#and she still gets to pull chaos moves while optimizing herself

[frogsandmagic]

I’m honestly so proud of Kristen’s growth in battle. She went from her friends looking directly at her and going “hey. I think our major problem last time was that our healer went down first. Do you think you could try to avoid anything too dangerous?” Which she immediately followed by jumping in kalvaxus’ mouth.

But now!! Now, she realized there may be something dodgy going on in relation to the revivify spells and with Buddy specifically. So what did she do? She had adaine teleport her up to him as soon as possible, and prioritized heals and doing insight checks on buddy. She did some other things too, but she knew them avoiding death was important and made sure they were able to do so first and foremost.

I just <33333 I love her so much. She’s come to find how she can be the most helpful in a given battle, not what the most fun and wild thing to do is.

[recoveringdreamer]

TIMING: current PARTIES:  @closingwaters & @recoveringdreamer LOCATION: teagan's cabin SUMMARY: teagan and felix catch up after lost time. CONTENT WARNINGS: mentions of past sibling & parental death, mentions of past emotional abuse

It was a quiet day, the wind chilly but still having a soft dance against the nix’s skin as she waited for Felix. Teagan smiled idly as she sat on the porch steps, appreciating the sun overhead as it kept her from tilting too much toward cold. Thanks to being stuck as a statue, she was still getting accustomed to her body’s new, weakened state. She wanted to be angry, to scream at the top of her lungs about how unfair it all was, but she couldn’t. After so many years of constantly moving, always finding a new thing to occupy herself with, Teagan had finally managed to slow down a little, much to Arden’s relief.

That first night back, she broke so many rules that both her and Andy had put in place for her. She was meant to follow them, but Teagan’s heart had other plans. It was funny to think back on. Her renewed energy allowed her to climb up the many stairs she wasn’t supposed to, right into Arden’s arms. Who, try as she might, could not muster the tone to sound reprimanding, and she quickly moved on to focus on the fact that Teagan was back; alive and well enough to keep breathing. 

Humming to herself, Teagan kept herself busy with a new knitting project she’d set to finish before Christmas time. It was a new cardigan for Arden to enjoy, especially since the cold wasn’t exactly her friend, and gifts made by hand always hit a spot in the heart that no money could buy. She was just about finished with a sleeve when the telltale sound of tires perked Teagan’s ears, and she looked up with a tired, but bright smile, waving excitedly to see Felix just through their windshield.

“Oi! How ya doin’? I’ve missed that beautiful face!”

Teagan was back, and it felt almost surreal. Like someone would pull the rug out from under them at any moment, like there was some cruel trick behind her return. This town so rarely offered happy moments; Felix often felt they could count their joy on one hand while needing a cemetery full of rotting fingers to count the losses they’d endured. Their family, their freedom, their very sense of security… Wicked’s Rest had taken it all, in one way or another.

But it hadn’t taken Teagan. Not permanently, at least. She’d been gone so long, unreachable to the point that even Felix with their optimism had begun to lose hope. And healing would be a slow road, they knew, but at least it was a road Teagan would be allowed to walk. At least the world had given her that much, had some mercy for once. At least it was something.

The excitement building in their chest as they made the drive to the cabin mingled with a nervous energy, a quiet uncertainty. The last time he’d seen her, she hadn’t been entirely happy with them. When they’d insisted she let the ranger go, when they’d argued about it. She’d relented, ultimately, but part of Felix still wondered where he stood. When they stood against their father — the few times they’d had the confidence to do so — things had always grown darker. The anger festered, the resentment remained. Trying to convince someone not to kill a person they longed to kill, someone they thought they were right for killing… It was a hard thing to do, and a harder one to come back from. 

The balam’s heart was pounding in their chest, but their uncertainty dwindled at the sight of her through the windshield. She smiled at him, she waved. She didn’t look angry, the way their father would have. Felix relaxed as they exited their truck, waving back. “I should be asking you that,” they said, bounding up to the porch to greet her. “How are you feeling?”

The relief that filled the nix was like a beacon of hope, guiding her toward the safety within her friend’s arms. No longer was Teagan in the midst of chaos, lost to the hardened goo that nearly killed her. She sighed with relief, embracing it tightly and getting encased in Felix’s arms. He smelled like home, only this time, Teagan had no urge to run. Not this time. She’d learned her lesson, somehow managed to find the right people. They didn’t offer ultimatums and exile. Instead, they listened, and most of all, they tried. In more ways than one, too.

“I’m…okay. As-as okay as I can be.” Teagan shrugged, tightening her arms around Felix one last time before she took a step back. Her vision swam a little, and she breathed sharply as she grabbed for both the porch post and Felix’s shoulder and hissed a few Welsh expletives to herself. “S-sorry.” She gave them an embarrassed look, her smile crooked and brows pinched together. ���Sometimes I move too quick for my own good. Strength’s all gone, but my mind likes to think it’s not,” Teagan chortled, blinking a few times until she could see clearly again.

“C’mon. You want to have a ling-di-long around the lake? It’ll be nice to do something other than sitting around on my arse.”

She was unsteady, but that was understandable. She’d been so still for so long, unable to move beneath the hardened goo; it made sense that her body had deteriorated in that time. For Teagan, who seemed to have such a hard time sitting still, it must have been a terrible thing. Felix felt a pang of regret, wishing there was more they could do to help. But what could they offer? They had nothing to give; they never did, really. 

“It’s okay if you’re not,” they told her with a small smile. “You don’t have to be okay all the time, Teagan. You don’t have to pretend you are if you aren’t. Just me here, right? I won’t tell.” Maybe this was what he could give her — a chance to let herself be less than all right if she needed it. They shook their head quickly at her apology. “It’s okay. You don’t have to say sorry.” Offering out their arm for her to grip, Felix nodded his head. “Only if you lean on me. I don’t want you falling or getting hurt, okay?”

Teagan’s brows twitched slightly, surprise ruffling her a bit. No one besides Arden questioned her when her practiced smile was bright, and her voice was optimistic. It seemed as if Felix would not play a part in the facade, and Teagan was surprised to find that she was relieved for that. Felix was a greater gift than they realized, and even more gifted at that. “Truth be told, I don’t think I’ve been okay in a long time, but it’s nice to play pretend, eh?” She sighed, offering a tired smile as she linked her arm with Felix’s. 

“You sure know how to convince a lady. You sure you aren’t out to whisk me away from Arden?” With a wink, she put one shaky leg in front of the other, confidence growing in her gait as they reached where land and water met. Silence surrounded them, save for the occasional water lap and thump from their steps. It was peaceful, just what Teagan the two of them needed after she had selfishly interrupted their spa day so that she could exact justice. Well, her version of it. 

“Felix?” Her voice was just barely above a whisper, tense and worried, but she knew she had to apologize again. She wanted to be better because Felix deserved better. “I’m…I’m still sorry. You know—” She paused their walk, too shaky to continue. “The hunter.” With a groan, she made her way to a suitable rock, taking a seat. “I’m sorry for how I treated you.” Not for the hunter. Never for the hunter. Teagan didn’t think she was capable of feeling any sort of regret for anything she’d done to any hunter she’d hurt or killed. It felt like a betrayal to her family. To herself. Maybe it was wrong, but she couldn’t find any part of her that cared. That was reserved for people that mattered. “I know it was a lot.” She patted the area next to her for Felix to sit. “So I’m grateful you’re even…willing to be around me.”

“It is,” Felix agreed with a small smile, “but it’s nice to let yourself be honest about it sometimes, too.” They didn’t have much experience with that; hypocrisy was something they struggled with, when it came to their friends. They could excuse the contract that locked them into place in the Grit Pit, chalk it up to their own rampant stupidity, but they’d been unwilling to allow Samir to refer to his own plight in the same way. They wanted Teagan to talk about what was bothering her, but they didn’t know how to open up about their own problems — even the ones not locked away from conversation by the non-disclosure clause in their contract.

Teagan took their arm, and Felix held her steady as they walked, making note of the way she seemed to grow stronger as they approached the water. It made sense; he didn’t know much about nymphs, but he had some understanding of their connection to their elements. Teagan was better near the water. “I think Arden’s got me beat,” they laughed, shaking their head. Teagan and Arden were a good pair; Felix could tell just by speaking to them, by seeing how they spoke about each other.

They settled into the quiet for a moment, enjoying the company and the nature. Even now, years after rejoining society, Felix felt a little more at home among the trees. Ten years in the forest as a half-feral thing would do that to a guy. When Teagan’s voice broke the quiet — just barely, just a whisper — he turned to look at her. “Hey,” they followed her to the rock, crouching in front of it. “It’s okay. You listened to me in the end. That’s what matters to me. That’s what’s important.” They paused for a moment, taking her hand and rubbing their thumb against her knuckles absently. “My dad never listened to me. About that stuff. He, uh…” They trailed off. “It was like he thought I was stupid. For suggesting it, you know? For not wanting…” They shook their head, offering her a small smile. “Nobody ever listened to me. But you did. And that — That’s what matters to me. More than anything else.”

It was startling, the way Felix approached with caution. Not because they were worried they would be attacked, but because they were making an effort to be portrayed as safe and comforting. Going so far as to reach out. Tears began to sting at the corners of Teagan’s eyes, and she squeezed Felix’s hand softly as she held her emotion, in with her lips forming into a thin line. It took a few moments before she was able to breathe, and she inhaled deeply with a shudder. The waves reacted in earnest, flowing just a bit harder against the rocks, wrapping around and straining just as her free hand did against itself.

“I don’t think you’re stupid. Not even then, and certainly not now.” She shook her head, looking up to try and blink the tears away. “Just didn’t think you could understand, and I don’t want you to. Fates, I never want you to understand this…this thing inside me.” Teagan swallowed, finally looking back at Felix with tear-coated eyes. There was still much to learn about the balam, but on personality and mannerisms alone, she could tell they were damaged all the same. 

Children born into the hunted always were, a knife held at their back at conception. So it made it all the more beautiful the way Felix managed to remain so kind and against hurting others, even against their own father’s wishes. Teagan wasn’t sure she could understand it, and it felt horrible that she could relate more to the man that made her friend feel stupid than she could to them. Because kindness was never stupid. It could be naive, but that didn’t make it wrong. Felix never should have been made to feel that way for choosing peace. They should’ve been praised for finding that within themself in a world so cruel. They were a light, and Teagan wanted to make sure they knew that.

“You’ve got a light to you. It’s rather intimidating.” She smiled wanly, reaching for Felix’s cheek and tracing down their scar carefully. “I don’t know how you do it, but it’s mesmerizing to see, and so beautiful. Arden says I’ve got a light, but I’m not so sure I do. Just got this…this…” Aeron’s voice whispered in Teagan’s mind, and her head fell with shame. “Darkness.” She swallowed, retreating into memories filled with crimson with a shaky breath. “If I had any light, I think it died with my family.” She didn’t think she knew how to be anything other than a beautiful monster.

It was beautiful, seeing how the water reacted to Teagan. For a long time after Leo, the very concept of fae had been terrifying to Felix. Sometimes, they still were. Someone who could trap you in a bind just by tricking you into saying the wrong thing, someone who could force you into a life you’d never wanted by pulling your strings just right… Felix had come so close to adopting their father’s worldview, to applying the hatred he’d tried to teach his children to carry towards humans to fae instead. Maybe their friendship with Teagan had been a part of what had stopped that. She’d had every chance to bind them when they’d thanked her before, and she almost had. But the fact that she’d stepped back, the fact that she’d changed her mind and cut them free… To Felix, that said more. It said everything that needed saying.

They shrugged, looking down at the water as it moved, taking in the beauty of it. “I am a little,” they said quietly. That was just a fact, wasn’t it? If they weren’t stupid, they wouldn’t be… stuck the way they were. They wouldn’t have signed that contract, wouldn’t have let their heart speak over their head. And maybe they were too stupid to feel the way Teagan did, the way their father and their siblings did. They’d always been warned that naivety would get them killed someday. With the way things were going at the Pit, they wondered, sometimes, if it would be someday soon. The thought scared them more than anything. Felix didn’t want to die. They really didn’t. But they didn’t want to hurt anyone, either.

They chewed the inside of their cheek for a moment, quietly thoughtful. “My mom died,” they admitted. “When I was fourteen. It — It wasn’t rangers. It was humans. She was shifted in the woods, they saw her, they were… scared. They killed her, and they ran, and they left her there. And my dad, he… He never really got over it, I guess. He got scared. Got convinced that everyone was a threat, that the whole world was trying to hurt us. He packed us up, and we moved out into the woods, away from everyone. And any time someone got close enough to see the house, he… made sure they were taken care of. That’s how he’d say it, you know? I dug so many graves, but I wasn’t allowed to put up markers. I just had to leave them in the dirt.” They paused for a moment before adding, with a guilty whisper, “It got easier after a while. It started to feel like… sweeping the floor or doing the dishes. Just another chore.”

They let their eyes come up to meet hers as she touched their face, but they couldn’t hold her gaze for long. A heartbeat, maybe two, and they were looking at the water again. “So I don’t think… I don’t think the light’s as bright as it seems. I’ve done a lot of bad things just because it’s… easier. Because fighting back is harder than giving in. And I — I still do. Everybody’s got darkness. But everybody’s got light, too. That includes you. You’ve done bad things — so have I. But it doesn’t make you a bad person.” Because if it did… didn’t that make Felix a bad person, too? If there were rules for what made someone good or bad, then the same ones applied to everyone. If Felix was good, Teagan was good. If Teagan was bad, Felix was bad. They liked to think the former was more true, for both their sake.

Teagan leaned her check into her free hand, face expressing a mixture of concern for her friend and relief for such understanding. It was bittersweet and dry, a horrible cocktail for Felix to know the taste of, but misery loves company, and the two of them had each other. “For starters, my sweet Felix, I think we’re all a little stupid. Is what life is for, ya know? To learn and get a little less stupid each day.” Teagan scrunched her nose playfully. “Well…” A bob of her head and she chuckled, “If you got a dash of luck, at least.” 

With a breath, she nudged Felix to look at her, urging them to meet her eyes so they could see the honesty in them. “I’m sorry.” She apologized quietly, knowing the ache of losing a mother all too well while also relating to the simmering rage Felix’s father harbored. “None of that could have been easy. That darkness came from your pa, and you did your best to appease his needs when yours should’ve been met. You were a child.” Teagan could hear Arden’s voice when she said those words, a twinge of pain twitching her brows together. It seemed the two of them were opposite sides of the same coin, flipping endlessly in a cycle that they needed to break. The nix had started to, but there was still a long way to go. At least she could speak her truth with a friend, with someone who was willing to understand.

“I…” She paused, gathering her thoughts and trying to keep her sorrow from turning into anger, so the light Felix spoke of would remain. “No one ever came looking for a lost fifteen-year-old who could no longer go home to her mam or her siblings. Alone, I festered and putrefied, and became this. I killed so many hunters with no remorse because they do the same. Because I saw them chopped away and sat in their blood.” Teagan tensed a hand through her hair, squeezing her eyes shut as the tension threatened to consume her as she continued with gritted teeth.

“I get maimed and treated like a hunted animal, but it’s still more morally just to run a dangerous hunter out of town, than it is to let a fae family go? How is that right?” Gnawing on the inside of her cheek, Teagan swallowed, giving Felix a wan smile. “Shite like that has kept me so angry, but I’m trying not to be because of your light. And Arden’s. And a few other friends. But it’s light all the same, from you.” Her thumb stroked across their cheek. “Don’t ever doubt that. Don’t ever doubt that you are good, my sweet, sweet Felix. You pull out the good in people.” 

They liked that. The idea that all life was was trying to get less stupid, the concept that everyone else was just as lost as they were. They weren’t sure how true it was. For most of their life, Felix had felt a step behind most everyone else, like the rest of the world had it all figured out and they were left playing a desperate game of catchup. “I’m not sure I’m so good at the learning part,” they replied, half a joke and half way too honest. “Maybe luck’s just never been on my side.” That felt true, too. Not much of Felix’s life had been a lucky thing. Teagan’s hadn’t, either.

At her prompting, they lifted their gaze enough to meet her eyes, offering a small half-smile and a shrug. “It’s okay.” It wasn’t. Not really. But there was nothing either of them could do about it now, was there? Felix tried to commit to the belief that the best thing to do with the past was to let it go. It couldn’t be changed, couldn’t be corrected. None of the people their father had killed had ever made their mother’s death easier to carry. None of the blood he’d spilled in her name had ever erased hers from the forest floor. “Nobody has it easy. Right? Everybody has their own stuff going on. My dad had his stuff. I had mine. My siblings had theirs. And the people who — who did that to my mom, they had their own stuff going on, too. I think… I don’t know. I don’t hate them anymore. I don’t know if I ever really did. They were just scared.” Couldn’t Felix relate to that? Couldn’t everyone? Fear was the kind of motivator everyone could understand. 

Teagan could, too. That was what it came down to, wasn’t it? She’d been a little kid who’d lost her family, and she’d been afraid. And she grew, and that fear grew with her. It was so much easier to take your fear and weaponize it than it was to sit with it. It was what their father had done, what their siblings had done. Felix understood the temptation of it. Maybe, given more time, they would have done the same. Maybe if Leo hadn’t found them when he had, maybe if they hadn’t left home and come back, maybe if their siblings hadn’t protected them from the worst of it because they were the youngest… There were a lot of maybes here. There were worlds where Felix was more their father’s child than their mother’s. There were universes where they went down a path similar to Teagan’s. They couldn’t judge her for the things they’d done when the only thing that separated them from having done the same were a few choices made by other people.

“I don’t know if there is a right or wrong with things like this,” they admitted, looking back to the water. “It’s not right for hunters to do what they do. But I don’t know if it’s right to do it back to them, either. All the bodies I buried never made any of us safer, you know? It’s just… more of the same.” Teagan was afraid, and so she killed hunters. Hunters were afraid, and so they killed fae. Where did it stop? Why did she deserve to lose more of herself when she’d already lost far too much? Felix didn’t care about hunters on a personal level, didn’t want them to live any more or less than he wanted any stranger to, but he cared about Teagan. More than anything, they wanted her to be okay. And they didn’t think that was possible so long as she was so wrapped up in the death and the killing. They didn’t think anyone could ever be entirely whole in the midst of something like that. And Teagan — Teagan got a choice. She got a say. Felix had to do what they did for the Pit, but Teagan didn’t. And didn’t she deserve a shot to get away from it?

They offered her a smile, leaning into her touch. “You are, too, you know. I know you don’t feel like you are, I know you’ll probably tell me I’m wrong, but you’re a good person. You deserve a chance to grow. So, just… You can put the weapons down. I’ve got your back.” 

“No,” She replied, shaking her head at Felix’s answer. “It isn’t okay. It isn’t right.” Blinking away some tears, Teagan looked up to the sky and thought carefully for a moment, desperately wanting to say or do the next right thing. When it came to her, Xóchitl’s voice dancing in her head, mismatched eyes locked back onto Felix. “Can’t be fixed now—everything that's happened to us, but we do better for ourselves when we acknowledge when things were wrong. We have to or-or we won’t know how to…how to look for things that are good for us…” Teagan paused, eyes scanning the lake so she could let her tears fall. “And accept them.” 

Again, she traced Felix’s scar, smiling tearfully but hopefully at them. Never did she think anyone else but Arden could understand her, and she was starting to think maybe Felix understood her more given their experiences. They were just a victim of the person Teagan had become—that Felix’s father turned into. She didn’t want their friendship to lead to that. Felix deserved more than that. They deserved to have their light reflected back, not swallowed up by the dark pit she’d been digging into all those years. 

“My hands and heart are tired.” The nix managed to say in response to Felix’s powerful statement. Even after all she’s done, they wanted to stay. And how bittersweet was that? Teagan had longed for someone to say that, for her family to have loved her despite her hypocrisy. But they had not, and in their place was someone who was not blood, but who had been through a similar tragedy, accepting her all the same. She sniffled, bonking her head to Felix’s. “Some days…” A breath, and her brows cinched together, releasing with a swallow. 

“I’m numb to the anger and pain. But others? Well, I can feel all of it, and it becomes so much that it feels like I can hardly breathe, but you know what helps?” What Teagan was about to say was a clichè she hated to admit, but she did so anyway. “Letting go little by little and loving a bit more. Ever heard of therapy?” Again, she chuckled, all humor lost in it. “Started that, and I thought it was a bunch of balls, but turns out, it ain’t so bad.” She shook her head, tongue pressing against her cheek. “I don’t know if this is the end or if the pain will win again, and I don’t know if I’ll ever stop wanting to kill hunters, but I am trying. For love, for you and everyone I care about, I am trying.” Teagan had to stop herself from telling Felix they were wrong, and she felt called out by their following statement, but she was surprised to find it wasn’t so hard to accept their words as truth. Or as something she wanted to believe in, or at least make true. 

“I’m learning better now—or trying to. Hunters will always be around to take mothers and fathers and siblings from families...” Saltless tears streamed freely, the ball in Teagan’s throat tightening her voice. “I did the same in return. I learned how to be a hunter, be like those wardens and slayers and rangers at age ten. I didn’t see it before, or rather, didn’t want to see it, but I do now.” The lake rippled powerfully, Teagan’s pain mirrored in waves. “I’m a monster. Have been since that day because I saw what a true monster was and could do. I learned how to do what they do.” Water waved harder, and Teagan looked to Felix. It all calmed then, the lake stilling just as quickly as it was disturbed. “I’m just as bad. I’m just as cruel. I’m just as evil.” Save for one hunter, though she wasn’t going to talk about him. “But I want to put it all down. I want to…be free.” She looked toward the cabin, the distance seeming much more daunting with her energy depleted from the emotional rollercoaster. Still, she smiled, even laughing as her joy began to grow. “You know, have that spa day, and do it right.”

“I think… I’m not always the best at knowing what’s good for me.” That was what Leo used to say, in the midst of their arguments. Felix would want something, even something small, and Leo would remind them of all the times they’d been allowed to choose things for themself only to make the wrong decision. They were stupid, he’d say; they’d never known what was best for them. Now, with distance offering some clarity, the balam thought their ex may have been cruel in his accusations, but… he hadn’t been entirely wrong, either. After all, the first thing Felix had ever chosen for themself was Leo. Wasn’t that, and how it had ended, proof enough that they were best at making mistakes?

Maybe Teagan wasn’t the best at choosing, either, but she was better at it than they were. That was how she’d landed Arden, wasn’t it? The only relationship Felix had ever had that lasted more than a heartbeat was with Leo, and that was all the evidence that was needed. She was making improvements, too, was growing as a person and getting better. Felix, by comparison, often felt as though all they ever did was get worse. They went to work every night, and it got easier after a while. It shouldn’t have.

They offered Teagan another smile, wondering if they could make anything resembling a difference here. Nothing they’d done had ever helped their father let go of his grief or anger. Nothing they’d said had convinced their siblings not to follow down that same path. They’d lived most of their life in a bitter stalemate, the last soft thing in a house where softness was seen as a terrible character flaw. “It’s okay to rest when you’re tired. I think you’ve earned that.”

A little laugh escaped from between their lips at the mention of therapy. “I have heard of that,” they confirmed jokingly. It wasn’t something they’d ever thought of for themself. Most of their problems weren’t ones they could talk about; not for lack of wanting to, but thanks to the binds in their Grit Pit contract that silenced them about so many things. “I’m glad you’re learning to do that. You deserve a break, after everything.” From what he understood about Teagan, her life had been a nonstop barrage of trauma since her mother and siblings died, and no one deserved that, even if Felix knew she’d insist she did. “And I think trying counts for a lot.” It was more than their father had ever done, no matter how much they’d begged for it. It was more than Leo had done, too. No one had ever really tried for Felix before. Most people were much more happy to tout how they knew better than Felix did, how Felix was foolish for assuming otherwise. You’re lucky I even put up with you, Leo used to say. But Teagan never made it seem like a chore. That counted for something.

“You’re not a monster,” he said quietly. “You were a little kid, and you were scared. I don’t think anyone can be called a monster for the things they do when they’re scared.” Not Teagan, not their father, not even the people who’d killed their mother all those years ago. Fear might make people capable of terrible things, but it didn’t turn them into monsters. Felix had to believe that no one was so far gone that they couldn’t come back if they chose to. Otherwise, what was the point of any of it? Redemption had to be possible. It had to be. “There’s no such thing as too far gone. If you choose to come back from it, you can. And you’re making the choice, right? All that’s left to do is just… Turn around and start walking. Back towards who you want to be.” It wasn’t an easy path, but it wasn’t an impossible one, either. Nothing really was. The mention of the spa day brought a grin to the balam’s face, and they nodded their head adamantly. “We can definitely do that.”

[gottawriteanegoortwo]

Marmien - Let Us Have Tonight

So I accidentally landed in the Marmien tag while procrastinating in work earlier in the week. I got inspired by the idea of how Mark and Damien might officially begin a relationship if Damien were the sibling Mark fell in love with originally. 

It… Was supposed to be flirty. But then it went kinda sad. With that in mind, there’s a pretty strong focus on controlling parents so I’ve stuck it under a read-more.

Word Count: 1,694

-

It had been a wonderful night. Since gaining full ownership of the Manor, Mark had redecorated and brought it up to the full splendour it deserved. It was the location of many parties that would allow optimal chances to brush shoulders with the crème de la crème of the city. But tonight, it was a smaller, more important affair. Mark had invited his three closest friends over for dinner and drinks to celebrate William’s arrival home from an overseas expedition. The staff were given the night off so the four could fully unwind without the worries of anyone eavesdropping. Spirits were high as they swapped stories and snacks. William had been hired for a job that required him being security during a wildlife documentation trip. The meal was accompanied with tales of William’s adventures and mishaps. The conversation was briefly interrupted as the four partook in the chaos of attempting to clean the dishes. Bubbles were blown, Mark’s hair was soaked, but it was good times, something all of them needed.

One the kitchen was (hopefully) to the chef’s standards, they returned to the living room to lounge on the chairs and chat. They shared casual conversation, and all took it in turns to quiz Celine on the course she was taking. Her parents didn’t think it necessary that a woman get a qualification, but she decided otherwise. After all, they didn’t particularly care what she did if she did it herself. But as for her twin brother?

--

Oh, how Mark’s heart ached when he glanced at Damien. He was the youngest child, but the only son. That meant that he was the prime focus of the parents. He was left to burden the responsibilities of the family legacy, whether he wanted it or not. His life had been plotted for him with no room for discussion on the matter. Mark was sure that they would have encouraged Damien to distance himself from Mark and William because neither men were ‘suitable’ to their impossible standards, only that they had been friends since childhood. Mark was certainly thankful for that. Damien was already a lonely soul. He couldn’t bear to think about how worse it could be. He had already spent most of the evening quiet, unable to share his own tales with how restricted his life was.

