#anyways. forever mad and bitter and salty about this

[anomura]

imagine being rick riordan and writing a whole ass arc for jason and nico, them going from not trusting each other at all to jason trying to befriend nico and worrying about him to an entire scene where they hug and it’s a Big Deal just to throw it all in the trash, not develop their relationship any further and then, to top it all off, kill jason. couldn’t be me

[whatifyoulivelikethat]

savage love, m | jjk

pairing(s): jungkook x reader

summary: We all make happy mistakes, right? And Jeon Jungkook’s was fucking Min Yoongi’s ex-girlfriend. Oops.

notes: After being attacked for a full week by long-haired, ponytail Jungkook, they just had to drop Savage Love BTS remix... so I had to write about it, of course.

warnings: rated M (18+) for language, smut (fem reader, m-receiving oral, cowgirl on a couch); non-idol!AU; big feels; ponytail!Jungkook in gray sweats; Jungkook’s POV

--

“I shouldn’t be in love with you.”

She grinned.

“Oh, yeah. I know.”

Jeon Jungkook chewed on his lower lip nervously, furrowing his brows. He knew he shouldn’t be touching her, because she was the ex-girlfriend of one of his close friends. He heard it had been a messy break-up with cheating and vicious words thrown at each other.

Why would I be in love with you? Love is fleeting anyway.

Are you serious? What the point of spending all this time together then?

Who knows? You would literally fuck anything that walked.

The fuck? I haven’t touched anyone besides you! And then you do this to me?

We were both drunk. I only kissed her.

You know what, go to hell, Min Yoongi!

Jungkook knew all the words exchanged because he had accidentally walked in on the whole thing. Yoongi’s best friend, Jung Hoseok, asked Jungkook to return some music equipment to Yoongi since Jungkook lived nearby but, well, nothing really turned out as planned.

Everyone thought Yoongi’s girl was hot. They always teased him how he got so lucky to catch such a woman. Maybe some people wouldn’t find her cute or pretty, but there was no denying the sexy confidence of her presence that immediately dominated the room when she entered. Short skirts, tight tops, leather jackets, combat boots – she just had that look. That feeling. Perky tits, perky ass, thighs that begged to be squeezed and molded, a smirk that could kill you.

So, when she unexpectedly showed up at Jungkook’s apartment the day after she walked out on Yoongi, Jungkook expected her to be sad. He expected puffy eyes and an oversized sweatshirt. Instead, he found the same teasing, cocked eyebrow and the tiniest black dress he’d ever seen, complete with a silver-studded black leather jacket. His eyes nearly bulged out of his head.

“Would you be mad if I kissed you right now?” she asked in greeting.

Jungkook sputtered. “N-no, but–”

She cut him off by getting on the tiptoes of her chunky ankle boots and kissed him, plush lips on his, pressing hard against his body. They stumbled into his apartment, her hands clenching his grey hoodie, slamming the door closed with her heel. She had him breathless within seconds, her kisses firm but coy, teeth nipping at his lips. She didn’t shove her tongue into his mouth, but let it linger between his lips, lightly licking before pulling away as he moaned softly.

She backed off to unzip her shoes and kick them off, giving Jungkook a moment to breathe.

“Does… does Yoongi-hyung know you’re here?” Jungkook croaked, still stunned by her entrance.

She shrugged. “Who cares? He doesn’t matter now. Only you matter.”

He really shouldn’t have been happy about that but his heart skipped two beats. It was extremely likely that the only reason that she was here was to get back at Yoongi. For his sanity, he really should just tell her to go home. But she yanked down his grey sweatpants way too fast and he started, suddenly shoved against the wall as she kissed up his leg.

“I always thought you looked pretty good with longer hair, Jungkook,” she purred, leaning against his legs and looking up at him. Tits. Yup, that’s basically what his brain immediately fixated on.

Jungkook reached up and touched his black hair as if he didn’t know the length. He had worked out a bit before returning home and his hair was still tied up in its small ponytail. He felt his cheeks burn with the compliment.

“A-ah… I haven’t gotten a haircut in a while,” he stuttered, sucking in a breath as she stroked him slowly through his underwear.

“It still looks good,” she said casually, as if she wasn’t palming him right at the entrance of his apartment. “But you always look good.” She blinked slowly, a smile dancing on her lips. “You’re handsome, Jungkook. Handsome and so, so fuckable.”

Welp, he was screwed now. It didn’t really matter if she meant it or not because his cock was literally trying to rip out of his boxer briefs by himself. He was rock hard and his face was ten million degrees with how red he was getting. She tilted her head at him, one hand gently cupping his dick and balls through his underwear. Almost innocent with how focused she was on him, lips slightly parted, her free hand clinging to his leg. If he didn’t know better, he would have thought she was an angel.

“Do you want to fuck me, Jungkook?”

Oh, god, the way his name floated out of her lips like an ocean wave crashing into his soul. His resolve crumbled like a sandcastle. His mind was going blank except for the thousands of fantasies he had about Yoongi’s girlfriend. No one could shame him if they stayed in his head, right? No one could see him if he was rubbing one out in the shower, or on his bed, or fuck, even in his damn kitchen. It was his apartment! No one was going to know.

She wasn’t Yoongi’s girlfriend anymore now, right? Who cared what happens now?

“Fuck yes, I want to fuck you,” Jungkook nearly begged, grinding his hips into her hand.

She grinned devilishly at him and yanked his underwear down. He gasped as she leaned in and licked his cock, nice and slow, trailing over his balls.

“Ah, n-no… I’m dirty…”

She smirked. “Only going to get dirtier with me involved.”

His head hit the wall as she took one of his balls into her mouth. It was instant warmth and wetness, pleasure soaking deliciously into every fiber of his being. Oh, fuck. Her mouth was so soft but tight, tongue circling around him as she worked him. His hands were flat against the wall and the pathetic whines were most certainly him, but Jungkook couldn’t register them at all because he was trying to not ram her in the face with his hips. The head of his cock smeared against her cheek and he shuddered at the sensation. Such soft skin. She lifted it, switching sides. He moaned much too loudly, chanting her name as she tugged lightly, bobbing her head up and down. So warm. So wet.

She hadn’t even actually sucked his dick yet and it was leaking everywhere.

When he thought he was going to burst, she finally released him and planted a sloppy kiss on the head of his cock, tongue expertly sliding out to rub against the bottom of the head. If she slowed down for one fucking second, then he might have made a much sexier noise than his yelp as she enveloped his cock with his mouth, eyes glued to his reaction as she went down, down.

“Oh, fuuuuuuck,” he groaned, eyelids fluttering.

He could feel the head being squeezed by the back of her throat. Her tongue caressed the bottom, ever so slightly swiveling her head from side to side. Each movement made the head of his cock rub against different cervices, his breath hiking with pleasure. After a moment, she moved back a little and then slowly bobbed her head up and down, mouth so wet Jungkook thought she was going to spill, but her lips were tight against the base of his cock. When she slid up, she would squeeze the base of the head with her lips and then suck him in. She steadily increased her pace, eyes closed, brows furrowed in concentration. The head of his cock rubbed deliciously against the roof of her mouth, sending sparks dancing down his spine.

In short, how was he supposed to get normal blowjobs after this?

Jungkook gasped, feeling the familiar tightening at the base of his stomach.

“W-wait, I’m going to–”

She went even faster, what the actual fuck–

He moaned as he came, cock jerking in her mouth as he felt her suck it out of him, swallowing infuriatingly calmly as if this was routine for her. It was a lot more than he thought he could produce and she held his hips in place, licking the sensitive head gently as the last few drops were milked out of him. Jungkook shivered, realizing he was panting heavily as if he had run ten miles. She pulled back slowly, opening her mouth. His cock slid out, slapping against his thigh wetly as a string of saliva snapped between it and her tongue.

Was this what nirvana felt like?

“Hey, Jungkook?”

He snapped out of his reverie, eyes going wide. “What? What, is something wrong?”

She chuckled and wiped her lips with the back of her hand. “Nope, just wanted to say you tasted good today.”

Today? Did that that mean there were more days in the future? His mind reeled as she stood up and kissed him lightly, the bitter saltiness of his own cum lingering.

“Still want to fuck me?” she said, leaning against his chest.

His mind was still hesitating but his body answered for him. “Yes.”

She hugged him around the waist, eyebrow cocked and waiting for his reaction. Jungkook nervously chewed on his lip, lost in her eyes. He wanted to be trapped in her gaze forever. His hands slid up her sides, pulling her to him. She smelled like dark cherries, invading his senses.

“Why me?” he whispered, throat dry.

Her hand stroked his cheek with a smile.

“Why not?”

Her thumb grazed against his lower lip, teasing it from his teeth.

“I want to fuck you, Jungkook.”

He kissed her, hungrily, feeling her smirk against his lips. They stumbled to his couch, Jungkook’s legs getting tangled in his sweatpants and underwear. He frowned and kicked them away impatiently, yanking his hoodie over his head. His hair came out disheveled and fluffy. Jungkook shook his head to unstick the hair from his face. She tried to hide her laughter behind her hands and he pouted, shoving her onto the couch. The hem of her dress hiked up, revealing the tops of her juicy thighs. Jungkook froze.

She wasn’t wearing panties.

He saw the flash of her wet, glistening pussy before she closed her legs, sliding up against the couch.

Yup, his cock was awake again.

“You…” Jungkook was lost for words.

She reached into her leather jacket and held out a condom. “Yes?”

Jungkook gulped. He moved a little closer, knowing this was a terrible idea and probably not going to end well, but for some reason he really didn’t care. His hands were still on the sofa, on either side of her. She placed her hand on his, lightly caressing his knuckles. Eyes on his, watching him closely.

“I shouldn’t do this,” he said.

She nodded. “Yeah.”

He inhaled deeply, smelling her cherry perfume and the scent of sex. “I shouldn’t want you.”

Her fingertips tapped against the back of his hand. “There are worse things in this world.”

Jungkook chewed on his lower lip nervously.

“I shouldn’t be in love with you.”

Her lips curved into a devious smile.

“Oh, yeah. I know.”

Jungkook leaned down, heart beating fast, head foggy as if he was drunk. Her words sounded a little bitter even though she tried to keep her tone light-hearted. Maybe she didn’t want to hear the word love right now. But the moment he said it, Jungkook knew that was how he felt. His eyes flickered to hers.

“Promise me this isn’t the last time.”

Something flitted across her expression. She seemed to realize how serious he was. After a moment, she nodded slowly.

“Okay. Promise.”

He kissed her, hard, not hesitating anymore. His phone was buzzing loudly on the coffee table and he could guess who it was, but he ignored it, hands cupping her face, planting kisses on her cheeks and lips. She laughed against his kisses, soft and sweet, and for the first time since she had arrived, she sounded happy in his arms. They made it a little game, dodging each other’s lips when they tried to kiss the other until they were breathlessly grinning like a pair of idiots.

Jungkook sat up, smile plastered to his face. He took the condom from her and put it on, discarding the foil wrapper to the floor. He looked up to see her shrugging out of her leather jacket and pulling her dress over her head. No bra either. Her breasts bounced into view, making his mouth water. She tossed the dress aside and smirked.

“Think you’re drooling a little, Jungkook.”

He quickly touched his lips but there was nothing. She laughed, pushing him against the sofa. He pouted but it turned into a moan as she sank down on him, sighing in satisfaction. So warm, so wet, so tight.

“You didn’t let me stretch you out,” Jungkook whined, gasping as the last inch slid in. Fuck, she was so damn tight.

She seemed pleased, tongue between her teeth as she smiled at him. “I couldn’t wait.”

He pouted. It was obvious she did it on purpose. She didn’t seem hurt and she didn’t move right away, placing her arms around his neck and squeezing him with her thighs. Her pussy clenched around him, relaxing before squeezing him again. Wait. Jungkook’s eyes widened as he realized she was squeezing him like that on purpose. Voluntarily.

“How am I supposed to last more than two seconds?” he frowned, sucking in a breath as she began to move, sliding up and down with ease.

She hummed smugly. “That’s what next time is for, right?”

Jungkook highly doubted that she was ever going to give him a break. Her face was far too smug for that. He reached up and massaged her breasts, gasping as she increased her pace. She moaned as he rubbed his thumbs against her nipples, teasing the tips with his nail. He had thought about these breasts a little too much. It felt surreal to have such softness in his hands. Her dress must have had built-in cups because her large nipples were hard, jutting out at him. Jungkook imagined them poking out from under one of his t-shirts and groaned, thrusting up into her.

She gasped, clutching his shoulders. An eyebrow raised in question.

“What’s going on in that head of yours?” she asked playfully.

Jungkook felt his cheeks burn. “A-ah, just… imagining you in my clothes. With nothing underneath.”

She chuckled and leaned forward, lips against his ear. Her tongue traced against his earlobe.

“That could be arranged.”

His moan became a needy whimper, ramming his hips up again.

“Wanna make you cum for me,” he mumbled, hands sliding down to her hips.

Her teeth caught his earlobe, breath hot against his skin. “Go for it.”

Jungkook wanted to start off slow and make it last but he was too horny and worked up for that. He fucked her from below, kneading her ass as he did so, gasping as she squeezed him every time he came up. Her breathing became labored, pulling him close, breasts bouncing against his chest as she gasped out his name, longing and lovely. He felt her hand slide up and bury into his hair, her back arching.

If this meant he was being used, well, fuck, he would do it again and again.

“F-fuck, Jungkook, harder, please.”

He obliged, setting his jaw as he slammed her down on him, relishing in her sweet sounds and the lewd, wet slapping of their hips.

“Fuck,” she hissed, pulling his hair hard as her pussy clenched, spilling around him and leaking onto his thighs and balls, thick and viscous like honey. Oh, god, it even smelled good, the scent of her orgasm so strong that Jungkook felt the familiar tension straining in his lower stomach, so close to his own. It only took two more thrusts and he groaned, slamming into her hard as his cock shot out into the condom, his cock throbbing inside her tightness, pussy squeezing him until there was no more.

It took a moment to float down from the high. She laid against his chest, the mess between their legs probably soaking into the sofa. He would have some cleaning up to do after. Maybe some unexplained stains.

She wrapped her arms around him, chin on his shoulder. He couldn’t see her face but the breath exhaled told him enough. Satisfied, relaxed, a little apologetic. Jungkook rubbed her back, kissing her neck softly.

“Need a shower,” she murmured.

Jungkook grinned. “Lucky for you, I have one right here.”

She really did have a beautiful laugh.

-

when you kiss me, I know you don't give two fucks but I still want that, your savage love

--

masterpost

[novantinuum]

Fandom: Steven Universe

Rating: Teen Audiences

Words: ~800

Summary: Steven can’t help but dread the undefined cocktail of emotions that trigger this newest power…

12 shorts, each delving into Steven’s developing opinions and feelings about his “pink mode” in SUF.

Chapter 7: A scene after Together Forever.

Updates weekly. If you read this and enjoy, I’d greatly appreciate your support through reblogs here, or kudos/comments on AO3. Thank you! <3

____

Steven doesn’t let himself truly cry until he’s out of Garnet’s sight and alone in his room, in a place where he no longer has to be subject to all her high and mighty lecturing on things like love, fusion, and the pursuit of ‘healthy, balanced relationships.’

Those first tears are laced with what he can only describe as foggy resentment. (At Garnet? Connie? Himself??) His expression remains nearly motionless as they pool at the corners of his eyes and slowly carve canyons down his ruddy cheeks. Vision blurred by his remorse, he thrusts the half-empty cake box on his desk, remnants of buttercream frosting smeared across his lips. He’d have eaten more, but after stuffing three serving’s worth into his mouth to mask the ache of his sorrow, his stomach’s conceived to betray him, churning and upset from all that sugary sweetness. Ughh, it’s a gastrointestinal nightmare. With his recent diet changes, he’s not used to ‘sweet’ anymore. Clutching his midsection with one arm as he rides this latest wave of discomfort, he roughly wipes the frosting off his face. He clenches his teeth through the crest of this pain so hard his jaw aches.

Oh, well. He made all these stupid choices all on his own. It’s only fair for him to face the just consequences.

Illuminated solely by moonlight, the heartbroken teen sheds his blazer and flip flops, abandoning them to the middle of his floor like the picnic he childishly destroyed by the cliffs. He shuffles dejectedly towards his bed, pleading with every yearning fiber of his soul for a reality where it might envelop him between its folds forever and he could finally be done, finally rest. His first real sob breaks through as he drops headfirst into his comforter, staining the covers with his salty, usually curative tears. There’s no curing this mistake, though. There’s no repairing the damage he’s wrought this time.

Because he’s ruined his relationship with Connie forever.

Snapping bright pink in a heartbeat at the mere thought of her name, he slams his fist against his bedspread, the resulting shockwave causing the furniture to rattle. Stars, he’s so stupid! What on Earth ever made him think she’d want to spend her whole life stuck with such a selfish, unstable disaster of a person? Hoarse cries bubble up from his chest as he rolls into his back, feeling utterly isolated and defeated, the glow receding as the brunt of his self-directed anger fades. An awful part of him desperately wants to be mad at Connie, at Garnet— because wow, existence would be so easy if he could simply blame others for every inconvenience and hardship he’s ever faced— but deep down in his heart he knows they’re both right. He and Connie, they’re too young to marry, much less fuse forever. Stevonnie won’t make him stop feeling any less directionless, won’t help him control these ugly diamond outbursts, won’t fill that aching chasm in his soul. And thus, the only soul left to blame is himself.

Steven shifts on the bed at that point, suddenly unable to ignore the existence of that hard plastic ring in his back pocket, weighing his body down like lead. With his bottom lip quivering amidst his weeping, he rolls on his side so he can reach back and retrieve it. It’s still softly glowing when he brings it in front of his face. His upset stomach churns at the untimely reminder, the ache deepening right behind his gem. He can feel a new rush of hard light flood through his body, feel as that glowing pink threatens to envelop him again and let his power explode outwards and blast his surroundings to shreds like he did to the picnic on the beach, but he has to hold it back, has to contain it, control it, because... he lets out a bitter sob... because if he doesn’t, then everyone in his life will finally discover how messed up and awful he is and he’ll finally succeed in destroying every single relationship he has left, just like he irreparably destroyed this one.

