#and probably makes me rethink of whatever i did draw and how it can be taken completely serious by some....... individuals

[can-of-slorgs]

are you the one with the nt series where sloth is all buff and hanging out with the user's twinky oc? there was something also about sloth turning into a snowbunny? was that you or another guy?

do you know what i'm talking about if it isn't you... because if not this is embarrassing...

Anon I have no idea what you're talking about.

I haven't publish (nor read for that matter) anything NT related in maybe a decade.

Now, that said... The what comic about dr sloth's twink??

[mangoshorthand]

Before A Fall [Five Hargreeves x F Reader]. Ch 6 (Hard Feelings Part 2)

SUMMARY: As your life begins to grow around Five's, his attitude becomes a little sinister. When does protection become suffocation and when does taking matters into your own hands become betrayal? (weekly updates) Series masterpost Chapter One - Chapter Two - Chapter Three - Chapter Four - Chapter Five - Chapter Six - Chapter Seven - Chapter Eight - Chapter Nine - Chapter Ten - Chapter Eleven - Chapter Twelve

You're not the only person Five dismisses. It's high time you teamed up with his brother.

Fighting corporate crime with Klaus below. Proceed at your own risk

Chapter 6: Heist Sorta Gals

He only let Sarah run from him when they were both out of the building. He apologized profusely in the elevator on the way down but it hadn't seemed to register. Her white face and frightened eyes kept recurring to him on the way home.

Poor kid. It was harsh, but necessary. 

When the door creaks closed behind him, he’s surprised to find Klaus sitting alone in the corner of the entrance hall. He’s cross-legged, resting a slightly-tilted beer on his knee and smoking a cigarette languidly. 

“Hey little bro. How did it go?”

Five produces a pen-drive from his jean pockets and indicates a paper file under his arm.

“I found pretty much what I expected. Just got to do some more digging and then I blow the whistle.”

“Cool.”

“Santi asleep?”

“Yeah. Little guy was bushed.” 

Klaus seems odd to Five. Thoughtful. There’s none of the usual glint in his eye.

“I’m going to update the family later on. I think I’m going to need the team. Will you be here?”

“Sure.”

He strolls as if towards the living room but, sensing it’s empty, turns back to Klaus.

“Where is she?”

“Probably packing.”

Five feels like his heart has dropped into his stomach. Surely not? You hadn’t been pleased, but…

“What do you mean?”

“Just messing with you. She’s working out.”

Five shrugs out of the flannel shirt and holds it over his arm. Something about the timbre of Klaus’s voice lets him know that this was more than a joke, and he resents the implication behind it. He regards his brother with narrowed eyes. 

"You got something to say to me, Klaus?”

Klaus meets his gaze and holds it. Five shifts his eyes first. This, it seems, prompts Klaus to laugh.

“You really fucked up there, man.”

“Really?” Five says, firing up at once, “Wow- I'm so glad you told me. I spent the whole day thinking 'Gee, I wonder what Klaus thinks about all this?'"

“Kinda hard not to give a shit when I have her crying in the living room over how shitty you treat her. She's my friend and you're my brother.”

Five steps towards him, hands going into his pockets and his jaw setting.

“If she’s upset, then she can come to me.”

“Well didn't she try that? After your little ‘heart-to-heart’ with Santi. When you told him her and everyone who isn’t like us is 'insignificant’”

Klaus takes a heavy drag on his cigarette.

“Great job there, by the way.”

“I never said that. Nobody’s insignificant.”

“Whatever you said, it made her feel this tall”, he holds his thumb and forefinger within an inch of one another, “and then today too?”

“She knows how I feel. I’m protecting her.”

Five steps forward, his neck jerking as he speaks. Always a sign of danger.

“Exactly! She doesn’t want to just be protected, maybe she wants to be treated like an equal!"

He breathes hard through his nose, "Just stay out of this."

Klaus, now angry in a way uncommon to him, draws himself up. Sometimes, the truth hurts.

"If you can't take her seriously, maybe you gotta rethink the 'ethics' of sniffing her panties. She is young enough to be your daughter."

Five blinks to within an inch of Klaus, grabbing him by the collar and dashing him off the chair. Klaus gives a small yell of pain as the tiled floor makes contact with his shoulder. 

“Ow! What the fuck, Five?” he says, cradling his shoulder and shaking off the beer now soaking through his pant leg. 

Five stands over him, breathing like a bull, then pivots a little, staring at the wall to his right rather than continue to look at Klaus.

“Listen, you useless shitheel, I'm not taking relationship advice from you." he stalks off towards the attic stairs.

"Oh yeah? Don't want to take advice from someone who knows what it’s like to lose someone?" 

Five pretends not to hear Klaus as he calls after him.

"At least with Dave it wasn’t my fault!” 

On the landing between the second and third flights of stairs, Five leans against the wall and covers his face with both hands until his rage subsides. He doesn’t have time for this. What’s he supposed to do? Give you something insignificant just to keep you busy? He’ll deal with you later.

After beating the punch bag to exhaustion, (imagining that it was his smug face), you arrive back in the bedroom post-shower, wrapped in a towel. Five holds a coffee and writes incomprehensibly on the dry-erase. He nods when you walk in but otherwise makes no acknowledgment.

You sit on the bed, towel-drying your hair. Usually, being in any state of undress earns you at least an appreciative glance. Not today, however: his eyes stay glued resolutely to the dry erase, muttering the odd word like: “pharmacokinesis”, “bioavailability” or simply, “fuck.”

You’ve seen him this way before. When an idea consumes him, his first instinct is to break it down to its component parts and analyze it into submission. It intensifies all his usual mannerisms and expressions. You usually find it endearing, even attractive, but today it’s nothing but irritating.

“Well?” you say, expectantly.

“Well what?” he says, maintaining calm only through the medium of  clenched teeth. 

You blink incredulously, affronted.

“Are you going to apologize for how you spoke to me today?”

He lets out a slow, angry breath.

“Is this really the time?”

“Then when is the time?”

“I don’t know, dear, maybe when there aren’t second graders being poisoned.”

“Asshole.”

“Yeah, yeah.” he murmurs.

You fall into tense silence. After a minute or two of intense calculations, he speaks again.

"I got another family meeting in ten minutes."

“I take it I'm not invited?"

He doesn't respond, pen squeaking a little in contact with the wall.

"So you’re not going to keep me informed at all then?”

He stops writing, places the lid on the pen and walks slowly to put it away in a drawer. With his back turned to you, he lets out a controlled, drawn-out exhale, as if he’s steeling himself to deal with you. Then, he sits down at the desk, rests his forearms on the tabletop and turns to look at you; his face is spread with what you’ve come to recognise as his ‘customer service’ smile. When he talks, it's like he's addressing a particularly challenging nine-year-old.

“Sure. I got ten minutes.” 

His smile broadens, showing more teeth but not quite reaching his eyes.

“There is something bad in the soda,” he continues, “I am going to find out what and try to stop more kids getting cancer, so if we could delay our little ‘conflict’ until a more opportune time, I’d be grateful.”

For the moment, you dismiss his shitty tone just for the chance of more information.

“So what’s the next stage?”

“That’s what my brothers will help me decide. You’re going to have to forgive me if I don’t consult you on this.”

You scoff. Really? 

“Oh yeah, don’t consult me, I’m just your girlfriend. I’m only here for recreational purposes, right?”

Five returns his eyes unseeingly to his latest lines of calculation. Easier to look at them than you right now.

“There’s no point in talking to you when you’re like this.”

In sheer frustration, you tear off your towel and throw it in his direction. 

“Then get out Five! Fuck off downstairs and have your super-exclusive family soiree. Because fuck me, right?”

He gives a short disdainful laugh, getting up from the desk and grabbing his coffee mug.

“You said it, dear, not me,” as he strolls to the door, he mumbles, “thrown out of my own bedroom. Gee, I’ve reached a new low.”

He shuts the door behind him a little harder than necessary.

“So,” he points at a graph tacked onto the old blackboard dragged from their old education suite, “this is the suspicious compound, the one Sarah thought was probably a mutagen. It was only present in the soda can from Santi’s school,”

“So they’re using the kids as…lab rats?”

“Yeah. I think that’s what it suggests. Free test subjects under the guise of a ‘pilot scheme’ investing in education."

Luther looks grave.

“It would explain the newspapers,” says Viktor, “They’re trying to discredit you so anything you come out with won’t be believed.”

“Yeah. That’s why I think we’ll have to play PR on this one. When the time comes.”

“A press conference maybe?” suggests Sloane.

“Oh I think it’s worse than that,” he responds, regretfully, “we need to show that all the ‘verified’ members of the Academy trust me. I think we may have to go full uniform.”

Klaus changes the subject, “You know me right, you know I’m no fan of big business, but are you telling me there’s some evil genius sitting in a corner office somewhere cackling to himself about giving kids brain cancer?”

“Maybe? But I lean towards it being an unintended consequence.”

“Am I right in thinking a mutagen is something that alters DNA? Like radioactive? Radon?”, Viktor asks.

“Exactly. But not all mutagens are radioactive.”

“So they’re trying to change the kids in some way? What could they want to change?”

Five frowns. “It makes me think about Dad. If he could farm powered kids then he would have done it, regardless of how many got cancer.”

They all seem to accept this. Had they not been 'farmed' themselves?

“But would a company want to 'improve' children?” Viktor asks.

“Unless it’s a front? Maybe it is some madman like Dad trying to build his own child militia. That’s why we’ve got to get in there.”

“So we need to plan a heist into their head office…or development labs?”

Five turns to Luther, “The head office first. There’s got to be a smoking gun somewhere. Internal memos, encrypted files?”

“Diego and Lila won’t be happy to be left out of this,” tries Viktor, “do you think we ought to tell them?”

Five considers.

 “I know for sure that Santi himself is OK. So, for now, let’s keep them out of it. Let them enjoy their honeymoon. I think they’re too close to it anyway. We need to approach this with clear heads.”

“I agree,” says Luther, “Let's get planning. I’m happy to move quick on this if the rest of you guys are?”

Klaus stands, replacing the wide-brimmed hat on his head. “You guys knock yourselves out. I’m going to take a bath. I’m not exactly a ‘heist’ sorta gal. Hit me up if you really need me but otherwise I’m going to sit this one out”

“I won’t object to that.” says Five, coolly, clearly having not forgiven him for his earlier challenge.

You’ve been sitting on the bed crying again. You’re sitting here, in the bedroom you share with the man you love, knowing that he doesn’t love you like a partner should. He thinks you’re a liability. You’ve only lived with him for a few months but already your life has grown around his. Just like ivy growing around a tree; the tree doesn't reciprocate. Eventually the tears dried up and now you just sit.

You couldn’t face going back to your shitty little apartment after Monroe almost beat you to death. The idea of seeing your dining chairs, the threadbare carpet probably still stained with your blood…it was too much. The Academy had been your refuge, the place you’d started to function again. His training had given you part of your confidence back, and his love had rebuilt part of your feeling of security

Up until now, you’d thrived here, but dawning is acute awareness of what you’ve lost. When all is said and done, this is still Five’s space. 

Yes, your possessions are scattered around you. Yes, he has given up half his storage to your clothing and yes, you do feel at home, but the idea that your only home is now under his…stewardship has only just occurred to you. Having this sort of reliance on someone who seems to see you as serving an auxiliary purpose to his real life is not a tenable position.

Just as you start to seriously consider calling Ellie, confessing all your fears and asking if you can stay for a few days, there’s a knock on the bedroom door. It’s too early to be Five and he wouldn't dream of knocking.

“Come in.”

Klaus walks over the threshold with two beers. His eyes are alight. He looks like all his birthdays just came at once.

“Hey.” He sits at Five’s desk, swinging his legs up onto the desk at an extremely high angle- almost vertical. He prises off the beer caps on the edge of the desk and passes you one, taking a swig of his own.

“I want you to picture the scene.” he holds up a tattooed palm, "You. Me. Saving kids from evil corporations and stickin’ it to Cinco in the process. What do you say?”

You take your own sip of beer. It certainly sounds intriguing and you’re for certain angry enough to really want to stick it to Five. You look at Klaus with interest, eyes prompting him to continue.

“So there’s a mystery ingredient in JUICED, right? Some freaky compound that they’ve put in the drinks from the school but weren’t in one from the store. Five proved it with his little science experiment - y'know, the one he could have done so much easier if he’d just asked you. But no he’d rather traumatize some poor PhD student.”

He leans towards you slightly, almost overbalancing, but steadies himself on the chair.

“Now, Five thinks it’s some creepy ‘chemical x’ thing that they’ve put in to make super-children, but in some kids it’s causing cancer because it’s mutating their…DNA or some shit.” 

He makes a gross alien-noise, presumably to denote mutation. It pulls a smile from you.

“So he’s downstairs,” Klaus continues, “and he’s all 'Ugggh let’s go break some heads and hack servers and blaaah'. But then I thought: why don’t we just…ask someone? Aaand who’s worked for the man long enough to know how and who? You, you little corporate slave you.”

He leans towards you and boops you on the nose.

You’re starting to get the picture.

“Not everything has to be some mega time-travel super heist.” he says, “Wanna work with me?”

His mischievous, coaxing smile broadens and wrinkles his nose. It's irresistible.

“Abso-fucking-lutely”

“Yay!!” 

Klaus swings his legs down, leaps from the chair, onto the bed and gives you a hug.

“We are going to NAIL this.”

“You’re totally right about this.” you say.

Still in his arms, you pause for a second to adjust your ideas. His words are churning around your mind. The more you think of them, the more it makes sense. Why didn’t you think of it?

“The way he’s going about this won’t work.” you say, slowly, “When corporate crime gets exposed it’s by whistleblowing, not by smash and grab.”

“Exactly-”

“And it’s nearly always disgruntled employees. They’ve got the access and the knowhow to leak the right documents.”

“Uh-huh.”

“…and in the world of brands, there’s back-stabbing, ladder-climbing… Klaus, I’m pretty sure we could isolate some likely assets with an hour of research." 

“Me and you, a couple of cans of White Claw, researching the shit out of things! I’m already pumped. I’ll get my computer, you get more booze!”

You sit top to toe on the bed, drinking the rest of the beer with the cans of White Claw Klaus suggested ready to go.

“So,” you begin, tapping away at the keyboard, "best place for disgruntled employees: Glassdoor.”

“What’s that?”

“A site to review employers. I’m on JUICED’s page now and there are hundreds, which is great. If we start filtering by 1-2 stars and then see where we end up." 

You share the URL as well as that of a live-edit document. 

Klaus leans towards his screen with a giggle, “Well Christ on a cracker; look at all these. Do the companies know which employees give them one star? They gotta hate that!”

“Yeah. That’s one of the problems with it: it’s anonymous but you need to enter your job title and other situational stuff can make it clear who’s who. That works in our favor, but it does mean that only ex-employees can go scorched earth.”

“Oh I love reading scorched earth reviews! But…little problem: if they’re an ex-employee then how do they get access to files?”

“Their network. There’s a good chance they’ll still be friendly with someone on the inside.”

"Ooh, subterfuge…”

“Plus, we don’t just have to deal with ex-employees.  The current employees might rate high because they’re scared of what the boss will say, but then they’ll use euphemisms to explain what it’s really like. They’ll say it’s ‘like a family’ when they mean that you have absolutely no work/life balance.”

“So we’re looking for spicy bitches and passive aggressive bitches?”

“You got it. Then once we’ve got a list of likely reviews, it’s just about identifying them. Cross-reference job titles and start and end dates with LinkedIn, and then we’ve got a list of names we can rate from most to least likely.”

“Look at you, you little LinkedIn Nancy Drew!”

“This is my world, baby. Keeping up with corporate bullshit.”

Over the course of the evening, you work together to develop a list of links to promising reviews and manage to identify six LinkedIn matches to go with them. 

"Ooh, this looks spicy!" Klaus turns his screen to allow you to read, "We got a mention of elementary schools too."

He shows you a recent glassdoor review from a former Business Development Manager.  They rated JUICED one out of five stars after working there for over 5 years. The headline reads:

'Absolutely no loyalty to long term employees'. 

I was overworked and under-valued. It was a cliquey, totally untransparent rumor-mill. Lost out on promotion to a less experienced coworker with a worse track record. Was made to spend way too much time reaching out to elementary schools to sponsor rather than pursuing actual paying leads and then blamed when my team underperformed according to totally unfair metrics. Completely unethical work culture based around guilting you for not working all the hours god sends. Apparently it's important to be a 'team player' but don't expect them to be on your team if shit hits the fan.

You look back up at Klaus and laugh, "Wow, tell us how you really feel.”

After a bit of searching on LinkedIn, you find a matching profile: “Harvey Klein,” you read, “And look at this! The review's recent because he only left three months ago. And he’s taken a massive hit; he’s two or three job rungs lower.”

“So somebody might be looking for…revenge.”

 Klaus waggles his eyebrows.

When Five comes to bed, long after Klaus left, you pretend to be asleep already.

You feel him brush a lock of hair off your face and give a sad sigh. When he gets in beside you, you roll and face away from him, still feigning sleep.

He presses his face against your shoulder and inhales, cupping your body with his. His arms wrap around you and he holds you to him. After a few minutes, when he’s sure you’re in deep sleep again, he whispers:

“It has to be like this...but I love you. I really do."

Tag list: (please comment to be added or removed.) @dilfjohhny , @sunsunhe, @w4stedtr4sh, @nevbrooke-555, @theredvelvetbitch, @td-miley01 Alternatively, join me on AO3.  Here is a link to the whole series

[jelzorz]

For the writing meme please:

Viren gets up. Opeli’s hand tightens around the handle of her dagger, but she does not draw it. Viren doesn't even touch the bars. “Why are you all trying so hard to keep me alive?” he asks. “You’ve made it clear I'm not welcome here, just let me die.”

Opeli scoffs at him. “The only ones who don't want you dead are your children,” she says. “I don't care what you do. I advocated for you for Soren, but whether you live or die at this point is not my concern. But know this, Viren, if you hurt him again, I will personally make sure you are kept here, fed and watered enough to stay alive with guard to make sure you will never find relief. Your children will grow and they will live their lives, and you will never trouble them again because you will never leave here. And when you do die, old and forgotten, your body will rot here. No rites. No burial. Whatever’s left of your soul can wander around for rest that will never come.”

He stares at her. Then he laughs a hollow, dead sounding laugh. “You know I have never believed in such things.”

“And yet, here you are,” sneers Opeli, “begging for Mercy in the form of Death that Justice will not let you have. How much longer would you like to tempt her? What was it that Claudia said?” She hums, feigning the thought process. “There were certain conditions that were met to make your resurrection spell permanent. How permanent do you think it meant? Shall we leave you here and find out?”

Viren holds her stare, defiant, but Opeli can see the flicker of doubt in his eyes.

“It's been eight years since Aaravos was defeated, Viren,” she says. “Eight years since Soren ran you through with a sword. How many times have you tried to end it? How many times have you failed?”

He looks away, his brow furrowed, counting the attempts, the failures, rethinking the events of his resurrection. Then his face shifts, eyes wide in horrified realisation.

Opeli smirks. “Take the kindness that is offered to you, Viren. There are worse fates than a trial. Don't make this harder for Soren than it already is.”

She turns to leave, heaving the door open with an echoing creak when Viren calls after her.

“It's his, isn't it?” he asks. “The child.”

Opeli shuts the door behind her without a response.

B L E S S Y O U @lunamoon1313

A quick disclaimer: I wrote this on night shift so I can't tell you exactly what was on my mind as I wrote it bc. I don't remember and I was very sleep deprived lmao BUT I can tell you what I intended based on how I read it now, which was, probably, ~dramaaaaa~

One of the biggest selling points of the crack quartet is how fucking Messy it gets for everyone involved. I did fully intend for Viren to dead but the idea of Soren having to deal with him while being married to Opeli was just too good for me to pass up. This entire scene is built around two things:

1) Opeli being stubborn as Fuck

2) Viren figuring everything out

Once again, most of the snake was written on night shift so I don't actually know if it was obvious that Viren had picked up on the hints. I remember going "Is this a reasonable leap he could make?" And then immediately going "🤷🏽‍♀️" and doing it anyway, but I tried, in previous scenes, to draw attention to the fact that he noticed Soren's wedding band, the little looks that passed between him and Opeli when they went down there together, and the fact that she's threatening him over Soren but not Claudia, and not even the rest of the kids. Her priority has and should have been Ezran, but instead she's demanding he play nice for Soren? Oh???

So he puts the pieces together which Opeli does not confirm but he'll bring it up with Soren later, just subtly, and Soren will go "How the Fuck do you Know" and realise Opeli went down there, and one would think they might Argue about it, but in my head, he is so desperate not have a repeat of the fruit that it'll just be a few stern words and then they're cool, as they always are.

This is entirely not canon now but I do also like to think that Opeli has always had LJs favour, whether LJ is a real deity or not. I wrote in another ask that if Opeli got power from somewhere, it wouldn't be a primal source but from LJ herself, and the fact that Viren won't die is an extremely ironic and also extremely LJ thing to happen given all his crimes. Opeli threatening him is one of the very few times she invokes power through LJ the way a cleric might invoke the power of any other god, but I think there's also something extremely ominous about a non-combatant character threatening violence through a god BC. Well. She means it, and she's right. Whatever the fuck Claudia did to bring Viren back MIGHT ACTUALLY have made him immortal in some extremely ironic sense, and LJ definitely has the vibe of a god who would Absolutely pull that kind of shit.

ANYWAY thank you for the opportunity to talk about this!!!! I put FAR too much thought into this fic and it was an absolute Pleasure to rant about it!!

[jae-daddy]

Duff (11)

im jaebum au series 

one / two / three / four / five / six / seven / eight / nine / ten / eleven / twelve masterlist

pairing: im jaebum x reader  genre: angst, mature, smut  plot: you are the duff and guys use you to get close to your best friend, heather, and turns out Jaebum is no exception, but as time goes on the tension between you and your best friend’s unofficial boyfriend grows a/n: it’s been a while, my bad. but the next chapter is going to spicyyyyyyyy. not edited, hope yall enjoy it <3 stay safe out there <3

Your jaw dropped as the driver drove through the gates and up the long driveway to Park Jinyoung’s mansion. You knew he was rich, but you didn’t know he was this rich. But even more than the vast wealth the Parks had, you were more taken by the decorations that started from the gate all the way up to the main entrance. 

You turned towards Jaebum who was watching you already. You felt the golden glow of the lights outside flow into the unlit car, and somehow you could see something glint in his dark eyes. 

“It’s so beautiful, isn’t it Mr Kim?” you looked out the window again, to see the sparkling lights making a rendition of Van Gough’s starry night. You smiled to yourself a bit, “It might be a bit cliche and basic, but starry night is my favourite piece of artwork.” 

The driver hummed in reply, saying something about taking a picture for his daughter.

Jaebum didn’t reply, and you didn’t mind. Him and you weren’t exactly on friendly speaking terms, well at least not in your books. 

Since that day in the office, Jaebum had tried to talk to you numerous of times, but you avoided him. You didn’t want to hear his empty apologies or empty excuses or empty flirty, or whatever meaningless, empty words he wanted to say to you because he was feeling bored. 

You didn’t even think he would pick you up today, but when you called up your driver, Jaebum had pulled up in his sleek black car. It was a moment that you seen in movies, where the male lead sees the female lead with her makeover for the first time, and he’s blown away. 

But Im Jaebum wasn’t blown away. He wasn’t even fazed, if anything he found you so unappealing that he couldn’t bear to look at you for more than two seconds without looking away in pain. 

Was he always such an asshole?

He probably was, but back then he was trying to charm you with his sweet words. Maybe, he was a sicko who liked girls who weren’t into him, and as soon as you showed him any interest he vanished into the night. 

