#and the sharps container they gave me is HUGE and the needles are tiny

[starryeyesstarryskies]

just did my first T-shot! things i have learned:

- the cover on the drawing needle is hard to get off. be very very very careful because the syringe can recoil when you get it off and cut you and it hurts very badly

- needles are easier to take off the syringe than i thought they would be? I was super stressed about that, for some reason.

- shots are SCARY. scarier than i expected. i picked subq shots because i knew i wouldn't be mentally able to do intramuscular, but theres a moment where you're pinching your skin and the needle is right about to penetrate your stomach and you panic a little bit and psych yourself out. that is the "Do Not Stab Yourself" instinct

- the Do Not Stab Yourself instinct was surprisingly easy to overcome. i poked myself a couple of times before i was able to do it but i just started pushing down and didn't stop and then it was all the way in. i am not afraid of needles though so ymmv

- the spot i poked and didnt go through with has a little red dot, but the actual injection spot didn't bleed at all which is interesting

- you can go slow! everything i read said that going slow hurts more and you should make it as quick as you can, but it really doesn't hurt that much. there's just a little pinch before it goes in and then it doesn't hurt anymore once it's in. im gonna be going slow with them.

- the injection spot feels like, really warm for some reason. it's not unpleasant just kinda weird

aaaand thats all! :) all in all, much less of a big deal than i thought it would be. i was so worried it would be really difficult but aside from the cutting myself on the drawing needle, the whole thing went very smooth and easy. i could easily do this every week for the rest of my life.

[slimy-vore-bog]

Going Through Lots of Denial

Alternate title: Encounter with another Beast

Alright this story is definitely not to everyone��s taste... (pun intended) Let’s get the warnings/contains out of the way (mostly warnings this time)

Contains: prey Luz and Amity, feral pred, a tiny bit of lumity, (Luz is completely convinced Amity’s dead in one point in the story) assumed fatal vore (but both characters make it out alive) mentions of hard vore, mentions of digestion. (Luz also assumes she bumps into Amity’s remains after she’s eaten, but Amity quickly screams back, so it sorta becomes a funny scene?)

Either way... This is not much worse than a child accidentally seeing an 13+ animated movie on accident, in terms of how bad it is.

(most of the shock comes from the unexpected, but I don’t want to not warn people properly. Not since Worrying; I felt really bad ‘bout that one)

So the rating is 13+ for the somewhat unsettling imagery (and some minorly depressive tones after Amity’s eaten)

This is the pred character, but I do describe him in the story itself: The Beast I was too Lazy to Name

word count: 6.5 k

***

Luz and Amity were taking a stroll through the forest, Luz had gently grabbed the other girls had a couple minutes ago. Amity seemed nervous, but Luz did her best to convince the young witch everything was going to be fine. That was why she had opted to hold her hand. Totally not because she wanted to hold her hand and just the thought made her flustered. That was definitely not it. The only reason her heart was fluttering was, because it was dark and they were both nervous… Definitely.

Amity’s hand felt clammy against hers. The green haired witch’s gaze flicked to her and away again, but she never did anything to protest the hand holding. She even leaned a bit into Luz while they walked. But that had to be because the witch was anxious too.

Luz shifted her shoulders, feeling a bit awkward, “so, what about the forest is so dangerous?” Amity had mentioned some sort of beast that lived out there, but she couldn’t remember why exactly the beast was something to be feared. “The thing that lived out here hasn’t been spotted in a while, right? Maybe it’s dead?” They hadn’t run into anything scary yet, and they were quite far into the forest at this point.

Amity looked at Luz with an unreadable expression. “Or maybe the beast has just caught the last few witches that saw it.”

A chill went through Luz’s body. “There’s no way, Amity!” Luz spoke louder in her unease. “It can’t be that hard to not get caught by that thing you told me about.” Luz paused. “What does it even look like?” She couldn’t remember if Amity described the creature.

Amity thought about it for a couple seconds. “It’s over twelve feet from the ground to the shoulders… It looks like a manticore, but without the batwings and the scorpion tail… It has bird legs in front, and a giant underbite…” Amity let go of Luz’s hand while thinking about it. “I think there’s something about the tail… It’s scaly.”

They continued to walk beside each other, now more on edge than before. Neither of the girls made the move to grab the other’s hand again. “So it’s a lion with a scaly tail and bird legs? Does it have a mane?” Luz didn’t know if that meant it was male or female, having learnt about maned lionesses before, but she wanted to know what to look for.

Amity nodded. “It does have a mane.” She thought about Luz other question. “I guess it is like a lion, but it doesn’t have spikes across its back and two tails. A regular lion doesn’t have all the traits of the beast either.”

Of course, a lion wouldn’t look like an earth lion there. Luz should have guessed that. If there wasn’t a Boiling Isles equivalent, Amity wouldn’t have known what that even was. “There’s sure a lot of creatures that looks like earth lions here,” she stated with a bit of a laugh to her voice. Her smile faded, as a thought hit her. “But if it does find us, what exactly are we supposed to do?” Luz didn’t want an encounter with a twelve-foot-tall lion, but she wanted to know what to do if it did find them.

Amity tensed. “I don’t know…” She glanced over at Luz, before her a realization hit her. “You’re human! I don’t know what humans are supposed to do… If I get caught, please just run without trying to save me.”

Luz had no idea what Amity was on about. Was there a protocol for getting caught by a monster? “I’m not going to leave you to die! Amity, let’s just head back before anything happens.”

Amity nodded, relieved at Luz’s suggestion to head back. “Yeah, that’s probably for the best.”

Luz wished that was how it had ended. Amity and her deciding to head home, maybe Amity and Luz having a sleepover at the Owl House due to how late it was. But, of course, she wasn’t lucky enough for that. She would have to live through something traumatic to ever get something half as good.

It was eerie to walk through the quiet and dark forest. Luz could feel the hairs on the back of her neck stand up at the slightest shuffle of pine needles. Even the ones that rustled under Amity’s shoes, nearly made her jump. Amity had suggested getting left behind for Luz’s sake and Luz wasn’t going to let that happen. She had grabbed a tight hold of Amity’s hand; there was no way Amity was leaving her side now.

Amity’s hand was holding onto hers too, but it wasn’t as tightly. They walked in silence, glancing into the forest and back out on the path they were following. Amity’s ears twitched and turned from time to time, her grip tightening when she heard something Luz couldn’t. But it turned out to be nothing.

“I think there’s something stalking after us,” whispered Amity, making Luz jump and eep in surprise from the sound of her voice alone. “Sorry…” she apologized quietly. “But I swear I can hear something walking out there.”

Luz couldn’t hear a thing, but there was no reason to take risks. “Alright; is it better to walk or run?” she knew that running from a normal lion would cause it to give chase, but maybe the Boiling Isles were the opposite.

“We need to walk, and seem like we’re not worth eating.” Amity let go of her hand. “We can’t match anything like that in size…” She thought about it for a few seconds. “I’m going to summon an abomination.” She cast the spell, as the abomination rose from ground. It was puny compared to the one she had made grom night, but it was still taller than her. “It can defend us, if anything is out there.”

It groaned behind them, staring down at them with the hollow sad look in its eyes.

Amity commanded it to be quiet. It stopped the noises immediately, but still stared down at its creator.

Luz grabbed Amity’s hand again, slowly moving towards the Owl House. But Amity didn’t seem to want to hold her hand anymore. Luz wouldn’t let go when Amity told her to. “I’m not going let you fall behind, if we have to run!”Luz couldn’t explain how horrible the thought of that was. She unintentionally tightened her grip on Amity’s hand. “If you get eaten; it would be my fault!”

Amity shushed her. “Please be quiet!” she hissed out. She spoke, after calming down. “If the beast hasn’t found us yet; it’s going to.” Amity’s ears twitched, as she heard something even Luz could hear. The quiet slow pats of something hitting the pine needles just beyond the trees.

They both stood completely still, watching as the creature stepped out from behind the cover of trees.

Amity’s description hadn’t done the creature justice. If Luz had known it looked like that, she would never had taken the risk of heading out into the forest. Luz took a step away from it, clutching onto Amity’s hand.

The lion watched them with intense orange eyes. Its mane was dark and matted, and so was the fur on its legs… At least where there was fur. Its front legs were birdlike and covered in thick reddish-brown scales, ending in long claws that could pierce through them with tiniest amount of pressure. It began to drool, as it watched them.

Luz took another step away, tightening her grip on Amity’s hand. Its tail, the same color as its legs, flicked, as it focused on Luz. It tilted its head, before she could see its nose twitch. Its mouth was wide. Luz noticed just how wide that was, as it dragged its split tongue the entire way across its mouth. A couple teeth stuck out towards end of it. It opened its mouth to adjust its huge fangs in the bottom of it over its upper lip. It was bone thin, even some of its spine was visible.

It felt like she watched the starved creature for hours, but at most a few seconds had passed.

Amity yelled her command to the abomination in a panic, “Abomination attack!” She tightened her grip on Luz’s hand, before she began running away from the creature dragging Luz after her. “Run, Luz!”

It took Luz a second, before she managed to get her legs to work, but when she did, she immediately outran Amity, dragging her behind her instead. The lion growled. Luz could hear splatting noises behind them, before it gave chase.

Its footfalls were loud, and felt like thunder in Luz’s panicked ears. Her adrenaline was in top gear, as she made the decision to run in between the trees. Amity had managed to match Luz’s speed. Luz wasn’t sure she wouldn’t get lost, but getting lost would be nowhere as bad as eaten.

She realized she would have to let go of Amity’s hand, if they wanted to escape. It was slowing both of them down to hold onto each other. “This way!” Luz yelled, after letting go off Amity, and changing directions sharply. Amity followed just behind her.

The lion barely took notice of the sharp turn it had to make.

It was catching up to Amity already, and before another second passed Luz heard the girl scream.

“LUZ!” The thundering footfalls stopped, and Luz skidded to a halt. She spun around to see Amity pinned under the beast’s claws, as it dragged her farther away from Luz.

Luz let out a scream of her own. No words could express the horror she felt as she watched the lion drag Amity away from her. She couldn’t even scream her name.

A burst of anger exploded in her.

She immediately broke out of her horrified trance, running towards the lion with a handful of light glyphs. It was not going to eat Amity.

She activated them two feet from the lion’s face, while it watched her in confusion. It let go of Amity, and Luz help her up to her feet again. “Come on! We can still get away!” Amity dizzily stumbled on her legs panting for breath, before she managed to stand up straight, still trying to catch her breath. Luz began dragging her away from the lion, and tried to get Amity to run. “Come on, Amity!” Amity finally got her legs working, but she was nowhere near as quick as before. “Please, I can’t leave you behind!” Her eyes stung, as she pulled on Amity even harder, trying desperately to get her to go faster.

The lion grumbled and snarled behind them; Luz knew they didn’t have long, before it would be chasing after them again. She knew that it was hopeless, but she would never be able to live with herself, if she didn’t try her hardest to save Amity. “Amity, please!” She hadn’t felt so desperate to save someone for a long time. She felt the tears stinging in her eyes finally fall.

Amity gave up completely. “Luz, you have to leave me behind. I promise I’ll figure out a way to get out of here alive, but if you’re caught I can’t.” Luz wanted to protest, but Amity continued before she got a word in. “Please, just save yourself.” The beast was ready to chase them again. Amity looked at the lion, casting a fire spell. “Get away, Luz!” She held the flame close Luz’s arm. “I’ll burn you, if you don’t run right now!”

Luz involuntarily took a step back. She tried to grab Amity, but she moved the flame to where Luz was trying to grab her. “Amity!” She couldn’t believe what the girl was doing. Was she trying to get herself killed? But Luz didn’t get a long time to think about it, before Amity tried to set her on fire again.

She backed away, watching the panicked look in Amity’s eyes. The lion watched what they were doing, carefully, before it hesitantly stalked towards them. “Luz, just go!” shouted Amity, before the lion sprinted towards them and grabbed Amity by the legs. It quickly began dragging Amity away again.

Luz stared in disbelief, feeling her skin itch after Amity had tried to set her on fire. She had hit her with the flame. The lion watched Luz with a scowl, before it flipped Amity over on her back, sniffing her hungrily. Luz ran towards the lion, but as soon as she did; it grabbed Amity in its mouth, running towards Luz, leaping over her.

Luz only registered happened, after the lion was running away from her. She sprinted after it, as soon as she realized what it just did. “AMITY!” She screamed after it and her friend.

It stopped to look back at Luz for a moment; it had already nearly put a two-hundred feet distance between them. Luz could still see Amity struggling in the beast’s jaw. At least the beast hadn’t killed her by biting her into her, when it landed on the ground.

The lion dropped her on the ground, letting her get up on her feet, before it grabbed her again, shoving her straight into its mouth.

Luz’s heart skipped a beat in pure shock. This was happening. Amity was getting eating in front of her eyes. She couldn’t move a muscle, as her body was frozen in horror. Any moment Amity would be chewed to a bloody mess, or ripped apart by the massive teeth and claws the beast had.

The lion tilted its head back, before more of Amity disappeared into its giant mouth.

It took Luz a second to realize what it was doing, but when she did, she could do nothing but stare in horror. She backed away, her brain still processing what it meant. Amity was being swallowed alive by the lion… The lion was swallowing Amity alive… Luz’s gaze fell on the beast stomach.

