#any further asks that do nothing but hurl insults will be ignored

[shatar-aethelwynn]

To what "one-sided feud existing only in his mind", to what "hilarious anger", and to what "vitriol-spitting" are you referring, my dear? In our last interaction I was very polite and I tried earnestly (although in vain) to have a serious dialogue with you. But you have not appreciated my efforts for a dialogue in good faith and you attack me now with ridiculous claims. You also misrepresent grossly in your last posts my positions on a certain topic, in a way which is not particularly honest intellectually. I wonder why you act like this. Do you really need so desperately some attention and patting on your head from your friends, the great tumblr scholars? Moreover, permit me to say, my dear, that you are not in position to lecture me about proper critical use of sources and historical methodology. I say this because not only you made almost... 200 posts to defend against an obscure Arab nationalist author the historicity of the Biblical Exodus, but also because you tried to promote some months ago on this site as serious scientific paper a piece of creationist pseudoscience, which claimed that a "cosmic airburst" would have destroyed ancient "Sodom"! If I remember well, the backlash to this move of yours was so strong that even your eminent friends, who had tried to present you as authority in Biblical history, saw you eventually as liability and distanced themselves from you, despite the fact that their scholarly standards are not exactly the highest. Lol.

Reading comprehension really isn't you're strong suite is it my dear. Thank you for confirming you're stalking my blog and hate-reading though! I've also been polite, if amused, but your tone has been increasingly condescending. Expected I suppose if you are our old friend (3! years! this is so stupid!).

Let's see - 200 posts to defend against an author - hun, I was having fun with a book I came across that was still getting positive reviews that year. I didn't even finish because I got bored with how repeptitive it was. You of all people should understand the concept of hate reading. You do it so well. (Incidentally, you may want to take a break and come back in a few months, because your repetativeness is also starting to become boring. A break would solve that.)

As for Sodom, it was a legitimate question that I answered based on the information I had at the time I was tagged. After which someone (was that you too) said I was wrong and gave a source for a contradictory view, that can basically be summarized as "these people are wrong solely because they believe something in the Bible might have been true". And guess what, that was fine. Because, again, I understand the concept of nuance, and I don't claim to agree with the archeologists in question on their personal beliefs. The question was whether Sodom happened. I gave the two sites currently claimed for it. And I agreed that science could potentially prove both wrong in the future. That's how science and archaeology work. And I really don't understand why you would think my friends were distancing themselves from me on it. It was a short topic, not inside their fields, and they have lives outside this site that take their attention. Do you?

This behavior, by the way, is probably why anon asked if there was a feud. Text may be the worst format for conveying intention and tone but anyone can clearly read the condescension in yours.

You know what I find most amusing about this? Of the entire group of friends I'm actually the one most likely to need to reference Herodotus as a source ocassionally. But because I say he's not always right you assume I don't know how to use him, or that I'm not aware that Herodotean scholarship is a whole thing.

[tinyyoungblood]

hi!! do you know that tiktok trend where the girl asks her bf if he can temporarily break up with her so she can be heartbroken when she listens to olivia rodrigo’s new album and the bf always says no? could you do that but with peter and avenger!reader? i don’t really know how the avengers play into that but i trust you to think of something great. love your work babes <3

pairing: peter parker x avenger!reader

word count: 2.7k

a/n: hey fren, tysm <3 i do know that trend, and it always warms my darn heart. you probably meant for this to be a headcanon but halfway through i realised that i was writing full sentences, so i just rolled with it bc i have no self-control lol enjoy x

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

“Peter, I need you to break up with me.”

Not a moment later, you heard a series of loud crashes and Peter stumbled out of the bathroom, hopping on one leg while fiddling with his zipper. “What did you just say?” His eyes were wild as they scanned your face.

“I need you to break up with me,” you repeated calmly, not taking your eyes off your laptop.

“Break up with you?” Peter echoed, hand raking through his hair in bewilderment. “Why would I do that? Do you want to break up?”

This made you look up. Peter was staring at you like you had just insulted his face, making it quite an effort to stay serious. “It’s just for 34 minutes and 46 seconds,” you assured. “So I can listen to Olivia Rodrigo’s new album.”

He blinked at you.

“What?”

“Please?” You set your laptop aside, shuffling to the end of the bed so you were sitting right in front of him. “I want to listen to it in full effect with a broken heart and everything.”

“I…” Peter slowly shook his head. A helpless laugh escaped him. “Um, no. Thank you.” He turned and made to return to the bathroom.

“Peter,” you whined and grabbed for his hand, pulling him to a halt.

“Sorry, angel.” He shrugged, supressing the faint tug at the corner of his mouth.

“Pleeeeaase.”

“Nope.”

You pouted. “We can break up when you train with Bucky! In that way you won’t even notice because you’ll be busy and distracted. I won’t even be on your mind.” You weren’t sure what you had said that made Peter stare at you like you were insane, but it took him a second to snap out of it.

He cupped your face with his hands and made sure to meet your eyes. “Babe, I think about you all the time.” He said it like it was a wish he wanted to word correctly. Slow and precise. Then he switched to a lighter tone that implied that he was done with the conversation. “I’m not breaking up with you.” With that he turned and left for the bathroom.

“Fine,” you called back although the water was already running and you doubted that Peter could hear you. And if he did, he probably didn’t care. You took that as your cue to leave. Defeated, you plucked your headphones into your phone and picked out a song of Olivia’s album at random.

Steve was lounging on the couch of the common room when you entered. He looked up from his magazine and gave you a small smile by way of greeting. You returned it by tapping two fingers at your temple in salute, ignoring the way how his stare lingered a little longer. You sat down next to him. When you locked eyes again, you saw the silent question on his face and let out a laugh. It ended up sounding more like a delightful scoff.

“I know Tony takes pride in being the philanthropist amongst us, but for someone who grew up in the ice age, you’re really good at reading people’s faces.” You wanted to annoy Steve, maybe even coax out a laugh, but he just kept looking at you, and you held his gaze. You were good at it—an aftereffect of living with Bucky who happened to love the same yoghurt as you did. Sometimes you put all western movies to shame with the way you narrowed your eyes at each other early in the morning in front of the fridge.

To your luck, Steve was just as stubborn, which meant that you two could’ve kept it going until death if it weren’t for the door banging open.

“I can’t believe you did this to me!” A voice boomed. You took a wild guess and assumed it was Clint.

“Tell me about it!” Another voice bellowed right back.

A second later, Sam and Clint marched into the room, furious, whereas Bucky strolled in behind them with no care in the world.

The former two were holding bags of food. Both were animated and waving their arms through the air while arguing. You turned down the volume of your phone in time to hear Steve demand, “What’s going on?”

Clint and Sam stared daggers at Bucky until Steve amended, “Buck, what did you do?”

The man in question turned around, facing his best friend in exasperation. “I asked these two to get food for me.” This earned him a snarl. Bucky waved them off and examined his metal arm, unconcerned. “Honestly, I have no idea why they’re getting so worked up about it.”

“We—” Sam gestured wildly between Clint and himself. “—were asked to pick up food for him from two different places. And neither of us knew about it!”

“Yes, neither of us knew,” Clint chimed in, eyes narrowing at Bucky who was busy flicking dust off his arm. “And I don’t know about you, Sam, but I was touched. I was moved, okay? Because Bucky never asks for anything and here I was, thinking we’re starting to bond or whatever but now I just feel USED.”

Sam gave a harsh sound in agreement.

“Bucky,” said Steve after no one had anything to add. “What do you have to say to that?”

Your gaze flitted between them, not sure what to expect. Bucky didn’t give any sign of wanting to respond, making you wonder if he had heard Cap at all. But then a slow smile swept over his lips and you noted that it was probably the most feline smile you’d ever seen. It was a smile storybook villains wore after burning down the world.

“The only thing I have to say is that I regret not having the moment they ran into each other in the elevator on video tape, because that—” He turned and looked Sam and Clint straight in the eye. “—was amazing.”

No one spoke.

“Ruthless,” you said under your breath and just like marionettes, the four men glanced you before another argument broke.

You took the chance to turn the volume back up. “happier” was playing and you settled further into the couch to watch the scene unfold. Sam was arguing so passionately that the vein on his neck was making an impressive appearance. Clint, on the other hand, had a palm pressed flat to his chest; his face showing pure betrayal. Bucky didn’t seem to care for the chaos. He tried multiple times to grab for the bags only for one of them to move out of his reach. When you glanced at Steve, you nearly lost it.

He was staring at them like his lifespan had just been reduced to ten years. He looked like he wanted to throw pebbles after them.

Nudging him with your arm, you silently handed him one of your earphones. He glanced at you and hesitated, probably thinking of the many times you had offered him a taste of blaring electronic music. You rolled your eyes and insisted again. This time, Steve took it and you watched in amusement as his brows rose in surprise.

“I like the piano,” he mouthed and glimpsed at the name of the song. You grinned.

In the meantime, Clint and Sam had decided to form an alliance. They had planted themselves in the opposite couch, digging into the contents of the brown bags while Bucky gawked at them from the other side of the room with his mouth ajar and heart ripped out of his chest. Shaking his head in disbelief, he let himself fall into the armchair facing them. He looked devastated. You weren’t sure if you had to stifle a laugh or tears.

Next to you, Steve chocked back a laugh. You quirked an eyebrow and considered him only to realise the reason behind his glee. Bucky was brooding in his seat while Sam and Clint did an excellence job on commenting every bite. Nothing has ever received as much praise as that pasta, and you were certain that if this were a cartoon, there would be rain clouds hovering above Bucky’s head. As if the angels had set it up themselves, you took notice of the lyrics.

I hope you're happy, but not like how you were with me

I'm selfish, I know, I can't let you go

So find someone great but don't find no one better

Bucky was pouting, poking the leather of his armchair with his finger while stealing glances at Sam and Clint. It was perfect. Steve slapped a hand on his chest and he tipped his head back, laughing.

I hope you're happy, I wish you all the best, really

Say you love her, baby, just not like you loved me

And think of me fondly when your hands are on her

I hope you're happy, but don't be happier

You were both laughing hysterically. The others had stopped their on-going war to stare at the two of you; their expressions baffled. The song came to an end and Steve gave back your earphone, rubbing his eye as if wiping away a tear. He rose and walked over to Bucky, hurling him to his feet and putting an arm around his shoulders.

“Oh, Buck,” Steve said with a note of laughter in his voice. “There’s a song I need to show you.” You smiled as you watched them leave.

“Well, this was fun.” You pushed yourself off the couch and shook your head as Sam offered you some of his sushi. “Thanks, but I’m on a mission to get heartbroken.”

Leaving the men to their food, you wandered the halls and listened to “traitor” as you walked past Wanda’s room. Her door was open and you could see that Vision was in the middle of a chess game with Bruce and Wanda. By the looks of it, Vision was as good as winning and you reined the urge to cheer for him. You peaked around the door frame and saw that Vision had their king in check. Deep betrayal crossed Wanda’s face.

You chuckled quietly and whispered, “FRIDAY, play what I’m listening to right now through the speakers in Wanda’s room.” FRIDAY didn’t bother to respond but not a second later, the lyrics were blasting through her room and their heads snapped up in confusion.

Don't you dare forget about the way

You betrayed me

'Cause I know that you'll never feel sorry

For the way I hurt, yeah

“Wanda?“ You heard Vision’s careful voice. “What is going on?”

Guess you didn't cheat

But you're still

You're still a traitor

“I’m not sure, but these lyrics aren’t wrong…You are a traitor.” Wanda narrowed her eyes at him, slowly bobbing her head to the music. Treason danced in her eyes. It was the beginning of a villain origin story.

“Maybe it’s a sign of God,” Bruce said and you almost burst out laughing.

God, I wish that you had thought this through

Before I went and fell in love with you

“Hell yeah!” Wanda yelled and this time you bolted down the hallway, wheezing. You dashed right into Tony’s lab and slammed the door.

“What are you on?” He looked up in amusement. You simply shook your head, laughter still bubbling over your lips.

“Just spreading love in this facility.” You waved your hand at nothing in particular and Tony nodded.

“Right, I heard you asked Peter to break up with you to listen to that one album? Very dramatic. I like it.”

“See.” You gestured at him, indicating that he was the only one who got it. “It’s a good album. Maybe you should ask Pepper to divorce you.”

Tony gave a humourless laugh. “Yeah, I don’t think she would come back if I asked her.”

“Yikes,” you mumbled and this time Tony’s laughed for real.

“So what? You’ve just been walking around waiting for heartbreak?” He turned back to whatever he was working on. You stepped closer to get a peek.

“Precisely.”

“Sounds tiring.”

“I’m powered by exhaustion” You handed him the wrench he needed. “Want a listen? I think there’s a song you might like.”

He contemplated the offer and lifted his shoulder in a half-shrug. “Sure, why not.” You couldn’t help but squeal. You knew that Tony probably didn’t care but sharing your music was always exciting.

Beaming, you removed your headphones and connected your phone to the speakers of Tony’s lab. The first tunes of “good 4 u” started playing and Tony tapped his foot to the beat, head bobbing just slightly. When the chorus hit, he stood up and you stepped back, thinking he wanted to headbang. Instead, he reached for a tool that was further away. You didn’t miss the way he moved his shoulders in a little dance move though.

“I like this one,” he said, and you flashed him a smile. You continued working on the suit, handing Tony things you knew he needed until you passed him a plier and he froze. You furrowed your brows, glanced at the tool you knew was the right one, and cocked your head in silent question.

Maybe I'm too emotional

Or maybe you never cared at all

Looking you straight in the eyes, he flung the plier over his shoulder, opened a drawer, and took out another plier to use on his suit. You gasped.

“How dare you,” you whispered in shock. Tony had the nerve to shrug.

“Enjoy your little heartbreak moment, Y/N.” He shooed you away like a cat. “FRIDAY, yank up the volume, would you.”

Well, good for you, you look happy and healthy

Not me, if you ever cared to ask

Good for you, you're doin' great out there without me

“Guys?” Peter’s voice was drowned out by the booming music. He was leaning against the doorframe, watching in amusement as you and Tony towered on the lab tables, using screwdrivers as provisional microphones. While Tony played a terrific air guitar, you sank dramatically to your knees and impressed the crowd with your air drumming skills.

“Guys?” Peter tried again, chuckling. This time you and Tony whipped around at the same time and pointed straight at Peter.

Like a damn sociopath

You threw your arms up in the air and spun in circles while Tony jumped into quite an impressive split leap.

I've lost my mind

I've spent the night cryin' on the floor in my bathroom

Just over the fact that I really don't get it

But I guess good for you

The song came to an end, and you leapt on Tony’s table to share a screwdriver with him as you sang the last lyrics together.

Well, good for you, I guess you moved on really easily

The song ended and all you could hear was heavy breathing. Peter began to clap. “This was great, you guys. Wow.”

You exchanged glances with Tony before making a show of bowing at the waist.

“So this is what happens when I refuse to break up with you?” Peter strolled over to where you sat on the lab table, positioning himself between your legs. Tony chuckled and jumped off to grab a water bottle from across the room.

“I’m gonna need you to elaborate on that,” you said, just for the devil of it.

Peter smiled. “Cap and Bucky are crying over a song, Vision is sending Wanda flowers in ten-minute intervals, and you are down here having a rock concert with Tony.”

You gave him a toothy grin. “I was just feeling sour.”

* * *

stay hydrated pals

[tacticaldiary]

You Dated My Partner?

Pairing: Reader x Dazai Osamu

Genre: Fluff, Humour

Masterlist

REQUEST: 

Hello, can you please write headcanons (or scenarios, whichever's easy for you) of Osamu finding out his girlfriend used to date Kunikida 👀 Thank you! <3 Hope you're having a great day.

“You what!?” Dazai exclaims a little too loudly, his voice echoing through the whole office. 

“It was just for a few months, 4 years ago.” Y/N shrug, leaning back on the agency’s couch. “Besides, I’m with you now, aren’t I?”

Dazai takes a second to process the new information he’s just learned, looking between Y/N and Kunikida.

Kunikida, who is currently sitting at his desk shuffling through a few documents, nods in agreement, though his cheeks are flushed a little pink with embarrassment, which Dazai picks up. 

“You used to date my partner! That’s not nothing, Y/N!” He whines, throwing an arm around her shoulder and burying his face into her neck.

She jumps a little tries to push him off, but he doesn’t budge. Y/N sighs and throws Kunikida a look. The man in question rolls his eyes and speaks.

“It was nothing special, Dazai, stop being dramatic and causing a scene.” He states, still pointedly looking at the documents.

“How dare you! Of course any time with a beautiful lady like this-” He sits up and shifts so he’s holding one of her hands. “Is special.”

“I-...would you rather it have been special, Dazai?” She asks huffing out a laugh as he sighs. 

“I can’t believe this. I’ve been betrayed by the two people I trusted...no, make that the one person, now.” He throws himself at her, his head in her lap, ignoring the question.

The rest of the agency isn’t fazed at what’s happening at all, going about with their day. 

“Sorry, Kunikida, I’m afraid I’ll have to resign from being your partner.” Y/N huffs out a laugh, at the offended look on the blonde’s face. 

“I mean, I can’t have any lingering feelings steal my girlfriend away from me! She’s perfect, so of course you would still like her-” he cuts himself off with a yelp as he’s shoved out of her lap and onto the floor by her.

“I hold no feelings for Y/N, you imbecile.” Kunikida says, the tips of his ears turning red. This was not an appropriate place for a conversation like this. 

“Of course someone who holds feelings for my love would say that!” He argues back from the floor.

“Dazai-” Y/N struggles to keep in a laugh at the absolutely stupid argument happening. “You’re the one who’s working with him, not me. If anything, you’d be the one being stolen from me.” 

Dazai’s eyes widen thoughtfully. “...you’re right.” A playful smirk takes up his features then, and he turns to Kunikida. 

“I mean, he’s not half bad once you get past the anger and-” He’s shut up with a book hurled towards him, which he promptly dodges. A stream of angry insults are directed towards him as he sits back on the couch and shrugs. 

“Fine fine! I guess I’ll just have to make sure you don’t infect her with your-”

“I do not have feelings-”

“-feelings by drowning them out with mine.” He grins when Y/N rolls her eyes and let’s him wrap an arm around her.

“That was cheesy.” She notes, unable to keep a small smile off her face. She laughs as Kunikida crosses his arms muttering something to himself. Meeting Dazai eyes, she grins and turns back to Kunikida, all the while leaning further back into her boyfriends arms.

“You know you weren’t wrong...once you get past the anger-”

“Not you too, I already said-”

“Exactly! See, you get me perfectly!” Dazai’s voice drowns out Kunikida’s.

“What if we-”

“Tag team?” Dazai finishes, with a shit eating grin.

“Tag team.” She confirms, and the both of them can’t hold in their laughter as Kunikida turns beet red and stands from his chair, walking to the other side of the room to cool down.

Once their laughs die down to giggles, Y/N tilts her head back to look at Dazai.

“Love you.” She says with a smile. “You know you’re the one I’ll always choose, right?”

“Of course I know!” Dazai returns her smile, leaning forward to kiss her nose, eliciting another giggle from her, and a gagging noise from Ranpo a few feet away.

Request Are Open! Please send em in!

(28/5/2021)

[alwaysmychoices]

Ski Resort

Synopsis: After declaring her intention to leave medicine forever, Charlie must join the Diagnostics Team for one more case before Ethan will let her retire. But once they’re trapped in the ski resort, Charlie gets tangled in the mystery, and she begins to wonder if she should really leave medicine or if it’s time to come back.

Chapter 26 of the “with and without” series

Previous Series: “a weekend with dr. ramsey”

Pairing: Dr. Ethan Ramsey x MC (Charlotte “Charlie” Greene)

Words: 5.5k (sorry, I tried so hard to cut it down)

Rating: Teen

Also available on AO3 & Wattpad (link in Masterlist)

The drive to the ski resort was uncomfortably quiet. Ethan and Charlie didn't speak a word, not even when Baz tried to play car games or entertain the captive group with stories.

No, Ethan and Charlie weren't going to speak – or rather, Ethan wasn't going to speak until Charlie did, and Charlie wasn't going to say a thing.

The fight in Ethan's office had cooled to begrudging acceptance. Despite her objections, Charlie put on her coat, read the patient information, and piled in the car with the rest of the diagnostics team just as Ethan insisted. But her cooperation extended only that far.

Ethan was sure that she was furious in the back seat – so sure that he kept looking back to her in the rearview to see if her expression had soured any further.

But Ethan wasn't right about everything.

Charlie wasn't angry – or if she was, it was secondarily not primarily.

She was anxious.

Anxious to be back at work and interacting with critical patients when her confidence in herself and her skills had never been lower. Anxious to stand on the precipice of her entire future – for if she failed today, she wouldn't be a doctor, and if she didn't, she'd have to face fears buried deep in her soul.

It wasn't that she held her tongue because she would have hurled insults otherwise. She held her tongue because she simply couldn't bear to say anything at all.

June and Baz sensed the discomfort, though they were kind enough to not comment on it. Baz tried his best to lessen the uneasiness with music and diverting conversion, none of which stuck. June was more intrigued, maybe even suspicious.

They'd both been surprised when Charlie joined the expedition after her long absence, but Baz was much more willing to accept the sudden return and be thankful for it. June couldn't shake her curiosity.

After all, why had Charlie suddenly returned from leave for this one case? Why was the relationship between Charlie and Ethan, which had once been friendly, now so tense?

Being scrutinized only made Charlie feel worse.

It was a relief for all parties when they arrived at the ski resort.

Any other day, Charlie would have stopped and marveled at the sight.

Perfect, white snow coated the landscape and the resort. Smoke billowed from the central fireplace, promising warmth and comfort inside. Snow-capped trees climbed Mount Dagger and dotted the landscape. Even with layers and layers of footprints marring the snow and a large resort looming in the background, this place felt serene and untouched somehow.

It was so different from the heat and sunshine Charlie had grown up with.

Part of her wished she could have leaned into Ethan and marveled at the place, letting him tease her for her unfamiliarity and inexperience with snow. She realized that winter had only been pain and survival for them. She had the urge to change that somehow – to throw a snowball or challenge him to make snow angels.

But instead, Charlie just trudged along, keeping the urges to herself and remaining silent.

The owner, Rodney, was a friend of Ethan's. He greeted them all warmly and thanked them for their time. On the way to the patient's room, he offered charming anecdotes about Ethan's childhood and their friendship. Charlie wished she could have engaged more, but it was all becoming too real. In mere moments, she would be a working doctor again – a dream that had become a nightmare.

Paula and her son, Timothy, waited in their hotel room.

In the end, they weren't nearly as frightening as Charlie had imagined them. The entire drive, she morphed her patient experience into that of death and destruction, and she'd forgotten how mundane interactions could really be. Even Paula's defiance and complaints felt tame in the face of all Charlie had been through.

During the initial interview, Charlie didn't resume the active role she'd once had on the team. Instead, it was Ethan who drove the questioning, with June acting as his secondary. The team had found their new rhythm in her absence, and they seemed to know that Charlie was purposefully not stepping into her old shoes.

Ethan was disappointed.

To an outsider, she would have looked like a student rather than a member of the team. She stood in the back of the group, her mouth closed and ideas kept to herself. It could have read as disinterest, though Ethan highly doubted Charlie could confront a mystery and not be enthralled. No, it must have been something else. Anger maybe. Perhaps she wasn't ready, just as she'd warned him in the hospital.

During the interview, Ethan managed to look back at Charlie and examine her without anyone noticing.

And what he found prompted a sigh of relief.

She wasn't disinterested.

Charlie's eyes were bright and alive with curiosity. She was listening attentively, her expression changing slightly with each new piece of information. She must be cataloging it, saving it, and allowing it to simmer until it attached to a theory. Even if she wasn't speaking, she was here. She was part of the team, part of the future solution. He could see it in her now– the passion and empathy he'd recognized in her so early in her intern year.

He found himself hoping it would be enough to make her stay.

Enough to make her realize she wanted to stay.

It distracted him from the interview.

Not that he was missing much anyway. Paula, the patient, was particularly uncooperative. It took considerable prodding – and her son’s insistence – to get Paula to say anything at all.

But Ethan’s attention quickly returned when Paula's behavior suddenly shifted.

June and Baz talking to each other, quietly exposing the confusion amongst the team about Paula's bizarre symptoms. Nothing about the conversation was particularly unusual, but to a distrustful woman like Paula, it was enough to prove incompetence on the team's part.

With an eerie light in her eyes, Paula interrupted to say, "It sounds like you have no idea what you're talking about."

She said it with such airy mirth that the comment was unsettling.

Then, to the horror of everyone in the room, the formerly austere Paula's face split into a wild, frenzied laugh. Her posture had changed – so had her facial expressions. Ethan took a step closer and realized that the disturbing glimmer in her eyes was the dark of her pupil as it dilated.

The team looked at each other in horror and shock.

"Paula, are you feeling alright?" Charlie asked. These were the first unprompted words she'd spoken since the introductions.

"I feel great! Why the hell wouldn't I? I'm stuck on a mountain with a load of incompetent doctors!" Paula's voice dissolved into laughter. It was too loud. Too open. Too long.