The car stopped at the red carpet laid out at the entrance, and you began to check your outfit and lipstick for the last time before reaching for the door. Your hand was reaching for the handle when the door swung open, and a hand reached in for you. 

You placed your hand in theirs, and carefully got out of the car. 

You stepped out to find yourself chest to chest with Jaebum. His fingers gripping onto your fingers as you stared up at him. 

You cleared your throat and began taking a step away from him, when he reached out and pulled your body against his by your waist. Your hands laid flat against his chest, the black material feeling rich on your skin. HIs dark eyes drifted to your lips, before they looked away purposefully. 

You turned around to find the car driving off behind you that you were about to bump into. You looked up at Jaebum, your cheeks tainting pink, “Thanks.” 

“Watch where you’re going,” was all he replied, as he let you go. 

Your heart once again sank at the lack of endearment, but you ignored it and adjusted the dress before you began following Jaebum into the mansion. 

Jaebum was instantly surrounded by people. People lining up around him, trying to play it off as they waited for their turns for introductions. You were right next to Jaebum, introducing him to everyone. 

The first hour was spent just like that, making introductions and standing next to Jaebum and pretending like you were invisible. The other important people only gave you a passing glance before looking away, no one stared for too long. You weren’t worth their time. 

You didn’t mind though. 

You enjoyed the architecture of the building and the artworks hanging around the hall. This must have really been a castle at some point you concluded after an hour of staring at the walls. You wondered which kind of ruler lived here before, but you knew for certain whoever it was wasn’t a good person; no in power ever is. 

Jaebum and you had drifted away about fifteen minutes ago, but you kept an eye out for him. He was currently taking to Paul from work, so you thought he was in safe hands. You took another mini-sausage roll before washing it down with another glass of expensive champagne. 

You didn’t like that taste even though it was exquisite. All it did was remind you of the night Jinyoung engaged to that woman in front of you, after telling you he loved you a few hours ago. 

“I finally found you,” a deep voice spoke behind you. His voice fell over you like velvet, and you struggled to breath. 

You turned around, already annoyed, “What are you doing here, Jinyoung?”

“You’re casual and feisty today,” he chucked, moving to stand next to you. He picked up a mini-sausage and popped it into his mouth, before waving a hand around, “This is my party, incase you’ve forgotten, y/n.” 

You snorted, “How can I forget with this champagne? Tell me, was this your favourite before you chose her or did it happen after?” 

“Woah,” Jinyoung tried to take the glass from you, but you moved it out of his reach, “How many of those have you had?”

“None of your business,” you gave him a straight smile. “None of these people are drinking anything anyway. And I needed a drink, it’s just been so hard lately.” 

You leaned your head on his shoulder, but straightened your spine right away, “I’m not drunk, Jinyoung. I just don’t have the energy to fight or pretend, at least not with you, not tonight.” 

“I don’t know if that is a compliment or not,” Jinyoung clicked his tongue, playfully. “I kind of like it when you fight with me.” 

“God, you’re such a perv, Jinyoung,” you groaned, and he laughed. 

“Come on,” he said, holding out his hand and gesturing to the dance floor. “Dance with me?” 

“No, thanks.”

“Why not?” 

“Are you sure you want to dance with me?” You asked him, with a knowing look. “I know this is a party, but I am still just an assistant here. Are you sure your reputation won’t hurt from dancing with someone like me? I’m not made of money like you, Jinyoung.” 

“Beauty and wealth are both welcomed here, y/n,” Jinyoung took your hand in his, “And you have a wealth of beauty, my dear.” 

He brought your hand to his face, his lips brushing over your knuckles. 

“Oh, right,” you chuckled, your heart sinking slightly. “You think I am pretty.”

Your gaze went to Im Jaebum who didn’t spare you a single glance. Your eyes fell on the girl he was talking to, and you couldn’t help but notice how different she was to you. You couldn’t but notice how different Jaebum looked talking to her; kind and well-mannered. 

“I’ve always found you beautiful, y/n,” Jinyoung said, drawing your attention back to him. “That’s why I was drawn to you in the beginning, and when I got to know you... well, I guess that was the end of me.” 

You laughed lightly as you placed your hand on his shoulder, and the other in his hand. His hands rested on the curve of your clothed hip. 

“But today,” he smiled at you, “You looked absolutely gorgeous.”

“Don’t exaggerate, Jinyoung. If you were so taken by me,” you laughed, teasingly, giving him a look. You continued your words turning sour, “You would’ve chosen me.” 

“You know how things were back then, y/n,” Jinyoung sighed, he closed his eyes to take a deep breath. He opened them to stare into yours with so much emotion, you couldn’t breathe. 

“I looked for you, you know,” he spoke over the music. You couldn’t blink or breath as you stared at Jinyoung. His brows creased as if he was rethinking a painful event. “After I decided to end the engagement... after I broke it off, I looked for you. I searched for you, but I couldn’t find you anywhere.” 

“I- I went back home,” you whispered. You saw yourself laying in a pool of your vomit and urine, and your mother and father crying around your limp body. “I couldn’t stay here. Everyone was talking about you... it was too much.” 

“Y/n,” Jinyoung said, softly. You looked up to meet his gaze. “It’s nice to have you back. I’ll make it up to you, I promise.” 

“Jinyoung-” 

“May I cut in?” 

“Always interrupting us, isn’t he, y/n?” 

You turned to find Jaebum glaring holes into Jinyoung’s head. 

“What if I say no?” Jinyoung pouted, teasingly. Jaebum sighed, his patience running thin. You looked around to see people already turning this way. 

“Stop it,” you gritted through your teeth at the both of the them, your lips holding a smile. “People are starting to look.” 

“I’ll dance with him for a bit,” you smiled at Jinyoung, “Thank you Jinyoung.” 

Jinyoung smiled back at you before giving you a cheeky wink. You chuckled watching him walk away. 

“You both seem closer than last time,” Jaebum said from behind you. You shrugged stepping closer to him placing a hand on his shoulder and the other in his hand. You were holding Jinyoung the same way a few moments ago, but somehow this felt different. 

The soft velvet of his jacket, the heat of his skin, the short hair tickling your fingertips at the nape of his neck. It was all somehow more intense, more intimate. 

Jaebum’s warm hands wrapped around yours as he took another step closer towards you. HIs other hand rested on your waist, pulling you in closer as it rested on the small of your back. His thumb caressed the exposed skin from your dress and you drew in a sharp breath. 

You didn’t say anything as you looked up at him. His dark eyes bore into yours, his lips drawn and tight. His jaw clenched and sharp, his black eyelashes gently fluttering across his cheekbones. 

He was beautiful. 

He was a sin in this all black suit made to precision for him. His hair was styled in-between completely swept back and lazy natural. His lips were rosy pink, and even without his lip-ring you wanted to taste them between your lips. 

You leaned closer to him. HIs thumb gently caressing your back, electricity dancing up your spine making your head spin. You welcomed his minty breath falling over your lips, as your eyes fell to his lips. And to his neck, watching as he swallowed nervously. Your gaze fluttered up to meet his eyes fixed on your face. 

You looked away from him feeling your cheeks flush, “Are you having a good time tonight, sir?” 

Jaebum only hummed in reply, his dark eyes still trained on you. 

Your eyes met his intense gaze for a moment before looking away instantly, “It’s a beautiful place, isn’t it?” 

“Yes, it is,” Jaebum said. You didn’t say anything more and bit your lip wondering if you should continue to dance with him or excuse yourself. 

You looked up at Jaebum, your hands letting go off him. 

Jaebum’s hand held yours tighter as he pulled you in closer by your waist. Your front was completely pressed against him now, and your body shivered as he leaned his lips close to your ear. 

You felt his warm breath caress the slope of your neck, and you closed your eyes letting the feeling sink deep within your bones. 

Jaebum drew his lips higher, his softness brushing against the shell of your ear as he whispered, “Thank you for everything, y/n.” 

You remained like that for a moment. Soaking in his presence, his heat, his touch, his breath, him somewhere deep inside your heart, and then you leaned back. 

“Thank you for giving me this opportunity, Mr Im,” you smiled up at him. 

Jaebum stared at you with an unreadable expression as his lips parted. 

“You must be glad you’ll be getting a proper secretary now,” you laughed, but there was no humour between you two. 

“I might not stay.”

“I know,” you nodded, “But if you do, I think it’ll be the biggest win for the company.”

Jaebum might be an asshole, a player; a complete fuckboy. But he was also hardworking, intelligent and gave his all into his work and accomplished a lot within the last three months you were working with him. 

“Loosing you is probably the biggest loss,” he said, pausing for a moment. “For me.” 

“I’m sure there are more qualified then me for this job.” 

“But I only want you, y/n.” 

You breath got caught at his words. Your wide eyes met his that stared at you as if you were the stars and the moon. As if once again you were presented to him as impossible puzzle, and he wanted to get lost in trying to solve you. 

He moved in closer, and lowered your gaze to avoid his heated ones. 

Jaebum lifted his hand from your waist. His fingertips brushed your cheeks with the slightest touch as he whispered, “You look beautiful, y/n.”

“Jaebum, stop it.” You began moving out of his arms, but he pulled you back in. His fingers digging into your waist as he held you steady in front of him. 

“Why?” His fevered breath fell over your face as you looked up at him. His eyes were wild with darkness, but it didn’t scare you. It only made you mad, so terribly horribly mad. 

“Why?” You spat, quietly. Your chest was heaving as you tried to control the anger that had been swelling inside you over the past month. 

“Don’t you think we’re past these little games of yours?” You sneered up at him. Your hand on his shoulder tightened as you tried to control yourself. “We already know I fell for it. Do you wanna see if I’ll fall for it again after being rejected once?” 

Jaebum didn’t say anything so you snorted. The sneer on your dark lips growing as you looked down your nose at him, “I won’t let you lead me on again, only to make a fool of me like that. I’m not going to play this sick game of yours.” 

Jaebum’s fingers bit harder into your waist making you gasp as he pulled you flush against him. HIs nose almost brushed against yours, as he breathed harshly, “A game? You think all of this was a game for me?” 

“What else could it be?” You snickered at him, both your hands flattening on his shoulder, trying to push him away with attracting any attention. But he wouldn’t budge a centimetre. You gritted through your teeth as you glared up at him, “Why else would you pretend to be into me? Play with me like that?”

Play with my feelings like that?

Jaebum’s hands rested on your exposed back as he held you steady against him. His jaw clenched, his eyes furious as he tried to control his breathing. 

“It wasn’t a game for me.” 

You ignored his words. 

“Then what was it?” You bit back. “You made it seem like you felt the same way only to reject me when I-”

“I didn’t reject you,” Jaebum cut you off. 

You began laughing mockingly, and Jaebum shook you slightly to make you look at him.�� 

You didn’t say anything and looked up at him, your lips parted in surprise. 

“Do you,” Jaebum whispered, leaning in closer to you as he leaned his forehead against yours. His eyes stirring golden as they stared into yours, his fingertips softly dancing on your back, causing fire to dance through your vines. “have any idea how crazy you make me, y/n?” 

Suddenly it was all too much. His touch, the way he was looking at you, the things he was saying. The lights shining down upon you two, the chattering of people around you. It all became to loud too much. Your heart beat loudly in your ear as you took a step away from him. 

Jaebum looked at you, expectantly. You stared him, unable to hear a single bought. The only thing you could hear was your heart beating thumping loudly in your ear. 

Your lips parted, you were going to say something. You weren’t sure what. Jaebum’s gaze fell to your lips, waiting for you to the say the words. You took another step back, not saying a single word. 

The smile on Jaebum’s lips dropped as your brows creased as a sudden panic before settling in your chest. You needed to get away.

“I-” you began. 

“Y/n!” You turned to saw a fury of red first, and then her smiling face as she jumped in front of you. “I didn’t know you were coming here.” 

Heather turned to Jaebum, placing a kiss on his cheek. His eyes remained on you, his face void of any emotions. 

Heather smiled at you, “Go away, JB. I won't let you steal my best friend.” 

// 

You were next to Heather the rest of the night, but your eyes still followed the man in the black suit. His sharp eyes met yours throughout the night, but every time you looked away. 

You were looking at him once again. There was something pleasant about his lips when he talked, and the way those whiskers appeared on his cheeks when he would smile or laugh brightly. You couldn’t look away from him no matter how hard you tried. 

You watched him talk to Park Jinyoung with a frown on his face, that deepened when Jinyoung looked your way and winked. His hard glaze travelled to you, as his lips drew into a straight line. 

You looked away once again, your cheeks on fire. 

“Are you okay?” Heather asked. You looked towards her to find her following your gaze to the pair of males. 

“Mhmm,” you nodded, taking a sip of the champagne.

You watched Heather take a sip too, but you noticed that knowing smile on her lips. 

This was all too dangerous.

[killemwithkawaii]

L.S.S.: See Mitchie? I told you, we already got some stuff in the inbox!

Mitch(5): Oh, really..? Ah, what is it…? [barely audible] They didn’t send more.. Ya know…

L.S.S.: Hehe, I don't know. Let’s find out…

Mitch(5): Ah- hi, Meadow! It’s nice to meet you! [nodding] So she’s one of your friends, Sally?

L.S.S.: Yup, we go back a ways…

Mitch(5): ….

L.S.S.: Hey, my friends are your friends, remember…? 

Mitch(5): [nodding] ….

[song starts playing]

Mitch(5): …. [head bobbing side-to-side]... [wiggling toes] ... [rocking side-to-side to the beat]...

….

L.S.S.: Oh… oh, there they go, she’s boppin’...

[song ends]

Mitch(5): Eheeheehee… it’s spooky but it’s also fun! I’m sorta glad she didn’t send the video, though. Baby dolls aren’t really my kind of creepy… 

L.S.S.: So, walking corpses and guts and slashers and horrifying monsters are good, but you draw the line at baby dolls…?

Mitch(5): Ah- well, dolls are kinda played out in horror, don’t ‘cha think…? Sure, they have the unnatural, uncanny valley element if they move or speak on their own, but they’re so small, they don’t really seem like much of a threat… 

L.S.S.: I guess, most of the time… small things can still pack a punch, though. They can take you by surprise and get you when you have your guard down, if you underestimate them…

Mitch(5): That’s true! Maybe I need to rethink them… I do like the song either way, though!

…[mimicking] ‘It’s okay, baby, I know you had a hard time… don’t be scared, you can trust me…’ Eheheeheehee…

L.S.S.: [chuckling] Sound familiar…?

Mitch(5): [giggling] Yes…~

…

[starts the song over].... [rocking side-to-side]

L.S.S.: …. Looks like we found our soundtrack for the day [chuckling]

Mitch(5): …Woah, those got here so fast...!! 

L.S.S.: Yeah, uh... those grocery delivery services sure are convenient! Ehe...

Mitch(5): [Indecipherable, excited] Ah, they’re so cute…!! Whaddaya wanna make with them?

L.S.S.: What do you have in the fridge?

Mitch(5): Mrr…. uh, the basics, I guess? Ah- oh, I have some parmesan, garlic, onions… and some bacon I got on special in the freezer! I’m sure all that would all be tasty together!

L.S.S.: Sounds good to me! I’m up for some experimenting in the kitchen if you are.

Mitch(5): Oh! Ah- Eheehee-... uh, yeah! [nodding] We’ll figure it out together…! Uh, let me find my extra apron…

Mitch(5): [indecipherable, excited] [rocking side-to-side] AHH!!!…

L.S.S.: Heh, pretty cute, right…?

Mitch(5): [nodding] Eee thank you so much!! This is SO nice of you!  I LOVE strawberries, how did you know?!

L.S.S.: I might have told them…

Mitch(5): Eeee, that’s so sweet! These look SO yummy!! Eheehee, yay, we have something for dessert now, too, Sally~!

L.S.S.: Oh, there’s gonna be two courses for dessert, now…?

Mitch(5): Huh…? But we didn’t …. OH- [squeaking] I- [indecipherable] 

… Eheehee, you’re… [giggling, rocking back and forth]

L.S.S.: Heh. Yes, yes I am…

Mitch(5): Eh- heh, well, if that’s the case then, uh, there’s probably enough here for breakfast tomorrow, too, so… if you, ah, wanna stay over again… unless you’re busy! I don’t wanna keep you, if you have something to do…

L.S.S.: Eheh.. well, I… no, you can keep me… I���m not going anywhere…

Mitch(5): [giggling] [wiggling toes] Uh… Maybe we can make pancakes together…?

L.S.S.: ���That sounds perfect.

Mitch(5): Ahh!! This is so much fun, I’m so excited…~!! [bouncing]

L.S.S.: Me too… maybe you wanna give drawing on the laptop a try before we start making dinner?

Mitch(5): You’re really okay with me using it…? It seems so fancy, I don’t really know what I’m going… I’m a little afraid I’m gonna break it or something…

L.S.S.: … Just give it a shot, I’m sure you’ll get the hang of it quick. Whatever you make will turn out great, I’m sure of it.

Mitch(5): Ah- well, uh…. Okay! [nodding] Thank you, Sal! I’ll be extra, extra careful, I promise…! 

L.S.S.: ...I know you will, Mitchie…

[hartigays]

Rafebarry from the POV of outsiders like the pouges and kooks who notice their relationship develop<3

doing this one out of order bc it called to me <3 the following povs include: jj, pope, kie, topper, and sarah!

side/minor pairings are jjpope and sarahkie

fic under the cut :-)

jj

the sun is hot on jj’s forehead as he sits in the passenger’s seat of luke’s truck, idling in front of barry’s trailer.

he hates these days. it’s never been jj’s favorite activity, coming along with his dad while he buys drugs with money they should be spending on food.

not to mention, it takes for-fucking-ever. luke tends to get real chatty after his first high of the day, and barry is the type of dealer who’s always just fucked up enough to allow it.

today, however, jj’s forehead is only mildly burnt when luke exits the trailer.

actually, he’s being ushered out by barry, who looks irritated in a way that jj has never seen before. though, to be fair, the only times jj has been around him are when barry’s high or when they’re trying to mutually kick each other’s asses.

luke is grumbling to himself as he climbs into the driver’s seat, fumbling with his keys. obviously already fucked up.

jj eyes him warily, before flickering his gaze back towards the trailer. he’s only a little surprised to see rafe cameron suddenly standing in the doorway with barry, looking like they’re arguing about something.

okay, maybe jj is a lot surprised to see the scene playing out before him. because despite the seemingly heated tone of their conversation, barry has a hand resting on one of rafe’s elbows. it’s almost a tender gesture, and jj has to look away, suddenly feeling like he’s intruding on something.

barry touches rafe the way jj touches pope. and that’s… that’s a bit much to take in, to be honest. because jj sure as hell doesn’t touch pope the way friends are technically supposed to touch each other.

it’s an information overload, and he has no idea what to do with it. jj decides to file the racing thoughts away for later, when he inevitably spills his guts to pope about just exactly what he’s seen at barry’s today.

luke finally gets the truck started, pulling off of barry’s property without even noticing the moment unfolding before them.

jj takes one last look at rafe and barry, crowded in the doorway of the trailer while looking at each other like everything around them has fallen away, like it’s just the two of them left in the world.

interesting.

pope

it’s a sunday afternoon when they come in.

they’re arguing about something, barry looking thrilled by it whereas rafe just looks like he wants to smash his head through the nearest window.

“you ain’t really fished, country club,” pope hears barry saying when they’re close enough, “not til’ you caught a gator.”

pope suppresses a snort. there isn’t a soul in the OBX who’s caught a gator and didn’t come away with a chunk of themselves missing, and typically always empty-handed.

not like he’s going to tell two dickheads like barry or rafe that. if they want to go get chomped to bits by alligators, by all means.

pope is curious about the nature of their relationship, though. it’s interesting, and interesting things never cease to draw him in. (see: jj maybank).

jj had mentioned a few days ago that barry and rafe have seemed… different, recently. ever since then, pope has wondered about it. it’s a curious relationship, so he doesn’t think it’s that weird that he’s been desperately trying to understand it from all angles.

pope also just wants to know if jj is right. if barry and rafe really do have a thing going on. because like he’d told jj, he’ll believe it when he sees it.

it’s not like jj needs to know that he’s been secretly agonizing over it for absolutely no reason for the last three days.

pope stays seated quietly behind the counter, casually flipping through a magazine without really reading it, glancing up every now and then to spy on barry and rafe.

they’re standing by the bait selection, quietly conversing back and forth. pope can’t make out what they’re saying, but based on their expressions, they’re probably just talking about bait.

that is, until rafe passes barry a certain kind of bait with a questioning glance, and barry accepts it with a proud smile. rafe’s cheeks turn bright pink, and when their fingers brush as rafe passes off the bait, his face takes on a nearly scarlet hue.

so, okay, yeah. jj was definitely on the mark. it still makes absolutely no sense, whatsoever, but at the same time, they seem to operate in sync. it’s almost natural, whatever flows between them.

pope watches them walk up to the counter, feigning wariness to hide his curiosity, internally noting that he has a lot of homework to do later.

kie

the wreck is unusually slow tonight. it’s a thursday evening, and usually more patrons show up, pre-gaming their friday night bash with a thursday kickoff.

there are only three families and a few scattered couples seated here and there.

that is, until they walk in.

kie can’t really say that she hasn’t been expecting this. she wishes she could say that, to be quite honest, but jj and pope have made it their personal mission to torment her with information about barry and rafe that she truly never needed or wanted to know.

not that they’re more than likely gay as hell - kiara doesn’t care about that. she’d be a bit of a hypocrite if she did, if she’s being honest. it’s the fact that they’re rafe and barry.

two people who’s fates the cosmos should never have aligned. if what pope and jj say is true, anyway.

somehow, kie hasn’t come up with any reason to doubt it. rafe is crazy, barry is pure chaos in physical form. she imagines they’re like a nuclear bomb waiting to go off, but she also sees how it works.

kie really, really hates that she can see how it works.

there’s another waitress working tonight, and she’s the one to seat the couple. or pair. or whatever they are. kie can’t remember her name - she’s only here for the summer, anyway. nevertheless, she has the inexplicable desire to drag the poor girl away when she attempts to flirt with rafe.

not only because rafe is liable to stab her in a parking lot or something, but also because rafe and barry are clearly on some sort of date.

she doesn’t know why, but after the waitress finally walks away, kiara keeps waiting on bated breath for more people to show up and join rafe and barry’s party. despite the fact that they’ve been seated at a table for two.

no one else shows up.

they spend the evening conversing quietly back and forth, their voices occasionally raising when they get into a little spat about something.

which happens about every ten seconds, if kie has been accurately keeping track.

not that she’s watching them, necessarily. it’s just a bit of a shock, seeing what jj and pope have been telling her for days play out right in front of her, in real time.

they don’t operate like the other couples in the restaurant, that’s for sure. or any sort of couple kie has ever seen before in her entire life. but pope was right, whatever flows between them is freakishly natural.

and that’s why kiara can’t stop watching. she can’t stop honing in on every movement - the way they steadily shift closer throughout the evening, first putting their elbows on the quaint table, scooting them closer and closer until they’re nearly touching, leaning into each other like they’re being pulled together by some magnetic force, unable to stay apart.

it’s like when kie knocks on sarah’s window and watches her come close, pressing into the glass as if she’s being sucked in by some invisible force, the same one that drives sarah across the room towards her, pulling her into her orbit.

kiara shakes her head, trying to shake off the thoughts. she really doesn’t need to be going around equating her relationship with sarah with whatever the fuck is going on between rafe and barry.

whatever it is, though, kie can’t help but note that it’s something light rather than dark. something almost like happiness - something she never actually thought rafe was capable of feeling.

but with the way rafe is looking at barry, their hands now linked together beneath the table where they think no one else can see, kie is starting to rethink just about everything she knows about rafe cameron.

well, maybe not everything. but some things. enough that her head will be full for the foreseeable future. all because of barry and rafe fucking cameron of all people.

what the fuck.

topper

“you’ve been gone for like, weeks, dude,” topper says, eyeing rafe from across the table.

they’re at the figure eight country club, having drinks (on topper, of course) and a light lunch. it’d been topper’s idea. rafe had merely reluctantly agreed, claiming he had nothing else going on today.

he’d sounded almost like he was pouting about something. now that he’s seated across from topper, he can clearly see that rafe is definitely pouting about something.

which isn’t unusual, per se. but it is unusual that rafe isn’t bitching about whatever it is.

to be fair, rafe has been different these days. topper doesn’t really know what’s going on with him at all, their lives having suddenly and unexpectedly diverged for reasons topper still doesn’t understand.

it’s not like rafe was his best friend or anything - the guy’s a dick more often than not. but they had been friends at least, and confided in one another from time to time. guy to guy.

topper still wonders what happened, to this day. he doesn’t think rafe will ever tell him, though. not fully. and that’s okay, topper isn’t, like, desperately interested or anything, but a bit of an explanation would be nice. even a half-assed one.