It was why he jumped the gun and asked Damien to stay on when the others were getting ready to leave. Why force him back into his cage so soon? Maybe that was why Celine agreed, throwing her brother a sympathetic look, and suggested that she too would avoid going home so Damien wouldn’t face potential punishment. Damien was grateful for the support, giving a weak chuckle when William patted his friend on the shoulder and reminded him of the soldier’s promise to ‘pummel the daylights out of your old man’ if anything did happen.

When the door closed, Mark fetched Damien a glass of water. Alcohol would not help matters right now and he knew it. He didn’t want to bring the mood down any more, not when his heart was begging to do something.

A badly kept secret in the group was this: Mark had been in love with Damien for years. Not only that, it was reciprocated. 

When they were teenagers, Mark’s parents - well-known patrons of the arts with generations of money running through their veins - had hosted a party to celebrate the success of an operatic production that had been on that day. It was a rare time Damien had returned home while in university. With Celine sick at home and William in the army barracks, the pair stole away from the stuffy public spaces and hid in the library. Talk gradually shifted from the opera they had watched, to the idea of what love was and what importance it played in their families, to how they themselves viewed romance in their lives, to Mark admitting he thought Damien to be quite beautiful and that it might be the first time he’s fallen in love, to Damien quietly confessing he wants to be with Mark. Their first kiss hidden amongst the books was soft and tentative. Murmurs of love were shared with breathy whispers, but neither could do more about it beyond sharing kisses and compliments and promises to be true no matter what. Damien was caught under his parents’ thumb. If they chased this relationship further, he would have been forbidden to return to university out of the state, transferred to the local university they wanted him to attend… And would have forbidden him to see Mark again. Instead, they agreed to stay on ‘not yet’. No matter how impatient Mark was, he’d wait. No other person made him feel ‘complete’ as Damien did.

(Oh, his parents had tried to encourage him to date Celine, but he refused. Sure, she was beautiful, but waiting for Damien was one promise he would keep)

Yet as the years went by, something always happened to result in Damien asking Mark to delay his advances no matter how he wanted the opposite. Every single time, the reason would lead to Damien’s suffocating parents being the root of the problem. At least now Mark, Celine and William were old enough to work together to try and give Damien a little more independence. Even now, Celine was willing to put her neck on the line so Damien could have some time alone with Mark with William as her accomplice. Which brings us back to the present. The pair sat in silence on the couch, Damien sipping the water as he was lost in thought. Mark barely needed to tilt his head to know that Damien was weighed down by the stories Celine and William had shared throughout the evening.

“For what it’s worth, I still think you’re incredible.” Mark’s attempt to break the silence hit the nail on the head.

“Of course you would say that,” sighed Damien, not objecting when Mark draped an arm  over his shoulder and pulled him close. “You’d say that no matter what.”

“I say it because it’s true. You’re such a clever, charming, intelligent, handsome young man. I’d listen to you talk all night if you’d let me.” There was another sigh, but Mark lightly squeezed his shoulder. “Hey, no, don’t start that. I mean it. You’re so well-read, you always have something insightful to say about everything. You’ve been able to give me tips during my rehearsals for a play you’d never heard of, for pity’s sake. Those good days are coming. We’re all older and wiser, while your parents are old-fashioned farts.” Damien snorted, but he reluctantly moved back so he could look Mark in the eye. There was a smile Mark loved to see, but it was tinged with sadness.

“You always manage to face everything head-on like a wall you can easily climb. I’ve always liked that about you.”

“I’m sitting on that wall ready to pull you up whenever you want. Just say the word.”

“You know I can’t.” The conversation was spiralling back to one they’ve had several times over the years - whether or not now was the ‘right’ time to do anything with their feelings. “My parents won’t approve -”

“Your parents haven’t approved of me from the day I went into the acting profession. They haven’t scared me away, I won’t let them.”

“But -” Damien’s counter vanished into nothing as Mark cupped Damien’s chin with his hand.

“Do my advances make you uncomfortable?”

“No.”

Mark leaned in.

“Do you want me to stop?”

“No.”

“So then why not be selfish, my love, just for tonight?”

They were close, so painfully close that all Mark needed to do was push forward a fraction more. But he couldn’t. He had sworn to himself that this relationship was on Damien’s terms. If Damien moved away, he would respect that. He always did. 

In that moment, Mark was sure that all his senses were amplified. He could hear his heart pounding in his chest. Damien was wearing the cologne Mark gifted him for his birthday and it made him feel giddy and light-headed. He let himself be mesmerised by Damien’s beautiful eyes.

He felt an arm snake around his neck. All he could taste was Damien on his lips.

Mark’s eyes fluttered closed as Damien indulged in selfishness and pressed against him. The kiss was quick to deepen as both men let the feelings they had bottled up spill out. Mark’s hands moved fast, wrapping around Damien’s waist and encouraging him to climb onto his lap. Damien broke the kiss to catch his breath.

“I love you. God, I - I need this. I need this so badly…” He trailed off with another kiss.

“Then stay. We can say you fell asleep on the couch and I hadn’t the heart to wake you. We can have tonight and then act like this never happened.” Mark was almost pleading. He would do anything if it meant he could have this moment.

“No… Fuck my parents. I love you and I’ve hidden that for too long. I don’t care what they think.” Damien’s stubbornness, at last, had kicked in; and both men knew it wasn’t the alcohol talking. Mark laughed and brushed a hand through Damien’s hair.

“I love you. And you know, I don’t think either the world nor history won’t care about us. Did you know they think a lot of the great historical figures in Ancient Greece were in same-sex relationships? If the world finds out, they’ll do whatever they can to pin us as close friends. I know I’ve read articles showing how wilfully oblivious the press can be if the couple travel in similar social circles” Tomorrow, Damien might decide to not be as open and bold about their relationship, but Mark would gleefully encourage it tonight as his hand pressed against the back of Damien’s head so they could kiss again.

Words weren’t needed now. They had each other. Without the world watching them, they could finally keep their promise from years ago as they broke apart and embraced.

For now, at least, they had tonight.

[olivinesea]

A Mixed Blessing

Chapter List

chapter eight: starting to rust

a/n: Just barely coming in at under a month, oops. I think I’m going to take a break from this one for now, it seems to be a little too much while my thoughts are occupied with school things. When I planned this all out originally, this chapter was a possible ending point but then I got ambitious and there’s quite a bit more plotted out after this. But it might be a while before I come back to it, we’ll see. Anyway, thanks for coming along for all the torture, I know it wasn’t a pleasant time but the hurt can be nice occasionally? I’ll try to write something a little kinder in the future. Warnings for all the same things —substances, abuse, some very dark thoughts and themes. ~5.7k

Aaron tries to keep it all together but the world is indifferent.

He tried to stay away, he really did. As if he could see into the future, he could imagine how quickly he would tarnish her smile, could picture it fading right in front of him. He had nightmares where Haley sat, unresponsive and slowly dissolving. But she was insistent, seeking him out, towing him along with her through her day. She’d find him at lunch and push half a sandwich at him once she realized he hadn’t brought anything to eat. Brought him along after school to loiter in the sun with the other theater kids killing time between the end of class and the start of rehearsals, loudly asserting their presence on the world. Aaron hung back, uncomfortable around such casual chaos, everyone moving too fast, speaking too loudly. Compared to his world, Haley’s life was bright, unrestrained, and viscerally present. He didn’t fit there. He stuck out in his silence, dressed in his dark clothes, still too big on him though he was finally starting to grow.

The other kids eyed him suspiciously, muttering quietly about him when they thought he couldn’t hear. Only Haley’s position at the top of whatever social apparatus they operated by kept them from outright excluding him. He didn’t mind too much, he’d heard worse, what did he care what these kids thought of him anyway? What did they know with their golden lives, their excitement, their expectations for the future? Haley’s people believed that the world was for them, would provide what they wanted when they wanted. He found it odd, watching them as they screeched and tackled each other, a blur of color so jarring he had to squint.

He could feel how his difference was noted, their eyes making the back of his neck itch. More than once he tried to disappear but every time Haley slipped her hand into his, squeezing gently, pulling him back toward the group. She’d smile, encouraging, her belief that it would all work out, that he could assimilate given enough time, was unwavering. Her optimism baffled him, sometimes even irritated him. He would inevitably feel guilty about that. Surely it was ungrateful for him to find fault in this girl who had welcomed him when there was absolutely no need for her to do so.

Not everyone was tolerant of Aaron’s presence. The drama teacher regarded him with suspicion, allowing him to stay but making it clear that she was doing him a favor. It helped that he was able to sing, shoring up the weak lower register of the female dominated cast. He was given a minor role, nothing too complicated, nothing that would embarrass them if he failed, as she assumed he would. Some of the other kids caught on to this disapproval, emboldened by it they became less subtle in the ways that they mocked him. Aaron tried to mind his own business, even skipping out on rehearsals when the attention became too much. But Haley inevitably found him, running to catch him after school as he tried to escape out a side door. She dragged him back again and again, refusing to give up on him. Insisting she had seen something special, something she thought she could coax out if given enough time—like a stray dog, so used to mistreatment that he bristled when people came near but still craved affection.

He followed reluctantly, acutely conscious of the growing dislike, mutiny thickening the air. Everything was too sharp these days, he’d lost his sources for getting high. All he had were his cigarettes, too afraid to steal alcohol from his father. He desperately wanted to go back into the woods, to fall back under the quiet spell of muffled words about nothing, watching the light filter through the branches, sparkling as the leaves moved with the breeze. He hated it here, in the building, surrounded by these people with their constant need to be heard, each louder than the last. The smells of the theater, new paint and old fabrics and so much dust made it hard to breath. The too bright lights, unnaturally hot against his skin, and the way every sound echoed made his head ache. He’d be long gone if it wasn’t for the way Haley’s touch made his heart skip, her fingers lightly brushing across his arm to get his attention. Or the way she looped her arm through his as she caught him in the hallway and insisted on walking with him to class, leading him along her sheltered path.

Aaron wondered at the lightness of her head rested against his shoulder as they sat in the grass, sticking her tongue out at something stupid another kid said, then smiling when she heard his smothered laughter. He let his attention drift, eyes wandering until he saw a group in the distance. He watched as they moved away from school, easily guessing where they were headed. He felt a pang of longing as he watched them leave, wishing he could still be part of that. He wasn’t sure he had been happy with Cole but he had at least felt like he was in the right place, like he had found someone who understood him. No one here was like him, no one less so than Haley. He was attracted to her in a different way, fascinated at how she viewed the world and how the world viewed her. He’d never known anyone who moved so easily through life, who was loved and desired by everyone she met. He couldn’t begin to imagine what that felt like though he agreed with the rest of them, she was something special. He didn’t understand why she wanted him around but he wasn’t going to contradict her. Still, he wished to be gone with the group as they sought out unobserved spaces.

“Aaron?” Haley squeezed his knee, drawing his attention back.

“Hmm?” He had no idea what she had been saying.

“Do you want to come to Mike’s house after rehearsal tonight? His parents are out of town.”

Aaron looked dubiously across the group at Mike, someone who was clear in his dislike of Aaron.

“Please?”

Aaron shrugged a shoulder, shifting uncomfortably and causing Haley to sit up.

“It’ll be fun. And it’ll be good for you to get to know everyone a little better. You’re so quiet all the time.”

“I don’t think he likes me very much,” Aaron murmured, watching as Mike narrowed his eyes in their direction.

“Don’t be silly,” she said as she hopped up. “C’mon, let’s go inside, it’s almost time.”

He looked up at her, now standing above him. Their eyes met and she smiled. She was pleased with how much he’d been softening. It had only been a few weeks and already he seemed more comfortable, at least with her. She congratulated herself a little, privately, on her success. People had gone out of their way to warn her when she started hanging out with him, bringing him places with her. He was bad, he was dangerous, he would hurt her. But she knew, had known from that first time she saw him looking at her, he wouldn’t hurt her, not ever. He wasn’t so complicated, she reasoned, they were all just scared away by his dark features, his perpetual scowl, the whispered rumors about his family. She, Haley Brooks, was better than that, deeper and more sympathetic. He wouldn’t be the first broken creature she’d healed, but he would be her biggest project yet. She didn’t imagine it could be that hard. Everyone was always happier around her, she could fix this.

He sighed, shaking his head and stood up. Sometimes he could see her watching him and he wasn’t sure he liked the look on her face. Like she was assessing him, marking his progress along some scale she had in her mind. Noting when he ate, when he was rested, when he laughed. He felt a little bit like an animal in a laboratory. But then she would smile at him and he forgot all his hesitation, forgot how he disliked being watched, how much he hated people thinking they knew what he needed. No one had ever cared like her before and he wasn’t sure what she expected in return. But he let himself forget all that and follow her where she led for another chance at that smile, another chance to hear her say his name, sounding so different coming from her lips that it might be a different name entirely.

One of her friends, already halfway back to the building, called Haley’s name and she skipped over to her, confident that Aaron would follow. He watched her go before turning back to pick up his backpack. When he straightened up, Mike was standing very close to him. Aaron wondered at how he’d moved so quickly.

“I hope you don’t think you’re coming to my house, loser.”

Aaron stared at him, debating what to do. He didn’t particularly want to go to this party, he’d really prefer not to go. But Haley had invited him and he didn’t like the way this guy was always looking at her possessively, then looking at Aaron like he’d like to strangle him. Not exactly subtle.

Mike stepped in closer. “Did you hear me? Or are you too high?” He turned to his friends and forced a laugh, “Maybe you shouldn’t have fried your brain with your little homo boyfriend.”

Aaron didn’t think, he just reacted, fist swinging up and punching the other boy in the jaw. He stumbled back, holding a hand to his face, eyes frozen wide in shock. Aaron didn’t pause, only advanced on him, swinging again. It felt good, the anger that was always simmering in his chest, the anger he only barely distracted himself from, finally had an outlet. It probably wasn’t a fair fight, Mike had been expecting Aaron to quietly take the insults as he’d been doing, pretending to ignore them as they needled him whenever Haley was out of earshot. But this insult was too far. More of a mean jab in the dark than an actual accusation, his words had hit a nerve and unlocked a force within Aaron.

Once he landed the first punch, his vision clouded over with anger and he continued to swing at the other kid. The other boys quickly jumped in, once the surprise of seeing Aaron actually fight back wore off, once they realized he meant to do real harm to their friend. He already had Mike pinned on the ground, lip bleeding, hands covering his face, before two more of his friends managed to drag Aaron off. He swung at them too, no technique but plenty of experience on the receiving end. He knew what would hurt and he had enough rage to power him through a dozen opponents. One of the others pulled him off balance, using his grip on Aaron’s wrist to fling him to the side. They blocked his path to Mike, who was scrambling backward on the grass, putting more distance between himself and this suddenly rabid opponent. Breathing hard, Aaron glared at the group, realizing he didn’t have enough strength to overpower them all, despite his murderous desire. He spit in their direction, then grabbed his bag and stalked away.

He didn’t have to think about where he was going. There was only one place to go. He’d tried to be a part of the regular world, a part of a world where time continued evenly, where lights turned on when it was dark and spotlights burned brightest on those with merit. He’d tried to fit himself into that space for Haley’s sake but he had only been fooling himself. They’d known he didn’t belong and he’d finally overstayed his welcome. It was time for him to retreat to the unlit corners of the world, return to the margins of society where people could avert their eyes, where it was easier for them to pretend they didn’t see the wrongness of the boy in front of them. He’d go back to the place in the woods and hope there was someone there that could give him what he wanted, could help him disconnect from this too bright reality. He was as sick of it as they were of him. He allowed himself a brief flicker of hope that he might find Cole out there, with his understanding and their shared history he didn’t have to think about his walls so much. But he stomped down hard on that desire, reminding himself how he had still ended up alone. No, it didn’t need to be Cole, it didn’t need to be anyone in particular, as long as they had something to get him high he didn’t care. It wouldn’t matter for very long anyway.

He crashed across the grass, his anger making his steps heavier, his thoughts louder. He didn’t realize he was being followed, that someone was calling his name. He didn’t notice until there was a hand tugging at the elbow of his jacket. He spun around fast, ready to fight. Haley shrank back at the anger in his face, the wildness in his eyes. He clenched his fists when he recognized her, trying and failing to pull back the storm of emotion that had been knocked loose. He never wanted to scare her but she was following where she didn’t belong. He only had so much control.

“Go away.”

“Are you hurt? Where are you going? Why’d you attack—”

She didn’t even have the question fully formed before he turned and started walking again, unwilling to be accused of something that wasn’t remotely his fault. He didn’t like the way it stung him, hearing that she assumed his guilt. He didn’t like that he’d let her get so close, let her have such influence over him. She ran a little to get ahead of him, taking a deep breath to steady herself. She was frightened by his fury, but she wouldn’t let him go this easily. Not after she’d spent so many hours persuading him to join her world.

“Aaron.”

He stopped short when he heard his name, looked at her with some of his anger melting into sadness, feeling betrayed even though he knew he had no one to blame but himself.

“I didn’t start it,” he could barely get the words out, hated how much he wanted her to believe him, hated that he had to explain himself.

She rubbed her face, trying to think as she pressed her palm against her lips. She found she was more frightened of this new emotion than she was of the anger. He looked so hopeless.

“I’m sorry, I just…” she didn’t know what to say now that she’d gotten him to stop, now that she could see past the heated front of anger and could see some of the broken edges he did so much to hide. Wasn’t this what she’d been asking for?

He watched her struggle with what to say, saw the moment the pity started to creep into her eyes. Before she could say anything else, before she could make him feel worse, he started walking again, pushing past her. “Just leave me alone,” he muttered. He didn’t bother to check if she followed.

When he reached the clearing it was empty except for one person stretched out on a broken down couch. At first all he could see was the back of their head, the dirty blond hair sticking up in places. The recognition was a visceral feeling, clawing through his chest. He almost couldn’t believe it was real, that he was getting exactly what he hoped for. Cole sat up when he heard Aaron’s heavy footsteps cracking through the dead leaves and sticks littering the ground. He remained seated, looking at Aaron idly, as if no time had passed, as if he’d only been waiting for Aaron to turn up after class. Aaron felt so many conflicting emotions, had so many things he wanted to say that he could only stand with his jaw clenched against the flood of words he knew he would regret. Cole twitched the corner of his mouth in a slightly mocking smile and Aaron snapped. He grabbed Cole by the collar, pulling him to his feet, unsure whether he meant to strangle him or kiss him. Cole’s gaze shifted to look behind him.

“Why’d you bring your girlfriend with you?”

Too caught up in the charge of the moment, Aaron didn’t understand what he was talking about. Cole pulled away and lifted his chin in the direction he was facing. Aaron turned and saw Haley. She’d continued to follow him, concerned about what he was planning on doing, haunted by the hollowed out look in his eyes. She stood, apprehensive, eyes darting between the two.

He scowled. “Go back to school Haley.”

“But—are you okay?” She stumbled over her words, staring openly at Cole. She’d seen him in the distance, even noticed how Aaron sometimes watched him when their paths crossed. He looked even more menacing up close.

“I’m fine.” His mouth pressed together, biting his lower lip to keep his composure. He didn’t understand why she was being so persistent, why she wouldn’t just go away like everyone else. When she still hesitated he got impatient. There were things he needed to handle and he didn’t need her here getting in the way. He waved his hand at her, brushing away her attention. “I’ll see you tomorrow, okay?”

From behind him Cole fluttered his fingers at her with false sweetness. She hated the way he was grinning at her, his obvious confidence that he was the one in charge of the situation. She glared at him and he laughed.

She looked one more time at Aaron, who was no longer paying attention to her, had turned back to Cole entirely. She shook her head. Fine, if he wanted this it was hardly her problem.  What did she even know of his life anyway? Trying not to feel like she’d lost, she retraced the path back to school.

As soon as she was out of earshot, Aaron started in on Cole. His thoughts were disorganized and barely coherent but he’d spent weeks trying to understand the sudden distance. He needed Cole to explain, to know his reasons for turning on him so quickly after all that they’d shared.

“What the fuck—” He hadn’t finished his question before Cole clamped his hand over his mouth.

“Shut up.”

Their eyes met and there was a mental struggle for the upper hand. One thing that had changed in the past few weeks was Aaron’s strength. No longer constantly submerged in a haze of intoxication, he felt everything more pointedly and he was ready to direct that pain elsewhere. He wanted to bite Cole, to scratch at his face, to scream at him for way he’d been abandoned, the sickness and shame he’d had to endure on his own. But the warmth of Cole’s palm, the familiar smell of his skin, the muscle memory of being in this exact position was too much. He relented almost instantly, sinking into the couch, pulling his knees up against his chest and waiting to see what Cole would do next.

Cole watched him thoughtfully, interested by this new spark of resistance but also pleased that he hadn’t made it too far on his own. A little fight kept things interesting, staved off the boredom Cole so often felt. It was probably that girl he’d been with, giving him ideas. He could see he’d have to do some damage control to bring Aaron back completely.

“I’m sorry,” he looked down, measuring drops of sincerity. “My grandma, she saw…she said she was going to report you.”

Aaron was confused, he didn’t know exactly what she could report about him but he heard the edge in Cole’s voice, knew better than to dig deeper. Cole sat down beside him, pulling one of his hands loose from where he’d wrapped it tightly around his legs. He traced Aaron’s palm with his thumb, looking into his face again.

“You know I didn’t mean it right? I didn’t have a choice.”

Aaron recoiled, sickened by the number of times those words had echoed through his life. Worse though was how easily he was willing to give into them if it only meant he could have back a little of that warmth he had found. He ducked his head and shrugged.

Cole squeezed his hand. “Good, cause I think I’ve got something you’ll like.” He let go and dug around in the couch cushions, pulling out a crumpled paper bag. When he smiled at Aaron, that familiar greedy smile, Aaron admitted to himself that he wasn’t here to fight with Cole, that he had never been coming for that. This was all he wanted, was all he was good for: to be lied to and to be led astray. He didn’t mind as long as he didn’t have to be fully present for it. He sat up a little straighter.

“Alright, let’s do it.”

They fell back in with one another but it remained uneasy. Aaron was still not allowed back at Cole’s house and he was afraid to miss too much class. Lately his father had been grumbling about sending him away and he wasn’t entirely sure he meant away to live somewhere else or away from life entirely. There were no peaceful interactions between them, only lucky days where Aaron successfully avoided being seen. A sudden increase in truancy calls would not work out well for him. If he had been a little more mature, a little less caught up in his own teenage drama, he might have noticed the changes in his father’s face, the way the lines grew deeper as his frame grew thinner. As it was he only noticed as much as he needed to know to keep himself out of the direct path of destruction. He once might have cared to notice his mother crying more, even when his father wasn’t there to be the cause of it but he was long past feeling any sort of connection to her. If she was troubled, she could find someone else to support her. She certainly hadn’t done anything to help him all these years. Nothing that he could see.

At school Haley continued to pester him. She stood up for him against the accusations that he had attacked Matt for no reason so he was still allowed at play rehearsals. He went grudgingly, only because he couldn’t shake the way he felt bewitched by Haley. Now he tried even harder to stay out of any social situations, to keep things strictly professional with the group of theater kids. However, he couldn’t help but enjoy Haley’s company at lunch and in between classes. Much as Aaron had disliked her friends, he couldn’t resist the brilliance of her personality. She made him feel like being a whole person was possible, made him forget for a few moments what he really was. She may have made him a little uncomfortable but she was relentlessly kind, and he was more than expert at keeping things hidden so he let her think she was doing some good as she badgered him into eating more and forced him to study. Even if it was only pretend, they were both getting something from it.

Only after the school day was over would he would slink away to the woods where he’d meet Cole. Cole still wasn’t speaking to him on campus, too aware of how their obvious closeness before had been risky. He hadn’t changed in their time apart either, his mood still swinging wildly from affection to disgust. It didn’t feel great but Aaron needed him, needed what Cole could give him. Attention and a steady supply of drugs. He didn’t have to worry about his insufficiencies around Cole, they were too similar for him to care about hiding the difficult parts of his life, didn’t have to worry about being pitied, about someone trying to fix him. They’d dragged more furniture into the abandoned shed, found an old metal trashcan they could burn things in to warm the place as the months crept deeper into the dark end of the year.

By the time Aaron’s sixteenth birthday came and went he felt like he was leading a completely fractured life. At home he was a ghost at best, a target when not; with Haley a treasured curiosity, constantly examined and prodded into a more acceptable shape; and with Cole, he was himself, angry and violent but self-medicated to the point where none of it mattered. Any gentleness that had existed between them over the summer was gone, every interaction was rough and scrambling, followed by a shame that only dissipated once the high kicked in.

It became harder to hold all the pieces together. He would look at himself in the mirror and struggle to remember his own name. He started smoking pot during the day again, just to ease some of the jarring transitions. At lunch, Haley talked and talked and he wouldn’t notice when she asked him a question until she poked him in the bicep and he jumped like a startled cat. When she tried to ask him about it he got annoyed, snapping at her and walking away from school, not caring that it was the middle of the day and that this bad choice was sure to come back to him that evening.

The show opening got closer as he missed more rehearsals. He missed so many that he didn’t know what he should be doing when he was there, very obviously sticking out when he went one way while the rest of the corps moved in the other direction. The drama teacher pulled him aside, giving him an ultimatum that he needed to be present at every subsequent rehearsal or he would be cut. Not so secretly hoping this would be enough to get him to leave. He started to say he didn’t give a shit about her stupid play when he saw Haley anxiously watching their conversation and swallowed his insults, only nodding, looking away so the teacher wouldn’t see his contempt for someone who could think something like a high school play mattered at all.

He made it to all the rehearsals but he was sure to be high, not enough that he would be caught but enough to be clear that it didn’t matter to him if he did. He wasn’t sure why he continued to come, why Haley had such a pull on him. It didn’t make sense that he wanted so badly to make her happy when she was so different, so far removed from everything else in his life. Maybe it was that he knew that without her, there was nothing tying him to the regular world, the place of school and society and jobs and futures. She was the only person that seemed to care if he was around, an emotion he was long past feeling for himself. She was the last reminder that he was a human being, that he mattered to someone. It was the only thing standing between him and completely giving in to the destructive force that had been whispering promises of an easy solution to his problems.