And then?

No one will need him or even want him ever again.

Gritting his teeth as he desperately holds this glow at bay, he grips the glow bracelet and rips its ends from the connector piece, throwing this tiny hunk of plastic at the wall in a fit of temper. He doesn’t deserve to be loved, anyways. Not by her. Not by anyone. No, he deserves to suffer, to put up with his stupid upset stomach, to ache from loneliness. After all, he chose this path. And the consequences... in the end, those bitter consequences always catch up. Justified.

He cries himself to sleep that night, clutching that glow stick to his chest.

____

Notes:

Hah, so- I know the glow bracelet is intact and in the freezer in Growing Pains, but I was trying to match this short to one of my old art pieces, which is why Steven tore the connector off. Just imagine he gets up the next morning, puts it back together, and throws it in the freezer where he doesn’t have to see it. Maybe he can’t fix his relationship with Connie, but he can fix this one tiny thing.

Also, like... in reality, Steven didn't "ruin his relationship with Connie forever," but alas the depressed mind is scarily adept at warping one's perception of events as it sees fit.

[98prilla]

To Catch a Selkie

What a fool, he was.

 He liked to think himself smart, he liked to think himself clever, but he was anything but, currently.

 Curiosity had always been his downfall, his failing, his one deadly fault. He would pursue answers to the ends of the earth, fascinated by a world that wasn’t his, that he had been warned time and time again was dangerous, but he hadn’t listened, had he?

 And now, well, now his life may as well be over.

 It was already fading, the memories of the sea, of ocean water, of slipping between the waves smoothly and sleekly, his pod around him. The pups playing, splashing, sidling up to the dolphins, the braver ones to the whales.

 He had thought himself brave, once. But now he knew better. Reckless, that’s what he was, stupidly reckless.

 He was cold. Cold was an unusual feeling for him. He’d never known real cold before. His coat always kept him warm.

 But his coat was gone, now. Stolen. Just like every story he’d ever been told by his kin, every folktale warning of humans and their greed, he had succumbed to his own hubris.  

 He wouldn’t leave this beach. This was as close to home as he could get, just far enough away that the water wouldn’t touch him, the spray couldn’t reach him.

 It was agony. It was torture. Watching the tide roll in, the gentle lapping of the waves, the spray of the salt, the clouded, windy sky, stretching out across that blue oasis.

 He shivered, arms tightening around his middle, curling against himself, salty tears spilling down his face.

 It hurt, stars above, it hurt. He could feel them calling to him, begging him to come home, to answer their calls, but he couldn’t, he couldn’t if he wasn’t touching the sea, and he could never touch the sea again.

 “Hey! Are you ok? What are you doing out here?” He looked up at the worried voice, meeting green eyes and black hair, with white streaked bangs.

 “What do you want?” His voice was flat, empty, exhausted. The stranger furrowed his brow, confused.

 “I don’t know if you noticed, but you’re barely wearing any clothes, sitting on the beach when a thunderstorm is rolling in, in the middle of autumn. Do you have a death wish, or something?”

 “maybe. I haven’t quite decided yet, if it is better to die now or slowly waste away pining for the sea. Or perhaps my owner,” he spat the word, bitter on his tongue, “will find me and the last of my memories will fade until I have nothing left but an empty, yearning, desperate desire for something I can no longer name.” The stranger stared at him for a long moment, taking him in.

 He was wearing ragged shorts, no shirt or shoes or anything else. His hair was smooth and silky, despite his constant exposure to salt water. His face was sharp and angular, what he supposed humans considered breathtakingly handsome, with his large, dark brown eyes and perfectly tanned skin. He supposed that’s what had got him into this mess in the first place.

 He doubled over, clutching his head as a resounding, echoing cry keened through his mind, and he shot to his feet, barely restraining himself from rushing into the water, eyes wide and breaths heaving.

 “no. No! I’m here! I’m right here, I’m not lost! PLEASE!” He screamed at the waves, knowing they couldn’t hear him, knowing they wouldn’t hear him, ever again.

 Leaving him. They were leaving him. They were giving him up, they were migrating to new waters, they were marking him as lost, and the worst part was, as much as he hated it, as much as it tore him to pieces, they were right.

 It was only logical. He had come ashore and not come back within 24 hours. It was too dangerous for anyone else to come ashore and search, not when they didn’t know what had happened, not when he might have been discovered, not when there could be others waiting.

 Selkie coats sold for quite a fortune, after all.

 So did the selkies they were attatched to.

He let out a harsh sob, would have collapsed to the ground if the stranger hadn’t caught him, lowered him gently to the sand.

 He was doomed. His connection to the sea would grow weaker, his connection to his coat stronger, until he was forced, compelled, to go to it, to go to his master, to obey his orders.

 And everyone knew what happened to selkies whose coats were stolen. Everyone knew what humans wanted with the alluring, beautiful, mysterioius sea folk.

 Yet another loss, to shatter him, break him, soon his body, and worse, his mind, would no longer be his own. He was owned. Like a thing, like a toy, like a doll. Just the thought made him ill, truly, throwing himself into the sea and dissolving into the foam was the best possible option.

 He was freezing. Or he thought he was. He was so cold he didn’t even feel cold anymore, a pleasant, fuzzy warmth filling him, as cold droplets began to fall from the sky. Each one left him feeling slick and slimy, like swimming through oil. It left him feeling dirtier than before, and he shuddered at the feel of it, bile rising in his throat.

 The stranger was saying something, he thought. He couldn’t hear him over the buzzing in his ears, the cotton filling his head with fear/panic/pain/despair/longing. It was too much, it was too cold, it was too futile, and his brain shut down before he could drive himself further to madness.

 …

Swimming. The water parts around him, as he swims. There’s a voice, calling him onwards, pulling him towards it. It sings with power, it glows with warmth, with the promise of all the answers he’s ever searched for, all the knowledge he could ever wish for, and he drives his tail faster through the water, towards the light.

 Then it turns cold. Ice wraps around him, the water freezing, he can’t reach the surface, he can’t breathe, he’s running out of air. He thrashes, trying to escape the chains he can feel, dragging him down, words echoing through the water.

 “Come to me.” Burns, it burns, he won’t, he can’t, he-

 His eyes flew open and he let out a strangled cry of pain, squeezing his eyes closed and counting his breathes, shoving and fighting that voice until it abated, faded away into nothing, and he pulled his knees to his chest, hugging them tight, still shaking from the call.

 It was so strong, already. So hard to resist, though he had been asleep, which made it more difficult to fight, but still. How long until it was completely enthralling? How long until he lost himself forever?

 With another jolt of panic, he realized he wasn’t on the beach anymore. There had been a blanket draped around him, he was on a couch, in a house, and he felt his pulse speed. Had he already been caught? Were they just keeping him captive until his owner arrived? He had to fight, he had to think, he had to do something!

 He looked around the room, a coffee table sat in front of him, a bookshelf against the wall, photos sitting on a shelf, an entertainment set with a television, nothing out of the ordinary, nothing he could use.

 He froze as he heard footsteps, eyes dilating, and he bared his slightly too sharp teeth, hissing a warning as the human came into view. His hands were held in the air, and he took a step back, eyes lowered to the ground. Everything about his body language screamed I am not a threat, I don’t want to hurt you, and despite himself, he let his guard down. It was the stranger from the beach.

 “You stopped hissing. Does that mean you’re not gonna bite me?” That got a small laugh out of him, the innocence and pure curiosity in the human’s tone.

 “I am not. Why am I here?” He asked, uneasiness churning in his gut.

 “Well, you passed out on the beach, and it looked like you had hypothermia, your lips were turning blue, seriously freaked me out, so I had to get you indoors and warmed up. We’re at my apartment, right now. My friend is also here, but, um, we decided it was best I come talk to you, since you already kinda knew me.” Well meaning, then. “I would have called someone, for you, but you didn’t have an id or anything, so, we were just waiting for you to wake up.” And considerate. Not intent on keeping him hostage then, that was a relief. Not that it mattered much.

 “So… you’re a selkie, yeah?” He shot to his feet at that question, teeth bared again, fists clenched, eyes flashing as he backed up against the wall, so no one could get the drop on him. How did he know that? Had he gotten him wrong? Was he just holding him here until his owner arrived? How else would he know?

 “Remus! What did you do?!” He whipped his head as a new person appeared in the doorway, growl dying on his throat as he saw the new stranger. Dark violet eyes, pitch black hair, dark shadows around his eyes, pale and lanky.

 A Night Sylph. A spirit of air, tied to darkness, helping to bring the night and protecting the creatures of it. He himself may not be a creature of air, but a Sylph wouldn’t allow anything to harm a mythical, not if they hadn’t acted against his creatures first.

 “I apologize. I did not realize your friend was a Sylph. Not many humans could identify a Selkie, much less one without their coat. I was afraid…” He trailed off, unable to bring himself to say the words aloud, his shoulders slumping and hands relaxing, as he felt the Sylph’s concerned eyes on him, gaze softening.

 “it was stolen.” The sylph said softly, not a question, but he nodded anyways, unable to speak past the lump in his throat, eyes watering again. “how long?” He took a shaking breath.

 “36 hours and counting. My pod is already moving on. I give myself another 12 to 18 hours, before I have no choice but to go to Him.” He whispered, the sorrow washing through him nearly drowning him.

 “That is not going to happen. We are not going to let that happen.” His eyes shot up, the Sylph’s voice fiery, his eyes glowing with his determination and fierceness. The human nodded, hand slipping into the Sylph’s, eyes just as hard and cold.

 “We’re gonna find that coat. We’re gonna find that little bitch, and I’m gonna beat the shit out of him, for even daring to lay a hand on it.” His mouth was agape, looking between the two, confused, but feeling a small bubble of hope start to build in his chest.

 “why?” his voice is so small, but he doesn’t have it in him to be any louder.

 “Because it’s wrong! It’s slavery, and it’s hurting you, and it’s cruel.” The human replies, and the Sylph smiled at him softly.

 “I’m Virgil. This idiot is Remus.” Virgil said, bumping Remus’s shoulder lightly, Remus rolling his eyes.

 “Logan. You can call me Logan.” Virgil nodded, carefully coming just a bit closer as he looked over Logan.

 “Why don’t we sit down, and you can tell us what you remember. That’ll give us somewhere to start.” He nodded, sinking into an armchair, knees once again pulled to his chest.

 “Do you want anything to drink? Or eat?” Remus asked. He shook his head, and Remus sat on the edge of the couch, Virgil perching on the arm of it. Eating anything now would just make him sick, his stomach was so tied in knots he could barely breathe properly.

 “I… it’s blurry. I was in town. I was in… in a park. I like to look at the plants, at the trees. I had my coat with me, obviously, I can’t go anywhere without it. It was wrapped around my shoulders, like a shawl. Then… then suddenly it wasn’t. Someone grabbed it, from behind me. I was stunned, I tried to chase, I only got a look from behind. Light hair… tall, I… he looked at me. Eyes, mismatched eyes. He didn’t try and take me, he knew he didn’t need to. Knew I would be forced to come to him, now that I’m stuck on land.” He shivered, remembering the glint in the man’s eyes, the smug smile on his face.

 “What happens? If you go back to the water without your coat?”

 “Remus!” Virgil hissed, but a wry smile crossed his face.

 “I… die. I dissolve, into the ocean, into the waves, into nothing. As if I never existed. Not… not the worst option, truly. At least then I’d be home.”

 “no. Logan, that is not going to happen. You won’t have to make that decision.” He flinched at the hand on his shoulder, looking up at Remus’s soft, kind eyes.

 “We’re gonna find him, Lo. I promise.” He simply nodded. He knew the probability of them retrieving his coat in time was low, but he was willing to let them try. He didn’t have any other choice.

 “I can tell it hasn’t left town. That’s all I know.” Virgil hummed in thought.

 “Well, you got a fair description of him, not that many people have heterochromia. And we know he knew what you were, so it’s someone with knowledge of mythicals. Probably a collector, or someone who works for them. That narrows it down quite a bit. I’ll go scope things out, find a likely area. You’ll be able to feel it, if it’s close, yeah?” Virgil asked, and he nodded once more. “cool. Remus, stay with him. I’ll be back soon.”

 “What should I do?” Logan asked, and Virgil softened further.

 “Try and get some more rest. You’re still exhausted, and it’s only going to get worse the longer you’re away from the water. Build up strength now, while you can.” He didn’t think he’d be getting much rest, not with the fear and anxiety filling his every pore, but he acquiesced anyway.

 “Are you cold?” Remus murmured, feeling his forehead. He let out a harsh laugh.

 “I’m always cold, without my coat. Nothing else feels… right, or warm, everything else itches or scratches or…” He trailed off in frustration, raking his hand through his hair, surprised as Remus slid into the chair next to him, before pulling him onto his lap, wrapping his arms around him.

 He was warm, stars above, Remus was warm, and he couldn’t help himself, as he melted into the touch, warmth surrounding him for the first time in what seemed like forever.

 He didn’t understand, why it was so easy to surrender himself to this human, didn’t know why he felt safe, why it warmed him so deeply from the inside out, when so recently he had been irrevocably wounded by a human. He didn’t have the energy to care, though an answer niggled in the back of his brain.

 Something about Remus being so passionate, barely knowing him, yet reading him as easily as a favorite book, the way he was so willing to fight for him, the way he didn’t for a moment seem to hesitate, in anything that he did.

 He didn’t know him. Barely knew him for more than five minutes. But he’d somehow never felt more right.

 “This better?” Remus whispered in his ear, and he let out a small hum of agreement, eyes fluttering shut as the warmth brought out the overwhelming ache for sleep in his bones.

 Remus looked up in time to catch the small smile on Virgil’s face. Virgil saw him looking and shot him a thumbs up, before quietly vanishing out the door, a wisp of soft fog against the air as he shifted into his ethereal form.

 …

 The beach. Water lapping on the shore, sun shining warm and bright. He can hear his pod, off in the distance, can see the pups’ heads popping up through the water, splashing and playing. He calls out to them, wading into the water.

 He swims towards them, but the faster and harder he swims, the thicker the water seems to get, the darker the sea becomes around him, his family vanishing into the distance. He tries to call out, but his voice is locked in his throat.

 He can’t breathe. He is choking on the water, it is filling his lungs, it is dragging him down, blackness surrounding him as he sinks into the depths. He claws at the water around him, he screams, bubbles leaking from his mouth as his mind goes fuzzy.

 “Come now, little pup. Stop resisting. You’ll feel so much better, once you just give in.” The voice is smooth and silky, sweet and warm as honey. He shouldn’t listen, he knows he shouldn’t listen, but he can’t quite remember why.

 “That’s right, lovely. Come home-��

 “Logan!”

 He jolted awake, heart racing, unsure where he was, what was happening. He was pinned to the floor, wrists held down, and for a moment he thrashed, panic blinding him, before the soft tone cut through his haze, and he relaxed, head thumping back against the floor, tears forming in his eyes.

 “Logan?” Virgil, from the doorway, he heard the door close. He must’ve just gotten back. Remus’s face came into view above him.

 “You back with us?” He nodded, and Remus carefully released his hold on his wrists, supporting him as he helped him sit up. Instantly, Logan took stock of the scratches on Remus’s arms, the four bleeding cuts across his cheek, and he buried his head in his hands, shoulders shaking.

 “I’m sorry. I couldn’t…” He broke off, sighing raggedly.

 “He was calling you. You couldn’t help it, Lo.” Virgil said softly, resting a hand on his shoulder.

 “I’m sorry.” He whispered again, feeling Remus wrap his arms around him.

 “It’s not your fault. You scared me, more than anything. I could tell you weren’t… you. You were trying to leave, I had to grab you, and you just started clawing at me. Caught me off guard, but I’ve had worse than this, trust me.” He half laughed at that, the panic starting to settle into something a bit more tolerable.

 “Did you find anything?” He asked, wiping at his eyes, looking up at Virgil, who pursed his lips.

 “I think so. Rumors, an old warehouse, downtown. Strange noises, strange lights, nothing confirmed, but I did a quick flyby, I didn’t go close, Remus,” Virgil commented at Remus’s stern glance, “Just enough to get a sense, and there was a faint spell around it, to divert attention. Just enough to make it uninteresting to any humans, who don’t already know what to look for, anyway.” Logan got to his feet, a bit wobbly. The overwhelming need for the ocean was pounding in his pulse, pain in his chest, and it took a moment to steady himself against it.

 “Let’s go, then. What are we waiting for?” He asked.

 “Logan, pal, you’re in no shape for a raid.” He shook his head.

 “It doesn’t matter. Any longer and I will not be able to resist the next call. That one was so strong, I have a few hours, at most, before I will be completely incapacitated. And you can bet you won’t be able to find it without me, he will have hidden it, somewhere, hidden it well, if he’s smart. It is now or never, as I believe your saying goes.” He sounded more sure than he felt. A slight ache was pounding at his head, and he felt slightly dizzy, a bit off kilter, but he couldn’t let that stop him. This was their best chance, their only chance.

 Virgil and Remus exchanged a glance, a silent conversation held in their eyes, but after a few moments, Remus nodded and Virgil sighed. Logan was right, and they both knew it.

 “Alright. Let’s do this.”

…

 His pulse raced as he stared at the unassuming building. He could feel it, feel it, feel it. He couldn’t look away even if he wanted, eyes trained on the doors.

 “Here?” Virgil asked lowly. He nodded, hands shaking with anticipation. It was close, it was so, so close.

 Carefully, they snuck around the side of the building, managing to find an unlocked window. It was a tight fit for Remus, but Logan was slender enough he slid through easily, and Virgil simply flowed inside in his noncorporeal form.

 They landed with soft thumps inside the darkened warehouse, and instantly, they froze at a soft, bell like sound.

 “Kiddos, what are you doing here? Run!” A small, musical voice hissed at them. They turned their heads, surprised to see a small birdcage sitting by the window, a tiny, winged figure clutching at the bars, giving off a soft blue glow. Virgil’s eyes widened, and he was instantly examining the cage, biting his lip as he assessed the lock.

 “Don’t worry, Spriggan. I’ll have you out in a jiffy.” Virgil murmured, eyes deepening in their violet glow, as air swirled around the lock. His gaze intensified, the air around him almost buzzing. Then the lock popped open.