“i’ve had shit going on,” rafe finally answers, as vague as can be.

topper rolls his eyes. “obviously. come on, man. i just want to know what’s been up with you lately.”

“you mean you want to know what’s been up with sarah,” rafe corrects, taking a long sip of his beer.

and okay, yeah, maybe topper’s desire to get back in touch with rafe has a little something to do with wanting to know what sarah’s been up to. but he does want to know whats been going on with rafe, too. that wasn’t a lie. he’d just omitted some details, sue him.

“yeah, okay,” topper agrees, not bothering with lying. “but i’ve also been wondering about you, man. you just kinda. disappeared.”

rafe picks at his burger, before pushing it away with a sigh. “shit happens, top.”

it’s so far from an explanation that topper kind of wants to throttle him all of a sudden, but rafe doesn’t give him the chance. his phone starts ringing, and he pulls it out with a triumphant smile, like he’s just won something.

something he’s definitely very, very smug about.

topper thinks he hears something along the lines of ‘m fuckin’ outside you little shithead brat coming from the person on the other end of the line.

rafe just smiles wider, putting on an innocent look even though whoever he’s talking to can’t see him. “coming!”

listen. listen. rafe fucking sing-songs it. topper feels like he’s been punched directly in the solar plexus. his mind reels.

topper is nowhere close to catching up, but rafe is already standing up and excusing himself, saying he has somewhere to be and thanking topper for the lunch half-heartedly, not contributing anything towards the bill.

typical rafe.

topper latches onto that familiarity to get his brain working again, shoving himself back from the table and racing out of the club, tossing a few too many bills on the table as he runs out. he practically chases rafe down, tumbling out the front doors as rafe is crossing the parking lot.

rafe comes to a stop next to some guy on a motorcycle, and neither of them have seen topper yet, clearly. because in the next moment rafe is pulling off the guy’s helmet and kissing barry the fucking coke dealer right on the mouth, tongue and all.

topper almost blacks out on the steps.

instead, he steadies himself on the railing of the staircase, shouting across the parking lot, “what the fuck, rafe?”

the reaction topper gets is not the one he was expecting. rafe just grins like a shark, then climbs on the back of barry’s bike. he wraps his arms around barry’s waist, then he taps barry twice, and they’re speeding out of the parking lot.

“we are so fucking talking about this!” topper yells after them, his head still spinning.

the roar of the motorcycle drowns out the noise.

sarah

she isn’t sure what wakes her up at first.

for a moment, sarah thinks kie is at her window. she frowns in confusion, still half-asleep, wondering why kie would be here without texting or calling first.

they always text or call first.

when sarah sits up and looks over at her window, there’s nothing there. but she knows she heard something, something that roused her from her peaceful slumber.

there it is again. it sounds like a squeaking noise, like an old window or a screen door opening. a moment later, quiet voices, drifting through the vent in her bedroom.

sarah wonders if it’s ward, if he’s having some secret meeting that would be truly invaluable to overhear.

she scrambles out of bed, tip-toeing to her air vent and sinking down to her knees. she leans closer, then closer still. all she can here are soft voices - she can’t make out any words. whatever the conversation is about, it’s interspersed with giggles and gasps.

oh. oh my god. ward is cheating, he has to be. and wouldn’t that be such sweet justice? catching ward in the act of something he can’t deny? something that could potentially keep rose from continuing to feed his endless greed?

sarah stands up and races across her room as quietly as she can, poking her head out the door and looking around before creeping into the hallway. she quietly makes her way to ward’s office, stopping just outside and leaning close to listen.

silence.

if they’re done already, that’s pretty pathetic on ward’s part, sarah thinks. but then she hears it again, the soft cacophony of sounds, only louder this time.

sarah follows the noise, her curiosity getting to the better of her. it leads her straight to rafe’s bedroom.

she really should’ve known better than to open the door.

“oh my god! oh my god? oh my god.” sarah slaps her hands over her eyes, already trying to scrub the image of barry on top of her brother from her mind.

she just walked in on rafe. having sex. with barry.

sarah feels a little faint.

“jesus christ, sarah, would you get the fuck out?” sarah hears rafe snap, and she fumbles for the doorknob, slamming the door shut quickly.

she backs away in horror, practically bolting back to her room and flinging herself onto her bed. sarah grabs her phone, firing off a few texts to the group chat.

sarah: SOS!!! walked in on barry and rafe…

sarah: oh god

sarah: i can’t even say it

jj: were they? y’know

jj: like

jj: brokeback mountain style or

pope: jesus christ jj

pope: that’s disgusting

pope: ………

pope: but for real though were they?

john b: i’d also like to know

kie: you know what count me in too

sarah: oh my god.

sarah: i hate all of you.

sarah has the most useless friends on the planet, and the drug dealer is fucking her brother. frankly, she’s had enough for one night.

sarah tosses her phone onto the floor and puts a pillow over her face, drifting back into her blissful state of unconsciousness. she’s not awake to hear rafe and barry start up again.

thank fucking god for small mercies.

[nikethestatue]

Meet Me in the Silence

Elriel Month - Day 5

 Continuation of ‘Forbidden’

Honestly, tooth-rotting fluff, some Nyx, stabbing Cassian with fork, Azriel singing and relationship stuff

Azriel loved Nyx. He didn’t love him because Nyx was cute and pudgy, or because he was his nephew, or because he was a fun, if demanding baby, and not even because spending time with him was a private relief for Azriel. A time to let go, a time where he could spend rolling around on the carpet, helping Nyx with blocks, rattles and the construction of pillow forts, watching Nyx sneeze little whiffs of starry night.

Nyx, unbenounced to him, showed Azriel some truths that Azriel couldn’t face before. The thing with Nyx was that he was a baby and he didn’t care—he didn’t care about Azriel’s scars and his ugly hands, he didn’t care about Azriel’s cruel ways, or the services that he provided to the High Lord. Nyx didn’t care about how many people fell under Truth-Teller’s deadly edge, or what Azriel had to do on the battlefields or during the Blood Rite. Nyx didn’t judge. As an infant, he wanted the same thing from Azriel as he wanted from everyone—warmth and comfort, kindness and love. He wanted to be rocked to sleep, fed, changed and played with. He didn’t care that the bottle was held by the same hand that tortured the Night Court’s enemies, or that the man who held him to his chest did some unforgivable things in his life.

As the last nine months rolled by, Azriel had to do some re-evaluations of his life. He had time on his hand, to be sure. Instead of courting Elain, like he wanted to, he thought. There was nothing much else left for him to do.

He thought that perhaps, despite his internal denials, Elain was much like Nyx—she accepted Azriel for what he was. Scars and all. Her acceptance did not stem from naiveite, though, but love. The realization hit Azriel like a sledgehammer. He crawled towards it, slowly, but surely, rethinking every touch and every smile, recalling every smirk and sparkle of the caramel-brown eyes, all the jokes and jabs, and gentle touches and finger brushes. Recalled the worry on Elain’s face when she knew that he went on his missions—even if they weren’t particularly dangerous. The pain that was etched on her features, when he returned in a particularly foul mood, and she knew that it was because he did things that marred his soul. He remembered her casually handing him a whiskey, which he’d gulped down in one go. Or a cup of tea, with honey and lemon, just like he liked. The gooey caramel cakes that she made—they were his favourite—and they began making a frequent appearance on the dessert menu. The past nine months of their forbidden love—is that what it was?—were the time when Azriel finally felt loved. For the first time in his life. Mor never really loved him, not like he needed to be loved. His brothers—well, they were his brothers, so that was that. Elain loved him. Of that, he was now certain. Elain loved him without touching. Without kissing. Without romance. Without courtship. Without gifts or presents or flowers. Without promises. Without expectations. It’s like she couldn’t help herself, even if she tried. She needed to love him, as much as he needed to be loved by her. All her tiny gestures of comfort and care created a glittering mosaic of love and devotion, which he only now began to piece together. And it pained him that she was not free to express herself as she wanted to, because loving him came with a hefty, unreasonable price.

For her, he’d fight. For her, he’d be the person she deserved. When she began choosing him, it was the first time in his life when someone actively chose him, despite all his shortcoming. And he wanted her to continue choosing him, every day, making the decision to love him.

Azriel had a lot of time to think about it, in silence.

 Azriel was a good cook. One of his may hidden talents. He spent much of his time alone, or in places that were foreign and unfamiliar, or in the army, and necessity being the mother of invention, he had to learn how to cook. And then, he became quite good at it. He had to draw the line at baking, but he could make a steak like nobody’s business, and eggs every way were his specialty. Tonight though, he was tired and distracted. It was the first time in a very, very long time when he and Elain were alone, so he didn’t particularly want to waste it on cooking. What’s more, with Nyx being the raging little monster that he was today, Azriel wanted to put the kid to bed as soon as possible and just relax. For a meticulous planner, tonight, he had no plans at all…and it both excited and frightened him, because it would just be the two of them and they’ll have to figure it out.

“Breakfast for dinner?” he offered, while Elain set Nyx’s food in front of him. He was too quick for her and immediately jammed his whole fist into the vegetable mash, soliciting a groan from her, as he began licking his palm and fingers with gusto.

“Whatever you want to make,” she agreed, as she began wiping the mess that Nyx made, while Azriel smirked, shaking his head. He tossed two slices of ham in the skillet, and allowed it to crisp up and caramelize.

He came behind her and wrapped his arms around her shoulders, burying his face in her hair. She smiled, momentarily lost in the sensation of closeness and comfort that he always offered her, so effortlessly too.

“You know,” warned Azriel, using his ‘stern’ voice, looking at Nyx, “for your behavior, you should be sent to an Illyrian training camp. Just so you know what’s what. There, there won’t be 10 people looking for Brute for you, or uncle Cassian swimming with you in the pool, or Elain feeding you lemon cakes, or aunt Nesta reading to you the same book over, and over, and over, and over again. No aunt Mor taking you on a pony, and no Varian building sandcastles with you, only to watch you destroy them.”

Elain, tucked against his chest, was laughing. Especially because Nyx was glaring at Aziel unhappily and suspiciously.

Then, she said, softly, almost to herself, “I am happy that he is happy. That we can give him the childhood that none of us had. Let him be a little bit spoilt, because he is so loved.”

There was longing in her tone. Longing for something that she probably desired for herself. Those conversations have never been had between the two of them. Gods, they’ve never even been together in public, let alone had conversations about the future, and a future that included children. It was never something Azriel even thought of, considering his ‘luck’ in love, and his line of work. But he heard her. So he gave her a little kiss on the cheek and returned to his cooking.

Elain was feeding Nyx the last of his food, when Azriel placed two plates on the table, and poured both of them a glass of ale.

“Beer with breakfast,” she giggled. “I like the way you think, shadowsinger.”

He laughed, loving how easy it all was. How easy the banter came, how relaxed they were together, how there were no pressures at all when it was just the two of them. Well, three.

“Alright, you’ve taken enough of everybody’s time today,” he decided, as he fished Nyx out of the highchair and went to wash his face and hands again. Elain remained seated, watching the two of them, with her chin propped on her hand.

Was it normal to be that enamoured with a man? When he did mundane things? She had to admit—Azriel was indescribably beautiful. That alone would attract anyone. The gargantuan wings, ticked tightly, but not tensely against his back didn’t hurt either. The span of his enormous shoulders, the movement of those thick muscles around the arms, over his back, which moved and bulged as he wrestled with Nyx, who was refusing to get his hands washed, were mesmerizing. She knew that she shouldn’t be so dazzled by his looks, but she couldn’t help herself. But it was more than just admiring the elegant cut of his body, the well-fitted trousers that did very nice things to his thighs and his long legs, or the enticing forearms that were exposed from his haphazardly rolled up sleeves. The tattoos, in fact, snaked lower than she anticipated. She’d never seen him undressed—Cassian, strong, beefy and powerful, and the leaner, thinner Rhysand—plenty of times. But not Azriel. He’s been annoyingly timid. All three were tattooed, but apparently, Azriel’s reached all the way to his scars. She smiled to herself, amazed and bemused. Who would’ve thought that she, Elain, would be so attracted to a winged and tattooed male? What a far cry from the ordinary, plain Greyson.

Azriel plopped Nyx down on the floor, tossed him Brute and some toys and then quickly threw a shield around them, so Nyx was contained and didn’t attempt to wander from the kitchen.

“You should’ve started,” he nodded to her untouched plate, as he sat down.

“Not without you,” she said. “Looks very good!”

“I try,” he said bashfully and they tucked into to the scrambled eggs, ham and vegetables.

“Oh, gods, it’s really good,” she almost moaned.

“Baby, it’s just eggs,” he reminded her, secretly very pleased with her reaction.

“Well, baby likes them!” she giggled, cutting into the ham. Azriel watched her, watched the movement of her hands and she asked, “What?”

He chuckled and said, sipping his ale,

“I recall when you were planning to kill Cassian with a fork.”

Her brow furrowed.

“What?”

“Oh, you don’t remember?” he was laughing softly.

“I don’t think it’s even possible to kill Cassian,” she noted.

“I’d agree. But you were ready and eager.”

“When was I planning to kill Cassian?” she demanded.

“First time we met—at dinner. I remember Nesta…well, being Nesta. And Cassian—Mother save me, the moment he had her eyes on her, he was just dripping with this hideous arousal,”

Elain almost choked, eyes wide.

“What?”

“It was horrible,” he gave an exaggerated shudder. “Rhys and I were traumatized. Those two were going at it, as usual, fighting, sniping…whatever they do, and all we could smell was him getting hotter and hotter. That dinner,” he shook his head at the memory. “It was something else.”

She was laughing, nodding.

“And you?” she asked, at last.

He gave her a long thoughtful look. A tender, loving look that made her throat bob, and suddenly she was hot…much like Cassian.

“Honestly?” he asked quietly, not taking his eyes off her.

“Yes.”

“I thought that I saw the most human and the most beautiful girl in the world. Utterly unattainable. Engaged to another man. But surprisingly unafraid of us,”

“I was very afraid of you!” she argued. Azriel smiled.

“You three were huge!” she cried. “With these enormous wings,”

He raised his brow suggestively and she smacked his arm,

“Oh, shut up,”

“I didn’t even say anything,” he shrugged, “but please, tell me more about our huge wings, and our generally superior size,”

“I am not telling you anything,” she snapped, her cheeks red, and he was delighted.

“But you do admit that you tried to kill Cassian?”

“I didn’t try to kill him. Just defend myself, if there was need,”

“Pretty sure Nesta would’ve unmanned him with her bare hands,”

“Of that, I have no doubt.”

“And me?” he pressed, “you didn’t want to stab me with a fork?”

She gave him a cool look of nonchalance and recalled,

“You suddenly turned into a poet!”

“Did I?” it was his turn to be confused.

“Something about hearing the wind song, or something,”

“I don’t even remember that,” he confessed, a slow blush spreading over his cheeks.

“I do. I guess we remember different things about that evening.” She glanced at him from under her lashes and added, “I just remember thinking that you were the most handsome man—male—I’d ever seen. I didn’t even think that people could be that beautiful,”

Azriel’s blush deepened and Elain secretly enjoyed watching him squirm a little. She was well aware of the fact that he was always uncomfortable when people mentioned his appearance. He knew that he was handsome, almost unnaturally so, but whatever horrible words and deeds he’d experienced in his childhood warped his perception of himself. At times, she wanted to assure him that no one paid much attention to his hands…she certainly didn’t. She always found his hands, the scars on them just as attractive as the rest of him. They were simply a part of him, just as his beauty was. But he struggled. She knew it.

And as she always did, when she wanted to reassure him, she took his hand and brought it to her lips. He stilled. She kissed. Kissed the inside and outside of his palm. Watched him. Watched him tense, but not pull away his hand. Kissed each long, strong finger. Kissed the rough skin. Kissed the pain and the doubt. Not away, but at least temporarily.

Bored and tired, Nyx fell asleep on the floor, sprawled on the rug, clutching Brute.

“We have to take him upstairs,” muttered Elain, releasing Azriel’s hand.

She didn’t know how to deal with the intimacy of their relationship. Her feelings were raw and exposed, and she was painfully aware of her own inexperience. She didn’t know how to be seductive. Had no idea how to play games—wasn’t really looking to learn either. But she wasn’t dazzling or mysterious, and had no inkling of what Azriel expected, of what he wanted. He was so unbearably difficult to read, while she was stupidly, obviously in love with him. She was the Cassian to his Nesta. She was the one dripping with arousal, unable to stifle her need, or dampen her desire. He probably saw her as the fool that she was.

Frustrated, she made to get up from the table, but he caught her wrist and clasped it gently, as always reigning in his terrifying strength.

“Come here,” he murmured and pulled her to him, until she settled on his lap, feeling both awkward and happy. “Lainey,”

“I like baby,” she blurted.

He nodded, and said, “Baby, you don’t need to pretend with me…I…” he swallowed, thinking how to continue. “You might be surprised, but it’s new for me as well. I’ve had,” ugh, he really didn’t want to discuss his past lovers with her, not right now. “I am not inexperienced,” he said diplomatically. No, he wasn’t. “But this,” and he waved his hand between them, “this is new for me as well. I’ve never felt this much…for anyone. Ever,”

“What becomes of us, Az?” she asked softly.

“Whatever you want,” he stated simply.

“But,”

He shrugged, “there will always be obstacles,”

“Rhysand is more than just an ‘obstacle,’” she reminded him.

“Rhysand, frankly, can go and fuck himself,” Azriel said flatly.

The new, Fae Elain wasn’t scandalized by the coarse language. The three brothers, Nesta and Mor cursed like sailors, and Elain found herself throwing an occasional ‘shit’ and ‘dick’ in her speech. So it made her smile when the usually controlled, polite Azriel unleashed his mouth.

“He is your High Lord,” she reminded him.

“He is technically everyone’s High Lord, but it doesn’t mean that he gets free reign on doing whatever he wants. If I am not asking him to give up Feyre—remember how he snuck her out from Tamlin’s clutches—then he doesn’t get to tell us what we ought to do.”

The thing that he’s been carrying in his pocket was burning through him, a constant reminder. He shifted and then looked straight at her and tucked an errant strand of her hair behind her ear. For someone who didn’t crave or enjoy touch, the desire to touch her was constant. He didn’t even need anything sexual at this point, but feeling her skin against him, in whatever way, was beyond satisfying.

“Did you promise him anything?” she inquired, moving even closer to him, loving the heavy warmth of his arms around her.

“Absolutely not!” he spat. “He is completely overstepping, and I’ve been humouring him up until now, but it seems to be that he is a little too comfortable with the status quo,” he looked at her, his voice grave, “I hope you didn’t promise him anything either?”

She shook her head,

“No. I didn’t say anything.”

A whoosh of breath escaped him. “Thank the Cauldron.”

Elain stroked his cheek with the backs of her fingers and said, sharply this time, “Everything’s been taken away from me once already. I wasn’t prepared to give you up. You are the only thing that I want, and Rhysand wasn’t going to take that away from me. From us…” she glanced at him, “if you feel the same…”

“Do you need to ask?”

She smiled.

Azriel exhaled deeply and then cupped her face between his hands. He was going to do it. He needed to do it. She devoured his gaze, the look of intent in his forest-green golden eyes, the determined set of his jaw. He left her, once, waiting…Waiting for him to take the next step, waiting for him to act and he didn’t. Not today.

“Elain,” he swallowed audibly, and she felt that he was nervous. “Will you permit me to court you?”

Azriel wanted to do this properly. Elain deserved it—deserved to be treated with kindness and respect, but he deserved it as well—he wanted to do what so many others took for granted. It never came naturally to him, the normal things, and for once, despite everything, he was going to make this one thing happen.

Nyx moved on the floor, woke up and let out a scream. Confused, he looked around and began babbling tearfully ‘ma, ma, ma’.

Elain slipped off his lap and gently cooed “Shhhh, come…come, my sweet boy,” and picked him up. Azriel watched them, not even upset at the interruption.

Nyx was crying in earnest now, and not even Brute was enough to console him.

“I am going to try to put him to bed,” she whispered, rocking the baby against her chest.

Azriel opened his arms and said, “hand him over.”

“But,”

He carefully took Nyx from her and the move did not result in silence or calm, and Nyx cried just as sadly, looking for his mom. As Azriel made his way down the hall and towards the stairway, with Elain trailing him, he began to sing. In a language that Elain did not know, but understood innately to be Illyrian. The way the sounds rolled off Azriel’s tongue was natural, the melody lulling and sweet. His voice was soothing and pleasant, with a gravelly note that came from the back of his throat. Nyx stilled, blinking at him. As they slowly went up the stairs, Azriel rocked and cuddled Nyx, stretching his wings so they covered them in a dark canopy, the words of the lullaby muffled, but just as beautiful. Elain wished that it didn’t end…There were just a words that she picked up ‘warrior’ and ‘sleep’—something she learned from Cassian, who was teaching Nesta some Illyrain phrases, now that they spent a decent amount of time in their Illyrian bungalow.

In Nyx’s nursery, Azriel put the baby down in the crib and covered him with a blanket, rocking the crib lightly, as he continued his song, quieter now, seeing that Nyx’s eyelids drooped.

Wordlessly, he lifted his arm and Elain slipped to his side, and wrapped her arm around his torso. They never needed words.

Sleep, warrior heart

Sleep and know that you are loved

Sleep, warrior heart and meet me in silence

Find dreams and peaceful slumber, my little warrior heart

 Azriel quietly translated the song, without her prompting. He knew that she’d want to know what the words meant. He, however, did not explain the history of the song and where and how he’d learned it.

“Yes.”

He looked down at her, a silent question on his face.

“The answer is ‘yes’,” she repeated. “You may court me.”

“Thank you,” was all he said.

They left the nursery and stopped in the hallway.

He put his hand on the back of her neck and stroked.

“Then I’d like for you to have this,” he said at last. He took something from his pocket and laid it in her palm. It was a key.

“We will have to meet in silence.”

[buglife]

Ghost and Tiso? Maybe about how they became friends?

Depictions of injuries and some sad stuff ahead, but this the longest request to date! Apologies my eyes are bad lol.

Tiso didn’t know what to think when he first laid eyes on the little knight, sitting alone on the sole bench in Dirtmouth. They were one of the strangest beings he had ever saw, with their big white helmet-like head, their weird little nubby body, and the fact they had a nail. How could something this tiny hold a nail? It had to be someone’s lost grub, he was sure of it. There was no way this little squib wasn’t about to be ambushed by some angry parent, furious that they were carrying an actual nail. He waited a moment and looked around, but nobody came.

He supposed someone would come sooner or later, he had a mission after all. He had wandered the wastes since he came of age with just himself and his shield searching for some sort of purpose in life. Sure, he had over time, became a rather competent warrior, but he failed to find challenges that would actually test his mettle. Then, he heard tales of a lost Kingdom where many bugs have gone and never returned. Said Kingdom was rumored to have an arena where one could compete for glory. Tiso had already bested many arenas and moved on, ever searching. If there wasn’t an arena than he could at least look around and recount what he saw.