Luz couldn’t breathe. She couldn’t breathe, and she was suddenly aware of how out of breath she was. She collapsed into the forest floor, watching as the lion jerked its head forward and Amity disappeared from the outside world. Luz squeezed her eyes shut in pain, letting her tears run down her cheeks. She began crying, sobbing in between the burning breaths she was taking. She couldn’t move an inch, even if she wanted to. Everything hurt. Her legs, her heart, her lungs, and her arms; they all hurt, and she was completely exhausted.

She looked up at the lion seeing the last of a bump on the its throat move farther into its body, before it licked its lips, its split tongue dragging across its whiskers. It barely took a couple more seconds, before a slight bump protruded at the low end of its ribcage. She squeezed her eyes shut once more, knowing that that bump on the malnourished creature’s body was Amity.

She could hear the creature step closer to her, but she couldn’t find the energy to fight for her life. The only thing she could feel was the dread as the creature moved closer. Her efforts in trying to save Amity had been in vain and now she couldn’t even live for Amity’s sake… She should have run the moment Amity told her to.

The lion slowly strolled over to her with a content joy in its orange eyes. It licked Luz’s face a couple times, before it grabbed Luz by the back of her hoodie, not trying to eat her just yet. It walked deeper into the forest, with the defeated girl limply hanging from the creature’s jaw.

Luz felt exhausted, but unable to sleep, as the beast carried her to its den. Amity was undoubtably dead in its belly now; there was no way she could breathe in there. It put Luz down next to some bones that were splintered beyond recognition.

Luz watched the lion, as it began cleaning itself. It dragged its snakelike tongue through its matted fur, but it barely made any progress in brushing out the knots. Yet it still continued washing its fur. Luz wondered if it knew how much it hurt her by eating Amity, as it groomed the fur on its chest.

It gave up after a couple minutes of this, and walked over to a big pile of pine needles, before lying down in it and yawning. It rolled over on its side, exposing its slight too round belly.

Despite feeling like crying again; Luz realized that if the lion went to sleep that could be her chance to escape. She could still make Amity’s death count for something. She was going to make it out alive for Amity. She had to get back and tell people what had happened.

It only took a minute for it to fall asleep. It looked like it was in the middle of the best sleep it had ever gotten, as its face relaxed into a “smile”. It almost made Luz want to kick it awake. It had killed Amity… It deserved it. But she had to stay calm and leave the cave it slept in without getting noticed.

She carefully got up on her legs, not making a single noise, as she took the first couple steps towards the exit. The lion didn’t react, other than a particularly deep sigh. Luz faced the lion, as she took another hesitant step toward the exit. The lion still didn’t wake up, but Luz wasn’t relaxing until she was out of that cave.

It went on like that, the lion peacefully sleeping, and Luz backing away, before Luz finally stood under the trees again. Her legs were aching from her adrenaline fueled run earlier, but she was convinced she could make it far enough that she wouldn’t get caught again.

She kept backing away, until she unwittingly backed into a tree. She slammed her head into it in surprise, but she managed to keep herself from crying out in pain. She finally decided to turn her back on the lion and the cave.

She couldn’t run, and she had no idea where she was. The fact that she had lost Amity to a hungry beast definitely didn’t help either. She wanted to wake up, but this wasn’t a dream; she knew it wasn’t. The burns on her arm were too real, and so was the pain in her heart from the loss of her friend. And her exhaustion. Nothing about this was a nightmare; everything was too real.

Luz shivered, feeling the cold night air on her bare arms. When she was with Amity, she knew that they could just snuggle up together, if they were really cold and lost, but now… Amity wasn’t there, and she would never be ever again. The thought itself weighed her down to the point of near collapsing, but she wasn’t far enough away from the lion’s den.

The only thoughts that kept her going was Amity’s last wish, and the thought of Eda and King waiting for her to come home. She would come home to them again. She had to.

She felt her legs shake under her, but she knew she could make it somewhere. Maybe she wouldn’t make it to the Owl House, but she could make it to town. Or another nearby building. She hoped she wasn’t wandering straight into another beast’s territory, or further into the forest.

She continued walking in the same direction, despite everything that hurt. She didn’t want to think about what happened to her friend. Instead, her mind felt hollow, as she barely had the energy to move on foot in front of the other.

It continued like that for minutes, and every step felt like it took all the energy out of her. She no longer thought of Amity’s last wish as her driving force; that would mean she had to think of Amity. She focused completely on getting home to Eda and King. Thinking of Amity took too much energy out of her.

Minutes turned to over an hour and she still had no clue where she was. Everything felt real and fake at the same time, but she had given up any hope of waking up from this living nightmare.

She eventually realized that she couldn’t move a step farther and slumped down against a nearby tree. She didn’t want to sleep, but after everything that had happened; her body knocked her out on its own.

She woke up to the snarling and growling from the lion, as it was barely a foot from her face. She screamed, slamming her head into the tree in her panic to get away. She tried to stand up, but the lion held her back with a single foot. It only took a moment to lick at her, before it opened its mouth.

Her eyes widened, and she immediately kicked against the creature’s leg. But it barely took any notice of her struggling, as it shoved her into its mouth. It lifted her up off the ground. It continued to lap at her as she felt it starting to feel it walking.

She swung her leg into the creature’s jaw, but it barely took notice of it. She felt powerless, as it threw its head back and sent her flying into its throat. She tried to squirm in its throat, but nothing could help her anymore. The lion was quick to swallow again, sending her farther into its body.

She tried to push herself back into its mouth by writhing backwards, but its throat kept shoving her down. She hadn’t even entirely realized what was happening yet; her mind was still half asleep, despite the panic.

Her legs were the only thing left of her in the lion’s mouth was her legs, but it barely took it a second to swallow them down too. It still didn’t click in her mind what was happening to her, the only thing that registered was how scolding hot it was to her cold body.

The smell of the lion’s gut nearly made her want to puke, as her head was quickly squeezed into the belly of the lion. But she knew something was off, as her head bumped into something that wasn’t the slime flesh it should have been.

Despite the heat of the creature’s body; she felt a chill running through her body, making everything hair stand on end, as she screamed. That could only be the remains of Amity’s body.

But to Luz’s shock; the thing moved, before it screamed too.

She stopped screaming immediately, and the last of her body was forced down into the creature’s stomach. Was that Amity? How could she possibly still be alive in there? There was no way it was her! But that scream sounded so familiar. She reached into her pocket, but the water damaged paper tore apart between her fingers.

The stomach lit up in a light purple shine, as Amity casted a spell. Luz felt weird, as small pang of something that felt like an electric shock went through her entire body.

Luz stared where she had seen Amity’s face just a second before. “Amity? How are you still alive in here?” Luz hadn’t believed her eyes in those few seconds she had seen Amity. But she was there; she felt it, as the small space forced Luz to lie on top of Amity.

Amity cast a light spell, her eyes wide in panic. The girl ignored Luz’s question “How did you get caught? I thought you got away from it! It’s been hours!”

Luz didn’t know how to respond. She took a breath, trying to ignore the foul smells. “I thought you died and I couldn’t bring myself to move!” She had a hard time processing what the hell was going on. “I’m sorry… If I had run; I could have gotten help.”

“That doesn’t explain why it’s been hours!” Amity looked past Luz. “The thing slept for two hours!” She held out two fingers, as she seemed more annoyed than scared. “And as soon as it woke up it growled and chased you down!”

The beast growled above them; it was probably annoyed by the fact that its belly was being so noisy.

Luz explained what had happened to her, before shifting back to the fact that Amity was still alive. “But I still don’t get how you’re alive…” It obviously wasn’t that she was upset with that fact, but she didn’t understand why Amity wouldn’t have told her she would be fine.

Amity shifted uncomfortably. “I’m sorry that I didn’t explain anything to you… I know a spell, but I didn’t want to give you false hope in case the beast ripped me apart.” She took a moment to look at Luz, before she looked away again. “I figured with its wide mouth; it would probably swallow its prey whole.” Amity looked back at Luz, who was a little baffled that Amity had put that much thought into it. “It’s standard procedure.”

Luz nodded, “so, what’s the plan now?” She hoped that Amity did have a plan. Or at least knew of something they could do.

Amity summoned her scroll. “Don’t laugh, but I had to message my brother and my sister over Penstagram.” She looked over the messages. “Hold on, Ed has seen it!” Amity stared expectantly at the magic device, but nothing was happening just yet. She looked up at Luz. “Do you think he believes me? Should I have included a picture?”

Luz couldn’t help being a bit amused at the thought of taking a picture inside a lion’s stomach. “I don’t think that’s necessary.” She suppressed a snicker, before continuing. “But if you think it’s going to help, sure, anything to get out of here sooner.”

Amity gave a quick nod, snapping a picture. “Do you have any idea where exactly its cave is?”

Luz thought about it. She was carried quite a while… They had run into the forest and then taken a turn… So they had been following the path. Problem was she had no idea if it were to the north, west, east or south of the path. “It’s to the left of the path from where we walked into the forest.”

“That’s in the northern part of the forest…” Amity wrote a quick message to follow the picture. “Do you remember any landmarks?” She looked at Luz expectantly, but she couldn’t remember anything other than feeling sorry for herself.

“The cave is pretty big…” She felt embarrassed. “I didn’t see anything else eye-catching.”

She gave another nod. “So the beast lives in a cave at the northern part of the forest…” She sent the message to her brother. “That could be enough for them to figure out where we are…”

Luz didn’t like the sound of that. “Could be? What are we going to do if they don’t find us?” She knew that Amity couldn’t keep them alive forever. “You do have a back-up plan, right?”

“I think the lion will throw us up eventually…” Amity looked up where the lion’s head was. “It’s hopefully going to realize we aren’t digesting properly…” she trailed off, looking ashamed. “I really don’t have any plans after that; there’s not a lot I can do…”

They both fell quiet after that. Luz had to think about what had happened. She and Amity had been out walking, before the beast attack them. She had thought Amity died. She realized how thankful she was that the girl was sitting right in front of her and alive. She threw her arms around Amity, squeezing her tightly. “I thought you were dead!” Luz felt tears build up in her eyes again, but this time it was out of pure relief. They could still make it out alive. Both of them.

Amity’s arms hovered hesitantly to Luz side, before she wrapped them around her. “This is really not a hug moment…” Luz heard her mumble.

Luz didn’t care, as she squeezed her tighter. “I never want to feel like that again…” She had been completely convinced her friend died. “Te quiero…” She whispered to Amity, as her heart ached with the thought of ever losing her again.

Amity sensed that Luz had said something important. Luz knew that when Amity’s hug started feeling even more awkward. “What did you just say?”

The words slid of her tongue easier than they should have. “I love you.” It wasn’t completely a confession; it was more so a statement. She loved Amity. She wasn’t trying to get anything romantic out of it. “I never want to lose you ever again.” It was her heart that commanded her to speak. It helped ease the pain to get the words out.

Amity was quiet; she didn’t even breathe for a few seconds, before she shook her head. “You definitely didn’t confess inside a beast stomach… What does te quiero actually mean?” Amity’s pronunciation was impressively on point from hearing the word once.

Luz thought about it… “I’m not confessing.” Her thoughts hit the brakes. “Wait, hold on.” Luz had a realization hit her that exact moment, before she wiped her tears away. She did love Amity… She wanted to hold Amity’s hand… Sometimes she had wanted to give Amity a kiss, but quickly had shoved the thought away again. “I wasn’t trying to confess,” she corrected, realizing now what she meant and had felt for a long time.

Amity stared at her, mouth agape in disbelief. She closed her mouth, before opening it a couple seconds later to speak. “You seriously confessed to me inside the stomach of a beast��” Amity slammed her fist into the creature’s stomach wall. “Couldn’t you have waited until we were out of here?”

The lion grumbled at the hit; at most it was mildly annoyed.

Luz wasn’t really sure what to think of Amity’s reaction. “Do you not like me back? I’m sorry!” It would be super uncomfortable to be pressed up against someone you didn’t even like, after they confessed.

Amity stared at her, slowly blinking in confusion. “You think I don’t like you back?”They didn’t get any further with their discussion, as there was a noise from Amity’s scroll. Luz had forgotten Amity still had it out.

“Edric has contacted someone!”

After Amity had replied, the two argued back and forth on multiple things. Why Luz decided that that was the best moment to confess and why she hadn’t picked up on anything on Amity’s part.

They argued for the most part, but after a while they fell into a gentler discussion. It was still odd to talk in the lion’s stomach, but they didn’t have anything else to do to waste time.

Eventually they heard the lion roar in anger, and people yelling commands to each other.

Luz had been worried about them needing to cut the lion open, but Amity had told her they more than likely would have a vomit inducer. She didn’t want to be covered in blood; she couldn’t care less about what they did to the lion.

It didn’t long, before they felt the lion fall to the ground.

They heard the lion roar and growl in protest, before it began retching.

Luz had thought being swallowed by a lion was bad enough, but this was unarguably worse; the only thing that made it better was that this was a way out of the creature’s gut.

Luz and Amity were both puked up in a matter of seconds. Both got up to scramble away as quickly as possible.

They both got up on their feet, staring at the beast.

The people who had saved them, however, were fixated on Amity Blight. With emphasis on Blight. “You know we don’t do this job for free, right?”