 The sprite gasped softly as Virgil opened the cage door, fluttering to the edge, almost hesitant to step outside.

 “It’s ok. I promise.” Virgil whispered, and the sprite fluttered out, a quiet, disbelieving laugh ringing out as he flew a few laps around Virgil’s head, before settling on his nose and hugging his forehead as far as his tiny arms could reach.

 “Thank you, thank you, thank you, Sylva. But you have to go! You have to leave, now, before he-“

 “Finds you? Please, Patton, I knew they were here from the moment they stepped inside.” Instantly, the sprite was gone, buzzing out the window as fast as his wings would carry him, leaving the three to spin around and face the darkness alone.

 Logan gasped, icy fear plunging into his heart as he met those gold and brown eyes, that arrogant smirk.

 “Give it back. Now.” Virgil growled, and the figure laughed, a dangerously soft sound.

 “As if you are in any position to bargain. You did just cost me my Sprite. Though I suppose a Sylph is a fair trade, an upgrade, even.” He mused. Virgil hissed, eyes flashing as he shifted incorporeal, a dark splash of smoke as he swirled up and away.

 “As if you could catch me.” The stranger’s smile widened.

 “Oh, you do amuse me. I think you will be a new favorite of mine. I will enjoy watching you struggle.” He snapped, and golden light flared to life around him, golden strings unspooling from his fingers, twisting and turning through the air. Virgil dodged and weaved, avoiding the threads that were spiderwebbing through the rafters, slowly closing in on him.

 Remus growled, and charged at the man, who lithely stepped out of the way, as he stumbled past him. He felt something coil around him, sending him falling, and he looked up to see a huge, hissing golden serpent wrapping tight around his body. He jolted as Virgil cried out, and he saw him falling through air, landing hard on his back on the ground, gold thread squeezing around him. Then the snake bit into his neck, and the world blurred.

 “Remus!” Logan lunged towards him, halting mid step at the soft glimmer he caught in the corner of his eye, slowly turning to face the sorcerer, eyes locked on the soft fur coat held in his hands.

 It shimmered, gray and black, smooth and silky, and for a moment, Logan could feel the ocean around him, could see the endless waves, could taste the salt, could feel the cool relief of water.

 “There now, little pup. Isn’t that better?” He purred. Logan couldn’t breathe. His heart was frozen in his chest, he couldn’t even bring himself to blink, the want, the overwhelming need filling his soul, his very being. Slowly, despite himself, he nodded.

 “Logan… no…” a voice begged weakly. Distantly, he thought he knew that voice, but his coat was all he could see, the gold and brown imprinting into his soul, and his whole being relaxed, putty in his veins.

 “Now, lovely, why don’t you come with me?” Emptily, he nodded, following the sorcerer’s directions, his hand on the small of his back guiding him into a small, dark, room, and he passively sat. His mind was fuzzy, soft, barely aware. Something was wrong, something was very wrong, but the feeling flowed over his head, lost in the heady buzz filling his chest.

 Dimly, he felt something cold clamping around his ankles, felt something hard clamp around his wrists. He whimpered, trying to move, but a voice shushed him.

 “None of that, now, darling.” A hand caressed his cheek, tilting his chin up to meet gold and brown. They stopped his breath, they sucked him in, and he was drowning in those hypnotizing pools, slumping weakly back against the wall. “Wonderful. Oh, you are a pretty one, aren’t you?” He felt those hands turning his chin, examining him, before stepping away with a dark chuckle. Logan’s head fell back against the wall, eyes blurred and unseeing, mind empty and buzzing with soft, hazy warmth. “Don’t worry your pretty little head about a thing, lovely. Jussst sssleeep.” His eyes fluttered shut, the man's voice echoing softly through his mind, recognizing dimly the feel of a spell weaving into him, taking him into a dark, empty oblivion. He didn’t hear the door shut, the lock turn, didn’t notice the pure black darkness of the room. He didn’t notice or feel or think anything. Not anymore.

 …

 Virgil was dying. Or he thought he was. He couldn’t breathe, he couldn’t… there wasn’t any air, he couldn’t live without air, he was air, it was his being, he needed it. He gasped in a choking breath, managing to raise his head just enough to see. He was in a large, glass cylinder. He could see a grate at the top, could feel it, it was a vacuum, he was trapped in a vacuum, he was helpless, he was defenseless, he was trapped.

 Roman. He could see Roman, through the glass. He was tied to a chair, he could see the sorcerer circling him, taunting him, if he had to guess, and he tried to do anything, tried to get to his feet, but he only succeeded in falling to his hands and knees, dizzy and gasping and consciousness fading, but he couldn’t, he couldn’t leave Remus to this mess all on his own.  

 But it felt like a thousand pounds of rocks sitting on his chest, it felt like the weight of a mountain pressing down on him, and he weakly clawed at his throat, desperate for air, any air, as his vision flickered, dimming.

 Then, suddenly, shattering glass. He wheezed in a desperate breath, kneeling on broken glass, barely getting his bearings as another lungful of air filled him with power.

 He didn’t have time to wait. He shot to his feet, eyes flashing electric violet, form dissolving and coalescing into a menacing, flashing cloud of angry black, shadows growing throughout the room, darkening everything. A low growl rumbled, like thunder, and then the room was filled with crackling, sizzling lightning.

 …

 Roman woke tied to a chair. He groaned, a bit surprised to be waking at all. He had thought for sure that snake was going to kill him.

 “Hello there, dearie. Pleasure to meet you properly.” He hissed, struggling against the rope, glaring as those eyes came into view, the man leaning casually on the arms of the chair, too close in his space.

 “What do you want?” He spat, not ceasing his struggle, even as the stranger tutted, tilting the chair back on its back legs as he circled it.

 “You see, I was going to kill you. Just a human, just in my way, too much care and desperation to stop chasing me, not when I have your little pets.”

 “They aren’t my pets. They’re my friends.” The man just chuckled, slamming the chair back down on all four legs, causing him to bite his tongue so hard he tasted blood.

 “But then I realized something. You are not the simple human you appear to be, are you?” He froze, breathe catching, before his defiant mask slid back into place.

 “I don’t know what you’re talking about.” The man tutted again, grabbing his chin and forcing himself to stare into those eyes.

 “Liar, liar, little changeling. Why didn’t they want you, I wonder? Stunted growth? Crippled limb? Ah,” He snapped, “Crippled magic.” Remus winced, jerking his chin out of his hold, glaring at the ground. “Bit touchy, are we?”

 “Fuck off.” He looked up, and spat directly into that smug face, enjoying immensely the expression of pure shock and outrage that twisted his lips as he wiped away the bloody spit.

 “Oh, you will pay for that.” Then the room exploded in lightning.

 “-us! Remus!” He groaned, slowly blinking his eyes open, blinking again as a soft glow of blue buzzed across his vision.

 “Virg? What… what happened?” Virgil rubbed the back of his head, shooting him a sheepish grin as he helped him sit up.

 “Got a little heated. Lightning went a bit haywire. Gave you a good shock, on accident.”

 “How did you get out? And I thought you left us!” Remus accused, getting dizzy as he tried to track the sprite’s nervous fluttering.

 “He left to go get help. Something you should have done before charging into a trap!” Remus groaned, looking up as someone reached out their hand, helping pull him to his feet.

 “Really, Patton? You had to go get him?”

 “You’re lucky he did! What were you thinking, Ree?” He shrugged, meeting the identical face of Roman, his changeling counterpart, the human that had been taken in his place and grown up with everything he should have had, should have been. Which, turns out, wasn’t actually all that great, so he supposed he actually kinda owed Roman.

 Still, by the time they’d met, they’d both spent more time in each other’s realms than their own. Roman was more fae than human, and Remus was more human than fae, so they decided to keep their roles, their homes they’d made for themselves. They hadn’t even known what they were, until their early teens.

 “we couldn’t wait for you. He’s a Selkie, Ro, we didn’t have time.” Roman softened a bit at the distress of Remus, sighing.

 “you panicked. I get that, Remus, I do. It just… scared me. Seeing Virgil like that, seeing you…” Roman trailed off, shaking his head, wry smile on his lips. Remus’s eyes widened, gaze flying through the room, skating over the sorcerer, who was now bound to an upright support beam with shimmering, nearly invisible thread. Faery thread. There were very few things that could break it, certainly nothing the sorcerer had on hand. He didn’t care.

 “Logan. Where…” His eyes locked on a door, and he sprinted over to it, growling as he tried the handle, finding it locked. He didn’t wait for Virgil to pop it, instead he kicked it with all his might, sending the door slamming open.

 “Remus!” Virgil hissed, appearing at his side, but he barely noticed, instead falling to his knees, Logan filling his entire vision, fury clouding his mind at the chains shackling his wrists and ankles to the floor.

 “Get them off.” He hissed, unsure who he was even talking to.

 “Virgil, you’ll have to do it. They’re enchanted against magical meddling.” It took Virgil longer than normal to pop the locks, the enchantment making them a bit trickier to handle, but finally, they were all removed, and Remus carefully pulled Logan onto his lap.

 “Logan… wake up, please.” He gently shook Logan’s shoulder, but the Selkie remained limp and still as a corpse. His face was too pale, his breathing deep and slow. He brushed back Logan’s hair, frowning at the warmth of his forehead, realizing too his skin was dry, flaking.

 “he won’t wake up. He’s sick.” He looked helplessly up at Roman and Patton, who was sitting on Roman’s shoulder, wings fluttering nervously.

 “We need to find his coat. Now.” Virgil muttered. Remus stood, still cradling Logan, snarling as he entered the main room, eyes aflame as he glared at the sorcerer, who was now awake, eyes glinting with almost amusement.

 “What did you do to him?” He snarled, spitting, mere inches away. The sorcerer simply smirked.

 “Whatever do you mean, little changeling?” Remus growled, would have punched him, if he wasn’t holding Logan in his arms, then Virgil was at his side, carefully moving him back, getting in his line of sight.

 “Logan-“ Virgil shook his head.

 “I know. But we will handle it. You and Patton go take care of him.” Remus hesitated, but his shoulders slumped and he nodded.

 “alright. Just kill him for me, won’t you?” a ghost of a smile flitted across Virgil’s face.

 “Oh, we’ll do one better. We’ll make him wish he were dead.”

 …

 Roman turned to face the sorcerer, hands clasped behind him, Virgil leaning against the wall in the shadows, still shaky.

 “I believe I’ve heard of you. You’re a freelancer for ‘collectors’.” He spat the word, ash in his mouth. “Deceit, I believe you go by.” The sorcerer’s smirk didn’t drop, but something wary shifted in his eyes. “Usually you’re more careful than this, to my knowledge you’ve never been caught in the act, before tonight.” That seemed to hit a nerve, Deceit’s eyes narrowed.

 “How many creatures have you ‘caught’? Torn away from their homes and condemned to torture and captivity and slavery? They have homes, they have families, they’re people!” Virgil spoke up, eyes electric, each word crackling.

 “It you protected them better I wouldn’t be able to catch them.” Virgil recoiled, then surged forwards, flying around Deceit’s head so fast all the oxygen was sucked out of the air.

 He finally pulled back, coalescing next to Roman, satisfaction rushing through him as the sorcerer coughed, wheezing in breaths.

 “Where is his coat?” Virgil demanded, meeting Deceit’s glare with his own.

 “Why don’t you ask your little selkie, hmm? Poor thing can’t find it? Oh, that’s right,” he snapped, “you can’t. And nothing you do will change that.” Roman’s eyes flashed, and the string tightened, causing Deceit to hiss in pain as the sharp strands cut through his skin. “You don’t even know what you have, do you? For all your self importance, you really are an idiot. Nothing in the world will make me give up that coat.” The strings dug in deeper, beads of red leaking through the torn fabric of his clothes, slicing through flesh like butter.

 “Explain.” Virgil hissed. Deceit rolled his eyes, not saying a word.

 “Fine. Hard way then. Virgil, tear this place apart. I’ll tear his mind apart. If there’s one good thing about being raised by seers, it’s this.” Before Deceit could move, Roman had pressed his hands to each of Deceit’s temples, mind foccused on one thought only. “See.”

 …

 “Well?” Remus asked, looking down at Patton, who was kneeling on Logan’s forehead, hands glowing softly. The sprite slumped back on his knees, exhausted.

 “I can tell it’s a spell, some kind of sleep spell. It’s strong, too, nothing I can crack, but nothing that explains why he’s sick like this. Selkies don’t get sick like this, no matter how far from the water they are. I don’t know, I’m sorry.” Carefully, he scooped Patton up in his hand, setting him down on his shoulder.

 They were sitting in the back of the van, Logan laid out across the backseat, his head resting in Remus’s lap as he nervously ran his hands through Logan’s hair. He didn’t understand, Logan had been relatively fine just a few hours ago, now he was burning up under his hands.

 His eyes shot up at the sound of the door opening, gaze flickering between Roman’s sympathetic brown eyes and Virgil’s thin lipped stare.

 “did you get it? Please, please, tell me you got it.” Roman wordlessly handed him a soft, silky seal pelt. Remus nearly sobbed in relief, wrapping it around Logan like a blanket, stroking his cheek.

 “wake up, wake up, wake up.” He whispered, almost a prayer, searching Logan’s face for any sign of movement.

 “remus. He’s a direct descendant of Sedna. That’s why he’s ill. He literally cannot survive on land. He’s… he’s dying.”

 “Then let’s go! What are we waiting for?” He demanded. Roman and Virgil exchanged a look, one that he didn’t miss, sadness and something soft in their eyes.

 “We’re too far from the ocean. We won’t get there in time.” A sob clawed its way out of Remus’s throat, and he shook his head.

 “NO! No, we promised him we’d get him home, we promised him! So get in the car and FUCKING DRIVE!” He screamed, tears streaming down his cheeks.

 “Remus-“

 “Just do it. Please. We still have a chance, there’s still a chance.” He pleaded.

 “Even if we get him back, we have no way to break the spell. He won’t survive.” Remus glared up at Virgil through watery eyes.

 “We’re not going to just do nothing! Now get in and drive or I’ll do it myself.” Remus hissed. Virgil and Roman exchanged another glance, and Patton patted his neck in sympathy, but they complied without another word.

 …

 Logan was shaking. Chills wracked his body, and he was heaving in raspy, unsteady breaths. Sweat covered his hair, sticking to his forehead, and his face was paling even further, as the life drained out of him one breath at a time.

 “Come on, Lo. Just hold on, just hold on for me.” He murmured, trying to keep his own voice steady and reassuring, trying to keep his own panic from swallowing him whole.

 “We’re here.” Virgil breathed out, the car jolting to a stop, Roman not having bothered with the parking lot, pulling directly onto the sand, as far as he could. Instantly, Remus bolted to his feet, oh so gently lifting Logan into his arms, bolting for the water, tucking his coat tightly around him.

 His shaking had stopped. As Remus ran, he realized Logan’s shaking had stopped, he couldn’t feel him breathing anymore, he couldn’t feel his heartbeat. They were nearly there, nearly to the water, he couldn’t die now, they were so close, surely he was still holding on.

 He gasped at the shock of cold water, not stopping until he was up to his knees, Logan floating in the water before him, his arms holding him so his head was above the surface.

 “Logan… come on, please, Logan, please, wake up, wake up, you stupid seal!” He shouted, tears streaming down his face at Logan’s lifeless form, limp and still, head lolling with the waves.

 “Remus… he’s gone…” Patton, he had darted out to Remus had settled on his shoulder once more, looking back to Virgil and Roman, who were waiting on the shore. Another sob tore from his throat, and he shook his head, pulling Logan close, burying his face in the selkie’s soft hair.

 “no. nononono we got him home! He can’t… he can’t… he can’t just steal my heart and then die before I can tell him, he can’t just leave, he can’t!” Remus sobbed, shoulders shaking, wishing for all the world Logan would open his eyes. He would give anything, for Logan to open his eyes.

 “would you, child of fae, human in nature? Your kind are cruel, cold. What would you truly give, to bring him back?” He didn’t look up at the softly accented woman’s voice. He knew, some part of him knew.

 Sedna. Goddess of the sea, mother of all of its creatures, guardian and vengeful spirit of the ocean and all of its depths. Logan’s biological mother.

 “anything. I would give anything.” He whispered, meeting her deep, infinite dark eyes, that sparkled with all the mystery of the darkest deepest depths. He saw his own sorrow reflected ten fold there, though her gaze hardened as he met her unfathamoble eyes.

 “Choose your words carefully, mortal fae.” His breath caught. He’d spent enough time around Roman, around other mythicals, to know that tone, that careful wording.

 “What do I have to do? What do you need from me?” He asked, and the goddess actually hesitated, almost taken aback by his intensity. She held out her arms, and relunctantly, he let her take him.

 “oh, my heart, my soul, my babe. What have they done to you?” She murmured softly, kissing Logan’s forehead. “but even still…” she gathered herself, looking up at Remus, something softer in her eyes now, a desperate sort of hope. “A life. Willingly given, willingly gifted. Only then can you hope to find him.” Remus let out a low chuckle, though it lacked any mirth.

 “You had me worried there. For a second I thought it might be hard.” He met her eyes, once more, drowning in them, a soft smile tinging his lips. “My life, huh? It’s not much of one, I’m afraid, but you can have it. Willingly and no regrets. Not… not if it gives us a chance.” Sedna nodded once. He didn’t have time to even hold his breath, before he was pulled beneath the waves.

 “NO!” Virgil screamed, as Remus was pulled under, in an instant swirling out to Sedna, his form blurred as he hovered above the waves.

 “This is not of your business, Sylph.” She stated, not looking away from Logan, and Virgil hissed.

 “Like hell, it isn’t.” She looked up at that, eyes sharp but sympathetic.

 “It was his choice to make. If his love is pure, they will both come back to us. Have some faith.”

 “If it isn’t two innocent lives were lost today.” He growled,

 “Innocent lives are lost every second, Sylph. At least this has the chance of righting a wrong.”

 …

 He is sinking. He can just barely see a faint halo of light, but it is far, far, far above, and fading fast.

 Where is he?