Maybe here, he’ll find himself, and find a measure of happiness.

His shield felt heavy as he sighed and looked at the well. The Elderbug, kind as could be, had warned him of the dangers below. Bugs sometimes lost their minds, trapped in a dreaming world where they couldn’t remember anything but a bright, burning light. Bugs died from the claws of the infected, most no more than empty husks driven by a malevolent will. The thought horrified Tiso, he had never heard of such a thing. The dead walking? Still, the old bug was serious as he let his old gaze drift around the nearly empty town.

Tiso was inclined to believe him.

So there he was, ready to take the plunge down below and took one last look at the grub sitting on the bench. He happened to catch their eyes, and the little grub straitened up a little. He was surprised to see them leap off and stride toward him quickly, waving their arms.

“What do you want, Squib.” Tiso had no mood to deal with any little kids.

He watched them move their hands out from under their cloak, their tiny paws and equally tiny claws making a flurry of movements. They then stared at him expectantly.

“Uhhh...the fuck was that?” He had no clue what the little grub was doing with their hands. They deflated a little and then brightened, reaching into themselves with a hand and suddenly, they had a little book and a pen.

“...what...did you, did you just reach inside yourself!?” Tiso boggled, the hell was this? What the hell was this kid?

He watched in stunned silence as the little being ignored him to start scribbling quickly, turning over the book once done to display their writing.

“Hello, please be careful down there. It’s dangerous.”

“Ppfft. Nothing dangerous for the likes of me.” Tiso couldn’t help but grin. Aw, how precious, they were worried about him. “I’m a seasoned warrior, I faced a lot and I am sure I can handle myself.”

The being frowned, at least, Tiso thought they did. They tilted their mask in a way to convey some measure of unhappiness and then started writing again. They turned over the book with a flourish once done, the ink smeared a bit in their haste to write it.

“I am also a warrior and there are things down there that can kill you without hesitation. I’ve seen corpses of better armed and armored warriors scattered below. All thought the same that you did. Please be careful.”

Of course Tiso ignored most of the writing to focus on the first part. “Oh, a warrior you say, you know how to use that nail you have there?”

They nodded, shoulders tense as they again, pointed to the part about the dead bodies. Then tapped it.

“Obviously they weren’t as good as me then.”, he huffed. “Say, if you do fancy yourself a warrior, I hear there’s a place for us, an arena of sorts. Maybe we’ll meet up there, and you can show me what you know.” He held up his shield, the metal glinting in the lights of the lumafly lanterns. “That is, if your parents let you, Squib.”

The grub sighed with their whole body, and wrote back to reply.

“I am not a kid. I’m probably older than you.”

Tiso couldn’t help but bark out a laugh. “Okay, okay, whatever you say. You got a name, little Squib?”

The being rubbed their face for a moment and wrote back. “My name is Ghost. You?”

“Heh, you’re speaking to Tiso! Remember that name, it’ll probably be famous.” He preened a little, slightly disappointing to find that the little Ghost was just staring at him. Once again they presented their scribbles.

“Or I’ll remember it to put on your grave marker.”

Bummer, kid. Tiso at first thought the squib was mocking him. He opened his mouth to call them a little shit, but he took a second look at them. They looked tired and weary. They looked like someone used to hearing bad news. Inside, he felt a little guilty at this. Clearly this thing...Ghost...was genuinely worried about his safety and he went and spit it back in their faces. It seems that foot-in-mouth disease is a reoccurring issue with him.

He sighed. “Look, I know you don’t believe me, but I promise that I know what I’m doing. If things are too bad, I know when to cut my losses and run, alright?”

Ghost brightened up at that and nodded. Tiso snickered to lighten the mood, reaching down to pat them between the horns (something they radiated a scowl at, but said nothing about).

“No worries, if anything, I do wanna see what you can do sometime!”

And with that, Tiso jumped down the well.

---

Well, Tiso should have listened to the little Ghost. Because he had to fight every inch of the way to reach this one stag station. He had learned the name of this wretched section, ‘the Forgotten Crossroads’, and he wished it could be forgotten. He had barely landed on the stonework below when an infected bug lunged out of the darkness, hissing. He had swiftly decapitated it, getting some orange gunk all over his shield. He had wanted to clean it off then and there, but the buzzing sound of vengeflies made him rethink his plan. The feral Tiktiks and Crawlids didn’t give him much trouble, except the time he stepped on one by accident and their spikes hurt like hell. The vengeflies were bastards like usual, screeching as they tried to dive bomb him.

And oh, the aspids. The fucking aspids. How he hated them. He felt so much satisfaction every-time he threw his shield and popped their horrible little glowing abdomens. The only problem was the orange that splashed out burned any exposed bit of chitin he had. Never before, had he been glad to own his armor. He would be extremely happy if he drove those little bastards to extinction. The husks though, were very horrible. Not in a fighting way, in there they were stupid in that they only knew how to run straight at him. He could take their heads off at a distance, shield returning to him with a flash of soul. In the end, he pitied them. They were once bugs, like him, but something had changed, and they became infected. He had been happy to find a hot spring that he could scrub himself and his equipment clean. He didn’t know if he even could be infected, but he decided to err on the side of caution. The orange...goo...he couldn’t call it proper hemolymph, didn’t seem to cause him trouble for now. But still, better safe than sorry. He made camp there for the night, but not only because he didn’t want to get out of the water.

He had braved the crossroads again the next day, ducking under aspids and slaughtering husks until he found the relative safety of the stag station. He sighed and sat on the bench, leaning backwards to rest a spell.

Then came the sound of rumbling. He was instantly alert, shield at the ready and his eyes trained to the tunnel. He expected many things to come out of that tunnel, but he didn’t expect to see little Ghost so soon. The stag they are riding slid to a stop, bending down to let the little warrior off. The stag spoke to him, Tiso didn’t catch what exactly, and watched the warrior wave goodbye as the stag took off down the tunnel again.

They turned and saw him and seemed just as surprised. They bounced a bit in delight and rushed over, waving.

“Hello to you too, little warrior. See? I’m perfectly fine.” Tiso gestured to himself with a grin. “Though I will admit, those aspids suck.”

Ghost nodded rapidly in agreement, going as far as to draw their nail and stomp a little. Tiso laughed.

“No worry, If you’re going up I have thinned their numbers a bit. Seems like having a big gross abdomen makes it easy for someone to cut you down. It’s the perfect target! You can’t miss!”

Again Ghost nodded in agreement. Remembering that he couldn’t understand those weird hand sign things, they took out their journal and pen once more. It was once of those fancy ones that held the ink on the insides but still needed refilling from time to time. They hopped up on the bench to join him, there was plenty of room after all.

“So,” Tiso began, “What have you been up to?”

“I’m trying to figure out a way past the fungal wastes.” They wrote. Tiso could easily look over their shoulder so they didn’t have to keep turning their book around.

“Fungal wastes?”

Ghost chirped, which absolutely did not make Tiso jump a little. They were just, so quiet. They were obviously mute but he didn’t expect them to make sounds. Tiso hid his reaction and watched as they fucking reached inside themselves again and pulled out a map. They opened it up, showing an incomplete map, each section in a different colored ink. Tiso whistled, impressed.

“You did that all on your own?”

They shook their head and wrote out. “Cornifer sells basic maps. I find all the hidden stuff.” They gestured to the various lines on the paper. Some of the ink was newer than others, which meant they back tracked and found new places. They even did little doodles of interesting things they saw. The sheer amount of drawn spikes and thorns make him question just how much fun he’s going to have traversing some of this kingdom.

“That’s still hella impressive for such a little grub.” He teased. He was arrogant, but he could recognize talent. “Maybe if being a warrior doesn’t work out, you could be a map maker in the future.”

Ghost just held their map for a moment, seemingly lost in thought. It looked like they wanted to write something, but passed it up to put on a more cheerful demeanor. “It’s nice you think I’m that good.” They wrote.

“Heh, I can recognize talent. By the way, since you’ve been all over the place, have you figured out where this arena is?”

“I hear that it’s called the ‘Colosseum of Fool’s. It’s somewhere near the City of Tears, I think.” They make sure Tiso read what they wrote before drawing a line with a claw from the stag station where they sit to somewhere east. They had a place marked ‘Crystal Peak’ and ‘Resting Grounds’, so it was probably near those places.

“Thanks, Squib. You probably saved me a lot of walking.”

Ghost innocently pointed to the stag station’s bell.

Tiso shook his head. “Oh no no no, true warriors don’t convenience themselves like that! True warriors make it to where they go on their own efforts alone.”

He was so full of shit and he could tell that Ghost knew. He honestly didn’t’ want to be in any dark, tight spaces. He couldn’t help thinking of the colony he grew up in. How dark and how crowded it was. You couldn’t find a moments peace to yourself and cave ins could happen at any time. How close the walls were to each other. How you never knew when the ground would rumble and stones would start to fall. No sir, he won’t take the stag way.

Ghost gave them the ‘whatever you say’ look before they rolled their map back up and tucked it away again.

“Where the fuck are you putting all that?” Tiso exclaimed as Ghost also put away their book and pen. They only shrugged in response and then gleefully bounced away with a wave goodbye. He heard the patter of little feet, and then the shriek of a vengefly, only to hear the sharp slice of a nail and the silence after.

Hrm...perhaps this was a warrior after all?

Tiso leaned back, determined to rest a little more before continuing his journey. With how big this place is, he wasn’t sure he’d see the little warrior again, and something about that statement saddened him.

---

Tiso had no idea there’d be an entire lake this big in Hallownest. Sure, water in caves was common, it’s how the caves were made after all, but this was something else. He sat on the sand, a campfire crackling softly as a tiktik roasted on a stick. All around him were fossils of shells, creatures long since gone and lost to time. One made for a nice seat and he wondered a bit to whom it may have belonged to. Some water snail, maybe. The water was clean and clear enough that he could take a dip to rinse off the grim of travel and found it most refreshing.

It had taken him a couple days to make his way here. Some paths were blocked off, either to cave ins or rusted closed, so he had to improvise. Moving through the Resting Grounds was eerie. It was full of graves, yeah, but once you fight empty husks for a while, tombstones start loosing their spookiness. There he had run into another stag station and swiftly turned back around. He took another pathway he didn’t try and ended up here, at this lake.

He thought of all the empty houses along the way. He poked inside to take a look here and there and only took things that he needed. The dead weren’t going to use them, he was sure no spirit would begrudge him for taking a few spices or a blanket. It did make for useful places to rest, as he could just shut the doors and windows to keep out husks. But still, he couldn’t help but feel like a trespasser in this dead kingdom.

He mused on this as he poked at the roasting tiktik. It’ll be done soon and then he can eat and continue his journey. A warrior needs their energy after all.

He poked up his antenna as he heard a distant noise over the crackling of the fire. He turned and looked over the lake, watching a white dot in the distance grow steadily closer. Water kicked up around bent air currents as the figure flew just above the surface. When close enough, he spotted the horns.

Oh, it was them. Small world, huh?

Little Ghost seemed to spot him as well. As soon as they reached the beach, they cut off whatever power they were using to run straight at him. They were all waves and ‘smiles’, tilting their head up to look at him in obvious glee.

“Hello, Squib!” Tiso grinned, he wouldn’t admit it but he was glad to see the little bug. “Still in one piece I see?”

They nodded and gestured to himself.

“Yeah, told you I’d be fine!” He took a moment to poke at the tiktik again and caught a flash of light on metal. Little Ghost had drawn their nail and was holding it out for Tiso to see. Oh, it seems like they got a new one, or they fixed up their old one. The other was dull, and this one had a soft pale light to it. Nothing fancy so far, but he could tell it was sharper.

“Nice.” He was impressed. “But I’m a shield guy. I don’t know much about nails other than that you shouldn’t get stabbed by them.”

The little bug ‘laughed’, huffing air in amusement as the reached over and pointed at his shield. They looked at it, and then back at him, titling their head.

“Sure, you can look, but be careful, because it can do this.” He attached his shield to his arm and squeezed his hand just so. There was a click, and the sides of the shield unfolded into blades, a perfect circle of pain. Ghost vibrated in response, the dark eyes within their mask shining brightly in the light of the fire. Tiso grinned and flexed again, withdrawing the blades to make a normal shield again. “And that, is how I deal with aspids. It can also come back when I throw it.”

He wasn’t sure why he was telling this to Ghost. Weren’t they going to fight sooner or later? If so it would be best to hold his cards close to his chest and keep his surprises as surprises. But there was just...something about this bug that made him want to talk about the things he knows. They were paying rapt attention, eyes scanning all the details made in the shield. Bugs that only wielded shields were not very common, he had found, so maybe they just never seen something like the one he has before. Maybe he wanted to be the one to cause the air of wonder and awe in someone else.

Maybe he just wanted a bit of attention that didn’t result in getting bruises.

Ghost touched the shield gently with a paw, feeling the metal a little before they withdrew, satisfied. They nodded their approval and sat down, looking up at him expectantly.

“Oh? What’s this? Do you want tales of how I used this shield?” A giddy happy feeling welled up in his chest as Ghost nodded rapidly. They moved their hands, signing a word he didn’t’ know how to understand. He could figure it either meant ‘thank you’ or ‘please’, either way they were polite. They shuffled and got comfortable and watched Tiso as he began to talk.

Tiso talked for so long that he forgot all about his tiktik.

–

Tiso sat on the bench, the roar of the crowd above him shaking loose the dust on the ceiling. It fell around him in motes of light reflected from the fires in the pit. There were other warriors there too, waiting their turn to engage in the carnage above. So this was the Colosseum of Fools. A crowded arena where a corpse sat as the seat of honor, empty gaze watching as the combatants did their damndest to kill each other. Geo was rapidly exchanged between hands as fighters either won, yielded, or died. Most died, but so it was in the way of the arena. He had taken time to watch to get a scope of what he was dealing with and concluded that the bugs in this kingdom were fucking insane. He was not used to this style of games, but he supposed he’d have to learn. He met the little fool chained up and dangling from the ceiling. He paid his fee and waited for his turn in the pit. There was a shriek above, and something big slamming into the ground. He imagined that he could expect to fight more beasts than warriors.

What he was not expecting, was little Ghost to jump down into the pit.

“Hey, you made it!” Tiso couldn’t help but exclaim as Ghost ran over to climb on the bench as well. “This is the place for us, I can feel it. There’s finally a challenge for me here.”

Ghost nodded, and in a flash held their journal and pen. “Are you doing the trials?”

He snorted, “Of course I am, and you?”

“Not yet, just exploring.”

“Hey what, are you afraid of being paired against me?” Tiso tugged his hood a little, smoothing down his antenna to try and stifle the intense smell of infected hemolymph. For a moment, he felt a flash of relief at Ghost’s prior statement. He didn’t quite believe that this bug was an adult, but they seemed to be a good sort. Did they really need to do this, taint their soul with battle just for the glory of it? For a bug like Tiso, he was okay with it. He was okay with it ever since he found himself alone with only a shield to protect him and bad memories to keep him company. He had to get tough, but did this little being who asked him for stories really need to get tough?

They shook their head as their shoulders shook with mirth. “No, I have things I have to do. I’ll fight you later and I’ll make you the one scared.” Their shoulders kept shaking, so Tiso assumed this was all said in jest.

“Bold words from a little shit.” Tiso was interested in seeing just what they can do, but later in a spar. Away from a place like this. This wasn’t a place for them.

They nearly rolled over, chirping in laughter and getting strange looks from the other waiting combatants.

Tiso rounded on them. “Mind your fucking business.” He snarled, and the combatants averted their gaze to go back to polishing their weapons. Good.

Ghost took a few deep breaths to calm themselves down. “You don’t have to be mean.”

“Sometimes you gottah be mean.” Tiso countered. “If they tried to throw you out or something, I would have cut off any limb that touched you.”

Woah, where did that thought come from?

Ghost looked at Tiso for a moment, really looking at him. Tiso felt like those eyes could see into his very soul and he suppressed a shudder. Ghost looked back to their book and wrote again.

“Why?”

Tiso gulped, time to bullshit and fast. “Well, because we were practically destined to battle each other. Hell, we keep running into each other in this dead fucking kingdom. What are the odds of that? What are the odds of both of us, meeting multiple times, and then meeting up here? It’s destiny!”

They tilted their head.

“If we are going to have a proper spar, none of us can get hurt before then. We have to be at 100%, right? So I won’t let anyone lay a claw on you until then.” There, nailed it.

They nodded and tapped their pen against the bottom of their mask in thought. They took a while to write, in which Tiso glanced around to make sure the other combatants weren’t about to get bored and try to pick a fight. Finally, they tapped his arm and showed him what they wrote.

“I understand. That means you have to promise to be okay until then.” They gestured above as more dust shook loose and rained down in a shower of gray. The crowd roared again, along with the sounds of something big screaming.  

“Sure, I can do that. If I break my promise I’ll give you five thousand geo.” This was a prop bet for sure. He didn’t have that kinda money yet, he’d have to earn it in the arena. But he was confident in his abilities, he would be fine and he’d be able to take off time to have a proper spar with his little companion friend buddy fellow warrior.

They nodded and held out their hand, which he took and shook. Gods, they had such little paws. “Good doing business with ya, Squib.”

They did their odd version of ‘smiling’ again. “I got to go, gonna try and go up more.”

“Good luck with that.” Tiso watched them put away their book, and with a hop, skip, and a jump, vanished up the pit. He had time now, to sit and sort out his feelings. He had that weird ‘big brother’ urge, and it wasn’t because they were so small. Nah, this person listened to him and liked him. He figured he can try and do the same.

---

Tiso was in a world of hurt, agony seeped into the broken crack in his chest. Hemolymph kept flooding his lungs and dripping out the corners of his mandibles. There was a fog around him in his mind, his barely open eyes blurry and seeing only smudges of green and blue. Flecks of white occasionally crossed his eyes before vanishing again. He had long since given up on trying to move, each pull of muscle only made the hemolymph flow faster. He struggled to recall what was happening as the pain moved in and out, like it was happening to someone else.

Breathe in. Breath out. Breathe in. Breath out.

The only thing he can do was just lay there and breathe wetly. Each breath he had to mentally will and it took up all other functions for now. He had no mental power to spare on anything else, so when a bigger fleck of white took up his vision and didn’t leave, he had no clue what to make of it. What the hell? He took a breath, momentary forgetting too when he pondered the white. A cough tore into his chest and he could feel the broken edges of chitin rubbing together. Something was touching him. Something was trying to get his attention, but he couldn’t spare the thought.

Breathe in. Breath out. Breathe in. Breath out.

The white vanished suddenly and Tiso found himself unable to bring himself to care or wonder about it. He had to keep breathing. Something deep and hot within himself had refused to give up. He had something to do that was very important and he couldn’t miss it. He wouldn’t. The weight of his shield was his only current comfort. Just as suddenly, the white appeared again, with a flash of red and gray. He peered at the smudges as distant sounds tickled his antenna. Was he underwater? Why couldn’t he understand them? A flash of pain and suddenly his world twisted. Colors spun around and around and it made it hard to concentrate on breathing. More sounds. More pain.

Breathe in. Breath out.

Breathe in. Brea-

It seemed like only a second and he was consumed in fire. A burning ache spread over himself as he saw only darkness. The darkness and a shriek as round orange pustules throbbed and vibrated. The sickening sound of hot fluids spilling and the nasty pop as pustules burst in a shower of gore. He was there. He had his shield, as a giant thing of teeth and screams jumped into the arena. He could barely raise his shield and then there was so much pain.

Trapped. Trapped like the fallen tunnels as the air got stale and lungs burned. Instead of the cries of the dying there was the roar of a crowd.

Take my breath, his sister had said. A little tiny thing with a tiny heart. A stone had hit her. The cave was too crowded and there wasn’t enough air. She was dying. Tiso couldn’t move the stone or she’d die faster.

Take my breath, she said. Then she breathed no more.

She always wanted to be a warrior.

She wanted to help people.

She never got to grow up.

You wasted her breath, the mawlurk shrieked as it fell toward him. You wasted it. You wasted it to die like a Fool!

Then was falling and falling and falling and falling an-

He felt cool hand in his, so tiny and small. They held on tight and Tiso stopped falling.

---

Tiso cracked his eyes open, still blurry and still in pain. He felt odd. The pain was there, but a large portion seemed locked away, just barely felt on the surface. He felt a hand in his, and with a colossal effort he managed to tilt his head to the side.

He was in some hut, on a bed, and holding his hand was the little Ghost. They must have felt the movement, because their head snapped around and looked on his eyes. A rapid flash of emotions, anger, grief, relief, joy, and others he didn’t have the ability to process, cycled through their very being. His hand was gripped with both paws now and a dribble of black welled up in their eyes to drip down their mask. Tiso wanted to say something, but it was taking a bit to remember how to do so. A large shadow fell over him, and he instinctively turned his head up to look.

Standing over him was an enormous beetle with a nail the size of Tiso himself. They looked down disappointingly at him.

“You must be Tiso, eh?”

He could only nod in response.

“You have to be the luckiest bastard in this whole dead kingdom.” The beetle moved over to a table, clinking glasses together and pouring some liquid. “You landed in just the right spot for Ghost to find you and close enough for me to come get you.”

He returned and handed a glass of water to Tiso, waiting for him to grip it before letting go. “I am Nailmaster Oro and you are here because my pupil insisted. You are going to be bed ridden for a while. Be glad I am more patient than my brothers, because after a whole week of putting you back together, I’m going to be glad when you leave.”

Tiso gratefully took the water and sucked it down, letting the liquid cool his dry throat. Once hydrated, he looked down to the ocean of bandages covering his front and one of his arms. His shield lay tilted against the bed, in arms reach. A whole week was gone, just like that. Oro must have felt the questions in his mind, because be continued to talk.

“You nearly got crushed to death, you goddamn idiot.” Oro tutted, looking over the bandages with the bedside manor of a primal aspid. “The Colosseum of Fools is just that, a collection of fools looking to die for no good reason.”

Tiso opened his mandibles to retort but only managed a wheeze. His lungs felt particularly awful and Ghost patted their hand in sympathy. Ghost let go just long enough to run over to Oro, tugging on his cloak. Once Oro bent down, Ghost gently embraced as much as he could, which wasn’t a lot. He saw Oro sigh with the tiniest glimpse of affection, before roughly patting them on the head. He glanced back to Tiso, and scowled when he realized that the ant saw the whole thing. Ghost stepped back to return to Tiso, taking his hand again.

“You’ll be okay after a bit of healing and time in the hot springs.” Oro went to squat by the fire, stirring something that smelled wonderful in a pot. “But I hope you found what was so damn important up in the coliseum.

Yes, Tiso thought to himself, I did find something. He looked at Ghost in a new light, and smiled as best as he could. They couldn’t replace her, but maybe, he could learn to not be a colossal fuck up. Maybe in that way, he can be okay with himself.

Ghost patted Tiso again for a bit and then reached in their ‘whatever’ space to pull out a pre-written piece of paper. Seeing what was written on it made Tiso almost want to take back everything he had just thought.

“You owe me 5000 geo.”

[pl-panda]

To Marry a Vigilante: Part 5

MASTERLIST || First || Previous || Next

-------

By the time the class landed in Gotham, Marinette and Chloé had enough. Their recorders, which were supposed to serve as damning evidence of blatant bullying, got ‘damaged’ when Lila accidentally splashed the two girls with a drink. Whatever it was, it was sticky, didn’t wash with water, and also ruined their hidden dictaphones. 

Of course, the liar made it look like it was Marinette who tripped her. The class almost hounded her, but they kept their distance not wanting to also get their clothes dirtied. Of course, Lila was occupying the bathroom for the next fifteen minutes, so when she finally left the drink already dried, making it even harder to get rid of. 