The diagnostics team looked to each other, and in a silent consensus, they followed Ethan's lead to the hallway. Once the door closed behind them, they abandoned their polite, neutral expressions to show their true concern.

"It looks like a manic episode. If her brain trauma is extensive enough to cause that…." Ethan trailed off, only for Charlie to finish.

"We need to get her to a hospital as soon as possible. Can we call for a helicopter?"

“Doubtful,” Baz frowned, “During the interview, the storm was upgraded to a blizzard. We wouldn’t have time for a helicopter, and the roads are already being shut down.”

“But we just got here!” Charlie fought it, not that she was sure why she did. The entire drive up, the snow had gotten progressively worse. Even from inside Paula’s room, she could tell the weather was turning.

“Then we’re stuck here,” June announced, ignoring Charlie’s outburst, “We’ll have to monitor Paula all night in case her condition worsens.”

Charlie frowned.

This was not how she wanted her first case back to go.

The patient showed unusual symptoms and potential mania, all while they were trapped in a ski resort by a blizzard? This had death and destruction written all over it.

Had Ethan taken the time to consider it, he would have reached the same dim conclusion.

But fortunately for him, he was more distracted by managing the crisis. With little time before the snow made movement impossible to leave the lodge, Ethan decided to find the source of Paula’s rash on the mountain. Charlie objected on safety grounds, but Ethan went out anyway. In his absence, the team conducted a few tests and settled the room arrangements with Rodney. Ethan returned safely, just a bit cold and damp from the snow, and with the cause of the rash. It was poison sumac, he announced. Unrelated to the other symptoms, unfortunately, but at least they could rule other things out.

Only moments later, the blizzard captured the resort captured the resort and trapped the occupants inside.

To his surprise, Charlie wasn’t impressed by his discovery or his quick return. She was annoyed he’d gone out in the first place. And he suspected she was irritated to be here at all.

He wondered if he was pushing her too far, if his plan to show her the best parts of their job had been flawed. If he had been flawed.

If he was doing more harm than good.

Then June pulled out the hotel keys to present them to everyone.

There were four.

The extra room key stung.

It shouldn’t have.

Of course, they couldn’t stay in the same room on a work trip. He shouldn’t have expected anything different.

But something about it made him feel… distant from her.

Like he’d created a wall between them in this whole endeavor, a wall made physical by the separate rooms. Though he’d done it thousands of nights before, Ethan suddenly couldn’t imagine sleeping without her, her body warm beside him and her fragrant curls straying to his side of the bed. He wanted her to forgive him, though he wasn’t sure what for.

In an ideal world, they would have talked about it.

He would have checked on her.

But instead, in a whirlwind of arrangements and discussions, Ethan began his shift, and Charlie followed Baz and June to find their rooms.

Charlie hadn’t planned on staying, so she had nothing to unpack except for a phone charger from her purse and a laptop borrowed from Edenbrook. She didn’t relish the idea of sleeping in her bulky jeans or shivering in the cold night, but there was nothing she could do about that in a blizzard.

It was a relief to warm herself in a hot shower, but after, the room felt too lonely. Unsure what to do with herself, she searched for Baz and June. She found them both at the bar, which fortunately hadn’t been affected by the outside storm.

They sat by the fire with medical journals and drinks – and smores, in Baz’s case. When Charlie entered, they gave her their full attention.

They were genuinely happy to see her return.

They still believed in her, it seemed.

Not that she should be surprised, she reminded herself.

But she was a little.

She’d forgotten how it felt to be the prodigy, not the shattered impersonation of one.

Baz couldn’t contain his excitement and even went as far as to buy her bourbon in celebration, “I’m so happy you’re back! We’ve missed you, Charlie. It hasn’t been the same without you.”

“He tells the truth,” June confirmed, looking a little amused with her colleague’s enthusiasm.

Charlie didn’t know what to say, so she blushed and let Baz fill in the silence – not that he noticed. He had lots to say.

“To our star resident! You’ve been through hell and back, and we’re so proud of how far you’ve come. For you to have survived that and stand here ready to be a doctor again is brave, Charlie,” Baz emphasized in his toast, oblivious to the fact he was only making Charlie more nervous.

Charlie weakly raised her glass, tapping it against June’s and Baz’s.

June’s eyes settled on Charlie’s unsteady smile.

Which only made Charlie more unsteady.

“I can’t believe you’re really back and that Ethan didn’t even give us a warning! For weeks, he said you needed more time, and then, he surprised us. You two were probably in on it together,” Baz laughed good-naturedly, “So, are you back permanently now?”

I have no idea, she thought.

She didn’t know if she’d make it through this case, let alone if she’d take on another.

Her future was too uncertain, her confidence too shaken to answer.

“Um,” Charlie stammered, looking for an answer that didn’t expose her as a nervous wreck, “We’ll see how it works out with my remaining leave, I guess,” she answered noncommittally.

It was the wrong answer.

Too uncommitted. Not enough enthusiasm. Recognizable nerves.

It exposed something that Charlie wanted to hide. It showed how little she controlled this situation, how little she controlled everything. She didn’t know what would happen or what she wanted to happen. It was such a stark contrast from the determined, headstrong intern she’d once been.

If Baz noticed, he took it in stride and said he hoped she would be back full time soon. Then, he started telling her about all she’d missed – leaving out Levi, of course.

June noticed, though.

She sensed Charlie’s unease, and as a result, she stared. And studied.

Charlie became increasingly uncomfortable as the subject of June’s fascination. She felt like she might crack, like June would see through her if she was given enough time.

She began to feel like an imposter trying to fill her old role, and the deception of it all made her sick.

Charlie couldn’t stay for the rest of the evening, not if she was going to survive the night.

So, Charlie finished her bourbon a little too quickly, and to Baz’s disappointment, she excused herself to review online journals on her laptop. June wasn’t surprised she was leaving, though she politely said goodnight anyway.

Maybe June suspected Charlie’s weakness all along.

Maybe she was the smart one. Maybe she saw the truth that Ethan and Baz couldn’t – that Charlie was irreparably broken.

Even with the distance of a few floors separating them, Charlie felt haunted by the exchange – and maybe even still watched by June.

Charlie wanted to prove herself. She wanted to be the old star resident again, though she wondered if she had it in her.

The research proved fascinating, though research had never been a problem for Charlie. She loved learning, and she was always captivated by cases like this. Still, Paula’s case was an enigma, and Charlie went between journals, online textbooks, and her own observations over and over until her eyes burned. When she couldn’t focus anymore, she decided to take a walk and check on Paula. With any luck, she’d gain valuable information through questioning or observation. Even if learned nothing, it would be nice to see Ethan, someone who knew about her trauma and still believed in her enough to bring her here.

Charlie was halfway to Paula’s room when she spotted a familiar face.

“Timothy?” Charlie called out.

Timothy, the patient’s son, stopped mid-stride in shock. He probably didn’t think that anyone else in this hotel knew him.

“I’m one of your mom’s doctors,” Charlie explained quickly, hoping to put him at ease.

It worked. Timothy relaxed a bit, though he remained rigid enough to protect the cup of herbal tea he was carrying. Another mug for his mom, Charlie suspected. She worried that this meant her symptoms were getting worse.

“I’m on your way to your mother’s room. Do you mind if I walk with you?” Charlie asked. During the interview, Timothy had been more forthcoming than his mother, and if Paula became more uncooperative, he would be their only hope. And she worried for the boy. It had to be scary to watch something like this happen to your mother.

Timothy agreed, and they walked together quietly. After a few quiet moments, Charlie commented, “That’s very sweet of you to bring your mother some tea. You’ve been a very good caretaker, Timothy. That’s brave of you, and I want you to know you’re doing a good job, though you should also take care of yourself tonight.”

“Oh, it’s nothing. I’m used to it,” Timothy said sheepishly, looking into the cup of tea with a shy smile.

Charlie’s interest was piqued.

“What do you mean?”

“It’s just mom and me at home, so I take care of her.”

“What do you take care of, Timothy?”

Timothy frowned like he’d said something wrong.

“We’re here to help,” Charlie assured him, “So if she has a condition you’ve been helping her with, it’s okay. Just let us know. It may be interacting with or causing her current ailment.”

Timothy looked at Charlie thoughtfully. Almost too thoughtfully.

Charlie was sure there was something he wanted to tell her, or at least something he should tell her.

But all he said was, “It’s nothing really. We’re doing better now.”

Better from what? she thought.

Timothy suddenly looked down and frowned further.

“Is something wrong?”

“I forgot my bag in the lobby when I went to make the tea….”

“I can go get it for you.”

“No,” Timothy insisted too quickly.

Charlie was startled.

“Well, I can bring the tea if you want….” Charlie offered, her voice soft.

“She wouldn’t take it from you,” Timothy shook his head, his eyes softer now. Almost like he was apologetic for his mom’s violent dislike of doctors.

Charlie didn’t want to let Timothy go, especially when he was clearly hiding something, but he insisted she go ahead to the room without him. Not wanting to alienate him, Charlie reluctantly complied.

Once Charlie was in Paula’s room, she almost forgot about her strange encounter with Timothy. The change in Paula was drastic. Her boisterous laughter had faded into dreary silence. She laid in the bed silent and unmoving, her face blank and cold. Even the room felt darker, like all of the energy had been drained as depression gripped the primary occupant.

Ethan was stationed in the corner of the room, and he greeted Charlie with a silent nod.

“How long has this been going on?” Charlie whispered as she approached.

“About an hour,” Ethan frowned.

“I ran into the son in the hallway. I think there’s a preexisting condition they’re hiding from us,” Charlie lowered her voice even further to keep from being heard.

“Hmm,” Ethan raised his eyebrows with intrigue.

“I’m working on it,” she assured him.

Before they could talk any further, Timothy entered with a cup of tea and a bookbag in tow. He dropped the bag by the door, letting it slouch near Ethan and Charlie as he rushed to his mother’s side to deliver the tea. His bag’s zipper was half-undone, revealing some of the contents.

Charlie couldn’t help but look.

A notebook. Headphones. Pencils and pens. What looked like a few pages of math homework. Teabags, presumably from the herbal tea.

All normal stuff for a high schooler.

Still, she tilted her head just a bit more.

Some socks. A bag of –

A bag of pills.

Charlie’s head jerked to attention.

Why would he have a bag of pills? Was he abusing them?

Charlie was about to elbow Ethan and draw his attention to it when Timothy returned for the bag, zipping it back up and slinging it over his shoulder. If he noticed her stare, he didn’t let on.

Everything that was said after that was a blur. Charlie was wracking her brain trying to mentally identify the pill, but she didn’t recognize it. If only she knew what it was, maybe she could help.

When June arrived to take her shift, Charlie took it as her opportunity to return to her room to research medications commonly used or abused by teenagers.

Ethan, oblivious to her new mission, was disappointed by how quickly she ran away. He’d been excited when she came to check on Paula. He thought she was getting back into medicine, but now she was running away from it – and him.

He’d hoped to talk to her once he was off duty.

But Charlie didn’t even realize she’d slighted him.

She spent the next forty-five minutes trying to find a match for the pill.

Nothing jumped out at her. The pill she saw didn’t seem to be commonly abused, nor was it coming up in her research. Could it be a regular vitamin? If so, why would he have it in a bag? Or was it a street drug not listed in these databases?

Without interruption, she might have spent the whole night in this fruitless search.

She was lucky Ethan knocked on the door.

Knock. Knock.

Her train of thought was rudely interrupted, she thought, and she was reluctant to abandon her computer and greet the intruder. Had there not been a patient, she might have been annoyed enough to wait for a second knock.

When she saw Ethan, her mind went back to that room – to Paula.

She forgot that there was any other reason he might be coming to see her.

Like the fact that this was her first time back to work or that he was her boyfriend.

“Are Paula and Timothy alright?” Charlie blurted out, skipping introductions as she assumed the worst.

“Oh…” Ethan was a little knocked back, “Yes. They’re fine.”

“Oh,” Charlie was relieved but now a bit confused.

He stared at her.

Didn’t she understand why he was here? Why wasn’t she inviting him inside?

For a second, she’d gotten so into her job that she’d forgotten everything else – even how much her job terrified her.

“I came to check on you,” Ethan announced finally.

This jolted Charlie’s memory, and she quickly moved back from the door, letting him enter.

Her room was smaller than his, he noted. He found himself hoping she wouldn’t sleep in it tonight. He wanted her by his side. He wanted the assurance that he hadn’t lost her by pushing her too hard.

“How are you doing?” Ethan asked as he crossed the room, silently appraising her living arrangements. By the state of the crumbled comforter, it looked like she’d been researching on her laptop for most of the night.

“Alright, I guess” Charlie murmured, a little unsure of herself.

Their case was an enigma, and their patient was rapidly detreating in a blizzard. A teen had mystery pills in his backpack. June was now studying her. All day, Charlie had been teetering between genuine passion for her job and the feeling of insufficiently filling her old role.

How well could she really be doing?

But she also couldn’t say that she was miserable. She wasn’t as sure of her decision to leave as she had been this morning, nor was she convinced that medicine was all death and destruction.

The best way to describe Charlie was unsteady. Unsure, even.

She just had to survive this case.

Ethan, unsatisfied with her answer, awkwardly paced her small hotel room. She watched.

Finally, he turned to her, and finding the courage to say the words he’d prepared for the last hour, he said, “I’ve been thinking, and I wanted to apologize. I pushed you a lot today. At the time, I thought it was right. In fact, I still think it was right, but… it wasn’t fair.”

Charlie couldn’t believe Ethan was apologizing. Any other day, she might have even gloated. But today, she squirmed, equally unnerved by the situation. Maybe even more so.

Ethan waited for her response, trying so hard to be patient but failing miserably. He couldn’t fathom that he might have misjudged her limits and ruined everything.

It felt like an eternity before she spoke.

“It’s okay… I needed to come back before I decided. Maybe not so abruptly but…” Charlie trailed off, the edge of a smile on her lips. There was a glint in her eyes, and he realized she was poking fun at him.

He was relieved.

“You’ve done really well today,” Ethan ventured, “I’m proud of you.”

Charlie shook her head sheepishly, “I barely spoke.”

“But you were listening.”

“You can’t pretend I’m the same as I was.”

“You don’t have to be the same to be a good doctor, Charlie.”

Charlie bit her lower lip as she averted her gaze.

He took that as an invitation to be bolder, “I think you should come back permanently.”

“What?” Charlie’s eyes shot back to him, the shock in her eyes verging on indignation.

“The team agrees. It’s time, Charlie,” Ethan knew he was stuck now. He couldn’t take it back or soothe the storm that was brewing.

“You spoke to the team?” her gaze grew harder.

“I wanted you to know that you had full faith in you!” Ethan explained.

“June’s already watching me like there’s something wrong with me! Now you’ve just given her more reason to study me,” Charlie shook her head, frustration rising through her veins, “Why would you do that before talking to me?”

“You need to know that we believe in you, Charlotte,” Ethan said quite defensively, “We want you on the team.”

“I haven’t even made it through this case. What makes you think I’m ready to take on another?”

“Because you’re you. You’re not even out of residency yet, and you’re pulling your weight among experts. You’re discovering preexisting conditions none of us ever knew about-“

“Of which we have no proof!” Charlie interrupted.

“You’re still closer to an answer than any of us are,” Ethan said firmly, “And even when you’re scared, like you are now, you still care. You’re a good doctor. Great, even. You’ll be better than me one day. But you’re giving up-“

“Giving up?” Charlie repeated incredulously, “That’s what you think I’m doing?”

“You have a gift!”

“I almost died,” Charlie emphasized, “Every time a patient comes in with a mystery illness and no hope, I know what that feels like. I relive the worst day of my life through their eyes, and I know I can’t save them all. And you think I’m just giving up?”

“I didn’t mean it like that, Charlie,” Ethan said, suddenly ashamed, “I’m trying to help you. I love you, and I know you love medicine. I don’t want you to lose that because of a premature decision.”

“So, you think you’re helping me by making me do what I don’t want?”

Ethan frowned, “When it feels like it’s for the best, yes… But it’ll get better.”

Charlie paused.

And then something clicked.

And the fight – and Ethan’s dumb words – were forgotten.

“Wait,” she mumbled, “Making me do what I don’t want…”

“Yes, I know, and I’m sorry. But I really am trying to help,” Ethan tried, oblivious to the shift in Charlie’s mind.

She ignored him, rushing to her computer.

“What are you doing?” Ethan asked incredulously, watching as she frantically typed something into her computer. Again, she ignored him.

Her eyes the screen until they landed on the pill she’d seen in Timothy’s bag.

“I know what’s wrong with Paula.”

Ethan dropped his defensive stance and rushed to her side, hoping he’d understand by looking at her screen. But all he saw was a medication.

“There’s a bag of lithium in Timothy’s backpack. He said he’s been taking care of her for a long time but that she got better recently. I think he’s drugging her with this.”

“Her mood swings…” Ethan’s jaw almost dropped.

“He’s probably been trying to treat her for bipolar disorder on his own. You saw how she was with doctors. I doubt she would have gone in for treatment,” Charlie felt a knot form in her stomach. Even though she was sure of her hypothesis, she hoped it wasn’t true.

“And they gave her ibuprofen to treat her head injury,” Ethan swallowed heavily.

“We have to get her to a hospital.”

“And talk to Timothy.”

As if reading each other’s minds, they abandoned the laptop in Charlie’s room and raced to Paula’s room where they found Timothy waiting by his sleeping mother, looking exhausted but sleepless with worry.

Unfortunately, Charlie’s theory was correct.

Timothy confessed, and Charlie’s heart broke as they explained the repercussions of his actions as well as the severity of what he had done wrong. She felt for him, for what he must have gone through to think such action was necessary. But she couldn’t excuse his decision to medicate her without her consent, especially given the consequences. The lithium and ibuprofen combined to form a disastrous chain reaction, one that lasted even after they discovered the cause.

It took hours for the storm to clear enough for the helicopters to take Paula to the hospital.

While they waited, Charlie and Ethan sat in his room – a romantic suite with a view of the snowy mountains. It felt like a waste now. A romantic night they could have had, if Charlie hadn’t solved such a sad mystery. She was tired, though she wouldn’t admit it. At some point, she drifted to sleep, and Ethan held her, his fingers running through her hair as he kissed her temple and quietly congratulated her on her solve.

“I always knew you’d be the one to solve it,” he whispered.

“Why?” she murmured, “Were you holding back?”

“No, because you’re smarter than me,” he chuckled.

Charlie was smiling when she fell asleep.

When she woke up, the mood had shifted back to panic.

The helicopter on its way, and the team needed to follow. June and Baz took the helicopter with Paula and Timothy, and Ethan and Charlie drove the car back once the roads opened. The team called a few times to share updates and ask for advice.

But for most of the drive, Ethan held Charlie’s hand in silence.

The case was over.

She could back to her life in the apartment where she hid from the world and pushed herself just a little day by day, building her tolerance safely. She could tell Ethan he was wrong. Or she could stay.

And the truth was… she couldn’t imagine going back now.

Not now that she remembered what it was like on the good days – ones where she made the solve and saved the day. Ones where she realized she made a difference, that she solved things other people couldn’t.

It was okay to be scared.

Even as the words were on the tip of her tongue, she was terrified.

“My answer is yes.”

Ethan’s eyes momentarily drifted from the road to her, “What?”

“To your question last night. I want to come back permanently.”

Ethan felt like he could crash the car out of pure shock.

“Are you sure?”

“I mean… not really. I’m scared, but I think it’s time,” Charlie nodded her head, trying to project the confidence she wanted to once more possess.

“We can wait for you if you need more time,” Ethan assured her, struggling to keep his eyes on the highway and not right at her.

“I know,” Charlie confirmed, “But now is the time. I can’t retire, and I can’t wait forever to go back. I’ll never be 100% ready, so I just have to jump in.”

Ethan’s heart was beating so fast that Charlie felt it as she held his hand.

“Are you really, really sure?” Ethan clarified just one more time.

“Yes,” Charlie laughed, a smile lingering on her lips.

He looked at her. Briefly, of course. He was driving, after all.

And then his face broke out in a face-splitting grin.

“I’m so proud of you, Rookie,” he brought her hand to his lips, kissing her knuckles, “You’re amazing! I love you! I love you so much.”

His happiness was infectious. So infectious that she forgot about the fear.

And she laughed.

“You haven’t called me Rookie in a long time,” she squeezed his hand softly, and he cast a sideways glance at her.

“Do you still like being called Rookie?”

“Yes,” she smiled so warmly it practically radiated off of her.

And he loved her. He really did.

“Well then, I love you, Rookie,” he smirked, “And I owe you a romantic ski vacation.”

“Bold of you to assume I know how to ski.”

“And I owe you ski lessons, I suppose,” he murmured affectionately.

“You also owe me a kiss when we stop this car,” Charlie added.

He looked over at her – and quite recklessly because they were doctors and knew what could happen when young lovers were stupid on highways – he kissed her. Quickly, of course. Softly. But lovingly.

And even if she regretted it tomorrow and the world caved again, she was glad she was back today.

[themurphyzone]

PatB Oneshot: Heartbeat

Based on @wimsiecal‘s wonderful Brain Meets Brawn AU...I might have a thing. for monsters...it’s bad...

There are some ideas from @thecutiewhoyaksandsnacks here too, namely Brain holding Pinky’s wrist for his heartbeat. 

Summary: Brain Meets Brawn AU where Pinky drinks Dr. Jekyll’s potion. 

AO3 Link

London was such a fun playground! 

The horse-drawn carriages, the chimney sweepers, the marketplace! 

And there was the lovely silhouette of Big Ben in the distance! Vaguely, he heard a voice call that he was going in the wrong direction, that he was supposed to hold the giant doohickey, that he was supposed to stop dilly-dallying and pay attention-

But why would he wanna do any of that? It all sounded so boring! He just wanted to play!

Bounding into the street on all fours, he took in the gray skies, coughing as a nearby factory spewed smoke from its stacks. No wonder the people all seemed drab and lifeless if all they had were gray skies and smoke. 

They needed some fun fun silly-willy in their lives! 

There was a man with long, funny sideburns walking arm-in-arm with a woman in a big, poofy dress! They were such a lovely couple, and they’d be perfect to play house with! 

He bounded up to the couple, tail wagging in excitement at the very thought of having new playmates. 

“Hellooooooo!” he said, and his voice was a lot hoarser than he thought. It was a lot harder to get the words out of his throat too. “Wannaaaaa plaaay?”  

The woman screamed, and the man threw his arm in front of her. 

Oh, did they want to scream instead? Okay, that was fun too! 

He screamed right back. 

The couple fled across the bridge, towards the other side of London over the Thames, shouting for a constable. Why did they want a constable? Unless...oh, the fashion police probably wanted him cause he wasn’t wearing anything except green fur. 

He could’ve sworn his fur was a different color before this, but he couldn’t quite remember. Oh well! What’s the point in worrying over something like that? 

The voice called again, harsh and scolding in that why-aren’t-you-doing-as-you’re-told sort of way. Too many big words. He didn’t want to hear big words. He only wanted to have fun! 

Further down the road, a horse-drawn carriage rattled down the uneven pavement. The horses moved in sync, their hooves clip-clopping against stone. They were both large brown horses with white stripes on their foreheads, a short man with a pinched face driving them towards the bridge.

Horses were lovely, friendly animals. They’d play with him!  

Clapping his hands with glee, he ran after them, nearly bowling over a group of children in his haste. They immediately scattered, yelling something about green monsters. 

Once he asked the horses to play, maybe he could find that group of children again. He’d never heard of the green monster game before, but he definitely wanted to try it out! 

The pathway was narrow, so he climbed on top of the stone archway that formed the sides of the bridge and switched to all fours. The horses trotted along at a steady pace, and he quickly overtook them, dropping in front of the carriage just as they reached the other side of the bridge. 

He crouched down with his tail wagging, but before he could ask if they wanted to play, the horses reared up and batted the air with their front hooves. The short man screamed as he flicked the reins in an attempt to get the horses under control, but the horses shot forward instead, nearly tipping the carriage on its side. 

He barely leapt out of their way in time, and the horses dragged the carriage past him and through the streets, ignoring the coachman’s shouts for them to slow down.

They didn’t want to play either. 

Nobody did. 

A raw, unfamiliar feeling settled into his stomach. It bubbled up to his chest, his entire body trembling. He didn’t like it. This wasn’t fun. 

Why didn’t anyone want to play with him? 

He screamed, sending an entire crowd scurrying for cover.  

“That’s him! That’s the monster, constable!” a woman yelled before fainting in her husband’s arms. It was the couple who’d fled from him earlier. 

A tall young man in a blue uniform broke free of the crowd, his arm quivering as he raised his billy club. His face was pale as he slowly approached. But he didn’t seem bad. Just looked like he needed to sit down for a bit.

He stretched one long arm and pushed the constable down. The constable’s eyes widened with terror, and he yelped as his bottom hit the pavement hard. 

He hadn’t meant to push the guy down with that much force.  

The crowd shuffled back, their whispers loud and accusing. Many watched him with fear in their eyes. 

He whimpered and carefully held out his clawed fingers to see if the man was hurt. This wasn’t what he wanted. He just wanted someone to play with. 