 He tries to remember, tries to wrack his brain, for what this dark, endlessly sinking abyss could be, but the farther from the light, the blurrier it all gets.

 There’s something important, he should be doing. Yes, there was something urgent, something he was looking for, but it is hazy now, and he doesn’t know what it is or was.

 He doesn’t know who he is.

 That should be worrying, but it isn’t. Not here. Here, it feels inconsequential. Everything seems small and meaningless, and he thinks he would be perfectly content to drift down and down and down in this darkness for eternity, thinking of everything and nothing, letting the darkness swallow him until what’s left of his awareness fades.

 But something pulls at him. Something forces him to open his eyes, to take a deep breath, something he’s surprised to find he can do underwater. Or, he thinks he’s underwater. For the first time, he looks around.

 He’s surprised to see shapes, in the darkness. Some have outlines of color, just faintly flickering, some are gray, and fade in front of his eyes, but all are drifting listlessly, down and down, and somehow he knows that the deeper they go, the more they fade, until nothing is left.

 That sends a jolt of panic through him.

 Logan. He has to find Logan.

 He doesn’t know quite who that is, but the name lights something inside him, and though it takes all the will in his body, he forces his limbs to move. He forces himself to swim downwards, searching, searching, searching-

 There! A faint flicker, a faint something, that tugs him closer. It was so dark, he could barely see where he was going, but he didn’t let up for a moment, not when his lungs began to burn, not when he felt his limbs start to go numb, not when he could see the outline of himself flickering in and out, his mind going hazy.

 He pushed forwards, and suddenly he was there, grabbing onto the ethereal form of Logan, pulling him close, and without thinking, he pressed their lips together, exhaling all of his air into Logan’s lungs, breathing all of his own life into Logan, his eyes slipping closed as Logan’s dark ones flew open, his surprised gasp inhaling the last of Remus’s air, and the world blurred, his outline fading quickly to gray, and his last thought was the hope that Logan would live enough life for the both of them.

 …

 Remus gasped, coughing, heaving in huge breath after huge breath, vision blurred from tears, every part of him sore and aching as he choked on the air.

 “Remus.” His eyes jerked up, and he met deep browns, that perfect, beautiful face, and Logan reached out, cupping his cheek, wiping away the tears slipping down his face, as he let out a small, desperately happy laugh. Then he leaned forwards, crushing their lips together, feeling Logan melt into his touch, hands tangling in his hair, and even after their lips parted, Remus didn’t let go, nuzzling against Logan’s hair, silent tears still falling.

 “how… what…” he whispered, unable to form the words he was looking for. How was he alive, how was he here, how was Logan here, how had he lived, when he’d given his entire soul to breathe life back into Logan.

 “You love me.” Was the somewhat awed, somewhat small answer from Logan, and he pulled back slightly, just enough to meet his eyes, a smile dancing across his lips.

 “yes. I love you, Logan.” He replied, somehow melting even more at the soft, adoring gaze Logan was bestowing upon him, his lips quirked at the corners in a small smile.

 “You were willing to give your life for mine. Even if you couldn’t live to live with me, even though I would gain everything and you would lose all, you would still have given it freely. That intent, was enough. It was a test, of sorts. And you passed, Remus.” Logan intertwined their fingers, and Remus couldn’t help it anymore as a desperate, relieved sob shook his frame as he fell into Logan’s arms, crying into his shoulder.

 “you still have to go. You still have to leave, go back to the water. I’m still losing you.” He choked out, feeling Logan brushing his thumb over his knuckles. He heard Logan chuckle softly.

 “Not quite. You still gave me part of yourself, part of your soul. And you now hold some of mine. We’re tied together now, Remus. Anywhere you step I can also. Anywhere I pass through so will you be able.”

 “but… you won’t get sick? You won’t… I won’t keep you, I won’t make you stay, you don’t have to stay.” Just the thought of forcing Logan to stay made him ill.

 “I know, Remus. I know you wouldn’t. I know you would never take my coat, I know you would never force me to do anything, I trust you. It won’t make me sick. We can spend time, between land and sea, there’s so much I can show you, Remus, worlds you wouldn’t even be able to imagine.”

 They both looked up at the sound of hesitant footsteps. Roman was approaching, having kept his distance and given them space on the shore, where Logan had pulled Remus, just out of the surf. Virgil was still speaking to Sedna, form flickering with displeasure and anger, while she was nothing but calm and placid, the soft glow of Patton clear on his shoulder.

 “Remus. If you ever do something like that again I will strangle you with my bare hands.” Roman muttered furiously, eliciting a high laugh, Remus soft as he met Roman’s eyes for a moment, understanding passing between them without a word needing to be spoken. “And Logan… take care of him. He’s a lot softer than he’d like you to believe.” Remus huffed in indignation, melting with a happy hum as Logan pressed a kiss to his cheek, causing the selkie to shake his head in amusement.

 “I will. I promise.” With that Roman nodded, walking several yards down the beach before simply vanishing.

 “He’s such a drama queen.” Logan chuckled.

 “Nothing at all like you, I’m sure.” Remus snorted, tilting his head back, to look up at Logan, his Logan, His.

 “We should get you indoors. You’re sopping wet, and it’s cold.” Remus nuzzled closer to Logan, gently butting his chin with his head.

 “Good thing I’ve got you, then, keeping me warm.” And before Logan could argue, he had captured the selkie’s lips once more, lost in a different, amazingly beautiful kind of warmth.

[ashintheairlikesnow]

Disaster Lads: A Collab, Part One

This is part one of a five-part collab piece I did with @whumpiary! In which our disaster lads meet and the inevitable ensues. 

CW: Referenced drugging, forced drinking, referenced past noncon, some dubcon fuckiness and trauma response headspace. Things get darker as we go, and more explicit, too. But also Kauri flirts and it’s adorable. Just a fair warning. I’ll do warnings for each individual chapter as we go.

Tagging Kauri’s crew:  @maybeawhumpblog, @pepperonyscience, @haro-whumps, @18-toe-beans, @burtlederp, @finder-of-rings, @giggly-evil-puppy, @whimpers-and-whumpers, @moose-teeth, @whump-it, @lumpofwhump, @pumpkinthefangirl, @spiffythespook, @slaintetowhump, @astrobly

Kauri isn’t entirely sure how it happened, but somehow his back is against a wall, a drink is in his hand, and there’s a man leaning over him with that grin on his face that Kauri usually likes… but today, he doesn’t.

The bar is kind of dark, and there’s a band playing something that mostly sounds like sad yelling over geese honking to Kauri, but everyone had cheered when the band came onstage so maybe he just doesn’t get the music. He’s not even dressed for the bar, honestly - he’s in his big black zip-up sweatshirt, Dustin’s so it hangs off his shoulders and his hands are mostly covered by the sleeves. A thin thrift-store t-shirt and ripped-up black skinny jeans, the faded old checkered slip-on sneakers he’s had forever… he looks halfway homeless.

The guy has him cornered anyway, and Kauri is feeling all the other drinks he’s let guys buy him tonight, kind of spinning and silly with the alcohol in his veins. It makes it easier not to feel uncomfortable, but part of him is. 

He wants to say no, but the word sticks in his throat.

“Come on,” The guy says, leaning over him - it feels like looming - and pushing even closer into his space. “I bought you the drink, the least you could do is a little something for me in return.”

I don’t want to, Kauri thinks in something like a panicked wail.

The man’s knuckles brush the side of his throat and it’s probably a flirtation but Kauri thinks of Owen’s hands around his neck - it feels like a threat.

“Wh-what… what did you have in mind?” Kauri’s voice is airy, a little breathless. His heart is pounding, his face is flushed, and maybe he looks into this… but he’s not. But it kind of seems like the guy maybe knows and doesn’t care.

“A lot of shit, honestly, you’ve been on my radar a while, but first… let’s start with you finishing that drink.” He reaches out and takes the glass out of Kauri’s hand, raising it to his lips. The first sip of syrupy-sweet cocktail seems more like liquid ash on Kauri’s tongue. “You’re a pretty cute drunk.”

“Am… am I?” He asks when the man lets him stop drinking. “I, I don’t want-”

“Have another drink,” The man interrupts, and pushes the rim of the glass against his lips again.

Cass had been watching the guy with the curly hair and the cute smile on and off all night. Partly because he's pretty. Partly because he looks like he’s dressed for a soup kitchen rather than a bar. But mostly because he looks familiar. Annoyingly familiar, in a way that’s maybe more significant than ‘hey didn’t we fuck in a bathroom stall one time?’. 

The girl Cass has been chatting to is very, very, very boring. Stupidly boring. So it’s ridiculously easy to focus his attention just over her shoulder at Curly Hair and the guy who’s got him pressed against the wall in the corner, and the pink drink that’s being held up between them, fed to the shorter of the two like it's the holy fucking grail.

Desires are sticky. Syrupy. And in a bar like this, with music like this, with people like this, revulsion is bitter and obvious. Like whiskey in apple juice. Like smoke under perfume.

Cass wishes he'd had more to drink. A couple more vodka tonics and he'd probably refuse to give a shit. But he's annoyingly sober, and he can't help but notice Curly Hair sort of glance around, looking for an exit that doesn't exist.

Cass watches as he smiles, tilts his head. Cass' stomach lurches. He's seen that head tilt. Fuck, Cass has given that head tilt. I want you to want me but I don't want this.

“Hey Kirsty," he says, serving a grin to the blonde next to him. She frowns. 

“It’s Kristie.”

“Right. Kristie,” Cass says. Easy smile, a finger tracing circles on the back of her hand. “You wanna go dance? I’ll catch up in a sec”

The girl pouts, grabbing his hand, “Aren’t you gonna come? I kinda thou-”

“Kʀɪsᴛɪᴇ, ɢᴏ ᴅᴀɴᴄᴇ.”

The girl's frown melts into a grin faster than she can notice what’s happening and nods her head enthusiastically, like dancing had been her idea in the first place. And then she’s gone, melted into the pulsing mass of bodies. 

Cass needs to get out of here. In a bar like this, with music like this, with people like this, the feeling of I don’t want this is so loud and grating it makes Cass’ heart catch in his throat. And then there’s the other guy. Cass can feel the fucking lust pouring off of the guy. Not just the desire for an easy lay but the absolute exhilaration of a predator who’s got dinner trapped. Or is about to, Cass thinks, eyes following the asshole’s gaze to where they're fixated on a sickening cocktail he’s feeding the smaller guy.

Cass pushes himself away from the bar. He needs to get out of here. He needs to get out of here before he does something stupid because he promised Lou he wouldn't pick anymore fights and because this is none of his business and just because the guy seems familiar doesn't mean Cass knows him but he still finds himself snaking to the corner, anyway, grabbing the tall guy by the elbow- 

“Hey, do I know you from somewhere?” he says, feigning rapt enthusiasm.

The taller guy looks Cass up and down. His hair is annoyingly perfect. Like if you tapped it, maybe it'd make a sound like knocking on hard plastic.

“I don’t think so,” the guy says, shark teeth twisted into a grin. Cass watches as his grip tightens minutely on the glass he’s holding. Yeah, fuckhead. Wouldn’t want to lose that, now would we?  “If you don’t mind, we’re kinda busy.”

And he's turning back to Curly Hair, who is melting into the wall, a skittish mess of maybe he’ll talk to the new guy - if it’s what you want then I want it - I don't want this - just say no kauri you can just say no - I want this I want you - just say no stop it stop - no just drink it don’t make him mad - I don't want this and Cass really fucking wishes he'd had another few drinks because then he could just walk away, but instead he hits the cocktail careening out of Tall Guy's hand, a spectacular pink mess over the guy's crisp white shit.

Kauri flinches back, hands up over his mouth, staring wide-eyed at the mess.

"Shit, dude. Sorry. I'm such a klutz," Cass grins, holding up innocent hands with a shrug. "That roofie wasn't expensive or anything, was it?"

And sure, maybe this was none of his business, but it's so satisfying when the guy shoves him into the wall. Maybe even more satisfying than the sound of the crunch of the guy's nose breaking as Cass headbutts him in the face.

The guy stumbles back, hands over his nose as blood starts to pour, screaming half-formed curse words that are muffled by his hand and the nasal sound of his voice. From behind the bar, a bartender yells, “God damn it, no fighting! What the fuck, Kauri?!”

Kauri curls back against the wall, his wide, frightened eyes going from the bloody pink-stained man to the new guy who had hit him with his whole entire head and back again. “I’m sorry!” He shouts back to the bartender. “I’m sorry I’m sorry! I’m sorry!” 

“Yeah, well, do something about it!”

Kauri gives the bartender a look of incredulous terror. He’s 5’7” and all lithe, willowy flexibility and he has the brute fighting strength of a very small kitten.

“Like what, exactly?!”

The guy drops his hand - the bottom half of his face is a mess of blood now - and with a snarl, pulls his fist back to punch Cass again. 

“Stop them fighting over your dumb hot ass or I’m calling the cops, Kauri!”

The name sticks in Cass' head as he lets the guy land another punch, hard on his cheek.

"Kᴀᴜʀɪ, ɢʀᴀʙ ʜɪs ᴀʀᴍ," he says, on impulse, because the guy is kinda huge and Cass isn’t particularly strong, and he’s been in plenty of fights but he usually only stops them by not really being conscious anymore. 

Kauri’s hands snap out thoughtlessly, grabbing the guy’s other arm and helping Cass shove him face-first against the wall, only to freeze up, eyes widening even more in terror as he has no idea why he just did that. 

"You better calm the fuck down, man," Cass says, twisting the guy’s wrist so it twinges just a little behind him. He feels amped up and shaky with adrenaline. He hopes he looks as feral as he feels. The big guy blinks, slow and stupid as he tries to catch up with what just happened. "'Cause either I'm gonna kill you or the bar staff are gonna call the cops on your ass. And we both know what they're gonna find in that glass.”

The guy's eyes widen in shock, then narrow. “You can’t prove-”

“You roofied me?” Kauri asks, as though the multiple comments Cass had made had only just sunk into his mind. He felt himself reel with horror, trying to pull away, but his hands just… don’t want to let go of the man’s arm. Panic was a drumbeat in his mind. He knows what roofies are, Nat told him about those, and that they taste kind of salty but there was a salt rim on the drink the guy bought him-

“You were going to roofie me?”

“That jackass broke my nose!” The guy yells, although it comes out more like dat jackash boke by dose. Cass kind of wants to interject that he probably didn't break the guys nose, but it doesn't really seem like the time. “I’ve been talking to you all night and you just believe some asshole that walks up and punches a stranger?”

“I… I…” Kauri cringes back from the fury in the man’s voice. He’s going to be hurt, and he’s terrified, and the only thing on earth he wants right now is to get out of here and away before the man’s hands are around his neck just like Owen’s, it’ll be like that, he’ll hurt and hurt and then pass out and if he can just maybe make nice the guy will stop being angry-

“I, I’m sorry, you-... you did buy me the drink, that was… that was nice… but, but if he saw you-"

"He didn't see shit." 

The guy did not seem to realize that that wasn't exactly denying he'd done it. 

Cass feels cold fury run through him. He can feel the lust-turned-sour, good-night-wasted annoyance that the guy in front of him is vibrating with. And the panic pouring off of Kauri, so palpable and crystalline it may as well be his own. The want to run away, to get out of here, to back down, to apologise, make nice. They mingle together in his head.

Who the fuck tries makes nice with the asshole who was gonna drug them? He tries to ignore the ‘you sure used to’ that creeps into his head.

Cass doesn't care. He wants to run away and he wants to get out of here but more than that he wants to make someone bleed. This guy walked into the bar tonight, sought out the most vulnerable guy he could find and thought prey. He deserves to know what that feels like. He flips the guy around, pressing a hard hand to his chest to keep him flush to the wall.

“I think I’m gonna call you Scooter,” Cass says “You look like a Scooter”

“The name’s Matt, jackass,” the guy growls. It takes way too much effort to pronounce the M. Cass grins. Matt, huh?

"Alright, Mᴀᴛᴛ. Tᴀᴋᴇ ᴏᴜᴛ ᴛʜᴇ ʀᴇsᴛ ᴏ�� ᴛʜᴇ G ᴛʜᴀᴛ's ɪɴ ʏᴏᴜʀ ᴘᴏᴄᴋᴇᴛ. Gɪᴠᴇ ᴜs ᴀ ʟᴏᴏᴋ,” he says. The guy blinks, reaches mindlessly into the pocket of the shitty jeans he’s wearing and pulls out a nondescript little bottle. Matt is staring at the drugs like he can’t imagine how they possibly got into his hand. Cass grins. It’s nice to stare at a predator and make them feel small. "I think he should have to drink it. What do you think, Kauri?"

"Jesus Christ," Matt says, nasally and strangled. "Why did... What the fuck, I should knock your teeth out!"

Kauri grabs the pill bottle out of his hand and tries, despite his hands shaking so badly the fucking bottle rattles, to look like he's reading, carefully keeping his eyes unfocused so they won't try to settle on or understand the letters. Kauri steps closer to them both, putting his hands up slowly, like a man being held hostage. 

"Look, you guys, we can just… nobody has to fight," He says, pitching his voice lower, cocking his head just a little to the side. "The bouncers are gonna kick us all out in a second and, and I don't need-... We don't need that, right? Matt? We don't need to, to have anybody closer than this. Just us, right?"

His heart hammers, heartbeat so strong it's nearly knocking the breath out of him. His voice is airy, and soft, and just a little flirty under the fear.  

You can fix this. No one calls the cops, no one tells, no one looks too close.

"You didn't n-need that, I'd have… have gone with you anyway, Matt…"

Kauri, you can't say yes if you don't know how to say no. He ignores Nat's strident voice in his head and slides just a little closer, the rise and fall of his chest and the whites around his eyes the only giveaway of his fear. He can see bouncers and he has to make this better before too many people are looking at them. 

Matt snorts a kind of bitter, angry laughter, then winces as that burns his injured nose. "You would. The ones like you always do, right?" 

Kauri freezes, all the color draining out of his face. The bottle of pills drops to the floor and rolls away, kicked by someone walking by and getting lost somewhere in the crowd. "What?" 

"Tell your fucking White Knight to fuck off," Matt says reaching out to grab Kauri's left wrist. "Kauri Grant."