When the girls made their way out of the plane to meet with Sabine and their teacher, Lila pushed past them and came crying about how rude Marinette ruined her outfit, which was supposedly incredibly expensive. None of the intelligent people bothered to try and point out that it was cheap mass-produced junk. Alix was visibly conflicted, but also did not speak up in the end. 

“Marinette. I expected better of…” The teacher started, but then she saw both girls were hit worse than Lila, who cleaned most of it in the bathroom. 

“Sweetie…” Sabine started to rethink if a simple murder wouldn’t solve their problem.

“Don’t worry Maman. I can probably salvage it once we ret… get to Damian’s” Mari corrected herself. Luckily, it seemed like nobody caught her slip of tongue. 

“Ugh! Not that creep.” Alya complained. “He gives me shivers.” 

Mari glared at her former friend. She wanted to say something, but her teacher urged them to move. They were put into a small lounge. Marinette, of course, had to run them through a safety course, for reasons. She still did her best, as Gotham earned its reputation as the World’s Capital of Crime. 

When they were finally cleared and the class left the airport, there was a bus waiting, ready to take them to the hotel. Marinette and Chloé were about to board when a limousine pulled next to them. 

“Angel, Bourgeoise…” He greeted the girls. “Since you’ll be staying with us, my father decided to send a proper escort.”

The class stared in disbelief. The guy with a sword was loaded? It definitely looked like it from the car. 

“I bet his gramps just works as a driver and borrowed his work car,” Lila whispered to Alya and suddenly everyone was repeating the lie. “Or maybe even stole it…” 

A blade was suddenly pressed into Lila’s neck, a hair width away from drawing blood

“Tt. I will tolerate many things, but if you try to insult Alfred one more time, your end will be painful.” The class backed away in fear. Marinette immediately went to try and drag the boy away from a very pale Lila, but he wouldn’t budge. “Am. I. Clear?”

Lila was too paralyzed to answer, so he pressed the blade further. Now it was in contact with her skin and a moment of inattention could have fatal consequences. “Am. I. Clear?” He seethed.

“Yes…” She managed to whisper. 

“Tt. Good.” He sheathed his blade just as two security guards came outside to check the commotion. 

“Arrest him! He tried to murder Lila!” Alya immediately screamed. 

“No. If I did, she would be dead. I only explained certain values.” Damian deadpanned. 

The two guards looked between the class and visibly angry Damian Wayne and scratched their heads. They could report it, but they only had the word of some foreigners against the word of the son of the First Citizen of Gotham who was also the fifth richest man in the world. The cameras here stopped working, hence they came out to check what happened. 

“Children. We should be going or we’ll miss lunch at the hotel,” their teacher urged. That was enough for the guards. If the chaperone did not press charges, they wouldn’t bother. 

“But… But…” 

“Lila. Be a bigger person here and apologize to Damian.” Sabine grinned. 

“But he…”

“I don’t want to hear it!” The woman cut her off. “You must show our host some respect.”

“I didn’t…” The glare Sabine sent her and the murderous expression on Damian’s face made the words freeze in her throat. “Fine. I’m sorry Damien.”

“Tt.” Was the boy’s only response. 

Marinette and Chloé were about to leave when Rose protested. “Why are they not going with us to the hotel!?”

“Because as one of the host families, I’m allowed to welcome the students I choose to my house for the stay.” Damian did not care enough to elaborate more. Instead, he just jumped into the back seat of the Limousine. The girls followed, with Chloé going as far as sticking her tongue at the class. 

Once the doors closed and Alfred started the engine, Damian lowered the windshield and leaned outside. “By the way, it’s Damian. Damian W…” He didn’t get to finish because Marinette covered his mouth with her hand and dragged him inside. The windshield closed. 

When the car entered the main road, the girl finally let him go. 

“What was that about, Habibti?” He glared at her. 

“You were about to reveal that you’re the Damian Wayne.” She accused him.

“Tt. It’s time that liar learns who she’s dealing with.”

“It would only blow up in our faces. She would make it worse for all of us, including your family.” Seeing that both her best friend and her husband (still hard to get used to) were looking at her with no small amount of curiosity, she elaborated. “Damian Wayne is supposedly her ‘ultimate price’ from this exchange. She will want to sink her claws into you with all her skill.”

“Tt. She can try.” He huffed. His hand instinctively went to his sword. 

“You do know you are quite murderous for a Robin?” Chloé quipped.

“And you’re bratty for a lady.” 

“Bird-brain.”

“That’s Drake. Spoiled princess.”

“Daddy can afford it so why not? Trained monkey.”

“Grayson. Try harder. Talentless heiress.”

“I’m helping Marinette start her own company. Emo McBroodyPants.”

“Where did you even get that one?”

“I read.” She huffed. “And looks like I won.”

“Tt. As if.”

Marinette just sat back and watched her best friend and lover bicker there and back. It was nice that they were warming up to one another…

-----------

When Sabine finally arrived at the Manor, she was dead on her feet. Alfred was, of course, waiting for her at the entrance.

“Eventful day, Madame?”

“Don’t.” She cut him off.

“I assume it went worse than anticipated then?”

“Where is Tom?”

“Master Tom is in the kitchen. He decided to prepare some baked goods for the afternoon.”

Sabine stormed to the kitchen where she found her husband. He was clearly busy preparing the dough. After a quick greeting, she went to help him. 

“That bad?”

“Worse.” She sighed. “I really don’t understand that woman. How… She cut me whenever I tried to rein those monsters in.”

“Oh… Hand me the pin.” He interrupted himself. Sabine gave him the item, which she already had in hand when he started speaking. 

“I’m not sure if I can survive until school starts again. And even then there will be occasional afternoon trips. If it continues, I might just… I will get a jam. You did bring it?”

“I’ve put it on the counter,” Tom replied while still preparing the dough. “And don’t worry. I’m sure it’ll get better.”

“I hope so…”

---------

In the evening, Marinette, Chloé, and Sabine were introduced to the Batcave. It was indeed impressive, but Sabine was mostly interested in the training ring. She would lie if she didn’t want to test herself against the famous Batman. And she didn’t fancy committing crimes to do so. Well, for now. The class was making it more and more appealing.

“So you’re the girl that tamed Robin?” A redhead in a wheelchair rolled over to Marinette. 

“Tt. Shut up, Gordon.” Damian managed to spend a beautiful afternoon without any teasing from his family. Sadly, nothing could last forever.

“Come on baby bird. After the show you gave us on Christmas Eve, you can’t expect us to just drop it.” Dick was there, smiling cockily. 

“As much as I too want to tease that couple, I hoped for some sparring matches.” Sabine decided to save the teens. For now.

“Well, Madame, I’m happy to oblige.”

“Who’s with you?” She asked once Nightwing entered the ring.

“Um… I didn’t think you wanted a team match?” He replied, slightly confused. 

“No, no. I just thought I would have some challenge.” She smiled brightly. She was dressed in a dark-pink judoka and wooden sandals. 

“I… want.” Cass chimed in. She gracefully jumped into the ring before turning to Dick. “Alone.”

“Of course Sweetie. But I won’t go easy on you.” 

“Did not… expected.” 

The two women watched one another, neither moving from their spots. Both seemed relaxed but ready to react. Cass was first to start circling, with Sabine following. Neither could find any obvious flaws to exploit. Finally, Sabine lunged forward, only to jump to the side before getting in Cassandra’s range. The girl didn’t lose the bit and with a quick spin kicked her aunt, only to be deflected. Sabine tried to capitalize on the opening, but Cass followed her failed kick with another, launching herself in the air. Her target ducked low before trying to deliver an upper-cut punch toward the flying girl. It did connect, serving to push her back. She used the momentum to get some distance before landing on her hands and doing a double backward cartwheel and ending in a ready stance. 

“Not bad, Cassandra. I’m impressed. That boy would probably already be crying on the floor.” Sabine smiled genuinely. There was no need for banter between them. 

“Weakling.” The girl blew Dick a raspberry. 

Two women watched each other for a moment. This time, it was Sabine who initiated the actual fight. She delivered three quick punches that Cass blocked, but it created a small opening. She tried to deliver a side-kick to the girl’s head, but her opponent had the same idea. 

Their legs clashed by the shins. Sabine landed her leg firmly on the ground, but Cass once more lunged in the air, trying to use the momentum. She did two more kicks that her aunt blocked before she tried to put the older woman in a grip. Sabine, seeing the attempt, jumped back and tried to grab Cassandra’s hand, but instead, the girl spun around, delivering a powerful kick to Sabine’s side. 

The woman felt the kick, but she used the opportunity to timely grab her opponent’s foot and twist it. Cass, to avoid an injury, also had to spin in the air. She managed to attempt a kick before falling on her stomach. Her kick did force Sabine to let go of the foot to avoid having her head hurt. The girl quickly jumped on her feet, just in time to block an open-palm strike, which was followed with a kick. She did not get to respond, because Sabine made a low-sweep. Cass jumped in the air, only to find herself pushed away by another open-palm strike that, this time, connected with her chest, pushing the air out of her lungs. 

The woman followed Cass in the air, so she did not get a chance to stand up before getting pinned and rotated on her stomach. The grip that Sabine used effectively made it almost impossible to get out of before her aunt delivered a mock game-ending strike to her head. 

When Sabine stood up and helped her niece, both were panting heavily. It did not affect the accuracy with which the older of them made a back-kick, right below Jason’s belt. 

“Next time you try to sneak on either of us I will hit harder.” Sabine didn’t even bother to turn around and watch how the man curled on the floor, crying. “Good fight.” She focused her gaze on Cass, who blushed slightly.

“I lost.” 

“Well, depends on the criteria. You got the first hit, which is often decisive. And an achievement.” The woman cheered her with a broad smile on her face. Cassandra couldn’t help but also smile. “We could both use some more practice. I definitely would’ve taken you when I caught your foot and if you capitalized on the initial advantage you could’ve ended the fight.”

“It is an honor… training… with you.”

“Thank you, my dear. I also enjoyed it.” Sabine then turned to the gobsmacked group. The fight must have looked more impressive than she thought. 

“Did you just… defeat Cass in less than five minutes…?” Tim asked, unable to form a smooth sentence.

“Well, Sandra always said that I was the better one in unarmed combat. She does rock with swords though. And you should’ve seen her in that club in Tokyo. She’s definitely the dancer of the family, or rather was. I enjoy Cass’s ballet more.”

The great moment was interrupted by Batman speaking to everyone over the comms. 

“Suit up. We’ve got a hostage situation at Gotham Plaza.”

“For the love of Kwami… Please tell me it’s not my class.” Marinette groaned. 

“Tt. Of course it’s them.” Damian pulled his phone, showing her a live feed from the news helicopter. On the rooftop, there was a clearly visible group of teenagers, surrounded by goons with guns aimed at them. Near the edge stood a guy in a two-color suit. Half white and half black, with a red and black tie to complete the mad image. Half of his face was badly damaged and purple. 

“If Batman doesn’t show here to save his precious sidekick soon, we shall see if the little birdie can actually fly.”

Everyone who met Lila groaned. 

“I assume we can’t just let him deal with her?” Marinette asked hopefully.

“Sadly, Angel, it would be bad for our image.”

“I guess you’re right.”

“The two of you are sitting this out.” Batman walked into the cave, already in his suit. “We can’t risk any of them recognizing you two and it’s too early for Ladybug and Chat to appear. It would be too easy to associate their appearance with you two coming to Gotham.”

Seeing Damian’s irritated face, Marinette decided to intervene before she had a fight on her hands “Let’s do a movie night. I’m sure you have a theatre room somewhere in here.” 

Immediately, the boy brightened. “No Bourgeoise?”

“I think Chloé has other plans for the evening.” She nodded toward where the blonde was talking excitedly with Cass, trying to convince her to train her.

“Good.” Damian offered his hand and the two left the cave.

“Damn! I didn’t get the chance to tease him about the proposal.” Jason looked really dejected. 

--------

Masterlist // Next

[gay-otlc]

No Limits To Love

Summary: Despite being an Empath, Keefe doesn't know any of the answers. He's just as lost and confused as everyone else about love. What is it? he wonders. And is there a limit to how much I can feel?

Content warnings: Homophobia, polyamory discrimination (polyamphobia? idk), getting kicked out for being LGBTQ+, cursing, religion.

Words: 5350

Read on AO3:

As an Empath, Keefe knows that every person's emotions are so different, unique, but there are a few similarities that everyone shares. Everyone feels a little bit confused, a little bit lost. Even if the feeling isn't strong enough for them to notice, there's an underlying sense of it when he can press his skin against theirs and sense their emotions. And, regardless of how angry, how hateful, a person is feeling, there's always a deep, enormous, feeling of love within them.

No one really knows what love is; we're all lost, and confused, as searching for answers. We all have so many questions about it; What does it mean to love someone? How do you know when you love someone? Should we tell people we love them more often? Less often? Can you love someone too much? Can you never love anyone enough? How many people can you love at once?

And despite being an Empath, Keefe doesn't know any of the answers. He's just as lost and confused as everyone else about love. What is it? he wonders. And is there a limit to how much I can feel?

At first, Keefe has no idea what love is, nothing to even base a vague understanding off of.

His father says love is when you're proud of someone, and his mother says love is when someone is important to you, though neither of them seem particularly interested in helping a five year old Keefe solve all the mysteries of life. His father, telling Keefe to stop bothering him so he can work, doesn't seem particularly proud, and his mother, focusing more on whatever notebook she's scribbling in than on her son, doesn't seem like she considers Keefe particularly important to her.

"Why do you think loving someone means being proud of them?" Keefe asks. His father thinks this is stupid, he can tell, but it's important to Keefe. In his mind, this might be the most important thing in the world, discovering what love is. It's something new to learn, to explore, his favorite thing to do. He's learning so much about the world and how it works; how to read stories, how to draw people that look like people, how to write his name so that he can actually read it, and it seems like each new discovery brings on an entirely new set of new questions.

His father gives a long, over-exaggerated sigh. Keefe shrinks away. He's always not the best at understanding what his parents are thinking or what they want him to do, but he's learned by now that a sigh that sounds like that means his father is disappointed, and his father being disappointed is bad. "You can't love someone without a reason," he says finally, looking between Keefe and the door like answering will make Keefe go away faster. "People have to do things that make you love them, earn your love by making you proud. You can't love someone who disappoints you."

The underlying message is obvious, even to Keefe- if he doesn't make his father proud, if he disappoints his father instead, his father will not love him.

Oh.

He nods and quietly walks away to go ask his mother the same question, hoping his mother will be happier about it.

She isn't.

"Yeah, but what makes someone important to you?" he asks.

She flicks her eyes up at him before returning them to her notebook. When he tries to look at what she's writing, she tilts it away from him. "Someone is important to you if they help you with things you need to do, and you think your life would be very different without them." Keefe wonders what his parents' lives would be like if he didn't exist- probably much more boring, he concludes, but then again, they're shut up in their offices all the time anyway, they would probably do the same thing with only a few small differences.

He loves existing, all the new discoveries and experiences and fun, but him existing might not matter to his parents as much as it matters to him. He asks anyway; "Am I important to you?"

"You will be," she says quietly, finally looking at him.

Keefe goes back to his room to think about this new knowledge he's gained, about what love means. Who's right? Is there even a right answer? He dismisses the second question quickly- of course there is. Everything has an answer, and this can't be an exception. Maybe his father is right, and in order to be loved by his parents, he has to do things that make them proud, and never let them down; he has to do thinks much differently, then. Or maybe he has to help his mother. With what? Maybe he needs to get their attention more, make sure he's making a big impact on their lives.

Love sounds hard, and confusing. Everyone says it's a good thing, but he doesn't know. If love is a good thing, why does it make him so sad when he does the things his parents say will earn him love? Why do his parents say they love each other, and then scream at each other downstairs so loudly that nothing Keefe does can block out the noise?

Love isn't beautiful. It's ugly.

...

When Keefe meets Fitz Vacker, he has to rethink this decision.

Love may be ugly, but Fitz is absolutely beautiful. He has bronze skin and a strange accent and a loud laugh that makes Keefe feel like he's just bitten into an especially gooey slice of mallowmelt. Most of the time, he hears people talk about how beautiful the Vackers' teal eyes are, but he's particularly partial to Fitz's crooked slight smile, like he's a bit hesitant to be really happy, but something's broken through his walls and he's smiling anyway. When Keefe realizes he's the one who made Fitz happy enough to smile, it feels like it's worth more than a million compliments from anyone else.

This is stupid. Why is Keefe thinking so much about a boy's smile?

Well, it is a nice smile.

That aside, he's never really had a good friend before Fitz. He's had other children of prestigious nobles to spend time with, but none of them were ever really all that close to his own age, and Keefe had always preferred to daydream- or, if he was allowed, draw- rather than talk to them.

Having a friend is... nice.

It's nice, and something else. He's not sure what to call it, since it's all so new and unfamiliar. If he didn't know better, he might call it love, but this isn't love. This isn't anything like what his parents described, that ugly thing that makes him struggle for them not to hate him, that doesn't stop them from throwing things at one another. No, this is so much better, sweeter. It's not messy, or complicated, or difficult, it's just... him. And Fitz.

It doesn't need to be love. It doesn't even need a name. He likes Fitz, and he likes what they have together.

He starts spending more time at Everglen, with Fitz's family, and he notices something. They say "I love you" to one another. A lot. Della says it to her children before they leave for school, and Biana says she loves Alvar before she hangs up on an imparter call, and Fitz says I know you love me when Biana gets mad at him for stealing her ripplefluffs.

Keefe's first impression is that they toss the phrase around so often it's lost its meaning, but that might be wrong too. They seem to mean it every time. It's so confusing to Keefe- they say I love you even if no one did anything special to earn it, or even if one of the kids messed something up earlier that day. People in that family promise to love each other no matter what, a concept that doesn't make any sense, because what if someone doesn't do enough to deserve it? What then?

Fitz and his family celebrate something called Hanukkah. He says they light candles to remember miracles that happened when the Jewish people were in danger. And he invites Keefe to come light the candles with them.

"Are you sure?" Keefe asks. "I don't want to intrude on your holiday."

"No, don't be ridiculous. I'd be happy to have you there. It's a lot of fun, and you have to try latkes, and please, you have to help me beat Biana at dreidel, she's been unstoppable for the last five or so years-"

"I have no idea what most of the words you just said were... I don't understand any of your traditions, and I don't want to bother you guys by asking all these questions all the time." His parents are already annoyed by him, and he doesn't want to annoy anyone else.

Fitz reaches out and grabs Keefe's hand. Keefe gasps a little, cheeks heating up. Why is his stomach flipping around so much? They're just holding hands. It's not that big a deal. It's not that big a deal. "You aren't a bother," Fitz says, his voice soft but firm.

Keefe swallows hard, telling himself not to cry. "I-"

"I promise, I want you there. I wouldn't invite you if I didn't. And my parents want you there too. Honestly, the whole family loves you."

Love. There was that word again. The strange, confusing one. But it's not so strange and confusing when the Vacker's say it. It's not filled with expectations and disappointment; simply kindness, and happiness. It's not all that complicated. They simply care about each other.

And about him?

"The whole family?" he asks hesitantly, trying to ask whether that includes Fitz without actually asking whether that includes Fitz.

Fitz gets the message. "The whole family. That means me too."

And that's when he knows for sure that love isn't really ugly, because nothing between Fitz and him can really be ugly.

He goes to Everglen, and they light the candles. Keefe doesn't know the prayers, but they sound nice, and the candles feel warm and safe. Latkes taste delicious, and Biana beats them all at the dreidel game just like Fitz predicted. Keefe can't remember feeling this happy in, well, a very long time. Maybe ever. Fitz and Biana explain the story behind Hannukah in more detail, and Keefe finds himself especially interested in the description of the miracles.

It's a miracle he found Fitz, he thinks. A miracle he found love. And now, to him, love means kindness and warmth.

It's... nice.

...

Then he falls in love with Sophie, and that's... different, somehow.

He's had a crush on her for a long time; not immediately since he's known her, but since they rode on Silveny together for the first time. But if he tries, he thinks he can pinpoint the moment he knew he'd fallen in love.

They go to the Forbidden Cities- a city called Amsterdam. Not to run away from the Neverseen or go on a mission for the Black Swan, but simply to have fun. Fitz is busy with homework, but Keefe is happy to procrastinate, and Sophie's parents are trying to make her "have fun with her friends" more often in situations that don't involve almost dying. So here they are, Sophie rolling her eyes at Keefe's fifth "dam" joke, Keefe laughing as he looks at the elaborate canals.

"Come on, you idiot," she says, holding out her hand. Keefe takes it. "Do you want to go to the Van Gogh museum?"

"Who's Van Gogh?" Keefe asks.

Sophie starts walking, pulling Keefe along with her. "I always forget how little you guys know about human stuff. Makes it weird to have twelve years worth of human knowledge permanently in my head, none of which I can say without confusing you. Anyway, Van Gogh is an artist. I think you'd like him."

"Sure, sounds fun," he agrees.

A guy on a bicycle passes them. He calls something out in a language Keefe doesn't recognize. Turning to Sophie, he asks "What did he just say?"

Sophie's cheeks are red. "He said, what a cute couple."

"Oh," is all Keefe can say. Obviously it's crossed his mind, the thought that it might be a date, but... do they really look that couple-y from an outside perspective? He thinks about it. They're holding hands, her enthusiastically pulling him along, both of them smiling... yeah, it makes sense that they would be perceived as a couple. The idea makes butterflies fly through him, nervous and embarrassed and excited all at once.

He likes her, a lot. And he likes what they have together, this state of holding hands and teasing one another and having fun. It doesn't need a name. But it would be nice if it did. He would really like to say it for sure, they have something romantic going on. He wants her to be his girlfriend, him to be her boyfriend, and Fitz...

He wants them to date, that's all.

Keefe swallows. He likes what they have right now, and he knows he's about to create a new thing- something new, and unfamiliar, and terrifying. Admist the fear, though, he can't wait to explore it. "Is he right?" he asks.

Sophie bites her lip. It's the cutest thing. "Do you want him to be?"

"I do, yes," Keefe says.

"Then I do too." Sophie smiles at him, and he smiles back.

It was as simple as that.

They continue on to the museum. As Sophie predicted, Keefe does like the paintings there, but he tells Sophie he thinks he could do better. Later, she casually mentions that Van Gogh cut off his ear and laughs at the expression on Keefe's face. Once they leave the museum, Sophie finds some human money that Dex gave her and the two of them struggle for a while to convert it into whatever currency Amsterdam uses- it's still baffling to Keefe how the humans all use different types of money, though Sophie just shrugs when he points it out. Finally, they figure it out and Sophie buys them a boat tour.

By the time they're ready to go back, it's dark out, and they're going to be in so much trouble if they get caught, and dam, that was a lot of fun. Keefe throws an arm around Sophie's shoulder, absentmindedly playing with the ends of her hair, as they leap back. Every time the floor creaks a little too loudly, they freeze and look at each other with wide eyes before carefully continuing.

After too many close calls, they make it to Sophie's room. "That was terrifying," Sophie gasps, collapsing on her bed. "My parents would have murdered me. And you. They definitely would have murdered you."

"Yeah, undoubtedly," says Keefe. He sits down on the bed next to her, face splitting into a grin. "We didn't get caught, though."

Sophie smiles back, and Keefe finds himself unable to draw his gaze away from her lips. "No, we didn't." Her smile grows wider, and suddenly, Keefe isn't staring at her lips anymore, he's staring at her eyes. They're sparkling, wide and enthusiastic, and a bit mysterious, like Keefe could stare into them forever and never learn everything. He wants to try. "I had so much fun."