They both snapped their heads towards the person speaking. Amity was quick to reply. “I don’t have any snails on me.”

Luz felt a bit defensive of Amity. “Yeah, and how many snails do you think she could keep in her pockets?” Luz gestured to Amity, “I’m pretty sure her dress doesn’t even have pockets!” She lowered her arms again, deciding to crack a joke. “And besides; what are you going to do if we don’t pay you? Shove us back in?”

Nobody laughed. “We just might, if you keep being a little brat!”

Luz raised her hands, and took a step back. “Hey! I just meant that Amity can’t pay right now!” She realized it sounded like she meant they were trying to sneak their way out of paying. She didn’t understand why they would have to be paid, but she wasn’t going to argue. “And I was making a joke…” She was disappointed that Amity hadn’t laughed.

The person glared at her. “Well, ha ha, very funny,” he said, giving them another judging glance. “But we fully expect to be paid handsomely for rescuing a child of the Blight family… And whoever you are supposed to be.”

Luz felt a bit uncomfortable, even as Amity took the word again. “If you want to get paid; you need to get my parents.” Amity shuffled nervously. “If we pay extra, can you help us get home?”

The people looked around at each other. “You’re sure your parents will pay that much for a brat like you and her friend? This isn’t going to be cheap, little Blight.”

Luz could tell that hit a weak point on Amity, but she quickly shook it off. “My parents will pay to have me back home.” Her voice was confident, but she clearly wasn’t. “And you’re not getting anything if we get lost out in the forest.”

“Alright, you win,” said the leader of the group, “come on, let’s help them get home.”

They stood outside the gate to the Blight manor. “You know, your house is really fancy.”

Amity didn’t take much notice of her remark, as she seemed lost in thought. She turned to the rescuers. “I’ll go get my parents, and then you’ll get your money.”

Luz didn’t want to be alone with the people. “Can I go with you?”

Amity flinched, before she spoke, “sure.”

They walked up to the door of the house together. Luz pulled her hoodie over her head. She didn’t think Amity’s parents would be particularly happy to see their daughter with a human.

Amity’s parents opened the door, before they even got up there. “Amity!” yelled her father. “What were you thinking?” But his voice calmed as he noticed Luz. “Who is your friend?”

Amity was quick to respond, “it’s just someone from school. She got eaten with me, because we had something that needed settling.” Luz didn’t like how quickly Amity came up with the lie. That wasn’t a good sign. “But I got to know her a little bit and she lives a long way away from here, so I was wondering if she could stay over? Or at least borrow the shower?”

Her mother gave her a skeptical look. “What were you two settling out in the forest?”

Amity barely hesitated, as she lied again. “She challenged me to a witches duel, and I had to show her who was the better witch.” Amity thought for a few seconds, probably trying to find holes in her story. “But she is actually really nice. Can you let her stay?”

Her father gave Luz a cold glare. “What’s your name?”

Luz looked over at Amity. She decided it was better to lie. “Light!” she replied a bit too loudly. “My name is Light.” Maybe using the translation of her name was a little boring and risky, but she was only pretending to be this Light for one night. They both eyed her suspiciously. “Sorry, it’s just… you’re a really important family, and I got into a fight with your daughter…” Luz laughed anxiously. “I’m really nervous.”

The two adults looked at each other. Her mother spoke up. “You can use the guest shower, while we figure something out.” He stopped, before turning to Amity. “You take a shower too.”

Amity stood still for a bit and so did Luz. “Actually… The people who saved us need to talk to you… They expect to be paid a lot for saving me.”

They nodded coldly, and eerily in sync. “You two get inside. When you’re done showering; throw the clothes out.”

Luz and Amity nodded and rushed inside.

She borrowed some of Amity’s clothes, before getting shown which bathroom to use.“You should take this too.” Amity handed her one of her school cowls. “Just say that you don’t like to show the back of your head. Say you got an extra eye you’re insecure about, if they ask.”

Luz was still confused at Amity having such an easy time lying. Nothing about Amity told her “liar”. If anything, it was the opposite. She was not at all prone to cheating. She tried to tell on her siblings, and she was a top student. So something had to be going on for her to be a good liar. “Thank you,” was all Luz said. Amity definitely wasn’t ready to talk about her past or parents with Luz.

She was pretty sure she had never felt better after a shower than she did at that moment. Clean and insanely soft clothes on her body felt great. The only downside was that she had to wear the cowl up. But it didn’t bother her much.

Amity’s parents called on her a few minutes after she had gotten done showering.

Luz waited for them to speak, having a feeling they wouldn’t take kindly to her taking the word.

Amity sat farther away from her, also waiting for her parents to speak.

Finally, they did. “How far away do you live?”

Luz looked away from them. “On the other side of town…”

“Then you can stay for the night,” replied Amity’s mother. She turned to Amity, with an unreadable expression. “We’re going to have a talk tomorrow.”

Amity nodded nervously, her eyes flicking between Luz and her mother. “Do I need to get the spare room ready?”

Her mother’s response was short and simple. “Of course.”

Amity quickly got everything set up, refusing Luz’s offer to help. It wasn’t proper manners to have a guest fix up their own room, according to her.

Initially that upset Luz, but after a while she could only focus on the fact that she would have an actual bed to sleep on. And on top of that; it looked to be very high quality everything. At least higher quality than her sleeping mat.

Amity stood and watched for a few seconds after getting everything done. “So… Why did you call yourself Light?”

Luz shrugged. “My name means light, not much other reason than that.” She sat down in the bed, watching Amity tiredly. “Can I just go to bed now?” She tried to suppress, but it easily escaped her.

Amity yawned too. “Yeah, it’s fine.” She turned around just before she left. “Goodnight, Luz.”

“Goodnight, Amity,” said Luz, before climbing into bed, and even if she had something to change into; she wouldn’t have bothered.

***

That’s the end! I got bored... Sorry. I mostly wrote this just to be angsty, but then it shifted a bit and I just wanted to finish it. Yes, Eda and King are worried out of their minds, but Luz will get home... Eventually.

Also could have been really angsty and wrote “Luz opened her eyes, realizing that everything had been too good to be true. She was still under the tree she where had fallen asleep, and she had to face Amity was gone.” But that’s not actual ending; what’s above the *** is the true ending. I just like edgy stuff, but not actual fatal.

Te quiero are the right words here btw.  Te amo is a lot more meaningful and Amity and Luz aren’t that close yet. It’s mostly for long established partners and sometimes nearest family members.

[cocopineo]

Seraphina

Seraphina is the creative and sharp-witted daughter of Jinx and Casper Jerome Lee but is the adoptive daughter of Starfire and Nightwing. She used to be a resident of Jump City but moved to Townsville due to her parents wanting a change of pace with her haywire powers and other questionable matters. She is recruited in the Vanguard League Supernatural Department as the teams strategist planing their missions and and how to succeed.

Basic Info

Name: Seraphina Grayson

Age: 16 or 17

Gender: Female

Sexuality: Straight

Birthday: August 12 (Leo)

Race/Nationality: African American/Indian

Height: 5’8 (With Boots) 5’6 (Without)

Alignment: Vanguard League

Rank: Supernatural Department and Strategist

Background

*Trigger Warning: Abandonment*

Seraphina was born just for the purposes of being a killing machine and to help her father rise in power. After Casper had become corrupt with his science and being kicked out of the Hero Corporation he needed a way to get back and destroy hero’s. That’s where he thought of having a child but with someone with powers of course he was only human after all and lucky for him a woman had just came his way. Jinx had just had a major fallout with Flash and was in dire need of comfort. After he had kicked her out of his apartment and Casper had happened to find her sulking with all her stuff sitting on the curb. To his excitement he knew exactly who she was he was a hero fanboy after all and knew every detail there was to know. So after a couple of dates and drinks the two had hit it off well and were now expecting a little bundle of joy. Little did Jinx know that all the pampering that Casper constantly did was all experiments and that their child was not so safe. Once Seraphina was born Casper demanded that Jinx leave and he admitted to her his whole plan to create a new generation of hero’s far more superior to the one’s now. Jinx was enraged and tried to fight but her powers had been drained and she was taken out of their home but she was determined to get her daughter back. Four months had passed and Seraphina’s powers were already developing with every wire and needle attached and poked at her. Casper’s work was succeeding until he had a break in and found his child gone, Jinx had taken her and ran straight to Townsville. Still with the baby in her arms Jinx took one good look at her only seeing every mistake written she didn’t have the guts to care for her or end her life. Jinx walked around Townsville looking for a place or someone to take the child but she gave up a place Seraphina near an old dumpster in an alley. While on night patrol Nightwing had heard the wails of a baby and he searched for the source until he found the baby crying a storm until a fire hydrant exploded due to her. Taken back by the little one he scooped her up and took her to his home, there he showed his lovely wife Starfire the little girl and she quickly fell in love. However, Nightwing wanted to find her mother first, in a couple of weeks he was able to track down Jinx in Townsville they had a small conversation and Jinx pleaded to Nightwing to take care of her child if she were with her nothing would be safe. So Nightwing obliged and adopted Seraphina.

A couple of years had past and Seraphina was now a child but a child with haywire powers. These powers would just happen at random and sometimes they would even end school early (Cayenne didn’t mind) or authorities would have to close certain places due to her. To make matters worse she didn’t want exactly look normal from the gray patches of skin and pink eyes she was seen as a abomination to some kids she even earned the nickname “Cowphina” from her unattractive appearance. Yet Seraphina made up for that by being one of the smartest kids always acing each pop quiz or exam to getting A++ on her papers. As time went on she was trained by Starfire to contain her powers, it only helped a little but she also trains with Nightwing in combat. Outside of training she spent most of her time with Danielle working on different tech or solving a scientific theory and the occasional sleepovers. She is very talented in Scientific Technology for instance she has created power booster or stabilizers and she is skilled with Alchemy. She’ll use

Now a teen she was asked to be recruited for the Vanguard League by Kingsley to help improve her powers not to mention they could use another big brain. She was skeptical at first and wasn’t that confident in her untamed powers but took the offer as a way to show that she’s a lot more than an “unhinged” witch or something like that.

Personality

Seraphina has a hardworking and sharp-witted personality. She’s caring and will be willing to help anyone in need and go out of her way to help. Aside from being an ol teddy bear Seraphina is smart and is at the top of her class she gets the job done wether it be due in 3 months she’ll do it in a week. However she works herself to the bone which can drain her badly especially when she’s with the League she is too stubborn to let her team down and not to mention she is a perfectionist and can sometimes really damage herself. On top of that Seraphina is majorly insecure from her mother abandoning her to being called an abomination from old bullies. When in battle she’s alert and tactical calling out a position or warning for her teammate and elaborates on her opponents, surroundings and more. Also Seraphina has two left feet she could easily trip on thin air or cause something to explode by accidentally knocking down one of substances into a potion she was making. To top it all off the girl can be naive at times not really comprehending a dirty joke or pick up line until it’s 3 hours later she smart but too innocent.

Relationships

Family

Seraphina has a healthy relationship with her family (adoptive) they really do care for her and they’re open. They did tell her about her biological family which she is still bothered by but she’s thankful for them. She has more a stronger bond with her mother because she has dealt with some things Seraphina has went through, her father and her have a strong bond as well but slightly less since he does sometimes stress Seraphina just stay inside rather than go out and cause an accident with her powers. That’s a huge thing that bothers her she wants him to see her powers as normal not chaotic and of course she adores her little sister Mar’i aside from her sometimes zooming around the house leaving it in chaos and Seraphina having to speed threw the halls to catch her chaotic sister.

Danielle

Danielle is like a sister to Seraphina they knew each other since childhood since there parents still hung out. They solved and schemed together until they got in trouble of course that was the best part. Danielle did mention to Seraphina to join the league and put in a recommendation for her not to mention she really wanted her to meet Kaydence. If anything were to happen to either of them the other would b in great sorrow they just are grateful to have each other.

Vivian

You’d be surprised that these two are actually friends with their blatantly different personalities but they actually work well together. Vivian considers Seraphina one of her closests friends also Seraphina is the one to drag her out of a fight she knows she’ll get her butt kicked. Vivian really does care for Seraphina and wishes she was more confident in herself.

Dai Tai

Now Dai Tai is her ride or Dai (sorry had to) Dai Tai really brings out more confidence in Seraphina she pushes her to do more than just wallow. Also Dai Tai just loves Seraphina’s pureness and will body slam you if you hurt her and both are really open with each other. You can find them hanging out almost 24/7 outside of the League Dai Tai is basically the peanut butter to her jelly and work well together friend and League wise.

Xiang

Now this story runs deep on how these two actually became friends. Now Casper works with Pandabubba and Xiang has known of Seraphina for awhile but has never met her. Until he takes on a task from his father to track down hi friends kid, there he tracks Seraphina down and plans on simply getting to know her tell Casper of her whereabouts, but he starts to know her better and realizes her father is a legit threat to her. Even though Xiang works for the enemy he still has humility and does not expose Seraphina he honestly feels sorry for her and the bs she’s went through. Now when Xiang does come back to town with his father and works with the YBA, Seraphina is shocked to her core but she doesn’t really hold a grudge against him she likes to see the good in everyone. Not to mention she has a big fat crush on him he makes her easily flustered one tiny wink could send her causing cars to crash.