Before he could touch the man’s shoulder, he heard heavy boots thunder against stone. The constable beside him suddenly shot up, nearly knocking himself in the head with his own club. A red-faced man with an equally red mustache stormed across the bridge. His blue uniform was crisp with hardly a wrinkle. 

He squeezed something small and white in one gloved hand while gripping his billy club with the other hand. 

“OI, GET OFF YOUR LAZY BUM AND DEAL WITH THAT CREATURE ALREADY, HENRY!” the newcomer bellowed. Henry fumbled for his club while trying to stand. As he scolded poor Henry, he lost his grip on the small white thing, who tumbled to the ground in a heap. 

It wasn’t a thing. No, it was a very familiar mouse. 

“Pinky?” he murmured, rubbing his large head as he sat up. 

Though just a tiny voice, the fog in his mind began to clear, and he remembered things like tomorrow nights and worlds and clocks. And with all that was a name. 

His name. 

And another too, one that belonged to his best friend in the whole world. 

“Buh-raaaaaain?” Pinky said, and it was hard to get the word out when it should’ve flowed off his tongue like butter. 

And there was another word too, one that brought him much joy. 

“Naaaaaarrrrf,” Pinky warbled, and it was finally a word that came easy to him. It was simple and right, like a lost friend he was just reconnecting with after being apart for so long. 

Brain sighed, and Pinky giggled at his funny scowl. “Of course you’d retain your nonsensical vocabulary.” 

How he could sound disappointed and relieved at the same time, Pinky didn’t know. But he was here, and that was all that mattered in the end. 

Pinky gently pressed the side of his finger against Brain’s cheek. Even one finger was much bigger than Brain. He was just so itty-bitty, like the spider who climbed up the waterspout! 

Brain’s face turned tomato-red. “Not in public, Pinky!” he hissed, trying to shove Pinky’s finger away from his face, though he was too small to accomplish that. He stumbled with that particular action, wincing as his hand flew to a spot just above his left hip. 

Though Pinky didn’t see why he couldn’t show affection, he removed his finger from Brain’s cheek. Brain quickly glanced at the crowd, but they were much too focused on how the mustached constable was berating the younger one for not doing his job properly. 

The younger constable had gone paler, if that was even possible. 

Brain flicked his finger. Pinky laid his head on the pavement, turning a large ear toward the smaller mouse.

“I would’ve caught up sooner, but that brutish oaf of a constable captured me,” Brain said, gripping the outer edge of Pinky’s ear as he spoke. “He knows we’re...associates, and unsuccessfully tried to interrogate me for any information I knew about you. I, of course, gave nothing away about my plans for Big Ben. Speaking of which, we’ve been delayed for too long. No more...ow, no more distractions, Pinky.” 

There was a tiny hitch in Brain’s voice. The one that always appeared if he was hurt and trying to hide it so he could move on with a plan. 

Pinky stood up so quickly that Brain was left dangling from his ear, feet kicking out in an attempt to find solid ground. Carefully, Pinky brought one hand up to his ear, securing Brain in the palm of his hand before bringing up to eye level. 

“Enough, Pinky. Let’s depart before-what in Ptolemy’s name are you doing?” Brain protested as Pinky gently pushed him down, using his free hand to check Brain over injuries. 

He rolled Brain onto his side. He winced even though Pinky used the lightest of taps above his left hip. 

There was a purple bruise, visible against the white fur. 

Hurt. Brain was hurt. 

Fog clouded his mind once again, and this time, it was red. The city was blanketed in a crimson haze. 

Part of him feared it. It was unlike anything he’d ever felt before, this deep urge to hurt and maim and kill.

It was wrong. It was evil. 

But the urges only grew stronger. 

Hurt Brain. Make man pay. Make man suffer!

He growled and doubled over, and he felt something slip out of his hand. Something important, but he didn’t remember what. 

There were scary noises coming from his throat, loud and ominous and terrifying. 

“He’s dangerous!” 

“Kill him!” 

“No! Can’t you idiots understand you’re only agitating him?” 

That last voice was the loudest and clearest of all, though it was quickly lost in the cacophony.

Something struck his back multiple times. 

“Why isn’t this working?”  the constable screeched. The billy club thumped against thick, green fur. But the blow didn’t hurt at all. His fur was too thick. 

“S-sir, m-maybe the little big-headed guy is right?” Henry stammered. “Wh-what if you make him mad?” 

But the older constable didn’t listen, though he gave up trying to break through the thick fur. His sharp gaze fixated on a small, white-furred mouse. 

“Sympathizer,” he snarled, as the mouse hurled long, big-worded insults at the crowd. He didn’t notice the constable’s heavy footsteps, the raised club, the shadow falling across him-

Hurt Brain! Make man pay! Make man suffer! 

The mantra once again encompassed his mind, his hand striking the pavement behind Brain just in time to block the club with his wrist. Brain leapt back at the noise, clutching his zigzagged tail close to his body to protect it.

His bare wrist throbbed, unprotected by thick fur. 

But he didn’t care. 

Hurt Brain! Make man pay! Make man suffer!

He roared, and the constable’s mouth opened in a soundless scream as he dropped his club. Drawing himself up to full height, he towered over the man and snatched him up by the waist. His hand wrapped around the man’s chest, claws digging into his uniform. 

The man whimpered, frozen to the spot as he stared right into sharp, long fangs.

You hurt Brain! You hurt friend! 

He snarled, claws tightening, pricking the man’s skin. Just a little more...sink the tips in…

The man begged for mercy.

Oh, now he’d beg when it was his own life on the line? He didn’t deserve mercy at all. 

He squeezed. The man’s eyes bugged out of his head, his limbs stiff and useless. 

Stop this! A voice inside pleaded. This isn’t right! 

Shut up! he snarled, and the man made a pathetic, muffled noise. 

He wouldn’t be weak ever again. From this point on, he’d be strong enough to protect Brain from the humans. 

In the corner of his eye, someone moved. He snarled in their direction, warning them to stay back or else. 

The movement stopped. But he was still being watched. 

Irritated, he turned to whoever dared to interrupt. 

And he saw loose, drooping ears. Unsure hands caught between reaching out and protecting a soft, vulnerable body.  

A pair of rose-pink eyes that were round and wide with fear, shining with a sadness from deep within. 

Pinky? A trembling mouth whispered. Nobody else heard.  

The red haze tainting his vision lifted. Within his claws, the man choked for breath. 

Pinky dropped him. 

The man crumpled to the ground, and the crowd fearfully watched Pinky. Henry dragged the man away, several people breaking off the staredown to check the man over for injuries. 

He...he just wanted him to stop hurting Brain. He didn’t mean to almost kill the man!

He tried to apologize, tried to say sorry, but it wouldn’t come out. Why wouldn’t it come out? 

Why was it so hard to say anything?    

Only one thing came to mind. 

He ran. 

All he did was hurt everyone. All he did was hurt Brain. 

o-o-o-o-o

Pinky ran until he was completely out of breath. Maybe it was a cowardly move, maybe he should’ve owned up, but some instinct told him to flee before he was attacked with fire and pitchforks. 

He took all the twists and turns he could, trying not to think about anyone he nearly bowled over in his path. 

What’s one more person? some dark part of him chuckled. 

A howl tore from Pinky’s throat, the only protest he could make from that bad, evil voice. He didn’t want anything to do with it ever again. 

He came across an empty alley, surrounded by tall buildings that blotted out what little natural light trickled into the depths of the city. He could crawl into the darkness and never hurt anyone else. 

It was perfect.  

He collapsed on his stomach, too exhausted to move to the farthest spot in the alley. Then he tucked all his limbs in so he wouldn’t hurt anybody. As he curled his tail around himself, he felt something odd on the tip. 

Did he catch it on something? 

He turned to look, finding Brain balancing on the crook of his elbow, clutching the tip of Pinky’s tail against his chest. They stared at each other for a long moment, Pinky’s tail sliding out of Brain’s grip. 

“Buh-raaaaaaain?” Pinky asked. His words just weren’t coming out right. 

“I grabbed your tail when you fled,” Brain explained, awkwardly shuffling his feet against Pinky’s fur. He winced and rubbed his left side, where the constable had bruised him. “Um, how’s your...condition?” 

“Hurrrrrrts,” Pinky whimpered. It hurt to even force that out. 

Worry flashed in Brain’s eyes, and he patted the thick fur on Pinky’s arm. Pinky couldn’t feel the soothing motion at all. “Pinky, you don’t have to worry about it. Nobody’s dead, so-” 

But they were still hurt because of him!

Pinky couldn’t tell Brain that. It was too long and he could barely say single words. 

He wanted to thrash around, to take it out on everything he could reach, but he dug his claws into the ground underneath himself instead, letting the asphalt take the brunt of the scary anger that overtook him. 

The feeling soon passed. 

Brain’s ears drooped. “That was foolish of me,” he mumbled, not meeting Pinky’s eyes. 

And there was silence. Pinky cried, too afraid to move. What if he hurt Brain? He didn’t bother wiping the tears away. Brain made some odd sounds, like he wanted to speak words of comfort but couldn’t. 

Then he settled for pondering quietly to himself. 

“Show me your injured wrist, Pinky,” Brain said, in a tone that left no room for argument. 

Obediently, Pinky stretched out his arm.   

Through the tears that fell fast and free, Pinky watched Brain crawl down his arm and into his palm. Sitting there like he wasn’t surrounded by claws that could hurt him. 

Brain carefully pushed on the bare skin, watching Pinky as he did so. Truth be told, it didn’t hurt much. Then Brain pressed two fingers on a spot below Pinky’s thumb. 

“Strong beat,” Brain murmured, like he was trying to assure himself along with Pinky. “Means your heart’s good. That you’re here. With me.” 

Brain looked up, and he was crying too. 

Brain truly thought so? After all Pinky did? 

“Heart’s...good?” Pinky repeated, carefully rubbing Brain’s damp cheek with his thumb.  

“In a purely anatomical sense, of course,” Brain coughed. “And what’s more, I...I shouldn’t have put you through this.” 

Brain pushed Pinky’s thumb away and slid off his hand, turning his back to Pinky, afraid to let him see his face. 

“...I’m sorry.” 

With those two simple words, an entire burden lifted off Pinky’s shoulders. Easier to move and breathe and talk. No more worrying about claws and hurting someone with a strength nobody should have. 

Snowy white fur replaced green. No more claws and fangs. A size where he could properly wrap Brain in a hug and tell him everything would be okay. 

Shedding the last of his extra height and muscle, Pinky walked up to Brain, resting his jaw against the top of Brain’s head like he’d done so many times before.

“Poit,” Pinky whispered, wrapping his arms around Brain. He was careful to avoid the bruise. “It’s okay, Brain.” 

Gently, Pinky took Brain’s wrist in his hand. There was a sharp intake of breath from Brain, like he couldn’t believe Pinky was at a normal mouse’s height now. Pinky felt the skin just below Brain’s thumb, resting his fingers just over Brain’s pulse. 

It was a strong, steady heartbeat. 

“Good heart. And you’re here with me too,” Pinky said. 

“...I’ll concoct an antidote when we get back to the lab,” Brain whispered. For once, he didn’t shove Pinky off. Instead, he turned around and nuzzled into Pinky’s chest, clutching his fur tightly like he was afraid Pinky would leave if he let go. 

In the distance, Big Ben chimed four. 

[yourwildsimp]

Typically

This makes many references to No Regrets (an insight on Levi before he enrolled in the Scouts.) I also tried a new writing style, so please, give me feedback!

includes: Erwin, Levi

warnings: alcoholic themes, depression, PTSD (post-traumatic stress disorder), mentions of suicidal thoughts/actions

length: 2,028 words

•°•°•°•

Erwin Smith was typically content in his mattress by 10:30, praying to whatever gods that may (or may not) be out there that his slumber would be blissful and refreshing. He typically knew of his subordinates' locations and their relative mental states this late into any given night. He typically had most of his paperwork signed and stacked into a neat, organized pile.

Though tonight, as trepidation rolled over him in slow, progressing waves, Erwin Smith was neither content nor situated in a well-put-together office. He did not know where the Captain was or when the elusive man would return. He did not know beforehand that multiple contracts would need the Captain's signature. Hell, Erwin did not know if Levi could even write in cursive. At the moment, he did not know a lot of things.

Erwin wasn't exactly enthusiastic about experiencing these feelings of troubling uncertainty.

The dense thud of staggering boots on the half-rotted wooden flooring impeded Erwin's vexing thoughts. Moving from his spot by the window that overlooked the training grounds, he hastily stalked towards his office door. Yet as his fingertips were mere inches from the handle, the door slammed open, catching the Commander off guard.

Erwin back-stepped as no one other than Levi himself lost his footing from kicking the door open. The door frame was the only thing that aided Levi's attempt at steadying his balance; Erwin was far too focused on darting his bewildered eyes over Levi's condition.

Was the blunt and foul-mouthed Levi Ackerman. . . Drunk?

No, that couldn't be right. The man despised everything about alcohol: the lasting effects, the heavy smell, the noxious health problems. Every time the Corps tried to get Levi to drink, he had remarked about booze being nothing more than poison marketed as a miracle tonic. But, what else could explain the unfocused eyes that were typically sharp and observant or the swaying small frame that was typically nimble and composed?

"Have you been drinking, Levi? You look terrible."

The vicious scowl Erwin received told him that the way he worded his concern was extremely misinterpreted.

"Oh, fuck you, jackass. Not everyone can look like a shining star, Smith." Levi's words were unnaturally slurred, further proving what Erwin refused to accept. "Get outta my way and let me in."

Erwin cautiously stepped to the side- as he'd rather keep this peculiar sight to himself and spare the Captain's dignity. Levi's shoulder shoved against Erwin's bicep as he stumbled into the Commander's office. A snarl remarking Erwin's height was woven into the tense atmosphere of the room.

"Where have you been?" Erwin asked as he gently shut the door, keeping an apprehensive gaze on Levi.

He simply received a distracted scoff. Erwin took a deep breath before he huffed out of his nose. He watched as Levi fumbled through various unlocked drawers in search of who-knows-what.

"Levi-"

"Where's your Devil's water, Smith?" Erwin narrowed his eyes in confusion before Levi, belligerently, elaborated. "Your liquor, dip-shit. Where have you stashed it?"

Erwin pressed his lips into a thin line before he offered a calculated answer, "I don't hide alcohol in my office." A spiteful string of obscenities left Levi's swollen lips, the drunk balling his fist tight by his sides. "Liar! You're a filthy deceiver, you know that? You're worth less than the shit in the stables! A sleaze bag from the Underground would be more helpful than you!"

Erwin paused, studying Levi like Hange would study a Titan. "Are you okay, Levi?" He knew the question was redundant the moment the words left his lips.

“Fuck!” Levi yelled, tugging on his already loose cravat. “Am I okay? What kind of bullshit question is that? Hell, my uncle used to tell me that life’s like a toilet paper roll; you’re either on a roll or taking shit from some asshole- and you know what? You’re that asshole, Smith!”

"Be careful of the open window, Levi," Erwin warned, as polished and unwavering as ever. His indifference to the slew of insults and profanities made Levi's blood boil.

Erwin only moved closer when the Captain disregarded his warning and continued to near the dangerously open casement. Erwin tuned out the vulgarities that were continuously hurled at him with an intense enmity, the gears clicking together in his head.

There was a chance Levi's destination was through the window- a chance Erwin was not willing to take.

"What are you doing? You're going to fall out," Erwin said more forcefully.

The change in the Commander's tone didn't seem to phase Levi, who was resting his forearms on the window sill. As Levi's weight shifted to his unstable upper body, Erwin could feel his heartbeat pounding in his throat, temples, fingertips- everywhere except his chest.

Levi went quiet, his drunken tantrum utterly forgotten as childlike wonder filled his eyes. In the moment of calm after the storm, Erwin couldn't fail to notice that Levi looked so much younger when he wasn't so pent up. The Captain was significantly more demonstrative when he was intoxicated; and may it be good or bad, Erwin was content with Levi seeming mortal.

"He used to hate heights, and she smoked him for it," Levi broke the moment of silence with hardly a whisper. "It was all a game to her."

Erwin's features, which were glazed over with faux insouciant, didn't match the curious gaze he studied Levi with. He stood inert, fearful of scaring Levi into a diligent silence or another aggressive episode. Erwin didn't ask for extensive details, nor did he implore Levi to move away from the window again. He simply waited, having an idea of what was plaguing his inebriated soldier's mind.

"You know, when you found me, we were heading to get a job done," Levi spoke so softly that Erwin felt the need to hold his breath to hear him properly.

The Commander took Levi's brief pause as an opening to speak, despite having nothing to say. "Is that so?"

Levi exhaled something grim; something that nearly sounded like an empty chuckle. "Yeah, Smith, it is."

Levi ignored how Erwin wearily moved closer as he adjusted himself further out of the window. The Captain relished in a twisted feeling of pride knowing that he could make his superior jump to aid him, that he could make the man twitch with such a deep sense of uneasiness- so much so that it shone in his perceptive blue eyes.

"Levi, get away from-"

"He was so nervous for the mission, despite it being so. . . " Levi swayed his hand through the night air, searching for the right word after cutting Erwin, and his concerns, off. "So pointless," is what he settled for.

"It was just a run-through," he huffed out a sigh, "check the brothel for any kids, start trouble if there were. Then, haul ass to the surface to get the brats to somewhere safer. Simple, right?"

Erwin swallowed, his gaze settling on Levi's reflection in the mirror.

"But, something always has to fuck me over," Levi spat with a clenched jaw, capturing the window sill in an iron grip. "Isn't that right?! You simply adore dancing all of your puppets around until they can't take it anymore- but you don't stop, do you?!" Levi screamed at the full moon in the sky.

Erwin sharply exhaled through his nose, Levi swaying side to side like empty ODM gear in the breeze. Levi swore and stretched his fingers out to relieve the tension in them.

"I bumped into a guy whose ego was as big as his body. The bastard was huge and wouldn't let it go." Levi hung his head, the stars bringing back memories he'd rather forget. "I think you were there when we had settled the issue and took off."

Erwin remembers like it happened yesterday. He could never forget the first time he saw Levi fly on the Wings of Revolution; it was enchanting.

Levi outstretched his arm, one foot leaving the floor as he reached to the giant moon glowing against the night sky.

"Levi, you need to stop being heedless, or you'll fall and end up dead!" Erwin finally snapped, his hand darting to grab Levi's. He missed his target, the shorter one moving unexpectedly and making Erwin snatch his pale forearm.

The wind from the chill night ruffled the forgotten paperwork on Erwin's desk, Levi's eerily hollow chuckle overlaying the white noise. Empty steel-gray finally looked into Erwin's ocean blues, heavy-lidded and worn thin.

"Don't you know I'm stupid? The hell does 'heedless' mean, blondie?" Levi wore a painful grin.

Erwin furrowed his brow in worry, loosening his grip but not letting go. "Careless," he said gently, thumbing fondly at Levi's flushed skin. "It means. . . Careless."

Levi's bottom lip trembled, and Erwin swore he saw his small body twitch with a hiccup. "Maybe that's what I want, Commander- to end up dead," Levi breathed, sending a cold surge through Erwin.

"Hey, don't say that," Erwin said quickly in a hushed tone. His free hand gently cupped Levi's shoulder.

"Why not?" Levi's voice was so small. It scared Erwin. "Every time I shut my eyes at night, all I see is their faces, hear them call my name." Erwin could feel Levi trembling.

"I know, Levi. By the walls, I know how it feels to begin to go numb. How it is to lose everything close to you, and still need to press onwards," Erwin murmured.

"Oh, sure. You see the face of every comrade that you've sent to death in your dreams. I'm sure you remember each and every soldier." The sarcastic bite in Levi's tone made Erwin unhand the man's arm.

"Excuse me. . ?" Erwin breathed, stupidly hoping he had misheard Levi.

"You don't know how it feels to be looked at like a human shit stain for simply trying to survive! You're just Mr. Fucking Perfect, right?" Levi's fruitless attempt to push Erwin away by his chest only agitated the blonde.

"Another pompous asshole that wouldn't hesitate to judge me from getting on all fours back then just to be able to eat twice a week!" Levi's (false) accusations were making Erwin increasingly angry.

"You're no different than everyone in the Capital-"

"You'd better watch your mouth, Ackerman."

Levi sucked in a short breath so quickly, it made his throat dry up; though, that might've been caused by the snarl of his surname. He didn't get another chance to speak as Erwin loomed over his frame.

"Who gave you an escape route when you had nowhere else to turn? Was it the Capital? Who was it that believed in you when everyone else wanted you to hang? The Capital, perhaps? Apologies, my memory is hazy."

Levi had seen Erwin agitated, seen him berate cadets and superiors alike with no backlash. But the man was always so poised and assured. Sure, the unsettlingly strong fire behind his crystal eyes was never smothered, but it was not once openly expressed.

Until now.

It had Levi- the nephew of Kenny the Ripper, the Captain of the 104th Cadet Corp, Humanity's Strongest Soldier- intimidated enough to shrink in on himself.

"I don't mean to scare you, Levi. I truly don't. But when you have the audacity to lump me into the crowd of discriminatory pedophiles and rapists? After everything I have done for you?" Erwin scoffed, ending his rant.

"I-I... I'm-"

"I don't want you to apologize. It's difficult to believe that you would. It's just not like you," Erwin swallowed thickly as Levi sniffled.

"Levi, I-" Erwin cut himself off, clenching his jaw.

Want you. Need you.

I think I'm in love with you. What a dream it would be to say. But he shouldn't. And he won't.

"You should sober up here while I get work done. How does that sound?" Erwin felt the urge to vomit after those words burned off his tongue.

"Thank you," Levi hardly whispered. "Thank you, Erwin."

Closing his eyes tightly, Erwin nodded, leading Levi to the couch the was sitting against the sidewall.

"Of course, Levi. I would do anything for you."

[angstyaches]

Drop

Again, this is quite heavy for this blog. Please heed the warnings! DM me for a summary, if you don’t want to actually read it because of any of the tags (I’ll make a post if anyone asks on anon). Stay safe, friends.

CW: disordered eating mention, alcohol, heights (inc. character struggling with fear of heights), angsty and dark thoughts, relationship problems being discussed, very brief but intense death ideation, mention of gore/injury (described by character, not real), danger of falling, mention of broken glass, emeto, food mention, blood mention

 ___

Shayne had hoped the bad thoughts would take longer to find him, but they were waiting for him just on the other side of his bedroom door in the townhouse. For the past two weeks, he’d eaten three meals a day with Charlie at his parents’ house, even if some of them were small, and he’d been imagining himself keeping it up once he got back, but now that he was alone, the shame and the feeling of helplessness that had always surrounded food came flooding back.

When dinner time rolled around that evening (he knew it was dinner time because his stomach remembered), he felt Madelyn’s phantom breath on his neck and ignored the hunger. He crawled into his bed and tried forcing himself to sleep before his body could realise it was being deprived.

But god, he was just a needy, greedy little black hole of a creature, a sap on the world so long as you’re not fulfilling your duty, an insult to flesh and bone, nothing but darkness and hunger and waste and –

Shayne sat up in bed and squeezed his head between his hands. He’d gotten so used to Charlie’s constant presence and warmth, that he was already feeling unbearably lonely without him.

Stupid Charlie, he thought, feeling a flutter of affection in his chest as he pictured Charlie’s head resting on his shoulder. And then, a sinking feeling.

In the absence of Madelyn’s voice in his head, Shayne realised how… quiet everything else was. Ryan and Nancy were probably still travelling in Europe, but Elliott and Felix should have been here.

He’d half-expected Felix to come pounding on his door around this time, raving about whatever he was cooking and asking questions about Shayne’s Christmas. But the fact that the townhouse was this silent was extremely unpleasant.

Shayne let himself into the hallway, pausing and holding his breath, scanning for any signs of life. He could have done this easily if he’d been in a forest, but houses and urban settings were always trickier. He picked up a flash of something, a thrum of a heartbeat, but it sent his head spinning and he had to stop concentrating. It seemed to be coming from Elliott and Felix’s room, even though he hadn’t heard a single stir in there since he’d gotten home.

“Hello?” he asked softly, pushing the door open slowly.

He wasn’t surprised that it was cold in the bedroom beyond, but a breeze took him right in the face. Papers had been gently blown across the floor, and a vase holding a fake rose had been knocked from the windowsill onto the floor.

Nobody was in here. This wasn’t where he’d sensed somebody.

The view of the town was incredible from this height, four storeys up. It was around dusk, so there were lights blinking to life in houses and office buildings even as Shayne stood by the open window and rested his hands on the sill.

“Elliott?” he called out quietly, leaning his head outside. The distance from his face to the street below was dizzying.

“The fuck do you want?” came a curt reply, which made Shayne look to his right. The moulding on the outside of the building was about a metre wide, enough for Elliott to slump against the brick wall with a glass balanced on his knee and a bottle grasped in the opposite hand.

His hair was loose of its usual ponytail, as well as being greasy and dishevelled from having fingers constantly dragged through it. He was scraping it back with his left hand at that very moment, eyes glazed over as he looked up at the sky.