"So did I," Keefe replies. And it's true- he had so much fun looking at art and learning that the artist cut his ear off, going through the city's canals and listening to Sophie ramble about everything she'd learned about the city. It was exciting, interesting. But then again, isn't every day like that, with Sophie? It doesn't matter whether they're illegally traveling to Amsterdam or working on Elvin History homework together- every conversation, every moment with Sophie is just as interesting, just as exciting, because he and Sophie are together.

He loves her. The thought crosses his mind, and he wonders why it hasn't before. It's so obvious, so undeniably true, that he knows he loves her as soon as he takes the time to think about it.

The only question in his mind is that love feels so much different with Fitz and with Sophie, but he knows he loves them both. Loving Fitz feels warm and sweet and kind, and loving Sophie feels like an adventure, a new world he wants to know everything about, terrifying and thrilling and exhilarating.

...

Maybe love is an adventure, or maybe it's kindness, or maybe it's ugly after all, but whatever it is, there's so much of it. He feels this strange, indescribable love for Sophie every time she blushes at his flirtatious comments, every time she trips and gives a slight chuckle at her clumsiness, every time she absentmindedly hums a human song under her breath as they do homework together. And he feels it for Fitz too, when his eyes light up any time he talks about baking, the little grin he does when he wins at base quest, when he tries to flirt with Keefe or Sophie and ends up an adorable, stuttering disaster.

He still doesn't understand why love feels so different when he's with Sophie and when he's with Fitz, but he's in love with them all the same. Both of them. He loves them both, beyond understanding, beyond words.

Other people wouldn't understand either. That's okay, neither does he. But he doesn't have to know why he feels this way to know that he does, because he feels it so much, so strongly.

They feel it too- for him, and for each other. Sophie tells them once, back when they were going through their "love triangle" phase, that she was sorry she couldn't just pick one. Keefe asked her why she had to pick one. After all, he loved both Sophie and Fitz, and he didn't ever want to choose, because he didn't have anyone he loved more. He just loved them both. Fitz had agreed. He asked how this would work, the three of them all loving each other.

That's the great thing about us, Keefe had said. We don't have rules. We can just fall in love, hope our love will endure even if we mess it up the first time, and make it up as we go along. We're in love, and that's all that matters.

And he very distinctly does not feel love right now, wearing an ugly suit instead of the long red dress Biana bought with him. His father looks proud of him, or at least not disappointed, but he's learned that love is so much more than that by now, and his father may never truly love him. But that's another mess that he doesn't want to get into now; first, he simply has to survive the night.

Then, the argument that will inevitably come after.

But first, the dance. He's already fought with his father for hours about whether or not he had to get a matchmaking list, but he eventually lost. Like Cassius said, he'd already disappointed the family enough; by being a screwup, a rebel, a wayward, an artist. Does he really want to push things even farther, drag their reputation even farther down, by being a bad match? He gave in after that, still fully intending to barely learn the names of the girls on his list.

He just wants this night to be over already.

But no, another girl is coming over, and he has to at least feign interest as he mumbles pleasantries. He does this again and again. Some part of him, a small part that still foolishly believes his father might love him if he makes him proud, wants to feel something for these girls, but... he can't. They aren't Sophie. They aren't Fitz. He isn't interested.

The most interesting thing that happens the entire dance is Stina coming over and asking if he knows whether Marella might be interested in her. The answer is yes, but that's the only two minute conversation he can even begin to care about during a three hour dance, and oh, he is so bored. His only break from dancing and talking to girls is when he gets to eat. Keefe finds himself staring at some of the pastries in the corner and thinking of the time Fitz tried to teach him to bake. He was horrible at it, but Fitz thought it was funny, and they had a lot of fun together... he sighs and goes back to dancing with another nameless girl who isn't Sophie or Fitz.

He knows, that if an Empath were to gauge his emotions, they would feel the extreme feeling of love that's always inside everyone, he knows that logically, but feels so void of it right now. Everything is so boring, painfully dull, and there are so many people he doesn't care about, and he just wants to curl up and watch human movies with Sophie, or try to taste the batter as Fitz swats his hand away, or ramble to both of them about his latest painting.

He just wants them, both of them.

Finally- finally it's over, everyone's leaving, he thanks them for coming even though he wishes they hadn't, and then they're gone, and he can't change out of this ugly, uncomfortable suit fast enough, collapse on his bed and hail Sophie and Fitz.

Before he can, he hears a knock on the door. "Go away!" he calls, not in the mood to interact with his father. Especially not to discuss which of the girls he liked best. The door swings open anyway, and he groans.

Exactly as he predicted, Lord Cassius sits on a chair beside Keefe's bed and asks "So, did any of the girls there capture your fancy?"

He groans again. "No. You know they didn't."

"Of course they didn't," he mutters, sighing and rubbing at his temples. Keefe bites his tongue in an attempt not to yell I do have people that 'capture my fancy,' it's not my fault you can't accept that. "We can apply to get you a second list in a month, but I don't want you choosing anyone from a list that isn't your first or second."

"That works out. I don't want to choose from a list that isn't my first or second. I also don't want to choose from a list that is my first or second. I don't want to choose from a list." Keefe immediately regrets blurting that out, but it was nothing his father didn't know already anyway. The problem is that now he's confronting it, instead of saying he'll be the obedient son his father wants and marry someone he'll be miserable with.

"Well, you're going to have to."

"Why?" Keefe demands. "Why do I have to follow this fucked up system?" He sees his father frown at the language, but can't be bothered to care. "Why can someone else decide who I'm allowed to love- they don't know what I feel. Why do I have to marry someone from a list? Why can't I just marry the people I love?"

His father's gaze darkens. "People?"

Oh, shit. Keefe has screwed up. He has two options- correct himself, which his father probably won't believe, or dig a deeper hole for himself, jump off a cliff and hope he doesn't get hurt too badly. He chooses the latter. "Yeah, people. Sophie and Keefe."

"You can't be in love with both of them."

"Yeah, but I am."

"And not only are they both nearly as stupidly rebellious as you are, one of them is a boy. It's like you're trying to disgrace this family as much as possible."

"Well, it may shock you to learn, but I'm in love with these people because... because I love them. It has nothing to do with wanting to disappoint you and everything to do with wanting to date them."

His father stands up abruptly, towering over Keefe. "You have to choose."

"Great. I choose them both," he replies, standing up as well.

"You can't love more than one person!" yells Cassius.

Keefe clenches his hands into fists, feeling his throat close up. "Why not?" he chokes.

"You just- it's wrong. It's wrong for a boy to love a boy, and it's wrong to love two people! You're being greedy. Choose one, because you can't love them both."

"Fucking watch me!" Keefe screams. "You're an Empath- you understand how love feels to other people. I can sense so much love inside of people, every time I touch them, so much that it's overwhelming- especially if love is the prominent emotion they're feeling at the moment. There's more love than our brains can possibly comprehend. Love stretches to infinity, it is everywhere, it is everything, and we don't have a limit to our capacity for love, because there can be no limits to love, none at all. I love so much and so deeply that it can feel like I could drown in my love for them, both of them. My love is endless and overwhelming and beautiful, and I love them both with all the love in me. It's as simple as that."

...

"You can believe whatever you like about love," Lord Cassius says, giving him a cold look. "But if you are to live under my roof, you will have to love like a normal person."

He says it like it's an insult to not love like a normal person, like Keefe doesn't already know. Of course he doesn't love like people normally do, but why is that bad? Really, all forms of love are so unique, and there's no one normal way to love, anyway. But even though his way of loving is more different, that isn't bad. That isn't ugly. It's love, and it's everything, and it's beautiful.

Then, it registers that Keefe cannot love beautifully and live in his house at the same time. There's no way he'd be able to stop loving the way he does; that would be like asking for his heart to stop beating at all. There is so much of his love, and he cannot pretend he feels less.

So... his only other option is to leave.

"Can I pack, at least?" he says finally.

Lord Cassius looks surprised that he hasn't managed to threaten Keefe enough, properly scare him into being the straight, monogamous, obedient son he wants. For a brief second, his shock is written on his face, and then he regains his composure. "Very well, I suppose you can," he says. "You have ten minutes. I want you out."

Good. Keefe wants to be out as well.

He never wants to be back here again.

"I can't wait," he spits out. "You have zero minutes to get out of my room."

The clock is ticking, and Keefe doesn't have time to think, to even being processing the reality of what just happened, so he throws important things into bags as quickly as he can, trying to think only of the next second ahead of him, and the next, and the next, because if he keeps looking directly ahead, full understanding of what this means can't catch up to him, and he can't worry to much about the future. And then ten minutes pass, and he leaves.

He just... leaves.

When he leaps away from his house- his former house, he supposes- he has no idea where he'll reappear. Then he sees the world come into focus around him, immediately recognizing it as Everglen. Where some of his best memories are, of lighting candles with the Vackers and talking about makeup and boys with Biana and falling in love with Fitz, over and over, every time that obnoxiously cute fool opens his mouth. Fitz is here now; Sophie is too.

It wasn't a conscious decision, but he wanted to come here.

His feet take off running until he arrives at the door. He desperately slams his fist against the door over and over until Della comes to open it, a look of concern on her face. "Keefe? What... are you alright?"

"Sophie," Keefe gasps. "Fitz. Please."

Della nods. "They're upstairs in Fitz's room."

"Thank you," he says, before ignoring the aching in his legs and rushing up a flight of stairs, down a hallway, and into Fitz's room.

Sophie notices him first, placing a hand of cards down on the bed and stumbling across the room over to Keefe. "What happened?" she asks, her beautiful eyes wide and scared. Fitz follows her, putting his arm around Keefe and leading him to sit down on the bed between the two of them.

"My dad kicked me out," he chokes out, voice breaking. Sophie immediately gives a little oh and wraps him in a hug. "I didn't know where else to go."

He feels Fitz put a hand on his back, suddenly shaking with sobs. Quietly, Fitz says "We're here."

Finally, Keefe pulls back from the hug. He furiously swipes at his eyes. "I don't know why he can't just understand that we're in love. That I can love two people, because I am capable of loving two people, because love is infinite and there will always be enough for each of you."

"I don't know why he doesn't understand either," Sophie says. "And it's fucking awful that he doesn't."

Fitz nods. "But the two of us understand. We know you love us both. Endlessly. And we love you too."

"Fuck yeah, we do," says Sophie.

Fitz's gaze softens. "I know it hurts right now. It feels like shit. And I'm not going to lie, it will keep hurting for a really long time. Maybe forever. But we're going to be here for you. We're here for you right now, and we'll be here for you when it randomly hits you all over again for the next few days or weeks or months, and we'll be here for you when the pain returns just when you thought it was gone forever, and we'll be here for you when you really do think you're okay again. Sophie and I are going to be here for you for the bad days and the okay days and the days where it feels like it'll never get better, and we'll be here for you for as long as it takes, and we're always going to be here for you."

Keefe is quiet for a long time. He thinks about how there is a deep chasm in him right now, an empty space. He wonders what it would feel like if another Empath felt it. Probably painful. But then he thinks about this hypothetical Empath feeling his emotions, and how much love they would feel. They would understand how much Keefe can love, how he can love them both. Because he loves them both so much. And he says as much; "I love you."

They wrap him into a hug again, and he realizes; he's been kicked out of the place he used to live, but he hasn't been kicked out of a home, because that was never his home. His home is this moment, this hug, these people. His home is the love he feels for them.

All those years ago, when he asked his parents what love was, they gave an answer. Love can be pride, and it can be a feeling that someone is important to your life. It can also be so much more. It can sometimes be ugly, yes, but it can so often be beautiful. Love can feel soft and sweet and warm, it can be kindness. Love can feel bold and thrilling and exciting, it can be an adventure. And love can be right now, on one of your worst days, when they promise to be with you through it all and offer you whatever comfort they can. Love is home, and love is everything. There are no limits to what love can be.

[popculturebuffet]

Ducktales: Terror of the Terra-Firmians!  (Lena Retrospective) (Commission by WeirdKev27): Launchpad Looses his Last Brain Cell and I Loose My Patience

Welcome back Weblena Warriors to the second part of my look at everyone’s favorite Emo Teen Shadow Lesbian Duck... and probably the only one but hey, semantics, Shadow Into Light, which was made possible by viewers like you, the ultra humanite and a commission from WeirdKev27. Picking up where we left off, we have our first episode that has a different intended order than airing order. 

As most of you probably remember, but some of you who joined later might not be aware of the broadcast order for the first half of season one is, in the academic sense, pretty fucked. It’s not Darkwing Duck’s entirely fucked by a web of badger spiders and a queen snake on top to make it some sort of train situation, but by just sorta airing whatever episodes they wanted to, Disney messed with the character balance so Huey got less focus, not that he got a ton of focus this season but still, as well as leaning into the episodes focusing more on the kids with less involvement from the adults which gave the wrong impression about the series. While it IS very focused on the triplets and webby, the show isn’t entirely about them, but as Frank has mentioned a few times, Disney Channel apparently has this WEIRD thing where they assume kids won’t like stories starring the adult characters. 

Yeah I’ve been wanting to talk about this for a while. Mostly how it’s so dumb I could swear Pauly Shore was an exec at Disney Channel. And he might be I don’t know what he’s doing these days and i’d like to keep it that way. For starters, the Scooge comics, while barely published in the US these days, are still popular globally and have appealed to kids and adults for generations and are mostly focused on him, with the kids in a supporting role and Ducktales, you know the thing your directly remaking here, was also mostly about him with the triplets supporting, if a bit less than the comics. Most of the Disney Afternoon was about adult characters, with any kids in side roles in the main cast. And it comes off entirely hypocritical of them to say this when the MCU is easily marvel’s biggest cash cow at the moment, and marvel properties have appealed to both kids and adults, like the duck comics, for decades. And if it’s because the marvel cartoons weren’t doing well , I’ll let you in on a little secret: Those didn’t do well because they looked bland and from what I’ve seen of them felt kind of bland, though I haven’t seen enough to fully judge. Kids LIKE adult characters as much as kid characters, and also like teen characters despite not being teens. Focusing on either is valid and while I LIKED Disney’s youth starring shows I also want another X-Men cartoon before I turn 50, and I bet kids would like that too, with the last one only failing because you bailed on it because you were throwing a hissy fit over fox having the movie rights, and do not get me started on that. Point is this argument is horse shit and should stay in the stables. 

So yeah I do think this episode came too soon and it’s placement effected it at the time and as such it dosen’t have the best rep with the fandom aside from the Lena bits and that includes me. The fact it was very early in the series and the characterizations hadn’t yet sunk in really hurt this episode in places but is it really that bad? Join me under the cut to find out

We open at the movies! Which scrooge apparently hasn’t been too since the 1930′s or seen any on video despite Della existing and being really stubborn. 

A rant for another episode. But the kids just got out of a Mole Monster movie, along with Lena, Beakly and Launchpad. Their reactions are as follows: Lena, Webby and Dewey really enjoyed it, Huey found it unrealistic... says the boy whose uncle fought a dragon made of gold a month or two back but we’ll get to that, and Louie was bored and felt it didn’t have enough of the ultra violence, kids these days it’s not about the gore it’s about the tension. And Beakly.. is just pissed Lena tricked them into seeing this and said it was educational. And the more I think about it the more this sounds like BEAKLYS fault than Lena’s. BEAKLY is the one who likely bought the tickets, who saw it was likely an r or pg-13 and who as we’ve seen HAS A PHONE, and ulnike scrooge probably isn’t so stingy she wouldn’t spring for a smart phone, so she could’ve just googled it, or whatever bird related pun is in this version.. gandered it.. yeah let’s go with that, gandered it, and SEEEN it wasn’t appropriate or walked htem out of the theater and ate the cost if she was that bothered by it. Sitting through a Horror Movie you didn’t research, didn’t pull the kids out of and dind’t bother to even check the poster for or use basic common sense is YOUR fault. And this could’ve worked fine, had Lena talk the kids into begging for it or had launchpad take them and have Beakly find out after, having driven to pick them up as she didn’t trust launchpad to take them home. Instead it makes the former super spy look REALLY stupid and feels really out of character for a SPY to not to do research. And it wasn’t like they decided on this later, Bentina being a spy was part of the character’s backstory from day one and its made clear as early as episode 2 in both airing orders. This is just lazy writing to justify the episode and I expect better from this crew. 

But an argument errupts between Huey and Webby over the Terra-Firmians, a hidden race of rock people living in Duckburg’s discontinued sewer system, allegedlys. So Lena suggest simply going down which gets a disapproving look from Beakly, despite you know this being their bread and butter, and the fact that if she had a problem with Scrooge not being involved.. she could just call him. Exploring fabled rock people is something he’d be into. I mean there’s a low profit margin but it also costs him almost nothing to walk to the theater or have launchpad swing around and pick him up. Just gas which given how much he pays for jet fuel isn’t a big ask. But Beakly soon gets distracted by Launchpad whose convinced the film is real and is attacking the poster a grim sign of things to come as while Beakly annoyed me in this one on rewatch, especially after realizing the above... Launchpad annoyed me both times and for VERY good reason we’ll get into. This provides a distraction and allows the trio to escape. Cue titles. 

After the title sequence, our heroes head deeper underground, there’s too much panic in this town... I mean props to Donald for trying something new but he really needs to rethink his cologne choices. Sex Panther is just.. not a good smell on.. anyone. 

So our heroes journey through the depths of the subway system, and we find out part of why Huey’s so skeptical, as he finds anything that isn’t in the Junior Woodchuck Guidebook to not exist, though the cracks in this already show as he’s added anything that does. We’ll get back to this later but as you can tell the basic dynamic for 24 minutes is Webby being a wholehearted True Believer and Huey being a Skeptical Sally. And Lena is just sorta “Eh gives me an excuse for shenanigans” about it. We also get a peak into webby’s mind as we see her notes .. which really just come off as Terra-Firmian fanfiction involving a war of succession between two sides, the terra’s and the firmies, something based on previous media, and also some doodles of a fictional candy called webby-dings and herself as a superhero, both things I want to see. 

But yeah the first third of the episode is pretty simple, just them journeying, the occasional shift in the firmament, and it’s not bad, and there are a few great bits: Huey nerds out about rocks, and finds them way more interesting than a possible rock monster.

Which leads to the best gag of the episode as when Huey tries to pick up a big sample Webby, annoyed at his hyperfixation on the JWG, asks him to ask his book for help.. which he does by reading it and actually manages to pick the large rock up. This is halted though when Lena screams.. though she really just did it to draw them to an abandoned subway car full of glomgold posters for glomgold products because of course a failed subway project has his name plastered over it. You can’t spell glomgold without failure.. the failure is silent. Glomgold is not. 

The fun is interuptted though by a livid Beakly who had realized they were missing in an earlier scene, after telling the Manager that McDuck Industries would pay for the poster.. and then found out Launchpad also destroyed the toilets “They come up thorugh the sewers!”. Launchpad that’s CHUDS, Ninja Turtles and Rats who raised Ninja Turtles like their own sons, mole people dig or use old mineshafts. It’s basic mole science. Also Beakly really shouldn’t sweat it, I just assumed the city has had a runnig bill witht he company for “McDuck Family and Employee Related Accidents, Mayhem and Shenanigans”. I mean he’s had Gyro on his payroll for at least a decade and a half by the series start, Gyro has leveled whole sections of city in an afternoon more than most giant monsters. Of which several have destroyed Duckburg. It got better. 

Point is she’s livid about them sneaking off with Lena pointing out their some sort of adventure family and Beakly.. saying she won’t see them again, or at least implying it hard. I’ll put a pin in this, as the train buckles and a bit of seismic, or rock men, activity means their stuck. So they divide into teams: Beakly will go try and unhook the train car from the busted cars so they can ride out, Launchpad will go try and fix it, and we get this lovely exxchange as a result

Launchpad: Cool never crashed a train before Beakly: Can’t you try driving it without crashing it? Launchpad: Wha? 

His face in that scene is priceless. He takes Dewey along. More on that in a second. Webby, Huey and Louie are told to stay put with Beakly only bringing Lena along because she dosen’t trust her. So since we have three split plots for a second... let’s split up gang, starting with the most aggrivating, middling with what you all came here for and why this is part of the retrsopective, and ending with the plot that directly heads into the final part of the episode. 

Launchpad and Dewey: GAHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH

Okay starting with the most infamous plot and easily the worst part of this episode, probably the worst plot in any Ducktales 2017 episode. That’s not hyperbole it’s really that bad and really pissed people off, as fans of the original launchpad felt they made him overly stupid. This is where the airing order’s a problem as putting an episode with a subplot where one of your characters is obnoxiously dumb right up front means they assume this is his charcter and not just one poorly written chapter in a very dumb but very loveable characters life, likely because the writers hadn’t figured out how to properly scale his stupidity with comptience. 

So as a result we get a good 3-4 mintutes if not agonizingly more of Launchpad assuming something he saw in a fucking movie film was real. That.. that’s his actual plot. Need I remind you, he’s in his late 20′s early 30′s. He’s not much older than me. While other episodes have him as dim this one claims he CAN’T TELL FACT FROM FICTION. 

There are lines you have to keep with your characters to keep the audience from hating them. They crossed it about 80 times with this plot and make Launchpad into a gibbering dunderhead who can’t do anything right versus a regular dunderhead whose good at one or two things and loveable enough for us to like him and not care about his numerous safey violations and child endagerment charges. Thankfully this is the ONLY episode that gets this bad and they clearly learned from this, but it dosen’t make it any less of a tough sit. 

Dewey spends most of the subplot with a look on his face that just screams that he’s as done with this bullshit as we are, as Launchpad assumes he’s a mole person and brought along a pipe to presumibly bludgeon him, because wanting to cave his best friends skull in over stupidity is a GREAT look> Thankfuly he does not. And when the lights come back on Launchpad.. assumes he’s a monster because of bright light, GAH, and locks him out before they end up outside and the plto resolves itself by Dewey pointing out by Launchpad’s utterly baffling logic that he could be a mole monster, so Launchpad.. assumes he is. 

The subplot’s later buttoned up as he claims “I love being a mole monster”, again diffrent subteranian creature launchpad, she says he’s not and my suffering is thankfully at an end. This plot just sucks, it’s bad, overly stupid and dosen’t work with an adult character. Someone like say Ed from Ed, Edd N Eddy, or someone who belivies in weird conspiracy stuff like Dale Gribble or Stan Pines. with either of them this plot would’ve been fucking great. I could buy it from Dale and it just comes off as his normal paranoid weirdness. With Launchpad it comes off like he seriously needs help because the episode frames it as if he can’t tell ficton from reality, and his splotlight episode later would directly contridct this and make this episode even more aggrivating, as he’s a fan of Darkwing Duck, and KNOWS it’s acted out by an actor, so why wouldn’t he get this? It’s just....

It sucks, it sucks and I thankfully get to move on to a better subplot

Beakly and Lena: What You Are in the Dark

Beakly tells Lena she’ll never see Webby again after this.. then chastises her when she won’t help despite you know having just said she’s going to force their friendship apart, which Lena points out. She then gets mad at Lena making a sarcastic comment at her. Okay she’s lived with Louie for at least a week in airing order and a month or two in actual order. She has to be used to this by now. She’s insolent.. because you show her no respect, blame her for something that while sure she talked you into, you should’ve known better, and top it off by saying you want to keep her from the kids because they have bright futures and come from good familes and asks who rasied her and her face.. well.