It was just enough to keep him behaved around these people who hated him without knowing anything about him. They hated what he represented, hated the way he forced them to see that the world could be ugly and painful. They were offended that he dared to show himself among the normal people when he so clearly belonged to the underside. He kept quiet and kept close to Haley when he was at school, when he was in the theater. He wore the stupid costume, the silly hat, followed the directions barked at him, sang just loud enough to carry the rest. Then he slipped away as soon as he was able.

The week of the opening performance was a bad one. Cole, having recently gotten his hands on some speed, was off on a manic high. Aaron had tried it once but hated the way the uppers spiked his anxiety, the way he felt every eye on him like his skin had turned inside out. After that first time he had declined, preferring to find oblivion in whatever downers were available. But Cole liked it quite a bit. It made his already unpredictable nature even worse, even more dangerous. He’d spend these highs running all over town, breaking car windows for fun, stealing anything worth a couple dollars. Aaron hated it and did his best to hide from him while he was strung out like that.

The afternoon of the show’s opening he’d gone to an old, private hiding spot after school with the intention of getting so stoned he couldn’t feel anything that might come his way later. He succeeded only to remember belatedly what day it was. Haley had tried to remind him several times during the day but he’d been too high, too distracted to listen. Swearing, he ran back to school, not sure what time it was or what time he was supposed to have been there.

The house lights were already off, the audience quiet as the opening bars played. He raced to get into his costume, having to re-button his shirt more than once as the tiny objects refused to line up properly. He gripped his hat as he stumbled into the wings to the sound of the chorus coming in—the chorus he was supposed to be a part of. He thought he could probably just slide onto the end of the line without attracting too much attention. Unfortunately, he found his path blocked by the drama teacher, her face dark and angry, completely out of patience for this mess of a teenager. She stared at him, his eyes red and glassy, skin pale, insultingly obvious in his intoxication.

“No.”

He looked at her unfazed, barely registering her as more than an object to move around. When he tried to step past her, she blocked him again.

“Go home Aaron,” her voice was quiet but unfriendly.

He shook his head, “I’m going to miss my cue.”

She frowned, surprised that he was aware enough to even know when his part was. “You’re high, you can’t be on school property.”

Aaron glanced into her face now, paying attention. No teacher had ever mentioned being able to tell he was not sober before.

“If you don’t leave now, I will call the police.”

He stepped back, narrowing his eyes, gauging how serious she was, if she would really draw that much attention to the situation. Her expression didn’t change and he could tell she meant it. He looked past her once more, seeing Haley step forward into the spotlight to begin her solo. His heart twisted, thinking about how disappointed she’d be that he couldn’t make this happen for her. He’d tried, tried so hard to keep it together for this. She’d been so excited and even though he couldn’t feel any of that, he liked the way it lit up her face when she talked about the performance, about how her parents and her sister would be in the audience, about how she wanted them to meet him. He’d never planned on staying for that but he’d wanted to at least be part of the show, to at least give her that.

“Now, Hotchner,” she insisted, voice cold and unsympathetic. He shrugged and tossed the hat on the ground by her feet before turning and walking out.

He headed straight for the shed, knowing there were supplies there that he had slowly siphoned away when Cole was too high to notice. He’d been saving them, watching his little stockpile grow larger. He wasn’t sure exactly what he was saving it for, exactly what his intention was but now seemed as good a time as any to find out. He hoped Cole wasn’t there, at least not until he could get his fix. Nothing would matter then.

Once inside he turned on the camp lantern he’d stolen and climbed onto a rickety chair to reach the seam between the roof and the wall. He pulled out his supplies, examining them as he settled back down on the dirty old cushions on the floor and wrapped a blanket around himself. It was an old army surplus thing, scratchy and smelling of smoke but effective against the chill. He considered his options. There was a good amount in there, probably enough for two people if he waited for Cole to turn up. He could maybe ease him out of his frenzy, bring him down to Aaron’s level, to the place where they could float through time without moving, without worrying. He thought about the last time he’d seen him, the way his eyes had moved past him without any real recognition. He thought about the dark purple bruises on his wrist where Cole had grabbed him, twisting his arm and insisting Aaron give him whatever money he had.

Fuck him, he decided.

Cole would probably be angry if he came here and found Aaron high without him, would be suspicious of how that had come to be. He would probably regret not leaving any for him but just at that moment he didn’t care. Hurt and love and shame and desire were all the same to him, all more than he wanted to feel. He just wanted to feel nothing. He set himself up quickly, well practiced and sure of his movements. He glanced around the shed once, really seeing his surroundings, seeing how far he had sunk and he laughed as he pressed the plunger down. Anyone who heard him would have been alarmed, the sound more like an animal caught in a trap than an expression of human joy. His last thought as he sank back into the ground was that it really was too much for one person. Too much to be doing alone. Then he got what he wanted and everything was just black.

[g0dspeeed]

Burning Love

Request from @leoncharme 

What was supposed to be a relaxing day, turned into one of the strangest visits to Viktor’s clinic that V has ever had.

Hot grease sizzled deliciously in the large wok, the rich smell of savory noodles and synth meat churning V’s stomach even more. She stood near the food stall patiently, her eyes flitting through recent texts sent by practically every fixer in the city.

Ugh, I don’t need another fuckin’ car, she muttered as her eyes scoured all the vehicle offers made in the past few hours. Most were too tempting, too shiny, and V needed way too many eddies to make it happen anytime soon.

Deleting the final offer, V turned to take in the sight before her. The sun was high above the metropolis, caressing the Night City skyline in a golden light and warming the busy streets below. It was an easy heat, bearable, and a strong breeze cooled her off as it sifted through her hair.

Days like these were rare. Aside from the car offers, her inbox was light. There were no pressing contracts, no urgent phone calls from a fixer who needed a person shot, kidnapped, or rescued. No reminders to visit a drop box. No street races. No street fights to prepare for any time soon. Just a preem day for V to relax, eat a hot meal, and spend it with whomever she chose.

Which reminded her.

“Hey, double my order,” she requested.

The vendor nodded, and a smile tugged innocently at V’s lips.

When her noodles were ready, V paid the vendor and started towards her HELLA with a spring in her step.

Today’s gonna be a good one, she thought, allowing that bit of optimism to finally sink in. It’ll be-

A pause.

V barely heard it.

There.

Again, there it was.

The second time there was no mistaking the sound.

A high pitch yelp had caught her attention, followed by a low, pained moan. The source was near, but how close V couldn’t tell. She listened some more, but nothing stood out amongst the traffic.

Part of her thought to ignore it, both the sound and that damned intuition in her gut that said that something was wrong. Agony on the streets of Night City was as common as graffiti and a systemic issue far too big for V to remedy on her own, despite her impulsive need to save nearly everyone she comes across. V helped when she was able and often when she was barely so. Just her nature. Or more so a savior complex.

After lingering for a few more moments V decided to move on. Her noodles were getting cold after all.

Just as her hand pulled on the car’s handle, the sound ruptured again in a louder, more alarming pitch.

This time V quickly whipped around to scan the area with her optics. A tinted blue swept her vision, focus fleeting from object to object in view. It was there, resting against a bench that she spotted him. A clearly distressed man in a white and pink striped shirt was hunched over, sweat glistening on his forehead above a pair of violet visors. A gold chain dangled from his neck, catching a sun beam.

V stepped closer, but right before she could ask him what the hell his problem was, her voice caught in her throat.

Cupping his crotch, the man was naked from the waist down save for a pair of black tennis shoes.

V gasped.

Unfortunately, the stranger heard her. The man turned around and spotted the frozen merc, something like relief laxing his tense expression.

“Hey!” he cried.

He shuffled forward.

V shuffled back.

Her eyes tried to look at anything but what was in his hands. Anything at all.

“Hey, you!” he cried again. “I got to get to a ripper…”

The man’s whole body was trembling, and his voice was overflowing of desperation. She slowly allowed her eyes to fall upon his sweaty face as he panted, seeing his throat bob with each swallow.

Her pity outran her common sense.

“Alright,” V replied, discomfort heavy in her tone and eyes trying their best to look up towards the clouds.

“Great!” he heaved.

V’s brain was still trying to register her predicament, let alone the fact that she agreed to let this half-naked stranger into her car.

“Why’re we standing here?” the man stammered. “To the car! Now!”

A cry left him with enough volume to snap V to her senses.

Quickly, she slid into the driver’s seat. The lunch was placed in the back while her brain was trying to conjure up the fastest way to the nearest ripperdoc.

Though she knew exactly what ripperdoc was the closest, she hesitated. She hated this for him, hated that this weird-ass situation was what she was going to bring to his doorstep. V tried to think of any other clinic that was nearby, anyone at all who was available on such short notice. The reality was, however, that this was an emergency. Any moment the guy’s crotch could set her car ablaze, and ultimately her first option was the best.

When the passenger door slammed shut, dread had already started to climb up from her stomach into her tightening throat.

“Ugh,” groaned the man as their vehicle picked up speed. “Satisfaction guaranteed, they said…”

Ah, she thought. Of course.

V asked if he was referring to the Mr. Stud implant, the provocative ad flashing in her brain. When he confirmed her guess, she hummed in validation. He thanked her for her professionalism, for not being too judgey, given the circumstances. That was the most cordiality her newfound client provided, however, because for the rest of their short ride there was more screaming, moaning, and the demand that she mow down a class of children and pretty much everyone who dared cross their path. Telling him to chill the fuck out didn’t get her anywhere, nor did some scripted words of encouragement.

“Oh, it burns! It burns!” he near screamed, hurting V’s ears.

The moment they arrived at the clinic V didn’t waste any time. She quickly grabbed the bag from the backseat and directed the man to the green, neon sign on the other side of the alley.

“W-Where are you going?” he panted as she took off towards the clinic ahead of him.

“Giving the doc a heads up!” she called from over her shoulder. “Just come this way!”

Two steps at a time, V practically threw herself to the bottom of the clinic’s stairs. Stumbling, she burst inside, the metal gate grinding loudly through its shaft.

Viktor was already on his feet, no doubt startled at the commotion she was causing. Something between a smile and pure shock was spread on the ripperdoc’s face as he greeted the merc.

“Hey, V, where’s the fire-”

“I brought you lunch!”

V moved past him to toss their meal on his workbench. Some of his tools fell loudly to the floor.

“Aw, thanks, kid,” he said with a small smile, allowing himself to be touched by the gesture despite the rising chaos that was building in his clinic. “What’s going-”

“I also brought you a patient!”

Before the words registered, a harsh cry echoed in the large space. Viktor’s eyes snapped to the entrance of the clinic where a sweaty, half-naked man was leaning on the gate’s frame. The man’s hands were planted in the apex of his thighs. A sudden spark caused his body to jolt.

Like a switch, Viktor’s focus became sharp and alert.

“V, the chair,” demanded Viktor. “Stat.”

The merc grimaced as she hoisted the stranger up and led him to the operating chair. Viktor had already sanitized his hands and arms with a quick drying antiseptic by the time the man collapsed in place.

“Due to your compromised state,” began Viktor in a flat drone. V winced at how Viktor shoved his usual stimulant into his forearm, leaving behind a rounded wound that would join the other scars. “I am obligated to act on Article 23.4 of NUSA’s Good Samaritan Law to provide emergency medical care-”

“Shit,” moaned the man, his hands gripping hard at the armrests. “W-What the hell are you talking about? Just do your fuckin’ job!”

“Preem,” muttered the ripperdoc as he jabbed the man’s upper thigh with his medgun. The man yelped. “Pain should subside now.”

V suppressed a smile in response to the dry look that Vik shot her.

“Grab me two ‘Dorphs from that shelf,” he told her, a finger from his exoglove pointing in a general direction. “Need Beauts.”

“On it.”

As V searched his supply, Viktor gathered information from his new patient.

Despite knowing the ripperdoc for as long as she had and walking in on countless operations, seeing Viktor work in such a controlled, level manner calmed V’s nerves as well. A voice as rich as honey had that effect on people. The man made ripper work look easy, multitasking between running diagnostics, checking vitals, and laying a thin, surgical drape on the man’s exposed lap. Viktor kept the conversation flowing, delivering timely ‘mhms’ and repeating specs aloud for the recording program of his computer. He had an ease to his voice, something tranquil and trustworthy, even as Viktor pushed against the man’s chest when the guy tried to rise from the chair.

“Jesse,” warned Viktor calmly. “Easy there.”

If he wanted to put up a real fight, V doubted that Jesse had a chance against Viktor. The patient’s body squirmed under the force of one arm alone.

“Doc, doc, doc, you need to operate,” Jesse argued. “You n-need to-”

“Jesse,” Viktor snapped, and in response the man immediately stilled. Jesse’s lids seemed to then get heavier and his shoulders slumped.

“There we go,” soothed the ripperdoc with a smirk, his body stretching on his rolling stool. “Took your body a while. I gave you a little cocktail of mine, the Vektor special. Should feel nothin’ but good now.”

V set the requested meds on a metal table by his stool. Viktor grabbed one, shook it, and handed it wordlessly to his patient.

Turning on her heel, V was about to dismiss herself from the situation. Her role was fulfilled. The guy was maybe gonna be okay, and even though V interrupted several of Viktor’s appointments, she could at least attempt to respect Doctor-Patient confidentiality. The flaming crotch man seemed like a great place to start.

Just as she started to walk away, she felt a tight grip on her wrist.

“Nuh-uh,” said Viktor lowly, fingers giving a gentle squeeze. “I’ll need ya to stick around for this one, kiddo.”

“Think you got it, Vik,” she said with a grin. “Flaming dicks aren’t really my thing.”

“Oh, I know I got it,” he returned. “And flaming dicks aside, I’d rather have a second pair of hands should things head south. Normally I’d call for Misty, but she’s out today. Besides…”

Viktor rolled in closer to V, an air of confidence about him. V’s eyes narrowed.

“Would love to see you play nurse,” he purred.

A warmth stung her cheeks as she took her wrist back.

“So long as I don’t have to wear an outfit, I’ll help,” she quipped.

“Oh, don’t tempt me.”

The huskiness of his voice made her blush even more.

Viktor winked up at V before he turned his full attention back to his sedated patient.

Her attention, too, travelled back to Jesse as he huffed the med. Then, they fell on the surgical drape in his lap.

“So,” she prompted. “His dick was about to explode.”

Viktor hummed in agreement.

“You don’t, uh, seem that worried about it,” she went on.

A chuckle.

Even Jesse in his laxed state, sat up a bit for an explanation.

“We’re in the clear for now,” answered Viktor. More so to the patient, he added, “Now that you’re calm, your blood pressure isn’t forcing that faulty equipment to activate. Should be smooth sailing if you stay as relaxed as possible.”

“Oh, okay,” replied Jesse dumbly, no longer looking Viktor in the eye, but instead gazing up at the dark ceiling. “Um, what are, what are you going to do exactly, doc?”

“Gonna take that shitty tech out of your junk, Jess, that’s what. Guessing you got it for a steal, right? Black market shit? Some word from the Wise: Don’t ever accept tech that’s too good to be true. Ever. Especially if it’s an implant like this. I mean, you’re lookin’ at a few potential side effects that I can talk to you about after the procedure-”

“Wait, you can’t, like, fix it?”

Viktor sighed.

“Uh, no,” he replied flatly. “Not my specialty. And I don’t plan on being held liable for whatever, eh, works and doesn’t work. I can refer you to a guy I know in Charter Hill though.”

Jesse pouted in response, but after seeing how Viktor wasn’t going to budge on the issue, he consented to the procedure.

As time went by, V kept busy by fetching Viktor whatever supply he requested, whether it be more drugs, sutures, or gauze. Which was fine and ultimately best considering the kind of operation that was taking place. Not that V became squeamish around the sight and smell of blood, no. That wasn’t it. Just the nature of it all, that Vik was repairing a poor man’s augmented penis.

So much for a relaxing, care-free day.

The only saving grace to it all was seeing Viktor in his element. The man shined. He kept Jesse talking, eyes meeting his patient’s and on the monitor in equal measure, while also sounding personable and sincere. They exchanged stories about interests, about boxing matches they’ve seen, hobbies, some boring topics, some piquing her curiosity. Viktor’s voice held the same steadiness no matter the subject, and V’s heart warmed at watching him work with such care. Though she’s been in his operating chair herself probably hundreds of times, it was something special to see him work with someone else, to witness him calm even the most panicked of souls.

A goofy laugh gushed from Jesse, no doubt feeling the effects of all the medication.

“Ah man, you’re just so sexy,” he blurted.

V blinked at the realization that the comment was directed at her.

A listless ‘Mm’ was all she offered.

Viktor kept working, attributing the outburst to the drugs.

“I mean it!” said Jesse, misreading the woman’s lack of response. “You are just so gorgeous. So, so breathtaking. And you helped me-”

“I expect to be paid,” V reminded him.

“Yes, yes, and you deserve to. Yes, you deserve to! Doesn’t she deserve to be paid?”

Viktor offered a close-lipped smile in agreement, preferring to finish the operation as soon as humanly possible with the turn the conversation had taken. Just a few more stitches-

“Do you do advertisements?” continued Jesse, nearly sounding manic. “Do you? A supermodel maybe? You know, like a side gig sorta thing?”

V snorted.

“Nope, can’t say I would even want to, Jesse.”

“Huh, well, you should think about it. You would make a shit ton of eddies if you did, probably more than merc work. Not to objectify you, but like, you totally have the bod for the job.”

Viktor glanced up at V after that comment, his blood boiling at how Jesse’s advice rendered her speechless.

Not missing an awkward beat, Jesse then asked “So are ya single? Or is dating not your thing?”

V squared her shoulders.

“Don’t think you need to know that-”

“Come on! Gimme a hint. I mean, no judgment if you don’t date.”

“Good to know.”

“Yeah, I can keep it loose. What about you?”

Viktor’s jaw started to ache from how hard it was clenched.

“Actually,” said V, her voice perking up. “I am dating someone. And I like the guy. A lot. Pretty solid, so not really looking for anything else right now-”

In a voice that Viktor could only assume was supposed to be a whisper, Jesse said, “What he doesn’t know won’t hurt ‘im-”

A clank.

Viktor had put down a pair of surgical scissors so loudly that both Jesse and V jumped.

“V?” questioned the ripperdoc in a terse tone. “Mind grabbin’ our patient here a low-dose ‘Dorph for the road? ‘Bout finished up.”

A heavy sigh of relief left the merc as she headed towards the back of the clinic.

“You’ll need to take two huffs now and two more in an hour or so, okay?” said Viktor to Jesse, annoyed at catching Jesse’s eyes trailing after V.

“That woman,” he started to say, clearly missing what Viktor had said about the meds. “For such a smart mouth, she’s got a great ass, am I right-”

Without warning, Viktor’s fingers smacked the side of Jesse’s face with enough force to make him flinch. Stunned, Jesse immediately looked at Viktor.

Eyes locked on Jesse, Viktor called out to V.

“Hey, V? See any more of that stim I use? You know, the one that I need in case my hand slips?”

Some shuffling sounded from the back.

“Um, yeah,” she shouted. “Why?”

“I just did a lot of good work here on Jesse’s dick. Would hate for something to happen to it at the finish line.”

Jesse swallowed as he could feel the outline of Viktor’s intense stare past the tinted lenses. The ripperdoc sat close to his patient and spoke in a voice so dark that it made Jesse’s hair rise on the back of his neck.

“You’re my patient now, but the moment you step out of here, you’re just any other asshole on the street that hits on V in front of my face. Difference between now and then is that I’ll kick your goddamn teeth out on the curb should I hear another word out of that mouth of yours ‘bout how hot she looks and what the fuck she does with her body. You will pay her. Don’t care if you pay me, but unless you wanna know what the Bradbury sidewalk tastes like I better hear from V by the end of the day that you paid her in full for bringing you into my clinic today or so help you God I don’t find you and get those eddies myself.”

Jesse swallowed before nodding his head.

The only sound that could be heard in the clinic was V’s footsteps. She found it odd how still the men were sitting and how Jesse didn’t acknowledge her presence once she returned to the operating chair.

“Here,” she said to the ripperdoc, but Viktor shook his head at the stimulant she brought.

“You know, I actually think I won’t need it. He’s all set and ready to go. Aren’t you, Jesse?”

The guy would have some balls to respond. As expected, Jesse remained quiet. The ripperdoc’s back popped as he rose slowly from the stool, his body stiff from operating. He continued stretching as he walked towards the locker room area of his clinic to fetch Jesse a pair of stocked sweats that he set aside for patients.

V gave Viktor a questioning look and was met only with another classic wink.

“About my payment,” she began, turning her attention back to Jesse.

Still refusing to look her in the eye, Jesse stated, “I’ll get it to you in an hour.”

The man quickly dressed, thanked Viktor for his services, and rushed out of the clinic without looking back. Based on the smugness that Viktor carried himself with as he wiped down his workspace, V caught onto what happened.

With V’s help, the clinic was cleaned and prepped for the next fortunate soul who sought out Viktor’s care.

The pair were lounging on the ripperdoc’s crusty couch in the back of the clinic, their feet propped up on a stack of boxes with lukewarm takeout in hand.

“Not a fan of Jesse’s career advice, I take it?” teased V with a grin.

Viktor glowered as he swallowed a mouthful of noodles.

“Not a fan of really any advice he gave, no,” he replied coolly.

“Might lose future business,” she mocked, but he was already shaking his head.

“It’s all good. I’m eating lunch with a supermodel. Life can’t get any sweeter.”

[kellanswritingblog]

Some zoscar hurt/comfort set after the end of episode 173.  I figured I should post it now before we hit the next episode and it’s just all hurt lol

tw for blood, injury, broken bones, and mentions of death

The landing was a disaster. The ship itself wasn’t too badly damaged, besides the engine loss it experienced while in the Borealis.

The real harm was in the suffering of the crew.  Zolf and Cel were strapped in and managed to hold on when they crashed into the ground, and Hamid was flying a safe distance away.  But Azu, Wilde, Earhart, and all the others were either sent tumbling around the ship or thrown off of it entirely.

There wasn’t much any of them could do for some of them, no matter how hard they tried.  Between the height of the fall and impact with the trees and frozen ground… no amount of healing would bring them back from that.

Those who survived were tended to by Zolf and Azu, distributing magical bouts of healing to keep them alive and in as little pain as possible.  Azu had been smacked into the side of the ship during impact, but her guideline stayed intact, and she was in much better shape than some of the others.  Meanwhile, Cel and Earhart looked over the ship, and Hamid huddled up with the less-injured kobolds, who all held each other tight.

Zolf counted the survivors and the bodies.

“Where’s Wilde?”

“I thought…” Azu looked around and counted for herself.  “I don’t know.  I didn’t see which way he went.”

Zolf gestured to the injured Meerk lying before them.  “Do you got this?  I’m going to go look for him.”

“Yeah.  Don’t go too far, though.”  Her brow was furrowed with concern.

He nodded, then trudged away from the ship.  As he walked, he called out Wilde’s name – it wasn’t as if they had to worry about accidentally drawing unwanted attention, since the neon crashing ship took care of that already.

“Wilde!  Oscar?  Come on, where are you?”

The snow came up practically to Zolf’s waist, and he sunk even deeper in spots, but that didn’t slow him down when he finally saw Wilde’s body and the seeping red that surrounded it.

Zolf sprinted to him and knelt down at his side.

“Oscar?  Oscar, hang on.”  There was still a pulse, but only barely.  He had lost a lot of blood, and what looked like bone poked out from his arm.

Healing flowed through Zolf and into Wilde, but he didn’t wake.  Instead, he gave a shuddering breath, and remained still.

“Come on, Oscar.  Come on, please.  You stubborn ass, why weren’t you wearing your guideline?” Zolf cried as he pressed all of his healing into Wilde’s unmoving form.  “Why weren’t you paying attention?  Why did you have to get hurt?”

The tears that fell down Zolf’s face were half frozen.  When magic failed, Zolf put bandages and tourniquets on Wilde’s wounds, then began to set the obviously broken bone with his mundane healing knowledge, for what little good that would do.

Once that was done, Zolf continued to kneel at Wilde’s side for a moment longer to beg any benevolent power to bring him back, to make it right.  What good was hope if Wilde was gone?

Then, Zolf stood and tromped quickly back to the ship.

“Did you find him?” Azu asked.

“I did.  He’s alive… but barely.  I need help getting him back here.  I tried to heal him, but…”

Azu reached out, put a hand on Zolf’s shoulder, and gave it a squeeze.  “I still have some healing left in me.  Let’s see what we can do.”

Despite the optimism in her voice and gaze, it did little to soothe the terror raging inside of Zolf’s heart.

Zolf led Siggif and Barnes to where Wilde’s body lay, and they placed him on an impromptu stretcher to carry him back to the ship, then placed him before Azu.

“Oh.”  She spoke quietly, her voice barely more than an uttered breath. But Zolf heard it, and whatever hope remained in him that Wilde would recover started to fade.

“Yeah, it’s… it’s not good.”

“I’ll do what I can.” Pink light flowed from Azu’s hands into Wilde’s form, then she slumped.  “I need to save some healing for the others.  But he’s still breathing, and you managed to stop most of the bleeding.  He’s got a chance.”

Zolf nodded, though he felt despair take over.  Azu put a hand on Zolf’s shoulder again, then left him at Wilde’s side to tend to the other wounded.

“You…”  Zolf couldn’t even muster up the enjoyable annoyance he so often felt when dealing with Oscar.  Instead, he began to cry again.  “Please wake up.  Please be okay.  I mean, I know nothing is really okay right now, but… Wilde, I need you.  I don’t know how to keep going without you. Please.”

Wilde didn’t respond, of course.  Zolf picked up Wilde’s hand on his uninjured arm, lifted it to his lips, and pressed a slow kiss to the mitten that covered his skin.  He didn’t know what else to do, how else to help, so he continued to stand and hold Wilde’s hand, as if that alone would bring him back.

It didn’t, though, and soon enough the cold was getting to everyone.  Those who wound up relatively uninjured were tasked with moving the others inside, where they were at least sheltered from the elements and the flurry that fell around them.  They also brought the bodies on board, with every intention of returning them home whenever they got back to safe civilization.

Zolf and Azu stayed up throughout the night to tend to the injured.  Their own bodies were wracked with pain and exhaustion, but they had to keep going, and they were the best equipped to provide aid, even if they couldn’t muster anymore magic at the time.  Regardless, sometimes a balm or a fresh bandage or even a cup of water made all the difference.

He didn’t plan to fall asleep.  Zolf had sat at Wilde’s side during a quiet moment, half willing him to wake up and be alright.  He could have slept all day, if given the chance; between sailing through the Borealis and landing the Vengeance as successfully as possible, he was beat.  But there was still work to be done, and he didn’t plan to rest so soon.

