beat as Rain lets her hair fly freely behind her, and she glances up at the star-studded sky. She takes a deep breath, letting the salt-tinged night air flood her senses, before turning her attention back to the glow of green racing ahead of her.

Perhaps, Rain thinks — as her dragon ducks down by the sea, racing after him — sea glass isn’t such a terrible comparison after all. Broken but still worthwhile, beaten by the relentless waves of the sea but emerging as something stronger, something more beautiful. Something with softer edges, that doesn’t cut what it touches.

Maybe she’ll try her hand at creating some when they get back to the monastery, Rain thinks, running her fingers briefly over the paper edges of the origami swan. It’s been a while since she’s used her powers for something soft.