Cass doesn't have time to figure out why the fuck that name sounds so familiar. All he needs to know what's happening is in that look on Kauri's face. He's seen that look. God, he's given that look. Whoever Kauri Grant is, he needs to be the hell away from here. Now.

"Okay, seriously buddy, we don't want anymore trouble," he tries, taking a quick glance at the bouncers closing in behind them "How about you let this go and we do too?"

"I'm not letting go of shit," says Matt, with a smile full of blood. He has one hand locked over Kauri's wrist, pushing up against the leather bracelet there. "Do you have any idea how much this little whore is worth?"

Cass swings the punch before he even has the chance to think what that could mean. Which is maybe not a great move, actually, with bouncers headed their way and a bar full of patrons who are starting to look over. It's especially not a great move because Matt swivels, jerking out of the way, sending Cass' fist straight into the side of Kauri's skull. 

Kauri's world crashes at the impact, stumbling back and falling hard onto his side on the floor, head bouncing against the sticky woodgrain, blinking against the black spots dancing in front of his eyes. 

It doesn't stop the panic. 

Kauri Grant Kauri Grant Kauri Grant

"Y-you can't," he tries, his voice sounding weird and off to his own ears, pushing himself up. "Can't, can't turn me in-"

"I wasn't going to, before that little shit showed up," Matt says with a nasty note of triumph in his voice, one Kauri knows too well. "The guy who just hit you."

Kauri manages to stand up, catching the bouncers too close, too close, and he grabs onto Cass's arm. "He was… was trying to hit you," Kauri says, voice shaking. "And you-... tried to drug me."

"Like no one's ever drugged you before," Matt sneers, and Kauri swallows, hard, and doesn't protest. Matt waves at the bouncers. "Hey! This is Kauri Grant!"

The frozen fear in Kauri thaws and he jerks at Cass's arm to yank him not towards the door but deeper into the bar, pushing through the crowd towards the other side of the stage. 

Kauri Grant Kauri Grant Kauri Grant

Cass knows that name, why does he know that name?

It doesn't matter. What matters is they get the hell away from here right now. He turns in Kauri's grip to look over his shoulder, locks eyes with the asshole who seems intent on ruining this poor bastard's life. 

"Mᴀᴛᴛ," he yells as he's hauled away into the crowd, "Sʜᴜᴛ ʏᴏᴜʀ ꜰᴜᴄᴋɪɴɢ ᴍᴏᴜᴛʜ."

It's not exactly elegant but Matt slams his jaw closed so hard Cass can see him wince against the jolt of pain through his bashed in face. Cass cackles as they disappear into the mass of bodies on the dancefloor.

He feels high. There's twin feelings gripping his chest, the thrill of a fight and the blinding panic of running away. The rush of beating someone at their own game twisted with the knowledge that they need to get the hell out of here before they're caught.  He has no idea what's happening but it's fast and it's thrilling. It's making him dizzy, making his blood pump electric. He barks another laugh as he dodges some random guy's elbow, grips Kauri's hand even harder and lets himself be pulled.

"God, who the fuck is Kauri Grant?"

Kauri pulls him to a small door labeled EMPLOYEES ONLY just to the side of the stage, shoving it open and stumbling out into a dark alley, the sudden chill on his skin the only reason Kauri realizes he's sweating.

Out here the noise is gone, there's the sound of sirens far away, and Kauri's eyes dart around, thinking, before he pulls Cass to the right, further down the alley, stepping over refuse and empty beer bottles. 

"I… I am," Kauri says, voice thin. The side door they just left opens and he pulls Cass quickly against the wall with him to hide behind a dumpster. "I'm Kauri Grant." He swallows hard, panic still beating at the back of his mind, and slowly slides down the wall to sitting, putting his head in his hands. 

"You hit really hard for how skinny you are, d'you know that?"

Maybe it’s the sudden cold, or maybe it’s the way Kauri’s holding his head, but waves of exhaustion and regret and fear hit Cass all at once. He ducks down as voices and noise filter wide and loud, and then go squashed and muffled again with the swinging of the door. 

“Fuck man, I’m so sorry,” he mutters, ducking his head to assess the damage. “I didn’t even think”

He reaches out a hand, pulls it back before contact. He really doesn’t know how to do this. The whole… God, what did Fuckhead McGee call it? The whole White Knight schtick. Is he meant to go find ice? Buy the guy a drink for his troubles? Usually when he finds himself kneeling on the wet concrete of an alley in front of a stranger it’s for a very different reason.

Cass sits back on his heels and laughs, loud and unabashed. He’d listened to that girl at the bar talk about her boyfriend for forty minutes when he should’ve been finding some pretty guy to sneak away with. And then he found a pretty guy and punched him in the face. Which… wasn’t always a dealbreaker, but even in the now relative quiet of the alley his heart is still slamming like there’s something to run away from and his brain feels cracked open and Jesus Christ, this night is already just so fucking dumb. 

“Sorry. I’m sorry,” he says between giggles. He tries to calm it down to a grin. “I swear I’m not laughing at you, Kauri Grant. Did I, um…Is your head okay?”

"Yeah, my head's fine. I've been hit before," Kauri says, not quite muttering, rubbing his hand into his black curls. "Not usually in the head, but, you know, it's kinda empty anyway." He flashes a bright, deflecting smile, looking up at Cass. 

Kauri's head cocks slightly to the side, something in his smile changing, softening a little. Not quite flirtation, something more in self-defense. "Can you just say Kauri, please? I don't, um, I don't like his name. Very much. It's just, that's what they call me…" His voice trails off. "Thanks for, um. For catching that guy… I didn't know he put something in it... I didn’t know he knew.”

Cass frowns a little, trying to understand. Didn’t know who knew what?

"Okay you have to back up, you're giving me more questions than… than answers right now..." 

But then the pieces of Kauri he's seen through the night start falling together. The skittish eyes that didn't match with the flirting smile. Thanking the guy who would have happily held him limp in a basement. The wanting and wanting and wanting paired with the desperate need to run away. 

The ones like you, that guy had said, looking at Kauri like he was something to be eaten. The ones like what? The ones who met conflict with apologies and desperate bids for distraction. His eyes flick to the bracelet on Kauri's wrist, thick and leather and out of place amongst the rest of his "robbed a Good Will" ensemble and too wide, really to be stylish. Just wide enough to hide a tattoo, maybe. Or a brand.

I don’t like his name very much. Cass feels himself paling.

"Oh my god, you're somebody's," he whispers. He closes his eyes and scrubs a hand over his face. Swallows the dry lump in his throat. "You're meant to belong to somebody."

Kauri jerks his arms back against himself, pulling the sleeve of his sweatshirt over the bracelet about ten minutes too late. 

He looks up at Cass, blue eyes wide and pleading, and reaches out his hand to brush his fingers against Cass's hand, pitching his voice lower. 

"You, you don't have to tell anyone. That I'm, um. You don't have to. I can… I can-" He has no idea how to say this. He focuses his thoughts on what he knows, falling back on training. I want this. I want you. I am an active participant in fulfilling my owner's desires. 

"I can, um. Whatever you, you want, if you won't say you saw me?" His voice shakes - he can't seem to stop it. He has to hope it sounds like the good kind of nervous and not the terror he really feels. 

Cass feels his stomach drop, something catching in his throat as fingers brush the back of his hand again. The tug and pull of I want this. The tilt of Kauri’s head is so tempting it looks rehearsed. I want you.

“That’s…” Kauri’s eyes are gorgeous — huge and blue and desperate — and Cass has to close his own just to think straight. “That’s not what…  I, um.”

I want this. I want you. Resolute and relentless against his thoughts. I want this. I want you. Over and over and over again. Frenzied and pleading and wanting and fucking terrified.  I want this. I want you. 

Cass curls his fingers around Kauri’s, running his thumb along the other boy’s palm. I want this. I want you. Something in him feels shaken up and loose at the hinges from feeling it. It feels wrong. Too familiar, too close to home, too close to… something. Please let me want this. Please want me too.

Cass closes his eyes again, shakes his head. Maybe it’s just the after effects of being knocked crooked. Cass did punch the guy in the face. And it’s been kind of a fucked up fifteen minutes. Maybe they both just need the distraction. The relief of something simple and easy. And if they're both actively participating in something dumb and fun and stupid, maybe it’ll be enough to make them both feel better. 

“Look, I’m not… I’m not gonna say anything,” he says, tugging Kauri’s hand closer, tracing a line up his arm. I want this. He smiles, let’s the pulse of it spur him on “We can just have fun, okay? I’m not gonna say anything”

Relief washes over Kauri, a wave of it that nearly knocks him over. He’s doing it right, his voice is right, all the training is working and letting him slide into an easier place in his head. His smile isn’t quite sincere and it doesn’t quite reach his eyes, but the relief in it is very real. 

Besides, the guy is cute, and Kauri would’ve gone home with him, too. 

The ones like you always do.

There’s an unease - he doesn’t always like that things like that are true, about him - and he chases it away by closing his eyes and focusing his thoughts. I want this, I want him - and that part definitely isn’t a lie - and I’ll be safe if I give him this. 

“Okay, um, th-thanks,” He says, voice just a little breathy, ducking his head with another shy smile.”I’m, um, I’m up for basically anything, basically always.” He gives a cheeky little grin and a laugh, like that’s a joke he tells to a lot of people and has memorized the timing on. “Just, I’m not trained for-... I don’t go in for pain. That’s it. Hey, so, um, you know my name… what’s yours? So I know what to scream later.”

He’d heard that in a movie once and always kind of wanted to say it.

Cass laughs, broken harmony against Kauri's own. The line is lame but it doesn’t really matter. Kauri makes it charming. He is ridiculously good at this.

"Cass. But usually people just stick with ‘oh, God'," he laughs, moving in closer, grin against grin. He leans in to brush his lip against Kauri's jaw, slow and teasing, hands staying steady on the guy's knee as Kauri hitches in a breath and shivers, turning his head to give Cass a better angle for it. "And I go for anything."

He wants this. They both do. The relief of something familiar and safe. Just a minute of stupid normal. I want this. Cass plants a kiss at the corner of Kauri's jaw. I want him. Cass lets his hand slide from knee to thigh. I'll be safe if I give him this. Cass pulls himself closer in, brings his fingers up to tangle in the dark curls at the nape of Kauri’s neck and… and… 

I'll be safe if I want this.

The wave of revulsion that runs through him is slow and sickly, like hot tar, like molasses. Familiar and foreign in the same mouthful. 

"Sorry. I, uh," he pulls back and he can feel the ghost of Christopher's hands on his hips, pulling his hair back, lips against his cheek – Don't hesitate, darling boy. Show me what you want.

“Hey… you okay?” Kauri murmurs the words, and it’s with real concern, shivering at the feeling of Cass’s fingers in his hair, slipping his own hands to touch lightly at his ribs on either side, a question and a test. 

Cass feels adrenaline gripping him but that's fine, that's good, because wanting and fear walk the same line anyway. I'm an active participant. Which doesn’t feel like the shape of a thought that’s his but is close enough to that it doesn’t matter. He wants this. It's safer to want it. Then you don't have to think. You don't have to feel. That's why places like this are fun, why nights like these are so good.

So like every other night like this, he pulls in close to prettiest guy in the bar, pushes down the resistance in himself, and kisses him fucking senseless.

Kauri’s head tilts back and up for it, twisting his fingers hard into Cass’s shirt to pull him in even closer, until his head bumps back into the wall behind him and he loses his balance, falling back to sitting on the ground with a soft, sweet little laugh, a breath of air before he lets Cass kiss him mindless again.

The safest he’s felt for weeks is times like this, a man’s hands on him, a man’s mouth on his, knowledge and certainty that someone wants him, that he has something to give other people, some way to earn their kindness and repay it. His hands slide up Cass’s neck to tangle in his hair, too, pulling him in as close as he can get on the ground in a dark alley, skin lighting up everywhere they touch. 

“H-hey, I can’t, ah-...” He breaks free, and flashes the shy little smile again. He feels so good now, safer, because he’ll be good and he knows Cass meant it when he said he wouldn’t tell, he looks like someone who won’t tell anyone, and Kauri has to trust him. “I don’t… I’m technically homeless. So if you think I’m taking you home, uh… welcome to my house, I guess,” He says, gesturing at the alley around them and then laughing a little to himself.

He’s gotten himself this far, but there’s still a hint of the artificial conditioning twining all his conscious thoughts. I want this is real and true but it’s also what he knows how to say, and I’m safer if I want it, I matter if someone wants me and I want to matter to someone runs under honest desire as he moves to slip his hand up under Cass’s shirt. 

“H-how do you, how do you want to… um… this?”

Cass practically vibrates at Kauri's touch and he leans in even closer. Every touch is a relief. His body has been begging for this, for touch, all week

"Well I'd say we could go back to mine but…" Cass thinks of white walls, screaming fluorescents. His tiny quarters with the single bed and the sliding door that Tucker swans in and out of as he pleases. "Mine's not really much of a house either. So I guess we'll just get creative at yours"

He catches Kauri's lips again and pulls himself in closer until he's all but straddling the guy's lap. Kauri moves his body against Cass's like he was custom made for it. He lets his hand come to a gentle rest on the column of the guy's throat, his thumb tracing the line from his chin to his collar and back up again.

This is all Cass has wanted all week. To wrap himself in someone else's wants and just disappear for a bit. And yeah, maybe it feels a little off tonight. A little sickly. Like eating overripe fruit. But it's also been a long time since he's been this close to sober and trying to hook up with someone so who the fuck knows.

"Gotta say, I love what you've done to the place," he adds, breaking the kiss with a grin as he glances around at their elegant surroundings. Kauri laughs, almost a breathless giggle, glad he’s found someone with a real sense of humor even if it’s to keep him from telling anyone who he’s seen. Cass brings his lips to Kauris throat and let's his voice buzz electric along his jugular "I usually swoon for just one dumpster but three? You're such a romantic."

Kauri tips his head back against the wall behind him, staring up into the flat, featureless sky. As soon as Cass says the word Romantic, though, he goes perfectly still. Every muscle tense, for just a second it’s closer to holding a frightened animal than a person.

“Uh, th-thanks,” He manages, shakily, pushing the nerves back down. Just another way to call him a slut, like everyone else does, but he’ll do what he wants and be safer that way. It doesn’t matter if he calls Kauri a whore or a slut or a Romantic, it all means the same thing - people like him. People who can’t stop themselves, who don’t know better, who are nothing and no one unless somebody is touching them.

Cass is nice, and his hands and his mouth feel so good, and it doesn’t matter what he calls Kauri. What matters is giving him what he wants. 

He makes himself relax, consciously, and slides his hands around behind Cass, shifting his hips up, letting training take over again until the nervousness could die back down. I matter if someone wants me, it doesn’t matter why or how, I’m safe if I want this. 

“If you want, I could, um, could g-go down on you,” Kauri breathes, rolling his hips up.  

Cass feels himself grinning at the same moment as he feels his stomach clench in a knot so tight he can hardly breathe. Wanting and fear walk the same line. The latter is easy enough to ignore.

"Fuck yes," he all but moans, swinging his leg around to sit against the wall beside Kauri. Cass fumbles for the button of his jeans. He wants this. Kauri does too. Cass can feel how much he wants this. Kauri wants to feel safe. He wants Kauri to feel safe. And he also wants his brain to shut off and stop screaming discomfort just because the water’s a little muddy.

It doesn't matter if he wants it because it's gonna feel so good once it's happening he won't even care. And then he'll make Kauri feel so good, Kauri won't care either. He won't care about being wanted. He won't care about being safe because Cass will make him feel fucking fantastic. 

And all of that would’ve been fine if Cass didn’t look up and catch Kauri’s eyes.  He feels the knot in his stomach twist. In less than a second any spark of libido he had had rots and dies. There’s no want in Kauri's eyes. No nervous excitement. It’s not eagerness that’s pulling their bodies in close.

Desperation and terror were just one hell of a cocktail. Especially when finished off with resignation.

Cass closes his eyes and let's his head fall against the wall with a dull thunk.

“No,” he whispers. “No, hold on, stop.”

He really wishes he'd had some ket. Or at least a bit of molly. Just something to blunt the edges of whatever the fuck is happening right now. Something is wrong with him.

"I can't do this," he murmurs, shaking his head. He doesn't open his eyes. "Something's wrong, I can't do this. You don't… you don’t..."

Kauri’s hands are still tangled in Cass’s shirt at first, and he slowly pulls them back, worried, leaning forwards to try and tilt his head and look closer at Cass’s face. No no no no. He’s done something wrong. He doesn’t know what, or how - it had seemed right, like it was all happening the way it was supposed to and soon enough he’d forget to be scared and just feel good things until it was done, and if it was good enough Cass wouldn’t tell anybody about him in case maybe he saw him again. 

That’s how it works. Kauri gives, and he gets safety in return. But this isn’t safe.

You don’t even know if you actually want it or if you just think that because they made you. It’s what he thinks the end of that sentence probably is, because it’s what Dustin said when Kauri tried, and it’s what Jake said, and it’s what everyone tells him over and over again. That he can’t even know what he wants, because Owen wanted him brainless and a slut.

“I’m sorry, is it… something I’ve done?”

Cass scoffs a laugh, knocking the back of his head into the brick wall to try and shake his thoughts back straight. What the fuck is he meant to say? Sorry bro, my telepathy killed the mood.

“No,” he says, scrubbing a hand over his face “No you didn’t do anything, you just… you’re just-”

You’re just too fucking close to my kind of broken.

There’s a harsh sort of panic bouncing off of Kauri in waves at the rejection. What the fuck is Cass meant to do though? He can’t pretend like everything’s fine because it’s not. He can’t tell him to piss off because then he’d really be an asshole. He can’t fuck him because it’d be… that’d be...

Cass’ stomach lurches. He slams his hands down against the concrete with a growl, kicks at an empty bottle by his leg. It scrapes harsh against the ground in a loud, grating circle and Cass flinches his foot back like it cut him.

“Jesus Christ, this is fucked,” he says, laughter twisting his voice and making it bitter. He looks over at the person who pulled him out of a bar fight ten minutes ago. This random person who he'd started a bar fight for fifteen minutes ago. This random fucking person he shouldn't give two shits about. Cass shakes his head, "You don't wanna be here, man. Just go home."