However, the quiet croak of a familiar voice startled him awake, even from his darkest nightmares.

“Zolf?”

He practically fell out of his chair when he heard the noise and awoke with a start, then he righted himself and stood.

“Oscar?  Oscar, it’s me.  I’m here.  You’re alright, you’re going to be alright.”

Wilde was white as a sheet and his eyes blinked rapidly with confusion, but he was awake, and he was alive.

“What happened?”

“The ship… crashed. And just about everybody got tossed over the side when we hit the trees.  Why weren’t you wearing your bloody guideline, you insufferable…”  Zolf’s relief poured out in more tears.  “I’m just glad you’re…”

“Remind me to never let you drive an automobile if that’s how you park,” Wilde joked in a raspy voice, and Zolf let out a choked laugh.

“I should go get Azu. Together we’ll get you back up and running in no time.” His breath shuddering, Zolf wiped his tears.

Before he could move, however, Wilde’s good hand shot out and weakly held onto Zolf’s wrist. “First, I… Zolf… Thank you.”

“For what?  I’m the one that crashed the damn ship.”

Wilde shook his head. “For putting up with me.  For standing with me in all this chaos.  I’ve never said how grateful I am to not be fighting this war alone, and if I’d… if I’d died, you would never know.  So.  Here I am.”

“I still would’ve known,” Zolf murmured.  “And it’s not putting up with you.  You’re stubborn and infuriating, sure, but… I can’t imagine being anywhere else than at your side.”

“Kiss me.”

“I’m sorry?”  Zolf chuckled and hid his blushing face behind a hand.  “I think the blood loss has got you a little loopy.”

“I’m tired of walking around it.  We almost died, Zolf.  I don’t want to pretend that I don’t love you anymore.”

For a moment, Zolf lost himself in the sincerity of Oscar’s gaze, then he stepped forward and slowly kissed him.

“We’ve got fine timing, haven’t we?”  Zolf teased as he pulled away.

“If you hadn’t been so stubborn, maybe we would’ve gotten here before a near death experience in the unknown regions of Siberia.”

Zolf was relieved beyond measure that Wilde still had the health for snark.

“Yeah, because you definitely weren’t the one going all ‘oh, relationships are a danger right now, blah blah blah.’”

“They are a danger. But the greater danger is losing you.”

“You’re the one that almost died.  I think it’s more about losing you right now.”

Wilde smiled. “Fair.  Maybe just try not to lose any more engines, alright?”

“I’ll do my best. Now, I really am going to go get Azu. You’re in bad shape; it’ll take both of us to get you feeling better.”

He chuckled again, and replied, “Waking up to you?  Kissing you? I already feel lifetimes better.”

“That’s all well and good, but your arm is still broken, and you’ve definitely got a concussion and a bunch of internal trauma.  So, sit tight, and I’ll be right back.”

Before he left, Zolf pressed a quick kiss to Wilde’s forehead, and then darted off to find Azu, wherever she might be.  Surely the others were working on some sort of plan, but Zolf had only one goal: to ensure Wilde survived and was restored to health.  He didn’t plan on losing him now that they’d finally realized their feelings couldn’t be put off any longer.

[stevesnailbat]

realizations | steve harrington

REQUESTS USED:

hi love!! could you write a fluffy steve harrington x reader that takes place during season 2? like maybe she stays behind with the kids and steve when the others go to get the mindflayer out of will and seeing steve protect the kids just makes the reader realize she’s in love w/ him. i’ll leave the rest of the plot up to you, don’t feel any pressure to write it if you’re too busy or not inspired! thanks! 🦋💕

hi! could you write steve x fem!reader where she is waiting for him come back from his date and realizes how much she likes him? pls and thank u

warnings: none really?

word count: 2.0K

It wasn’t supposed to be like this. Nothing felt okay, but it wasn’t like she could change what was happening. The world felt like it was falling apart as she sped through Hawkins in the dead of night with four kids packed into Billy Hargrove’s Camaro with a very unconscious Steve Harrington in the backseat. Pure chaos had ensued a few hours before, but there had been no time for her to process what was happening until this moment. Her eyes flickered to the rearview mirror occasionally, checking on Dustin as he tended to Steve’s battered face as a sinking feeling settled in her stomach.

What was it that she was feeling? She couldn’t decipher her emotions in the moment, couldn’t understand what the nauseousness she felt every time she looked at Steve actually meant. But there was no time for that, so she distracted herself by staring at the road in front of her.

A few groans came from the backseat and Dustin began to whisper something that she couldn’t decipher from the front seat, but she knew that Steve was waking up. She looked to Lucas, who sat in the passenger seat, to seek some kind of ease, but was only met with the same worried expression that she held. As expected, the boy in the backseat began to panic soon after, voice filled with terror as realization hit him.

She couldn’t focus on what was happening in the backseat as Lucas began to shout nonsense directions her way, telling her to turn into a field instead of onto a road. Still, she did what he said, because she was sure he knew more about the situation than she did. There was a collective scream that echoed through the car as she pulled the sharp left, followed by whines of pain as she brought the car to a halting stop.

Soon enough, they were all piling out of the car and grabbing their things from the trunk of the car. She looked over to Steve, seeing the utterly confused and upset look on his face as she put a bandana over her mouth for protection.

“Hey, where do you think you’re going?” Steve demanded, watching as Mike walked towards the hole that seemed to lead straight to hell. “What are you, deaf? Hello? We are not going down there right now. I made myself clear.”

She looked to Steve once more, noticing each of the kids purposefully ignoring his protests as he grew angrier. There wasn’t much she knew about the situation, but she knew that Steve was only trying to protect them from the demodogs that they had ran into earlier in the day.

“Hey, there’s no chance we’re going into that hole, all right? This ends right now!” he exclaimed once more, only getting a reaction out of Dustin.

“Steve, you’re upset, I get it. But the bottom line is, a party member requires assistance, and it is our duty to provide that assistance.” Dustin explained as Steve narrowed his eyes at the boy. “Now, I know you promised Nance that you would keep us safe. So, keep us safe.”

Begrudgingly, Steve followed them into the hole after pulling a bandana and goggles on. She watched as he dropped into the hole, following close behind him. She nearly tripped as she dropped down, but Steve caught her before she could fall to the vine-covered ground.

“Be careful, alright?” he said to her as he steadied her on her feet, voice muffled by the bandana around his face. “We don’t need you all beat up too, right?”

“Yeah, sorry.” she laughed bitterly, heart fluttering slightly as she could tell he was smiling under all of the protection.

They looked at each other for a fleeting moment, fear and wonder apparent in the air without saying a word. The kids were talking, but she couldn’t hear what they were saying over the sound of her own heartbeat. Sure, Steve had looked at her for longer than a second before, they were best friends for fucks sake. But, there was something hidden in the look that she couldn’t quite understand yet, and she knew she didn’t have the time to comprehend it. Before either of them could say anything to the other, Steve snapped his attention to the kids in front of them who were already navigating through the tunnel.

“Whoa, whoa, whoa. Hey, hey, hey, hey. I don’t think so.” he called out, starting towards the front of the group as Mike questioned him. “Any of you little shits die down here, I’m getting the blame. Got it, dipshit? From here on out, I’m leading the way. Come on, let’s go.”

Minutes felt like hours as they trudged through the tunnels, a feeling of dread taking over while watching the kids struggle. The only thing she could seem to think of to distract herself was Steve and how he was leading them to this hub with damn near no fear, like he’d rather himself get hurt than any of the others. After a few minor complications, they reached what they were looking for, the hub. They drenched the area with gasoline, and Steve pulled his lighter from his pocket, flicking the top of it open. His eyes flickered to hers for a moment, full of fear as the flame started in his hands.

“I am in such deep shit.” he scoffed to her, throwing the lighter towards the gas-covered vines.

Steve pushed her and the kids in the other direction, trying to make it to the exit as quickly as possible. The rest of the time in the tunnels went by in an instant, her heart racing at a thousand miles a minute. When they got back to the hole, she nearly fell on top of Steve as she came up, but he caught her again.

“What’d I tell you about being careful?” Steve teased, an exhausted smile on his lips as he pulled his bandana off.

That day came and went slowly, but it was finally over, and that’s all she could ask for. Steve did everything in his power to protect her and the kids that day and she couldn’t get it out of her mind.

Weeks passed and things seemed to be getting back to normal. Her and Steve were back to being just best friends, not partners in fighting other-worldly monsters. They were back to telling each other everything, like the old times. But, something was different. Steve was still coping with losing Nancy during the whole mess, so he was a little more distant than before. She didn’t mind, though. She needed her own time do cope with the fact that life as she knew it had been changed forever. And, she needed her own time to deal with whatever she had felt that night when she saw Steve unconscious in the backseat of the Camaro.

“I think things are finally looking up again.” Steve said confidently to her over the phone one day.

“Oh yeah? Why’s that?” she asked with genuine curiosity, laughing to herself at Steve’s sudden optimism.

“I got a date for today, with Stacey Adams.” he said matter-of-factly, she could tell he was smiling through the phone, but her heart sunk as he spoke.

“Well that sounds—fun.” she said while cringing, trying to sound happy for him as she spoke. “We’re still having movie night tonight though, right? We always have movie nights on Sunday’s.”

“Of course! I planned it for during the day so I could still come over tonight.” he replied. “But, I gotta go get ready, alright? I’ll see you tonight at 7!”

Before she could respond, the line went dead with a dial tone. She let her hand fall slack, nearly dropping the phone as she did. Putting the phone up, she felt that sinking feeling settle into her stomach once more. The dull ache grew stronger as she moved to lie down on her back and stare at the ceiling.

It wasn’t until she heard Steve say that he was going out with someone else that she realized what she had been so worried about on that night when she saw her unconscious best friend in the backseat. She finally understood that she wanted to be something more than just a best friend to Steve Harrington, she wanted to be his. The sinking feeling in her stomach was heartache and love mixed together, for someone who had never shown any signs of either towards her.

The next five hours were spent by trying to fully comprehend her feelings and how she could tell him—or not tell him—about what was happening. She went back and forth between putting their friendship on the line by confessing everything to him and keeping it all bottled up for the rest of their lives.

Her thoughts were interrupted by a rapid knock on the front door that she recognized immediately, it was Steve. She put on a fake smile as she rushed to the front door, taking deep breaths to compose herself as she opened it. The look on Steve’s face was confusing to her, it wasn’t overly excited or overly upset.

“Hey, how was your date?” she blurted out, almost unable to stop her nosy thoughts as she let him in.

“It was okay.” he shrugged, shuffling into the living room with an unamused expression. “She was boring, all she wanted to do was gossip and I honestly couldn’t care less about any of the shit she was talking about.”

“Sounds like you’re never going to ask her out again, right?” she teased, hope creeping up in her as she spoke.

“Yeah, probably not.” he chuckled, plopping down on the couch. “I just—I don’t know what to expect from girls now, I guess? I have too high of standards, maybe.”

“Your standards are high after dating a girl who dumped you for the guy she told you not to worry about?” she implored, eyes narrowed as Steve rolled his eyes at her.

“No, not because of Nancy.” he sighed, voice wavering as he spoke, as if he was nervous about something.

“Then why do you think they’re so high?” she asked while searching through the TV stand cabinets for a movie, faced away from Steve to save herself from more heartbreak and unable to see him staring at her.

“Because the best person for me has been right in front of me forever, but I didn’t know how to tell her.” he said quickly, making her heart and the movie in her hands drop. “It took me going on a date with Stacey to realize that I’ve been right next to the right girl for me this whole time."

“Steve—“ she started, but couldn’t bring herself to finish as she processed what he had said.

“Yeah?” he said, almost regretting what he had said as she refused to look back at him. “Y’know, actually? Just—Just forget I said that, it was stupid.”

“No, it wasn’t stupid, Steve.” she said softly, finally daring to lock eyes with him; the look on his face was serious but more nervous than she had ever seen.

“You don’t think so?” he asked hopefully, watching as she walked towards the couch carefully.

“As long as you were talking about me, then yes. I don’t think it’s stupid.” she laughed, sitting down next to him. “I think I feel the same. Seeing you with those kids, putting your life on the line them so selflessly and seeing you protect us made me realize what I had been missing out on this whole time.”

“Well, in that case. I can finally do what I’ve been waiting to do all day.” he mumbled, inching his face dangerously close to hers.

There was only a small gap between them as she looked up at him, a smile on his lips as he looked at her lovingly. His lips were soft and the kiss was gentle, nothing like what she expected their first kiss to be like. It was almost calming, how sweet the kiss was. That sinking feeling that had settled in her stomach weeks before was finally all the way gone, she felt like she didn’t have anything to worry about anymore. It wasn’t supposed to be like this, she wasn’t supposed to fall in love with her best friend, but it was okay. Everything felt alright now.

tags: @sourapplebaby @harringtown @charmed-asylum @lemonypink @daddystevee @jxnehxpper @a-magey @igotmadskills @heart-eye-harrington @queenofthehairharrington

[miracul0us-multishipper]

The cure

“Okay.”, Marillion turned away from the railing, back to her champion. “I think I bought us a few moments.”

The heroes would be back, no doubt, but not before she could handle the situation on her own.

“Stoneheart, give Mylène a little room to breath! You’re trapping her.”

“Oh!”, he immediately opened his hand so Mylène sat on his gigantic palm instead of being stuck in his fist. “Sorry, Mylène!”

This, however, did not help to make her more comfortable. Quite the opposite: She threw one look over the edge of Stonehearts hand, realized they were on top of the Eiffel Tower, and curled into a pitiful ball of fear. Stammering an apology, Ivan closed his hand around her until she was safely tucked into his fist again.

Oh dear. She had to do something!

“Look, I know you must be afraid,” she tried to calm the trembling Mylène, hopping on Stonehearts arm to be a little closer to her. The girl looked at her with obvious apprehension.

“I swear, scaring you like this was not our intention. Right, Stoneheart?”

Ivan nodded eagerly, as docile as a puppy now. She sighed.

“He just wanted a chance to talk to you! So... would you listen to him? Just listening should do the trick.”

Mylène hid her face behind Ivan’s giant thumb.

“I just want to go home!”, she whimpered and Marillion patted her back in sympathy.

“I know, and I’m awfully sorry it came to all this mess. But I can’t transform Ivan back until he’s got it off his chest, so I really, really need your help.”

Mylène looked at her, considering her options and Marillion sat down.

“Hey, he’s not going to be mean to you, I promise. He’s a softie! And once he’s said what he wants to tell you, I’ll personally bring you back home myself. Alright?”

Mylène sniffled, but looked a little hopeful now.

“O... Okay.”

She turned to Ivan.

“Okay. I’ll listen.”

Stoneheart beamed, letting himself fall into a sitting position.

“So, this morning, when I tried to speak to you before the lesson started...”

Marillion jumped off of his arm and onto the platform to give them a little space. Ivan could handle it, now. With her nearby to keep him in check, no heroes to interrupt and no Chloé to provoke him, he would finally be able to speak his heart and cleanse the Akuma.

Everything would be alri-

“Lucky Charm!”, yelled a far too familiar voice right then, a second before something hard - a parachute?! - hit Marillion right in the face. The momentum slammed her into into the railing and she saw stars.

“I do not think this is how you were supposed to use it.”, Chat Noir commented as he landed next to his goddamn partner, who only scoffed at him.

“What, are you going to cat-splain my powers to me, Kitty? Obviously, it worked just fine!”

“Stoneheart!”, Marillion groaned, more out of annoyance than pain. “Get Mylène to safety - again! Because these damn idiots are back - again! So I’m going to kick. their. asses,” she snarled, getting back to her feet, “AGAIN!”

With a roar Stoneheart jumped over the railing, about to climb down the tower, as she deflected Ladybirds yo-yo with her cane and attacked her. But she should have gone for Chat Noir instead: While she was busy fighting Ladybird, the cat had jumped over them and attacked Stonehearts free hand holding onto the tower. Startled, Stoneheart lost his grip, slowly fell backwards... and instinctively opened his other hand to catch himself. The hand holding Mylène - and the Akuma!

“Catch Mylène!”, she ordered frantically and he obeyed, allowing the triumphant Chat Noir to dive past him and throw the akumatized ball of paper back to Ladybird.

“No!”, Marillion screamed, but the cackling dumbass that was Ladybird had already broken the object.

Time seemed to slow down.

The purple Akuma, released from its target, was fleeing skywards. Stoneheart’s powers faded immediately and he transformed back, losing his hold on the railing. He fell, and Mylène with him.

Marillion had seen the most ridiculously unfortunate scenarios play out around her for years - she just had that kind of luck. She’d always noticed the chain reactions of disaster unfold just in time to prepare for the embarrassment, never soon enough to stop it.

But this was different. Lives were at stake. And she had superpowers.

Time resumed its usual pace and her body moved on its own, her mind preceding it.

Three problems at hand: Ivan falling, Mylène falling, and an Akuma on the loose.

Three persons present: Ladybird, Chat Noir, and Marillion herself.

Ladybird hadn’t expected Stoneheart to detransform and wouldn’t notice in time; she was too busy with the Akuma. Chat Noir was closest to Ivan and had his staff to catch himself. That left Mylène and Marillion.

Within a heartbeat she had grabbed the parachute Ladybird had thrown into her face. She had no time to worry about the height, she was already jumping over the railing and diving after Mylène.

As expected, Chat had caught Ivan and saved them with an unorthodox use of cataclysm - why didn’t you just use your damn staff, idiot?! - so she passed him without taking her eyes off of the screaming girl. Using all of her strength she grabbed Mylène around the waist and held onto her, then she opened the parachute.

An audible sigh escaped the girl and she clung to Marillion like a life line.

“It’s okay, you’re safe!”, the butterfly sighed. Laughing with relief she added: “Promised I’d get you back safe, didn’t I?”

-

Marillion didn’t wait for Ladybird to catch up with her. By the time the Miraculous Cure washed through the streets of Paris, she was long gone and back in her room, detransformed. Nooroo was sitting on her chaise lounge, stuffing himself with candy like his life depended on it. Nadja Chamack did her News Report in the TV, and of course there was only one topic.

“...Both students have returned home unharmed, and thanks to our new superhero Ladybird, all damages to our beloved city have been undone as well.”, she said with an unusual optimism. “It seems that the supervillain calling herself “Marillion” is not as much of a threat as feared. Let’s hope Ladybird and Chat Noir will continue to keep us safe!”

“Hmp!”, Marinette scoffed and turned the TV off. “Keeping them safe? Pah! I was the one who saved Mylène, wasn’t I?!”

“It’s okay, Marinette.”

Nooroo swallowed the last bit of candy before turning to look at her, a sad smile on his face.

“It was worth a try. I’m sure the guardian will understand.”

“What...?”

Realisation hit her and she jumped up.

“No! You can’t go back! You’ll be trapped forever!”

Nooroo floated up and patted her on the forehead.

“It’s safer that way.”, he shrugged. “I’m only creating chaos here.”

“No, no! Just... just look at today!”

He looked up at her, confused.

“Today?”

“Yes!”, she hurried to continue. “Sure, the public thinks we’re the bad guys. But if we hadn’t decided to akumatize Ivan, all these people would still be monsters, right?”

“Well... you have a point, but-“

“A-And Ivan! He finally confessed to Mylène, and now that she read his song, she actually likes him back! They looked so happy when we left, don’t you think so?”

Nooroo looked pensive.

“That... is true.”

He smiled.

“And they make such a cute couple too!”

Relieved that he was listening, she kneeled down in front of him.

“Who cares what the others say,” she shrugged. “If you ask me, we achieved some really great things today. Plus, I threw Chat Noir off the Eiffel Tower.”

She smirked gleefully.

“That definitely made my week.”

Nooroo snorted and settled into her cupped hand.

“Why, I’m glad you had fun, Marinette.”

“I did.”, she assured him. “I’ve never felt so... light before, Nooroo. So graceful and free. It was... miraculous.”

Her Kwami sighed deeply.

“But what if someone else gets upset around you? You’d have to suffer their misery as well.”

“Then we could akumatize them too!”

“What?!”

“It’s how your power is meant to be used, remember? To help people, like we helped Ivan. True, the way we did it was a little... rocky, but if something went really wrong, there’s always that annoying Ladybird, right? She can reverse any collateral damage. Besides...”

She booped his nose.

“I’d miss you if went and trapped yourself.”

A sniffle came from her lilac little friend.

“R-really?”

“Of course, Nooroo. Very much.”

He rubbed his teary eyes clean, then he smiled.

“Then I will stay with you, as long as you’ll have me...”

He bowed.

“...Master Marinette.”

-

When Marinette walked into the classroom alongside Alya the next day, the classroom was abuzz with chatter.

“I’m telling you, Marillion was super nice!”, Ivan insisted, holding hands with an eagerly nodding Mylène. “I’ve even still got all my memories from yesterday. She was honestly trying to help me!”

“Help you destroy the City?”

“No, you dork. Helping me confess.”

“So what, she’s like, Matchmaker Marillion?”, Nino threw in. “Sounds more like a stage name.”

“We shouldn’t take a supervillain this lightly. There’s a 89.7% chance she will strike again.”

“I’m not sure if she’s a villain.”, Mylène tried to argue. “She was looking out for me the entire time, and she saved my life!”

“Excuse me?!”, Alya suddenly spoke up, making Marinette jump. “Ladybird saved your life! When she freed you from Stoneheart! Marillion was just doing damage control for her image when she caught you, ‘cause she knew she’d lost. Also, wasn’t it Ladybird’s parachute that she used?”

She snapped her fingers.

“Check and mate, girl.”

Marinette sighed deeply. Looks like the most wonderful girl in the world is fangirling over the most useless one. Tragic.

The discussion went on as she quickly pulled Alya away before she could yell any further. The fiery haired menace made a move to fight her tugging, but stopped when she realized where Marinette was pulling her.

“Let’s sit here.”, she smiled at her best friend, pointing at the seat Chloé had claimed for herself yesterday. A gleeful grin spread on Alyas face and she sat down without further ado. Nailed it.

-

When Chloé stormed into the room, telling her off felt even better than being Marillion to her. The blondes face was an angry shade of red, but to everyone’s surprise, she sat down on the place Marinette pointed to.

“You’ll pay for that, eventually.”, Chloé scoffed. “When I tell Paris’ new hero, who is incidentally my BFF, about how rude you are, she’ll swoop in and teach you for treating me like that.”

“Oh?”, Alya snickered. “Paris’ rising star is your new best friend, now? Tell us about it!”

“You don’t deserve to know anything about her!”, Chloé snapped, but only managed to stay quiet for a second before the urge to boast overwhelmed her. “She’s the most powerful hero of them all, obviously, and of course she adores me. She’s strong, and quick, and absolutely exceptional!”

A dreamy expression sneaked in Chloé’s eyes as she went into raptures about Ladybird.

“She’s the prettiest too, and the only one with a fashion sense as good as mine. And she alone saved Paris from that superpowered menace, yesterday.”

“My, my, Chloé!”, Alya mocked her. “If I didn’t know any better, I’d say you had a crush on Ladybird.”

The class - childish as always - roared with laughter, but Chloé only pulled up an eyebrow.

“Who?”, she asked, and everybody froze mid-movement. Kim, who’d been in the middle of swiping away a tear of laughter, still had a finger under his eye.

“Oh, you mean that ridiculously incompetent wannabe in red, right?”, Chloé continued without a care. “Pah, as if I’d wanna be seen with that fashion disaster! No, Marillion is the true hero - of Paris and of the fashion world. Tailcoats look just exquisite on her.”

For a moment it was quiet, then the entire debate from earlier roared up and Marinette had to stop Alya from going for Chloé’s jugular.

“Wow, suddenly I have no respect at all for Marillion anymore.”, Ivan said in shock as Mylène patted his arm. “Yeah, if Chloé likes her, we were definitely wrong.”

Pah!

Traitors!

-

She stayed longer after school, to deposit some candy reserves for Nooroo in her locker. Unfortunately, that meant she that when she left the school, it had already begun to rain. Just her luck.

Sighing she stepped back under the roof, hoping it would just be a quick shower and she’d get home dryly if she just waited a few minutes. Of course, her bad luck didn’t just end there though.

“Hey!”, said a tentative voice next to her, and she turned away when she realized it belonged to Adrien Agreste. Chewing-gum-boy. Chloé-friend.

“Look, about yesterday...”, he started anyway. “I really was trying to take it off.”

Yeah, a friend of Chloé tries to help. Fat chance.

That thought made her pause. Just this morning Chloé had announced Marillion to be her friend, and immediately, everyone had stopped showing support for the butterfly. She’d been bummed about that, hadn’t she? So... shouldn’t she give Adrien a chance?

She looked at him, signaling him that she was listening. Relieved he continued.

“I’ve never been to school before. Chloé has been my only friend for years now. All of this is... new to me.”, he admitted. “So I might be a little clueless sometimes, and act weird, or say the wrong thing. I’m sorry if I came across as a bully yesterday.”

He looked wistfully at the school behind them.

“But I really, really want this. Going to a public school, and making friends, and learning everything I’ve been missing out on.”

He smiled. A sad, but genuine smile, so warm and open she didn’t even need the impulse of her brooch to know that his apology was sincere. It made her heart ache for him and filled her stomach with butterflies. When Adrien opened his umbrella and turned to leave, she surprised herself by reaching for his arm.

“Just so you know...”, she said as he looked at her with these vibrant green eyes. “...I... I like to make new friends too.“

His hopeful face turned into a smile.

“Then I hope we can befriend each other.”

With a chuckle, he held out the umbrella to her. Flattered she reached out to take it - only to accidentally snap it shut and trap herself inside.

A startled laugh escaped Adrien, a sound sweeter than the bells of Notre Dame. She couldn’t help but join him, giggling nervously at her own clumsiness. He didn’t make her feel like a failure, even if he laughed at her. No, he just genuinely thought it was harmlessly funny, and worth a laugh. After the day she’d had, fun was exactly what she’d needed. Adrien was exactly what she had needed.

“See you tomorrow then!”, he said, running down the stairs towards a silver car.

“Y-Yeah! See you morrow-to, I mean, you tomorrow see! Wait, no...”

Another giggle reached her ears, this time from her purse.

“Has that boy stolen your speech?”, he teased and she grimaced.

“Nooroo!”

“What did he look like? Was he very pretty? What was his name?”

She blushed, quickly running down the stairs.

“Well... yes, he was very pretty.”, she was forced to admit, though not without a groan. “Oh man, not again!”