Yeah wheras Launchpad and Huey, more on that in a second, were hurt by this being some of their earliest big roles, Bentina wasn’t.. until later when we found out just HOW bad Magica is to Lena and how much she dosen’t care about her other than as a tool to use. At this point we didn’t know just how much Lena was playing webby, how much she was only manipulating her, and even with her heroic act here we didn’t know if she only saw Webby as her way to break free. The next episode makes it clear she dosen’t and genuinely does care, 100%, so in hindsight it makes Bentina come off as ghoulsih for horribly asssuming about a girl she dosen’t know, and even if she did know about Magica wouldn’t know the full story, just like us, and then BERATING her after already saying she’s going to rip her away from Webby, which itself is PRETTY bad as she’s the only friend the girl has and sh’es doing so on... talking them into a horror movie, which as I outlined was more Bentina’s fault than Lena’s, and leading the kids into a dangerous place whicha gain, Lena pointed out is something she lets Scrooge do. And trust me i know that she actually knows Scrooge, and we later find out, as we’ll cover next month, that she isn’t ware HOW dangerous things are with Scrooge. It dosen’t change the fact she knows they do dangerous stuff to a point and that Lena may just be acting out. It also dosen’t change the fact she drove three children, yes including launchpad, down here with her instead of sending them home with Launchpad.. granted that option isn’t the safest but it’s safer than taking her with them thena cting like it’s ALL lena’s fault when three of the children, again including launchpad, are down there because of HER. Not Lena, HER. I’m harder on her because she’s older, wiser and was “raised properly” apparently. Though given the way she treats a random teen off the street she again knows nothing about and dind’t bother to ask... it begs the question. 

IT’s a good question. I could see the classism coming from being raised in 40′s and 50′s britain, judging by the timeline.. but even then she’s seen the world, and while her nature is supscious, the classit bullshit makes no sense after presumibly working with, and later spymastering for, various agents of various backgrounds. How has she not dropped this in decades. Scrooge very clearly dropped the racisim and homophobia of his time, so it still stands  on her for not dropping this. And Lena’s hurt shows under hte mask for the first time, that beneath the snark and secrecy.. is just an abused teenager with nowhere else to go and no way out being bullied by an older woman whose cutting off the only light at the end of the tunnel nto for good reason but out of classist, overprotective mallice.  My issues, which to be fair probably were intentional in the episode but sitll are a bit overblown, aside we do get an absoluttley tremendous moment later as a car falls on top of Beakly.. and Magica, speaking once more urges Lena to leave her, let her die and let their plans progress. And while that iself is.. dumb, what if someone finds her or her corpse later, especially since Scrooge would likely perosnally want to retrive the body to give her a proper burial as she’s his only friend at this point, or the rest of the family questoin the story?, it fits Magica’s lack of foresight we see throughout the season. But Lena... saves her. While she later gives an explination, and a valid one at that, it’s clear from her expressoin, her actoins and how she does it... that this is her. Part of it is defiance, as she glares at Magica before doing it, her own stubborn nature mixed with her hatred of her “aunt”, meaning Magica just made it all too easy for her to do this. But the real reason is clear: It’s the right thing to do. While pissing off her aunt and getting away with it is the cherry on top.. the real reason is that unlike Magica.. Lena is not a killer, not a monster, and not a heartless vacum ofa person. Even if she doesn’t like Beakly, for good reason.. she can’t, she WON’T leave her to die and leave Webby an orphan again. She loves Webby too much to do that to her and while she may deny it.. she’s too good a person to leave someone to die for something so petty. Even if she never sees webby again and the plans ruined. It’s better than the weight of knowing she let someone who wasn’t trying to harm her and whose actions, while terrible, were out of misguided protection of her granddaughter, die like this. She saves her. And as we’ll see it pays off.. but before that. 

Huey, Webby and Louie: Into the Unknown This plot’s a bit shorter, as Webby and Huey continue their argument, with Louie eventually making it clear, and not even hiding it when directly asked by Huey, that he’s playing both sides with a delighted expression on his face as the movie was boring but this, this is interesting. Which it is. But it’s interupted by dings on the roof and while Huey assumes i’ts just a regular rock, it moves while their not lookiung.. and soon red eyed, horrifying beasts look out at them and the kids flee back to the car. This dosen’t pan out as the car starts to shake and is clearly going to collapse.. and while Webby and Louie are prepared to flee, rock monsters or no, Huey, in an utterly heart shattering image.. stays in place, terrified of moving. 

This is where this plot goes from mildly aggrivating, as Huey’s Skeptic shenanigans can get on the nerves.. to BRILLIANT. See at the time this was more annoying because it was assumed the skepticsim would be a part of Huey’s character and we’d get more episodes of him being annoying only to be proven wrong, as he semeingly dosen’t learn his lesson at this point, looging the terrafrimians in the guide book. But on rewatch.. this plot is amazing.  For starters the plot subtly introduced the defening characteristic of Huey’s personality, one that’s become more prounounced in Season 3: His need for Order. He needs things to make sense: He solves stuff because he likes there to be order in the world and something he can understand, he can put in a box in his head. Like a lot of neurotypical people, myself included, he struggles horribly when the clearly defined boxes of his life and things he undestand have wrinkles or complexities he can’t get. I for instnace easily got it when I was introduced to the concept of trans people or being non binary.. they just make sense in hindsight: given how our brains are messya nd complicated it makes sense some people would be born in the wrong ones, and tht with all the science and medicine we have to correct that, should be allowed to transition if they so choose. It makes equal sense that some people just don’t have a gender or are gender fluid, being both or neither. Despite struggling with non binary prounouns due to force of habit.. I get the concept with no real difficulty. But when it comes to accepting I don’t have to apologize for everything and that everyone is not angry or that anger is natural and people sometimes get mad and you can’t and shouldnt’ fix it.. it’s something I STRUGGLE with even knowing it’s not right, because my brain is just wired that way. 

That’s how Huey’s struggle comes off here.. he reveals he’s willing to stay and die.. because he’s SO scared of the unknown, that the idea of dying from something he at least knows what it is versus something he dosen’t.., so paralizyed by his own brain he can’t figure out the obvious.. it takes Webby reaching out to him figuratively and literally, to show him that sometimes you have to face the unknown. The unknown is fucking terrifying.. but it can be good and it’s better than sitting there, scared and unable to move. You have to try, to grow and take that risk that things may not go well to really LIVE. 

So he does.. and they reunite with the rest of the group.. and soon find the terrafirmains.. who as it turns out once we get some light on them... are actually just goofy looking,  brightly colored, each one matching one of the kids, kids themselves, and Huey reaches out and touches one, which by ET logic means their friends now, and the terrafirmians help them get out. And this lesson sticks. While sure Huey catalogues it and it seems it didn’t.. he’s never this skeptical again. This douchey skepticsim was only for one episode, his fear of the uknown replcaed with boundless curosity and from here on he’s CURIOUS about new stuff as long as it’s not trying to kill him. He loves taking in new experinces, maybe not to webby levels but he does actually try them and study them instead of just fearing them. 

Before we wrap things up, obviously we need to talk about the JWG not having entries on a lot of stuff. This would be corrected next season as it returns to being a big book of everything, but dosen’t completely contridct this as Timephoon! shows there’s stillcgaps.. which i’m fine with. While it knowing EVERYTHING was fine for the original series here, with things being slightly more groudned, it’d just be an obvious plothole if Huey didn’t use it every single time they ran into something and that’d get boring. Instead it’s simply that it dosen’t know everything, and really in the comics at times it didn’t and the triplets found out new things. It knew almost everything mind you, but having some gaps for dramatic tnesion is fine with me and Seasons 2 and 3 decided on that instead of just having it being a scouting manual which wa sfor the best. And even by later in the season hit has guides to getting a small buisness loan, so they already course corrected. 

So everything’s wrapped up and while Magica berates Lena for disobeying her.. Beakly interputps, thankfully not seeing magica and admits she was wrong and invites Lena for pancakes, even taking a crack about if their actually pancakes or english muffins with syrup, which sounds like my own living hell, in stride, having clearly grown. And Lena explains to Magica that this was the better approach: now she’s got the in theyw anted, and is above suspcison for now. Still not so much that an obvious act won’t be detected but enough that she dosen’t ahve to work actively around her anymore. Magica scoffs.. and while part of it is probably rage.. part of it is deep down both of them know she did it out of defiance.. and only Lena knows that she did it for the right reasons... she just dosen’t get why. She probably justifies it as playing the long game.. but deep down she knows something’s changing about her.. and she’s not sure if that’s a godo thing or not. 

Final Thoughts: This episode is as you can tell a mixed bag. It’s 2/3 of a good episode, with the Lena plot, my issues aside, being excellent and the Terra-Firmian plot likewise fun, even if Huey can get grating the payoff is worth it, and the jokes are really high quality. It’s just bogged down by that fucking launchpad plot that just crushed my soul in it’s palms every time it came back. I went on at length why i hated that one but boy oh boy was the hate of that subplot warranted and I stand by calling it the worst plot of the series. It is: it’s not funny, it makes no goddamn sense, and it drags down what’s otherwise a pretty solid epsiode.

Next Time on Lena: Jaws the shark, lurking in the dark, in the depths of the bin one day of a lark decides to get rowdy, get real violent takes a vacay out to Duckburg er.. Island.. also Scrooge faces his greatest Nemesis.. a PR Tour to clean up his image after an unfortunate giant Beanstalk Incident. Be there and be hip to be square. 

Next Time on This Blog: I Tackle a DCOM for the first time for another commissioned review as we take a look at racisim, specifically Apartheid and breaking indoctrination, with The Color of Friendship. See you next Rainbow. 

[mahou-furbies]

☕️ transformation items in precure!

Overall I’m more tolerant for dumb designs with transformation items than in weapons so most of them get a positive or at least neutral reaction from me. However some still scream “we would never have used a design like this if it wasn’t for the toys”.

Let’s go through them all!

Futari wa Precure

Simple flip-phone like designs for the modern girl in 2004. I think these are alright enough but don’t raise a lot of emotions in me. Not a fan of the mascots transforming into items, like does the phone become a part of their body, that’s just creepy. I’d prefer if it was made clear that the phone is a separate item and the mascots just shrink to be able to fit in it. I prefer the original designs, the upgraded ones look busier.

Uhh... I got nothing on this. I guess it’s nice that the new girl gets an item that’s a bit different but also similar to the ones we already have.

Splash Star

Still got nothing, it’s the same thing again. Good that they started using different ideas from the fourth season onwards. I guess I prefer the Futari Wa ones since these somehow feel too small. Nice light? But let’s just say that while it’s just fine to use phone as a base for the transformation item, there’s quite many of them on this list and in general they are a bit boring when you can’t do anything else with them than press a few buttons in the beginning.

Yes! Precure 5

Simple design but it works, usually black is a good idea. Though it could do with some buttons because now it doesn’t look you can do much anything with this. It’s a nice detail how the henshin starts with the lid of the clock opening and ends with it closing.

Now we’re truly in the 00′s with the flip phones. I like how the henshin starts with the lid opening, and the rose button is cute. But there’s not a lot to say about this one and it’s pretty boring.

My second least favourite Precure transformation item. What is this even supposed to be? Some kind of makeup case? In that case I’d rather have the colous be actual makeup and not buttons. The handle also feels stupid.

Fresh Precure!

This doesn’t even try to pretend it’s not a phone, it even has the number buttons. Actually were the transformation items originally the Cures’ phones? Can they make regular phone calls with this? I’d like to see that. But this is cute enough, I can imagine that a real phone like this could have been popular with little girls. But maybe it could do with some extra detail to look more weird, now it feels a bit too mundane to be a magical girl item.

Heartcatch Precure!

I’m not a huge fan of beauty products in little girls’ shows, but they do make a lot of sense in a transformation sequence where you get to see the characters “apply” the magic themselves, and the fragrance bottles make for some great henshin animation and also fit a flower-themed season. I also like the white-and-gold palette, makes it look more regal than the usual shock pink.

I forgot this one even existed. I really can’t muster any emotion towards it, KiraKira did the compact mirror thing a lot better.

Suite Precure

Why are the colours pink-white-blue-purple and not yellow? I don’t have particularly strong feelings for this one in any direction, I guess on its own it’s a bit boring when it doesn’t resemble any real item I can recognise and you can’t do much else with it than press the button at the bottom, but I also think it’s fine to have an item like that every once a while. However I think the little mascot creatures that are needed to use this thing are uncute and that lowers the overall points.

Smile Precure!

Another makeup item, another chance for the characters to do the transformation themselves. I love the little tup tup! sound effect that comes from this. Otherwise great, but it’s just unacceptable that the canon Cures cover 5 of the coloured bead thingys but we don’t get a red or purple Cure. False marketing I say.

Doki doki! Precure

The mascot-items are back and I’m still not a fan of this living-creature-turns-into-hard-plastic-device thing. It’s a phone, but it’s also too bulky to comfortably feel like one. But I really like how they spell L-O-V-E with the heart, I thought that was creative.

They tried to make Ace all cool and mature and then her transformation item is the most kiddy-looking TOY makeup box ever. Even if the merch is plastic can’d she at least have actual makeup in the henshin? And what’s with the button colours, sure they’re the team colours this time, but the other Cures don’t even use this item. 

Happiness Charge Precure!

The idea that the Cures can choose different cards to insert is a super fun one, and it’s also nice that they can use it for more mundane outfit changes outside battle scenes too. The writing around the cards is atrocious though but that’s another story. As for the design of the device itself, I think it’s pretty weak, it’s somehow bulky and not very memorable.

Probably my least favourite item from this bunch. The Piano is yet another unrelated thing that is shoved into HapiCha’s confused world, there is nothing about making music in the themes of the season, or Iona as a character. I hate that this thing is the culmination of Hime and Iona’s character arcs. Also the design looks really cheap and the animation where Iona presses a couple keys to get sounds that don’t even try to hide that this is just a toy for three-year-olds wastes time.

Go! Princess Precure

Another makeup item. At least perfumes fit the princess theme... But Go!Pri has the best henshin scenes in Precure, and the Cures applying the tranformation themselves plays a part in that. I also love how they start the transformation by filling the bottle with their theme colour, and the little twist they do with the key is a nice change from the usual button presses. And like with Heartcatch white and gold makes for a good regal colour palette. I think you could get an actual pretty fragrance bottle for grownups with this design if you did it with glass rather than plastic.

Also there are the keys which I love because of course I’m going to love collectible frilly dress items. They give each transformation and attack something unique and I like the bit where all the keys show up in a chain at the end of the henshin (and thankfully otherwise hidden under frills so you don’t need to draw them every time), and it’s nice to get the lock-and-key theme to the henshin as well. So once again Go!Pri is the best Precure at something and now gets the award for Best Precure Transformation item.

(god flora is so cute in this frame)

Mahou Tsukai Precure!

My bias that ever since I was a kid I’ve never really liked teddy bears comes to play here. The idea that the Cures don’t have a distinct transformation item at all is fun and the jewel theme is nice too, but I’m just filled with negative emotions whenever I see Mofurun... I haven’t seen MahouTsukai outside the henshin scenes so who knows if she’ll turn out to be my favourite character (and not just by process of elimination from me disliking everyone else more)

Not a big fan of this one, is it supposed to be a smartphone, or do they have some kind of smart notebooks in Japan? Either way it doesn’t really fit witches or flower fairies. All the little engravings are pretty and the flowers are cute, but overall this feels just random.

Kira Kira Precure a la Mode

Mixing the attributes the character represents with a magic whisk and then transforming by covering yourself with the whipped cream is a super fun idea, and also one of the few Precure transformations where the girls apply the transformation themselves that is not based on beauty products. Or I guess this is a pocket mirror too but whatever. The item itself is fun and cute enough.

However as those who saw my Ichika fanart a few days ago I really really really don’t like that they have to fiddle with the pathetic tiny q-tip of a whisk, give them one the size of a microphone so they can put some strength into it!

Hugtto! Precure

I love how you can twist the end to make a heart, if I had one of these I’d click it back and forth while sitting at the computer and the hinges would be busted in no time. The grey things at the edge of the screen could be some other colour, now they look a bit like they’re made of rocks. I don’t think this one does anything special but it’s just so cute that I have to love it.

Star Twinkle Precure

These are fun but a bit wasted on a season that has nothing to do with art. But otherwise A+ idea, very active participation from the girls when they draw almost everything in their new look, and it’s not makeup-based. Quill and ink bottle are the most magical writing apparatus so that’s very fitting, and thanks to the space theme we get some stars too so it’s not just the usual hearts. The pink tone is a bit gaudy.

Healin’ Good Precure

And we end on a weaker note with mascot items again. And these are my least favourites since to me they come across as if they have the dead-eyed animals’ decapitated heads sticking out of them. The paws also feel somehow unbalanced, and should not be pink for the blue and yellow items. The bottles feel tacked on too.

I feel that the mascots have been treated a bit better than average in Healin’ Good so I suppose it’s not bad that they get to be involved with the fights too (It’s nice that the item is also used as a weapon) but I would really rethink the design since now I don’t think the different elements go too well together and the result feels unbalanced. 

[nukyster-blog]

Changing course Chapter 10) Asbet Eshr, Fifth-Theen

.-.-.

Ivar still held a grudge against Piglet, but he decided that he’d stop scaring her. She was the most foolish fragile little creature and he could not afford the wrath of the Giant if she convulsed into a seizure again. For the rest of her day, he’d mainly ignored her and stopped yapping at her ankles. Piglet ignored him too, but Ivar wasn’t sure it was intentional. Whatever happened to her during those seizures, left her with a vacant stare and even though she tried, it was impossible for her to work properly. Using the rake for support, she zoned-out occasionally, allowing two chickens to escape and break an egg. Ivar noticed her struggles but decided to stay out of it, he had duties too and did not feel obligated to do any extra work. He no longer wished to charge at her, that should be a reward in itself. Ignoring her would keep him out of trouble and that was how he continued the day, keeping his hands off of her. 

As it turned out, tolerating her had its benefits; better food. That evening, Ivar received a piece of meat and an actual hot meal. It was nothing more than scraps of chicken and soggy mashed potatoes, but it beat raw onions by far. 

Ivar ate and silently observed her. Piglet was stitching up one of her rags, while the scrawny little lamb lay on her lap. The sun was setting, but provided enough light to make the needle gleam with every stitch she made. 

She was carrying a weapon around, small and brittle, but a weapon nonetheless. Interesting. Ivar stored that detail in the back of his head and wondered what more treasures she had hidden underneath those layers of clothes.  

His silent brooding did not go by unnoticed, bothered by his stern stare, Piglet frowned at him and scurried up on her bare feet. She shied away to her side of the shed, taking the lamb along. The prospect of another evening alone, cold and bored made Ivar chunk down his food fast, rattling his chains. “Piglet, I’m done eating, come here,” Ivar insisted, keeping his tone friendly and neutral. Tapping his bowl on the floor, he whistles as if to call a dog. Two dark eyes lingered around the corner of his box, startled by his unusual kindness. 

“Wahid, arbe, sitta,” Ivar struggled not to break his tongue on the three words he’d memorised from Piglet’s game. He picked up a chicken bone from his supper and tossed it on the floor. “Wahid, arbe, sitta,” he repeated again, nudging his chin towards the chicken bone. 

Piglet’s brows drew up, still skeptical about his sudden change of heart. “Oh c’mon Piglet, let’s play your stupid little game to pass the time,” Ivar whined and drummed his fingertips impatiently on the floor, “your God won’t judge you for playing with the enemy, nor will mine. They seemed to have deserted us anyway. Probably laughing their arses off as we speak.”  

Ivar wasn’t foolish to believe that any of the words he said meant a thing to Piglet, but as strange as it might seem, it was nice to hear the sound of his own voice from time to time. It was a small reminder of who he was, as an individual, as a human being. And it was a small act of defiance, to speak his native language in a country that bore so much hostility to his kind. Honestly, his voice was all he had left. 

Piglet decided to give him the benefit of the doubt and brought her knucklebones into view. She whipped away hay and dropped the bones in a circle of dirt. Viewing the positions of the bones, she drew fifteen lines in the sand: “asbet, eshr.” Ivar rolled his shoulders and tilted his upper body forwards. Piglet ogled him as he dragged his lower body forwards. She observed the way he pushed his legs into a comfortable position as he sat down near Piglet’s makeshift line. Something seemed to trouble her, her brows turned into a frown and she looked at him from head to toe. “Maksura?” Intrigued she picked up a twig and snapped it into two, then gestured back on his legs. Her forwardness made Ivar debate to put her name back on his lift of Wrath. It was ironic; all throughout his life he’d hated the leather braces that kept his legs from further damaging. But now that he’d lost them, he missed them dearly. It wasn’t for simple safekeeping, it was the lack of the straps that made him feel weak; exposed. It was so easy for others to see his flaws. 

Ivar attempted something uncharacteristic, he tried to brush off Piglet’s question and see it through the fingers. Collecting all the bones, he clasped his hands together and gave it a good shake before throwing them into the circle. “That’s five, five, four, three and three,” Ivar counted, remembering the specific ways of all the sides, “asbet eshr,” Ivar pronounced with difficulty, drawing fifteen lines in tally marks. “Fifteen,” he lectured, tapping his fingers down on the last line. 

“Fith-theen?” Piglet jabbered, repositioning herself Indian styled and tilted her head to recount Ivar’s scar; “asbet eshr, fifth-theen.” she concluded and leaned in to pick up the knucklebones. 

Ivar arched a sly brow and chuckled deviantly, enough to make her rethink her actions: “are you sure you want to be doing that Piglet?” Ivar questioned, giving his innocuous words meaning by pushing his palm to the middle of the dirt circle, pressing one of the bones into the sand. “Because if I can grab your dice, that means I can grab you, get it?” He showed her a toothy smile and slouched back against the wooden frame of his box. Now this was a game he liked; cat and mouse. 

The change of atmosphere did not go by unnoticed; Piglet’s back went stiff and deep set brows clearly made her rethink her actions. “C’mon Piglet, marvel me with your agility,” Ivar taunted, enjoying every little bit of the slave’s anguish; he could practically hear her heart galloping inside her chest. Her eyes bounced from the dices back and forth to him before she finally dared to make a move and snatched four bones from the circle.  “Impressive,” Ivar clapped his hands three times, the empty sound filled up the shed, “but you need five to play your savage little game,” holding up his right hand he rolled the last of her knucklebones back and forth between his fingers. Frustration crinkled her eyes from the sight of Ivar’s taunting and huffing, she got up on her feet, slamming the four pieces of her game into one of her many pockets and roamed back to her corner of the shed. Soon her prayers chanted through the shed, probably favoring her god to smother her hostel guest in his sleep. Ivar smirked and hid the knucklebone inside his trousers. He’d gotten what he wanted; entertainment at the expense of the Christian servant. 

.-.-.

A/N: Well, he did not try to kill her, I guess I can call it progress. And they managed to learn a few words of each other's language, we’re getting somewhere. 

The tagged ones:

@youbloodymadgenius

@xbellaxcarolinax

@saldelys

@shannygoatgruff

@pieces-by-me

@apenas-mais-uma-pessoa

@readsalot73

@lauraan182

If you’d liked to be tagged, please let me know:) Xoxoxo Nukyster 

[shadowsong26fic]

Coming Attractions!

First Monday of the month (and year. Thank every known deity in the universe.)

...ahem.

Yeah. It’s been a...well, 2020. But it is now officially a new month and year, and time for a Coming Attractions post!

The big news, obviously, is that I actually finished Precipice. \o/ ...well, the first seven arcs, anyway.

As I’ve discussed before, and explained in my very long author’s note at the end of the final chapter on Ao3, the next steps for this AU are a series of seven one-shots which will be released as ‘Preludes,’ covering the six-year timegap before Arc Eight. These mostly deal with Rebels characters (although I’m slightly rethinking one of them because I should probably include Mara Jade in it...), as well as Sidious’ fifth apprentice and possibly Maul.

I’ll also be starting the sequel, entitled either Protectors or Promises (it’s been Protectors for a while, but now I’m waffling? IDK). Anyway, that picks up with arc Eight, Escalation, six years after the end of Precipice. I’ll probably post a preview snippet sometime this month because Why Not.

There will be a hiatus (an actually Planned one this time, lol...). I’m aiming to start posting in April, but we’ll see how things go.

Anyway, moving on to other plans!