Kauri snorts, almost bitterly. “I can’t, remember? I don’t fucking have one. Although I guess I could go sit on the bus…” He sighs, watching Cass - and he’s not always good at reading people’s intentions, but he can read emotions fairly well and he can see that Cass looks nearly sick, either angry or upset, and he just takes in a deep breath, putting his hands up over his face and then down again.

“No, I get it. It’s because I’m a pet, right? It’s, you wanted to see what it’s like with a pet. You saw me with that guy and knew, and you thought you’d try, too, and you can’t… don’t want to, once I’m really here.”

Cass is shaking his head before Kauri even finishes speaking. Who calls themself a fucking pet?

"What the fuck? No. Jesus Christ, no," he screws his face up, rakes his hand through his hair.

Cass can feel something volcanic starting to bubble up inside of him.

He had done everything right tonight. He hadn't had too much to drink. He'd helped some random guy in trouble just because it was the right thing to do. He'd taken Kauri’s lead and then he'd read the warning signs and he'd stopped. He’d fucking stopped. How was he still the bad guy?

"No fucking way are you putting that bullshit on me," he spits. "You're the one who pulled me out here. I was just trying to help. You don't know what you want, then don't fuck with people's heads!"

“Fuck with people’s-” Kauri’s own voice edges with real anger. “I didn’t fuck with anybody’s head! I just, this guy hit on me and bought me a drink, and you showed up and said it was drugged! I didn’t do anything wrong, people talk about wanting to try out pets all the time, I-”

He catches himself, cutting off his own voice all at once like turning off a radio. No no no, if you make him mad he’ll tell someone or he’ll get really really mad or…

Kauri looks away, down at the alleyway pavement, scraping at it lightly with one shoe. “... I’m sorry, I shouldn’t get angry. You were really trying to help, and, and that was really nice of you, to do that. I was just trying to, to pay you back, I guess? Besides, you’re… really fucking cute, so…”

It's the exact same trick he'd tried on the guy inside, Cass realises. Make nice with the wolf and hope that it'll be kind when it eats you alive. It's too familiar and too close and aimed at him and Cass wants to retch. It's burnt sugar disgusting. The desperate need to stay safe, to keep everything calm. No matter the cost. No matter what you give away. 

"See, that is exactly what I fucking mean. Two seconds ago you were so mad at me you were basically screaming and now you're apologising and telling me I'm cute just so I'll..."

Cass breaks off, shakes his head, staring up at the hazy not-black of city sky at night. He shoves away the twin claws of rage and confusion as he meets Kauri’s eyes again, tries to keep his voice even and something close to calm.

"Look, I'm not- I'm not gonna say anything, alright? Whatever your deal is, I'm not gonna tell the cops or whatever" Cass tries for a smile "Trust me, I'd be just as fucked."

“Would you really?” Kauri blinks at him, no sign of that earlier flash of anger left, either in his posture or in his expression. He’d done what he’s best at, when it comes to being mad - just pushed it down until he didn’t feel it any longer, and he could see things from the other person’s point of view. Like understanding that Owen was mad because he’d tried to talk to someone when he wasn’t allowed, and that Dustin was mad because Kauri wanted more than he was willing to give, and the way everyone was mad that he wouldn’t sit still.

“And thanks. I won’t tell you what the reward for ‘information regarding my whereabouts’ is, though, if it’s all the same to you.” He tries for a small, slightly sidelong smile, more sincere than his last attempt had been. “Are you a runaway, too? Is there a reward out for you?”

Cass only barely stops himself from balking at the remark. Kauri says it so casually, like having a price on your head is just an everyday annoyance they might be able to bond over. Just all in a day. “Uh… no. No, there isn’t. I would just…” I would just have my contract re-assessed. Risk having my indenture reset. End up permanently locked in the lab. Or back in Christopher’s den.  “My, uh, employer wouldn’t be very impressed if you get what I’m saying”

He adjusts his grip on his arm subconsciously, thumb running over the scar that sits along his inner arm. He’s always sort of wondered if one of Tucker’s little chips is there, just sitting by his radial bone, too close to the artery to risk cutting out himself. Guess he’ll never know.

He snaps his attention back to Kauri. Matches the guy’s smile with his own.

“But a reward, huh? Fuck man.” he says. A lofty one at that, apparently. Kauri Grant. Maybe that’s why the name was familiar. He would’ve seen it on the TV or something. Jesus, he’d had to help the one fuckin’ guy with a more tragic backstory than him. He laughs a little, like this is just some sort of watercooler gossip. Mondays, huh? “What did you do, kill your keeper?”

"My, um, my owner. And… no, I-I couldn't-" Kauri's eyes widen with real horror at the thought. "No, I would never have… um, he was, wasn't always that bad… I probably, I just-... I mean I did fuck up, but I didn't hurt anybody." 

He looks away from Cass, a little uncomfortably, and says, "He, uh. Got mad when I fucked up. He broke a promise, and I… left. I guess you'd see it eventually, since there's no way I wasn't gonna take my shirt off for you."

He pulls down on the stretched-out neckline of his shirt, and even in the dim alley, a bit of a large, twisted scar shows over his collarbone. 

"He paid a lot of money for, for me. I wasn't supposed to be able to leave. I took out the thing he put in to control me."

[ibelieveinharrystyles]

Chapter Eleven: The Encore

Forever? Masterlist

30th October 2017

Since the confrontation on Daisy’s birthday Harry had gradually become more distant, of course there was the inevitable truth that he was on tour, meaning he was busier, but that hadn’t been a problem when he toured with One Direction, he always seemed to maintain contact. Normally when Harry was away for periods of time, he would make the effort to facetime or call Ashley, even if it was for five minutes, just to make sure she was alright, but in the last couple of months their calls had depleted in number. First came the excuses, that he was jet lagged or had soundcheck, but then as the calls stopped, so did the excuses, Ashley didn’t really think anything of it, she knew Harry was busy and he wanted the tour to go well, you only get to make a first impression once, as her mum had always reminded her. Matt had gone off the radar since Harry told him to stay away, for some time Ashley was worried Matt would go to the press, but clearly he had worked out that Harry’s lawyers were not the sort of people you messed with. 

“I see Mr Styles is back in town for his tour tonight, you going?” Roman asked Ashley as they made their way out of the studio and towards the kitchen after another morning of the breakfast show.

“Yep, Hammersmith Apollo, when the boys did their last tour together I went to about a third of the shows, but that was way back when I was on a gap year, but now I’m a working mum, so it's just night two in London for me.” Ashlley explained.

“Is Daisy going?” Roman asked.

“No, she’s too little, I think it would overwhelm her a bit, one of my mum’s friends is at university in London, so she said she would babysit.”

“That’s good, you’ll be able to let your hair down that way.” Roman replied, “Anyway I’ll leave you to it, I imagine you’ve got all sorts to do today.”

“Cheers Ro.” 

Gemma had agreed to meet Ashley before the show for dinner, they agreed on an Italian just around the corner from the venue, “So have you spoken to my illusive brother much in the last couple of months?” Gemma asked as the waiter placed their sharing platter of dough balls on the table.

“Not much in the last few weeks, I guess that would be down to jet lag, he’s a busy man,” Ashley explained.

“Not to forget he’s loved up at the moment, did he mention that to you?” Gemma replied.

“I saw it on the internet, all those update accounts on Twitter were going mad, especially after Nick did that thing with the heart rate monitor.” Ashley informed her.

“So he never told you about Camille himself?” Gemma asked.

“No, I guess it never really came up in conversation, I mean there was that one time he said he couldn’t facetime Daisy because he was going out for dinner, and then the following morning there is pictures of them out together,”

“He gave up the opportunity to facetime Daisy? That doesn’t sound like Harry.” Gemma replied.

“He has seemed more distant since what happened on the heath on Daisy’s birthday,I just put it down to being busy with his tour.” Ashley explained.

“Being on tour has never stopped him staying in contact with you, I don’t get why now all of a sudden it's a problem.”

“I guess you’re right,” Ashley sighed, “I might ask him about it after the show.” 

Ashley stood at the sound desk with Gemma, Anne, Lou, Lux and Nick waiting for the show to start, the audience’s anticipation was immense, when he finally appeared on stage the screams were intense, having been to so many One Direction shows over the years Ashley had become immune to the ear ringing effect it once had on her. Harry appeared on stage in a sparkly yellow suit, beginning with Ever Since New York, followed by Two Ghosts and Carolina  before he went on to introduce himself to the crowd, “Hi I’m Harry, thank you for choosing to spend your night with us, we’re going to sing some songs for you tonight,” He chatted to the audience, “Please feel free to be whoever you want to be in this room tonight, this is Sweet Creature.” As he began to sing Ashley got the same funny butterfly feeling in her stomach that she got when Harry told her he wrote it for her, she didn’t really know why but hearing him sing it live meant so much more to her than it ever did when she played the studio version, she felt closer to the lyrics, understanding what each one meant. She figured that what Harry meant was that matter what happened, no matter where he ended up, she would always be the one he could call upon to bring him back to where he needed to be.

“You alright sweetheart?” Anne whispered, she had noticed the tears that stained Ashley’s cheeks, she wrapped an arm around her as Harry continued to sing.

After the show had finished one of Harry’s security team led the group backstage where Harry and his band were celebrating the end to another successful show, they were led down a few dimly lit corridors of the theatre to the green room where Harry and his team were sharing drinks and talking about the show. Ashley stood awkwardly beside Gemma, not really knowing what to do, it was the first time she had seen her best friend in almost three months, but it all felt so different, he was different. “Are you okay Ash?” Gemma whispered to her.

“Yeah, it all just feels different, he seems different.” Ashley replied.

“Look, he’s standing by himself, just go and talk to him.” Gemma encouraged her.

Ashley crept tentatively to where Harry was pouring himself a drink, “You guys were incredible up there.” Ashley told him, leaning against the wall beside him.

“Thank you.” Harry smiled.

“How’s the tour gone so far?” Ashley asked, trying to forge some sort of conversation, it had never been like this before, with Harry it was always easy and the conversation would just flow.

“It's been good,” he told her, their pathetic excuse of a conversation was interrupted by Harry’s phone ringing, he pulled it from his pocket for both of them to see Camille’s name flash up on the screen, “Sorry, I’ve got to take this.” Harry said before quickly leaving the lively atmosphere of the green room.

“You’re right, he isn’t the same,” Gemma said, taking a place beside Ashley promptly after Harry exited the room.

“He seems so distant Gem, and I have no clue why, through all the years of our friendship I’ve been able to read him, I could tell when things were wrong, but this time,” Ashley placed her head in her hand, “I have no clue Gem.”

“When he gets off the phone I’ll speak to him, I don’t think softly softly catchy monkey is going to work for much longer.” Gemma assured her, putting her arm around Ashley’s shoulder. 

“Alright love, I’ll speak to you soon, bye,” Harry ended the call to his girlfriend to see Gemma standing in the corridor just metres away from him, “You alright Gem? Enjoy the show?” 

“Enough of the small talk, what’s up with you tonight?” Gemma asked her brother, crossing her arms across her chest.

“Nothing, what are you on about Gem?” Harry asked.

“You and Ashley, if this were two years ago you would be following her around like a lost puppy, but you barely muttered three words to her in there.” Gemma told him.

“Yeah, that was two years ago, we’re different people now.” Harry replied.

“What does that mean? Gemma asked, clearly confused by what her brother meant.

“We aren’t the same people anymore, she has Daisy, I’ve got the tour, I guess we’ve drifted recently.” Harry explained.

“Just because you’ve drifted it doesn’t mean you can’t make your friendship work, it doesn't mean you can’t make the effort.” Gemma told him sternly.

“Maybe I’m tired of making the effort.” Harry replied flippantly, sighing heavily.

“Well at least I know where I stand.” Harry turned to see Ashley standing further down the corridor, she wavered before turning on her heel and running down the corridor to make her way out of the venue.

“Phenomenal Harry! Fucking Phenominal!” Gemma wasn’t usually one to swear, but in this instance it felt appropriate, “Aren’t you going to go after her?” She asked, Harry standing there awkwardly, “For Christ sake Harry go after her!”

“Ashley! Wait.” Harry called, power walking down the dark streets of Hammersmith.

“What for Harry? So you can remind me what a pathetic excuse of a life I lead?” Ashley shouted as she continued to march towards Hammersmith station, she was past caring about the press seeing their altercation.

“It isn’t like that Ash.” Harry muttered.

“What is it like Harry?” Ashley asked, stopping to look at Harry, “What bullshit explanation do you have that could justify you not wanting to put any effort into our friendship?” Harry was left speechless, if he was completely honest he didn’t even know, “You know what Harry, we’re done, this, our friendship it's done, I am not going to wait around for you to fight for something that clearly means nothing to you.”

“I’m sorry.”

“You’re sorry? I’m sorry that when my daughter asks for her Uncle Harry in the middle of the night that I will have to tell her you want nothing to do with us, you know how important it was to me that she had a positive male role model in her life,” Ashley told him bitterly, “You are not the same Harry that I adored twelve years ago.” She looked him in the eyes as he showed little emotion, “Goodbye Harry.” She turned to walk away, she didn’t want him to see her cry, she didn’t want him to think he had in any way won, the bitterness of her salty tears stung her eyes as she made her way into the station, the overwhelming bright lights of the walkway making the stinging even worse.

Ashley entered her flat earlier than she or Ellie, her mum’s friend’s daughter who was babysitting Daisy had anticipated, “You’re back early,” Ellie said as she found Ashley in the hallway, taking off her shoes and jacket, she noticed Ashley’s tear stained cheeks, “Ashley are you alright? You look like you’ve been crying.”

“I’m fine, how was Daisy?” Ashley asked, desperate to  change the topic of conversation.

“She’s been an absolute angel, I can stay for a bit if you want.” Ellie told her kindly.

“No, you go home, here’s the money, thank you for tonight.” She handed Ellie some cash as she left the flat, once Ellie had left Ashley broke down, she slumped against the wall, her head in her hands, she thought about Harry, he was a few mere miles away, but he may as well have been on the other side of the world. Ashley’s distress was interrupted by Daisy’s babbling, she was clearly wanting a night time feed, Ashley found Daisy stood up in her cot in their shared bedroom of their tiny flat, “Hello my angel,” she lifted Daisy out of the cot, snuggling her close to her chest, “Looks like its just me and you from now on my love.”

and there we go the final part of ‘forever?’ I’m working on some other writing projects at the moment but something tells me this won’t be the last we see of Ashley, Daisy and Harry...

[maroon-vs-indigo]

My attempt at the RvB Fill in the Blanks Challenge day 1- Missing time

He wasn't sure how long he'd been here. Days? Months? Years? Time was meaningless in here. He couldn't see. He could move, but as far as he could tell he never went anywhere. An endless, black abyss in every direction. He couldn't even see his hands, and developed a habit of chewing on them through the gloves to make sure they were still there. Sometimes he would bite too hard and the salty taste of blood would fill his mouth. He whimpered at the pain, but was glad to know his sense of taste was still there.

Talking was weird, even with his helmet off, it sounded like he was wearing headphones. He tried to keep himself calm by talking to himself, drown out the silence, but he quickly realized that with no water available he would need to keep every once of moisture he had.

He was so tired. Sleep was surprisingly difficult here. Every time he laid down and closed his eyes he felt like he was falling. Most of the time when he did manage to get to sleep it was nightmares. Nightmares about the Reds and Blues never finding him, deciding they didn't need him anymore. Or about when O'Malley had been ripped out of his head, leaving him feeling hollow and empty. The silence then was about as unbearable as it was now.

It was horrible here. He hated it. He wanted to scream and cry and at first he did for any semblance of hope of being rescued, but no one had found him.

He was beginning to think he might never make it out of here.

But he couldn't think like that! His friends were looking for him! One day they would come for him and rescue him! It must have just taken a long time for them to figure out how to get him free. They would come for him, he just had to be patient.

But patience only lasted so long in a place like this. The darkness had started to seep into his mind, he couldn't stay optimistic anymore. He would be lost in this cruel dimension for the rest of time and no one would ever find him. No one was coming for him. He would be alone forever.

Eventually bitterness and resentment had begun to set in, anger. And with that a familiar voice trickled into his mind once more. A voice he never thought he'd hear again.

It started slowly, the tiniest fragments of O'Malley whispering at the edge of his mind. He thought he was going mad.

He probably was.

Eventually the voice became louder, stronger, and Doc came to welcome it. It was the only thing that grounded him, something other than the void around him. Something to make him feel real again.

With O'Malley he finally had hope again. Someone to talk to, argue with, come up with plans for when they got out. O'Malley never lost hope, he was sure that they would get out one day, and Doc believed him.

While he and O'Malley never exactly saw eye to eye on anything, he was just glad to have someone to talk to. He didn't mind when he took over, when he plotted to rule over the universe. He would even tolerate O'Malley's more violent fantasies, which Doc never really thought he'd go through with anyway.

Because without O'Malley Doc would have lost his mind, he would never get out. And without Doc O'Malley wouldn't exist. They coexisted. They kept each other sane. They kept each other safe.

They would survive, they would get out with or without the Reds and Blues. They would make it back to the real world together.

They just knew it.

[musette22]

i'll forever be bitter about cacw. especially about all the stucky scenes that were cut, shortened. chris evans said this in a interview during the cacw press. they filmed more than what we saw in the final cut. i hate that they didn't included them as deleted scenes. even the mcu tie-in comics have more stucky dialogues than the movies.