“When’d you get back?”

“Uh, today. Earlier.” Shayne could hear how high-pitched his voice had gotten, but what could he do about it? He couldn’t stop wondering how Elliott’s weight wasn’t forcing him to slink further down, legs pulling him over the edge. “El, what are you doing? Someone’s gonna see you out there.”

“So?” Elliott shrugged. “Maybe I’ll become a Reddit legend.”

“I have no idea what that means,” Shayne sighed. “What’re you doing out there? Are you okay?”

Elliott blinked, the motion slowed by the darkness and an unknown amount of whisky. “Come here, and I’ll show you.”

Shayne would have really preferred not to, but it didn’t look like Elliott was coming to him anytime soon. He turned around and sat up into the windowsill, slowly shifting his legs around so his feet touched the moulding. He breathed hard, tried not to look at the fall below, and told himself that if it could hold Elliott’s weight, it could hold his.

“You know, inside, there are floors and – and chairs,” he stammered, edging closer to Elliott before lowering himself to a seated position. He didn’t slump like Elliott though; his hands were pressing the concrete, stiff as pillars. “Lots of nicer and safer places to sit and drink whisky.”

“Mmph.”

The words barely seemed to reach Elliott’s ears.

“So, what’s up?” Shayne asked.

When Elliott smiled, it was a sick thing that twisted the lower half of his face without touching the rest. He looked past the rim of his glass and out across the town. Shayne wouldn’t have been surprised if his glare had caused a sudden flash of lightning to tear through the clouds.

The silence seemed to press in further, the sound of traffic fading away as though a bubble had descended on the rooftop.

“Where’s… Felix?” Shayne already had the feeling that the answer wasn’t going to be good.

“I don’t know.” Elliott pursed his lips. “Think he’s left me.”

A cold stone seemed to drop through Shayne’s stomach. He couldn’t begin to imagine what the equivalent of that felt like for Elliott. “What? Why?”

After a slight roll of his eyes, Elliott reached into the pocket of his trousers, fidgeting with something before pulling out a ring. He twirled it between his thumb and his figure, examining it up-close for a second before holding it out.

“Oh.” Shayne eyed the ring for a moment before reluctantly lifting one hand – one of his supportive pillars – and letting Elliott place it in his palm. “I take it he said no?”

“No, he didn’t say no. He didn’t say… anything.”

“Is that – is that better, or worse?”

“Fuck if I know.”

“Sorry, El.” Shayne gulped and stared at the ring, only managing to hold onto it for a couple of seconds. Elliott had already taken his eyes off of it, his attention snagged by his drink again. A slight breeze across his skin made Shayne shudder, as though it could possibly throw him off balance. Mostly, it was just cold and unpleasant. “Here, take it back. I’m gonna drop it or something.”

“Why would you drop it?” Elliott asked with a grunt, reaching to pick up the ring. His fingertips lingered a moment as he realised how badly Shayne’s hand was trembling. “Fuck, man, are you okay?”

“Mmm.” Shayne put his hand down next to him again, fingers aching under the pressure he was putting on them.

“What’s up?” Elliott scoffed lightly. “You gonna hurl?”

“Maybe,” Shayne admitted. “I’ve never been up this high before.”

“Jesus, you’re such a drama queen.” Elliott planted a hand down and pushed himself to his feet. His movements were as swift and graceful as a panther, even while drunk, and he seemed to tower unreasonably high over Shayne as he straightened his back and stretched his arms over his head. He almost reached the roof tiles that jutted out over the top floor. A strong gust of wind could probably have toppled him, especially considering how much whisky was probably flooding his system.

Elliott’s feet made a scraping sound on the concrete as he lowered his arms, laughing deep in his chest.

“Elliott, stop! Just sit the fuck down.”

“Why?” Elliott’s voice was no stronger than a breath. He closed his eyes for a worrying amount of time, his shoulders swaying slightly as his arms hung by his side like weights. “Would you care if I fell?”

Shayne got a sinking feeling, for what seemed like the hundredth time in ten minutes. “What kind of question is that?”

“Do you think I’d die, actually?” Elliott perked up again, unnervingly so. He opened his eyes and lifted his glass slightly. He craned his neck to look over the edge of the moulding. He hummed, like he was pondering whether he should buy a pair of shoes in black or in brown. “I’m fairly sure that fully-developed vampires can only die if they’re burned alive, but… I wonder how thoroughly that’s been tested.”

“Elliott –”

“I’ve had a decent run. In human years, I’m almost seventy, you know? That’s longer than a lot of people end up with…”

Shayne didn’t know if he should have been trying to grab Elliott to stop him from teetering so close to the edge, or if that would make everything worse. He could barely breathe, let alone think.

“It’d still fucking hurt either way, though.” Elliott threw back the last mouthful of his drink and smacked his lips. “Bones poking up through my organs, probably bits of me exploding on impact –”

“Elliott, seriously, you’re just being an asshole now, just sit down!”

“Would it make him come back, if I was injured like that?” Elliott demanded, his golden eyes piercing and intense. He was beginning to lapse into clumsy arm gestures, his voice rising higher with emotion. “Would it put everything into perspective, Shayne? Would it fix everyone’s problems if I was maimed? Or if I was completely and utterly de–?”

Shayne’s stomach turned, his hands flying to his face, as the whisky glass shuddered and dropped out of Elliott’s hand. It disappeared from view, faster than the sick grin could fall from Elliott’s face.

The shatter was tiny; Shayne had to really strain his ears to hear it. He watched Elliott blink tears down his face and slowly lower himself to his haunches. He opened his mouth wide, like he was going to scream, but no sound came out.

“Hey,” Shayne whispered, letting go of a breath he hadn’t known he’d been holding. He stretched out one hand, trying to gently catch Elliott’s attention. “El. Elliott.”

Elliott didn’t move. He stayed crouched, one hand gripping the edge of the moulding, his face hovering over the side. When he blinked, tears fell and missed the building completely, dropping straight to the sidewalk that was four storeys down. 

“El, come on.”

All the way down to the sidewalk –

“Elliott.”

He turned his head, swaying a little, and for a moment Shayne thought that was it, that he was gone, he’d lost his balance. Shayne sat forward on his heels, instinctively making an uncalculated grab for his cousin’s hand, but luckily Elliott was reaching back too; two fumbling hands happened to fumble in the right directions at the right time.

“Fuck,” Elliott whimpered, steadying himself on his feet again. Shayne could feel both their pulses in their joined hands, Elliott’s almost explosive. “We should… We should probably get off this thing.”

“Oh, you think?” Shayne snapped, though he clung to Elliott’s hand like a toddler to a parent as the two of them edged back over towards the window. He hopped in through the window first, turning to make sure Elliott was following him. The taller man hit his head on the open window, making the frame shudder as he shut his eyes and winced.

“Shit, are you okay?” Shayne held out a hand to help him make it the rest of the way.

“I’m fine, get off me,” Elliott growled, shoving Shayne away from him and storming over to the bed.

“Fuck heights,” Shayne murmured, pulling the window shut with more force than was probably necessary. It released some of the fear that had been pinching his nerves though, and his head felt clearer. “We should probably go down to the street and clean that glass up before someone –”

“Shut up.”

Shayne shrugged, gazing at Elliott as he sat at the edge of his bed, head resting in his hands. “Is – is your head okay, or –?”

“What’d I just say?”

“You said to shut up, but how the fuck do you expect me not to ask you if you’re okay? You almost fell off the fucking… roof!” Shayne smacked his hand on the bedpost as he walked by, partially on purpose. “Fuck you, Elliott.”

“Calm down, man,” Elliott snarled, his head shooting up from his hands. “Come on, you seriously think that’s the closest I’ve ever come to dying?”

“You can’t…” Shayne stopped by the door to the hallway, eyes lowered. “You can’t do shit like that, you can’t talk like that. I don’t care if he’s left you, if the world’s falling to shit, if you think nobody cares about you being around, you can’t…”

A sob broke the air, and Shayne froze, turning to watch as Elliott hunched over at the edge of the bed, his head ducking and disappearing from his silhouette.

“I’m… sorry.”

Having never heard such a heart-wrenching sound from Elliott before, Shayne found himself hurrying back to the bed. He sat down next to Elliott and let him sink his head against his shoulder and cry, his body convulsing with what seemed to be days’ worth of pent-up agony and sadness. Shayne felt utterly useless; he couldn’t guarantee that everything would be alright with Felix, because how the hell could he possibly know that?

“Ugh, fuck,” Elliott exclaimed, his shoulders jerking forward with a sob so deep that it sounded more like a hiccup. He clamped a hand over his mouth, the other lifting to tentatively cover the front of his head, where he’d hit it on the window.

“You okay, man?” Shayne asked hoarsely.

Elliott shook his head, face paling even in the dull light.

“You gonna hurl?” Shayne murmured, wondering if the irony would be lost on Elliott in his current state. He was already getting to his feet, remembering that Felix kept a metal bin under his desk.

“Mmmph.” Elliott nodded furiously, only releasing his mouth from his hand once Shayne had thrust the bin at him. Saliva glistened on his lips as he hovered, breathing heavily. His eyes were red and swollen and he was still gently kneading his head.

A deep retch rolled his shoulders and made him duck his head further into the bin. Shayne grimaced and almost put a hand on Elliott’s shoulder before remembering that that would have been a terrible idea. He stood by the desk instead, arms folded around his waist, flinching in time with Elliott’s horrifying gagging.

When Elliott’s face resurfaced, he was gasping and spitting out mouthfuls of thick bile and saliva, tinged only slightly with the golden hue of the heavy liquor.

“Jesus,” he choked out. “How hard did I hit my head?”

After a disbelieving glance towards the window, Shayne scoffed. “Your head? What about the god-knows-how-much whisky in your system right now?”

“Alright, whatever,” Elliott groaned. He pawed at a thick strand of his hair that was stuck to the side of his face and trailing into the bin itself, tossing it over his shoulder. Just in time too, since the next retch was deep and abrupt and dragged a rumbling belch up alongside a gush of foamy alcohol and stomach acid.

Between gags, Elliott let thick liquid drip from his mouth into the bin, body shivering with the effort it took to bring everything up. It went on for so long that Shayne was certain Elliott was going to fall asleep with his head in the bin.

Eventually, Elliott sat upright, grabbing a tissue from the nightstand and dragging it across the lower half of his face. He tossed it into the bin and reached for another one.

“Want me to get you some water? Or, like, blood?”

“No.” Elliott sighed deeply, dropping the second tissue into the bin before he began to scoop his hair back from his face and neck. “I’ve been drinking on an empty stomach for two days. I wanna go get chips.”

“Chips?”

“Yes. Can you grab one of Felix’s scrunchies from his side?”

Shayne did as he was asked, mostly in a daze, rounding the bed to get to Felix’s bedside locker. There was a pile of hair ties sitting alongside a handheld cassette player.

“Can you even eat?” Shayne asked, leaning across the bed to hand one of the hair ties to Elliott. “You know, with all of your full-vampire shit going on?”

“Seriously, you little asshole?” Elliott snapped, his voice scratchy and weak. “My life is falling down around me and you’re trying to deny me chips?”

Shayne quickly shook his head, a little bit grateful for the bloodcurdling glare that Elliott was currently treating him to. He got up from the bed again as Elliott tended to his hair. “Let me just grab a jacket.”

[sonnet009]

Wilder: Royo’s Story (Route Summary)

PROLOGUE:

MC decides not to flee Ziya but to instead wait for the guards to arrive, trusting that justice and truth will prevail. She is promptly arrested and thrown in prison to await her execution.

CHAPTER I:

Weeks pass and MC grows weak and despondent. Then one day an audaciously dressed djinn appears, knocks out the guards, and rescues MC from her cell. The djinn introduces herself as Royo and says that she has been sent here by an important man with a lot of coin. Royo smuggles MC out of the palace in an empty wine barrel, barely keeping her cover intact when one of the palace servants treats her like a lowly slave.

Outside and in the clear MC learns to her dismay that Royo was not sent by Uncle Makram to bring MC home, but by some mysterious other man to whom Royo intends to take her. Unable to overpower her or call out for help without being sent straight back to the dungeon, MC reluctantly goes along with Royo who has a horse waiting to carry both of them away into the desert.

In the Shining Sands Royo and MC cross paths with slavers returning to the city. One of the men recognises MC and Royo kills all of them before they can cause trouble. MC is horrified but Royo only shrugs. “Problem solved, princess.”

CHAPTER II:

Royo takes MC up into the Western Hills in an attempt to shake off any potential pursuers. She refuses to divulge the identity of her employer and will say only that he is a man who believes in MC's innocence. MC asks if Royo believes she is innocent, but Royo only replies that she doesn't care. Suddenly the two women are surrounded by a hunting party of wild djinn. Royo whispers to MC that they should bide their time for now and allows the djinn to escort them to their leader.

The tribe's chief is quickly charmed by Royo and agrees to let them stay there for the night, though he insists that MC is tied to a tree. During dinner two djinn children come to bring MC some food. Royo later takes MC – hands still tied – to a river to wash the grime away, claiming that her employer will be annoyed if MC is delivered to him looking so disheveled. MC notes that Royo seems to be enjoying MC's humiliation. Royo doesn't deny it. After all, she had to endure debasement at the hands of humans for years. “You will survive one night of indignity, princess.”

In the night a sudden storm rolls in. One of the children MC met before is swept into the river but is only noticed by MC, and no one will listen to her. Unable to swim but with no choice, MC leaps into the river to save the child. She manages to drag him to the bank before collapsing. As soon as the storm passes, Royo insists that she and MC move on.

CHAPTER III:

Royo and MC head up into the mountains known as the Knives. Feeling weaker and weaker, injuries from her clumsy rescue throbbing, MC finally passes out and falls to the ground. When she wakes it is in a cave, lit by firelight, resting in Royo's lap. Royo, unaware she is awake, is murmuring apologies for not realising MC had a fever and commendations for being brave enough to jump in the river and insults for being stupid enough to jump in the river.

When MC reveals that she is awake Royo nearly jumps out of her skin. She caught some rabbits earlier and has been cooking them on the fire. The two eat dinner together and Royo finally opens up a little more. She explains that her employer is Yasir, a member of the Guild that rules the city of Umar. He is famous as the human who emancipated the djinn of Umar and has taken great interest in MC, who killed the shah in the name of the slaves. MC protests that she didn't kill the shah, not for the slaves or anyone, but Royo already knows. It's simply a rumour that Yasir wants to capitalise on.

Once MC has recovered she and Royo continue their journey, though now they are more at ease with each other. Royo hits MC with her first snowball. They bathe together in a hot spring. Royo checks MC's still-healing wounds and tells her, “Next time, count on me.” She also muses that the tribe will probably remember MC's actions for a long time. It's not the kind of revolutionary action that will force change on a grand scale, but it wasn't bad. For a princess.

CHAPTER IV:

Past the Knives now, on the way to the port town of Dijarah, Royo finally tells MC the truth about Yasir's expectations. He wants MC to marry him. MC is appalled. Royo is sympathetic but firm, insisting that Yasir is a great man and her best option.

She tells the story of her young life as a criminal, slave to a gang of thieves. One day she tried to rob Yasir, just a simple merchant back then, only to have him declare that, if she helped him, he would free not just her but everyone like her. It was like being reborn, she says with a profound solemnity. MC starts to wonder if Royo is in love with Yasir.

Hamza and his men ambush them on the road. Hamza overpowers Royo but is unprepared for the headbutt she plants on him. Fleeing with MC on her back, Royo gives the soldiers the slip and comes to rest in an old barn. Royo tells MC to sleep while she keeps watch for the night but MC instead chooses to stay awake by her side.

CHAPTER V:

Once they arrive in Dijarah Royo buys dinner for them both at a local inn. A drunk man bumps into them and takes offence to Royo's lack of subservience. Royo brushes him off and suggests to MC that they take in the sights at the Fish Festival that is happening tonight, though that means delaying their journey by a day. MC is touched that Royo would do that for her, though Royo denies any sentimentality.

During the festival they walk through the lively streets and Royo seems to be on a mission to give MC as many new experiences as she can. “I wish we could see more things like this,” she says quietly, but they both know that she cannot be swayed from her duty to Yasir. The drunkard from earlier reappears with his friends, hurling insults at Royo and threatening violence. Royo handily disarms him – his friends are no help – and sends them all running.

This incident has upset Royo in a way MC has never seen before. Royo says that she is sick of people like him. She is a free woman but they'll never see her as anything but beneath them. The next day she and MC board a ship bound for Umar, Royo distant and closed off again.

CHAPTER VI:

MC is treated like nobility on the ship, at Royo's insistence. Royo says it is what Yasir would want but MC suspects this is another way for Royo to distance herself from her. Every night MC sleeps in a luxurious cabin while Royo sleeps outside.

One day, alone on deck, MC is grabbed from behind by a mysterious figure who whispers into her ear, “Justice for the shah,” before pushing her overboard. Royo arrives in time to save her but does not see the would-be assassin. She investigates the ship but cannot find any passenger without an alibi. That night she sleeps on the floor in MC's cabin and they fall asleep holding hands, a vow to protect MC on Royo's lips.

Days pass with no further attempts on MC's life. Royo is stuck to MC like glue, but their unresolved issues turn this into a volatile situation. During an argument Royo nearly kisses MC, then backs off – horrified at herself – and leaves the room. While MC waits for her to return and sorts through her own feelings, the assassin slips into the room.

CHAPTER VII:

Though MC is injured in the ensuing struggle Royo returns in time to thwart the assassin – a man hired by Hamza to shadow MC and wait for the right moment to enact “justice”. While tending to MC's new wounds Royo berates herself for being a terrible escort so far. She admits that it's because she's starting to want not to hand MC over to Yasir.

Giving in to their growing passion and feeling the looming threat of their time journeying together coming to an end, MC and Royo embrace each other and spend the rest of the voyage together in MC's cabin. Royo calls it “making the most of the time we still have”.

But eventually their stolen time together must end. The ship reaches Umar and they disembark. Though pained, Royo makes sure MC knows that they can never speak of this or do it again.

CHAPTER VIII:

When MC is brought before Yasir, it is not him alone waiting for her. Hamza stands beside him, intent on arresting MC and taking her back to Ziya for her execution. With no other way to protect herself, MC accepts Yasir's marriage proposal on the spot and Hamza leaves to avoid a diplomatic incident. Yasir introduces MC to the Guild, the seven most important people in Umar who rule the city as one. Though they should be equal, Yasir clearly leads them.

Yasir throws a ball to celebrate the engagement. MC ends up fleeing to a guest room and Royo follows. Both longing for each other, they give in to temptation but soon stop when the miserable reality of the situation becomes too heavy to ignore.

The night before the wedding MC cannot sleep and wanders Yasir's manor, wanting nothing more than to find Royo and beg her to run away with her. She finds Royo in furtive conversation with another djinn and eavesdrops on them. Through this MC learns three devastating things: 1. Royo and her co-conspirators arranged for the shah of Ziya's murder. 2. They plan to kill Yasir tomorrow before the wedding. And 3. They intend to frame MC as the culprit, and Yasir as the second husband she has had killed.

CHAPTER IX:

The manor is too abuzz with wedding preparations for MC to find anyone who will listen to her. Yasir is cloistered in his chambers and has no interest in seeing her until just before the ceremony. When it is just her, Yasir and Royo in the room, MC is surprised when nothing happens. No assassination. Things are not going according to the plan she heard last night at all.

The wedding goes ahead, vows are spoken, but everything is suddenly interrupted by a number of black-clad and masked djinn who storm the ceremony. While one stabs Yasir through the heart, killing him, another attacks MC. Royo cries out, “No!” and shields MC from the dagger, taking the wound herself. As chaos erupts throughout the crowd MC only has eyes for Royo, cradling her as she bleeds out on the ground. Through shuddering breaths Royo tells MC that she wasn't supposed to be hurt. MC confronts her about the plan but Royo says she changed the plan, not wanting MC to be a pawn in anyone's plots anymore – especially not hers. MC doesn't understand why this has happened. Royo's final words before she is dragged away by guards is, “His...coffer...”

While Royo is confined to the dungeon, MC searches Yasir's chambers. She unlocks the golden coffer by his bed and finds a mountain of evidence that he was far from the good-hearted revolutionary he pretended to be. His freeing of the slaves was a political stunt and the ultimate goal was to have them slide back into chains over time. Royo must have discovered this some time ago and has been plotting his downfall ever since. Not just his, but the downfall of all the tyrants who would keep her people enslaved. The documents also implicate the Guild in a lot of shady practices. MC takes what she knows to them and promises not to expose them; she just has one demand...

BITTER END:

MC demands that Royo is freed and pardoned. The Guild accepts and gifts MC her late husband's manor and wealth as further insurance that she will not be a problem for them.

Royo stays with MC for a while while she recovers but living in the manor in wilful ignorance of the injustice still present in Umar and beyond becomes suffocating for her. One night MC catches her trying to slip away from their bed leaving behind only a note. Royo says that she has to go, has to see the change she wants in the world be done, but promises to return if she can.

SWEET END:

MC demands her late husband's place in the Guild. With little choice, they accept. MC uses her new power to free and pardon Royo. The two of them return to Yasir's (now MC's) manor and spend most of their time working together to draw up proposals to bring before the Guild, forcing them to enact real and lasting change for the djinn. The one MC is most excited to put in place would be increasing the Guild's number by making Royo a member.

MC and Royo make no secret of their relationship, now able to be lovers openly and without shame. Royo proposes marriage –  when enough time of “mourning” has passed, of course. The large scar Royo has from the wedding day has become both a point of pride for her and a reminder not to forget that she isn't alone in this anymore.

[vampire--dad]

For the Witcher Writers’ Circle prompt bingo!

Prompt: There was only one bed

Spoiler alert: Lambert’s an idiot and Aiden’s a little shit

——————

“What trouble have you gotten yourself into now, cat?”

Aiden smirks at the sound of a familiar voice as shouting and a volley of stones follow him out of the town. Two pairs of yellow eyes meet, accompanied with a cheeky grin and a shaken head.

“I’ll have you know I didn’t get myself into any trouble, wolf, I was dragged into the middle of an altercation in the tavern and did my best to settle it. The townspeople didn’t exactly take kindly to that,” Aiden says.

Lambert folds his arms and eyes the cat skeptically.

“Really? Are you sure you didn’t start the altercation?”

“I swear on my dear mother’s grave I didn’t start it. I just ended it… and a few lives in the process.”

The wolf growls and shakes his red hair, stomping past Aiden towards the gates of the town.

“I better still be getting paid. If you’ve fucked this up for the both of us, I’m selling your swords for some cheap whore and leaving you here.”

Aiden laughs. He knows all too well that Lambert’s threats are empty.

“You worry too much, wolf.”

They set up camp a few miles into the forest, far enough from the town that the cat shouldn’t be able to get himself into any more trouble. Aiden scowls as he searches his pack, muttering to himself angrily. Eventually, those mutterings develop into an accusation.

“Lambert, where’s my bedroll?”

The wolf shrugs without looking up from sharpening his sword.

“It should be in there somewhere. I didn’t touch it.”

“This isn’t funny, wolf, where is it?” Aiden hisses. That earns him a pointed look from the other witcher.

“And I’m not joking. I didn’t touch it,” he sneers.

“One of those bloody stable boys must have taken it. Fuck…”

“Keep looking,” the wolf says, inspecting the blade across his knees closely. “You’ve probably just buried it under all of your other shit.”

Aiden grumbles, “I’ve been looking for long enough. It’s not in there.”

“What do you want me to do about it?”

Aiden doesn’t respond. He glares at Lambert as the wolf stands and sheds himself of his armour. The wolf feels his sharpened eyes on his back and ignores it. The gaze drops when Aiden realises he’s been watching Lambert for a moment too long and his annoyance has dissolved into admiration for the wolf’s figure. Broad, strong shoulders, slim hips— Aiden stops himself and stands, busying himself so his mind doesn’t wander any further.

As Lambert lays down and tugs the covers over his shoulder, he suddenly feels a pang of guilt. A few feet away, he watches Aiden make an awkward face, run a hand through his sandy brown hair, and lay down on the grass, shifting and turning as he tries to get comfortable. The cat’s back is turned to him, so he doesn’t see the soft look of concern in the wolf’s eyes. It slips away the moment Lambert catches himself and a sharp exhale escapes him.

“Oh, for fuck’s sake, Aiden, you’re not sleeping on the ground.”

“Well, where the fuck else am I supposed to sleep, smartass?” Aiden replies.

Lambert huffs and pinches the bridge of his nose. He can’t believe he’s about to say this, but he can’t let his friend sleep on the ground in the open. He’ll catch a cold and he doesn’t need a whiny, snotty cat following him around.

“Come here.”

“What?”

“There’s room behind me. Just don’t do anything stupid.”

Aiden grins. He can’t resist a chance to poke fun at Lambert. It’s far too much fun to watch the wolf snarl at him.

“Lambert, if you were interested, all you had to do was ask.”

“Aiden.”