Xiang, Danielle and Kaydence belongs to @princesscallyie

Dai Tai belongs to @laylaylamode

Vivian belongs to ppgzmlpfimllover

Casper Jerome Lee belongs to me

Nightwing,Starfire and Mar’i Grayson belong to DC Comics

[callboxkat]

Infinitesimal (part 17)

Author’s note: Happy Monday! 

Warnings: food mention, fear

Word count: 1437

Look for the masterpost in the notes!

...

Logan and Roman had apparently decided that the three of them were all going to eat lunch together in the same room again. They brought in chairs, like before, from the kitchen, and placed them near the table Patton was seated on.

Roman placed two items on the table in front of him. Patton scooted forward once both humans had sat down, pulling both objects towards himself. One was the bottlecap containing his lunch, which he was eager to dig into, but he took a second to inspect the new item first: a fork. It was pale blue, slightly wide for Patton’s hand; but with a little shaving of the handle and some sharpening of the tines, it would be perfect. It would things much easier even before he got the chance to make those modifications. Why would the humans give him this? He looked up, searching for an answer, but all the human did was gesture at his food as if to say, “go ahead”.

The three of them started to eat. Patton had never had a food quite like this one. It had rice and carrots and peas, all of which he had had before, but there were also some little cubes of a weird spongey thing that he didn’t recognize.

“This is called tofu,” Roman supplied after a moment, holding up a larger version of one of the cubes speared on his fork. Patton wondered, not for the first time, if he was really that easy to read. Maybe Roman just assumed that Patton didn’t know anything.

“Oh,” he heard himself say, barely audible even to his own sharp ears.

They ate in silence for a while longer before Roman spoke again.

“So, Pat,” he began, setting his bowl down in his lap. “Did you think about what I asked? About your outfit?”

Patton squirmed a little under the human’s gaze. It didn’t help as Logan glanced curiously between the two of them. He tugged at the fabric of his pantleg, but he quickly stopped when it threatened to unravel in his fingers. He really would have liked something new to wear, something clean and warm, but the thought of what the process of getting a new outfit might entail mildly terrified him. He couldn’t figure out why the human even cared about his clothes. Maybe it was like when Marissa had first given him the doll dress to make his current outfit from: she had wanted him to match the rest of her dolls, in mostly pink. Maybe these humans simply didn’t like this outfit.

“I could give you the materials,” Roman offered. “And you could make it yourself. If you’re feeling up to it, I mean.”

Patton bit his lip in indecision. He wanted to say yes. He really would like some new clothes. He just wasn’t sure what the humans’ motive was. But shouldn’t he just take advantage of the opportunity?

Logan spoke up now. “I can assure you that you have no need to worry. Should the option of crafting your own clothes be most acceptable to you, all we would do is provide the supplies. We could place them on the table for your use and the leave the room while you worked, but we could stay close enough to hear you if you needed something.”

Patton opened his mouth and shut it again. “O-okay,” he mumbled at last.

Logan was apparently satisfied with that response, as he simply went back to eating. Roman gave him what was probably meant to be a reassuring look, but Patton couldn’t help but notice how unhappy the human looked as he, too, resumed his meal.

Patton let out a long breath, relieved to no longer have their attention focused on him. He speared a bit of tofu on his fork. He didn’t know why Roman would be sad that Patton agreed to his idea. But then again, there were many things he didn’t understand about either of them.

…

After several minutes, Roman still hadn’t eaten much of his food. It hurt, honestly, that Patton was still afraid that they were going to do him harm. The little mouse-man’s body language made that clear. He knew he shouldn’t take it personally, but he couldn’t help it. Roman had been trying so hard to help him feel safe, and yet it sometimes felt like he was making no progress.

“I’m going to go get my fabric and things,” he announced softly. “For you to use.”

Roman got up without waiting for a response. He brought his bowl out into the kitchen and left next to the sink, then walked through the kitchen and down the hall to his bedroom. He knelt at the side of his bed and pulled out a cardboard box that was stored there. He scooped that up and brought it over to his desk.

He lifted up the lid and pawed through its contents. After a few moments, he paused, frowning in confusion.

Roman could have sworn that there had been more fabric in this box than there was now. It wasn’t a huge difference—just a handful of pieces; but some patterned buttons he liked, a small patch of lace, and a length of red string should all have been in here. It seemed like there might be more missing, as well, but Roman was unsure. The other absence of the other items that were missing—assuming any other items were, in fact, missing—didn’t immediately jump out at him. As for the ones that he was sure should have been in the box, Roman had no idea where they had gone. Maybe they had fallen out, or had gotten moved somewhere else? Roman wasn’t sure where else they could be, although it was true that it had been some time since he looked through this particular box. It was perfectly plausible that he had misremembered what was originally in it.

He looked through the supplies once more, then at the sides of the box itself. One of its seams had somehow popped out slightly, almost like it had been pulled or pushed. Roman would have thought that perhaps something had fallen on the box and popped it out, but the lid was untouched. He supposed it didn’t matter; it wasn’t an expensive box, and the hole wasn’t big. Still, Roman double checked the floor between the box’s place under his bed and the desk, to see if maybe the supplies had fallen out of the hole when he moved the box. No such luck.

Roman wasn’t disheartened. There should still be plenty here for the mouse-man to work with, including the miniature pair of fabric scissors that had come with a little sewing kit he had. They would still be comically large, but far more usable than a normally sized pair would be for someone like Patton.

‘Someone like Patton’. As he picked out items that Patton might want from the box, Roman shook his head in bewilderment. He didn’t even know what that meant. Neither he nor Logan knew what Patton was, and they probably never would. Granted, Roman didn’t care about the science-y, ‘evolution and biology of the mouse-man’-type stuff like Logan would, but he was plenty interested in the ‘how-the-heck-does-this-tiny-dude-exist’ side of things. He was curious. Of course he was.

Despite his burning curiosity, Roman didn’t mind if he never got an answer to his own questions. Or rather, he supposed he did, but he knew that taking care of the mouse-man was far more important. It wouldn’t be worth scaring Patton to satiate his curiosity. Roman wasn’t heartless. He had only known Patton for a few days—and he still barely knew him—but he already cared about him a great deal.

With a small pile of fabric, thread, and the tiniest needle and fabric scissors he owned, Roman returned to the living room.

…

Patton stared with wide eyes as the human, from his perspective, dumped a small mountain of fabric on the table. The gigantic hand left two more items at the mound’s side: a sewing needle and some scissors.

“You can have whatever you want from here,” Roman said, drawing Patton’s gaze back up to him. “And if you need anything else, just let me know. Okay?” He smiled uncertainly; but he didn’t seem to expect a response, as he went and sat back down without waiting for one.

Patton stared at the pile of fabric for a long moment.

“It’s not going anywhere,” Roman assured gently. Patton slowly looked away again, ducked his head, and went back to eating.

...

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[sassylavellen]

Retribution: Chapter 6

Story: Dragon Age Retribution

A short(?) story by Sam Shenberger

Words: 3,523

The dawn broke slowly on a cold morning. Amanda rode up to the steps outside the Circle tower. A small group of Templars on horses were already gathered near the front gates, with Markus at their front. He looked up as Amanda approached.

“So you’re really going to come with us, are you?” he asked.

“I am, Uncle Markus.” She replied.

“What of your husband, your children?”

Amanda took a deep breath before continuing. “Bartholomew is taking them to his mother’s while I’m gone. They will be fine.”

“Your place is with your family, girl…” Markus began, but Amanda cut him off.

“My place is here.” She said firmly. “Alyssa is my family too.”

Markus nodded. “Very well. We will set out soon. Grab what supplies you need.”

Amanda hopped off her horse and led it over to where there was a cache of supplies. As she was packing her supplies on her horse’s back, another Templar came up to her. “I see we’re getting the royal procession with us.” He said in a raspy voice.

“I’m going, yes.” Said Amanda curtly. She knew this Templar well, though she wished she didn’t. His name was Aldrich, and he could be a nasty, vile man. The stories of Templars abusing mages seemed credible when he was involved. He carried himself with an air of superiority, and his stubbly face was often curled in a sneer. Amanda had always done her best not to associate with him, and to keep Alyssa away from him.

“I know your sister was one of thems that was taken.” He said. Amanda’s jaw tightened. She was going to have to put up with him this whole journey?

“Yes” she replied shortly.

He snorted. “Well don’t worry, we’re going to find those bastards and make them pay.”

At that moment, Markus came over to them. “Amanda,” he said. “There’s something I wish to try.” Amanda turned and saw Markus carrying a tool in his hands. The tool was small, but it had a sort of vial on one end and a sharp, needle-like protrusion on the other. She knew this tool, but didn’t know what he was doing with it.

“What’s that, Uncle?” she asked, curious.

“You know what this is?” he asked, holding the tool up.

“Of course. It’s used to create phylacteries for every mage.” She said.

“Correct.” He said. “Your sister’s phylactery was stolen when she was kidnapped. We have no way of tracking her. However, there may be something we can do. Since phylacteries are made with the blood of mages, perhaps we can use the blood of a relative mixed with some strong lyrium to create method of tracking where they’ve taken her.”

“Will that work?” Amanda asked, confused.

“It won’t get us her precise location, but it may point us in the right direction.” He said.

Amanda nodded. This method was weird to her, but she didn’t know how these things worked. If it helped find Alyssa, then she was willing to try it. “I assume you want me to use my blood.” She said.

“I was to use my own blood,” Markus began. “But since you are coming with us, your blood will be stronger than mine.”

Amanda nodded. Without another word, she rolled up her sleeve and held out her arm. Markus took the tool and inserted the needle’s point into a vein in the crook of her upper arm. She winced as it entered through her skin and watched as the tiny vial slowly filled up with red blood. “So this is what the mages go through…” she said tensely.

Markus removed the vial from the tool and held it up to the pale sunrise. He held out his hand and another Templar gave him a small pouch of Lyrium dust. Amanda watched as Markus carefully poured some of the powder into the vial, then encased it in a holding device. He held the device out like a compass. All the Templars fell silent as they watched the newly made phylactery. Slowly, the vial turned in its casing, pointing towards Amanda. Markus’s face fell. “It was worth the try…” he began, but then the vial began turning again, away from Amanda… pointing to the west.

Amanda stepped forward, surprised. “Is it working?” she asked.

“I believe so.” Said Markus. “Men! Prepare to move out.” _______________________________________________

The sun came in through the windows of the cabin. Evelyn had barely slept a wink. She had spent most of the night trying to patch Alyssa up. The wound in her side was very deep, and it had possibly become infected. Alyssa had passed out not long after Evelyn had found her, and only had the strength to croak out that she didn’t want anyone to find her. Evelyn was no healer, but she did her best. She had used a fair amount of alcohol to sterilize the wound, and ended up drinking the rest herself. Now there was nothing but an empty bottle and a splitting headache to go with her regrets.

Slowly, Evelyn stood up and trudged over to her kitchen. She opened a cabinet, pulled out a small loaf of bread and without bothering to cut it, took a huge bite out of it. She caught a glimpse of her reflection in a nearby mirror. She stared at it for several long seconds. Her eyelids were heavy, and there were very pronounced dark circles under her eyes. Her hair was tangled and sticking out in weird ways, no doubt from her night on the couch. “I certainly look just like I feel,” she mumbled to herself with her mouth still full. She put one hand in her pocket, and then became aware of something in it. Confused, she pulled it out. It was the envelope Moira had given her the day before, the one that supposedly contained her father’s last words. Evelyn looked at it for several minutes, her mind racing groggily. Should she open it? She didn’t want to. She needed to know what he said. She wanted to throw it in the fire. What could her father possible say that would make up for the years of abuse she had endured? Nothing could be said. It wasn’t worth it.

After a moment, she heard Alyssa stirring in the room behind her. With a sigh, she tucked the envelope into a nearby drawer and turned back into the sitting room. Alyssa was indeed awake. She was attempting to stand up from her chair, but fell back down into a sitting position with a groan of pain.

“Easy, there.” Said Evelyn. “You had one hell of a night.”

Alyssa said nothing, but felt her side where her injury was.

“I’m not much of a healer,” Evelyn continued. “But I did my best. You’ll live.”

Alyssa nodded. After an awkward silence, Evelyn cleared her throat again as she sat down across from her.

“I’m Evelyn, by the way.” She said. “You’re welcome.”

Alyssa nodded again.

“Look, I don’t know what’s going on but I do know what happened at the Ostwick Circle. The family is going to want to know you’re safe-”

“No.” said Alyssa firmly.

“Oh, you can speak.” Chuckled Evelyn.

“They can’t know I’m here, I shouldn’t have even come here… If anything happens…”

“You’re worried about the Templars?” Evelyn asked “Your sister is already gone looking for you, I don’t think you need to worry about…”

Alyssa shook her head. “I’m not talking about the Templars.” She looked around, as if afraid to keep talking. “I’m talking about… them.”

“Who’s ‘them’? ‘Them’ could be anyone.” Observed Evelyn.

“The ones who attacked the Circle, the ones who killed a dozen mages and half a dozen Templars, they stole our phylacteries and kidnapped me and three other mages!” Said Alyssa with a shudder. “They wore black robes, black as night, but with a symbol of a red hand on their shoulder.”