Other Star Wars Projects:

our faces like a mirror

I totally planned to start posting that this year <.< On the plus side, I don’t...think the Siege of Mandalore arc (or the stuff from the Mandalorian) really Jossed anything I had planned? Especially given the fact that it’s set from 5 years pre-TPM (I recognize that Lucasfilm has made a timeline decision but given that it’s a stupid-ass timeline decision I have elected to ignore it) to about 5 years post-TPM, so I wasn’t really expecting it to, but it was a vague concern of mine. Anyway, I’ll rewatch to be sure before I post, probably. But, yeah, I’m all the more excited about my girl Bo-Katan now, so hopefully I’ll get some momentum on this.

2021 SWBB:

I finally figured out a general shape of the plot, lol! And I have about...just under 4k of miscellaneous text in this AU (like, actual Story text, not just random notes and scribbles of which I have. A Lot). I need to get another 2k by Sunday, but that shouldn’t be a problem.

It’s going to be in four parts, plus prelude/interludes/coda, because that is the Structure that my brain at like 4AM gave me the other night, lol. While I don’t know the details, I have a general idea of What Happen in parts one, three, and four; except for tying in some Mandalore stuff and making some Decisions about who I want to draw in at various points. Part Two is also up in the air. I know how it needs to end to set up part three, but not so sure about what should actually go in there. Possibly I’ll end up cutting Part Two and just having a three-part story, but eh, we’ll see.

Anyway, I’m having fun with this, especially since I’ve discovered the Plot, so we’ll see how things go from here :)

Other SW Fanfics:

I am...hoping??? to resurrect Distaff and/or the Ventress outline at some point this year, because I’m very fond of those AUs and they deserve some more love. Possibly also another Devoted story. We shall see.

AtLA Fanfic Projects:

As I’ve mentioned a few times over the past few months, I’ve fallen back into this fandom (which was my primary fandom for...like...four to six years????) And I definitely want to write more in it. I’ve already done one AU outline, and I have plans for a couple fulltext fics (...discounting the super-self-indulgent crossover stuff I don’t super plan on sharing outside a very small circle lol). I don’t have much actual, uh, Text on anything yet, but I’m hoping to start posting one or more of those at some point this year, too.

Project One is an Avatar Zuko AU; Aang is around for reasons that do get explained in story; Zuko finds out a couple months before the duel with his father when accidental water or airbending happens (he’s in a sailboat, there’s a storm, I haven’t worked out the details yet). He decides That Clearly Didn’t Happen and proceeds to ignore it...until he manages to accidentally waterbend again when in the infirmary post-duel. At which point he decides he Does Not want to be just...used as a weapon. He figures he has about three and a half years before the comet, he can use that time to figure out what to do next; maybe come back with the comet and Prove his Worth at that point.

He goes to the WAT first, to see what he can figure out about airbending from any texts/mosaics/whatever that are still there; then he heads to the NWT; then he’ll probably pick up Toph because I love their dynamic. He plans to spend a year on each other element (not enough time for mastery but that comet deadline looms large). Obviously, over the course of those three years, his plans change.

And then things get thrown even more off the rails when Aang emerges from the iceberg before Zuko’s year of earthbending is up.

There will be a fair number of OCs hanging around (both to give him someone to talk to at the WAT and I think he’s going to learn from a less-prominent master than Pakku when he gets to the NWT), as well as Iroh trying to find his nephew, and various other familiar faces from the show.

Project Two is about Lu Ten, and a lover he had during the Siege of Ba Sing Se, and what happens to her (and her daughter) after his death. I’ve talked about that one in a little more detail in other posts, I think, hence the comparatively short summary, lol.

Original Stuff:

I am hoping to get more origfic posted this year than I did last year. I’ve got these universes I love exploring, and I feel like they should get more attention, lol.

...I think that about covers it! At the end of last year, I set myself some Goals, which were. Well. 2020 happened, soooo...

Anyway, because I am an Optimist, I’m going to set goals again for this year. And I guess go over how well I did on the ones I had??? A lot of my goals will probably be repeats from last year, because...yeah.

2020 Goals

1. Finish Precipice; complete Arcs 8 and 9 in Protectors/Promises/Precipice II; put out some level of Arc 7.5/Preludes content.           I did finish Precipice! I did not do the other things. 2. Write at least 10k of origfic content.           Not quite--I ended up with 8,129 words. 3. Start posting OFLAM           Nope, that did not happen. 4. Revive a semi-hiatused fic (i.e., Distaff; Auxiliaries; Phoenix!Verse; one of the BSG fics I keep meaning to go back to if I ever actually sit down and rewatch the series; if I add an actual sequel/companion to Deja Vu… that probably counts…)           Did not happen. 5. Finish updating Lux and Farglass Cycle archives; keep them updated through the end of the year as new content gets added.           Nope. 6. At least four AU outline installments of some kind; preferably including a continuation of Ventress and Her Tiny Time-Travelling Conscience and actually writing up the main part of Let’s Go Steal a Crossover; but any outline will count.           I did put up one AtLA outline, as mentioned before; and I also posted a massive timeline for the Jedi of Valdemar AU, but nothing else. 7. Complete BB submission and keep an eye out for other challenges/exchanges.           Did complete BB, and one giftfic exchange over the summer. 8. Write at least one holiday fic (Valentine’s Day; Mother’s Day; Father’s Day; Halloween; New Year’s; etc.) and post on the appropriate day.           Did not do the thing.

2021 Goals

1. Post Arcs 8 and 9 in Precipice!Verse as well as at least half of the Preludes stories. 2. Write at least 10k of origfic content. 3. Start posting OFLAM. 4. Revive a semi-hiatused fic; preferably Distaff; but Auxiliaries or Phoenix!verse or one of the BSG fics would also count (Serenissima, Other Battlestar, For Sorrow Sung rewrite...) 5. Start posting at least one AtLA fulltext fic. 6. Finish updating Lux and Farglass Cycle archives; keep them updated through the end of the year as new content gets added. 7. Find a title and set up an archive for Untitled Intrigues Story 8. At least four AU outline installments of some kind, preferably including a continuation of Ventress and Her Tiny Time-Travelling Conscience 9. Complete BB submission and keep an eye out for other challenges/exchanges. 10. Write at least one holiday fic (Valentine’s Day, Mother’s Day, Father’s Day, Halloween, New Year’s, etc.) and post on the appropriate day.

[pocketfulofrogers]

HWBL Part 4

Pairing: Steve Rogers x Reader

Summary: How far would you go to save the life of the man you love?

Notes: It’s been like a year since I last updated this series... oops.

“You’ve been at this too long.” Steve startles you from behind and you have to resist the urge to slam your computer shut. “When was the last time you ate?” He asks.

You send a haphazard wave in his general direction as you turn back to your screen. “I can eat when I figure this out.”

It was a bet. One you had no business participating in. What had started as an innocent conversation about childhood tales with Sam and Tony had become a frenzied search for proof that Fury hasn’t always been a grown, joyless, hardass.

“He did not just manifest out of thin air.” You grumble when your forced to start another public record search. At this rate, you’d waste away before you even found photographic evidence of a smile.

Steve leans forward and your concentration fizzles as his jaw grazes your ear. He watches as your fingers lose steam, and the edge of his lips draws out a smirk when they freeze to hover over the keys. Slowly, he reaches an arm from behind you to lower the screen while his other presents a muffin.

Still warm, the sweet aroma lures you out of the small trance he’s managed to put you in. A smile breaks out and you reach for it quickly, promptly shoving it to your nose.

He laughs. “If anyone asks, you didn’t get this from me.”

“I’ll be sure to finish the evidence before Clint comes stomping around.” He laughs as you take a comically sized bite before leaning close again to whisper in your ear.

“There’s a false bottom in the third drawer in Fury’s desk. Latch is at the back. You should find what you’re looking for there.”

You shove the remainder of the stolen breakfast in your mouth before taking off, Steve’s eyes glued to you until you disappear around the corner.

**

Natasha Romanoff may be many things, but a fool is not one. She decides to give you the benefit of the doubt for exactly two hours, setting a timer and everything. When she calls and you don’t answer, she curses herself for even letting you leave her sight.

“These fools are going to get themselves killed.” She mutters as she starts a track on every alias she knows you to have. No luck.

Clint picks up on the second ring, almost as desperate for information on their friends than she was. Before she’s even finished her request, he has your face plugged into every tracking program SHIELD has available.

A security camera at the international airport in Rome catches a portion of your face for a fraction of a second. He offers to flag your passport, but she tells him no.

She wants to handle you herself.

**

You find Raleigh, North Carolina to be an odd place. Beautiful, almost deceptively so with its old architecture and the brilliant greens of the Elm trees in the square parks. Known as part of the ‘Research Triangle’, you have to laugh at how easy it was for you to be kept at such a horrid place under the false guise of ‘research’.

Three blocks from your destination, the hair on the back of your neck prickles and your posture tightens, but you maintain your pace regardless. You scan your surroundings, picking through reflections in store front windows, simultaneously keeping the perfect depiction of ease.

When that doesn’t appear to be working, you pick out a large man to stumble into. He quickly apologizes as you make your way behind him and offer him a sweet smile before you slip into the crack of an ally to wait.

Of all the people it could’ve been, or of all the people you would’ve rather it been, you weren’t exactly expecting to see the bright red hair of Natasha peeping out of a dark hood. She continues past you, eyes peeled and scanning. A quiet string of Russian curse words slip from her lips.

When she lowers the hood, preoccupied with rethinking her next moves, you walk silently out into the light.

“What are you doing here.”

If you’ve startled her, she doesn’t show it. “Did you really think I wouldn’t figure it out?”

“Not until it was done. Guess I shouldn’t have stopped for breakfast.” You smirk and raise a brow- tilt you head with a hint of a playfulness she finds irritating.

It’s short lived.

“Come back with me.” She pleads. A request you’ve heard before. “We’ll put a team together, and with all you know about Yates, we’ll get him back. Why would you rather give yourself to the man who destroyed you?” She furrows her brow, confused.

Because it insures Steve’s life. But you don’t respond, you can’t even meet her eyes.

“You let him get to you.”  She states simply. There’s no need for her to specify who.

“Not willingly.” You say softly.

“You’ll recover.”

You laugh lightly and gaze back up at her and shake your head softly. There’s a small smile on your lips and Natasha knows she’s fighting a losing battle. “That’s the thing, Nat, I’m not so sure I want to.”

She makes her way closer to you, feeling slightly more desperate. “This is not our only option.”

“You don’t get it. You don’t understand what I owe him.”

Her heart pangs because she does. She had watched you both for the better part of a year, had a front row seat to whatever it was the two of you were. You had gone from some fable most could never believe to a real member of the Avengers.

Before all of this, she had allowed herself to believe that you called them home. You did too, if you were honest with yourself.

She rests a hand on your shoulder, not knowing what other pleas or promises she could make, and you’re finally able to force yourself to meet her eyes. So sincere, so hopeful.

For a moment you try to believe that with the power of teamwork and well wishes or whatever, Steve could come home whole and unchanged, but she does not know all that you do. She doesn’t know what horrors Steve has already faced. Who wouldn’t want to break the legendary Captain America? Chip away at all of that good and fill him with something sinister. Walk around having broken one of the greats.

There’s nothing they love more than a challenge. You had been a testament to that.

The relief that flashes through her eyes when you place your hand on hers cuts you almost as deep as the guilt does when you twist her arm behind her back- kick her legs beneath her and leave her unconscious.

“I’m sorry.” You whisper.

**

“A movie? Like in a crowded theater” You question, your apprehension thick in your tone.

Steve was the first to be so good at getting you to take a break from your work. Just to do normal things- things you never thought to do. Most of them were far out of your comfort zone, but there was something about him that calmed you. Something deep within him that soothed the ‘what ifs’ that usually plagued you.

But a big, dark room surrounded by people with very few exit strategies was definitely not something you were up for.

“Not a theater, a drive in.” He beams. “We take one of SHIELD’s cars, tinted to your comfort, eat popcorn and maybe something fried. The cars are bullet proof and I’m pretty sure they fly. There’s like five different escapes they alone offer.”

You narrow your eyes. “Why?”

He chuckles. “I’m trying to show you how much more there is to this world then what you’ve seen.”

**

The Institute looks the exact same as it was. Behind the towering iron fencing, tucked behind a curtain of old oak trees lays a grey stone building. The swooping arches and intricate iron work alone is enough to distract the average person from the lack of windows.

It was one of the things you loved the most about the Tower and the Triskelion, all of that natural lighting.

The hole you blew in one of the walls seemed to be a good enough reason to add an extension to the building. There’s a shiver that runs up your spine when you try to imagine what may be inside.

Despite already having made peace with what may become of you, pressing the call button just before the gate still sends ice through your veins.

“Sorry, no tours today.” The voice says.

“That’s alright, I believe you boys should be expecting me.” You look up to the camera in the corner, tip up your baseball cap, and smile. Adding a little wave for good measure.

There’s silence and then a buzz. The gate swings open but you’re surrounded by automatic weapons before you’ve even crossed the threshold.

You had once let word spread that one day you would return to this place to balance the scales, so they probably expect a fight from you. Their fear drips from them, standing before the deadliest tale they’ve heard.

The only one to have ever escaped.

The ghost story whispered to new guards in locker rooms to remind them those they try to control are not to be underestimated.

The dramatic interpretation is downright laughable.

A segment clears in the group of men surrounding you, and you do your best to keep up the façade of being unphased.

A tall man with dark grey hair peppered silver on the sides saunters forward, an unmistakably sinister glint in the steel blue of his eyes. He stops just before you and places his finger under your jaw to tilt your head up to his.

Your breath freezes in your lungs when he smiles down at you.

“Welcome home, darlin’.”

[loveafterthefact]

Love After the Fact Chapter 19: The Enemy Might be Our Friend and Vice Versa

But the seeming idiot is definitely our friend

First  Previous  Next

"Lance?"

"Hm?" Lance doesn't turn, watching the city rapidly come into view.

“Why the florist and forgemaster specifically?”

“Because I thought you might like them. Also, I need more arrows. My quiver is looking a bit sparse.” Lance indicated the quiver at his hip which indeed only had a few arrows in it. “The forgemaster himself isn’t a fletcher, but his daughter is. His son is a glass-smith.”

“Maybe you could take better care of your arrows?”

“You don’t use arrows a lot, do you?”

“No, why?”

“Well when you hit things with them, like bone or a tree, sometimes they break.”

“Oh. Sorry?” Keith squirms, unsure if he’d actually hit a nerve or if Lance is just messing with him.

Lance offers him nothing more than a deeply amused look, perhaps a little endeared. It’s easier to read Lance’s expressions than his tone. Keith doesn’t process sarcasm very well.

“Crown Prince Lancel! Prince Yorak!” Keith turns, drawing his braid over his shoulder. It’s Lord Lanval, pulling a young woman over by her hand.

“Hello, Lord Lanval. It’s a lovely day. Who is this you have with you?” Lance smiles, clicks his tongue, dismounts as his shreika kneels. Keith follows his spouse’s lead.

“Your Majesties, may I introduce, informally, Lady Gloriana of House Trivaine? She and I are courting.”

Lance places his hand over his heart, bowing as he takes the lady’s hand, kissing the back of it. “My Lady, it is a joy to make your acquaintance. You have not yet been presented, I should think? Bold though it might be, I say I would remember you.”

“I am to be presented at the next ball, your Majesty. Forgive me, as this was not a proper introduction.” Lady Gloriana tucks a lock of pale pink hair behind her ear, blushing under golden scales. She has gold and pink eyes, too. She's beautiful. She turns to Keith with a nervous smile.

Keith bows, right fist over his breast, customary of his own people. “It’s a pleasure to meet you, my lady. What brings you here today?”

“We are-”

Keith interrupts Lord Lanval. “I asked the lady. She can speak.”

Lord Lanval splutters, indignant, but Lady Gloriana blushes, seemingly a bit pleased. “We were on our way to the florist, but Lanval wished for me to meet you.”

Keith recalls something of Adam’s lessons. “We are on our way there as well. Something about me being seen among the people so that they don’t hate me quite so much. Perhaps you could help me?”

“Oh.” the lady giggles as Keith offers her his arm. “Well, alright. So long as Crown Prince Lancel doesn’t mind.”

“I have no objection at all, my lady. Perhaps you two could lead the way.”

Lady Gloriana nods, guiding Keith toward the florist, pointing out the things in the square that she likes, some of the more important people. Keith listens, asks her questions. Lance raises an eyebrow. Keith’s lessons are going better than Adam had let on.

Lanval falls in beside him.

“I don’t know if I told you, but I made sure the rumors of your… escapades made it to Daibazaal. I told quite a few people about it when I saw an opening. Including Prince Yorak’s mother.”

“Telling his mother might have been a little much, but I thank you. Thank you also for making that comment at the banquet. I wasn’t sure how else to break the ice. Or how to get him out of there before one of us snapped.”

“I know how lofty your ambitions are. I thought you might like the challenge. And you are most welcome.” Lanval frowns as Keith leans forward a little as he pays Lady Gloriana a compliment. Or perhaps it’s a tease, given the sly smile. Either way, she laughs, clapping lightly.

“Forgive him,” Lance murmurs, walking next to Lord Lanval a few paces behind. “He has the manners down, but the social mores still escape him. He probably assumes that because he’s married, he can do as he wishes. He’s emulating me a little too well.”

“It’s no trouble. Poor little thing needs friends. He did quite put me in my place, though, didn’t he?” Lanval frowns. “Is he really a kit? Lady Renli said as much at your wedding, though I put little stock in it at the time. Watching him since, however…”

“He is.”

“By the Ancients! Your Majesty, with all due respect-” Lanval seems horrified. As he should be. If nothing else, Lance feels gratified that he and Adam aren’t the only ones. Though to be honest, if Adam finds something morally abhorrent, people seriously need to rethink their lives. He sighs, turns to glance at his life-long friend.

“We are several things to one another, but ‘mate’ is not among them. My father posted a Listener outside our door. I made Adam take care of it. I believe my father still suspects, but I haven’t laid an untoward finger on Keith. Frankly, I refuse.”

“But that Alfor would even allow such a thing! Lancel, he’s your father! Our King!”

“I don’t think he quite understood. I think he assumed Galra age in a more linear progression, as Alteans do. But I agree, a better King would not trade in children. It wouldn't have hurt to wait a decaphoeb.”

Lance clasps his hands behind his back, watching his spouse navigate social activities with the help of Lady Gloriana. She beams, gently explaining social rules as he breaks them, guiding him through a conversation with the florist. The florist seems bemused, but willing to be patient for the prince. Keith, for his part, has a look of great concentration on his face, stumbling as he tries to learn.

“She’s beautiful.”

“She’s clever. And her own person, which is a trait we both seem to enjoy. I suspect that if Prince Yorak hadn’t put me in my place in the square, she would have done it later herself. Your prince… Are you sure he was a lord?”

“He was only appointed to his title a phoeb or two before he came to me. Before that… I think he spent most of his time completely alone.”

Lanval turns to him, alarm in his eyes, though not on his impassive face. “Your evidence?”

“I can’t say for certain. Call it instinct.”

“Your red quintessence edge serves you well, it would seem.”

“So it would seem.” Lance sighs, watching the florist lead Keith and Gloriana through to a back room. “Not that anything I have to offer does him any good. He’s not safe. My father is still subtly pressuring me to essentially assault him. He struggles to understand our customs. He doesn’t know how to rule or lead. He can’t even eat our food! He’s out of his depth and away from his home-”

“And you care. Listen, I’m not that much older than you, but I’m old enough to know that giving a quiznak about someone when they’re in a bad place makes all the difference in this reality. You two don’t come across as lovers, though that’s more his fault. -He’d likely be uncomfortable with you even implying it. No point in attempting that sort of illusion.- But you do come across as friends. Add to that the fact that you’re clearly very devoted to letting him make more friends, and you’ve got an excellent start to whatever sort of relationship you wish to have with him. If I may, your Majesty, what would you like to see from your marriage long-term?”

Lance is silent for far too long, which is answer enough. In the end, all he says is, “Seems foolish, doesn’t it?”

“Perhaps not. For someone with a blue base, you’re rather dense when it comes to yourself, your Majesty.”

“That’s where you come in, my friend.”

Keith trots up, holds out a tablet. “Um, the florist says you need to sign this.”

Lance looks at it. It’s a digital receipt. He raises an eyebrow. “Why do I need to sign it?”

“It’s being billed to the royal family. I can’t-”

“You can.” Lance leans past his spouse. “He can sign for this, Sir. He is my spouse. What is mine is his, to do with as pleases him.”

“Of course, your Majesty. Forgive me.”

Lance waves away the florist’s apology, turns back to Lanval with a whisper. “There’s also that nonsense. He only has what power I say he can have.”

“Everything in good time, Prince Lancel. I know it isn’t your strong suit, but do have patience. Trees grow much more in summer than they do in winter.”

Lanval is still quite young, but the lord’s always been wise. Losing one’s parents at the age of six tends to do that to a person. Lance can see it, in the thin lines of grief beneath Lanval’s eyes, the creases at the corners of his mouth. It’s contradictory, given the smile ever present in his brown-eyed gaze. Lanval, like himself, knows well the complications that come with pain. Lanval also knows that people are just that: people.

“Lanval, remind me to make you my advisor one of these days.”

“I am here whenever you need me, old friend. Either of you. There's something you should know: There is a whisper from somewhere in the courts that Altea still prepares for war?”

"What? Are you certain?" Lance narrows his eyes, watches Keith make some inquiry about the clay pots on the counter.

"I'm certain there is a rumor. What truths are hidden therein, I cannot say."

"Thank you. I will look into it promptly. Do keep an ear out." Lance smiles as Keith turns, holds out a hand for Keith to take. Lady Gloriana takes Lanval’s arm. “Did you enjoy yourself, my lady?”

“Oh yes. Thank you for lending me your husband. He’s quite charming, in his way. And very pretty.”

“He is, isn’t he?” Lance smiles, shifting to put a gentle hand around Keith’s waist. It’s a sign not to fight the flow of conversation, one they picked together only yesterday. “And a very quick wit.”

“Well, we should get going, I'm afraid. My mother and father are quite eager to meet Lord Lanval.” Gloriana smiles at Lanval, who lays a hand over the one on his arm. Lance smiles too, seeing that their feelings are reciprocal. A lucky thing. An enviable thing.

They say farewell to their friends. Lance turns to Keith. “Are you still up for the forgemaster or are you tired?”

Keith sighs. He’s exhausted. He likes Gloriana well enough, but trying to maintain that level of decorum, trying to learn and understand all of these things that Lance knows inherently is exhausting. His spouse smiles, takes his hand, kisses his cheek, leads him to their mounts still waiting in the square. “Tired it is. Let’s go home.”

“Lance?” Lance hums, watching the castle approach, silhouetted by a twilight sky. “Is it normal for people to talk about their partners like they’re not there?”

“Not really.”

“Wonderful. I thought she liked me.” Keith’s ears wilt.

“She does. Very much. Just… We’re all trying to learn how to be friends again, right? That doesn’t happen overnight. We must try to be patient.”

“Patience really isn’t my thing…”

“Mine, neither. But we must try, alright?”

Keith nods, silent. Lance might not know, but he overheard much of his conversation with Lanval. He hadn’t realized the two were friends, or that Lanval was essentially a spy for the prince. He hadn't realized that Lanval's comment about his youth and civility had been intentional. He also hadn’t realized the pressure Lance is under. How stubbornly Lance is clinging to something the people around him say should be discarded for the greater good.

He really could do much, much worse than a young man who clings desperately to his morals while his fathers bend and break them in the name of peace. Of all the royals -all seven of them- that Keith has met, Lance is the first one that he would choose to follow.

The longer he sits there, dwelling on everything he overheard, the more bitter Keith feels for his spouse's plight. This is especially true once he sees Adam waiting impatiently at the gate.