The cat only laughs and crawls over to the bedroll as Lambert turns away from him, slipping under the light blanket. His back presses against the wolf’s and all of a sudden Lambert’s face feels hot and his cheeks turn redder than his hair. He tries to ignore it. He doesn’t want to think about what that might mean. That’s terrifying. He doesn’t want to think about why he smiles every time Aiden straightens his swords on his back before they part for a hunt, why he lets Aiden know he doesn’t mean a word of the insults he hurls at him, why his eyes follow Aiden and he resists the urge to run his fingers through his hair when he wakes in the morning. He’s too caught up in his own thoughts to notice the cat hiding his own confusion. Aiden can’t close his eyes. He dares not move. Another brush against Lambert would break him. They lay in silence for a while. Neither sleep. Both minds are racing.

Aiden eventually gets it through his own head that if he doesn’t do something now, he’s never going to. He shifts and quickly pulls Lambert against his chest, his arm slung over the wolf’s waist and coming up to press his palm over his heart. Lambert tenses, his eyes wide as he tries to summon the words to force Aiden off of him, but… he can’t. With Aiden this close to him he has to face the fact that he’s wanted this for longer than he could admit. He slowly relaxes into the cat’s arms, his hand rising to rest atop Aiden’s. Lambert feels him chuckle.

“Comfortable, pup?”

“Shut up and go to sleep.”

Lambert wakes first, finding himself in a tangle of limbs and blankets. He’s somehow turned over in Aiden’s arms, now clutching the cat to his chest. Aiden’s leg is slung over his hip, holding him closer. He’s glad the cat is still purring away and sleeping soundly as he reconciles with how this makes him feel.

He cares about Aiden. He can’t deny that, especially not while the man’s wrapped around him and snoring softly. He just… doesn’t know how to tell him. If he should tell him. Or if they should just carry on like nothing happened. Witchers can’t afford to be distracted by their feelings, it could cost them their life. He doesn’t want to put Aiden at risk like that.

“Mmhph… morning…”

Aiden shifts and nuzzles into Lambert’s chest. Then he chuckles sleepily.

“Your heart is pounding, wolf. If I didn’t know better, I’d say you were flustered. Do I really have that much of an effect on you?” he teases.

“Aiden,” Lambert hisses.

It comes out harsher than he meant it to. Aiden lifts his head from his chest, his face falling, pulling away from the wolf’s embrace. Perhaps this was a mistake. Lambert sighs and pulls him back, trying to put his thoughts in order so he can just say something.

“I didn’t… Melitele’s tits, Aiden, you… yes, I’m flustered,” Lambert stammers. “I… want this— I want you and that scares me. Because I don’t know if you feel the same or if you’re just messing with me. Because I don’t want to put you in more danger than you already are because I’m distracted and can’t pay enough attention to—”

“Lambert, stop. You’re rambling.” Aiden’s voice is soft and soothing. He brushes a stray curl from the wolf’s eyes tenderly. “I adore you. You’re an idiot sometimes and you’re useless when it comes to your emotions, but I do. Do you really think I would tease you the way I do if I didn’t feel the same? Do you think I would have turned over to hold you?”

“... I’m assuming the answer is no.”

Aiden laughs softly.

“You’re right. For once. And as for danger, we put ourselves in enough already by travelling together.”

“Yes, but—”

“Lambert, I’m not letting you push me away because you’re scared I’ll get hurt and it’ll break your heart. We’re witchers. Getting hurt is practically our job. You worry too much.”

The wolf opens his mouth to argue, but finds he can’t. His fingers glide across the ridges and indents on Aiden’s back, decades worth of scars. Not one witcher on the Continent isn’t riddled with scars. He and Aiden are no exception, and there will certainly be more to come. Aiden’s hands slide into his hair, running his fingers gently through the mess of red curls, and pull Lambert down into a kiss. The wolf melts into his touch. It ends far too soon, but Aiden isn’t finished with him yet.

“So,” he mumbles. The scar across his lip stretches as his face is drawn into a cheeky smile. Lambert can barely pay attention to what he’s saying when he can feel his breath on his lips. “Does this mean I don’t need to buy a new bedroll? Maybe it’s luck those stable boys stole mine, I quite like sharing—”

“Aiden.”

“What?”

“Shut up and kiss me.”

——————

Tags: @lovelyeskel @jaskierswolf @viking-raider

[ladynestaarcheron]

Invisible String - Chapter One

ao3 - ff.net - masterpost

back on my bullshit, y’all! got a new multi-chap. here’s a summary:

There's no love lost between Nesta Archeron and the Cauldron. It stole life from her, so she stole Death from it. But not long after the war, Nesta realizes it gave her something, too: a mate.

Nesta knows any gift the Cauldron gives her is only for the worst, and it doesn't take very much to see how, so she does her best to keep it to herself. When someone's truth magic reveals her secret, and a number of relationships pay the price, Nesta knows what she has to do: destroy the mating bond.

On her journey to new lands, Nesta learns her own soul and discovers how her fate is decided, and whether love works into that equation at all.

and without further ado here’s chapter one!

---

It is, like most things, not Nesta's fault when her mating secret gets out.

People mock her for that, she knows. Roll their eyes. She knows they think her childish, that she's not taking responsibility for her actions. But she rarely acts at all; perfectly content to sit quietly on an armchair by herself, reading a book. It's the whole rest of the world that seems determined to keep her from peace.

When she feels it dawn upon her, like a sort of snap in her soul, she innately knows something is wrong. It's not something she wants. Not that it's something she wants but doesn't think she deserves, not something she wants but not right now, just something she does not want.

First of all, the idea sickens her. Especially when she looks at Feyre. Her soul tied to another, whether she likes it or not. It's not equal, despite what her sister thinks. It can't be equal, not when there's centuries'-perhaps millenia's-worth of bloody history, of male violence and aggression. Playing into that makes her want to vomit.

Second, this is not her choice, as Feyre now loves to say. This is that thing's choice-the Cauldron. And obviously, something that hated Nesta as much as the Cauldron did doesn't want anything good for her. So it has to be the wrong choice.

And she knows it with every pulse of blood, every link of bone. He is wrong for her. It's to punish her; that's why the Cauldron did it. It looked and saw what would hurt her the most, hurt her loved ones the most. And forced him upon her.

Well. She's not going to have any hand in it. And she's kept that up for months, with not so much as a word to anyone, and avoiding him at all costs, so there's no chance of him confronting her about it, in case he suddenly changes his mind.

But Elain's got some ridiculous dinner planned, and she can't afford to risk hurting her anymore than she already has, so she goes. And he's there-they're all there.

Nesta sits by Elain, with their backs to the open window. Cassian is on the other end of the table, but he is pointedly looking anywhere but her. Especially at Mor, right next to him.

Fine. That's just fine. She doesn't care.

"This is delicious, Elain," Rhys says to her, and she beams at him, taking the dish and passing it to Azriel on her other side.

They compliment her in turn, more gentle than Nesta normally sees them. Even Amren. She knows Feyre, switching between gazing lovingly at Elain and surveying all of them from the head of the table with narrowed eyes, has something to do with it. While Nesta thinks she herself can never be too vigilant with Elain's feelings in her-er-fragile state, she's not sure she trusts Feyre to handle the situation properly.

As she tilts her head back to drink from the glass of wine she's poured herself, the gust of wind that blows in through the back window teases a strand out of her braid, and she knows she's right not to. Because Feyre stiffens, looks at her, and says, "What's that in your hair?"

Everyone turns to Nesta, and it's all she can do to keep her face from burning. "It's called a coronet," she says through gritted teeth, knowing full well that's not what Feyre means.

"No. That smell."

"Vanilla scented soap," she says coldly.

Feyre's mouth parts open a little. "Are you...mated?"

"Of course not," she snaps.

Nesta keeps her eyes determinedly away from them all-from their wide eyes, white faces. What right do they have, anyway?

Another slight breeze strengthens Nesta's scent in the room-and they can smell it on her. Smell him. And this ridiculous...this unwanted...bond.

"It's Az." Cassian's voice is flat, hollow, seems to echo in the otherwise silent room as they all register what he said.

Nesta doesn't entertain their silence. "Of course it is not," she says forcefully.

Morrigan lets out a small gasp. "It is," she says, voice catching.

Nesta swears inwardly. Her stupid truth magic. She had forgotten.

There's nowhere to look now. Not at either of her sister's faces-one desperately trying to catch her eye, one staring at her lap, unmoving; not at Rhysand and Amren looking at each other; not at Morrigan, whose eyes are flickering between her and Azriel; not Azriel himself, for she has never wanted anything to do with him and she will not start now; and most of all, not at Cassian.

In a most unbecoming display, Nesta, hands curled against the table, shoves herself backwards-Feyre flinches at the sound of the chair scraping against the floor-launches herself up, and, seething, sweeps violently out of the room.

She can barely see, for all the anger burning her vision. Can't hear, either, for the roar in her ears, but she knows her sister well enough not to be taken by surprise when she leaps out in front of her.

"Nesta!" Feyre cries. "I'm so sorry-I had no idea-I'm sorry, I-"

"When are you going to learn," she hisses, "not to intervene in matters that do not concern you?"

Feyre's eyes shine silver-this she did not expect. "I'm sorry-I thought-I thought-"

"I know what you thought."

"I'm sorry," she repeats miserably.

Nesta doesn't reply. What is she supposed to say to Elain now? She probably won't show any anger; just retreat even further into herself. Wonderful.

"And Elain..." Feyre says. "Oh, this is all my fault, Nesta!"

"I know that," she snaps.

"I just thought..."

"I'm not interested in hearing your excuses." Her voice is a particular sort of harsh she never uses with her sister.

But Feyre, to her credit, does not flinch. She only closes her mouth, nods once, and says, quiet, sorrowful, "You're right."

This irritates Nesta even more. She knows she's right. She doesn't need to be told. "Go home. Do not talk to Elain," she says.

"Are you going to talk to her?"

"I need to think. Go home."

"What about-?"

"Do as I say." Nesta marches past her and makes her way to her apartment. The walk normally takes longer; she's there within a quarter hour.

She rips her scarf off and throws it down. It doesn't crash, obviously, just falls limply on the floor. Not satisfying. Does little to assuage her anger at...everything.

Such rage she feels. At Feyre for ruining the façade she had built. At circumstance. At Azriel, for existing, for allowing a blossoming something to occur between him and Elain when he knew, he knew they had this stupid bond and obviously that could only ever end in one way: her sister's heartbreak.

And at Cassian. Whenever she leaves her apartment, she can feel his presence somewhere above her, tracking her. He'll find some way to corner her whenever she drags herself to Feyre's house, to irritate her or try to provoke her. How she'd hiss at him and hurl insults to get him to leave her alone. And now what is it that has stopped his incessant obsession of finding her wherever she hides? This thing that she didn't even choose. It's honestly disrespectful, above all. Irking her was his favorite pastime until now, only because she's been marked by some ancient thing.

Then she feels more anger at Azriel, because a part of her isn't angry, it's sorrowful and pitying, and then she realizes-that isn't her. That feeling inside of her own body-it isn't hers! It's his!

And it's...close.

Nesta whips around and rips open her door, some tiny bit of her hoping she is wrong about who it is.

She isn't.

"I came to see how you're doing," he says, in that low, cold voice of his. Cold enough to make her shiver. For all the wrong reasons. Perhaps it takes time to get used to, but they've barely ever spoken.

"I'm fine," she says shortly. Then, "You should not have come."

"We need to talk."

"We do not."

He doesn't offer a retort, only stares at her. If she couldn't feel his ever-present sadness, she wouldn't be able to read him at all.

"I would like to talk, please," he says finally.

Nesta locks her jaw but steps aside to let him pass. He sits down on one of her couches, wings drawn tight against his back-she does not have any of their big armchairs to accommodate them. She takes her seat across from him.

She has not been alone with him very often, but every time, she is struck anew by how it feels when they are together. It feels...like nothing at all. No, worse than nothing. Because this is a mistake. Some magnet inside of her is pulling them together...but she doesn't want it.

"I'm sorry this happened," he says. "I should have taken better precautions. I know we agreed...to keep this between us."

The one time they had spoken, he means. When they both felt the bond snap into place. She had not known what it was, how it worked. He had explained it all to her. Naturally, she had been horrified.

"So now...we're...we're just... we have to..."

"No," he had said firmly. "We don't have to do anything. The mating bond...it's always going to be there. A part of you-us. But we can just ignore it."

"We can ignore it?" Nesta asks, thinking of when she had watched her sister and her own mate, before they had gotten together. Even then Nesta had thought their connection remarkable, how they moved in sync with each other.

She'd been horrified, even without knowing any magic was involved.

"We can," he said. Hesitated. "It's...it might be...there'll always be a pull. But we don't...care for each other like that. So it shouldn't really affect you too much."

"And you?" she'd asked.

"It won't affect me either," he said forcefully.

But he had been wrong. It has affected her-and now it's ruined her.

"What other precautions would you have taken?" she asks. "Was there something we weren't doing?" For she knows they did everything they could. They kept apart, never even spoke about each other to anyone. Everything taken care of...but her meddling baby sister.

He doesn't answer, but she can feel him begrudgingly accept her words. How she loathes this-this invasive, parasitic feeling. It's not as miserable as it might be, of course, neither of them are Daemati, so they aren't constantly bombarded with each other's thoughts like Feyre and Rhysand, but his presence in her mind...his emotions...like she never has a minute to herself anymore.

And he's so cold. Every part of him is so cold. Even when he's happy-when he's listening to Elain chatter about her garden or training with Cassian or doing whatever the hell with Morrigan, whatever she does in her spare time-even then it's a detached, guarded sort of feeling.

"I wanted to tell you I understand you're upset, but there's no reason why things have to change."

Nesta looks at him sharply. "What is that supposed to mean?"

"We are still in agreement regarding our own relationship," he says evenly, "and I know...well, this doesn't have to affect any other relationships we may have."

"Did you come here for reassurance from me? Because you're not going to get any," she says, blunt.

"I believe I was reassuring you."

"You forget," Nesta says, a grim set to her face, "I know when you're lying."

He gives her a rueful smile. "So you do."

They sit in silence for a few minutes before Nesta says, "Look, Elain just needs some space. She's private. But I'll talk to her tomorrow and explain."

He doesn't answer. Why he bothers pretending like he doesn't fancy her sister around her, she doesn't quite understand.

It's not that Nesta wants him to have a relationship with Elain. It's just that she needs Elain to know that there is nothing going on between the two of them and there never has been and there never will be. She tells him as much.

"You are at perfect liberty to tell your sister anything you desire, of course," he says, but she can feel his relief.

"All right," she says, standing up. "That's settled. It'll be fine. But they'll all see we've been this way for months and nothing has happened so nothing needs to change."

"Right."

"Your coming here to speak to me is an outlier," she says. "You should tell them that."

"Would you like me to tell someone?"

Nesta clenches her fists. His tone is careful, measured, but it doesn't matter, because she knows what he's asking.

And her answer is no. Not even a little bit.

"Tell Feyre," she says, "so she doesn't get any more prying ideas."

He nods his head once. He doesn't like how she speaks of Feyre, she knows, but he doesn't say anything, which she appreciates.

Besides, she realizes, pleasantly surprised, he's not too happy with her either.

---

Nesta lets herself into Feyre's riverfront home after a trek through the gardens reveals Elain is inside. Mercifully, she makes it to her room without bumping into anyone.

Perhaps it's less mercy and more everyone is avoiding her, but no matter. She doesn't care. In fact, she prefers it this way.

"Elain?" she calls, knocking softly on her door. She opens it slowly and peeks her head in.

Her sister is lying on her bed, still in her nightthings. She stirs as Nesta sits down next to her.

"Nesta," she says sleepily.

"You're still in bed?" Perhaps her optimism from last night's conversation with Azriel is misplaced.

"No, no, I was just taking a nap."

She's...lying. Elain is lying to her.

And she's in bed at one o' clock in the afternoon.

"Oh," Nesta says. "Well. I just came to talk to you..."

"There's nothing to say," Elain says.

Nesta bites the inside of her cheek. "Yes there is. I need to tell you that Azriel and I are not in a relationship."

"Oh, Nesta-"

"And we don't ever want to be in one."

"It's none of my business, of course-"

"Don't be ridiculous," Nesta says, slightly bewildered. Elain had very much considered Nesta's two or three suitors entirely her business when they were silly human girls; why should this be any different? "But it's not real, anyway. It's a mistake."

Elain goes very still. "It's not," she says quietly.

"Of course it is."

"It is not."

Right. Because the Cauldron loved Elain. So Elain...what, worships that vile thing like everyone else here?

"I think I'm going to shower," Elain says, voice falsely bright. "Are you going to spend the day here?"

Nesta starts at the sudden dismissal. "I...no."

"Oh," Elain says, enough disappointment in her tone that anyone who doesn't know her as well as Nesta does would believe it. "Well, I'll see you soon. And please don't worry, Nesta, dear. Everything's quite all right."

With that, she hurries into the bathroom and shuts the door behind her.

So perhaps, Nesta muses to herself on her walk home, she was wrong about how much time she should give Elain. Perhaps tomorrow she'll be more willing to talk.

Except she isn't.

And not the next day, either, and not the whole week after.

And Cassian's not springing up around the city anymore.

It's only Feyre who talks to her, too much guilt and uncertainty in her darting eyes telling her far more than her words do when Nesta asks her would-be-casually why her Inner Circle no longer stalks various of her favorite haunts and why does she think Elain has once again taken ill and is missing their lunch.

Well. Feyre might stutter through a non-answer, but Nesta knows exactly what the matter is. And she might not know how to solve it herself, but she knows who does.

So three weeks after her secret is let out, Nesta books passage to the Spring Court.

---

Chapter Two

[whaleiumsharkspeare]

I was so inspired by the headcanon made by @letthemsayfuck and expanded upon by @newsies-of-corona about Varian’s season 3 outfit that I had to write a quick one shot about it! It was such a cute idea and I couldn’t get it out of my head, I had to write it down. Hope you enjoy!

New Threads

It had been a couple weeks since Rapunzel had returned to Corona, and things were starting to return to normal after the Saporian attack had been quelled. Well, almost normal. Thanks to the attack, Frederic and Ariana were not currently fit to rule since their memories hadn’t yet been restored, and as a result, Rapunzel was now the acting queen of Corona. The people of the kingdom were grateful to have their beloved princess back, and Rapunzel was happy to be back as well, even if there was a certain empty spot in the castle that was hard to ignore. Coming back to Corona after losing a friend was hard, but even though she’d lost one friend, Rapunzel was happy to have gained back another one. Now that Varian had turned over a new leaf and was back on the right side of history, he and Rapunzel had managed to start laying down the bricks of their rebuilt friendship. He was a lot happier now that his father was free, and he was almost never not by his side, stuck to him like glue. Rapunzel was happy for him. She’d truly felt awful that she had let him down all those months ago after being unable to save his father, and watching Varian go down that dark road, feeling so lost and broken, had been difficult. Rapunzel never, ever broke a promise, so finally being able to keep hers had been a wonderful feeling. But even though Rapunzel still cared greatly for Varian and had forgiven him for his misdeeds, it didn’t mean that the kingdom had. Varian had never exactly been a very popular boy, not very well-liked in his village, and now he was reviled even more. True, Varian had helped save the kingdom from the Saporians, but not everyone in Corona was as quick to forgive as their princess. Varian couldn’t hardly go anywhere alone without having insults and sometimes objects hurled his way, so he hadn’t been around much since Rapunzel came back. As a result, if Rapunzel wanted to see him, she had to go visit Varian in his own home. Today was one of those days. Rapunzel journeyed happily to Old Corona, hoping to see her young friend. As she walked through the village, the people who had come back after being displaced smiled and waved at their beloved princess. She returned their greetings, happy to see her subjects out and about. She climbed the familiar steps of Varian’s home and knocked on the door.

“Oh, Princess!” Quirin greeted, opening the door.

“Hello, Quirin!” Rapunzel smiled. “How are you?”

“I’m doing much better, thanks to you.”

“That’s great to hear. I’m really glad I could help,” said Rapunzel. “Is Varian home?”

“Yes, he’s home,” Quirin replied. “He’s in his lab. You can go on in.”

“Thank you!”

“Thank you, Princess,” said Quirin as he stepped aside to let Rapunzel in. She smiled as she walked past him and went over to Varian’s lab. She stood outside the door for a moment, listening to the familiar sounds of Varian’s tinkering. She closed her eyes briefly, remembering her friend of before. But he was still her friend, and hearing the usual cacophony of his lab helped her remember that. She pushed open the door and went inside. Looking around, she spotted him in the corner working on some new machine she hadn’t seen before.

“Hi, Varian!” she said brightly. He looked up suddenly from his work.

“Oh, Rapunzel! Hi!” he looked at her with a smile on his face.

“What are you working on?” she asked as she peered at his machine in curiosity.

“Oh, this?” he stepped aside to give her a better view. “This is my newest invention. It’s a machine that’s designed to reverse the effects of the Saporian memory wand and restore your parents’ memories, since I, well...” he trailed off, his smile fading. After a moment, he sighed softly. “I’m sorry, Rapunzel.”

“It’s...well, it’s not really okay, but I trust that you’ll figure something out. You’re a smart guy. You can fix this,” she assured him.

“Thanks. For...for trusting me,” said Varian quietly. “I-I know I don’t really deserve your trust, but-“

“Varian,” Rapunzel gently interrupted. He looked up at her. “I know you feel sorry about everything. And the fact that you’re working to help me already shows me that you’re worthy of being trusted.” He gave her a little smile.

“Thanks.” He loosened up a little after previously feeling a bit tense. “So, uh, what are you doing here?”

“I just thought I’d come and check up on you, see how you’re doing,” Rapunzel replied. “Do you need any help with your machine?”

“Actually,” said Varian, his eyes brightening. “If you could pass me my tools when I need them, that’d be great.”

“You got it!” Rapunzel said cheerfully, handing him a screwdriver.

Rapunzel spent the rest of the afternoon in the lab with Varian, helping him out with his machine, watching him work, and listening to him explaining its function with rapt attention. He also talked a lot about the past couple weeks that he’d been reunited with his dad. He spoke excitedly about how happy he was to be back and how much he missed the simple things they used to do together, like having dinner in the evening, but how glad he was to get to do them again. Rapunzel loved listening to Varian talk about the things that he was passionate about, and hearing his sweet laughter again after so long was a pleasant and beautiful sound. Watching him work and hearing him talk, it made Rapunzel feel like nothing had changed. But things had changed, even in very subtle ways, and there were many indicators about just how much time had passed. As Rapunzel watched Varian tinker away on his machine, she noticed that he wasn’t quite so little anymore. Granted, he was still a “little guy”, as Eugene had called him, but Varian had grown. He was taller than he had been the last time she’d seen him all those months ago before she left. It was evident in where he now stood in comparison to Rapunzel and in the way she noticed him absentmindedly tugging on the sleeves of his faded blue shirt every now and then, as if trying to bring them down further on his arms. It could have also been a subconscious desire to cover his hands, since he was now working with his hands exposed because the black gloves he used to wear had melted off while Rapunzel was in her trance. Looking at him, she could tell why he always wore those gloves, since working without them had left behind tiny cuts on his hands from the lack of protection from his alchemy and metalwork. Really, he had simply started to outgrow his outfit. Even though Rapunzel could tell that Varian was a little bit skinnier now as a result of eating nothing but the prison food for months on end, she still noticed that his old blue shirt was starting to be too small. The way Varian shifted his feet around while standing and talking indicated that his shoes were too small as well. And even if his clothes fit him perfectly, the patched sleeve of his shirt and the old, worn fabric were signs enough that he was in need of a new outfit.

Surely he must be uncomfortable she thought as she watched him working. Then, realization struck her and her heart sank as she thought about why Varian was still putting up with clothes that weren’t exactly fit to be worn anymore. Not everyone in the kingdom had forgiven Varian yet. There were still some people who were harboring fresh wounds and weren’t ready to extend him a helping hand yet. He couldn’t even walk around without his dad nearby for fear of being harassed in some way. Even if Varian wanted to go out shopping and buy himself some new clothes, he couldn’t do it without facing persecution from the citizens who were still angry with him. But not everyone was upset. Rapunzel saw in him a good heart and she knew he had changed for real, and when she saw that a friend was in need, well, she couldn’t just sit idly by without trying to help. So when it was time to leave and she told Varian goodbye, she headed straight back to the castle with newfound determination and an idea burning in the back of her mind.

“Hey, Sunshine!” Eugene greeted warmly when she arrived back home. “How was your visit to Old Corona? Is Varian doing okay?”

“It was good,” she replied. “It was really good to see him. He’s doing a lot better. He’s back to inventing and doing alchemy.”

“That’s great to hear,” he said. “I’m glad the little guy is starting to become more like his old self.”

“I am too.” She smiled at the thought. But then she remembered what she’d been so fired up about. “Oh! I have to go see the royal seamstress,” Rapunzel said as she began walking off towards the beauty room where the seamstress worked.

“You planning on getting some new threads?” Eugene called after her.

“Something like that.”

Rapunzel entered the quarters where the seamstress worked, sewing up new clothes for the royal family. She looked around through the curtains of dresses and suits that hung all around.

“Faye?” she called.

There was a ruffling sound and a bundle of fabric was suddenly tossed through the air and a short woman with pins in her mouth poked her head out from behind some more rolls of fabric.