She’d just started crushing on her best friend, she couldn’t like another person as well, could she?!

“It’s Love,” Nooroo only said when she voiced her concern. “It’s the greatest force in the universe, it doesn’t follow any rules. This is just another proof for what I knew from the moment I saw you.”

“Hm?”

“That you have a big heart, full to the brim with love!”

“Oh you~!”, she waved off, reminiscing about the way she’d felt when Adrien had looked at her. As if she might float away.

“His name is Adrien.”, she sighed. “Adrien Agreste.”

Beside her, Nooroo stiffened.

“A... Adrien Agreste?”

“Yeah, like the designer. Gabriel Agreste, you know him?”

Nooroo ducked into her collar and watched as the silver car passed them, carefully staying out of sight.

“Yes.”, Nooroo said with wide eyes, already feeling the purple mist that would leave his mouth if he tried to say the wrong name.

“I know him.”

[valkyrieofthehighfae]

Horseshoes, Hand grenades, and Gargoyles

Summery: Hally Lavellan has been hired to take on a clan of gargoyles on her own. Explosives and chaos ensue and the elven woman finds herself in a world of excitement.

Word Count: 1.9k

Warnings: Violence, language

Tagging: @thearohandmaiden, @capricornrabies, @notreallybeccab, @meshlamando​​

It was late when I got the call from Keres’ guard, Sylvain I think his name was, requesting my assistance in an important matter. I was a little confused as to why the Blood Fae was requesting for my help exactly since, y’know, elves and Fae don’t like each other much, but I was getting paid, so I wasn’t about to turn him down.

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry, did you say you’d pay me to make weapons and go kill a clan of gargoyles? Fuck yes! I get to make things explode, this is the happiest day of my life!” I was grinning widely at the big guy’s words, absolutely excited to get paid to blow shit up. This was the dream! “When do you need me? Uh huh. Okay, I can be there in a week. No, no, it’ll only take me twenty minutes tops to make everything I need, it’s the ride there that’s gonna take that long. And, uh, convincing Rune that this is a good idea. My fee is six thousand gold to cover expenses on materials, travel, and on the offhand that I lose a limb doing this. Well, another limb anyway.” I rubbed my right arm, wincing at the thought of going through another loss of a limb. One prosthetic was more than enough, thank you.

“Brilliant! I’ll get to work and see ya in a week.” I ended the call and jumped to it, grabbing my sketchpad and began designing a grenade launcher and rocket launcher of my own design, turning on my music and cranking it loudly as I got to work, welding and hammering, singing along with the tunes excitedly. I was so into my work, I didn’t notice Rune at first until she was turning my music off, startling me.

“Lahalaan Lavellan, I have been yelling at you for the past twenty minutes. What are you doing?” Rune had her hands on her hips, glaring daggers at me and I winced a little bit, grinning awkwardly.

“I’m making a grenade launcher and rocket launcher. I just got a call from Keres’ guard about hiring me to make them and go kill a clan of gargoyles!” I didn’t falter under her glare, my baby sister not as intimidating as she thought she was.

“I-I’m sorry, you what?” She was staring at me like I’d grown a second head and I assumed she hadn’t heard what I told her.

“I was hired to make a grenade launcher and go kill gargoyles.” I was ecstatic over the idea, I had been dying for a little action, it had been so boring lately, so this was going to be a blast. So to speak.

“I… do you have a plan at least?” Rune wasn’t even shocked at this point, she just rolled with it. Guess she was too used to my shenanigans for anything to surprise her anymore, which was mildly disappointing. I needed to do better about keeping her on her toes clearly.

“Yes!” I grinned then stopped for a moment and frowned a bit. “No… Yes!” I had to cycle through a couple of thoughts for a moment before coming to a full decision, but I was almost certain that I had at least half a plan put together.

“This is either madness, or brilliance.” Rune was pinching the bridge of her nose at my response, her voice sounding tired and resigned.

“It’s remarkable how often those two traits coincide with each other.” I pointed out, much to her irritation clearly with that groan she let out before walking out of my workshop, grumbling in elven. I chuckled softly before turning my music back on and getting back to work on my project, wanting to get it all completed and ready to go.

~*~*~

One week later, Rune and I were riding up to the palace on our harts, the two of us looking up at the famed Scarlet Keep with wide eyes.

“Whoa. It’s so much bigger than I was expecting it to be,” I muttered in elvish to Rune, who nodded slowly, eyes the size of dinner plates as we got closer to the keep. Waiting outside for us was Keres, the Blood Fae queen grinning as we hopped off the harts and approached her, the Fae hugging us tightly.

“What are you two doing here? I wasn’t expecting to host you! Not that I’m unhappy to see you, of course, I’m glad you two are here.” Keres stepped back, puzzled now that our greetings were over and done with.

“We’re here to kill gargoyles!” I was beaming. “Well, okay, I’m here to kill gargoyles. She’s here to make sure I don’t blow myself up.” I pointed at Rune and Keres just stood there, head slightly tilted, and brow furrowed.

“I’m… sorry? I don’t recall asking you to come do that?” Keres was puzzled, trying to determine when she asked us to be gargoyle exterminators.

“You didn’t. I did,” Sylvain came walking out, dressed in that imposing ass armor of his that had Rune shifting closer to me, hiding a little bit from the intimidating Fae. “Got here just in time too. Do you have what you need?”

“Oh yeah,” I grinned motioning to the grenade launcher and rocket launcher plus the bag of ammo. “So, where’s our quarry? Oooh I sound like a bounty hunter when I say it like that.”

Rune rolled her eyes and shook her head, smacking me upside the head lightly, earning a scowl from me as I rubbed my noggin where she smacked me.

“You know, how’s Opal gonna feel about you being this stoked to kill gargoyles?” Rune inquired with a cocked eyebrow, bringing up our gargoyle friend in the Court of Stars. I opened my mouth to reply, then shut it again, thinking that over. What if this was her clan we were about to murderize?

“We don’t tell her about this…?” I ventured after a moment of awkward silence and Rune sighed heavily, rubbing her temples. The frustration was palpable and Keres snorted a little bit, muttering that this reminded her of her and Ajax a bit. “Anyway, let’s get moving! I wanna get going while there’s still daylight.” I pulled a map out of the bag I had with me and unfolded it so Sylvain could mark where we needed to go.

“We managed to take out quite a few of them, but I don’t know how many are left. There’s this old ruin they took over as their home, your best bet would be to start there.” Sylvain took my pen, marking the map and trail we needed to use.

“Brilliant. I’m expecting half of my payment upfront and the other half upon completion. You good with that?” I folded the map back up, handing it over to Rune, and accepted the small leather pouch he handed over, tossing it up in the air a few times, before palming it and sliding it into my bra. “Onword, Buttercup! There’s fuckery to spread!” I was cackling, scrambling up onto my hart’s back while Rune groaned.

“Only Varric gets to call me ‘Buttercup’, Hally.” She muttered darkly as we took off, waving at Sylvain and Keres. This was going to be intense and I was a little nervous; these were old elven ruins, who knows just how many gargoyles were there calling it home. I was almost a little nervous that I hadn’t made enough ammunition for this job, what if there were more gargoyles than originally planned on? I was getting too into my own head over this, I needed to pull myself together and focus on the job at hand. Just had to get through this and we’d be six thousand gold richer. Could use it to buy Rune a new bed since she and Spooks broke hers on accident, maybe stock up on some more supplies for the clan. This was going to be just fine.

~*~*~

“Was this part of the plan?!” Rune bellowed, hurling a fireball at a group of gargoyles hot on our heels as we raced through the elven ruins.

“No! No it was not!” I shouted back, turning long enough to hurl an explosive behind us, yelping as we got tossed forward from the blow back. We scrambled to our feet and took cover long enough for me to load up the grenade launcher and fire it off, wincing slightly from the kickback.

“You don’t even have a plan!” Rune realized quickly, hitting my arm angrily. I smacked her back, glaring at the pissed off mage and shook my head a little bit, trying to do some calculations in my head.

“I do too! Sort of!” I didn’t have shit but she didn’t need to know that. I was at least trying to come up with something, but thinking was a little hard when I was currently having to keep an eye out on my surroundings for fucking gargoyles. Now I got why Sylvain wanted this place cleared out, this clan was huge.

“Oh, brilliant, so you have half a plan?!” She conjured up a blizzard to slow them down and I crammed another grenade into the launcher, getting it set up for round two.

“Even better! I have a quarter of a plan!” No I fucking didn’t, I didn’t have shit. I was flying by the seat of my pants here and was winging this job.

“Brilliant! We’re gonna die!”

“There’s that Rune optimism I love! We’re not gonna die, it’s gonna be fine!” I lied through my teeth with a devilish grin. Had to keep my little sister reassured that we would be fine, that I was going to keep us safe. “Wait. Wait, wait, wait. I’ve got an idea! Rune, start running!” I grabbed the rocket launcher, getting it set up and fished out some smoke bombs I’d made, yanking the pins and hurling them over our cover while Rune sprinted towards the exit. I took aim at the roof of the ruins, took a deep breath and fired the rocket, tossing the weapon aside and hauling ass as fast as I could after Rune as the ruins came down around me, Rune thankfully outside.

“Hally?! HALLY!”

I burst out of a cloud of smoke, dirt, and debris, coughing hard and collapsed to my knees, trying to catch my breath, and looked over my shoulder. There was no way any of them would have survived that, it took out the entire building, making it collapse in on itself.

“Sorry you can’t study that particular ruin, sis. Told you I had a plan.” I panted, taking her outstretched hand and getting to my feet. “Was it a good plan? No, no it wasn’t. But it worked!”

“You pulled that out of your ass right then and there, didn’t you? There was never any plan, you just went in without thinking. Well, okay, I say you weren’t thinking, but you definitely were thinking. Thinking about one thing: explosions. As per usual with your damaged brain.” She took her staff and hit me in the head with it, making me yelp.

“Why do you have to hit me?! That’s not gonna make me any smarter!”

“It might if I hit you hard enough!”

“Let’s just go collect the rest of my money please. I need a shower. And we have a week-long ride home. Hey, think Keres will let us stay at the palace tonight?” I asked and Rune just threw her hands into the air, stalking off without answering. “Rune? C’mon, what do you think?” I called after her retreating back, breaking into a jog to catch up with her, hoping that Keres would be cool and let us crash there for a night. Fighting gargoyles was a lot tougher than I’d originally thought and I wanted a shower and a nap.

[sgtrolandhills]

Simple Kind of Man || Nicodemus & Roland

TIMING: Last week some time, before Regan does a loud PARTIES: @bountybossier & @sgtrolandhills SUMMARY: A weary Roland runs into Nic at a bar. The two chat and have some good life talks. 

Normally, Roland could find comfort in his work. That had always been a constant in his life. It was why he had excelled in school and in his career, but now, he just wasn’t so sure. Now that it seemed like he was falling short at every corner in his career, he didn’t know where to find comfort. Most of the cases that came across his desk lead him to more questions than answers and that night spent in that abandoned house with Stryder still haunted him. Reading through case files wasn’t going to dull the lingering pain that maybe he wasn’t nearly as good at his job as he thought he was. He couldn’t help but think his father would have been able to figure all of this out. In his mind, his dad had always been this larger than life figure. Jim Hills had always dutiful and committed to honoring the city he served. His dedication motivated Roland much of his life, but even outside of work, it always seemed like his dad had the answers. When the road ahead looked dangerous or unclear, he’d always drove on and somehow knew the way. Roland would have given anything for some of his guidance right now. Instead, the only Jim in his life would have to be Jim Beam. He ordered his whiskey neat with a pint of Sam Adams to wash it down and let out a disgruntled sigh, not even realizing there was a man sitting next to him. “Sorry,” he grumbled, “It’s been a bit of a day-- week-- month.”

As fun as the idea of sitting at home and drinking alone in the dark was, Nicodemus needed some kinda noise to drown out his thoughts. Hell, when had he ever been so worried? Months later, he supposed accidental murder had that effect on a person. He stressed the word accidental and as a byproduct, stressed himself out. He wasn’t about to wallow. He feared the pull of the undertow if he did that shit. And fear had been the start of it all. Not to mention the crime gig Erin had taken to. He knew she could handle herself but hell if he didn’t consider the what ifs from time to time. It was hard to wallow in it when, instead, he could order a double whiskey neat and sit back while some soccer game played. The cheers of the patrons rang loud in his sensitive ears. Shit, he was at the Perfect Pint. Football. It was a football game. He grunted and took a long drink. Grit his teeth as the whiskey nearly burned the skin of his mouth. He had asked for the cheap shit and he could taste it. The crowd quieted for a second and the sigh that came from the man next to him just about startled him. But he held fast. Held tight to his drink as he glanced over. The man looked about how he felt and by any indication, it wasn’t fucking great. Nicodemus wasn’t a man of small talk. Nicodemus after a few whiskey neats, on the other hand, sure was. “Yeah, looks that way,” he commented, before he winced and waved a hand. “Shit. Sorry. Not what I--But, uh, yeah. Been a fuckin’ year. That drink you’re havin’ for the day or the month?” He snorted and shook his head. “Whichever one’s been worse, I reckon?”

How he’d ended up in a bar of all places, Roland wasn’t sure. Here his superiors probably thought transferring him to a small town would leave him bored and stagnant. He had stark determination when he first arrived, but now everything seemed to be spiraling further and further from his grasp. Every answer he reached for seemed to float away just past his reach, just where he couldn’t see it clearly. All it led to was an ever growing stack of half solved cases on his desk. Nearly getting himself and Stryder killed had been the icing on the metaphorical cake. Finding out how wrong he’d been about Erin was a last straw of sorts.  At this point, he wasn’t even sure if his drink was for the day, month, or year. All had been weighing heavy on him. “Your guess is as good as mine. I’d have to say month,” he answered, perhaps more truthfully than he would have otherwise if there weren’t a fresh shot of bourbon in his system. “From the sounds of it, I’m not the only one getting my ass handed to me by this town. Care for a shot?” 

“Hear that,” Nicodemus muttered out with a small, slow nod. “Months got a way of feelin’ like years here, don’t it?” The way White Crest could make a man feel older yet younger all at the same time, no wonder the town carried itself the way it did. All just about half awake, heads just above water. As long as there was a game on and a full fridge at home, what’d they have to worry about? But hell, they stayed. He certainly had and he had stopped trying to question why. He knew why. The hunter went to take another dry sip but snorted, lowered the glass back down. “Nah, definitely ain’t just you. Ain’t that nice,” he said with a slight lift of a brow. The humor in his tone withered as he sat up straighter and heaved a sigh. “Yeah, sure, deal me in. I’ll get the next.” He leaned into the bartop, arms slightly folded together. Before he spoke up, he laughed as he looked at the other man. “What happened, if’n you don’t mind some asshole askin’?”

“You got that right,” Roland agreed and took a gulp of the beer the bartender had set down in front of him. The time flew by, but so much happened so quickly that it felt longer, somehow. At this point, he barely felt like he was keeping his head above water, but there was still too much on the line to give up entirely. All of it had little to do with his own work ethic or sense of worth anymore, people were in danger. Mores so every single day. He’d made that his weight to carry and while he needed the night off mentally, tomorrow he’d be back at it again, trying his best to make this town even a little bit safer. “At least we’re not alone in this boat… or bar, rather,” he responded with a small chuckle. He was tired, but it felt better to be talking with someone who seemingly understood. He rested his elbows on the bar with his beer mug still in his hand. He looked down at the beer momentarily before he answered, “You hardly seem like an asshole. But yeah, I guess I could do with talking about it a bit. You ever used to feel like you were really good at something-- then all of a sudden you start to realize you’re not?” That was one way of putting it. The ever growing number of unsolved cases on his desk said it all. “I moved here a while back from Boston. Transferred from Boston PD. I used to think I was a good detective and leader and now… I guess this town’s just giving me a run for my money.” 

In different bars in different towns, Nicodemus kept to the back corners. Kept to himself unless someone suddenly developed a problem or those in the know knew to ask something of him. He didn’t know how it happened or when it did, but in White Crest, he gravitated toward the bartop itself. Found himself in conversations with people he might even see the next day. He snorted. He had a strong feeling that he and the other guy wouldn’t be getting into any bar fights. A breath of relief followed after. “Sure ain’t,” he agreed, voice a tired whiskey drawl. He nodded. “You don’t seem like one either.” As the man continued, opened up, he sat up a little straighter. Weathered, he thought. That’s what they were. Weathered and continuing to weather. His eyes dropped from looking at the other man to the worn bartop. Being good at something. What did that even mean to him anymore? He had been good at what he did. Bounty hunting. Hell, he still was, but lately, he hesitated. The money said as much. And he couldn’t blame it on age. Wasn’t sure he could blame it on anything. It just was. No attribution necessary. The hunter tensed in his chair. Boston PD. A confessional with a cop, why the hell not. “Yeah...Yeah, I do,” he said after a beat. The shots slid across the bartop and he took his in hand. “I do the, uh, odd job here or there. People knew that I was reliable if they needed something done. But hell, lately...I don’t know anymore. I don’t know if I’m good for it anymore. That realization’s the worst part of it all, ain’t it?” He tossed the shot back. “Creeps in slow and fucks you right up. Town’s got a way of doin’ that too.” Erin had told him that once. That it wasn’t him, it was the town. Somehow, he got lost and understood the town more than he understood his own damn self. “Boston, huh? Ain’t too far from home then.”

Feeling a bit less alone in the world did help to an extent. The feeling of lead in his chest seemed to be dissipating at the very least. Roland wasn’t sure when or how things had gotten so out of control, but it was difficult for him to navigate. He thrived on order and found himself in a town ruled almost exclusively by chaos. Maybe one day all his efforts would pay off, but it was getting harder and harder to maintain the optimism he once possessed. He finally set his stein down and brought his shoulders back if only a little. Slouching indicated defeat and he wasn’t ready to reside himself to that yet. The people of this town were worth fighting for. He leaned back away from the bar top and looked to his new found friend. Understanding was a powerful thing. “You’re right. The realization hits like a ton of bricks. And then it’s a hell of a time trying to figure out when it even happened,” he responded a little more emphatically this time. He was feeling more comfortable with this… It dawned on him he didn’t know this man’s name. “Yeah, starts out so slowly, you don’t even know it’s happening. This town definitely has a way of it though. Let me tell you, gang violence has nothing on the strange crimes that happen in this town.” Mimes and eyeballs still haunted his nightmares. Now there were organs being sold and mutated animals. Nothing could just be simple. “Yep-- Born and raised. My dad was on the force there, too. I miss it sometimes, but this town has turned out to be a challenge at least.” One he wasn’t so sure he was up to facing anymore, but giving up was never an option. “What about you? You don’t sound like you’re from around here.” 

Nicodemus was so used to dealing with the children of White Crest finding new and inventive ways to achieve martyrdom that he damn near forgot what it was like to talk to someone a little more than reasonable. Even as the topic grew heavier, his shoulders didn’t. He didn’t feel as rusted over, as withered. Maybe it was the booze or maybe it was the strange ease of the conversation. Either way, he took well enough to it. Breathed a little easier. “Feels like half the time you’re just tryin’ to keep up with it all and shit, you’re still gettin’ lost somehow,” he said with a slightly furrowed brow. “It’s weird, y’know? I feel lost as shit in this town most of the time but the, uh, people sorta help with that.” Plenty of people had helped him and oddly enough, he thought as he glanced over, their numbers kept growing. Nothing like bar hospitality and the kindred nature of the weary. Strange crimes. The hunter had to wonder how much this man knew about White Crest’s strangeness. Had he seen one of those native wolves? Maybe the bloody aftermath of some vampire’s creation? Nicodemus frowned some as he moved the small shot glass between his hands. “Shit,” he said with lifted brows as he looked at him. “Take it you’ve been seein’ weird stuff ‘round these parts?” He gestured to the bartender to bring them a couple more drinks. This time on him. “So it’s a family kinda business for you? I know that one. You do the same stuff he did?” Air rushed out his nose. “Sure as hell can be a challenge. Don’t really know how we all keep survivin’ here but we do.” The more he drank, the heavier his drawl came. The more the bayou came through. A wry smile made an appearance. “Louisiana. Y’all got a couple seasons we don’t up here,” he said with a raspy laugh. “Do a lot of travelin’ but-- Hell, I think this is the longest I’ve stayed in one spot in about ten years.” As their drinks came by, he shifted some. “I’m, uh, Nicodemus. By the way. Nic works.”

In times like this, Roland always did his best to remember his father. There were so many ways in his mind that the man had always been larger than life. Even when the world around him seemed to be moving far too fast or in ways no one could have possibly understood, Jim Hills stood tall. It was the same energy he tried to emulate now. Letting some of it out helped keep his chin up. Did he live up to the man who raised him? These days he couldn’t be sure, but it was hard to be too torn up about it as the effects of the alcohol slowly kicked in. “That’s exactly it. Most days it feels hard enough just to tell up from down,” he agreed, “There are some good people here, though. Guess that’s what makes most things worth it at the end of the day.” There were also people who were only seemingly good. Erin and whoever in his department had disposed of her evidence were proof of that. Still, there were kind souls out there like the one sitting next to him, letting him get some worries off his chest. Even the crimes he had no explanation for. Maybe if he spoke his piece out loud, he’d have some sort of epiphany that brought this all together. “I think you’re on the nose with the weird shit part. Mimes, eyeballs, cults, diseased animals, you name it-- this town seems to have it.” Surely, there were probably run of the mill drug rings, too. The unbelievably high homicide rate just took precedence. “Oh yeah, Pops was a cop, too. Boston PD Captain before he passed. Always looked up to him though,” he answered. He nodded along with his note on survival. It seemed all he could do some days was just survive. “You got that right. Louisiana, now that’s a cool state. Only ever been to New Orleans there. Ex-Wife was very into the history of the town. I enjoyed the food.” He paused and took a sip from his fresh beer before asking, “What brought you to White Crest?” Now his mystery bar friend had a name. “Nic, it’s good to meet you. I’m Roland.” 

It would take a great deal more for the hunter to start seeing double. Even so, Nicodemus slowed down. Took his time between sips as he just listened. It was funny, how he had honed that skill by listening to the details of bounties to get them just right. He almost laughed. Maybe Morgan had been right, Erin too. That he could do something else with it. Yet, the mornings and evenings went on the same. How could he end when he didn’t even know where to start? He hummed low to himself. “There are, yeah,” he admitted. He had to wonder if this man had that same crusted over optimism that he did. “Made more friends here than I have anywhere else. Maybe it’s that death rate, y’know? Got people eager to make friendly.” He shook his head, a slight smile of disbelief as he turned his drink in hand. A bit of dark humor to shadow over how fucking worried he was about everyone. “Shit, half the time it seems like they’re all in on it together. Group effort. Just...mimes?” He looked at Roland with his glass in hand, his face sour. “They ain’t right.” From time to time, he thought of how he had twisted the head off his own mime and then wondered why sometimes he didn’t sleep. The hunter went quiet for a moment. Father figures weren’t a familiar notion to him. He didn’t know his father. Only that he had his face and for that, he was troubled from the start. He was too busy having his grandfather look down at him to consider looking skyward. When the hell fires came for Samson, maybe Nicodemus could look down at him for once. The burn of his whiskey shook him out of it. “Sounds like he was a good man,” he finally said with a nod. “Could do with more of those.” What constituted a good man? He didn’t know. Didn’t think he had much to say on it. “New Orleans, Baton Rouge. Those are the real nice places, can’t go wrong with ‘em. But you wanna see the weird shit? Gotta get out to the middlin’ or upper parishes. Ain’t too different from here sometimes.” Hell, that was how he had spent most of his growing years. Dealing with the weird shit. “But, uh, work, mostly. Depends what people need. Handyman or pest control type stuff. Left home and just sorta kept moving. Make myself useful.” It sounded good enough in his head. “Likewise, likewise.” He held his glass over. “Well, Roland, to weird shit and alright people, huh?”

There was something to be said about trauma bringing people together. Roland agreed the death rate likely helped bring them all together. He knew even within the station, he felt more of a sense of comradery than he had back in Boston. Given, the competitive atmosphere in Boston’s department likely didn’t help, but here in White Crest, they’d all been through a lot. They’d all seen some shit. “Yeah, that must be it. Gotta be in this together to survive a place like this,” he pondered aloud. He slowed down with his drink. It wasn’t often that he indulged in drinking and it hit him more quickly than it would hit most other men his size because of this. While he had every intention of grabbing an Uber home, he didn’t love the idea of making a fool of himself in public. The mention of mimes working with the other crazy things in this town made his brow scrunch up. “God, I hope not,” he grumbled, “The mimes are bad enough on their own. I don’t want to see what happens if they team up with overly aggressive animals and cults… though maybe the mimes are a cult.” He really hated that thought though they did seem to have a cult following in this town. At least they weren’t stabbing people anymore as far as he could tell. All he knew was he could go the rest of his life without seeing or hearing about a mime and he’d be damn glad. “He was,” Roland agreed when Nic mentioned his father sounded like a good man. There wasn’t much more to say about that unless he wanted to go down memory lane and make himself sad. Seemed like he’d done enough of that tonight. Mentions of parts of New Orleans being like White Crest caused him to shake his head. “If I’m going on vacation, the last thing I’m looking for is more weird shit, but hey, guess it builds character.” He nodded along with the odd jobs, “Well, I’ll definitely keep you in mind if anything comes up.” He raised his stein and clinked it to Nic’s glass. “Cheers to weird shit and good people.” Maybe this wasn’t his normal scene, but after a good chat with Nic, he understood why people enjoyed it. He felt a lot less alone in this crazy world having found a kindred spirit. 

[augmented-beauty]

Deus Ex OC profile 2.0

I found myself being extremely creative lately, and here we are. Here follows a long, more detailed profile of my dear baby, Alexandra. And yet, it still scratches the surface of her story, as I don’t want to spoil too much. 

Art by the amazing @mrs-chief​ yes, I’m still spamming it because I’m just too in love with this piece, no matter how many months have passed already.

Full name: Alexandra Maribel Montgomery Rivera

Date and place of birth: July 14, 1999, Detroit

Augmentations: eyes (Smart vision with Fine Transmitter Tuning, flash suppressant, retinal HUD), right arm (instant take-down, recoil compensation (full level), optimized musculature, punch through Wall, aim stabilizer, nanoblade, Tesla system, custom-made emergency button to rapidly release her ammo), Info Link.

Moral Alignment: Neutral good. Extremely loyal, Alexandra respects the authorities and she does not consider herself above law, but she believes that protocols and orders sometimes have to be ignored to do what is right. She usually doesn’t kill her enemies or opponents, but she won’t hesitate to pull the trigger to protect loved ones and when there’s no other way out.  