Evelyn sat up straighter and leaned in. “Black robes and red hands? Was the hand making this gesture?” She held up four fingers.

Alyssa nodded. Evelyn swallowed hard.

“Shit,” whispered Evelyn under her breath.

“You know of them?” asked Alyssa.

“We’ve met. There was a band of them fleeing north through the forest. They attacked a Dalish clan.”

“Attacking a Dalish clan? Why would they do that?” asked Alyssa, brow furrowed.

Evelyn stood up.

“No idea.” Said Evelyn. “Listen, I get you don’t want Mum and Dad to know you’re here. Fair enough. But Holli and Stephen need to know about this.”

“No! No one can know! It’s not safe!” Alyssa cried, sitting up. “They still have my phylactery, they can find me! I can’t let them find me or my family!”

“Then why did you come here?” snapped Evelyn, losing her patience.

Alyssa sat back down. “I was wounded. I had nowhere to go… I wasn’t thinking straight.” There was a moment of silence before she spoke again. “Why do you say Stephen and Holli need to know?”

“Because they were there too.” _________________________________________

The dawning sunlight crept in through the windows of Holli’s bedroom. Holli looked at herself in the mirror while an elven handmaiden helped tie her into a corset. Another handmaiden came up to her with a pallet of make-up, while a third stood ready with an elaborate yellow dress.

“Must we do this all again?” yawned Holli sleepily.

“Yes, My Lady.” Said the second elf as she started applying a deep road blush to Holli’s cheeks.

“It’s too early for this shit.” Grumbled Holli.

The handmaidens giggled. “But My Lady!” said the first, “You always look so beautiful.”

“Thanks, Deirdre.” She sighed. She continued to stare at her reflection as she slowly began to look less and less like herself the more the make-up was applied.

About ten minutes later, Holli made her way down to the study. The room was empty apart from a chair next to the window, a half painted canvas on a stand, and a short pudgy man wearing a ridiculous mascaraed mask. The man bounced up and down as Holli entered.

“Ah! Zere you are, mademoiselle!” he cried in an Orlesian accent.

Holli forced a smile. “Good morning, Pierre.” She said.

“You are not a moment too soon!” said Pierre as he lead Holli over to the chair. As soon as she was seated he leapt back over to the canvas and picked up his paint and brushes. “Now zat you’re ‘ere, please assume your position!” he said joyously.

Holli arched her back slightly and folded her hands in her lap. She yawned widely.

“Madame, please! No yawning!” cried Pierre.

Holli shook her head hard. “Sorry. Long night.”

Pierre closed his eyes, looking like he was putting himself into a trance.  After an awkwardly long couple seconds, he opened his eyes again, almost about to put brush to canvas. At that moment the door burst open and Evelyn came in, trailing a flustered servant behind her. “Miss! You can’t go in there!” shouted the servant.

“Funny. I think I just did.” Said Evelyn dismissively.

Holli stood up. “Evie? What…?”

“Larmes de Dieu!” cried Pierre. “Zis is an outrage! You ‘ave caused me to lose my focus!”

“Yeah well, funny thing about focus, it always comes back.” Quipped Evelyn. She ignored the servant and the painter and turned to address Holli. “Holli, we need to talk.”

“What, now?” asked Holli.

“Now.” Said Evelyn.

Holli nodded then addressed the servant. “It’s fine. Leave us.”

The servant bowed and left. Pierre remained, muttering curses in Orlesian under his breath. “You too, Mask Man.” Said Evelyn.

“Mask Man?!” cried Pierre indignantly. “Avez-vous une idée de qui je suis, couteau-oreille? We will lose ze light! How can I-?”

Evelyn came up to him. She was quite a bit taller than him and practically blocked the light from the window, throwing him in shadow. The man took a step back and Evelyn reached into a pouch on her belt.

“Now see here, zere’s no need for…” he began, but Evelyn pulled out a handful of gold coins.

“The sun comes up every day. What’s one day without?” she asked.

The man said nothing, but after a moment he did take the money. “So it does.” He said begrudgingly. With a huff, he left.

Now alone, Evelyn turned to Holli. “Evie, what’s going on?” asked Holli, concerned.

“Remember those black robed cultists yesterday?” asked Evelyn.

“Of course.” Said Holli, confused.

Evelyn took a deep breath. “We need to find Stephen. Things just got a whole lot more complicated.” _______________________________________

It had been years since Alyssa had been in this cottage. She sat there in her chair as memories began flooding back to her. How old had she been when she was last in here? She couldn’t have been older than 20. That was when she found out she had magic. Most mages discover their abilities at a much younger age. She remembered coming here on that day. She was hiding from her family, not strong enough to break this horrifying discovery to them. Now that she was thinking about it, the memory became stronger. She had sat on the couch across the room and cried for what had felt like hours. Eventually Amanda had found her. She had to confess it to her. By that time, Amanda had just become avowed as a Templar. It wasn’t a pleasant conversation.

Tears were starting to fall from her eyes again and she wiped them away quickly. She heard the door to the kitchen open and sat up. She hadn’t seen Holli or Stephen in at least a year. What would they say?

Evelyn led Holli and Stephen through the kitchen door. Stephen started walking towards the sitting room, but Evelyn stopped him. “What is all of this?” he inquired.

“Before you swarm her, just be aware that’s she’s hurting. A lot.” Said Evelyn.

“What does that mean?” asked Holli.

Evelyn stood aside, allowing Stephen and Holli to enter the sitting room. As soon as they did, they both froze. The silence was uncomfortable as they both stared in shock at their eldest sibling.

Alyssa broke the silence. “Sister, brother...” she coughed.

Holli sped forward and threw herself down on her knees by Alyssa’s chair.

“Alyssa!” she cried. “Are you okay? What are you doing here? We’ve been worried sick!”

“Is that… your blood?” asked Stephen carefully.

“Yes.” Answered Alyssa.

Evelyn cleared her throat. “You three have a lot to catch up on, I’m going to make breakfast because I am starving. Have fun.” She backed out of the door back into the kitchen.

Stephen turned back to his sisters. Holli was crying, her make-up running off down her face. “Are you… are you injured?” he asked.

“I got stabbed in the stomach when I was captured. But I escaped.” She replied.

“What do you mean escaped? What happened?” asked Holli.

“The men in the Black Robes attacked the Circle. There was no warning; no one was prepared. One moment, I was sitting in my chambers studying and the next thin I knew there was a loud explosion. One of the walls of the dormitories had been blown down with a mighty force, yet there was no battering ram, no tree that a storm might have knocked into us. It had to be magic. Then the men started swarming in. They killed several Templars and a few of the mages who fought back. I attempted to fight, but they got me…” She lifted up her robes to show them her wound. It was mostly cleaned up, but her skin was still red from the blood. Evelyn had stitched the wound back together.

“Maker’s breath!” whispered Holli under her breath. “What happened then?”

“I went down. A lot of what happened next is a blur… I must have been slipping in and out of consciousness. But there were many of them. So many men in black robes… We never stood a chance. I woke up a few hours later. They had taken me and three other mages. Two of them I didn’t know but one of them was a friend of mine, an elf named Varahel. He told me that they also broke into the vaults and destroyed most of the phylacteries, but they took ours.” Alyssa continued. “We don’t know why they did it, or what they planned to do with us. Perhaps they wished to hold us for ransom, but then why take our phylacteries? Why destroy the others?”

“Perhaps they were trying to cover their tracks with the phylacteries. Trying to make it appear as though the mages were rebelling.” Conjectured Stephen.

“Maybe. But there were so many witnesses they left behind.” Replied Alyssa.

Holli nodded. “She’s right. We all knew it was an attack.”

“How did you escape?” asked Stephen.

“The group split off. Some of the cultists left north, while the smaller group took us west. There was a gap in our guard’s patterns and we took advantage of it. One of the mages was killed. He couldn’t have been any older than 16…” Alyssa choked up a tiny bit. “Varahel tried to draw them away so that I could get away. I don’t know what happened to him or the other mage.”

“And they still have your phylactery?” asked Stephen.

“Yes” nodded Alyssa.

“So… that means they can track you.” He continued.

Alyssa nodded again. “I know I can’t stay here but I had nowhere else.”

Stephen began pacing. “The group that went north must have been the group we ran into.”

Holli had fallen silent through all this. Finally, she spoke up. “Don’t worry. We will keep you safe.”

“How?” asked Alyssa.

Evelyn reentered the room, carrying a tray of breakfast sandwiches.

“I’m probably not as good as your kitchen staff but it’s better than nothing.” She said as she placed the tray on the table. “How are we doing?”

Holli stood up. “We’re going after them.” She said firmly.

It took a second for this to settle in for everyone. Evelyn was the first to break the silence. “You’re what now?”

“We’re going after those bastards who hurt my sister. We’re going to bring them to justice.” She said.

“Holli,” Stephen said, stepping forward.

“Stephen, don’t.” Said Holli. “I know what you’re going to say, but no. I will not let this offense on our name stand.”

“Offense on your name…?” asked Evelyn. “Look, Holli, I get you’re upset but you realize this isn’t something you can just do on your own.”

“That’s why I said ‘we’. We’re all going.” She said.

“Holli, are you sure…” Stephen began, “What’s brought this on?”

“This is what I have been training for! I can do this!” she said.

“You’ve trained for a year.” Reminded Evelyn.

Holli looked around to each of them in the room. Finally she addressed Evelyn. “I’m not the only one with a personal stake in this! They attacked your clan too!”

“You think I care about my clan?” snorted Evelyn.

Holli shook her head. “Then what about… What was her name…? Your sister?”

“Moira.” Said Stephen. Evelyn gave him a look, confused why he remembered and why he would blurt it out so quickly.

“They attacked your family too, Evelyn. Doesn’t that mean anything to you? Doesn’t that fill you with the rage I feel?” pleaded Holli as she stepped towards her.

“It does.” Said Evelyn seriously. “I know the rage you’re feeling. I know it like an old friend. You know what else I know? I know what it’s like to feel this rage and have no control over it. You start to make bad decisions; decisions that will hurt you in the long run.”

“Then help me to learn!” said Holli.

Evelyn fell silent. Holli turned back to the room, defeated.

Stephen cleared his throat. “We don’t even know who these cultists are. Where would we even start looking?”

“I might have an idea about that…” said Evelyn quietly. Everyone turned to look at her again. Evelyn reached into her pocket and pulled out a scrap of cloth. Stephen recognized it immediately.

“That’s the symbol from the cultist’s robes…” he said.

“I ripped it off during the fight.” She said. “I may know someone with ties to the criminal underworld who can tell me who they are. It’s a long shot but it’s something.”

Holli smiled. “Then we have a lead!” she said.

“We maybe have a lead.” Evelyn corrected. “If it pans out, then yes.”

Holli held out her hand. “Then we’re going to do this?” she asked with a hopeful tone.

Stephen stepped forward and put his hand out on top of hers. Evelyn rolled her eyes and threw her hand in too. “What the hell, sure.” She said. The three of them looked down at their locked hands, then a fourth hand came in and was placed on top of Evelyn’s. Alyssa had finally managed to stand and had thrown her hand in as well.

“Count me in as well.” she said. “I wish to make them pay.”

“Then let us begin.” Said Holli with a smile.

Previous Chapter / Next Chapter

[thedistantstorm]

First Aid

Steelponcho + Actual First Aid + Zavala is afraid of needles + Suraya is best unofficial medic + Part 1 of maybe 2 or 3 or 7? I have a lot of ideas, ok?

For the prompt: “I don’t know why I bother patching you up when it takes you all of five minutes to get hurt again.” from @bump-of-whump

-----+++++-----

It starts with him bleeding on her freaking table, on her scouting reports. FOTC worked hard on those, and it isn't like she has copies lying around. Suraya wonders if he notices, until she sees him wince.

“Would you like some help with that?”

Zavala looks at her, startled and just a touch apologetic. “I'm fine.”

She raises an eyebrow and steps around him so she's on his right. The blood has saturated his clothes, pooling in the crook of his elbow, to the point where it's dripping from the tip of the joint below.

“I'm sure you are, tough guy. Surely that's what triage told you, too.”

“Triage?”

“Y'know,” She says, talking slowly as he studies the reports, reaching for the strap of his pauldron - of course, it's the huge one, “The place where the injured go to have a professional evaluate their injuries.”

“This,” He uses his left arm to motion to his right as he allows the clearly damaged limb drop so that it's straight and not dripping blood on her reports, “Is hardly an injury.”

“Maybe not,” She concedes, bracing his large shoulder guard with nimble, unnoticed fingers, “But it will be if you continue to let it fester under that heavy armor.” As she says the words, the last buckle falls away and he hisses when she pulls the the red, white, and silver piece of gear from his arm and drops it to the table with a clatter.

“Hawthorne!” He bites out, meaning to admonish but it comes out a bit more strangled and surprised.

She hushes him, looking at the stain on his arm. “This is an old wound, isn't it?” And, suddenly, without asking, she's pulling away the fabric from his skin and slashing it with a small, sharp knife pulled seemingly from nowhere. It burns.

He attempts to step away from her, but she's managed to put one of her legs between his. If he moves, she's primed for a takedown. Not that he couldn't take her, but certainly someone will hear and come running, especially since the animals in the stable have already fidgeted nervously at his sharp tones.