“Oh! Your highness!” said Faye, the seamstress. She took the pins out of her mouth and pushed them into the mini pincushion she wore on her wrist. “How can I help you? Is there something wrong with your dress?”

“Oh, no, it’s fine. Just as beautiful as ever! But I have a special request for you,” replied the princess. She took out her journal with a new painting on one of the pages and showed it to Faye. “Do you think you could make me something like this?”

Faye studied the picture Rapunzel had made, looking over all the details and specifications.

“Absolutely, Princess! I’ll get started right away.”

“Thank you, Faye!” Rapunzel said cheerfully. “I know it’ll be just great!”

***

A few days later, Rapunzel once again made the trek to Old Corona, this time with a package in her hands. She had a skip in her step as she thought about her little surprise. When she made it to Varian’s house, she entered his lab enthusiastically.

“Hi, Varian!” she announced, her voice bright.

“Oh, Rapunzel! I’m glad to see you,” said Varian. “I wanted to tell you more about my progress with the new machine.”

As he spoke, Rapunzel glanced down and noticed his hands.

“Hey, new gloves!” she observed.

“Oh, yeah,” said Varian, looking down. He was wearing a pair of new alchemy gloves, dark brown this time, with little pressure gauges on them. “Dad bought these for me the other day when he went into town. I had mentioned that it was harder doing my alchemy without gloves, and I guess he was worried that I would burn myself or something. But I’m glad to have them, it feels more normal. Anyway, I’m not quite finished with the machine yet, I’m still working out the kinks,” he said, rubbing the back of his neck awkwardly. “But in the meantime, I’ve been working on some potions that I think could help with restoring your parents’ memories. I’ve just gotta test them.”

“Sounds like you’ve been busy,” Rapunzel said.

“Yeah,” Varian agreed, laughing lightly. “So, what brings you here so soon after your last visit? Not that I’m not happy to see you,” he added quickly.

“Do I need a reason to come visit?” Rapunzel teased.

“I don’t know. Do you?”

“Maybe I just wanted to come say hi! But actually I do have a reason.” She brought the package out from behind her back and held it in front of her so Varian could see it. “I have something for you!”

“For me?” Varian looked down at the package in her hands in surprise. “W-why would you get me something?”

“Can’t I just be nice?”

“Of course, you’re always nice. But, why me?”

“Because I thought you could use it.”

“What is it?” Varian asked.

“You are seriously missing the point of a surprise,” Rapunzel replied. She pushed the package into his hands. “Just open it and see for yourself.”

Varian set the package down on a nearby table and used the sharp edge of one of his tools to open it up. He peered inside and his eyes went wide.

“Wait, Rapunzel, really? This is for me?”

“Of course! I hope you like it. I designed it myself and I had the royal seamstress sew it up based on my pattern. What do you think?” she asked. Varian lifted the carefully folded clothes from the box and held it up to himself.

“I, wow, I don’t know what to say.”

“Well, go on!” Rapunzel said, making a shooing motion with her hand. “Go try them on! Let’s see how it fits.”

Varian picked up the box and left his lab, going up the steps of his house and to his room. A few minutes later, Rapunzel could hear footsteps coming down the stairs and Varian came back into the lab, and Rapunzel smiled at his appearance. Instead of his old blue shirt with the patched sleeve and his pants with frayed edges, he was now wearing a new dark maroon vest with gold buttons going down either side, and underneath that was a beige long-sleeved shirt with a collar. He also had a new pair of pants and a belt, plus a new shorter tan apron that tied at the waist rather than higher up on his chest like his old one. He even had a new pair of boots, with a thicker toe on them to protect his feet better from broken glass or just the usual chronic clumsiness that Varian seemed to suffer from. Rapunzel’s eyes lit up when she saw him.

“Hey, you look great!” she complimented him warmly. She got up and looked him over. “That’s a nice color on you, and it looks like it fits you better than your old shirt. Hmm, except for the sleeves,” she noticed, seeing how the cuffs almost covered his fingers. “But that’s okay, we’ll just get you some sleeve garters to wear and it’ll help with that. How do your boots feel?”

“Rapunzel, I...I can’t accept this,” said Varian softly.

“Why not? Should I have gotten you blue instead? You seem to like blue.”

“No, it’s not that.” He paused briefly. “I just don’t deserve something like this.”

“Varian, why would you say that?”

“Rapunzel, just look at everything I’ve done. I-I stole the sundrop flower, I kidnapped the queen, I tried to hurt you, worse, even. I took over the kingdom, I erased your parents’ memories. Why would you want to be nice to me after everything I did? You saved my life, you saved my dad’s life. That’s more than I could ever ask for. Why would you keep on giving me things? I don’t deserve your gifts,” said Varian sadly, nervously rubbing at the too-long sleeve of his right arm. Rapunzel put her hands on his shoulders so he’d look at her.

“Varian, it’s true, you did a lot of things that hurt me. But I can see that you’re sorry for them, and you’re working to make up for them. I know you have a good heart and that you really are a good person. You had a pretty...rough patch, let’s say. But don’t think for one second that you’re any less valuable as a person because of it. You still deserve to be treated with kindness because I can see that you still want to give kindness to others, and you’re a human being just like everyone else. That means you make mistakes just like everyone else, and it means you deserve to be treated kindly just like everyone else. I know you’re mad at yourself and that takes time to get over, but please don’t think that you’re unworthy of love or friendship because of your past. What you need to focus on is the present. Don’t talk badly about one of my friends,” she said earnestly.

Friends. Varian’s eyes lit up at the word and he gave her a smile. He liked the sound of that. He took a step back and turned around to look at himself in a mirror in his lab. He smiled at his reflection, turning to look at himself from different angles.

“So, what do you think?” Rapunzel asked eagerly.

“I think...it looks good.”

“So you like it?

“Of course I like it.” He ran his hands over the fabric softly. He’d never had such fine clothes before. “And you’re right. This is a nice color,” he laughed lightly. He looked up at Rapunzel.

“Thank you, Princess.”

“You’re welcome, Varian,” she replied with a smile. She gave him a hug and she stuck around to listen to him talking about his further progress with his machine. When it was time to say goodbye, she waved and headed back to the castle. And for the rest of the day whenever Varian caught a glimpse of his reflection, he couldn’t help but smile.

***

Not too long after, Rapunzel decided to raise her kingdom’s spirits by bringing them together for a community project, namely to help rebuild the castle’s throne room after the Saporian attack had damaged it. Several members of the kingdom had volunteered to come, and Rapunzel was both surprised and delighted to see that Varian was one of them. Finally shaking off his fears of traveling to the capital city alone, he showed up at the castle with a backpack full of tools, ready to help.

“Hello, Varian! It’s good to see you out and about,” she said.

“Thanks. It’s good to be out and about. I know I’m a big part of why the throne room is damaged, and I’m sorry about that. But I’m ready to get to work rebuilding,” he replied.

“Well, thank you. I appreciate it. We can use all the help we can get.”

At that moment, Eugene entered the room and spotted Rapunzel talking to Varian. He looked him over in surprise.

“Varian! I like the new outfit! You’re looking sharp, buddy.”

“Thanks,” Varian replied with a smile. “New outfit, new day, new me.”

And it was true. The new, special clothes looked good on Varian, and not just because the color was nice. It was a different, more mature look and it reflected Varian’s growth, in more ways than one. It was still perfect for alchemy and inventing, he hadn’t lost that part of himself. He was still the same sweet boy he’d always been, but he was changed. He really was a new person, still with all his same quirks, but now he was bigger and stronger, and not just in size. His return to kindness had ushered in a new change, and change looked good.

Thanks for reading! I hope you enjoyed!

[avadescent]

Rivetra-Parent AU but modern is still lodged in my brain, so here’s Eren attempting to win a Science Fair.

Crossposted on AO3 w/ references

Eren bursts in through the front door like a high-powered locomotive on a one-way rail track, and as he kicks his shoes off expertly before striding into the meticulously polished threshold, Levi feels no need to act like an accommodating parent today and decides to leave Petra in charge of all the damage control.

She catches him by the sleeve before he can slither away from the kitchen however, and promptly threatens to make him sleep on the couch should he leave her to deal with their rambunctious thirteen year-old alone. Cleaning up is his specialty, after all.

Really, Levi thinks as he seats himself once more, Wives just have too much power sometimes.

“Eren!” Petra greets warmly as he rushes into the kitchen. Levi arches a brow, because Eren on a normal day is a big, bumbling, annoying idiot whose pent-up energy needs a thorough rain check; Eren today looks like even more of a big, bumbling idiot than usual.

This is not good.

“How was school today?” Petra ruffles his hair like nothing’s amiss and Levi shoots her a nasty look because he knows she knows that Eren’s firecracker energy today spells Impending Doom. Instead of giving them a colorful, sparkly show, Levi is quite sure they’ll be given an explosion and one hell of a kitchen to clean the longer they allow this overly excited version of their adopted son to linger.

“Good evening.”

The clear and pleasant (albeit slightly monotone) voice that greets them from the kitchen doorway causes Petra’s smile to widen even further—and Levi’s patience to wear thin.

“All right, spit it out,” he orders, crossing his arms in the hopes to get this over with as soon as possible. “What did you do this time?”

“Eren didn’t do anything!” another voice pipes up, a shock of blond peeking out from behind Mikasa’s scarf. When Levi’s perpetual glare settles on this poor, unsuspecting child, Armin hastily blurts out a mandatory: “Yet.”

“They just announced that the Science Fair’s coming up!” Eren informs, still too enthusiastic for Levi’s comfort, but that’s where Petra comes in.

“Are you planning to join the fair?” she asks, and to Mikasa and Armin, “Do your parents know that you’re here?”

“Yeah, but we had to go to Mikasa’s to ask for permission, that’s why I came home a little late,” Eren answers for his friends, his voice turning sheepish at the end, eyes darting nervously between his father and the floor (not that looking at the floor is alleviating his anxiousness in any way, Levi’s obsession with cleanliness stares him back in the face as glaringly as Levi’s gaze itself).

“So what,” his father bristles disapprovingly, “Are you going to build a baking soda volcano or something?”

“Or… something,” Eren supplies meagerly, and it doesn’t help that neither Mikasa nor Armin are offering any placating clarification or better yet: an explanation.

“And what exactly is this something?” Petra asks, god bless her soul.

“We’re still working out the details!” Armin says, now looking as nervous as Eren. “So is it all right if we stay for dinner… sir, ma’am?”

Before Levi can open his mouth to deliver the big fat No he’s been itching to deal out since Eren came crashing in, Petra shoves Eren and his friends in the direction of the stairs and says with what Levi can tell is genuine sweetness, “Of course! Levi will drive you guys home too, so don’t you go walking out in the streets at night, you hear?”

“Yeah, thanks!” Eren beams at her and then he’s rushing off with his friends to conspire. “Holler when dinner’s ready!”

“You mind the time, brat!” Levi snaps, having crossed the distance between him and his wife. “Either you come down on time for dinner or you’re getting leftovers.”

Eren blanches, and then he’s mock-saluting, used to his father’s attitude. “Aye aye, Captain!”

The kids disappear behind Eren’s door with a loud bang, and then Levi is whirling on his wife, displeasure evident in the crease of his brow. “You and I both know encouraging him was a bad idea.”

“For your kitchen, maybe,” she quips easily, all versions of his glare having lost its effect on her years ago.

“I’m not just talking about that,” he grouses in a tone that indicates he is just talking about that. 

“Young adolescents need encouragement!” is her defense, and then she’s pushing past him. “Especially around his age.”

“Who told you that?” he scoffs, “The Parent-Teacher Association?”

The way she blushes slightly is telling enough. “Seriously?” He sounds genuinely shocked.

“He’s entering high school now, I’m just trying to be a little more… lenient.” She shrugs, and he absent-mindedly brushes her hair back from her face when it falls forward with the motion of her cutting the vegetables. “Let him spread his wings and all.”

“At a Science Fair?” he replies incredulously. “You want him to end up like Shitty Glasses?”

“First of all, that is not how we regard friends in this household,” Petra scolds uselessly. “Second of all, why not? He seems excited about it.”

“Wait until he steals all your bleach to conduct hair-brained experiments,” he scoffs, and Petra rolls her eyes at his argument because the only one who cares for kidnapped bleach is him.

“Listen, they’re probably planning right now,” Petra begins.

“You mean Armin’s doing all the planning,” Levi interjects, grumbling.

“Exactly!” Petra beams like he just walked into her trap and he realizes a millisecond too late that he did. 

(Wives definitely have too much power.)

“Armin’s a smart boy and he knows how to keep Eren in check—remember that incident with the rock?”

She builds a solid argument and Levi has to admit that, albeit he does so with a bit of snark, flicking her hair like they’re still teenagers and sending her a complimentary ‘tch’ sound to put a cherry on top of all his irritation.

Her muffled laugh at his reaction serves as a familiar response, and as they settle into a comfortable rhythm in their kitchen as they always do, she looks up at him with a considerate smile and aims to bargain, “We’ll just trust him with whatever it is he plans to do, okay? He came asking us for permission, after all. Teenagers I know would have run off and done whatever it is they wanted to without asking for anyone’s permission.”

The reference to his days as a rogue in the outskirts of the city is plain as day, but as always Petra manages to make it seem like something worthy of admiration—something cool, and not at all something to be ashamed about. She’s always been one to see something for what it is, and Levi doesn’t doubt for a second that her admiration for him isn’t misguided at all, because he knows—he’s learned—all the ways that Petra is genuine, and this is one of the ways.

So even though he’s usually the one calling the shots around here, for a rare occasion, he relents and listens to her.

“You can keep him in line if he goes too far,” she continues, and she sounds so sure that nothing will go wrong that Levi almost believes her, “Since you’re the only one who can do that.”

He huffs, flicking her hair again. “Are you stupid?” he asks, and the question has bite but he manages to relay it in a way that sounds so incredibly fond, “You’re forgetting all the times he’s listened to you instead of me.”

“We’re even then.” She grins, and he’s a little surprised when she leans forward to press a chaste kiss to his cheek. “Thanks. You’re doing great.”

A thousand nights of doubting himself and his abilities as a caretaker weigh behind that last sentiment—a thousand nights of hurling insults into the sky at self-righteous parents who thought he was unfit for the job, a thousand nights of Petra sitting by him and letting him take his frustration out on the grimy state of their house’s outer walls because they were wrong, because for all his crass he would never walk away from his kid—and because this is Petra, he believes her.

And because this is Petra, he tilts his head to take advantage of their solitude, and dinner is delayed by a few minutes.

— 

“So,” Eren preludes, his grin still far too exuberant for Levi’s liking, “We have a plan!”

Armin nods in tandem with the announcement, but his mouth is too full of mashed potatoes that he has yet to provide any input into this so-called plan.

“All right, we’re listening.” Petra opens the floor for discussion with a slight wave of her knife, and Levi finds the unconscious action amusing. Maybe this is why he does all the threatening in their relationship. “But first, when’s the Science Fair?”

“Two weeks from now,” Mikasa informs. “Eren wants to generate biodiesel.”

Levi and Petra blink. “He wants to what?”

“We’re going to store used cooking oil and treat it to remove impurities, then we’re going to subject it to transesterification in order to produce biodiesel that we can use to power a toy car or something,” Armin rushes to explain, though the looks of impervious ignorance gracing the adults’ faces does not fade in the slightest, “We’re still working out the kinks, but it’s a solid plan and will most likely just take a week of trials, so we’ll be in time for the fair.”

“I’m making the posters,” Mikasa adds, as an afterthought.

“Hold on.” Petra shakes her head. “What’s this about biodiesel?”

“Biodiesel is an eco-friendly fuel source made from cooking oil!” Eren tells them enthusiastically, though he just sounds like he’s citing a Wikipedia article the way Hange prattles away about her experiments. Levi side-eyes Petra with a damning look of ‘I told you this would happen.’

“Basically it’s like gas,” Armin explains, always ready to back Eren up with solid fact. “But it isn’t harmful to the environment. We’re thinking of creating biodiesel for the Science Fair, because—”

“It’s sure to win!” Eren interjects animatedly. “We’re going to beat that horse-face Jean and his potato arc reactor if it’s the last thing I do!”

‘Arc reactor?’ Petra mouths confusedly, but Levi’s just as clueless as her.

“So basically…” Petra tries, and Levi continues her sentiment with a deadpan, “You want to turn my kitchen into a fucking power plant.”

A look of sure-fire guilt and hopeful excitement crosses Eren’s face at the fact that Levi understands exactly what they’re trying to do here—which could end in a disastrously good or a disastrously bad way, depending on how he takes it. (Eren made his friends promise to cross their fingers behind their backs while trying to convince Levi into allowing them to conduct experiments at home, just for that extra boost of luck.)

“Walk us through the methodology,” is the order that comes out of Levi’s mouth, but it’s leaning more towards that hopeful excitement than the sure-fire guilt from earlier, so Eren’s still revving in full throttle when he delivers a run-down of what he and Armin had discussed earlier, with the occasional input from Mikasa.

“We’re going to let Mikasa cook three hundred grams of chicken in three-hundred grams of oil,” he starts slowly, so as not to lose his parents—or himself—in the process of explaining their project. “Because Armin said it should be a one-to-one ratio.”

Levi nods like he understands, so Eren continues, “Then we’re going to heat up the used oil at sixty degrees for about an hour to remove any moisture or impurities.”

“Hold on. How are you going to do that?” Petra asks, her brows furrowed. “What equipment are you going to use?”

“We’re going to borrow flasks from Mom’s lab,” Armin supplies, “We’ll put the used oil inside, then we’re going to heat the flasks in a pot—kind of like a water bath for the oil.”

“And that’s it? It becomes biodiesel?”

“Um.” Armin flushes embarrassedly. “Not exactly. That’s still the… first step.”

“How are you going to generate biodiesel then?” Levi crosses his arms derisively, like this is the sign of Impending Doom he’d divined earlier.

“Well—we let it react,” Armin stutters, “With methanol. And sulfuric acid.”

There’s a long stretch of silence that pervades the dining table at the mention of hazardous chemicals, and Eren is tense the whole time, Armin quivering beside him and Mikasa coiled as though ready to spring into action at any moment, and some niggling part of these kids’ brains whispers in fright that maybe they’ll find a dinner table flying at their faces at any given moment now, even though Levi hates it when he has to clean up after broken glass.

It doesn’t help at all that Petra is simply staring at him lengthily, as though waiting for him to say something. That means she’ll agree with whatever he decides and if he decides they can’t do it then that’s a promising project going right down the drain. Eren crosses his fingers harder.

“You better make sure we don’t get food poisoning,” Levi finally says, spooning vegetables into his mouth, and at the verdict both Eren and Petra look like they’re ready to bring him the entire fucking moon.

— 

A few days later, Levi shuts the door in Hange’s face.

“Hey!” comes the muffled yell of outrage from outside. She seems to have brought bothersome company with her, because after that he’s being scolded.

“Levi, this is not how you should be treating your guests,” Erwin’s voice booms, but Levi can’t really bring himself to care, so he turns around and walks away, except he’s intercepted by Petra, who with her welcoming nature disrupts all his last-minute plans for a peaceful weekend.

“Hange, Erwin, wonderful to see you!” she greets, and the taller woman falls forward to press a grateful kiss to Petra’s cheek in return.

“Wonderful to see you too, unlike some people,” Hange gripes, and if he were any younger Levi probably would have flipped her off in reply. Instead, he just passes his handkerchief to his wife with a grave aura about him, pointing to his cheek when Petra tilts her head at him in confusion.

“Is Aunt Zoë here!?” Eren yells from upstairs, but his parents find no need to give him a positive response when they can already hear him thundering down the stairs. “Aunt Zoë!”

“My little titan looks like he’s grown so big!” Hange gushes, already accepting the firecracker that is Eren Ral into her open arms and swinging him around like a stuffed toy. Eren laughs, because then he’s swung into his Uncle Erwin’s arms too, who catches him with as much ease as it had taken Hange to pick him up. “What have you been feeding him, Petra? At this rate he’ll grow taller than Levi! You haven’t been giving him an overdose of Cherifer, have you?”

“The only person in overdose here is you, Shitty Glasses,” Levi grouses, and Hange flicks his forehead in return.

“Where’s Armin?” Erwin asks, setting Eren down. “We’ve brought all the materials he asked for from Hange’s lab, so you should be ready to start your experiment.”

Armin and Mikasa hurry from the stairs just as Erwin asks, and the former is beaming up at the man with unreserved gratitude. “Thanks Dad!”

“No problem,” Erwin replies, patting his head. “Eren, you help me carry the stuff from the car.”

“Yessir!” Eren rushes outside with Erwin in tow, and as they do so Mikasa tugs on Petra’s sleeve.

“What is it, dear?” Petra smiles, and Mikasa looks up at her, that overcast gaze clouded with a steely determination.

“Ms. Ral,” she starts, “Can you show me how to cook fried chicken?”

— 

The weekend is—and this is the understatement of the year—a Fucking Disaster.

Eren has managed to turn their kitchen into a laboratory this time, with a digital weighing scale plugged in next to the microwave and a big pot filled with three Erlenmeyer flasks settled upon Levi’s most prized possession: the induction stove.

He stands like a cactus in the corner of the kitchen—prickly and dry and harmful to anyone who comes within reach except maybe Petra—surveying the people who have invaded his home and who are now boiling three flasks of used cooking oil, methanol, and sulfuric acid inside his cooking pot.

He’ll have to buy a new cooking pot after this weekend if the way Hange’s leering over it is any indication.

Petra and Mikasa are situated by the stove, cooking batches of chicken thigh that Petra had him drive to the store to buy (he has to crack that Wife-Power thing before it does him in someday). Mikasa’s adept at learning and that applies here, as she whips out batch after batch of fried chicken and pours golden oil into a beaker for Hange to separate into a For Analysis test tube and a For Experiment flask.

Eren had tried to cook a chicken, but it had blackened as a consequence of his sporadic attention span.

So now he’s just the designated stirrer, since a water bath is these kids’ alternative for a three-neck batch reactor (as if Levi and Petra even know what the hell that is) and the reaction needs to be stirred constantly, according to Hange and Armin, who parrot each other frequently regarding the methodology that now everyone’s got it memorized. 

Even Levi, who stipulated earlier that he would not be helping them turn his kitchen into a disaster zone whilst raising a spray bottle of self-concocted cleaning solvent in their faces like he was going to shoot them with it any second.

The first time Armin tries to pour a batch of oil into a flask for pre-treatment he’s shaking so badly under Levi’s dead-eyed stare that he accidentally spills everything. Levi’s muttering a string of profanities as he proceeds to do self-designated clean-up duty. 

Erwin pats the boy on the back and when he tries for the second time, Eren notices his uncanny ability to pour just enough oil into a flask to make 250 mL.

That sort of diverges into a little side-experiment where Hange encourages Armin to pour oil at a variety of different volumes—20 mL, 50 mL, 150 mL, and so on—and it vaguely reminds Levi of a drinking party when they cheer every single time Armin gets the exact measurement after one try.

It takes Petra asking them in learned Levi-fashion “what they’re trying to do” that everyone remembers they’re here for a biodiesel experiment and not an experiment to test Armin’s Hidden Talent (even though Levi’s 110% sure Hange has an entire encyclopedia dedicated to her son’s growth alone, and that’s not including the record she’s probably kept of Eren over the years, from all his baby teeth down to every single nail clipping).

They go back to watching over the cooking-pot slash water-bath, and Hange yells bloody murder when she realizes they’ve let the temperature get to one-hundred—Levi moves in anticipation of a coming explosion but thankfully that doesn’t happen.

At some point Petra’s hand ghosts over his butt and he turns his head to snap at her for stealing his phone, but everyone’s suddenly back in Drinking Party mode as Petra records Mikasa flipping chicken thighs like they’re pancakes and aiming them at the plate Eren has raised a few feet away. Hange’s yelling in admiration and scribbling onto a notepad—Levi’s brows crease because since when did she have a notepad—and then Hange asks like it’s the end of the world: “How do you manage to make every chicken land on the plate?”

Mikasa turns in that aloof manner of hers that Levi can respect, and then she’s saying: “I’m good at calculating angles.”

That gets Hange’s undivided attention for the rest of the hour, with Eren trying to get her back on track with reasons along the lines of, “We’re not here to study Mikasa’s eyeballs, Aunt Zoë!”

Levi thinks that maybe they all would have been arrested right there and then if anyone else had heard it—for fuck’s sake Erwin is the goddamn Chief of Police, but all this so-called Chief-of-Police does is turn to look at Armin with a jovial smile and a politely asked, “So what’re we doing next?”

It’s midnight by the time Eren gets four rows of biodiesel samples to test on a toy car the next day—if he can wake up to greet the next day, that is—and it’s nearly one in the morning by the time Levi’s got the entire kitchen spotless and all the trash (including Hange and company) out the door.

He crashes into bed after a quick three-minute shower, and he can barely question why the heck Eren is in their bed too before Petra rolls to curl into his side, sound asleep. 