Yup, I feel you, nonnie. It’s such a huuuuge fucking waste and it makes me mad every time I think about it. Here you have these two actors that were perfectly cast and have amazing chemistry, and these two characters that have such an incredible backstory that has the potential to be made into a rich, engaging, potentially even groundbreaking narrative, and then, simply because you’re afraid of people thinking these two characters might be in love (BUT - BUT, THEY’RE TWO MEN! THE HORROR) you just decide to drastically cut down the existing footage as well as future scenes/dialogues, and reduce this beautiful (love) story to nothing more than two bros occasionally hitting the battlefield together, fighting 100 ft apart cuz they’re not gay. And that’s not even taking into account that ending. IT'S SO DUMB. Anyway, forever salty, as it sounds like you are too💛

[starfast]

Cross the Kingdom- Chapter 10

“Morbane”

Word Count: 3826

Read on Wattpad: Link

More about this project: Intro Post | Other Info

 Crispin had never actually been on a train before, and at the rate things were going he hoped he would never have to go on one again. Going into it, he thought he wouldn’t be so bad. He had spent weeks at a time travelling on the Mad Maiden, so surely he could manage spending a few days on a train. Now, after having travelled all through the night and through most of the day, Crispin was eager to get off the train again. They had stopped briefly in Westcliff the day before, which had been a six hour trip from Coral Bay. Frank had used the time to get caught up on some sleep, while Crispin had taken some time to walk around the city at Frank’s request. 

 “The trip to Morbane is going to be a long one,” Frank had said as they arrived in Westcliff, “Might as well get some fresh air and stretch our legs out while you have the chance.” 

 That had been nearly five hours ago. Five long hours of being cooped up in the locomotive which barely seemed big enough for just the two of them, which seemed to become smaller and smaller with each passing minute. Five hours and still had several more to go. 

 It must have been close to midnight when Frank told Crispin to get some rest. There were two bunk beds towards the back of the locomotive, and Frank had told him he could have whichever one he wanted since he needed to stay awake through the night. Crispin had originally taken the bottom, but as he lay on the bed surrounded by walls on three sides he began to feel trapped. He tried to sleep, but he couldn’t get past the feeling that the walls were closing in on him. He had no idea how much time had passed before he finally decided to see if he would be any better off on the top bunk, but that hadn’t gone over any better. Even though he had enough room to sit upright, when he lay on his back he felt like the ceiling was only inches away from his nose. He managed to fall asleep eventually, but he woke up several times during the night. Sometimes he was awoken by the ear-shattering train whistle. Other times he woke himself up after accidentally rolling onto his injured wing. But most times he was woken by a squeezing sensation in his chest, drenched in a cold sweat. 

 When he joined Frank at the front of the locomotive again, he could see the brilliant orange sunrise shining through the window. Rays of sun peeked through rows of trees, casting golden light across open fields. 

 “Morning,” Frank greeted him, not taking his eyes off the railway track that seemed to go on forever. 

 “G’Morning,” Crispin mumbled, rubbing his eyes sleepily. 

 “Sleep ok?” Frank asked. 

 “Yeah,” Crispin said. It was a lie though, and not even a good one at that. Frank hadn’t even looked at him yet, but he still saw right through him.

 “Most people find the train a little loud at first,” he said, “Makes it hard to get any rest. You’ll get used to it though, don’t worry.” 

 “Right,” Crispin said. He didn’t let Frank in on the real reason he had not slept well. He could only hope that just like the noises made by the train, he would get used to the claustrophobic interior of the locomotive. 

 When they arrived in Morbane early in the morning, Crispin tried to hide his relief. He stepped out of the train and onto the tiled floors of the platform. He followed Frank out into the crowded train station, finally free of the confined space that he had been stuck inside for the past thirteen hours. 

 Crispin had only been to Morbane a few times. His father tended to avoid it since the King had a larger presence in Morbane than he did in Coral Bay. Captain Hadley never feared the King, or any authority for that matter but he still wanted to avoid getting thrown into prison, so it had been a while since Crispin’s last visit. He didn’t remember much about the city, only that it was far nicer than Coral Bay. Where Coral Bay was run down, dirty and filled to the brim with unsavory characters, Morbane was the exact opposite: Clean, tidy and generally safe. 

 Even the train station was reflective of the city’s pristine reputation. Brick arches held up the domed ceiling which was lined with windows that let in rays of sunlight that reflected off of the tiled floors which were practically spotless. Crispin had thought that the station in Coral Bay had been pretty impressive, much bigger than he had anticipated. The Morbane station put it to shame, just like everything else in the city. 

 Crispin followed Frank out of the station and onto the streets of Morbane. He drew in a breath,  tasting the salty sea air that was so familiar to him. He was surprised to see how close the station was to the ocean; the one in Coral Bay had been much farther in land. It made sense though when Crispin spotted several horse drawn carts packed full with crates and barrels moving back and forth between the station and the docks. 

 Frank decided that the first thing they should do is get something to eat. Crispin hadn’t been feeling particularly hungry, but he obliged nonetheless. The pair made their way to a small cafe that was only a short walk from the station. They found themselves a table on the cafe’s sunlit patio.  A server came by, offering them both some tea.

 “We’ll both have some,” Frank replied, “Thank you.” When the server left he said to Crispin, “Sorry, I just figured that you could use something to help wake you up a little more. You still seem a little tired.” 

 Crispin nodded in agreement. He had never really liked tea that much, but he welcomed the idea of being at least a little more alert. He was so tired that he felt like he could fall asleep standing up. When the server came back out and placed the  two mugs of steaming hot tea on their table Crispin didn’t even wait for it to cool down. He took a small sip, burning his tongue on the bitter drink. 

 The two of them made idle small talk as they waited for the tea to cool down some more. Crispin found that there was little for them to talk about, since Frank had made it very clear that they were not to talk about New Vellarton in public.

 “If the wrong person overhears us then the town stops serving its purpose as a safe haven,” Frank had told him. So they mostly talked about New Vellarton in the privacy of the locomotive, and made awkward small talk in public. 

 Their conversation had seemingly hit a dead end. Not really in the mood to force out a conversation, Crispin stared out at the streets, watching people pass by him as they went about their day to day activities. As he watched the people go by, he couldn’t help but feel a little bit out of place in his plain red coat. The men that he saw wore fancy tailored suits, and the women wore dresses that trailed along the ground but somehow never got dirty. Morbane was a city that catered to the upper class, and Crispin was out of his element. He was used to the rough streets of Coral Bay where fights seemed to break out on every corner. Not that didn’t mind the peacefulness of Morbane, but it was a stark contrast from his hometown. 

 Crispin noticed a pair of men walking by dressed in navy blue coats with two rows of golden buttons. A silk white sash crossed over each of their chests and swords hung in sheaths from the men’s belts. It was the patch that they wore on their sleeves that caught Crispin’s attention-- an eagle with its wings outstretched and a crown on its head. He recognized it instantly as the royal coat of arms. It was a fairly scarce sight in Coral Bay, but he recognized it nonetheless.

 “...Not our problem if something happened to him in transit,” one of the guards said, “Our instructions were clear. Just bring the Prince to Lord Roland. We can’t do anything about it if he never showed up to begin with.”

 “True,” The other guard said. He let out a sigh then added, “although I reckon that King Matthew may fire us anyways.”

 “I highly doubt that,” The first guard scoffed, “There’s still a chance that he might show up still. If not, anything that happened to him outside of Morbane is beyond our control, and effectively not our problem. Don’t waste your time worrying over it…”  The two guards walked away, out of earshot. 

 “Interesting,” Frank murmured as the guards walked out of sight. 

 “What is?” 

 “What those two guards were saying,” Frank said, “There’s been a lot of rumours going around about whatever the hell is going on in the castle. One that’s come up recently was that there was an attempt on the prince’s life recently. The King is either trying to downplay it or outright deny it happened, depending on who you ask.” 

 “Curious then that the Prince has seemingly vanished according to those guards then,” Crispin said. 

 “Exactly,” Frank replied in a low voice. 

“I sent an informant into the castle before I came to pick you up,” Frank said, rubbing his bearded chin thoughtfully, “Things seem to have been pretty dicey in the castle for a while.” 

 “Really?” Crispin asked, leaning forward slightly so that he was literally on the edge of his seat. 

 Frank nodded. “It’s hard to say for sure what really goes on in there,” he said, “Hence sending in Audrey. One thing that we do know for sure though is that the King is at odds with his brother, though I’m sure you know that already.”

 This was news to Crispin, but he didn’t quite want to admit it. He’d always had better things to do than worry about whatever the royal family was up to. It wasn’t like they seemed to care all that much about what went on in Coral Bay. Or anywhere else outside of Galtia for that matter. It had been years since King Matthew had left the capital. Even the Winter Palace, which Crispin could see from where he sat, perched on a cliff that overlooked the city of Morbane, had been vacant for as long as Crispin could remember. 

 “Right,” Crispin said, but he had spoken a moment too late, and Frank had seen right through him. 

 “Prince Alexander has been jealous of the King,” Frank explained. 

 “Why?” Crispin asked, “He just wants to be king?” 

 “Pretty much,” Frank said.

 “Why doesn’t he just kill him then?” 

 “Shush!” Frank hissed, “Not so loud!” He looked around then leaned in close. “The King still has men here. Don’t give them a reason to come after you.” 

 Crispin glanced around at the people who walked through the streets. Even the children were well dressed, and any one of them could have easily had ties to the royal family. “It’s not like I’d ever do it,” he mumbled.

 “Well, I’m glad to hear that at least,” Frank replied, “King Matthew is on our side.” He lowered his voice to almost a whisper and said, “He’s already trying to crack down on the Patrol and--”

 “I hear that’s going really well for him,” Crispin in an equally quiet voice. 

 “Laugh about it all you want,” Frank huffed, “But he is ruling in our favour, and that’s more than we can say about his brother.” He sat back in his seat and added, “Perhaps we should discuss this later.” 

As much as he wanted to, Crispin knew better than to press him. He continued sipping at his tea, which had finally cooled down to a bearable temperature. 

 After they ate a quick breakfast, they left the cafe to start on some errands. Frank had cautioned him to stay close to him at all times. Crispin had scowled at the request. He had spent the first thirteen years of his life growing up on the streets of Coral Bay, and the last three living on a pirate ship. Morbane was a walk in the park compared to both his hometown and his father’s ship. Nothing was going to happen. Even if something did, Crispin had fought his way out of many perilous situations. Despite his injured state, he was confident that he could do it again. 

 He followed Frank in and out of many different shops, as the conductor went about buying some things that were needed back in New Vellarton. Mostly, it was clothing to help prepare the citizens for the long upcoming winter. Frank had come prepared with a list of measurements of all the citizens so that he could properly pick them out. He went into several shops pretending to buy for his family.  “Do you have any winter boots in a size ten?” He would ask the shopkeepers, “I’m looking to buy a pair for my son.” At this point, the shopkeepers would usually give Crispin a skeptical once over at which point, Frank would clarify, “Not him.” 

 As they continued shopping for supplies, Frank stopped and peered into the window of a shoe store. Rows of black boots were on display in the window. They were so shiny that Crispin could practically see his reflection in them. 

 “We should get you a pair,” Frank said. 

 Crispin looked down at his pair of brown leather boots. He’d had them for such a long time that he could not remember a time where the boots weren’t dirty and scuffed. There was even a hole at the toe of his right boot, but it was so small and insignificant that he had never bothered to try and get it fixed. Despite how worn they were, Crispin still believed that they served their purpose. 

 “Your feet will freeze right off in those,” Frank said, before Crispin could object, “Come on. Let’s get you a new pair.” 

 Frank walked into the store, and Crispin followed close behind him. A tiny bell rang as the door opened. Right away, Crispin was hit with the rich scent of leather that filled the tiny shop. He walked along the rows of shoes, which seemed to come in just about every shape and size. From elegant high heeled women's boots to sturdy work boots, the cozy shop seemed to have just about every kind of footwear that Crispin could imagine. 

 “Can I help you two find anything?” The shopkeeper asked from behind the counter. 

 “I’m looking to buy a new pair of boots for my apprentice,” Frank said, “He’s a size…” he turned to Crispin. 

 “Six,” Crispin finished for him. 

 “Yeah, we’ve got a few that should fit,” The shopkeeper replied, “Anything particular in mind?” 

 “He’ll be working on a cargo train,” Frank explained, “We’ll be going all throughout Toltova, so he’ll be needing something that’ll keep his feet warm in the northern and interior areas.” 

 The shopkeeper nodded. “I think I have a pair that may work.” He came out from behind the counter and disappeared down one of the aisles. He came back carrying a box with the words “Burbant & Elvard Shoe Co” stamped onto it in black ink. He opened up the box revealing a pair of shiny black boots lined with white fur. 

 “Try these on,” The shopkeeper said, handing the box to Crispin, “They might be a little snug, but the fur should get pressed down the more you wear them. The leather will stretch out over time as well.” 

 Crispin sat down on a stool and pulled off one of his boots, and set it down next to him.

 “I think we might need to get you some new socks as well,” Frank remarked as he looked down at the sock on Crispin’s foot. It had been white at one point in his life, although now it was more of a grimy beige. 

 Crispin took the new boot out of the box, and pulled it onto his foot. He struggled to get it around his ankle, but after a bit of pulling he was able to force it onto his foot. The boot felt  a  little tight around the bridge of his foot, but not so much that it was uncomfortable. In fact, this boot was far more comfortable than his older pair. Feeling satisfied with how they fit, he let Frank pay for them before they headed back out to the streets of Morbane.

 They set back down the cobbled streets, which were lined with tall pale buildings that seemed to sparkle in the morning sunlight. Crispin walked down the street, staring up at the beautiful buildings. There were so many little details that went into each one that it was hard to not look at them just to take it all in. One building was lined with elaborate cornices. Another was decorated with tall columns that supported a triangular roof  that stood above a large set of wooden doors. Some had tall elegant spires that reached up to the sky, while others had large domed roofs. 

 Crispin had been so distracted by his surroundings that he didn’t even notice that Frank had stopped to buy a newspaper from a young girl standing at an intersection. 

 “You going somewhere, Crispin?” Frank had called out to him after he began to wander a little too far away. 

 Crispin had turned back to see Frank handing the little girl a couple of coins in exchange for the newspaper. He stood in place as Frank walked to catch up with him. 

 “I just thought this might be interesting,” Frank said handing the paper towards Crispin, “We don’t have to look at it now, but just made me think of the conversation we were having earlier.” 

 Crispin looked down at the paper. In bold black letters, the headline on the front page read ‘KING MATTHEW REFUSING TO SPEAK OUT ABOUT CASTLE RUMOURS.’ 

Crispin paused, leaning up against a tall white column. This was probably not the best time to be reading the paper, he realized as people moved around both him and Frank. He skimmed over the article which read:

 Citizens of Galtia are growing increasingly frustrated with his Royal Majesty, King Matthew, who is keeping the public in the dark in regards to some rumours that have begun to circulate within the past few days. While nothing has been confirmed as of yet, it has been speculated that an attack took place at some point on the eve of the 28th of Tenth, when King Matthew hosted a party within the castle walls to celebrate his forty-second birthday. 

Exactly what happened that evening remains unclear, however many attendees were able to agree that some sort of disturbance occurred which prompted both King Matthew and Queen Angelica to end the event several hours earlier than originally scheduled. Many have speculated that there was an attack on Prince Christopher, who has not been seen since the evening of the party. According to the Royal Family’s official spokesperson, the Prince is in an undisclosed location but is believed to be safe and unharmed. 

The spokesperson also mentioned that both the King and Queen are both refusing to comment on the matter for the time being. Many remain hopeful that they will be able to shed light on the situation, though many others are dubious and are left to speculate. 

 Crispin handed the paper back to Frank. He hadn’t finished reading the article, but he got the gist of it. He decided he would read the rest of it on the train, which he hoped would be enough to keep him distracted from how claustrophobic he had felt inside the locomotive. Part of him hoped that he would get used to it, like Frank had said, but he very much doubted it. He had always preferred open spaces. When he’d been on his father’s ship, he’d always had the entire deck at his disposal when he felt like he needed some space. He did not have that same luxury on the train. Although, if there ever was a time to like small and closed in spaces, it would be now. 

 Crispin was forced to abandon his thoughts on the train when Frank grabbed at his arm and pulled him down a street. 

 “Sorry,” He said quickly, “I completely forgot there was something else I needed to pick up.” 

 “What the hell?” Crispin hissed. 

 “I’ll explain later,” Frank said between gritted teeth. 

 Crispin didn’t ask any further questions as Frank led him down a series of streets. He followed Frank who suddenly seemed to be in a great hurry. Frank had since let go of Crispin’s wrist, but was walking at an unnecessarily swift pace. They wove in and out of crowds, trying not to bump into anyone as they went along. 

 Crispin was left puzzled when he spotted the elegant facade of the train station in the distance. He had known right away that something was amiss when Frank had grabbed his arm, but their detour left Crispin with more questions than answers. Not that Crispin had minded getting to see more of the city, but they would have reached the station about five minutes sooner if they had gone back the way they had come. 

 Even when they were inside the station, Frank still walked at his faster than normal pace. It was only once they were inside the train that Frank seemed to relax. He let out a sigh of relief, and sat down in his conductor’s chair. 

 “So what happened back there?” Crispin asked as he began to shovel coal into the firebox. 

 Frank glanced around the station before he said in a low voice, “Patrol guards.”

 Crispin raised his eyebrows. Even though Ambrose had confirmed the existence of the Patrol, they didn’t seem like much of a threat to Crispin. He had never really seen any concrete evidence that they were still operating, aside from Ambrose’s letters from his daughter. To Crispin, the Patrol still felt like nothing more than a rumour. He had grown complacent; the Patrol would not hurt him. That kind of thing only happened to other people. 

 “Did they recognize you?” Crispin asked. 

 “I don’t think so,” Frank said, “But I recognized them. It’s better that we just keep our distance from them.” He sounded the loud train whistle, and the train began moving slowly down the tracks away from the majestic city. And away from the Patrol, the subtle danger that lurked in an otherwise perfect city. 

 ---

<<Previous Chapter

Next Chapter (Coming January  22 2020)

Tag list: No one yet, but please let me know if you’d like to be added.