“How long have you been here again?” She asks, almost idly, as she peels away the fabric from his arm.

The Commander tenses, looks down at his arm. That's going to require serious patching. The fabric is mottled copper and black. It smells of methane and grime. He has not stopped since he arrived...

“Four days,” He answers, sound barely passing his lips.

She frowns. “You didn't have anyone look at this on Titan, did you?”

“There were more… pressing matters,” Namely setting up a command center overrun by the Hive, and losing more than half their forces to the worm-worshiping bastards.

“I'm sure.” She doesn't sound like she's placating him, either. “You need to get this cleaned up,” She finally says, after an uncomfortable few moments looking at his skin. His responding harrumph is an expected protest. “It looks infected.”

“The Hive is an infection,” He replies tersely.

Her tongue peeks out from behind her lips as she pushes on it, and he bites his lip to keep from hissing aloud again.

“I'll make you a deal,” She tells him, stepping back and withdrawing her hand from his arm. “I won't make a fuss about sending you to Triage for patching,” He looks at her like she's crazy if she thinks he's going, “If you let me look at it instead. I kind of think you need stitches.”

The lights that dance under his skin bleed away, making him look exceptionally pale. He shakes his head. “That will not be-”

She squeezes his arm, right above the ugly injury. He clamps his mouth shut, jaws all but grinding together to prevent the startled howl that tries to escape.

She smiles a smile so saccharine it makes him feel nauseous.

“Fine.”

Hawthorne hands him back his ridiculously sized pauldron. “Go to the Farmhouse and shower. I'll get supplies and something for you to wear while this,” She gestures to his battle-mucked undersuit, “Gets laundered.”

-/

Nearly an hour later, he sits on a bed in a room that he's never seen before in the tired farmhouse, feeling like a new Titan in the Vanguard Barracks. His arm is bleeding though he's tied some gauze around it to try and keep this new shirt clean - how the woman has managed to size him up is both concerning and impressive. The shirt and utility pants are standard issue, and hardly appropriate for wear under his armor stacked carefully in the corner between his scout and sniper rifles.

She enters the room with a gentle knock, her grubby poncho absent as well. She looks very small without it, all lean curves from the waist up. He can see her collarbones, the swell of... For some reason his cheeks feel warm.

She sets the white metal kit on the bed beside him and looks at the wound he'd cleaned gently moments before.

“Okay tough guy,” She says with a look that's strangely gentle, “Before I get to work here, how bad was it, before?”

He scrunches his brows. “What do you mean?”

She sifts through the large box of equipment. “Did your ghost heal it at all, or are we starting from scratch?”

He looks away.

“I'm sorry,” She says, turning so she's in his line of sight. “I was told to ask. I know it's a sore subject.”

“She could barely phase into me or maintain a neural link by the time we left the city. The others-”

“Got it,” She replies, hand on his good shoulder. “Say no more.” She opens a plastic container and pulls out a syringe of liquid.

He immediately tenses.

She looks down at her hand and then back. Then once more. “I’m gonna take a shot in the dark here and say you do not like needles.”

“Is it absolutely necessary?”

Suraya nods. “If your ghost is unable to completely heal you, you're open to a ton of diseases. We've been vaccinating the survivors as they come in. Lots of people in a small space is a paradise for disease.” She shrugs. “Better me doing it than some of those medics.”

“Aren't they trained professionals?” He looks exasperated.

“Well, yeah. But they'll also say things like 'okay, you're gonna feel a pinch,’ and 'almost done, you're doing so great.’” She holds the vaccine in front of him, the syringe empty. “But, I just gave it to you and you didn't notice.” She smiles. “Could be worse.”

“Aren’t you supposed to prep the site beforehand?”

She nods, but doesn’t look back at him, instead continuing to rifle through the white metal kit. Gestures to a small pad of alcohol prep on which the used syringe now lies. “I did. You were too busy asking me if this whole thing were necessary.”

He blanches again as she pulls out a sealed suture kit. “I truly do not believe this needs stitches, Hawthorne. It looks fine. Surely a bandage can hold it in place.”

“Not as well as stitches, especially since you’re not going to walk around without your armor on.” She hands him the bottle of peroxide. “You want to do it or should I?”

He grits his teeth and takes the bottle from her while she grabs a pair of gloves and opens the kit anyway. He doesn’t make a sound as he splatters a gratuitous amount of hydrogen peroxide onto the ugly wound. The slash is actually pretty deep, and it froths and burns.

Suraya sighs, and dabs at it with a clean flannel. The skin is torn, and the tissue underneath as well. It’s deep enough that she actually should look to make sure there’s nothing underneath, and she does just that, peeking under the loose skin while he grimaces. “I’m sorry,” She says. “Just don’t want anything bad to happen because I’m a shitty nurse.” She douses the wound in something else that almost makes it sting less but then it’s back to angry and burning when she rubs a different flannel across the majority of the slash.

This time, when she pierces his skin, she positions herself so that she’s standing beside where he’s sitting on the bed, her torso blocking his view. She offers his pain killers but he refuses. Stubborn Titan, she thinks, as he flinches when she makes contact with the skin begins to stitch it back together.

“You aren’t going to pass out, are you?” She asks, when he’s sweating and she’s only gotten two of the estimated twelve to sixteen stitches it’s going to take to patch him up. His arm is huge. “We’re like maybe twenty-percent done.”

He inhales and it’s a wet sound. “No.”

“Breathe, Commander,” She says, stopping to tilt her head over her shoulder and look at him. “This isn’t that scary. The needle isn’t that big.” It’s actually kind of big, and hooked too, but that’s why she’s not letting him see it.  “Want to know what is actually scary?” He doesn’t look up at her but she tells him anyway, as she arcs the needle through tough, blue skin.

“Bears.”

He inhales sharply, a laugh mixed with discomfort. “How so?”

“One, they’re huge. Two, they’re stinky.”

“Those aren’t - erhm,” She ties a knot and cuts the thread of another stitch. “How is that frightening?”

“Well, I suppose it’s not. I’m sure you probably could fight a bear and win, Light or not.” The compliment doesn’t light his ego as it might have in the past. “But I think they’re positively terrifying. Used to try to sleep in trees to avoid them when I travelled. But the little ones,” She looks over her shoulder again, he’s listening intently. “They can freaking climb. Not okay.”

Something about the tone of her voice is soothing. The pain becomes duller as she tells him a story about how one time, she managed to be followed by a brown bear cub, with their mother close behind. She had been alone in the wilds for days, and ended up breaking into some random cabin she came across trying to get them off her trail. Her saving grace had been that the cub was too short to see into the tiny port windows and eventually lost interest. And the whole thing would’ve been fine too, if there weren’t two survivors in the cabin she’d let herself into, thinking she was some wayward bandit trying to rob them. By the time she’s done telling her tale of woe, the wound is almost completely mended, and the Commander is more relaxed than she’s ever seen him. She snips down the last of the stitches, wraps him up so that he won’t inevitably pull one of them out when he puts on his armor later, and smooths his shirt back down his arm.

“Your clothes will be ready in a bit,” She says softly, de-gloving, and throwing the used supplies into a wastebasket. “If you want to crash here until they’re done, feel free. I’d rather you not rip them out wrestling Shaxx or whatever it is you Guardians do for fun.”

“Actually,” He says, deadpan, “We wrestle bears.” She throws an unused roll of gauze at his face. Which he catches, with his big, dumb hand. His eyes are practically glittering they’re so bright. She makes sure to look away, lest she continue to feel their pull. Which, when did that start happening? Wasn’t he some stoic commander? What the shanks was this?

“Ugh! I’m going to find a big needle to chase you around with,” She says back. “You are absolutely the worst!”

-----+++++-----

She more sees his face than she hears the sound of his agonized half-swallowed yelp. Hidden behind him, the Shipwright - Amanda, she tells herself - is curled up into the smallest ball in which she can make herself, and Zavala is using a very questionable pipe to thwart some Fallen scalvagers who are trying to make off with the Shipwright’s very meager workshop. How in the world they’ve managed to get into their base this far is unknown, but it’s a definitive problem.

In the seconds it’s taken her to analyze this problem, they turn toward her. It’s for the best, anyway, because she’s already got her rifle in hand, and the first one goes down easily. The second, however, manages to thump Zavala hard in the side with the butt of its weapon and knock him down before Suraya can end him.

He’s grunting as he gets to his feet, ignoring his own injuries in lieu of making sure Amanda is alright.

She is, just terrified. There isn’t a scratch on her. But the wheeze when he breathes is a new sound the blonde is used to hearing from her beloved Commander. She gasps and begins looking him over, exclaiming that he must go get checked out. The look on his face says that is the literal last thing he would like to do.

She wonders why he’s so adverse to that. Ah well, she reasons. It isn’t her problem, really.

“Amanda, go tell the FOTC guys what’s going on, have them come check the perimeter,” Hawthorne hears herself say. “I’ll get the Commander checked out.”

The Shipwright looks thankful as she runs off and Suraya sidles up to him. “So, you find yourself on the ground a lot or is this new?” He glares at her as she continues, “Seriously. I don’t know why I bother patching you up when it takes you all of five minutes to get hurt again.”

“It was several days.”

The corner of her mouth pulls up in a little smile before she can help herself. “Same thing. C’mon, let’s go get you looked at.”

“Do we have-”

Placatingly, she quips, “I’ll take you back to the Farmhouse. No need to waste Triage’s time with the worst patient, ever.” When he sighs in relief, she chuckles. “You’re a mess, you know that right?”

The real mess is the fact that the good commander decides to forego changing before he allows her to address his wounds, instead peeling off the top half of his armor and standing there, decidedly nude from the waist up. She gulps as her eyes take in what seems like miles of musculature and sinew.

“Do you strip for every woman who patches you up? Or am I just special?”

He raises his eyebrows and looks at her pointedly, as if to ask if she were really going to start this. Then flexes.

She almost - but doesn’t - ‘eep’s on the spot. Ridiculous bastard.

“To be fair, Hawthorne,” He intones cooly as she trails her fingers down his right arm to evaluate the damage, “There is no way for me to possibly allow you to look at my arm or side without devesting this much of my attire.” He cocks his head at her. “Watching you squirm is just an added bonus.”

She growls, digging her fingers in just a little too tight over his reopened wound. “You’re rather small without your armor.”

He straightens, smirks. Doesn’t make that hissing sound she’d hoped to get out of him. “Feel free to insult me to make yourself feel more in control of this situation.”

She’s shaking her head, but the laughter is bubbling up in her chest no matter what she thinks otherwise, so she plays it off with another half-smile and looks at the wound. “So, I think you’ll need at least another ten stitches.”

He jolts, and swings his arm around to evaluate it. It’s barely bleeding. He scoffs. “How so?”

The laughter brims and overflows as she snorts out, “I’m messing with you. I can just put a little bandage onto the end of it where you ripped the stitch. No needles required. It looks pretty good, actually.” Unable to resist, she adds, “You must’ve had a pretty incredible person patch you up.”

Zavala chuckles at that. “If by incredible you mean someone incredibly infuriating.”

“I’m sure you’re a real pain in her ass, too.” She sticks her tongue out, and retrieves the bandage he needs, a little butterfly one that adheres quick and easily. He watches her all the while, and when she’s done, she looks up into bemused eyes. His lips are set into a straight line, but his eyes are something else entirely, all glow and spark and smile. The patterns on his face swirl in somekind of contented hum that she almost wants to touch.

And just like that, she slams on the metaphorical brakes.

This is not the time.

And he cannot be the one.

[greenteafiend]

I didn’t know you were lonely

They’ve freed another planet, and they’re attending another celebration, when Lance notices that Keith has disappeared. When Lance finds him, something is clearly not quite right with the red paladin.

Aka: The alien beverages served at the party apparently affect Galra much more strongly than humans, and Lance discovers that Keith’s anger is a very thin veneer that conceals a deep-seated loneliness.

This is set sometime before the Galra Keith reveal during season 2.

The planets they freed sure did like to party once the Galra were gone, and if they fawned over their saviors? Well, it was no skin off Lance’s teeth.  

Planet Cancri was celebrating their independence with music, dancing, a huge buffet, and copious amounts of a delicious golden liquid the natives called ‘chispa.’ It made them smiley, giggly and uncoordinated, but Lance had drunk about a litre of the stuff to no ill affect so they all assumed it just didn’t affect humans the same way.

Even though people of Cancri weren’t his cup of tea for flirtation purposes, (they were tiny and colourful, like the Arusians, whereas Lance’s type was bodacious with long flowing hair) they were cute, and they hung on his every word as he recounted his heroic actions during battle, tittering and gasping and cheering at all the right moments.

Lance positively basked in their approbation.      

During a lull in conversation he looked across the huge tent that had been erected for the event and mentally ticked off his teammates; he liked to periodically do a headcount. It eased his mind to keep track of everyone’s whereabouts.

Hunk was standing by a table laden with food, enthusiastically exclaiming over something large and red on his plate with Pidge. It looked like he was trying to cajole her into sampling something, but she was shaking her head emphatically in refusal.  

Allura and Shiro were speaking to the leaders of the Cancri with smiles and bowed heads, and Coran was out on the dance floor doing something - interesting - with a crowd of Cancri surrounding him. There was way too much hip movement going on to be healthy.