He sighs in reluctant compliance, but it’s easy to sink between the warmth of Petra and Eren at his sides, and when he drifts off to sleep he thinks the comfort is well-rewarded after a rather tiring day.

— 

The day of the Science Fair comes, and Levi looks bored as he scrutinizes all the other booths around them. He spots the mandatory baking soda volcano off to the side and decides Eren’s got this competition in the bag until he notices a horse-faced classmate flaunting some Potato Arc Reactor with much vigor. 

“That’s the horse-face you were talking about?” Levi asks incredulously, because he hadn’t expected Eren to be accurate in his observation of the other boy. Eren nods in a manner that can’t be described as anything else but “repulsed”, his eyebrows scrunching in the middle like he’s itching to just punch the boy in the face. Which Levi wouldn’t really mind—he thinks this fair could use a little more flair.

“Well I think you’re definitely going to win!” Petra cheers, and her positive energy is the only boost Eren needs because when the panel of judges comes strolling by he leads the presentation and the demonstration of his project with what Levi deems is adequate decency.

“You three really made that?” one of them jeers. “I don’t believe you for a second—you seem to have used chemicals unavailable to high schoolers. Did you solicit outside help for this experiment?”

Eren, dumb and determined as always, doesn’t disappoint when he snaps back, “The only people we asked were our parents, and the guidelines say we can ask our parents!”

Another judge narrows his eyes—Levi recognizes him as Nile Dok, that annoying prat who usually leads the Parent-Teacher Association meetings, and he feels inclined to punch this man in the face and break a few teeth when he whirls on Petra to ask, like he’s ready to persecute the lot of them for breaking the rules, “And what exactly were your contributions to this project, Ms. Ral?”

The man stumbles back in surprise when Petra levels him with a stern glare and a just as sternly said, “I simply showed them how to cook the chicken to get their used oil, Mr. Dok. Nothing more than that.”

“Hm.” He studies her for a long moment before turning to face Levi instead, which would have been a huge mistake if they hadn’t been within school premises and Levi had all the room to demonstrate just how many ways he could break this man’s teeth. “And you, Mr. Ral? Did you contribute in any way to your son’s project?”

“Hah? Of course I contributed.” He shifts his weight onto one foot, and with an air of nonchalance that manages to qualify Eren for first place in this stupid competition, he says with all seriousness: 

“I ate the chicken.”

[minimalintelligence]

This boat that's keeping us a float (4/...)

I have no idea what I'm doing still. And here we go again.

_______________

"Hey, you're finally awake." Grian yelled softly noticing that Doc had started to stir awake. Doc awoke but was still confused and wasn't quite sure where he was yet. The two had been sleeping on and off. So though much more rested than yesterday, they still both weren't fully energised. Doc grumbled and rubbed his eyes. The memories of what happened coming back to his memory quicker than before. "Is there anything to eat?" He muttered out followed by a yawn.

"Pickles or fish. Though the fish should probably burn in the sun before eating." Doc let out a chuckle at the way Grian phrased the sentence. "I'll make sure to send the fish straight to hell before eating." Grian let out a giggle before cringing and quieting down.

Doc sighed a bit. He knew that Grian wouldn't immediately be friendly to him but this was at least progress. Grian cleared his throat snapping Doc out of his thoughts. "So pi- Doc, do you have any idea where we are yet?"

Doc looked around. He noted that there were no more jagged rocks beneath them, or if there were any, they were too deep in the murky water to see. The only thing visible around them were small plots of land covered in sand. They were no bigger than maybe a square meter.

Doc let out an exasperated sigh. "No. Nothing here is remotely familiar." Both of them seemed to mumble something under their breath. After a few moments Grian turned to his side and started pulling in one of the fishing lines, the one that had caught something. The harder Grian pulled, the harder the thing seemed to resist. The boat tipped slightly towards the fishing line. Doc leaned out from under the ruff and looked and Grian, slightly concerned at the tipping of the boat. Grian gripped the line harder and attempted to pull. "You should let it go." Doc commented, a slight crease between his eyebrows. "It could have snagged on a rock." Grian let out a grunt of defiance, before tugging harder, his hands getting scratched and wounded. The thing caught on the line moved up slightly, before darting down quickly. Grian caught off guard, got pulled down along with it. The last thing he could hear before being plunged under water was Doc yelling out his name.

The darkness enveloped him as his eyes quickly started to sting because of the salt water around him. His first response was to drill his eyes shut but before he could the salt water traveled up his nose, making it feel as if his lungs were on fire. With one hand he let go of the rope and held his nose, blocking the airways. The saltwater entered the wound he had gotted on his hand from the metal line, making that hurt as well. Coming slightly to his senses, he let go of the line he had been holding with a death grip with his other hand and used that to orient himself.

Grian forced his eyes open and looked around trying to find the surface. His vision slowly went dark as the deafening silence enveloped him. Finally finding where the light was coming from he forced his body to move up towards it. After swimming up about two meters, just before breaching the surface his shoulder got grabbed and pulled quickly up into the boat.

"GOD! WHAT THE HELL! I TOLD YOU TO LET GO DUMBASS!" He heard Doc yell, his voice scratchy and panicked. Grian coughed out some water as Doc smacked him in the back. Everything was still fading in and out of Grian’s vision, his eyes glassy. The world was still slightly spotty and he felt numb. He could faintly hear Doc hurling insults, but it didn't quite sound like they were meant for him directly.

Another harsh smack and more water left Grian lungs. He suddenly took in a big breath of air before starting a coughing fit. Docs hits on Grian’s back turned into a light patting. Eventually Grian’s breathing regulated and he calmed down, now all he was left with was stinging pain. He cringed at the feeling of his fingers rubbing against the wounds on his hands and quickly stretched them open. Which inturn made Doc notice the wounds. Doc let out a string of curses under his breath, he reached over for a glass water bottle, ucaping it quickly and pouring the water over the wound, cleaning it up. Before placing the bottle to the side.

"Try to make sure you don't touch anything Gri." Doc said in a much calmer tone. He leaned back slightly and ran his hand through his hair. Grian would've commented on the nickname but he was still fairly out of it. Doc started saying something but Grian started spacing out. Staring at the wounds in his hands as some blood started pooling, as a result of this he only heard the end of Docs next statement which happened to be: "...strip."

Grian snapped his head in Doc's direction. His face had a red tinge for the first time this day. Confusion and slight offence etched into his features. "What did you say..?" He said slowly. Doc let out an annoyed sigh. "I need you to strip." Grian let out a squeak and flustered completely. "Why..WHY THE HECK WOULD I DO THAT?! I'M NOT GOING TO DO ANYTHING WITH YOU!" He scooted further from Doc full blown embarrassment on his face slightly masked by anger. Doc's face flustered as well as he sputtered through his next sentence. "THAT'S NOT WHAT I MEANT! Didn't you listen at all!?" He slammed his face into his hands before muttering some stuff under his breath. Whereas normally he would've just flirted with Grian at that statement, currently he was stressed and a bit out of his element. He usually wasn't the one healing and comforting others, it was usually others healing and comforting him, Ren probably had a few books dedicated to Doc's rants and vents.

Doc calmed down, he let out a breath and quickly explained once more. "Your clothes are soaked. The longer you stay in them the higher chance you'll get sick. I need you to take them off, then dry off and I'll then give you something different to wear. Alright?" His voice during the speech came off a little strained. Grian let out a quiet 'oh', before reaching to take off his shirt just using his fingertips. After a few fails, he reluctantly turned to Doc.

"I need some help." Doc nodded his head and smiled at the fact that Grian had actually asked him for help, while trying to ignore the fact that he was undressing him. The two sat in silence, Grian was cursing himself for not being able to do it himself. After an awkward moment Doc grabbed some extra clothes and helped Grian get dressed. Doc then reached for the sleeve of his dress shirt and ripped part of it off, Grian raised his eyebrow at this.

"What are you doing?" His was voice hoarse and his eyes were still half closed. Instead of answering, Doc just ripped it into small pieces, before pouring some of the remaining water from the bottle on it and wrapping Grian’s wounds in them. Grian slightly cringed at the feeling, but other than that he felt fine.

"Go sit under the roof." Doc said and nudged him slightly. Grian felt uncomfortable. Every meeting of theirs, except the first three, Doc was joking and flirting, being borderline friendly. Grian found that he didn't quite enjoy this serious version of the pirate. With that being said Grian decided he agreed to Doc's deal, so he might as well try to get along.

Grian cleared his throat, successfully gaining Doc's attention. "It must've looked hilarious though.." He said and gave out a weak laugh. 'Oh god what the heck was that supposed to be' Grian thought, the small smile on his face looking awkward at best. Doc looked at him weirdly, before seemingly catching on to the fact that he was trying to lighten the mood.

"I wouldn't say it looked funny, but who would've known that all I needed to defeat you was to give you a fishing line and wait for you to off yourself." Doc let out a small chuckle and Grian immediately started glaring at him. A crooked grin on his face. "Well I guess you're weaker than a fish." Doc glared back playfully.

The two shared a small laughed. Doc shifted a bit to his side. His dress shirts clung uncomfortably to his arm. Sighing he noticed that his sleeve had gotten wet while he was getting Grain out of the water. He reached down and started pulling his shirt off. Grian, confused and once again blushing, snapped his head to the side. "What are you doing?!" Doc took his shirt off and looked weirdly at at Grian.

"It got wet." He was now just sitting shirtless, he had tossed the shirt onto the part of the boat that was covered in sun. "We don't have an extra one, do we?" Grian didn't bother even looking around, his eyes now glued to Docs chest. "Nope."

Doc let out a breathy chuckle. "Like what you see?" Grian snapped out of it. "No..I'M JUST JEALOUS! I mean--!" Grian huffed out and grumbled under his breath. Doc chuckled once more. Grian crossed his arms, careful to not touch the inside of his palms.

The boat continued to sail forward. The sun high in the sky, burning down on the wood on the boat. Doc leaned back, happy that he and Grian seemed to have progressed in their friendship.

____________

Once again pirate au by @gridoc

[yunhoway]

Star-Crossed Lovers

Pairing: San X Reader

Genre: Fluff, Angst

Word count: 4.2k

Watching the Sun radiating its comforting rays brought peace in your soul. Even though you couldn't see his body due to the Earth situating in between you and the planet, you could feel his warmth. Most of the inhabitants on Earth enjoyed the fact that it was daytime, for they often engage in exciting activities during that time with their fellow companions. They were always out when the Sun was up. One thing for sure, the Sun was everyone's favourite.

Unlike you.

With the night sky accompanying you, you rarely saw the citizens out of their homes even though you illuminated the land just fine. The very few people who were out in such twilight hours were often the lonely and ostracised ones seeking for your company. These people didn't say much; just staring at the starless sky occasionally hoping that the forlorn feeling disappeared. It was depressingㅡyou had to admitㅡbut if your presence soothed their souls, you could at least provide that. It wasn't like the rest of their population appreciated your presence anyway.

It was understandableㅡyou believedㅡfor the people to not value the Moon the same way they did for the Sun. Who would have wanted to go outside when it was dark? Although you did provide some illumination for them (which by the way, wouldn't be possible without the Sun), it was still dark outside to do something productive. Furthermore, it was dangerous to play outside when the people often relied on the natural sources for light. 

"What'cha doing?" Disrupting your train of thoughts, the asteroid casually asked as he floated freely next to you.

"Nothing much, Wooyoung. What about you?"

"Barely escaped from Jongho's cold stare," he recalled his encounter with the Uranus. "That guy needs to chill, metaphorically of course. He looks like he was about to kill me or something when I was just joking!"

"And what joke did you exactly say?" You quirked your eyebrow.

"I just said 'Hey, Jongho, don't you think it's funny that the humans call you Uranus? Get it? Your anus?'. Damn, I was really laughing like a maniac earlier but he responded with a glare!" Wooyoung moved closer to you. "Don't you find it funny too?"

You shook your head in mock disappointment, "If Jongho decided to kill you, I'd said you deserved it."

"How could you?!" He gasped dramatically. "Aren't you supposed to be by my side?! You're San's lover, and as his best friend, I should have your support!" You chuckled, "Try telling him your encounter with Jongho, and see if he responses positively."

"Fine! Just you wait!" He firmly said. "And oh, Yeosang, I think you should hang out with Jongho more. Maybe that'll cool you down."

Before the Venus could even retort, the asteroid had already escaped once again. Yeosang huffed.

"I swear to god, he's been getting on my nerves even though I tried ignoring him!" He then faced you. "How can you even handle that annoying prick?!" You shrugged, deciding not to comment since you knew any opinions wouldn't be appreciated at the moment. He'll be fine eventually, you thought. Just then, you spotted two familiar entities approaching your way.

"Hey, Y/N!" Both Yunho and Mingi said in unison. "How's the people tonight?"

"Not many are awake."

Yunho and Mingi looked at each other for a moment, sharing a telepathic message before they nodded at the same time.

"That's fine," Yunho spoke with a cheery tone. "We'll just send one meteor to Earth and see if there are people lucky enough to make their wishes."

Mingi then pushed one into the Earth's atmosphere, letting the meteor free falling as it recorded the humans' wishes along the way.

~~~

When you finally had a glimpse of the Sun a few days later, your lips naturally curved upwards. It had been a while since you last saw him. San didn't noticed you peeking from the Earth, for he was concentrated with listening to his friend. Watching San's expression intently, you could faintly hear Wooyoung sharing his encounter with Jongho. San was nodding throughout, furrowing his eyebrows at one point before his face scrunched up with mirth. As if knowing that you had been watching them, Wooyoung suddenly turned to face you, giving you a smug face.

"Hah! You heard that?!" You heard Wooyoung shout, causing the Mars to stir from his sleep due to the noise. Seonghwa slightly opened one eye, and when he noticed Wooyoung, he shook his head in disdain before facing the other way. San flashed you a loving smile, in which you couldn't help returning too. Wooyoung seemed to realise that your eyes were not exactly at his, and when he turned back to San, his friend displayed a lovesick expression as San gazed at you fondly.

"Ugh, is this what humans call 'lovebirds'?" Wooyoung groaned in disgust. Nevertheless, neither you nor San were bothered by Wooyoung's remark when the two of you were head over heels for each other.

"Whatever, I'm leaving," Wooyoung announced, in which his friend gave him an amiable smile before San's attention was back on you.

"What are you doing?" You remarked telepathically when San sent you a flying kiss.

"Showing my love for you, of course." He winked.

As much as you want to hide the warmth in your cheeks, you know you couldn't when his rays were able to reach you and feel the sudden change in temperature. And of course, he took pride in making you blush with his affectionate displayㅡeven teasing you about it.

"Love, why are you so shy suddenly?" San cheekily inquired.

"I'm not, my dear~" You knew there was no point in denying it, yet you found it hard to admit that you were clearly affected by him.

"Really?" He raised an eyebrow. "Then why are you heating up right now?"

"Well..." you quickly dug up an excuse. "Your rays were too warm!"

"Oh, should I stop projecting my rays on you then?"

Your eyes widened as you quickly responded, "No!"

With his lips stretching further upwards while his eyes resembled your crescent moons, San was obviously having fun messing around with you. You faked a pout as San continued to laugh at your embarassment.

"My dear, why are you doing this to me?"

"Because I love you so much." The laughter ceased as he gazed earnestly at you. "I can't wait to hold you in my arms again, my love."

His confession had led the two of you to yearn for those small yet precious moments of San embracing you. The solar eclipse was the only event which allowed both of you to do so, hence San always found himself longing even more once the two of you parted yet again. It was probably this reason which caused San to treasure every moment of him enfolding you.

"It won't be long before the eclipse arrives, my dear." You gave him a faint a smile. "Just be patient for a little longer."

~~~

Every time the eclipse approached, you smiled yet cried. Smiled because you could finally return to his comforting warmth, yet cried because you knew very well that people hated to see you two together. They often prayed for the Sun and Moon to stay apart, for they believe seeing you together spelled trouble. Some even hurled rocks towards the sky in an attempt to chase you off. Although you couldn't exactly feel the physical pain from it, it hurt you nonetheless to see them hating you with a passion.

"What's wrong, my love?" San inquired when he noticed you downcasted.

"Nothing, my dear." You faked a smile. "Just feeling a little extra lonely lately."

"Be patient, love." He reassured. "When the eclipse comes, we'll be able to be together once again."

You wished you had his optimism, but a part of you thought that he had been able to be positive when the people always celebrated his presence. A part of you envied that he got to feel the people appreciating him. Your presence only brought the loneliness and sorrow out from the people. They rarely regarded your presence, treating you as if you were just another being floating aimlessly in the sky. Heck, even Wooyoung who sometimes flew past the Earth had been appreciated by them (although it was often that they mistook him for a shooting star).

"You're sad again." San noted, disrupting you from your negative thoughts. You laughed it off, "It's nothing, dear."

He knew you were lying, yet he didn't comment further about it. San knew you believed that he wasn't aware of the reason behind your sadness, when in fact, he noticed every little expression of you whenever you looked at the humans. It didn't help that the villagers were preparing with great efforts in what he assumed going to be the greatest event ever in history. He was afraid that with more people gathering to insult the eclipse, you were bound to get hurt even more.

San's words were soon a reality, for the citizens started denigrating your presence even when you and him barely converged a few days later. And it angered him more that he had to witness you shed your tear when you should be happy meeting him.

"Please don't cry, my love." It broke his heart to see you so despondent.

"I'm sorry..." You hid your crestfallen expression from him. "I'm sorry for inconveniencing everyone."

"Don't ever say that," he sternly warned. "You're never an inconvenience, especially to me."

Once you two were close enough, he didn't hesitate to hug your figure, covering your ears from the incessant insults thrown at you. Nevertheless, you heard them loud and clear, causing you to shed even more tears while hiding in his embrace.

"Shh..." San cooed. "You're special to me, and you will always be my everything."

He continued to whisper sweet nothings, hoping that it would silence the abuse which were penetrating your head. Eventually, you roughly wiped your tears once you pulled away from his embrace.

"You need to let me go now," you said.

"No."

"San, please!" You begged. "Or else they're going to hate me more."

He wasn't done with showering you with his love, yet he admitted that you were right. His hold on you eventually weakened, allowing you the freedom to orbit normally again. And when you completely escaped from his touch, San was already missing you greatly. You gave him a sad smile, knowing all too well of the feeling. At the same time, San was infuriated, especially when the inhabitants on Earth were holding large celebrations once the eclipse was over. His anger took over him, leading him to project his rays with greater might.

"San, don't," you urged. "You're going to harm the people on Earth."

"They deserve it!" He snarled. "They should learn not to treat you like that!" You couldn't return to him, because it would only upset the whole system by doing so. Unable to convince him any further, you slowly orbited as usual, hoping that he would cool down eventually.

It seemed your hope didn't come into fruition, for he had caused the lands to suffer droughts and the heat unbearable for the humans as the Earth continued to orbit. This time, San was determined to teach 'these imbecile beings' a lesson despite your numerous times to discourage him. Even Wooyoung, who always find the Earth annoying, felt that it was too harsh of a punishment. Nevertheless, no one was able to convince San when he was so headstrong in his quest for retribution.

Sadly, the humans perceived this as a curse due to the prolonged eclipse. They began to rebuke the Moon even more, hurling more hurtful phrases at you despite their parched throats. You hid your tears nonetheless, afraid that your lover would inflict a harsher punishment on them. Despite the humans' cruelty, you had a soft spot for the Earth, for you would be nothing if not for the planet. Only the asteroids and the stars were aware of your tears as they floated past.

"Please don't tell San about this," you implored them, although they found it hard to mask their worry for you. Nevertheless, they obliged. The least they could do for you was to respect your wish.

~~~

You barely talked to San ever since that incident. While he was engrossed in punishing the human beings, you were busy trying to conceal your pain. San failed to realise that as the moon of Earth, you were bound to feel the intense heat he was radiating as well. You often played around with the waves at night as a form of distraction from the pricking discomfort. Tonight was no different, except for the fact that you noticed a couple at the beach.

Weird, you thought. Who would come to the beach at this hour?

As you listened to their conversation, you soon realised that they were forbidden loversㅡmeeting at such an ungodly hour only because it was the most appropriate time for them. Your heart ached for them as you learnt how their parents hated each other to the core, restricting the lovers from expressing their affections openly. What surprised you though, was when the couple began to talk about you.

"Don't you think the Moon is lovely tonight?" The man observed. "The Moon is always there to witness our never-ending love, don't you think so?"

You almost teared up upon hearing his words. There was never once a human being spoke to you with such gentleness. Maybe you did end up tearing after all when you listened to the woman's response.

"I've always thought the Moon is beautiful. Do you think people will eventually realise its beauty eventually? I hope they do."

You couldn't resist from breaking down in tears. You wished you could grant their wish to love openly, but that was beyond your capabilities. Luckily for you though, Yunho happened to fly past you.

"Why are you crying, Y/N?" Yunho questioned.

Despite the tears running down, you beamed. You were glad that he came at the right time, even though you suppressed the urge to laugh at his confused expression.

"I know you fulfil wishes for humans who seek for you, but do you think you can fulfil a wish of mine?"

"Not sure, though," he replied nonchalantly. "But I can try."

You took a few deep breaths, calming yourself completely before you could articulate your wish clearly.

"I wish the people on Earth can appreciate the little things in life, love each other openly and rejoice at the fact that they're living."

Yunho had a sense that you were kind, but he never thought you would be so selfless. As such, he agreed to fulfil it immediately, flying around the Earth to spread the love you had for its people. When Yunho was done with his job, he returned to your side.

"Is it just me or is it hot in here? Like literally."

You hesitated to give him an answer. Knowing Yunho, he would confront San about itㅡand you didn't want that. You would rather let San do what he thought was necessary than confronting him and worsen the situation instead. However, Yunho was sharp enough to take note of your quick glance at your lover.

"It's San right, isn't it?" Yunho then noted the way you would squirm every now and then. "Y/N, what's wrong?"

"It's nothing."

"Stop lying," Yunho asserted. "Don't make me tell San about the times you cried on your own."

You sighed, "I'm not sure how much longer I can withstand the heat from his rays, Yunho."

"I'm going to confront himㅡ"

"Yunho, don't!" You quickly stopped him. "Just... don't."

"Why?!" He shouted. "Why Y/N?! Why are you making yourself suffer?!"

You flinched at his outburst, in which Yunho soon grew apologetic for his sudden release of emotion. Eventually, he heaved a deep sigh.

"Fine..." Yunho yielded. "I won't tell San for now."

"Thank you, Yunㅡ"

"But don't expect me to keep mum about it when your health is at stake," he warned, even though his eyes were showing sympathy.

The star took his leave a few seconds later, leaving you alone once again.

~~~

San's wrath seemed to have no limits, for his rays had never once weakened in its strength as the rays continued to penetrate the Earth's atmosphere. Frankly, he could intensify his rays further, but the Earth would then be annihilated and San thought that would be too easy of a punishment for the humans. San wanted to torture them, to let them suffer in his wrath. Almost all of the planets and asteroids and stars avoided San as much as possible, equally afraid that they would also become victims of his rage. Almost all except Mingi.

"Mingi!" Yunho shouted as he chased after his friend. "Do you know what you're about to do?!"

Mingi stopped on his tracks before turning behind, "Then do you expect me to do nothing after what you've told me?! Yunho, Y/N is in danger!"

Yunho was quiet for a moment. Although he knew his friend was doing the right thing, Yunho feared that a friendship was bound to be broken. Mingi didn't wait for his friend to speak, for he was already in a rush to confront San. And that seemed to break Yunho out from his trance as he quickly followed his friend.

"Hey, San!" Mingi screamed when he was near the Sun, ignoring the intense heat which the former was currently experiencing.

"Can't you see I'm busy?!" San growled, not bothering to glance at Mingi.

"Too busy to the point you didn't notice Y/N suffering?!" That seemed to catch San's attention, for his fury dulled for a moment before his eyes searched for you.

Oblivious to the commotion, you were preoccupied with your attempts to cool yourself down. Despite the pain, you didn't weep (even though the tears were precariously brimming in your eyes). You forced yourself not to cry because crying wouldn't solve the heat, and you didn't want to invite any more attention from your friends who witnessed your tears.

But San had seen it all. He had seen how hard you tried to keep the pain to yourself, how hard you tried to be less of a burden. Regret washed over him unceremoniously, for he finally realised his grave mistake. The radiations drastically diminished as he muttered, "What have I done..."

When you felt the sharp reduction of the heat, your eyes were automatically on San who was looking at you all this while. You recoiled when his rays slowly reached out for you. Although a part of you knew that San wasn't going to hurt you, another part of you was convinced that he was capable of hurting you unconsciouslyㅡespecially since you had witnessed him in his infuriating form. Eventually, you hid behind the Earth, not wishing to see San at the moment. San was left distraught when you refused to talk to him. Unbeknownst to him, both Mingi and Yunho had long excused themselves, so San was now left alone to figure out how to coax you.

Alas, San didn't have a concrete plan even when you had reluctantly revealed yourself. The humans still hated you as usual, and here he was, failing to protect you when you needed him most. You also refused to talk to him, facing the Earth as much as possible as you orbited around the planet.

"I'm so sorry, Y/N." San broke the suffocating silence between the two of you.