Alex is extremely loyal and devoted to her loved ones. Empathetic, extrovert, joyful, supportive, respectful and kind, it’s extremely easy to get on at least decently with her, but it’s still quite difficult to gain her trust. Open-minded and strong principled. Realistic, but she always tries to see the brighter side. She never gets too influenced by others, but she has some role models and people that admires deeply. Sometimes anger takes advantage of her, and she can be aggressive at times. Usually, her disappointment is expressed by sassy remarks.

Hobbies: singing and songwriting, videomaking, dancing

Family and life events

Her mother is Cuban, born in Havana, and moved to the USA to study and work. Her father, Koa, is a half Samoan-American (hapa) SWAT agent, born and raised in Detroit, but always visits Hawaii regularly. Her Hawaiian grandfather, Keoni, moved in Detroit in search of more job opportunities, while her grandmother is a white woman born in Detroit, disowned because of her will to marry a black man. They later moved back to Hawaii after retirement. Alex also has a younger sister, Isabelle Ignacia, former member of a Sarif’s research team. She has an excellent relationship with her family. Her parents, grandparents and sister are extremely supportive.

The two sisters suffer from Retinitis Pigmentosa (RP), a genetic, degenerative disease that slowly drags the patient into blindness. Luckily, both of them were able to access the needed augmentations as this technology started to become more common. Alexandra was the first one to get her augs back in 2018, agreeing to take part in a Sarif Industries initiative. Isabelle gets her own after a couple of years. Both their surgeries are successful, and the two sisters don’t really need to worry about their syndrome anymore. While Isabelle sticks to regular updates meant for a civilian as technology improves, Alex is more daring. In 2027, after debating about it for a while, thanks to her job, she gets some military upgrades.

Following her father’s footsteps, Alex applied for Police Academy after getting her Bachelor degree. That’s when she meets Adam, just days after her training at the Academy starts. Their meeting was almost a lucky coincidence: Alex was meant to have lunch with her father, but Adam was free, too. Koa thought it was the perfect occasion to have the two of them finally getting to know each other. He always had a good consideration of Adam, and Alex has heard of him before, multiple times. On the other hand, Adam has heard a lot about Alexandra, as Koa was always very proud of his daughter and all her achievements.

As her career progresses, Alexandra ends up in a relationship with Michael, who she has been knowing since college. The two of them both enrolled with DPD after their degree and ended up in Academy together as well. After graduating from Academy and after two abundant years of active service, Alexandra takes a step further and gets her training to join the SWAT division, with the support of her father and Adam, who both give her some help and tips when needed. Her career at DPD is brilliant, even though she never got the chance to become a commander herself.

Meanwhile, her sister studies hard and manages to get her dream job at Sarif Industries, and is assigned to Megan Reed’s team. There, Isabelle meets Faridah Malik and Francis Pritchard and introduces them to Alex. They both become some of the closest friends of the two sisters. For Alex and Isabelle, they’re more like siblings in bond.

Her life is relatively calm and peaceful until 2027 comes. The attack at Sarif Industries has her all over the place. Luckily, Isabelle wasn’t working that day, but what happened to Adam hits her and raises her stress levels. For months, Alex keeps worrying about her younger sister’s safety, and for Adam’s mental and physical health. Michael helps her a lot during this time, supporting her in every selfless action of hers. He’s not as close with Adam as Alex is, but still tries to support him, too. Some weight seems to be lifted from her shoulders when Adam is back in the saddle again, but six months after the first attack at SI, the same people responsible for what happened that day try to kidnap Isabelle, too. But once again, they fail, also thanks to Adam’s investigations and his right-on-time rescue. Some days after that, the Incident takes place. She’s off-duty and with Michael when the chaos starts to surround them. Alex didn’t get the new chip and is still sane. Even though they’re both off-duty, they end up inside a residential building, partially on fire, trying their best to aid some people stuck inside. A heavy augmented man, with heavy labour augs, is the current threat. Alexandra comes up with quite the reckless plan, acting as a living bait to give the chance to Michael to get those people safe. In that instant, there was no better option than that, it was only a matter of time. Things don’t really go as expected though. Alex gets badly stunned, and the man grabs her to throw her smaller body into the nearby flames. Michael barely makes it on time to save her, shooting the man, but there’s nothing he can do about her right arm, all he can do is extinguishing the fire. The pain is too much, and Alexandra is unconscious. Next thing she knows as she opens her eyes again, is that she’s in a hospital bed, with no right arm, and without Michael around. While doing everything to save her, he was badly injured and didn’t make it to the hospital, no matter how fast her father got there to pick them up. Her family also needs to let her know what happened in Panchaea, and that Adam is most probably dead.

The aftermath is pure hell. She went through one of the darkest times of her life. Lots of people that she called friends turned their backs to her only because of her second aug, guilt for Michael’s death ate her alive, and the whole process of rehab and the pain after the amputation were destroying her. Knowing that Adam was gone, too, made everything even worse. If it wasn’t for her family and closest friends, her mental health would have been extremely compromised.

The following months are all about recovery, and the support of her loved ones is crucial. Slowly, she gets back on track, regaining her inner fire, and coming back stronger than before. Her original songs and covers become a way for her to channel her emotions and to blow some steam off, even more than in the past, to give a message and raise awareness about what it really means to be augmented, and to, hopefully, bring some hope to augmented people like her. With time, an idea pestering the whole family becomes reality, and Montgomery Foundation is born. Based in Detroit, it’s meant to bring assistance to augmented people in desperate conditions, to raise awareness and to educate about what it means to be augmented, trying to stop the hatred. Alex and Isabelle put a lot of care into using the various social media channels to do this. Isabelle spreads awareness using her biomedical knowledge, while Alexandra insists more on the social, emotional side of the issue. This project also gives her the motivation and the inspiration to make some new content. This is not about music only anymore, Alex takes the chance to bring entertainment, too, as many have suggested her throughout the years. Her personality is perfect for this, and it could be a way to give more visibility to the Foundation and the activism that the whole family is carrying on.

Despite this new reality, Detroit is becoming unbearable. Once she can get back to work, things are not the same anymore. Alex can’t really see the point in being a cop anymore, not with all the violence and hatred that police brings upon augmented people. Most of her colleagues don’t fully trust her anymore, look at her like she was a walking death machine. Some don’t even try to hide their true feelings. The situation becomes more and more frustrating every day. But there’s a spark of hope in late 2028, one year after the incident: out of the blue, Adam is back in Detroit. It’s the key event that brings all her strength back, fully, after a year of struggles. Determined in helping him out, she has her first contact with Interpol’s Task Force 29. Jarreau agrees to have her taking part in their operation in Detroit as some sort of local aid agent, and is very impressed by her work. Before leaving, he suggests Alex to consider applying for Task Force 29, letting her know he wouldn’t mind to have her in Los Angeles.

As much as Detroit is testing her patience, Alexandra doesn’t leave immediately. She’s too concerned about the safety of her family, especially of her sister, and about the condition of the augmented people living in the former Sarif Industries area. Yet, Jarreau’s offer is tempting. It takes a while for her to even just start really considering such an option. Friends and family try to convince her for months, they know how this new job could benefit her. Adam, too, does his best to persuade her, giving her information, answering her questions about TF29; there’s no time zone that can stop him. It takes almost a year for Alex to finally decide to embrace this opportunity. DPD won’t let her go easily, though, no matter if they can only waste her potential, and her superiors manage to let her be a simple agent on trial. To officially become an Interpol agent, she will need to impress her superiors. The inconvenience doesn’t stop Alex, and she still sends her application to Interpol, to those terms. Instead of requesting to be part of the LA team, she applies for Prague’s team.

Alexandra’s intention is to move to Prague, to be by Adam’s side. In fact, after meeting him again almost a year before, she started to realise how her feelings for him went beyond friendship. Said epiphany only made her miss Adam more and more, making her want to run after a whole brand new start. She reaches Prague the day after Ruzicka’s bombing and is immediately thrown into action. Teamed up with Adam, she works on the bombing case and later takes part in London’s operation. Right after Apex Centre’s evens, Miller immediately gets to work to have Alexandra among his agents, and eventually, his efforts are successful. Things seem to be brighter for Alex from now on. She gets to spend more time with Adam, just like old times, and they get closer and closer, as close as never before. Their relationship gets deeper and deeper day by day and after a relatively short time, they end up together, from friends to lovers.

[harringtonheartache]

Call It Fate, Call It Karma | Part One

Part Two

Pairing: Steve Harrington x Reader

Summary: Y/n is one of the Scoops Troop who finds herself in the underground Russian base, and ultimately ends up strapped to the back of Steve Harrington whilst facing imminent death. (Essentially Steve & Robin’s interrogation but the reader is in Robin’s place). 

Warning(s): Stranger Things 3 spoilers, descriptions of blood and violence, cussing

Word Count: 1,951

A/N: I am 100% in fucking love with Steve Harrington. The title is taken from a song by the same name by The Strokes, it’s cute, maybe give it a listen. Request more ST fics if ya want, Steve prompts in particular are appreciated :-). I love my chaos boyfriend. This is a part one! If you bitches want a second part tell me, although I will probably do it anyway because I feel weird leaving this story without a true conclusion. Okay enjoy. 

The next punch to her face hit the air with the sound of a popping balloon. Her hand gripped the underside of the cold metal bench, the cool surface stimulating a sense of relief against her warm palms. This was not the first blow she has received in the past hour, as her expression was painted with reds and blues to match the Fourth of July festivities going on elsewhere. She closed her eyes, tired of fighting a battle with the fluorescent lights that seemed to hang from the ceiling just to cause her discomfort. This was taken as an act of insubordination to the Russian man who crouched before her. He took her whole face in one of his large hands, insistent on holding her full attention. His finger pushed aggravatingly on her swollen eye, an action that heightened the pain in her face. He spoke to her in English, but not even the removal of the language barrier would allow her drained mind to understand what was said to her so sternly. 

Apparently whatever was spoken acted as a preface to a change of location. As her body began being dragged out of the small room, she felt a strange alleviation of fear. While she made sure to remember that they could very well be taking her into a kill room to rid themselves of her as a liability, she took comfort in knowing that one phase of her torture interrogation was over. Her legs followed her upper body limply, her front side facing the ceiling as a large man pulled her like a wagon by the arm. She pulled once against his grip, as if this feeble attempt would grant her an upper hand in anyway. As if it was nothing to him (because it wasn’t), he slung her across the floor in front of him. She slid a good amount, smashing into Steve like two children at the bottom of a sledding hill. 

Their bodies laid there for a second, like two corpses awaiting disposal. Exhausted and half-conscious, Y/n used her knees to turn herself around to face Steve. “St- Steve? Hey, can you hear me?” He was with matching bodily damage, although it was safe to say that he had it a little worse than her during the interrogation phase. Her fingers met his shirt for a second, and she got one tug in before she herself was pulled from the floor and sat in a chair. Her shouts of disapproval were ignored as if they went unheard. Steve was removed from the ground as well, and placed in a chair that met the back of Y/n’s. Being the only one of the two imprisoned who remained conscious, she yelled profusely in displeasure. Much to her dismay, the men funneled out of the room like penguins, leaving them alone for the first time since their abduction. 

“Steve, wake up. Steve please fucking wake up, please. For fucks sake! Steve wake up.” Her voice was strained and weak, matching her worn appearance. She had endured her share of beatings without any urge to cry, but it was in this moment she felt that straining in the back of her throat that was usually followed by tears. “Steve fucking wake up,” the volume of her own voice added slightly to her increasing panic. She stirred indignantly in her chair, hoping that her movement -in addition to her rasping voice- would be enough to steal Steve from his unconscious state. After a few minutes of this, she was rewarded with a sound from him. “Hmm? Y/n?” 

“Steve! Oh fuck, thank you. Steve? Wake up. Are you awake?”

 “Uhhhh uh huh,” he dragged out the “h’s” of his speech, still struggling significantly with being awake. She let out a relieved laugh, but still worried for his physical state. “Are you okay?” She asked. “My ears are ringing, and I can’t really breathe. My eye feels like it’s about to pop out of my skull, but you know, apart from that I’m doing pretty good.” Although laced with sarcasm, the exchange of full sentence-length speech was reassuring. 

She closed her eyes again, this time able to do so without being met with an angry hand to her face. An almost content sigh left her bruised body. “What about you?” He asked. “I’m, uh.. bleeding. But okay,” she told him. Now that he was awake, her mind calmed, and she gave herself a moment to take in the room and weigh their options. There were a few drops of blood notable against the pale tile, a detail that some might overlook. Despite the contrast of the deep red and polished blue, the blood did not look abnormal splashed against the floor. The nature of the room invited spilled blood as a decoration. She leaned her head backwards to rest on Steve’s shoulder, physical contact that was comforting to the both of them. In a moment of dumb concern, she worried about bloodying his work uniform with her face. This maybe a thoughtful fear, had the interrogators been just as considerate in preserving his clothing during his own beating. 

She lifted her head after a minute or so, recognizing that she’d better use her time wisely. While the situation was very much real, she could not picture herself meeting her end in the minute room she sat in, strapped to the back of Steve Harrington. Looking to her left, she counted six metal tools spread out on a tray, like something you would see at the dentist’s office. The first of those six items was a pair of shining scissors. An excited huff of air left her nose as a smile spread across her mouth. “Hey, look to your right. There's a pair of scissors. If we hop together, maybe we can reach them.” It seemed like a solid plan, and Steve was enthused to follow her direction. “Oh shit, yeah let’s try that.”

Two hops in and perhaps feeling a little too confident, a third jump knocked them from their triumphant state and landed them on that pale blue floor. Despite their situation, the cool tile felt nice on their burning faces once they were down there. A drop of blood that had been making it’s way down Steve’s neck had it’s path redirected, and now moved horizontally, painting him a necklace of red. When it reached the floor, it added another splash to the already bloodied tile, looking just as natural as the others had. 

Given the circumstance, cuss words were the only vocabulary Y/n felt were appropriate to spill. “Fuck, fuck, fuck.” A fitting trilogy of words. She started off her next sentence with another word from her list of obscenities. “Shit, we’re really dead, huh?”

 “No, no, no, we’re not dying here. We will not die in an underground Russian base that we didn’t know existed twenty-four hours ago,” he told her in a manner that he hoped would convince both of them that it was the truth. Y/n longed to blindly believe him; to be able to take his word for it that they would survive the rabbit hole their curiosity damned them down would be paradisaical. How polite of childish wonder to dig a grave for you (and a friend!). 

“I admire your optimism,” she spoke to him slowly. She felt defeated in every sense of the word. A brief silence fell over the two, but didn’t last as Steve spoke again. “I am optimistic that we will get out of here, but while it still looks like we are facing inevitable doom, can I say something?” He wished that he could read her face, but he remained incapable of doing so whilst strapped to the fallen chair. His hands laid in tight correspondence with one another, although the wraps that held them together with his legs were a sub-concern in comparison to the hurt he felt in his face. His hair had dried significantly since it had stuck to the back of his neck with sweat in the room that he was beaten. It had still managed to frame his face without flaw, although a tad messier than before; it worked for him. Not even a severe assault hindered his hairstyle. He laid stiffly on the floor, still forced into sitting posture from the chair he was tied to. With his head against the floor, his side profile emulated an artistically tragic painting, one that used watercolors to detail the bruises and blood.

Y/n, with her back to him, felt the slight shift in conversational atmosphere with her entire body. “Sure,” she didn’t leave him in much anticipation. An aimless memory had risen to the top of Steve’s consciousness, like bubbles appearing at the surface of a boiling water pot. “Do you remember when you helped me pass senior year English?” Truly a bizarre event to summon to mind when faced with death. Nonetheless, she did remember this. She remembered in great detail. While many found their newly developed friendship a curious occurrence, their personal progression from demodog mercenaries to honest friends was a comfort to both participants. “Yeah,” she reassured him, prompting him to continue. “I would come home actually excited to study, because with you it was fun. I mean, we became friends because all of the end-of-world demodog bullshit, but it was nice to do something normal with you. And you know we’ve hung out a lot since then, and now we are back to our more life-threatening pastimes, but I guess I just wanted to tell you how much fun I had while it lasted,” he said, his voice honeyed. “I know I am totally throwing a wrench in my optimism facade but I had to say it because to be honest, I am not completely sure Dustin isn’t utterly lost in the vents right now,” Steve finished, returning to a more light-hearted way of talking.  

This monologue flared a laugh from Y/n, and one that actually wasn’t tinctured with delusion. “Thanks, Steve. Me too. I agree, it was fun while it lasted. It is weird that it took the end of the world to bring us together.” Another chuckle left her and spread to Steve as well. “Is that pitiful or just fate?” she posed a question. “I’m just going to call it fate,” he said, his voice airy and amused. Perhaps it was fate, or perhaps karma was instead more suiting a word. If they were in all actuality saving the world, maybe becoming close with one another was their compensation. To draw a line between inevitable outcome and simple cause and effect seemed unnecessary, though. “If it is at all a comfort, I have a little more faith in Dustin’s navigation skills than you,” she added, her tone conciliatory. 

Their wild cachinnation grew, but was cut short when the Russian men returned to the room. The two were pulled from the ground just as harshly as they had been thrown down. It was then that a syringe was presented to the two of them. The needle sticking out of the top end took the hostages right back down to reality; pulled them from their previous conversation that had acted as a rather effective distraction. It was that needle that put a new, sick thought in Y/n’s head: was it good karma they had acquired, or bad? Maybe they saved Hawkins, or maybe they messed with an entity they were to leave alone. Perhaps their relationship was a reward, or perhaps it was a punishment, for it would end cruelty in torment and death in this small doctor’s office of a room.

[akiwisfics]

In Bloom Chapter 2

Notes: Cross-posted from AO3. If people get annoyed by this, please savior “kiwi crossposts” to save your eyes. Hey, if you’re a fan of KirarixSayaka, check our discord here .

Description: Mary accepts an invitation to watch from the president, and learns far more than she ever wanted.

Pairings: KirarixSayaka, MaryxRirika

---

The mask was never really hers to begin with, she thought. Ririka had looked on it with such ugliness as a child, bitter but needy-- like a starving man forced to drink salt water at sea. The more the ocean pulled and pushed her raft, the more desperate she grew to its poison. She had no other sanctuary, no other out. Perhaps it would’ve been better to die of thirst than to die of madness.

But it was there, a second skin and more familiar a face than her own. It looked far too large on her tiny frame as a child. The holes didn’t quite fit her eyes and there were inches that it went past her chin, almost covering her neck.

She always wondered where Kirari got it, but she had been far too afraid to ask. Disguised as an offer of freedom. Now a different form of shackle.

Ririka assumed it was better than being devoured by her own twin.

--

The separation hadn’t been official technically until that day. They sat, tea set perfectly placed with a precision she had always expected from Igarashi-san. She studied her more than she would care to admit. She moved back and forth across the council room so much more like her own stage, orchestrating a performance meant only for an audience of one-- but two. Her constant presence had become familiar in the couple of years that they’d been in power, and rarely had it meant anything beyond the admiration of her dedication.

She didn’t know when it changed, but Ririka knew exactly when she noticed it. Her tea had been left untouched, all too aware of the humor in her twin’s eyes as she studied Ririka, naked without the comfort of ceramic. She was never much for green tea anyway. It felt too much like soil in her mouth-- all too thick and all too bitter.

“She’s quite remarkable, isn’t she?” Kirari had asked, always digging for more than she should.

Mary was different. All too trusting, yet carved her own path. It wasn’t righteous fury. It wasn’t anything more than a desire to have her own choices. It was a conviction she both admired and envied. She could never hope to emulate the fire in her brown eyes, the way her blonde hair shimmered in the open sun. The way her smirk widened and head raised high in certain victory. It was easier to fake someone she knew so well.

Kirari was more predictable than she’d want to admit. The gaze was waiting for something she could gain from Ririka’s words, whether that would be a new perspective, a secret, or something that would blossom into a strategy later. Her mind was simple, focused. One that just simply craved chaos behind its wake. “Runa told me everything when she came back,” she continued, undeterred by Ririka’s stillness. “It’s true Miyo and Miri underestimated her, but they haven’t met anyone outside of our family that would handle poison so nonchalantly. She kept a good face.”

“Why do you like her so much?”

She took some small pleasure in the way Kirari was taken aback by the question at first, pausing mid-sip of her tea and setting it down with a small clink. It soon gave way to a chuckle however, making whatever show a small victory for her. “Why don’t you tell me?”

A trick question, maybe? There was a reason her sister wanted them together, collaboration-- independent from her. The first thought was an evaluation. Once they won the election again, the council would need to be reorganized. It was true Mary would be a prime candidate for one of the seats, but… “She already said no before. Not under you.”

She tsked at the response, disappointed. “Who’s to say? I hope for a challenge at least.”

“That’s all?”

That smile-- it showed life in her eyes, almost natural. She missed those glimpses. “Better.”

“President, if I may?” And suddenly Igarashi-san existed. She had a good habit of that-- something Ririka could almost say came from her. She would let herself exist in the periphery, letting events take its course until she was needed, or had something to say. Not all of it was useful to her, given all things considered, but the emotional consideration in it was at least respectable.

But in that moment. In the day in which Ririka would see Kirari almost alone, she saw the smile of a person as she outstretched her hand and offered the seat beside her. Igarashi’s smile was shakier, fragile-- but there wasn’t any redness or hesitation as she gently sat herself down. Not much space either.

Something had changed. Something she hadn’t noticed before.

Igarashi-san took a deep breath, organizing her thoughts before speaking. “I’m aware it’s unlikely Inbami and Yobami-san would go against Terano’s orders at this point, but…” Ririka had known the suggestion before being given. Igarashi-san, the natural logical mind that she had. The dedicated, servitude attitude. “... I think I’m more suited to open your mail from now on.”

“Oh?” Kirari humored it as she reached across the table and took Ririka’s untouched, cool tea to offer it to Igarashi-san. Ririka hadn’t bothered to look perturbed for the sake of it. The tea was likely to go to waste at this point. “Why would I do that?” She expected the obvious answer. Answers that she had heard from Igarashi-san before. They were the same reasons that got her the taser hidden away at her hip, intimate knowledge of Kirari’s daily routine and schedule (and perhaps a bit of her own). A bit of safety, a bit of peace of mind for her own secretary and for the school. It wouldn’t do well to see the president poisoned during a crucial moment of the election.

Igarashi-san held her gaze with confidence. “It’s not worth entertaining the small games at this point, and..” she eyed the cold tea a bit warily before declining the cup herself. “I would hate for you to lose out on what you enjoy because the sisters wanted to set an unknown time limit.”

That wasn’t exactly what she had in mind.

Kirari looked to Ririka, almost taunting-- waiting for a reaction of some sort. It was out of many years of experience that she remained as placid as she could. “At least go over the invitations before rejecting them?”

“Of course!”

--

Mary still avoided her.

She didn’t think she was skipping classes, but there wasn’t any sight of blonde hair as the classes let out each day. It only made the stone weight of guilt sink deeper inside of her. She wished she could fix it.

But to be Kirari? It was all second nature to her.

--

It had only been a week before Ririka sought her twin once again. The president’s absence, at so pivotal time in the election, had been keenly felt. She paid little attention to the rumors that circulated around the president ordinarily, but this time-- this time the rumors were loud. The well of votes was running dry, and what little dreams that pets had of clawing out of their status were quickly dashed as the placements became more and more concrete.

And yet-- the votes weren’t with Terano. They weren’t with Ririka, or indeed, even the president. Without tally from the election committee, it was hard to know where exactly those votes had gone to.

Her first thought was Mary, accruing what she needed in case her and Ririka’s falling out was permanent. It was impossible to know for certain, but the fact that she had yet to run into her gambling partner inside school grounds made that very unlikely. Not when she was so purposefully looking for her. The girl either didn’t actually care to win the election, or expected to reconcile at some point. A comforting thought, but one Ririka kept with cautious optimism.

The next suspect would be Yumeko. The girl had a magnetic attraction that drew the oddest and weakest to her, allured by the idea of freedom and her previous escapades in tearing the council asunder. Even now there had been tales of her using matches as a way of letting pets earn their freedom once again. That precisely was why she was an unlikely target though. Her votes and ranking fluctuated as much as her moods did. It would not be so noticeable a difference, nor would that feeling remain so long at once.

No. This adversary was new, and for right now, unknown.  The prevailing rumor was Kirari, or perhaps Igarashi-san, was gaining the votes by proxy-- planting players on her behalf while she dealt with some unknown business. Once she returned, she would then grab the votes via staged games.

But the longer the absence went, the longer people saw the truth that the rest of the top ten already knew. This wasn’t some grand play on her part, unveiling herself as the victor in some grand gesture. The president was missing. Her second in command was missing with no one left to defend it. It wasn’t hard for students to assume that this was Kirari’s resignation.

As to why the secretary was gone as well? Those rumors were at least somewhat darkly humorous. Some suggestions that she had become a recluse, that the quarantine the other day was a scene of some hideous suicide or murder by her finally snapping from the constant orders. More boring ones were that she had been disowned by her family or that her family had become destitute. Not one dared to try to connect the two disappearances, lest they risk the wrath of the president upon her return.

However, there was never anyone that Kirari didn’t know, especially one making waves like this. A clue or two could prove advantageous. There were also more pressing questions, ones that had been weighing heavily every time she came home to an empty mansion.

Her steps were quiet as she made her way up the stairs to a private, closed off section of the hospital. No doubt a personal expense on Kirari’s part. Gone was the chatter of overworked nurses and the moans and pratter of other patients. What staff that stayed at the station kept their lips sealed and eyes downward as Ririka passed them. She didn’t pay it a second thought, already used to being ignored by most anyone whenever she was away from her sister. It wouldn’t be hard to find the room. The one the nurses ignored the most, and the scent of burnt tea leaves were the main indicators.

However, she hadn’t expected to see Terano wheel out of the very room, pushed by a somewhat somber Yumi-- a rare sight to behold and mull over later. They met eyes, almost reluctantly by them both. Even Ririka found the air stale in that moment.

“I suppose even you would be curious,” Terano stated plainly.

Her fingers twitched, subconsciously looking for a mask she had forgotten. It didn’t feel right. “How is Igarashi-san?” she deflected, eyes flickering to the door behind Terano.

“Asleep, but healthy. I doubt she’ll need to stay much longer.”

“Good.”