Lance scanned the tent for a familiar mop of black hair, but Keith was nowhere to be seen.

Come to think about it, Lance hadn’t seen the grumpy bastard at all the whole night. Sure he wasn’t a social butterfly like Lance was, but he could usually be found leaning against a wall in the shadows, doing a convincing impression of a broody gargoyle.

Lance excused himself from his admirers ostensibly to get some fresh air.

Beyond the tarp there was a view of a clear blue lake, with the reflection of two moons softly caressing its surface.

Lance spotted Keith sitting cross-legged out near the lapping edge of the water.

Normally he would have been satisfied with seeing Keith. He would have ticked Keith off his mental checklist and turned on his heel to re-join his admirers, but the Red Paladin was doing something -- weird.

Keith was staring at his own hands as if they contained the answers to life’s secrets, paladin gloves discarded on the ground behind him. Lance watched as he very slowly clenched both hands into fists before relaxing them again, brows furrowed in contemplation.

And then, even stranger, he proceeded to cross his arms over his chest, gripping the opposite bicep with each hand, as if he were giving himself a hug. He looked… melancholy.

The sight was incongruous with everything he thought he knew about Keith, and Lance found himself strolling over to investigate further.

“What’re you doing you weirdo?” he demanded by way of greeting, flopping down into the reddish alien grass, facing Keith’s hunched form.

“There’s something wrong with me,” said Keith hoarsely, eyes downcast.

“Something? Singular? Because, hate to break it to you, there is definitely more than one thing wrong with you,” Lance ribbed.

He expected Keith to come back with a snappy retort immediately like he usually did, but he just unfolded his arms and went back to staring at his hands. 

Clench… relax… clench… relax.

“Ok, that’s kind of freaking me out.”

Clench… relax… clench… relax.

“Hey, cut it out.”

Keith ignored him, engrossed in whatever he saw in his palms.

“Seriously, you need to stop,” Lance reached over and physically gripped the Red Paladin’s hands to make them still.

Keith’s finger’s clenched weakly around Lance’s and he stared down at their joined hands for a beat, eyebrows pinched together in confusion.

He slowly lifted his head to look at Lance, frowning deeply.

“What colour are my hands?” he asked gravely. The sky of this planet was violet and the colour reflected in Keith’s eyes, making them appear bottomless.  

An uncomfortable, warm, feeling Lance did not want to properly identify blossomed in his chest. If he were being totally honest with himself, it wasn’t the first time the giddy feeling had manifested while he in Keith’s presence, but Lance was an expert at self-deception. Particularly when the Red Paladin was involved.

He swallowed, and watched as Keith’s violet eyes tracked the bobbing movement of his Adam’s apple.

“Pasty white, same colour they usually are,” he snapped, letting go of Keith’s hands hastily.

Looking relieved, Keith went back to hugging himself.

“I feel weird. I’m usually good at not thinking, but… but now I can’t stop thinking. I want to stop thinking,” Keith rambled.  

“Well it isn’t news to me that you usually don’t think,” snipped back Lance. This conversation was getting weird; he needed to piss Keith off so they could fall back into arguing.

That was their thing, and Lance was comfortable with it. He was not comfortable with - whatever this was.

“I want to stop thinking but I can’t,” replied Keith, not rising to the bait.

“Why? Maybe if you thought a little more often I wouldn’t hate you so much,” the words rolled out of Lance’s mouth; it was natural to him to try to press Keith’s buttons. It was satisfying to make Keith lose his cool.

“Do you really mean that?” asked Keith in a small voice, eyes shining with hurt. Lance tried not to gape in shock; he’d never seen Keith’s stoic façade falter into anything other than anger before.

It was satisfying to make Keith angry, but this? It was not satisfying. The warm feeling blooming in his chest twisted into something needle sharp. It burned like acid.

So Lance ran his mouth, desperate for Keith to stop looking so hurt. Desperate for them to get back into familiar territory.

“Yeah, I mean I know you’re supposed to be ‘Mr. Instincts�� or whatever but your habit of running headlong at everything is actually pretty dangerous-”

“No, not that. I mean, do you really hate me?” Keith cut him off. Lance sighed and scraped a hand through his hair roughly, finally accepting that Keith’s weird mood wasn’t going to allow him to make everything into an argument or a light-hearted joke.

“Jeez Keith I was messing around; I don’t really hate you. The rivalry shtick is just our thing,” he explained, gesturing expressively between them.  

Keith just stared at him, eyebrows drawn together, lower lip jutting out ever so slightly.

“Stop looking at me like that,” Lance huffed.

“Like what?” Keith tilted his head to one side. Lance felt the tips of his ears heating up. Keith had no right to – to – look so soft and sad.

Endearing, sweet… supplied Lance’s stupid brain without prompting.

Shut up! He hissed back mentally.

“Like a kicked puppy! That expression on your face is just wrong!”

Keith’s shoulders slumped even further and he curled in on himself at Lance’s harsh words.

“Sorry,” he muttered, looking impossibly small and forlorn.

“Don’t apologise! You look even sadder now! Stop it!” Lance cried, unreasonably panicked as the heat spread across the rest of his face.

“I… I can’t help it. I am sad. I’m sad…” Keith’s hands migrated from clutching at his biceps to clutching at his skull.

Watching Keith pull at his own hair in barely supressed anguish - it was as if someone had upended a bucket of icy water over Lance’s head and he suddenly had a name for the emotion coalescing in his chest - guilt.

There was clearly something not right with Keith and all he’d done was be purposefully mean and try to pick a fight. Keith was his teammate and he was hurting, Lance had a responsibility to help him. It wasn’t Keith’s fault that Lance was having some sort of existential crisis.  

“Do you want me to get Shiro?” he asked haltingly.

Keith shook his head.

“D-don’t bother Shiro. M’fine. You should leave me alone,” was his muffled reply.

“Do you want to be alone?”

Silence. Keith trembled, and Lance figured that was answer enough.

He scooted closer so they sat shoulder pressed to shoulder.

“Why are you sad?” the question was asked softly, gently. It was the same tone of voice Lance used to use to soothe upset nieces and nephews. He never would have imagined using it on Keith.

Keith let his hands fall limply into his lap and looked up at Lance with suspiciously shiny eyes.

“Can’t stop thinking,” he mumbled.  

“You’re sad because you can’t stop thinking?”

“Thinking makes me sad. That’s why I try to, you know, a-avoid it,” the hitch in his voice killed Lance. Keith was supposed to be strong and angry and invulnerable, not soft and sad and unguarded.

“Well… what are you thinking about?”

“People… I’ve never understood people”

“You’re sad because you don’t understand people?”

“Kind of.”

“Who are you and what have you done with the real Keith Kogane?” said Lance haltingly.  

“It’s that drink making me feel… funny. I can’t control my brain.”

“That drink? You mean the chispa?”

Keith nodded jerkily. Come to think about it, sitting this close, Lance could see that Keith’s face was flushed and his pupils were blown wide. His speech was stilted and slow, somehow less fluid than normal. He was acting like he was drunk, or drugged, or something.  

“How much did you drink?” asked Lance sceptically.

“The cup they gave us for the t-toast.”  

“I’ve had waaaay more a cup of the stuff and I feel fine so I can’t be that. Could you have eaten something weird?”

Keith shook his head miserably.

“Alright… well, what it is about people that you don’t understand?” Lance asked.

Keith never volunteered information about himself. They’d been floating around in the castle together for months now, and he hardly knew anything about Keith other than what he could garner from looking at him.

Sue him, he was curious to see what Keith had to say in his apparently uninhibited state.  

“How to get close to them,” replied Keith solemnly.

“You want to be close to people?” Lance couldn’t supress his disbelieving tone.

“Desperately,” Keith breathed

“You?” Lance squeaked.              

Keith choked out a bitter laugh, “Doesn’t everyone?”  

“Well, normal people do, but you-you’re-”

“I’m not right,” Keith sounded resigned.

“That isn’t what I was going to say-” that was the problem with running your mouth without thinking, Lance wasn’t actively trying to make things worse, but somehow his words came out sounding terrible.

“It’s what you mean. T-there’s something wrong with me. S’probably why none of the foster families stuck,” Keith’s words were really slurring now.

“Foster families?”

“None of them liked me. I t-tried to be likable but I didn’t know how. Not like you. Always something w-wrong with me.”

“Keith-”

“My dad knew. He knew. He must have, or-or else he-he wouldn’t have left.”

That was the moment Lance became painfully aware that he had been misjudging Keith this whole time.

“When did he leave?” the question fell out accidentally.

“When I was s-seven. H-he was always busy. I th-think I drove him away because I w-wanted his attention all the time. I tr-tried not to make the same mistake but, well, no one ever wanted to adopt me so-”    

“What do you mean same mistake twice?”

“Being too clingy. W-wanting attention. A-affection.”  

“But-but what about your mom?” Lance blurted.

“N-never met her. She… she um, abandoned m-me when I was a baby.”

Lance couldn’t help but stare at Keith gormlessly. Keith was, for all intents and purposes, an orphan. Whenever he imagined what kind of background Keith hailed from, he imagined privilege. He assumed that Keith, with his perfect grades, his perfect simulator scores, and his stupidly perfect face, must have come from a perfect family with perfects parents that doted him and were rich enough to afford the tuition at the Garrison. It certainly fit with his aloof, I’m-better-than-you persona.

All this time Keith must have been a scholarship student, just like him and Hunk.

In hindsight, this shouldn’t have come as a shock. He wanted to kick himself in the face for his own stupidity because it was so obvious; why would Keith live in a dilapidated shack in the middle of the desert if he had anywhere else to go?

The shininess of Keith’s eyes spilled over, down his cheeks, and Lance was dumbstruck. Keith drew his knees up to his chest, burying his face in his arms, breathing ragged.  

“I-I’m s-sorry. I-I shouldn’t be t-telling you th-this. You-you probably don’t want to-to h-hear this. You d-don’t care. I k-know you d-don’t like me-” Keith’s words were tripping up on his hitched breathing, and the more upset he got the more Lance felt like something was squeezing his heart painfully in a vice-like grip.

“Keith, I-”

“I-its okay! I k-know its b-because there’s something w-wrong with me. S’my fault. My fault. I-I always push people away. J-just go back to the party. I-I’m f-fine,” Keith choked back a sob, and Lance broke.

He couldn’t help himself. He put his arms around Keith’s shoulders, and tugged him into a loose embrace.

Keith melted against him, hands coming up to rest on Lance’s chest plates.

They sat like that for a while. Lance could feel faint tremors running through Keith’s body. Tears dripped down Keith’s face onto Lance’s armour.

Eventually he disentangled himself, and held Keith by the shoulders at arm length.

“Keith? I want you to listen to me,” he said seriously.

His tone seemed to pierce Keith’s cloud of misery, and he stared at Lance with huge wet eyes.

“I don’t hate you. I don’t dislike you.”

“You d-don’t?” sniffed Keith, staring at Lance incredulously.

Jesus, that made Lance feel incredibly guilty. Had he really been so mean to Keith all this time that the poor guy thought he hated him?

“I don’t,” Lance confirmed.

He let go of Keith and rose to his feet.

“I’m getting Shiro,” he declared.

He intended to march back into the tent and get help because he was way out of his depth, but then Keith was surging to his feet and scrabbling to grip his wrist.

“N-no, please Lance. D-don’t bother him. I-I’m fine-”

Keith was not at all steady. He swayed dangerously, the only thing keeping him standing seeming to be his tight grip on Lance’s wrist.  

“Keith, I want to help you. You’re clearly not okay. What do you want me to do?” implored Lance, feeling desperate.

Keith’s balance gave out and he keeled over, pulling Lance into a crouch in front of him when he refused to let go.

“Shiro I- I don’t - h-he’ll be worried; I don’t want him to - h-he’s got enough-”

“Ok, ok, I’ll leave Shiro alone,” soothed Lance hastily, because it looked like Keith was working himself up into a panic.

The tension drained from Keith’s body at Lance’s assurance, and he released his wrist.

“How about I take you back to the castle?” suggested Lance.

Keith nodded weakly.

“Do you think you can walk?”

Keith pushed himself back up to his feet, but Lance had to grab him to stop him from immediately face-planting.

“I’ll take that as a no.”

Lance manoeuvred him so he could pull one of Keith’s arms over his shoulder, keeping a tight grip on his wrist. He slid his other arm around Keith’s waist to grip his side.

They set off to where the Castle was set down in a clearing on the other side of the lake.  

It was slow going, with Lance mostly dragging him along.

“Maybe I should just carry you,” Lance muttered to himself.

“M’bigger than Pidge,” was Keith’s garbled reply.  

“I realize that smartass. Are you implying that you’re too heavy for me to carry?”

“M’gonna be sick-”

Keith wretched himself out of Lance’s grip and fell to his hands and knees to retch.

Lance knelt beside him and laid a hand on his back to rub soothing circles.  

“Just get it all out, maybe it’ll make you feel better. You obviously ate or drank something that really disagreed with you.”

Keith didn’t manage to bring up much, mostly just bile. Once he was finished, he roughly wiped his mouth with the back of his hand and collapsed back on his haunches, tears streaming down his face.

Lance took his hand off Keith’s back, and Keith let out a desperate whine.