You never responded. San sighed. Nevertheless, that didn't deter him from attempting again for the next few days. He would speak animatedly to you, as if you two never fought in the first place. He would also try to get your attention by pointing at the glimmering stars around. Yet, you chose to stay quiet throughout, and San had no choice except to mutter an apology at the end of the day, every day.

San, however, had no clue that you were also apologetic towards him. You felt that he deserved better, and that it wasn't worth it for him to love you when he could have gone for something easier. Of course, San wasn't aware of these thoughts when you purposedly shut off your telepathic communication with him. Still, you shared these thoughts with Wooyoung, despite knowing his brotherly bond with San. It could be due to his amicable personality which allowed you to confide with him, and maybe a part of you hoped that Wooyoung would convey these thoughts to his best friend because you didn't feel confident to say them directly to San. Eventually, San was informed about it, and he didn't hesitate to approach you as soon as he heard about it.

"My love, why would you ever think of that?" His rays slowly reached out to you in an ever so gentle way.

"I don't know, San..." you sniffled. "I just don't feel like I'm worth fighting for..." Sorrow stabs through his soul when he heard your words, "Don't ever say that, my love. You're everything to me, and I'm willing to fight for you no matter what."

"Please stay strong for us, my love."

~~~

You were glad that you listened to his words, for things began to improve in your favour. The technological advancements discovered by humans had resulted them to see the Moon in a new light, and they also grew ambitious to study more about the solar system. This led you to know a new friend years later, thanks to Wooyoung who stumbled across Pluto.

"Hongjoong's a nice guy actually," Wooyoung remarked, "even though he seems reserved."

"Maybe it's because he has never communicated with anyone before," you added.

"Probably."

"Or maybe he just doesn't want to talk to you," Yeosang quipped as he nonchalantly looked at his fingernails. "You're annoying, after all."

"Hey!" Wooyoung yelled. "That's very mean of you!"

Yeosang only responded with a dismissive huff before turning away, putting a stop to that conversation.

"Meanie," Wooyoung mumbled once again before his attention was fully on you. "Are you excited for the eclipse?!"

You grew bashful at the thought, subconsciously catching a glimpse your lover who was in his own world at the moment. 

"Pfft, why are you so shy?!" Wooyoung mirthfully noted. "It's not like this is the first time you two canoodle!"

"Shh! Not too loud, Wooyoung!"

Although you didn't verbally express it, Wooyoung knew you greatly anticipated the eclipse. It was obvious that you were excited, especially since the humans had been more kind towards you and the eclipse. People barely scorned you nowadays as their praises for you emerged. You never thought you would still exist to witness this.

While the humans in the past would gather to insult you, now, the humans would watch the eclipse taking place as they marveled at the sight. "Look, Ma!" You heard a boy shouted from afar. "It's the eclipse!"

You faintly smiled. San was still holding you close as the two of you witnessed the people expressing their praises at the rare phenomenon together.

"Look at how the humans admire our love, my love," San said in a dreamy whisper.

Your back was pressed against his chest as both of you continued to stay close for a little longer. And when you two parted once again, you noticed some humans feeling disappointed when the eclipse ended. Of course, a part of you felt happy because you and the humans share similar sentiments. At the same time, you believed that the time had come for you to love openly, and there was no need for you to be envious of the attention received by San when the people also appreciated you for who you were.

"I miss you..." San confessed when he let go of you.

You chuckled upon noticing his pout, "But my dear, we barely parted."

"Still..."

From afar, Seonghwa watched the lovers interact with a contented smile. He had been supporting you and San quietly from the sidelines, and Seonghwa had always believed that your love would prevail eventually. Now that things were more or less resolved, Seonghwa was planning to sleep. But of course, someone had to ruin it.

"Hey, Seonghwa," Wooyoung pestered the Mars. "Aren't you tired of sleeping all day?"

"I'm much more tired of dealing with your energy," Seonghwa faced the other side, but that didn't stop the asteroid from continue questioning the former.

"Why~" Wooyoung whined. "I'm trying to be nice with you and this is how you treat me?! This is atrocious!"

The Mars then angled the planet in such a way where its volcano was aiming at Wooyoung. Seonghwa voice went an octave lower as he said, "Don't make me shoot lava towards you."

"Alright! Alright!" Wooyoung quickly backed away. "Geez... you're such a spoilsport..."

"What did you say?!"

Wooyoung had already took off before any lava could be spewed out from the volcano.

FIN

[jojo-reader-hell]

Jonathan Joestar x Selkie!Reader: Seven on the Land, Seven in the Sea

Hello children here’s the selkie angst you didn’t ask for.

...

“And yet, niece, you are subject to our laws, as a being of the same nature with ourselves; and should HE prove unfaithful to you and marry again, you are obliged to take away his life.”

- Undine

...

“Oh Jojo! Yes! Yes I will marry you!”

Your hands, clammy and pruned, began to tremble. You released your fist and gripped weakly at the door frame, legs like gelatin when you heard a cacophony of giggles, and saw a man lift a woman with hair the color of golden beach sand into his arms for a kiss. The barking laughter of the elders echoing in your mind, stomach frothing with nervous bile.

Remember the laws of our people little pup: he belonged to you the minute the child was placed inside your tender womb by his essence. He cannot belong to another, and if he tries... he is condemned to die by your hand.

No... no... this cannot be happening... Why couldn’t your husband just wait for you to explain?! You turned away from the path, blocking the way to the door, turning and seeing a very familiar pair of watery blue eyes searching for the answer in your tear streaked face. Your little boy, your son Giorno, was still holding out the large jet black pelt you’d found. The picture of innocence. Blue black hair pressed wetly to his forehead as he obediently waited. A good boy, in every sense of the word. He didn’t understand human words, he was seven years a seal and a mere few minutes a human. You meant to show him as a surprise. Instructed your little boy to hold out his father’s new pelt and wait for him to come to the door when you knocked. He was then to say his first word, a call of his father’s name. At first the sight made you coo in delight, now it only made you wish to die. It was supposed to be a happy moment. A moment that would inspire joy once you knocked at the cabin door and the fisherman’s son Jonathan Joestar would open it to reveal his half selkie son holding out a seal pelt just his size, that he might join you both in the sea forever.

Oh! You can try to deny the jealousy. ‘Twill be a bitter poison to swallow that will consume your every waking moment. But the lust for blood will consume you, eat away at the heart that was once cradled in the palm of his hand, and you will inevitably partake in the ancient right to carnage. Serves you right for cavorting about with a human. Doesn’t it make you wish now that you’d have taken the harp seal as your husband? Dio would have made a devoted father to little Giorno. You know, once your human mate is dead you are allowed to take another in his stead.

You remembered your words... How proudly you lifted your chin and dared to look into the eyes of the elder selkie.

I’d rather die.

Yes. You’d rather be dead. Rather have stayed on land and let the dryness kill you and the baby than have to look through the salt stained windows of the cabin and see your husband’s lips locked with another, grudgingly you admitted his new choice was pretty. Beach sand hair, eyes as blue as the sea... Certainly not the stormy eyes of a seal woman that were shrouded as though in a dense fog. While it never bothered you before, you suddenly felt the chill of the sea wind creep into your bones, bare toes curling into the mud of the path as you took a stumbling step away. Your son barked, it was all he knew how to do, and you frightened him when you lunged forward on the path to cover his mouth, scraping the sensitive skin of your legs when you scooped him up into your arms.

Giorno barked at you once again when you waded out to the beach in a hurry, not paying any mind to the blood trickling down your legs. You understood him perfectly, it was a bark that meant he wanted his papa’s attention. You made a snuffing sound with your nose as you buried your face in his little neck, a sound meant for seal mothers to reassure their little ones. But he didn’t want his mother. He wanted his father and tried to open his mouth to call his name like you taught him, quickly silenced with the words gurgling in his throat as you dove into the cold gray sea.

No... no... Jonathan... dear Jonathan... why couldn’t he wait for you?? Why couldn’t he have stayed steadfast and faithful, understanding the message of the pearls and shells you’d left in place of the letter you didn’t know how to write. You didn’t know any way to let him know. It wasn’t possible for a selkie to live more than a few days on land. You were able to stay a little longer, because Jonathan had accidentally caught your pelt in his nets. By the laws you were bound to him as husband and wife. Whosoever took your pelt and returned it was by tradition proposing marriage. And because he was so sincere, so kind, you accepted. Happy as a clam to have been fortunate to be taken in the arms of such a handsome specimen of manhood.

“If you are my wife now... then this must be our wedding night.”

He’d told you this on a night similar to the one you returned on. It was just as the sun was setting. The cold wind from the sea blew in, his fire roaring and a cast iron pot of simmering fish stew bubbled in the fire. You’d been waiting patiently to be fed, your pelt wrapped loosely around yourself, unaware of how bewitching you looked when the spotted pelt slid down to expose your soft shoulders.

“Yes. I suppose it is.”

“Tell me, little selkie, do you know what happens on a wedding night?”

You did not know, but oh did you find out. You found out the consequences of such a night too, when your stomach began to balloon out even though you couldn’t keep down your fish anymore. Jonathan was too busy to notice. A fisherman’s life was hard, with him being at sea for weeks at a time and returning dead tired with barely enough food to feed the two of you. You tried to tell him yourself that you were dying. You just needed some time to return back to the sea, a seven year rest in the water and a seven year search for a pelt that he might come to your world without drowning trying to join you and the baby. If you continued living on land, you’d lose the child and your life, leaving the poor man a lonely widow without even a body to mourn. From sea foam you came, to sea foam you’d return if you kept up the facade of being a human for too long.

As you pulled both yourself and baby further down into the murky water, you tried to ignore the sounds of a creature swimming rapidly towards you. Pretending not to see the locks of gold and that damned gloating smile, you pressed Giorno closer to your chest and made into the shape of a torpedo, jettisoning yourself out of reach of the sea and landing with an undignified ‘plop’ on the hard pebbles of the beach. Your son sputtered, coughing sea water and choking because of the abrupt transition from breathing air to breathing water.

“You damnable tease!” Croaked a voice out of breath. “I’m only trying to help you-...”

“Go away Dio!” You growled a warning, lips pulling back over your sharp teeth. “This doesn’t concern you!”

“Of course it does! Am I not the fiercest hunter?! Did I not escort you here to protect you from sharks? In a few minutes you might have had another escort instead of me. Clumsy bitch, you’re bleeding!”

He heaved himself onto land, hissing at the pain of the pebbles pressing into his sensitive skin and hardly experienced enough to walk as he dragged himself towards you with an outstretched hand. You stood on wobbling legs and stepped out of reach, backing away as fast as the love struck selkie male could crawl towards you, his legs still clumsily pressed together because he never fully grasped the concept of his human half.

“He didn’t stay faithful did he?!” Dio laughed, between hissing at the pain of the dry land and hurling insults at you. “He’s going to marry that simpering wench and you’ll have to kill him on his wedding night, in your marriage bed that he defiled with another!”

“Go away!”

“You’ll be left a disgraced widow. Your poor son more of a bastard than he already is!”

“Begone!”

“You know I speak the truth! I was told to bring you the knife to carry out the deed. Take it you fool, take it and free yourself! Save what little dignity you have left and exercise your ancient right to revenge!”

He tossed the offending object towards your feet. The ceremonial knife. A razor clam honed to a fine edge and used by multitudes of heartbroken selkies to free themselves from their earthly bonds. It made you pause, seeing it lay there innocently while Giorno stared wide eyed at Dio. You looked at the child in your arms, and then once more to the razor clam. A feeling... insatiable lust... a hunger for the blood of your son’s father filled your heart, skipping a beat when you saw some of the blood from your knees dribble down onto the blade.

Temptation.

Pure, unadulterated temptation.

The same temptation he might have felt when he committed the sin of taking another...

Kicking sand in your wake, you carried Giorno far away, as far as your weak legs could carry the both of you. They didn’t get you far. Just far enough into the forest that you couldn’t hear Dio’s screams of your name, but you could still see the smoke curling from Jonathan’s chimney and smell the fish he was cooking as a meal to celebrate his betrothal. You couldn’t cry. Selkies cannot cry tears, only making you suffer all the more as your heartbreak had no where else to go but to sink deeper into the pit of your stomach. Giorno had long since stopped choking, opting now to whine weakly into your arms, unused to being on dry land for such a long period of time. You tried your best to rock him back and forth in your arms, mimicking the gentle motions of the waves in an attempt to soothe him.

But it was all for naught. There was nothing you could do to console him. He didn’t understand why he couldn’t give the black pelt he still held to his papa. Didn’t understand why you didn’t produce his father after seven years of singing him songs in your seal voice about the handsome young man that would net hoards of fish for him to eat, then cradle him in his strong arms and shower him with the affection he longed for. You knew even though he didn’t understand things as a human, Giorno wasn’t stupid. He saw the members of his pod paired and taking care of young, wondering why he had no papa to clean his whiskers after his meals or to teach him to catch slippery silver fish in his jaws. Giorno was instead fed on mother’s milk and stories of a papa that walked on two legs, a papa that couldn’t swim very well in frothing waters and that had promised a vow of everlasting love to his mother.

“P-papa!” His first words were raspy, his throat parched from breathing in too much dry air. “Papa!”

[lover-of-skellies]

Mal to the Rescue/Error Gets Vibe Checked

"TEMPLATE? TEMPLATE C'MON, WHERE ARE YOU? TEMPLATE! DAD, COME ON! SAY SOMETHING, PLEASE!"

Mal's voice ripped through the still, deceptively tranquil night air as she darted between the trees, her multicolored eye lights searching for any traces of her adoptive father. The further she headed into the forest without finding so much as a trace of him ever being there in the first place, her soul sunk deeper into the pit of her nonexistent stomach, and she did her best to ignore the nausea that was slowly creeping up on her. She knew Template was here a little while ago because she could still sense his magic in the air. While she would normally consider that reassuring or comforting, something else was laced into the traces of his magic.

As her eye lights locked onto a single electric blue thread that'd been caught on part of a bramble bush, she found herself coming to an immediate halt. Template never used threads, so that could only mean... The realization clicked into place and her sockets widened, her body beginning to glitch heavier than before. She began to pace back and forth, muttering lowly to herself, "No, no, no, no. NO. That can't be... Please tell me it's not. Oh shit, what do I do now? I can't call dad because he's at work, same as Zerif, and then Ink and Dream are busy in the echo flower district. Damn it... what do I do? I can't... not by myself. I'm not strong enough, and fuck asking the nineties freak for help, no fucking way I'm gonna do that."

Thoughts raced in her head and she paused, inhaling deeply before tipping her head back and letting out a shrill scream, her soul now racing within her ribcage. Screaming wasn't necessarily helpful by any means, but she'd taken to letting off steam that way as to avoid becoming destructive again. She might've been that way at one time, but that's not who she really was. Not anymore, at least. The urge to kill and destroy, to erase everything was always in the back of her mind, and she did her best to ignore and resist it. Even if caused her physical pain, she had no plans to give in anytime soon. The overwhelming cluster of contradictory thoughts in her head slowly faded as she reached a conclusion. She knew what she had to do in order to find Template, and she let out a shaky breath.

This was not going to be fun. Not at all.

She reached out and snatched the single thread from the brambles it'd become caught on, tightly squeezing her sockets shut. Reaching out with her free hand, she opened a portal, and before she gave herself even a brief moment to reconsider what she was about to do, she leapt through it, clenching her jaw shut as she felt herself begin to fall. Faster and faster she descended, opening her sockets and catching sight of more blue threads. As she plummeted downward into another area of the forest, she managed to catch herself, taking a shortcut. Although she reappeared much closer to the ground, she wasn't able to right herself in time, tumbling down onto the forest floor. She was quick to get back up onto her feet, her eye lights scanning her surroundings again. Though she couldn't see much of anything yet, there was significantly more blue threads scattered around her than before, and she sighed softly.

Mal began to walk again, following a trail of not just Template's, but Error's magic. The two were very similar in nature, though one felt friendly and calming, and the other was cold and hateful. She followed the traces of magic for what felt like forever, only stopping as she began to hear an all too familiar glitching voice, "I have to compliment you though! You really had me on edge there! Well, almost." The teen clamped a hand over her mouth and ducked behind the trunk of a tree, crouching down in an effort to remain hidden. She'd needed a moment to collect herself before she began to very carefully slip out from behind the tree and inch closer to the source of the magic in the air. She remained crouched, nearly crawling, as she moved, listening in as the same voice appeared again, "Those seam trimmers were actually holograms too, right? You trickster! You distracted me by making me run from nothing to deliver a heavy blow yourself. Quite clever!"

Mal cursed under her breath, pausing and falling silent. A faint glow from the edge of the clearing caught her attention and she cautiously scooted toward it. Immediately recognizing the item that generated the glow, her sockets widened in fear, and she reached out, delicately resting a bony hand on the oversized pen. This... was Template's pen. She'd recognize it anywhere. If the pen was here, then where was he?...

"But how can I ignore. So. Much. Noise?!"

Though it was much weaker than she would've liked to hear, Mal instantly perked up, upon hearing the second voice. That was Template! He was nearby, and she was so close to finding him. Template let out a strangled cry of pain and shattered the brief moment of relief that Mal had been feeling. Her figure began to glitch even worse and she trembled, fear overriding her other senses. She wanted to run far, far away, and yet... her feet felt rooted to the ground. Template had cared for her so much, when it felt like no one else did, and he'd taught her so much. She enjoyed his company and had even thought of him as being the father she'd never had, and she'd never wish anything bad upon him. The "anything bad" happened to be Error though, and vivid memories flickered in her mind. With the utmost ease, she remembered the times Error became unstable. She remembered him becoming enraged, and even when she wasn't remotely involed in whatever soured his mood, she remembered him taking out his anger on her.

All the broken bones, all the fractures, scrapes, and threats. All the insults, all the bleeding, and all the tears. All her tears, specifically. She was afraid of him without question, and she knew better than to upset him. He had Template though... he had one of the only people who'd ever been truly kind to her and loved her as she was.

And she wasn't about to let that slide. No way in hell.

A determined expression settling on her face, she took a deep breath and rose to her feet, her gaze almost immediately locking on the glitchy skeleton who'd caused her so much pain. Blue threads were everywhere in sight, and as she reluctantly tore her gaze away from Error, she noticed some movement and weak, glitching pleas. She shifted her attention to their source and her sockets widened again, her determined expression rapidly transforming into one of fear. Up in the air, tangled in blue threads and suspended in place, was Template. He was glitching terribly at this point, his scarlet sockets were clouded over with errors, and the blue marks beneath his sockets appeared to be dripping. A red bone attack had ripped through his shirt and broke through his ribs, and she could very clearly see it from where she stood. As if he wasn't in enough pain already, that bone attack and his broken ribs would only make it so much worse.

Even if she cut him loose, he wouldn't be able to move on his own. Not in his current condition. She'd have to find another way to get him to safety, but for now, her main focus would be getting rid of Error. If that meant breaking every bone in his body and dusting him, she'd do it with a smile. Centering her gaze on Error again, she scowled. He was going to pay dearly for this little stunt, and she'd make sure of that. Reaching up with both hands to touch the rims of her sockets, blue threads appeared, sticking to her fingertips. She pulled the threads away from her face, gathering them into a large, tightly wound bundle before breaking their connection to her sockets. Once the bundle was free, she pulled her arm back, clenching the threads tightly in her hand. Inhaling deeply, she redirected more of her magic to her clenched fist, a faint blue glow forming around it. As soon as she felt satisfied with the amount of magic she'd redirected to her fist, she hurled the wad of electric blue threads at Error.

Rather than hitting him directly, the bundle simply landed in the grass beside him, and his body jolted in surprise. Acting on impulse, he whirled around to face Mal, narrowing his sockets and raising a brow bone, almost as if in amusement, "Well hey there, shrimp. That's quite a greeting you've got." Swallowing her fear and choosing to offer Error a smug smile, Mal shrugged, "It gets better. Just wait." For a moment, the glitchy black skeleton almost appeared taken aback at the fact that she'd seemed so casual, and he scowled, "What are you talking about?" Mal tilted her head, doing her best to keep her body relaxed, "Since you're so damn impatient, I guess I'll go ahead and spoil the surprise for you." Without giving Error a chance to question her further, she snapped her fingers, causing the wad of electric blue threads to explode. Almost serpentine in how they moved, the threads appeared to gain a life of their own, quickly shooting in Error's direction. As they began to tightly wind around his body, his sockets widened and he started to struggle, fighting against them, "What the...?! This isn't normal! What the hell did you do to your threads?!"

The teen ignored his question, instead lifting an arm, her fingers pointed toward Template. More threads emerged from her sockets and wound around her fingertips before rocketing upward, looping around the threads that were suspending Template in the air. She shouted an apology as another set of threads wrapped around one end of the bone attack that still pierced through his ribs. Although she really didn't want to be the reason why Template was in pain, her threads quickly yanked the bone out of him, carelessly discarding it by hurling it in Error's direction.

The rest of her threads were quick to overtake Error's, snapping them with ease and lowering Template to the ground. Using a shortcut, her body warped through the space between them until she was by his side. Taking one of his gloved hands into her own, she gave a firm but gentle squeeze and leaned closer, her voice soft, "I'm sorry, dad... I can't just stand around and watch that bastard do this to you." Template weakly squeezed her hand back and opened his mouth to respond, but was immediately shushed by Mal, who sighed when she watched his mouth close, "You're really something else, y'know that? Even though I don't want you to be left alone like this, I can't have you here right now. Not when it's so dangerous." Although she'd promised herself that she wouldn't do it, she raised a hand, opening a portal that led to another section of the antivoid which was brightly colored, lit up with neons while various 90s memorabilia lay strewn acros the floor or sat in cardboard boxes. A familiar face suddenly appeared on the other side of the portal his gold tooth glimmering as he grinned widely, "Well hey, Sparky! Long time no see."

The teen made a dismissive sound of acknowledgement, using her threads to carefully lift Template and move him through the portal, "Yeah, yeah, whatever Fresh. Take Template to Geno and then get your @$$ back here asap." Tilting his head as he watched her threads gently set Template down, he arched a single hideous, thickened eyebrow, "What's goin' on, kid? What'd you do dis time?" Mal nervously glanced back toward Error, who'd managed to break through the last of the threads that'd been used to temporarily subdue him, before she offered Fresh a weak smile, fear very clear in her eyes, "Fresh, please just do it. I'll talk more later. I need you to hurry though, because I... I could very well get killed. Take Template to Geno, then come back as soon as you can."

Fresh furrowed his brows and frowned, silent for a moment before slipping through the portal to stand beside her, "Nuh uh, no can do, broski. You can take your buddy to Geno yourself, but I'm stayin' here." Mal blinked in surprise, momentarily feeling conflicted, "What are you-?" The nineties nightmare wrapped an arm around her shoulders and tugged her closer, and for once, she didn't flinch or try to get away. She stayed put, looking up at Fresh as he sighed, "Me and ol' Glitchy here got some catchin' up ta do. You should probably dip before it picks up, trust me." The teen frowned, visibly concerned, "Fine, whatever... just don't die, ok?" Fresh gave her a thumbs up and grinned, "Hey, no worries, buddy. I'm better at dis den you'd think." Mal rolled her eyes, flicking a deep blue ecto tongue at him and slipping out of his grasp, "Uh huh, sure. Don't flatter yourself." The elder of the two began to laugh and she turned away from him, also smiling slightly as her threads materialized, wrapping around Template's pen and slipping it into Fresh's pocket of the antivoid.

As she began to pass through into the antivoid, something tightly caught her wrist and she froze, looking down at her hand. Blue threads. Oh no. Error chuckled at the fear that overtook Mal's expression and hummed, "Awe. If I didn't know any better, I'd say you're scared of me." The threads began to pull her closer to him and she frantically attempted to break them and untangle herself. She looked to Fresh for help, her sockets widening further. Fresh was gone. He was nowhere in sight, and for all she knew, she was alone with Error. Almost within arms reach of him, Mal continued to struggle, the threads squeezing harder and beginning to draw blood. Seeing tears pricking at the edge of her sockets, Error smirked, "You are. You're terrified right now, aren't you?" Mal shook her head, trying in vain to appear annoyed and disgusted instead of afraid. This earned another deep chuckle from Error, and all her attempts to disguise her fear rapidly withered as she watched his control start to slip.

It was a painfully familiar sight, and a painfully familiar situation. She'd gone through this before, and never came out unharmed. This time was different though. She tried to fight back, and she even intervened and ruined whatever he was planning. A tear rolled down her cheekbone as she stared at him, visibly terrified. This time, she was sure he'd kill her. And then Fresh's voice appeared, seemingly out of nowhere as he called out, "Vibe check, big bro!" Error froze upon hearing Fresh's voice, and he made a face, "What the-"

There was a loud crack as Fresh's skateboard broke in half, directly over Error's head. Error's threads released Mal's wrist and he collapsed, deep cracks now running along his skull. Now free of the threads, Mal whimpered, turning and racing toward the portal as more tears dripped down her face, turning into more threads after only a fraction of a second.

Fresh watched the portal close before looking down at his broken skateboard and Error. Though beating his brother over the head with his skateboard wasn't part of the plan, something about it felt good.