She had eyes like Kirari’s. Sharp and never straying from their target. It dug and dug until there was nothing left. It took everything not to look away. “It seems I have to come up with a different method. Even with Igarashi gone, no one seems interested in selling votes anymore.”

The timing was odd, wasn’t it? She had thought the poisoning was a last ditch effort by the sisters to gain power over the branches, but Terano had something to gain. Whether the target had been Igarashi-san or Kirari, whether it would succeed or fail-- it would lock her biggest competitor out.  Though Terano’s methods tended to have more finesse than this, Ririka wouldn’t put it past the girl to take advantage of Miyo and Miri’s recklessness. Momobamis were opportunistic in nature, with few glaring exceptions.

“Did she say anything?” Ririka asked, softer this time as not to alert anyone inside the room.

Terano sighed, “What do you think?”

Ririka wasn’t sure anymore. The answer was usually no. Usually something obtuse, a tease perhaps. Kirari rarely spoke what she meant in plain, direct gestures. It was really the biggest difference between the two. Terano’s mind was just as sharp, perhaps even more clever than her twin-- but she spared very little time for eloquence. Especially not with those that irritated her.

Her sister could’ve said something. Terano may know who it is already. If that were the case, she doubt the information would be passed along easily. She kept an air of nonchalance as she slipped past her rival to the hospital door.

“Ririka?”

Her hand paused, fingers brushing against the handle.

“I don’t know what her game plan is. But if you really are looking to stop her, meet with me later. Bring Saotome-san.”

Mary would have to talk to her again first. She was still working on that. Even then, she didn’t think she could trust that idea. It seemed too much like an invitation to open old wounds. Create new ones behind them. It was hard enough to be independent for the first time in years-- she didn’t want to spend that time forming questionable alliances. Kirari’s orders or not, she at least trusted Mary. She couldn’t say the same of Terano.

She didn’t respond, electing to instead open the door finally and peer inside the hospital room. Terano’s dark eyes bore into her back well after the door had been clicked shut behind her. The clan was familiar with dangerous games. All of them. It wouldn’t do well to dwell on offers like that. She could only figure Terano was trying to consolidate votes now that buying them was no longer an option. Introducing a new player wasn’t a bad solution to that-- one strong enough to garner so many votes so quickly.

But that was a better question for the occupants in the room. The desk was an… interesting new addition. Pure dark mahogany, one she recognized from their own personal collection at home. She had come by at some point then. Almost every inch of it’s top had been covered in various papers and junk. Empty tea cases, voting chips, life plans, and various correspondence from contacts all made an appearance somewhere on its surface. Kirari bothered with none of it, instead hunched over a laptop with brow furrowed and deep, frustrated scowl on her features.

Ririka tried not to smile at the sight. The position of secretary had been a priority position to fill when they had started for this very reason. Kirari had a long, passionate hatred for paperwork. It was nice to see that the fact still stood. Hopefully she was kind enough to not disturb the privacy curtain behind her over a signature or two.

“You can stare or you can sit down,” Kirari quipped, never moving her eyes away from the screen. The blue eyes that scanned words on white page looked strange with the screen reflecting back in the irises that mirrored her own. No trace of make-up, perhaps left forgotten in her deserted bedroom. The cleanliness was as much a ghost to her as the absence.

Ririka bowed her head sheepishly as she sank into the wooden chair across from her, noting the slight quirk of Kirari’s lips as the chair scraped across tile.

“And quiet. I just convinced her to sleep.”

“How was the visit with Terano?”

She stopped a moment, shutting the laptop lid with a click. Ririka knew she would receive little more consolation. “She isn’t a fan of burnt tea.”

“And?”

“It’s interesting. How can you be afraid of your own questions?”

“I thought you liked dancing around subjects.”

“This? This is procrastination.”

Ririka noted the hard lines of Kirari’s posture, not unlike a cornered animal, and realized that neither of them wanted to be here. Blue eyes sharpened, guarded -- as if forgetting who was it that set Ririka free in the first place. “... What are you doing?” she asked. It was her that came, her that took that first step. It might as well be her to start.

“Working.” Kirari picked up one of the many scattered life plans as if to emphasize her point. She dropped it onto her laptop with an unimpressive flap, only half-heartedly keeping the charade going. “So if you could get to the point, dear sister?”

She tried to bite down the accusation that Kirari was procrastinating too. It was easy to accuse her of hiding from her own consequences, that perhaps the election was more than she could handle, and now that her last remaining support had been put out of commission temporarily, she was keeping her head down in the hope that whatever strings she pulled in the background would save her from plummeting. It was all there, ready to burn from her throat like an inferno, the last little bit of servitude inside her ready to turn inside out. But then-- then it wilted inside at the sight of icy eyes staring back, retreating into the crevices of dark thoughts entertained in those empty nights.

Ririka looked to the privacy curtain again. “... You haven’t been sleeping here, have you?”

Kirari shook her head. “Like Sayaka could actually recover with me being here~. Imagine me cramming in that tiny bed? It’s just not practical.”

Practical was a strange word from her. “So where--”

Her ears picked up the shifting behind them, just as Kirari placed a finger to her own lips. With feather light movement, Kirari slipped from her own chair and pulled the curtain back just a moment. Then drew the curtain behind her.

Ririka averted her eyes out of courtesy, even with the curiosity burning inside her and the lack of anything she could actually see with the sheet of fabric between them. When had the dynamic changed? She tried to think of the nights spent apart-- how it seemed so little as Ririka spent her time at the main house, enacting the very desire that had been brewing deep in her twin’s heart for so long.

What had happened at that tower? Had the fall jumbled her brain, putting it back together with the pieces haphazard, broken in different ways?

She didn’t look back until her twin had taken her place back at the other side of the desk, fingers naturally reaching for a cup of cold, burnt tea. As soon as she remembered the lack of steam billowing though, her fingers dropped. “So Saotome-san has stopped talking?”

It didn’t surprise Ririka that she was checking on her still, even without Igarashi-san’s wary eyes cataloguing their every move. “Does it surprise you?”

“I expected better.”

She always did. Ririka could write a book from the names of people that had disappointed Kirari in some way. Always particular, but needs simple when granted. She didn’t enjoy counting the years in which she catered to her every whim. “How?” she asked, even if she already knew the answer, “What was the point of bringing her over at all? You made the decision already before the phone call.”

The chuckle in response only unsettled her further. Ririka didn’t enjoy the feeling of being just slightly off-balance, the way it sank and settled long after their conversations were finished. “You’re angry!” she noted, almost exuberant at the thought, “How long did it take you to want more than just partners, Ririka? The election hasn’t been that long--”

“What are you doing here, sister?”

The teasing stopped, but the smile never faded from icy eyes. She gathered the life plan and laptop, and settled it to the side, joining the growing pile of discarded paperwork and signatures. The silence that suddenly fell over them was one of the worst she’d ever experienced, heavy and tempting to break-- as if held together by glass and nothing else. Ririka hadn’t wanted to come out with it, and she didn’t consider what it would mean for Kirari to pull those questions out. Yet, still, she gathered more items-- tea sets and tea boxes joining the disheveled pile with little thought or direction. The space that formed beside Kirari’s seat only made the dread inside her worse.

Her twin tapped just one on the wooden surface, chipping the manicured nail. Ririka picked up her chair and moved it to the other side of the desk to join her. She sat daintily back down her new seat, knees brushing against her twin as they faced each other. She gulped, visibly.

Kirari didn’t make mention of it. “It’d been a while since we played together, hasn’t it?”

Ririka nodded quietly in response, and wasn’t surprised by the coin fished out of Kirari’s pocket. It was a game that they often played together as children, practice that had been drilled into her heads before they had the presence of mind to gamble properly.  The coin was a two euro-- Austrian if she remembered right. The mix of silver and gold that bordered it stuck out as a sharp contrast from typical yen coins. One side had the depiction of mozart emblazoned proudly as its head, and the other a map of Europe with stars streaking downward on the other side. The number ‘2’ was the most prominent feature on its tail. It helped to keep those defining features in mind as she predicted.

The euro had been a gift from their mother, to whoever won their first game against the other. She would be proud to know that such a prize was turned into a gamble too.

“We both have questions we want to ask. I assume it’s just as easy to let the game decide who asks first.”

“One question per victory?” though it didn’t need to be asked. As much as Kirari had changed, there were still so many things that became predictable.

“That’s fine. I’ll go first.” Kirari offered the coin in her outstretched palm, smile placid and deviously devoid of the thoughts playing in her mind. Ririka plucked the coin out, nails lightly scratching similarly pale skin.

She looked to Kirari once and sighed. There wasn’t any backing out now, she supposed. Ririka steeled herself as she placed the coin on the table, balancing between her thumbnails. What would anyone say, seeing them play such a childish game like this? Now, of all times? She supposed she should be grateful that there wasn’t anything beyond information being gambled between the two.

It was, at least, deceptively simple. There wasn’t much she could do as she let loose the coin in a fast spin, knowing full well that the ball was in her sister’s court. The objective of the game was simple-- predict which side the coin would fall after it completed its spins. There were ways to slant the odds on Ririka’s end, and ways for Kirari to predict accurately on hers-- things that as children they couldn’t manage on their own. At least, not immediately. Over time, Ririka would notice how flicking the coin a certain would give her heads more often, and over time still, Kirira would notice the changes.

They taught themselves how to gamble just as much as their family did, but Ririka had learned early on that her twin always learned just a bit faster.

“Tails,” Kirari said, just as the coin shot out between them, spinning its dizzying circles against the wood. Just as much as her finger or spin could alter the outcome, so could the surface. Like any true expensive piece, the desk had a natural finish to it, smooth enough for papers and work-- but the edge of a coin, even one as thick as a euro-- was thin.

The coin’s arch was interrupted by a telling groove of wound, smacking it unimpressively against the desk. The coin shuddered a few beats, but the ringing noise was only a prelude to Ririka’s fate. As the sisters peered on, the face of the coin’s ‘2’ was obvious to both players.

She glanced to her sister once, and hoped that whatever question came was something Ririka knew how to answer.

“If you were so worried, why did you come at all?”

Kirari was pulling back. The question was nothing, but the fact that someone like her wouldn’t start out strong was surprising on its own. The answer didn’t need any subterfuge. “Because I wanted to help you.”

“We’re competing against each other now.”

“If it was about the election maybe…”

--

Kirari could only lie so much. She knew exactly what she saw back then, alone in the hallway together. She remembered watching as Kirari put herself back together with trembling hands, eyes never focusing on one thing in particular, and something in her heart that could be described as fear. She remembered how human she looked, and perhaps, for once, the idea that the perfect world she had set up for herself would slip through her fingers.

Ririka had been stuck on the idea that it was losing Sayaka was her idea of that perfect world breaking. She didn’t know anymore than Mary or anyone else did, but there had been something different in the way Kirari turned to her. The way she looked… alone.

She didn’t help a competitor. She had helped her sister.

“We should switch places,” Kirari had said, as if the words were enough to dispel the awkwardness of seeing her in such a state. “I have a spare jacket in the council room. If you could grab that, and--”

“Are you alright?” Though Ririka had spoken it, the words still felt foreign. She couldn’t remember any other time she had asked.

The question had disjointed her, maybe. The way she stopped, fingers picking at the lace of her sleeves. A breath, and she had stood a bit straighter, shoulders back. A handkerchief out of her skirt pocket to wipe the smeared lipstick. “Yes. The jacket, please. Make-up is in the drawer by my chair.”

She did as she was told, even as the nagging thoughts never strayed far from her mind. They stuck to her-- well beyond the conclusion of their game, as Kirari terrorized Miyo and Miri with her face, even as Mary continued to avoid her for days, and even as each night, she returned home to emptiness. She hated what this election had become for both of them.

She hated that she even doubted how truly gone Kirari was.

--

The hand was open to Ririka once again, the coin ready to be returned to its rightful owner. The half-answer was sufficient then, but it only made Ririka more nervous. She'd either use it to her advantage-- answer with half-truths herself or force Ririka's guard down enough to get something truly damning out. All things considered, it was probably a bit of both. She would have to be considerate of Mary as they continue.

"Always the nervous one," Kirari remarked, a touch of amusement in her voice as she rolled the coin between her finger tips. "You know it's only going to get harder from here."

She spun the coin with grace and ease-- the prospect of losing never once crossing her mind. "Tails," Ririka spoke, voice whisper quiet as they watched the coin spin and spin between them.

Heads.

"Do you enjoy having the mask off? Where is it now?"

"Two questions."

"Fine-- the first one then. I imagine you just have it at home."

If Kirari had been at home, she would know that already. It sat at her desk, slowly gathering dust the longer Ririka pretended it wasn't there. Walking through the hallways had proved to be the most difficult, laid bare by the student population. Sometimes, she would catch the less subtle ones gawking at her before turning their head away, embarassed at being caught.

And yet, people looked at her. They were forced for the first time in years to recognize her presence. They had to look her in the eyes to see that she wasn't Kirari. And Ririka had to force herself to look back. She had to dig something out for herself, become someone.

But she enjoyed the way Mary looked at her most.

"... Yes," she admitted. Nothing to be ashamed about, but...

Kirari looked pleased. She offered the coin once again, but Ririka hesitated this time in taking it.

"You were the one that gave it to me," she said.

"You needed it. Obviously, you don't anymore."

That wasn't how she remembered it. The idea had been suggested, forcefully, as a way to face opponents head on. But it didn't take long for Kirari to use it for her own means-- as things often did when Kirari gave gifts. Over time, the mask had become unnecessary. Mannerisms, behaviors, just the way Kirari viewed and studied each person became memorized and ingrained. Still, somehow, they were here, and in just a few weeks, Ririka seemed to forget who her twin was.

She took the coin, and spun it.

"Heads."

It took her a moment to realize Kirari was wrong-- but what observations Kirari made weren't infallible. Now that she had it, Ririka wasn't sure what to ask first. Should she go for something easy? Kirari wasn't the sort to shy away from the worst, but it was so easy to doubt herself now that they were in this position.

To start-- perhaps back to their earlier conversation? "What did you and Terano talk about?"

Kirari shrugged. "The new player."

That confirmed her suspicions at least. Someone that wasn't so different from herself or even Igarashi-san. Just in the background until they had something to say. A name came to mind, but if it was true... Ririka would find out soon enough. She offered the coin back to her sister, and promptly lost the next spin.

The quick intake of breath wasn't lost on Kirari. "You need to focus more-- I heard you and Terano talking too. What would Saotome-san say to such an offer?"

She would have to talk first. It didn't matter right now, but that could be why Kirari was asking at all. She wanted her to think about it. Someone like Mary? ... She wouldn't consider the offer at all. Maybe even find it a bit insulting. The offer was only extended after they made a name for themselves, only after victories against key family members on their own.

She would scowl, and make sure that the refusal would be as easy on Ririka as it was for her. Instead, Ririka mirrored the shrug, earning a small laugh from her sister. "Much better. Then again, I know the answer already."

The next spin went better on Kirari. Something had pulled her attention away-- another shift of the bed sheets behind them. When she snapped her head back, noticed the heads before her, Kirari didn't cry foul-- simply sighing in bemusement.

"Do you think you can win this?" Ririka asked once their eyes met again. She watched for any change in her expression.

Blue eyes retreaded back to the curtain, still as ever. "... Isn't it more fun not knowing?" More guarded. It wasn't like Kirari to show her hand so early. Still, Ririka saw it.

Another spin, and Ririka bit back a smile at the correct call. They weren't done. Not yet. "What do you think will happen if you lose?"

"Now we're getting to why you're here, aren't we?"

"Kirari."

"Fine, fine." She took the coin good-naturedly. "I suppose if I'm not dead by a gamble, I'll be devoured by my own aquarium, won't I? It seems poetic enough. I hope no one disappoints."

Deflection with grandiose speeches. She'd seen it all too often to take it seriously. This would require a different approach then. The fact that she was falling back on something so obvious was... telling, to say the least.

Ririka waited. The spin was sloppy, and it was easy to call the heads well before the momentum had come to a stop.

An eye twitch. Even better.

"And Igarashi-san? If you lose that is..."

Kirari let the silence hang between them, its spectre continuing to gnaw at the nerves of them both. She could deflect much the same way-- easily admit the truth of the matter. Guilt by association was already a realistic result, but Igarashi-san was never just an impassive observer. She made deals, taunted those that fell, defended the president's honor. She was the executor of the president's will, even if Kirari hadn't always voiced those thoughts.

She'd seen it time and time again, and would still now, if not for the current division. The Bami clan may come after Ririka when it was all over, but the school? They knew her as Mary's partner now. If anything, the directive absolved her of Kirari's eventual devouring.

She couldn't, wouldn't let herself believe it was on purpose.

Kirari picked up the coin again. It glinted under the hospital overhead lights. That was it then?

Ririka looked further, only growing more frustrated by the nothing that she saw in her sister's gaze. Cold, detached as ever. "Do you know what the school is saying right now, with you gone?"

"Of course."

"They'll find out why sooner rather than later."

She looked pensive. Something deep in her thoughts, turning-- far and away out of Ririka's reach. The smile was gone. "One more game?"

Could Kirari afford it? She hadn't waited for a direct response. She supposed the fact that Ririka remained had been enough. She spun the coin with a graceful flick, and there was something wistful in the way she watched it.

"Tails," Ririka called.

The light chuckle that came out was foreign to her. They both watched the coin spin and spin, languidly slow compared to the rounds before. Ririka was already forming the next question in her mind-- even as she wasn't sure she wanted the answer to it. There was so much left in the air, so much that still dug in.

Kirari had changed, and as the coin finally stopped its roll, her hand slammed down on it palm down, covering the result for them both.

Ririka blinked. "Wha--" She snapped her attention back to her twin.

"Are you sure?"

Her voice, her questions. All of it wilted the moment she saw them.

--

It must have been fate that she would find Mary now. Ririka had still been reeling from her time spent with her twin, one of the first private conversations they had in weeks. It had been routine that took her to the spot outside of Mary's classroom, routine that had her looking through the sea of faces to find fiery brown eyes staring back. She almost thought it an illusion at first. The sympathetic wince from Suzui-san as he slipped past next, recognizing the tension in the hallway, was very real.

"Mary--"

The blonde snatched the collar of her blazer and dragged her through the corridor, away from prying eyes. Ririka remained submissive to the yanks and pushes. It would take a careful hand to talk her down from anything considerably dangerous. The fact though that she was willing to talk at all now was a very good sign.

The twist through corners and hallways was haphazard, but by the time they finally stopped, it seemed sufficiently deserted. There were a few students that milled about, but ones that seemed wisely -- if not politely-- ignoring the two of them as Mary did an about face, only a few inches from Ririka's shrinking form.

"We're cutting the bullshit, got it?" Mary snapped. "No excuses, no nothing. If I get any of it, I'm out."

Ririka nodded.

"Alright, so what the hell was that about?!"

Too vague a question, but she understood well enough. She almost welcomed the reprieve after the tense conversation from yesterday. "... She wanted the attention away from her, so she asked me to switch places."

"I get that, but the fact that she mimicked you so... I didn't think she could show anything other than.. you know."

She understood how her sister gave that impression. Often times, Ririka would forget herself. The detached air. Some sort of cocky smirk. The reality for them both was much, much scarier she thought.

Mary still looked angry. Very angry. "Has she ever switched places with you since we started working together?"

"No. I hadn't spoken to her since--"

"How can I believe that?"

Ririka winced. She couldn't blame her. It wasn't as if she had been there to see the decision play out. They hadn't known each other long enough for her to notice tells-- smaller mistakes or nuances that Ririka couldn't replicate without several days of pretending. She wasn't sure if even Sayaka could-- even after knowing them for three years at this point.

Mary's eyes were as sharp as ever, daggers in her heart. She hated this. Hated this all so much. "You've been Kirari's understudy this whole time," she wished she didn't do this. "I know you mean well, Ririka. It might be the dumbest decision, but I trust you. We can't just keep doing this though... Why would you be in this election if you weren't working with Kirari? There's no way in hell you want to be president."

She was right about that.

"I doubt anyone would let you anyway," she huffed, arms crossed-- as if working out the riddle herself without input. "Why me? Kirari already had some... weird fascination, but I barely knew you before the--"

"You're right," her voice was meeker than she wanted, but Ririka couldn't deal with the speculation. She had grown so tired of being a shadow against the wall. Mary was the first person to see her, it felt like.  She didn't just take her as a Momobami, take her as her sister's double. She took her as a person-- someone that needed to prove herself against the sea of adversity that faced them.

Ririka had been proud to rise to the occasion. Had been proud to stand beside her as her equal, and she thought... she thought...

Wasn't this what Kirari wanted too? Didn't it seem like it? But why did she keep pulling the chain back?

Mary waited, eyebrows drawn and patient-- and Ririka couldn't appreciate that more. She knew it was so against her nature to be.

"... I think she needs help."

Her partner looked as bewildered as Ririka felt. "Help?! She did this to herself!"

"I know, but..."

--

Kirari had never cried.

At least, Ririka couldn't recall a time where she did. There had been these... shifts in behavior though. Ones that were difficult for her to describe, especially as, like with gambling, they started as children. They were swift and immediate, and often, Ririka would notice they came with little consideration to their consequences.

The first time had been at their mother's wake. She knew they were small, and the kimono felt too tight against her waist. Ririka had cried. She had shed more tears than what their mother likely deserved according to their elders, but there had been some semblance of love-- something Ririka keenly felt and believed in at that age. At first, she thought her twin had felt nothing in return-- as if she had taken that grief for her instead.

But when she looked into her icy eyes, they looked... wild. Unfocused. A predator pacing its cage, watching and waiting for the next hapless prey get too close to its bars.

Maybe it was how their mother died that did it. Shamed and hanging herself from the ceiling. Kirari was the first to find her in her bedroom, trying to pull her for breakfast. Ririka had been spared from the sight, even as Kirari expressed nothing other than the news of their mother's passing-- She would find out the details later from a retainer or a cousin perhaps. It was difficult to remember the details there.

Or that their mother lost against a Totobami.

Either way, Terano had come by, and after some mild discussion, they were secluded away-- out of sight and out of reach from Ririka. No one had minded the absence-- as clan members rarely did unless it involved one conflict or another.

She would see those wild eyes later though, staring down at every family member below her with fire from her bedroom balcony-- a fitting, temporary throne as their family observed the horrific scene before them. A crumpled and unconscious Terano, five cards clutched tightly in tiny fingers.

No one had taken the Momobami spot since.

But still...

Still.

To see the tears slipping down those wild eyes was a startling and mishapen image, especially to have that attention turned toward her-- those few inches between them, and Kirari tightly, tightly clutching the desk where the coin laid.

Ririka wished she had said no. She hadn't realized how much it meant to see her vulnerable-- sudden and stark in the stillness of the hospital room.

Her words were gone, but without thinking, Ririka had still reached forward, bridging the gap between them and gently slipped a thumb underneath Kirari's palm. Her twin didn't flinch, didn't move. Her breathing was steady, but Ririka's heart thumped wildly inside her chest. Her thumb found her twin's pulse, felt the steady beats against her own, and turned Kirari's hand over with no resistance.

The heads that stared back seemed to mock her. Ririka had lost.

Kirari took one look at the coin and began to laugh, loud and jubilant, even as the tears seemed to flow quicker and steadier than ever.

--

"Ririka?"

She blinked and shook-- and realized all at once that there wasn't any way she could naturally explain it to Mary. Not without explaining every sordid detail of their lives. Not without going over what she saw, when Ririka wasn't even sure of it herself. She saw the confusion still plain as day on Mary's face, and sighed slow, each piece of it an attempt to dispel what anxiety that brewed inside her at the memory.

"I... I don't know," Ririka confessed.

She was surprised to see sympathy tugging at Mary's features. "... You would know better than anyone, I think."

She wasn't sure anymore. It just took a few weeks, but it seemed Ririka had forgotten everything there was to her twin. Tears pricked at her eyes, useless and stupid for something so-- Kirari wouldn't have cared. She was just as much a subject to her whims. But she was her sister. Her twin. And right now? It all felt useless against what little time they had been separated from each other.

Mary took pity on her at least, cutting the inquisitive silence first. "Alright, alright. I'll bite," she sighed. "... So the preside-- your sister is having issues with the position. What's the point of the election then if she can just resign? A really shit cry for help?"

"If I may interject, Mary-san?"

Yumeko's airy voice had been the last thing Ririka expected, and with a jump, she snapped to a more stoic, straight posture-- fingers itching for a mask that still wasn't there. The new visitor had just rounded the corner, red eyes dangerously inquisitive and smile more calculating than Ririka wanted. The last person she needed to hear this conversation was the other wildcard in the school.

Yet, Mary humored her, regarding her classmate casually with one hand to her hips. "Figures no one can have a private conversation at this school..." she mumbled to herself before addressing Yumeko directly. "How long have you been listening?"

"I was just curious is all~. You two left in quite the hurry, and I wanted to invite you to town after class!"

"Yeah, right," Mary scoffed, but didn't push the girl away as she casually latched onto her arm, molding herself into the conversation. Every alarm was going off in Ririka's mind despite it all. Every bit of her wanted to flee. Right now. Where? Didn't matter. This was bad. Their conversation proceeded, undeterred by Ririka's distress. "... And?"

"Well, it's about the gamble the other day, correct?"

"Not all of it, but..."

"I imagine you can't just quit being a clan member, Ririka-san?" The question had been off-putting at best.

Ririka swallowed. "Well, no. But you know this already, Jabami-san."

"Huh?" Mary interjected, but Yumeko proceeded nonetheless.

"This is all speculation, of course, but the election is quite a spectacle for a resignation letter, isn't it?" The suggestion wasn't far off from Ririka's own thoughts, but to hear them spoken out loud was quite the experience. It churned her stomach. "... Igarashi-san's pool of resources is also quite large for her family history. She's a prosecutor's daughter, yet she was able to buy out Totobami-san without issue?"

"And? She could be using student council resources, maybe," Mary suggested, "The student council is still collecting on house pet debt during this whole mess, and I hadn't heard of the election committee keeping it to themselves in the mean time."

"They could be betting on another victor, you know. An outside bet-- just with enough cash-- and regardless of losing or winning, the president could have the cushion to live comfortably outside of the clan."

Ririka frowned. Something didn't sit right with her about the theory. If that were true, then the decision to turn her twin loose would make sense. Without saying anything, she could assist and push Mary to victory, thus winning the bet. Her opponent would have to be someone with just as much resources as herself to do that. The only person she could consider with that much power would be Terano... but there was no way she would take such a bet on.