“P-please c-can you j-just…” he trailed off as Lance hastily resumed rubbing soothing circles.

Keith practically melted into a puddle at the simple touch, the tension training out of his shoulders, the stream of tears drying up. It was as if no one had ever comforted him before and he was trying to soak up the experience to last the rest of his life.

A few minutes later Lance stopped, and this time Keith stayed silent.

“Keith, buddy, let’s get you back to the castle. Can you get on my back?” he asked cautiously.

Lance moved so that he was crouched with his back facing Keith, arms out by his sides ready to catch him.  

Keith practically fell on him, but Lance was more than able to hitch him up and bear his weight.

Keith’s arms clasped weakly around his neck, and he laid his head against Lance’s shoulder.  

The only sounds as Lance walked were his steady footfalls, and his slightly elevated breathing. He didn’t know whether it was from the exertion of carrying another person, or nervousness.

Keith’s warm breath tickled the nape of his neck.

Once he got them into the castle, up the elevator, and to the floor where their rooms were, Lance broke the silence.

“We’re nearly there, think you can walk the rest of the way?”

Keith responded by unclasping his hands and allowing himself to slid off Lance’s back.

He was still wobbly, so Lance put a supportive arm at his back as he tottered down the hall to his room.

The door swished open and Lance led Keith over to his bed, where he sat down heavily, blinking dazedly.

“We-we’re in my room,” said Keith stupidly.

“Yes Keith, we’re in your room,” said Lance patiently.

Keith sat, as docile as a sleepy kitten, while Lance knelt in front of him and started unclipping his paladin armour. He knew from experience that it was impossible to sleep in the getup comfortably, and that even fully sober and cognizant, it was a mission to get out of.

He got Keith down to his flight suit with relatively little effort.

“What do you usually sleep in?” Lance asked.

“Sleep,” said Keith, blinking slowly.

“Keith, focus. Where are your pyjamas?” said Lance, snapping his fingers in front of Keith’s face.

“M’tired. Sleep.”

Keith slumped forward so his head was resting against Lance’s chest-plate.

Well… Lance supposed that sleeping in his flight suit wasn’t the end of the world.

He reached out and pulled back the covers, before taking Keith by the shoulders and shifting him so his head was laying against his pillow.  

He lifted his feet onto the bed next, before pulling the blanket over his body.

Keith cured onto his side towards Lance in a little ball, wrapping his arms around himself again in that sad imitation of a proper hug. The sight gave Lance a pang.

“Are you l-leaving?” asked Keith.

“Do you want me to leave?”

Keith shook his head.

There was no harm is staying until he fell asleep right?

Lance sat gingerly on the edge of Keith’s bed, and hesitantly laid a hand on the crown of Keith’s head.

Keith let out a sigh.

When Lance stroked through his hair, Keith’s face fell slack and every tense line of his body seemed to relax into the bed.

Keith’s hair was a soft and thick as it looked, and Lance couldn’t help but stare as he let the inky strands slip through his fingers over and over.

Eventually Keith’s breathing evened out and deepened; he was asleep.

Lance stilled his hand, holding Keith’s bangs out of his face so he could examine the other boy properly.

He looked impossibly young and innocent like this.

Almost in a trance Lance let his hand drift out of Keith’s hair so he could cup his face.

Hearing Keith’s gentle puffs of breath, feeling the smooth softness of his skin laid over a delicate cheekbone, brought home the fact that Keith was just a flesh and blood human; he felt so fragile.

He was smaller than Lance, he had a slighter build and he was shorter, and that was easy to forget when they were wearing their paladin armour and Keith was fighting with the ferocity and wildness of a mother bear defending her cubs.

Keith always seemed… implacable. Untouchable. Too cool to need or want human interaction, too cool to be touched or held.

Lance had a sudden epiphany: the boy that he thought was his rival - the stubborn, arrogant, show off - he didn’t really exist. That Keith was a shadow, a caricature of the real Keith because Keith was a lot more than his anger and instinct, and Lance didn’t know those parts of him at all. 

None of them did, except maybe Shiro.

Looking at Keith laying curled like that, tear tracks still glistening on his cheeks, Lance felt an overwhelming surge of protectiveness.

“I’m going to try and be nicer to you,” he said quietly, giving the top of Keith’s head one last pat.

He left the room, letting the door swish shut behind him.

Even though the festive mood was officially killed for him, Lance headed back to the party.

He didn’t plan on telling the others what had happened between him and Keith, but he did need to let them know that he was okay, and that Keith had gone to bed.

[connorrenwick]

Where I Work: Zai Divecha

Zai Divecha is a Bay Area native artist based in San Francisco, California, whose creative explorations began with metal. After graduating from Yale (both undergrad and grad), the cycling enthusiast became a metalworker who just recently transitioned into working with paper. Now she’s creating small and large scale geometric works made from paper featuring repetitive pleat patterns. For this month’s Where I Work, Divecha opens the door to her shared studio space in the Dogpatch neighborhood for a look at her process.

What is your typical work style?

I’m a morning person, so I like to get my day started early. A few days a week, I get up at 5am to do a 30-mile bike ride before going into the studio. There are few things I love more than cycling. And going out at dawn — when the fog is still thick and the light is a cool, grayish blue — is the absolute best.

I usually get into the studio by 10am, and work until 7 or 8pm, taking breaks to chat with my studiomate or take Simi out for a walk. Some days end up being more computer- or admin-heavy; other days are more focused on making. Unless I’m really in the zone, my brain typically shuts off around 8pm, and I’m useless after that.

What’s your studio/work environment like?

The studio is bright, cozy, and clean. A huge skylight lets tons of light in. When we moved into this space, my studiomate and I laid the flooring ourselves, and we chose a pale gray color in order to bounce as much light as possible into the room. We mop the floors regularly to keep the dust under control. Lots of plants, candles, and furs make it feel cozy and welcoming. I’m a neat freak, so I need the surfaces around me to be clean in order to think clearly and feel creative. The less clutter I have in sight, the more focused and creative I am.

My studiomate Emi Grannis is a big part of my daily life. She’s a metalsmith who makes fine jewelry, and she’s also one of my very closest friends. Even though we each run our own separate businesses, Emi and I help each other out constantly throughout the day: she’ll take photos or videos of me working for my Instagram; I’ll help her draft tricky client emails. She’ll weigh in on my design decisions; I’ll help her triage her to-do list. We know each other’s strengths and needs, and we’re good at making the other person feel supported, focused, and happy. It’s pretty special. I don’t know where we’d be without each other.

How is your space organized/arranged?

We have a small studio space on the mezzanine level of a shared metal shop called ShopFloor. It’s located in the Dogpatch neighborhood of San Francisco, and it’s three blocks from where I live (best commute I’ve ever had). Our studio is 270 square feet, so it’s pretty compact. I have my little zone at one end of the room, Emi has her workspace in the middle, and at the back, we have a lounge area with a couch and a makeshift kitchen (mini fridge, microwave, tea kettle). The couch was a game-changer — having a soft, comfy place on which to take breaks (or naps!) means that our days can be longer, more productive, and more sustainable.

How long have you been in this space? Where did you work before that?

I’ve been working out of this building for two and a half years, but it’s only the last nine months that I’ve had this cozy studio space on the mezzanine level. Before that, I rented a bay on the ground floor, in the metal shop. I was making welded steel vessels and mosaic steel wall hangings at the time, so it afforded me easy access to the metal shop tools. But I didn’t have walls, private space, or heat, so while it was utilitarian, it was not particularly inspiring or comfortable.

But now that I’m primarily working with paper, a medium that doesn’t require any machinery at all, it’s been lovely to have a contained, quiet space away from the noise and grime of the metal shop. I have walls, heat and air conditioning, a comfy couch, and, of course, one of my best friends nearby, so I’m much happier and more productive now.

If you could change something about your workspace, what would it be?

A teeny bit more space would be nice. I routinely have to downsize my tools, prototypes, and projects in order to make space for everything.

Is there an office pet?

Yes! My dog Simi often comes with me to work. She’s a chill, low-key dog most of the time, but she’s become infamous for starting to hump her dog bed as soon as clients walk in. She can be a liability.

Do you require music in the background? If so, who are some favorites?

I tend to listen to downtempo electronic music when working. It needs to be melodic, hypnotic, and a little edgy. Nicolas Jaar, Chet Faker, Polo & Pan, Glass Animals, Zhu, and Alina Baraz come to mind. Here’s a playlist I made of my favorite songs for work. If I’m doing repetitive measuring, scoring, and folding, I’ll often put on a podcast to keep my brain engaged. The Guilty Feminist, Reply All, The Daily, and Planet Money are current favorites.

How do you record ideas?

I have all kinds of systems. I have a notebook that’s just for my daily to-do lists, I have a separate sketchbook for drawings and diagrams, and I have a series of digital notes that are synced across my devices.

Do you have an inspiration board? What’s on it right now? 

All of my inspiration boards are digital at the moment: I have dozens of Pinterest boards, and a number of Instagram collections of saved posts. Lately I’ve been saving things like 3D-printed ceramics, hand-carved wood home goods, geometric murals, blackwork tattoos, installation art, and parametric architecture.

What is your creative process and/or creative workflow like? Does it change every project or do you keep it the same?

I often start by examining prototypes and sample pleats I’ve made in the past. I hold them in my hands, and collapse and expand them. I imagine how they’d look or behave if I made changes to the pattern. What if I altered the angles or spacing of the pleats? What if I pinched it at one end, and let it fan open at the other? What if I made this out of a translucent Mylar instead of paper? What if I made a collage, where I put this pleat next to this other pleat? Then I’ll make a quick mock-up using scrap paper. I love that it’s so easy to prototype with paper. I can test out ideas quickly.

Once I have a plan, and I’ve figured out all the measurements, the execution is a series of repetitive motions: measuring out a grid, scoring lots of lines, and working with my hands to pleat the paper. I love settling into a meditative routine, and making only minor changes with each sheet of paper to optimize my efficiency and precision.

What kind of art/design/objects might you have scattered about the space?

A tiny painting of Point Reyes by Susan Hall, who’s a dear family friend. Ceramic pieces by Two Hands Full, Pinckney Clay, and ShanMan Clay Co. A half-moon shaped serving board I made out of Cocobolo wood. A concrete sculpture of hands by Rheal. Two brass Ganesh statues that my mother gave me when I was little. A sweet note that Emi left me one day. And a handful of items collected from nature: a Cholla cactus branch, an antler, and a dozen potted plants.

Are there tools and/or machinery in your space?

Now that I’m primarily working with paper, my tools have been pared down to just the most unassuming and lightweight ones: pencil, rulers, cutting mat, X-Acto knives, painter’s tape, needle and thread, and bone folder.

What tool(s) do you most enjoy using in the design process? The bone folder. It’s a bookbinding tool made out of bone that’s used to score paper. It lets me make precise, sharp folds. It feels smooth in my hand — so simple and primitive.

Let’s talk about how you’re wired. Tell us about your tech arsenal/devices.

I have an iPhone X, a MacBook Pro, and a Canon 5D Mark II with a few different lenses. I store all my notes, documents, and photos on Box, so they’re accessible from any device (I used to work at Box; old habits die hard). Instagram is my main marketing and sales tool, so I spend a fair amount of time on it.

What design software do you use, if any, and for what?

When I was doing metalworking, I used Illustrator and SketchUp to design wall hangings and prep vector files for lasercutting. Now that I’m working primarily with paper, my creative practice is blessedly analog! The less time I’m on the computer each day, the better.

Is there a favorite project/piece you’ve worked on?

I recently finished up a large hanging paper installation, and my partner Phil Reyneri added subtle light effects to it using Lightform, his company’s tool for projection-mapping. Each edge and facet was illuminated with projected light patterns.

Do you feel like you’ve “made it”? What has made you feel like you’ve become successful? At what moment/circumstances? Or what will it take to get there?

I definitely don’t feel like I’ve “made it.” I have so many things I still want to make, and so many goals I still want to hit. But I suspect I’ll always feel that way, even if I’m making a lot more money. There’s a famous cycling quote by Greg LeMond that I love: “It never gets easier, you just go faster.” I think this is true for running a business, too. I feel like I’m hustling just as much as I was three years ago, but when I compare the work I was making and the types of problems I was solving now, it’s clear that I’ve made a lot of progress.

Tell us about a current project you’re working on. What was the inspiration behind it?

I’m developing a series of smaller paper pieces with stitched red accents. The goal is to sell them framed in shadowboxes with glass fronts, so they’re ready to hang. I’m excited to offer pieces that are elegant but also accessible — at a price point that my friends could afford.

What’s on your desk right now?

I have a cutting mat, some rulers, a mug filled with pencils, pens, and X-Acto knives, a few pieces of pleated paper, my reading glasses, and my laptop. I try to keep it as bare-bones as possible.

Do you have anything in your home that you’ve designed/created?

Just a few random craft projects here and there. I have a set of ceramic fruit bowls I made in high school, and some dog beds that I sewed out of canvas drop cloth and painted (I made one for my studio and one for my home). One day, I’ll do a proper paper installation for our place!

Photos by Zai Divecha, Emi Grannis, Phil Reyneri, and Andy Wong.

via http://design-milk.com/

from WordPress https://connorrenwickblog.wordpress.com/2018/12/18/where-i-work-zai-divecha/