There was also another issue entirely. "The Bami clan doesn't settle debt by money. Not always," Ririka remarked, "With as much as Kirari and myself have done? If it's not blood, it'll be our freedom at least."

"I won't let that happen to you, Ririka." The declaration had been unneeded, yet pleasantly unexpected from Mary. The surprise must've been too obvious as the serious set of her frown had given way to light flash of cheeks and a playful wave of her hand. Something she could look onto later, when there wasn't an audience.

Yumeko wasn't lost on the interaction as she smiled, suppressing the barest of giggles. "In any case, the president is back in school. If you're that curious, I'm sure you could ask her yourself."

"She's back?" Mary echoed her thoughts perfectly. "When??"

"I just saw her come in this morning. Sayaka-san looked remarkably well too. I'm glad the poison didn't keep her down for too long."

"Thank god! Maybe I can finally get someone to gamble again! Everyone's been so shy with votes lately."

"Oh! You haven't met them yet?"

Mary paused, "Who are you talking about?"

Ririka waited, even as she knew at this point that it would just confirm the truth in her eyes. A new target had been placed. It was a clever move on Kirari's part during her absence. It dried up the vote buying, and provided a convenient distraction while Igarashi-san was recovering. It was simply a matter of who could beat them, or perhaps, join them.

Yumeko's grin was wide. "Why, Rei Batsubami~."

[gasp-iwrotesomething]

Hi there. I have a question and a prompt, if that is ok. Firstly, would you consider adding Cecelia Visconti to your list? I feel she’s up your alley. Secondly, could you please write a piece where Vivienne gets to meet Mc’s very catholic family?

Hi! Thank you for the suggestion, I’ll definitely catch up on Cecelia’s route soon, she seems so interesting! And sure thing, I’d be down to write that prompt for you! Thank you for your request and I hope you enjoy! (oh and I ran into a little bit of a wrinkle in my writing methods so I decided to use my MC’s name in-game for this fic, in case you’re wondering as to who exactly Ramona Diaz is; just a simple fix for the issue I ran into)

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Ramona was filled with dread and resentment at the sight of her parents, remembering the disappointment they had hoisted onto her shoulders before she had joined the Gilded Poppy. Before she met Vivienne. That had seemed like such a long time ago, being stuck in New York trying desperately to turn a profit from her artistic abilities. Ramona almost boarded a flight back to Florida too, almost injecting herself into her parent’s radar just to have them potentially poison her with their disappointment. If only I could build an immunity against their judgement, Ramona bitterly murmurs to herself. Vivienne was walking beside her, her hand brushing the small of Ramona’s back; a comforting touch. Ramona absorbs the touch for all she’s worth and feels the tension in her shoulders subside ever so slightly. She would need every ounce of Vivienne’s consolation to make it through this exchange safely... without blowing her top.

“You must be Vivienne, it’s a pleasure to meet you!” Ramona’s mother politely juts out her hand to shake Vivienne’s, a smile cambered on her lips. The resentment gnawing Ramona apart internally increased by tenfold at the sight. Her father replicated the same, bottomless expression of kindness, his eyes crinkling at the corners. Vivienne returns their looks with ease, her eyes falsely lit with admiration, similar to how she seduced people during heists. Accept this time she’s charming two bigoted die-hard Catholics into thinking she wasn’t a professional thief in a serious relationship with their daughter. Before meeting with her parents, Ramona had informed Vivienne of the past she had fled. It wasn’t the flashiest, what with bland liturgies and brash acts of rebellion. You know, the typical upbringing of every closeted teenager. Vivienne had listened thoroughly, offering her sympathetic ear the entire time. No amount of apology or remorse could change the way her life with her parents had panned out but the seductress’ solicitous response was a refreshing breath of air, like Ramona had been gifted lush air after inhaling smoke all her life.

“The pleasure is all mine truly, la señora Diaz.” Ramona’s head reels back into the time frames of reality at that, the vague frown on her lips peeling away. Vivienne’s gloved hand was clasped with her mother’s in greeting, firm and well-mannered, before her mother takes back her hand. The interaction left a foul taste to infect the back of Ramona’s tongue. It was like Vivienne and her mother meeting was the clashing of two different worlds, evoking chaos and unease. As if just realizing Ramona was there, her mother pastes an extra-bright smile on her face as she turns to her daughter. She didn’t even notice me! And I’m her flipping daughter, for God’s sake! “Ah, there’s my beloved mija, I have missed you so much!” Her mom’s accent is a nostalgic sound, a bittersweet galaxy of memories all charged into a clump of feelings as confusing as unraveling a rubber band ball blindfolded. Then without so much as a warning, her arms surround Ramona in a crushing embrace. Instinctively, Ramona tenses. She makes no move to return the hug and her mother makes no move to care, just cradling her close. It’s the same page we’d been on before I left for New York too; her disregarding my feelings and me neglecting to express them. Over her mother’s shoulder, Ramona caught Vivienne’s chestnut eyes. A sliver of sympathy was twinkling there along with a flash of pride; of adoration.

Ramona’s mother pulls away far enough to gaze into Ramona’s eyes, her hands braced on her forearms affectionately. There was an edge to her mother’s gaze. “You seem so...” The woman hovered over words for a moment, her eyes flitting from Ramona’s face to her hair to her outfit with awe. It seemed she was struggling to think of a pleasant adjective to describe her. “...different.” She finally finds a word and expresses it, staunch disapproval ripening her chagrin. Ramona averts her mother’s judgmental eyes. They’re still disappointed--of course they’d be. Now mulling it over in my head, the hope that they would leave our issues as a family in the past seems so immature. Vivienne, as quietly agile as per usual, approaches MC and reapplies her touch, conspicuously enough to not draw unwarranted attention. The last thing I need is to further their disappointment them by letting let it be known that I’m with a woman.

“Don’t scare her away so soon, mi esposa, this is our first meeting in months!” Ramona’s father chirps, an easy, cheerful grin spread on his face, the sides of his eyes crinkled. He swoops in to save the conversation before it plummeted, encapsulating Ramona in tight bear hug. “It’s good to see you again, Ramona.” In her chest, the rubber band ball gained about a hundred more rubber bands, the size changing and becoming even harder to dissect. “I was just making an observation.” Ramon’s mother defends, her brows knit with a hint of irritation.

Vivienne chimes in for the first time in minutes, her voice lilting with optimism. “All of this reunion has made me feel quite hungry, we should take our seat and order some lunch!” Ramona knew right away that she was trying to lighten the mood, uplift the tension between the three of them. So she takes a deep breath and forces on her most convincing smile. “Yeah, we’d be better off talking over a nice lunch.”

Flash forward approximately ten minutes and thirteen seconds later and Ramona was seated at booth, with Vivienne squeezed in next to her. The soft satin of her glove was all Ramona could cling to in that moment when her parents were sitting on the opposite side of the table. Her mother was fiddling with her wedding band, wrapped up in her thoughts, while her father was nose-deep in browsing the menu. “So,” Ramona’s mother speaks up, shattering the silence entwined around them, “how did New York go, Ramona? I intended to ask you when you returned to Florida.” 

Ramona squeezes Vivienne’s hand. A brief attempt to muster strength she never anticipated needing. Vivienne understands how I feel. She knows how my parents and I have been separated in faith. She’ll be next to me every step of the way, helping me through this. Hell, the seductress had even gone as far as to plan ahead for the questions Ramona’s parents would inevitably ask. What have you been up to? Easy; Ramona had scored a job as a traveling artist, venturing to countries such as France and Italy. Why haven’t you contacted us? Simply a tightly jammed schedule. Who’s Vivienne to you? Not even an issue; Ramona’s apprentice who had dreams of becoming a successful artist. Everything’s under control, Ramona tells herself gently, and nothing’s set in stone; we’ve been apart for so long that not listening to me would seem super petty.

And so, with a steadying breath and another comforting squeeze from Vivienne’s fingers, Ramona begins to speak with her parents.

The long overdue conversation had begun and Ramona had never been more thankful for the seductress’ presence in her entire life.

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Thank you for your request, @evoedbd! I loved writing this Vivienne fic for you!

If you want to request something, here are the Guidelines, here’s Who I Write For, and here is where you can Request me.

[flutteringphalanges]

Summary:  Chloe and Lucifer are survivors in a post apocalyptic world trying to make it through life step by step. (The cause is not biblical, but still falls in the canonical universe of the show.)

Read on FFN and AO3

A/N: I hope you enjoy this chapter and the little goodies within it! Comments are greatly loved and appreciated! (Sorry it’s been a year lol)

                                                 Chapter Five

Fighting one's instinct versus knowledge on the situation at hand was becoming very clear to Chloe as she ventured deeper into the brush and away from Lucifer. Together, the Devil was vulnerable to any injury he received. Yet, as crudely humorous as it was, the same could be said when she was separated from him. Vulnerability. Such a fine skill to hold during the end of the world.

Twigs scraped against the detective's skin as walked as silently as she could. Every time a dead leaf crunch underneath her shoe, the more on edge she became. Despite their remote location, it was never a bad thing to be on the alert for looters. Or worse. These dark times had really turned some into true monsters. The things she'd witness, the stories she'd heard. It was something she tried to never think about, pushed far back to the outer limits of her mind.

Not much further, Chloe. She said to herself. Soon enough you can turn around and go back to Lucifer and-

There came a rustling noise behind her, a very distinct, undeniable sound. Chloe's blood ran cold as she froze in place, mouth completely dry. It came again, closer now. Heart pounding so hard she could hear it in her ears, she tried to decipher the sound. Human? Animal? Before the next foot fall, the detective began to sprint.

Noise seemed to come from every direction as Chloe ran blindly through the dying forest. Blood pumping, breathing ragged, she kept going and going as what she could only presume was her hunter closing in on its prey. Just as she thought her limbs couldn't move any faster, someone grabbed her from behind.

"Detective," Lucifer tried to steady Chloe as she struggled against him, still in a state of defense. "Detective, it's just me. It's Lucifer."

"Something," she swallowed thickly, gasping for air as she pointed behind her. "Something-"

"It's alright," he soothed, letting her lean into him. "It was just a deer."

There, standing a few hundred feet away from them, Chloe could just make out the body of a doe. The creature seemed to meet her gaze, dark eyes staring back curiously. How odd it was to see such a thing out in this wasteland. A forest once teeming with life now stripped of its beauty. How the animal had survived this long, she wasn't sure. Before she could even make a remark, the deer bounded off, leaving both Chloe and Lucifer alone once more.

Embarrassment flushed in her cheeks as the adrenaline faded away. Months ago, or however long it'd been, she'd gone for her gun first. Fight versus flight. But just then, her gut reaction was to run. Flee into the uncharted woods and into a trap for all she knew. She was exhausted, strained from their days trekking through the wilderness. Sometimes it even surprised her that her sanity had somewhat remained intact.

"Shit!" She cursed, breaking away from Lucifer. Her foot connected with a small stone, sending it flying into the base of a tree. "I could've just gotten us both killed. If it had been...if I had…"

"Technically, you could claim that I was at fault since I'm the reason we're down here in the first place." He gave a tired smile, hoping she'd take to his crude attempt at humor. She didn't. "Everything's fine now," he reassured, moving to her side. "We're okay and that's what's important." Lucifer dangled his leg in front of her. "Good as new!"

Chloe's mouth twitched into a small smile, her head shaking at the gesture. Optimism at its finest. Inhaling softly, she reached over and gave his hand a small squeeze. The Devil's eyes flickered down to her fingers before flashing up to meet her gaze.

"No more injuries," she murmured, her smile weary.

"None," he agreed.

                                                     XXX

Even though she was expecting it, the sound of shattering glass still startled her as Chloe watched Nate ram a rock straight into the vending machine. It took a couple good strikes, and while she knew Lucifer could easily do it in one with his fist, she didn't feel the need to explain her partner's true nature to their group. So she waited hungrily, the desire to eat overpowering the guilt of stealing.

"Hell yeah," the young man chuckled, lunging straight for a bag of cheese puffs. "I love these damn things!"

But before Nate could even open his beloved prize, Lucifer quickly snatched it from his grasp. The man reeled around, a look of pure resentment burning in his eyes as the Devil held it just out of his grasp. Unlike him, the others had not immediately gone into a frenzy for the food. While each one of them wanted nothing more than to dig into whatever the machine offered, it was a silent agreement some sort of rules needed to be set in place.

"Give. That. Back." Nate growled, trying in desperation to retrieve his meal. "That's mine. I earned it!"

"Ha," Lucifer snorted, clearly amused by the other man's desperation. "If anything, you've earned yourself a first class ticket to Hell-"

"We need to ration," Chloe interrupted, throwing her partner a look. "Despite our luck in finding this before someone else, we need to figure out how to divide this to last." Her eyes flickered to the vandalized machine and the junk food it held. "Not that candy and chips are the best form of nutrition."

Though the machine was far from empty, it clearly hadn't been refilled before the chaos hit. Off brand chips, some chocolate bars of various kinds, gummies that looked a little stale even from where Chloe was standing, and a few packs of gum. That was it. Empty calories that would cause them to crash and burn energy. But it was all they had and anything was better than nothing.

"Come on," Nate groaned. "We've had barely anything to eat in the past several days. I'm starving. We all are!" He wildly gestured to the others. "What's one bag of chips going to do?"

"I'm with Chloe," Ruth spoke up, moving to the detective's side. "We need to have a plan. If we're going to make it far." She swallowed, her shoulders rising as she inhaled. "Before we turn on each other."

"You have my vote," Charlie agreed, throwing Nate a cold look. "Sometimes you have to sacrifice to get things done."

"Mine too," Kate added, her eyes focused on the ground. "It's for the best, I think."

All eyes fell on Lucifer, who, still holding the chips, simply shrugged. "You know whose side I'm always on." Chloe's smile only deepened Nate's scowl. "Especially when it comes to crisp eating pricks-"

"It's settled then," the detective cut in before Lucifer could finish. "We split things up. Divide and conquer." With a small smile, she reached in and grabbed a bag of old gummies. "So how do we go about this?"

After much debate, mostly on Nate's part, the snacks were gathered and split up. They had a good few days worth of "meals" if one would call them that. Chloe's stomach was already twisting at the look of all the sweets. It wasn't that she didn't like sugary foods-she really did, but for however long it would last, that's what her diet would consist of.

"Eat."

The detective was pulled from her thoughts as Lucifer continually poked at her with a chocolate bar. She eyed him carefully before taking the candy and breaking it in half. Handing him his piece, she began to nibble on hers, trying not to cram the entire thing down in one bite. She didn't have to look at the Devil to know he wasn't consuming his.

"Eat your own," she mumbled. "I'm fine."

"I'm not hungry," he countered. "You have it. I don't even like chocolate." Like a child, he obnoxiously poked her with it again. "Quick, it's melting in my hands and I don't want my clothes to get bloody chocolate stains on top of everything else."

Chloe huffed and shook her head. "You're being ridiculous right now, you know that?"

"And you love me for it," he smirked before forcing the treat into her hand. "Now eat, I'll be fine. I'll just have a few extra licorice whips later."

They both knew that it'd be a long while before they'd eat again, but neither spoke up about it. Instead, Chloe just leaned against him feeling his arm wrap around her waist. The wind began to blow, but only silence followed in its wake.

                                                       XXX

"Damn mosquitoes!"

Lucifer slapped the back of his neck as they trudged on through the woods. The air was sticky and the heat made Chloe's head spin. Despite the fact they were heading up north, the weather had turned out of their favor. Days had passed since they last saw rain, maybe even weeks. She was too tired, too thirsty to concentrate.

"Hey, hey," she hadn't even realized she was slipping down to the ground before Lucifer grabbed her. "Stay with me, detective. I know it's hotter than Hell, but we have to keep walking. We have to find water, yes?"

Chloe nodded her head weakly, her dry lips smacking together as Lucifer threw her arm around his neck. Weather seemed to be going from one extreme to the next. Maybe it was normal. Maybe it was from the bombs. But she needed to fight through this. Fight to stay alive. Survive for Trixie. For Lucifer.

"You know what I want," her voice slurred as if she was drunk. "A nice, big swimming pool of water that I could drink out of."

"I could go for a few shots of whiskey myself," he added, but a glass of water would be nice too I suppose." He chuckled, but Chloe could hear the worry in his tone. "Tell you what, we survive this and I'll build you the biggest bloody pool in all of Los Angeles."

"And we'll skinny dip," Chloe mumbled deliriously. "It's too hot for clothes."

"Ooh, you are quite the temptress, detective," Lucifer smirked, shifting to carry more of her weight. "I'll hold you to that."

They continued to walk on, Chloe growing more and more out of it as they went. Lucifer fear for her outdid his own concern for his well being as they pressed on. He knew if they didn't find some source of water soon, their outcome wouldn't be so pleasant. If running Hell was still a concern of his, he'd consider making this a torture option.

"Lucifer," Chloe murmured, bringing Lucifer back to reality. "If something happens to me-"

"Stop," he interrupted firmly. "It won't."

"But if it does-"

"It. Won't."

For a brief moment, his eyes flickered a crimson red. Though his anger was not aimed at Chloe. No. Literally at everything but her. As they moved on, almost painfully slow, suddenly the detective's voice broke through the silence.

"Lucifer, look," she nearly rasped. "A house!"

At first, he thought she was hallucinating, her hand shaking as she pointed towards the distance. He was going to ignore her words when his eyes did too catch a glimpse of something past a thicket of trees. By Father, she was right. There was a house. Right in the middle of bloody nowhere. The Devil couldn't contain the grin that spread across his face.

"Why my dear detective, I believe we found something much better than a pool," he breathed, looking down at her. "Much better indeed."

At least, he hoped as much.

[alarawriting]

The Broken World

Aka, “a flying lesbian and a talking cat mage travel across a Dyson sphere that’s been shattered to find the flying woman’s girlfriend, who happens to be an Archmage, in hopes that she can fix it.”

Rev paced alongside the banks of the dry river, growing more heartsick – and thirstier – the deeper she went into Astreicchia. Grass still grew, trees and shrubs still had their leaves, there were even wildflowers here and there… but crops that needed irrigation had wilted or withered, and the houses she found along the riverbank were all empty. Which was better than some alternatives, she supposed. It looked as if most Astrecchians had managed to get off their broken county and onto the next one, where, if her map was accurate, there should still be plenty of water.

Kaloptis, behind her, had had lakes, and a rise in the land as it approached the county line. Lakes had survived the Shattering unless a county line ran through a lake, and rivers survived, albeit not as rivers anymore, in most counties, because most counties were somewhat concave, with the land rising as it approached the line… not enough to keep rivers from flowing, before the Shattering, but afterward it was possible to dam the shallows of the river where it touched the edge, and keep it from flowing over the side.

Astreicchia was flat. Completely, totally flat. It had been soft, rich, wet land, ideal for growing crops that needed plenty of water. The river and its network of tributaries and streams and oxbows with portage canals had made it possible to farm all over Astreicchia, and to travel anywhere you wanted to go within the county via water, albeit often with a need for super-light water skimmers. But because it was flat, there had been nothing at all keeping all of the river from pouring over the sides from every end, and because it had so many streams and tributaries, it had bled water from dozens of places. It had very likely run completely dry in a day or two at most.

Mao stalked over to her. “This place is terrible. Can’t we go back to Kaloptis?”

“No, and where have you been?”

“Looking for fish,” Mao said, as if it was the most obvious thing in the world. “We’re traveling alongside a river and yet there are no fish.”

“Because all the water fell over the sides, Mao, and it carried the fish with it. Anyway, if you found any fish they’d be several days rotten, or some other creature would have gotten to them before you.”

Mao favored her with a long, slow blink, his expression of “Give me the strength to deal with this stupidity.” “All of the water receding should have left behind ponds in places where the riverbed was deeper than the rest of the riverbed, and any fish that got into those ponds would still be alive. That is why I expected to find fish. And water. It won’t be fresh but I could kill anything living in it, if I could find any.”

“Fair enough.” Rev was going to need water before they reached the edge of Astreicchia; she’d refilled her canteen in Kaloptis before flying over here, but humans, with their efficient defenses against overheating, were not well optimized to go without water for any length of time, and Rev couldn’t carry the weight of several days’ worth of water for herself and still fly. Water was stupidly heavy. “Astreicchia’s really, really flat. We might have more luck finding a well.”

“Who would have bothered to dig a well this close to the river?”

“No one. I’m saying maybe we tack away from the river, head further in.”

Mao sat down and began washing his left front paw. “It’s as good as any plan, I suppose. Why can’t we go back to Kaloptis?”

“Because the way out is through.”

His tail switched with irritation. “Kaloptis bordered the counties of Seldane and Aios; either one of them could still have us heading sunward if we just headed east once we were on them. We didn’t need to pick the eastmost county to travel through.”

“Says the guy with the really short legs and no wings. I’m the long distance traveler and I say, I want to stay as close to due east as we can, because it saves time.”

“We could head skyward via the north or south…”

“No.”

“You know it’s a better idea. You know that we’re going to have problems crossing the zone of the sun, and if we went north or south, there would be no sun issues.”

“I also know I can see the northern mountain range, and when I look south with the telescope, it looks even worse damaged than our eastward path. Most of the counties south upcurve look like they crashed into each other.” Rev shook her head. “Astreicchia’s not that big. We’ve got water for another day, and I can go for two days without water if we travel at night so it’s not too hot. Plus, it might rain.”

“Can’t count on rain.” Mao started on the second paw. “We’ve got clouds floating below the counties now, where they don’t do anyone any good, and if there were any weather mages in Astreicchia they aren’t here now.”

“I’m not counting on it, but if we move inward we might find survivors, or ponds left behind by the water receding.”

“Thought you wanted to go by the fastest route possible. Wouldn’t that be the river? We might run into natural or man-made barriers along the way if we move away from the river.”

“There’s very likely a road that runs more or less the same direction as the river.”

“Hmm.” He groomed the back of his head with a wet paw. “I suppose that could work.”

“You ‘suppose’. Well, thank you for kindly giving your permission, gracious sir, I don’t know what I would do without it.”

“You’d do something stupid, I’m sure,” Mao said, and got back to his feet, walking around and between Rev’s legs. “Let’s get moving if we want to find water. I can make it to the edge of Astreicchia on the water we’ve got, but you can’t.”

“And good luck getting off Astreicchia without me,” Rev pointed out.

“I’d figure something out.”

***

The abandoned houses didn’t have water, and they had no meat for Mao, but there were canned fruits and vegetables, and the water in the cans could keep Rev going a few more days. Mao, who very much disliked the baked travel crunchies Rev had for him, vanished for several hours and came back with a dead rat, while Rev was making camp for the night. “Do you want some?” he asked. “I’ll let you cook it if you want.”

Rev blinked. It was a big rat. “How many of these guys are still alive?”

“I didn’t count them, but there’s no shortage. They’re getting desperate for water, but they’re not dead yet. Not until I catch them, anyway.” He picked it back up with his mouth and brought it over to Rev’s feet. “You didn’t tell me if you wanted to cook it or not. I know you didn’t find any meat in there.”

Rev knelt down and scritched the back of his head, and he leaned back into it. “What would I do without you looking out for me?”

“Starve, probably,” Mao said.

“Probably,” Rev said. “But I’m not going to cook up a rat.”

“Suit yourself. This guy smells juicy.”

Mao picked the rat back up and walked off a short distance away. Rev called after him, “Don’t forget to kill the fleas!”

“Right, because I can’t do that anytime if they land on me.”

“They carry disease, Mao. You know that.”

If the cat could roll his eyes, Rev was sure he would. “Fine.” He lay down sphinx-style, tail swishing, and stared at the dead rat. A short yowl came from his mouth, and he swatted the rat. Then he picked it up again and started eating it.

It was weird watching a cat do magic. A cat who could talk was fairly weird to begin with, of course, and then there was the fact that Mao’s specialty was chaos magic, which used a lot less symbology in general than Rev was used to seeing. When Tally did magic, her eyes glowed and her hair blew all around her and sometimes her skin lit up. Most mages weren’t that showy, but there was usually some kind of glow to indicate that magic was being used. Chaos magic wasn’t visible, and that meant that as far as Rev could tell, Mao had just yowled at his food and smacked it. She had to assume he’d just cast a spell to kill all the fleas on his rat, like she’d told him. Mao was stubborn, but not stupid.

If she wanted to, she could sleep in one of the abandoned houses, but she’d slept rough plenty of times in her life, and she didn’t feel good about sleeping in a house when she didn’t know what had happened to the owner. She hoped they’d been evacuated… but they might have become so desperate for water they might have tried to rappel over the side, down to the world’s skin. Rev had flown down near the world skin; she didn’t recommend it. It was metal, too hot in the day and too cold at night, and so dark it absorbed what little light got in from the sun between the floating counties. And it would be nearly impossible to rappel down from a floating county and survive it; if you weren’t an Aeriel, how were you going to get down more than 200 feet? Who had that much rope lying around? Once you were down there, what would you eat?

It would be different if anyone had expected the world to shatter. People would have had time to prepare.

She unfolded her wings from the harness on her back, placed one on the ground, and laid down on it, on her back. Then she pulled the other one over herself. No moon had been fired tonight; there was no light up there but the tiny stars that stayed suspended in the sky all the time. She couldn’t see any sign of the other side of the world through the darkness, but she knew it was up there.

I’m coming, Tally, she thought.

Talamaranyellethonaiakatis. Archmage Talamara. The most powerful mage Rev knew. The most beautiful woman in the world… at least, in Rev’s opinion. Tally, with her eyes glowing with magic and her long hair floating in a cloud all around her. Tally with her hair down straight around her shoulders and her smile, lighting her face metaphorically, sipping a tea and talking animatedly about her current incomprehensible project that Rev would listen to all day anyway even if she couldn’t comprehend any of it because it was Tally.

Tally, who was trapped on the far side of the world, and had been ever since the world broke.

Tally would know how to fix it. Draw down the floating counties, latch them back into the world’s skin, reassemble the world and get the weather working properly again. Tally was a genius, and surely she was spending her captivity researching how to repair the world. Rev was sure of it. Once she found Tally, and freed her, Tally could fix it all.

She felt warmth against her side. “Done with your rat?” she asked.

“It was tasty,” Mao murmured. “But I want fresh water. Blood’s nice, but now it’s all over my muzzle.”

“I’m not giving you some of my canteen just so you can wash your face.”

“Wouldn’t ask you to.” He was purring; Mao could talk and purr at the same time. Apparently cats didn’t use their voices to purr. Rev hadn’t known that, before meeting a talking cat.

The purr felt soothing against her side and the warm fur was welcome in the dark. Rev closed her eyes.