[flintsjohn]

hi it’s not even 8am and i’ve just finished watching so here’s thoughts on roswell for the finale! please do come yell at me, we can survive the hiatus together. spoilers ahead.

let’s start with the easy things! i knew noah was gonna die but i’m still kinda :///// at the whole “let’s make the moc evil and kill him” thing. im bitter. they made him awful and im bitter.

a-HA! listen i don’t like max. i still don’t. i didn’t through the whole ep. AND I LITERALLY. KNEW THEY WERE GONNA DO THAT. from the moment i read carina’s interview being like “they asked a million times if we were sure” i was like HMMM ARE THEY GONNA and they DID. that was ballsy, i give em that. im also probably like the only person who actually rejoiced in seeing him dead but hey, yall know they’re gonna at least try to bring him back so (theory is that either michael or isobel will unlock the healing power and bring him back)

ho ho ho they’re gonna unlock more powers!!! that last isobel scene was sexsie. also apparently max is thor? also evil aliens are coming? some time?

liz.....my girl........im love u..........so much. she’s??? such a badass?????? also the scene with maria was the cutest thing can we get more bestie moments please

kyle!! I LOVE KYLE!! i love love love the fact that he is moving towards a darker place but they still kept him good at his core. AND MANES HAD IT COMING but im glad kyle didn’t kill bc you know... he’d have had to live with that.

michael........my boy...............my baby baby boy..........................CAN HE STOP CRYING? CAN HE? CAN WE STOP DOING THAT? im a little. meh. about the hand healing thing bc they......literally just cancelled his disability which. hm. but the guitar.......my boy........peaceful........cry

all that being said. he’s still an asshole for standing alex up like that. im love :( alex :( im sad. im so proud of alex for the journey he’s been through, like how hard must that have been for him? UGH i love him and im salty that we didn’t get more of him in the finale :(

BUT ANYWAY. that scene in the trailer i am CRY binch. 

ok and last thing. listen. i’m upset about how they pulled the michael/maria thing in this ep, but i’m not mad they did it. i’m upset that after michael and alex literally being this close to kissing and michael promising they would talk he just went ¯\_(ツ)_/¯ and went to maria. BUT. this being only the ending of season one, i’m not upset they went with m/m. they literally have been telling us for multiple eps that maria is uhhh the easy way out, for lack of better words. she’s something new and fresh and doesn’t come with all the trauma that michael has SAID is inherent to his relationship with alex. we know it is. we know how hard it is for both of them. my hope was genuinely that they wouldn’t put michael in a relationship at all by the end of the season, bc i honestly don’t think it’s what he needs right now, but i understand the choice of being like “this is new. it might be good. let’s see where it leads us.” AT THE SAME TIME i think they’ll HAVE to talk. i mean all of them. literally, all three of them, sit the fuck down and talk it out. i hope we’ll get that in s2, or even just.... you know, clear the air in pairs or sth, without the petty remarks, because otherwise it’ll probably just get messier and messier, which is really the only thing im afraid of when it comes to the three of them :/ but anyway! i look forward to malex’s journey in s2 as friends. LET THE SLOWBURN BEGIN YALL

while we’re on the subject, the first scene we get of m/m in s2 better be michael explaining everything bc i am DONE with maria not knowing!!!!! also wtf is the necklace thing about!!!! i wanna know!!!!!!!

ok last last thing. PLEASE. i beg all of you (i mean i have the right mutuals, but you never know who needs to hear this). don’t go screaming for queerbaiting in the wake of this. a) this is the end of s1 (and half a season, if we’re honest), not an endgame. there’s time. give them time. b) it will NEVER be queerbaiting in ANY CASE. i’ve said this before and i’ll say it again a million times but michael and alex are BOTH STILL QUEER. THEY ARE. IT’S CANON. their relationship is CANON and it always will be, even if michael stays with maria forever. people change and move on, even if they still love each other! it doesn’t take away the fact that they’ve been together, and it doesn’t change any of their sexualities, so please don’t be assholes (and ESPECIALLY don’t harass carina/the writers/the actors please).

come share s2 theories with me!!! because we ARE getting a s2, or i’ll riot after the finale ending like this ¯\_(ツ)_/¯

[whatkindanameisfergus]

Things I hate about Crowley's death aka the whole shitshow calling itself S12 finale

(little update because my tired ass worded that not in the way I actually wanted it to say last time) While I do understand the not wanting to be the king of hell part, especially considering all character development that has been going on for seasons, I think the fact that he just sarcrificed himself like that was more uncharacteristic in my personal opinion. Sealing the gates of hell and stopping by occasionally could have been more likely. I just really don't like the way they treated the character for the whole season too.

(The rat thing didn't make any sense at all, you can't tell me nobody saw that huge cloud of red smoke going into a rat. Yeah Lucifer looked the other way but other demons were around right?)

Not a SINGLE time the winchester bros try to keep him from doing it because apparently it's only their family and Cas who matter.

They barely care.

His death is completely overshadowed by Cas dying even though everybody knows Cas wouldn't stay dead anyway.

THEY CUT THE GOOD SCENE AND THEREFORE MADE MARK LEAVE FOREVER which robbs us of every chance to get him back. Ever. And while they can recast him because demons have different vessels (I wouldn't mind a good recast), they probably won't because the fandom would be so mad.

Season 13 is one huge extravaganza of bringing back characters from the dead and here I am doomed to stay salty about his death forever.

That was the worst way to go, he would have deserved so so so much more but all they gave him was this lame ending.

Crowley used to give the show one loveable anti-hero. Now we got nothing.

NO MORE BAD HELL PUNS.

"Even when I lose, I win" beats "Bye, boys" and nobody can tell me otherwise.

The fact that he's dead in general pisses me off like? You can't kill the Winchester bros or Cas anymore because nobody would fall for it so let's just kill off every other fan favorite instead?

From what Mark has said about it, the whole thing even leading up to them cutting everything out, was one big shit show.

I'm so bitter about this guys you don't understand I used to wait for Crowley scenes but now all I got is nothing.

I could live with his death, I lived with Bobby's death, if they just had done it better? Not coming back from the dead would make him more special BUT the way they killed him just wasn't good and I personally do not like it.

Can we just take a look at the mess that is the Multiverse and find a universe where everything is the same but Crowley didn't die? Or can we just break into the Empty and annoy that entity enough to get him out? Can we all pull a Gabriel and denial him back into existence.

[landofsomethingsomething]

your askbox seems crowded with johnroxycallie asks today. welllll sorry im going to add another one to the pile! i am intrigued! i used to ship johnroxy because it seemed real & cute but i moved to roxycallie when it was canon. but this is interesting?? sooo im interested but not sold. give me your best sales pitch for this new ot3 and adopt me into that good good 4 person fold?

Okay here’s why I like it.

To start you have to understand my salty relationship with Roxy’s bisexuality. I basically wrote my own god damn narrative for it in my own head because I am just so over homestuck’s completely unwillingness to give women arcs relating to their sexuality. Womens’ queerness is always something treated by the narrative as obvious and unworthy of commentary or exploration or any element of revelation/self-discovery or even an iota of reflection or struggle, which is especially FRUSTRATING when they’ve been shown struggling with the queerness of OTHERS. It’s that last part that gets me w Roxy -- I especially hate this with Roxy specifically because her relationship with Dirk was so very fucking fraught with her being bitter at him for being gay and thus unwilling to be with her. Roxy was aggressive about her attraction to Jake and Dirk and I would have really liked to see SOMETHING about like. The narrative there after she meets Callie, especially when Callie expressly tells Roxy that her species can’t experience human romance and blah blah blah blah there are so many things I would have loved to know more about re Roxy and her sexuality but this post is already going to be long so enough said about how mad I am about this specifically

The way I’ve settled on it for my own peace of mind is that Roxy went after Dirk and Jake most aggressively because she had the “save the human species” thing held up as the banner of like, the most important thing she could do to the exclusion of most else. Couple that with her being upset at Dirk for being gay and you get a workable explanation for her suppressing her own bisexuality and being so exuberantly performatively straight. 

So. Callie is the only person outside the other alpha kids that Roxy has had this lifelong close relationship/bond with. They have a conversation where they basically gal pal each other aggressively, with Callie saying her species can’t do redrom/human romance and Roxy being cagey about whether she’d reciprocate because Callie is basically telling her there’s no point to the thought exercise and who likes rejection?? but Roxy is the one who brings it up and is clearly fishing to see if Callie likes her likes her and blah blah blah people have been shipping RoxyCallie long before credits video because of all this, the ring, etc. The closeness of their relationship and the mutual “if only this could work it could be so good” narrative there like all right. 

Then, John. There’s an element to Roxy’s attraction to John that’s rooted in that instinctive thing she has going on that you can see on display in their first meeting, where she sees A Dude and immediately does her mental calculus to determine hey here is A Dude, he’s kind of cute, he’s maybe not gay and/or off-limits b/c my best friend has a huge messy crush on him. And it would be real easy to weigh the scales here and go full RoxyCallie if that were the sum and parts of their relationship, but like, here’s the thing -- it’s not. 

I just cannot let go of John and Roxy as the sole survivors of the Game Over timeline. Roxy is Callie’s beacon of optimistic hope, Roxy is the one who acts to save Callie and preserve her in the alpha timeline (with John’s help -- John gives Roxy the ring after all. I like that detail in the full scope of them being a Unit in the future.) But JOHN plays that role for Roxy. Roxy watches Rose die and is ready to sit down and throw in the towel. She tells John straight up that her only plan going forward after this is to accept her fate and bury her mom and wait for her miserable doomed timeline to end and take her with it. John is the one who convinces her there might be a better way, there might be hope. JOHN is the one who acts to preserve Roxy’s existence in the alpha timeline. I really love the parallel between Roxy bringing Callie back from the brink of oblivion and John bringing Roxy back from the same via the same mechanism that allows John to get the ring that allows Roxy to bring Callie back in the first place. That is a really tidy loop and I like it a lot.

So, Roxy in Earth C with a boy she likes and has a connection with that literally no one else can understand because no one else went through Game Over, no one else has this dissonant experiences that might not mesh 100% with the people they love, no one else has this potential imposter syndrome. I love the idea of Roxy and John bonding over that and have never really been willing to give it up. I love the idea of Roxy coming to understand that her infatuation with the idea of A Boy, Any Boy and the future she wanted so bad were products of trauma and really examining that and then realizing she fell for John legitimately, that she genuinely finds him charming

Simultaneously, Roxy in Earth C with the alien girl she’s had a crush on for like probably forever, and now she’s free of the burden she always assumed she had to repopulate the human race. Also her entire family is queer and she’s free to explore her own feelings with that context. Maybe to accept that her feelings for Jane were never purely platonic (and her feelings for Callie certainly never were) and half her frustration at Dirk was that he insisted on being “true” to himself while Roxy never felt she could be and imposed straightness on herself out of obligation to the human race. That could make a girl bitter, right? (I have so many god damn feelings about Roxy and Dirk reconciling post-canon)

And here’s Callie with her insistence that cherubs can’t experience redrom, too. Except now she’s living on Earth C with, for example, Karkat, a troll who absolutely experiences romantic feelings the same way humans do despite all his species lore stating Trolls Can’t Feel Like That. And now Callie has eternity to explore HER feelings -- and we know part of why Callie just accepted that she couldn’t experience flushed/human romance is because she didn’t think anyone would ever love her like that anyway, right? She thought she was hideous and unloveable. Well now she’s here on Earth C and there’s no way Roxy is going to go on letting her believe that. And without that holding her back from exploring the way she REALLY feels, you can see a path to Callie allowing herself to experience emotions she never thought she could. 

And all of these are positive things and wonderful things for these people to learn about themselves and about each other. 

Roxy caught between the boy she fell for on her journey and the girl she fell for long before her journey even started, just having this realization like, everyone is doing what they want here, this is our universe and our earth and our society and our rules, and she’s kind of unofficially dating them both for awhile but not committing labels-wise to either until eventually she’s just like fuck it??? Here’s how I feel, now how about you??? And I cannot imagine Callie protesting Roxy loving them both or someone else loving Roxy as much as she does, and John’s relationship with romance throughout Homestuck is so bemused and ???? and exploratory, I imagine he’s like well this is kinda weird is this like a troll thing and Roxy is like no this is just an us thing and they deal with it

John and Callie have already been spending tons of time with each other throughout and again, as I referenced in an earlier post, there’s some initial awkwardness that settles out into a balanced arrangement and Callie and John both love Roxy and care about each other very much.

Also like, until there actually is some kind of epilogue that does more with John’s current depression arc and ties in the Masterpiece with everything, I like this alternate reality where John has someone who understands him in a way really no one else can there for him when his shit starts to go south, I like the idea of there being an entire long ass subplot where John tries to isolate himself and Roxy is instrumental in not allowing that to happen, I like Callie’s cheer in the face of her own blisteringly unforgiving history and reality being an inspiration for John, I like a lot of things that canon as it stands doesn’t have a satisfying character-driven arc for at the moment.

And, you know, to cap all this off, I really just like JohnRoxyCallie as an acknowledgement that bisexual woman are not “less” for liking boys, that bisexual woman don’t “count” unless they are exclusively with women, and that bisexual people in real life who ship bisexual characters with people of opposite/other genders are not somehow betraying the queer community by doing so, while simultaneously not sacrificing a potential f/f romance for a m/f one.

The LGBT community’s relationship with bisexual women is MY pet issue, because obviously I’m a bi woman, and there’s obviously an element of that going on as well. It bothers me with the treatment of a lot of fandom/homestuck’s bisexual women (this frenzy by queer fandom to erase every relationship a bisexual woman ever had with a man as being not real or not valid for x, y, z reasons while Straight Fandom is over there doing the same thing, but opposite) but Roxy is by far the Homestuck Canon Bisexual Woman I personally care about the most so SHRUG that’s why you get a million words of my feelings

Anyway that’s why I like them

[onebizarrekai]

(Dreamswap) Another Outcome

In which things change.

(Somewhere in the Justice Reigns castle…)

Nightmare: … so, I guess this is it, huh?

Nightmare: Finally getting what you want, brother? My death?

Dream: Shut up. You should be glad that you’re allowed to speak at all. Don’t make me take that away.

Nightmare: That is odd, I must say. You’d think that listening to me talk would make you want to kill me less.

Nightmare: That’s why you’re mad all the time. Trying to shove it on me and make me be mad right back at you, so you want to hate me more. It’s just a trick.

(Dream shoves Nightmare up into the middle of some kind of complicated mechanism with many parts.)

Dream: I will silence you.

Nightmare: Like a cell phone?

Nightmare: Pft. Good luck, angel boy.

Nightmare: The hell is this thing? Some kinda fate splitter? I mean, I’d certainly assume so.

(Dream walks over to some kind of control panel.)

Dream: I have no reason to answer any questions.

(The room falls silent as Dream sets up whatever machine it is. Nightmare stands there, unable to move in his restraints, anyway.)

Nightmare: … Dream.

(Dream doesn’t respond.)

Nightmare: If this really is it…

Nightmare: Don’t you dare f#%k it up, you hear me?

Dream: What?

Nightmare: Go create your ideal multiverse, or whatever.

Nightmare: I will be pissed beyond belief if this doesn’t mean anything, and I think it’s easy to see why.

Nightmare: I’ll give you a painful death by haunting and drag you down to hell with me.

(Dream stops for a moment, then smiles.)

Dream: I assure you, that will not be necessary.

(Dream presses a button on the control panel and several machine parts move in on Nightmare at once, some locking him in place.)

Dream: Sweet dreams, dear brother.

(Nightmare hears Dream say this before his head begins to feel inexplicably foggy and numb as he passes out.)

(Nightmare feels consciousness return to him after who knows how long. He doesn’t know why… something in him feels very… empty and strange, something seems to be missing.)

(No, that’s not it.)

(Something seems to be getting taken out and something else getting put in its place.)

(He’s paralyzed, unable to even open his eyes. Was he even still alive? He felt like he was still stuck in that machine, maybe…)

(A voice nearby.)

(“Come on, almost.”)

(“Everything is going as expected.”)

(It’s definitely Dream’s voice. Maybe he is still alive after all…? Why?)

(The more time passes, the more drained he feels. What is Dream doing? Is this machine even supposed to kill Nightmare, or maybe…)

(Nightmare feels an imaginary sensation of something clicking into place inside him. He feels utterly empty, dead inside, stuck in this darkness behind closed eyes, and something foreign is trying to familiarize itself with his body.)

(… no, not his body.)

(His spirit…?)

(Suddenly, he is no longer frozen in place. His hands start to claw and shake, his body twitching where it can still move…)

(He still cannot speak. No sound is coming out.)

(Whatever just got thrown into his spirit feels like it’s shaping itself into him, filling in every corner. It’s not physically painful… it’s just… extremely uncomfortable.)

(But, as this continues on, it actually stops, and soon enough, it had shifted from bring uncomfortable to being comforting. His hands drop, his body stops twitching.)

(He feels warmer inside than he ever has in his life.)

(He manages to get a sound to leave his mouth.)

Nightmare: … Dream…

(He utters, and suddenly all restraints on him vanish and he falls forward, right into arms waiting to catch him, consciousness drifting away again almost immediately.)

Dream: I can’t sense the negative energy anymore…

Dream: It… worked…

(He looks down at his unconscious brother.)

Dream: … Night.

Dream: It worked. It worked!

Dream: And…

Dream: You’re still alive…

(He easily scoops up his smaller brother and carries him out of the room.)

(Nightmare wakes up in a bed.)

Nightmare: … What happened…

(He glances around the room, incredibly confused.)

(So… he wasn’t dead?)

Nightmare: What the hell is going on here…?

(He stops and shifts to internal focus, noticing that something seems a bit weird. He feels all warm and fuzzy. His generic bitterness seems… absent.)

(On the end of the bed is Dream bent over from a seat, sleeping on his arms.)

Nightmare: Dream?

(Dream jolts awake, sitting back up straight immediately.)

Dream: Well. I. I suppose I dozed off?

(Nightmare gives Dream a blatantly perplexed look.)

Dream: Um…

Dream: There are… some things to be discussed.

Nightmare: No s#%t.

Dream: … I couldn’t do it.

Nightmare: Kill me?

Dream: So… let me start from the beginning.

Dream: I dedicated copious research into discovering another solution.

Dream: There were a number of suggestions and hypothesis from those who were willing to support me, and ultimately, a plan was formulated surrounding something we weren’t even entirely sure would work.

Dream: But… anything was better.

Nightmare: Go on?

Dream: I thought that maybe, just maybe, I could extract the negative energy from your spirit without eliminating you along with it.

Dream: But of course, nothing would hold it together without it.

Dream: So… I had the energy replaced with another.

Nightmare: You… turned me into a positive spirit…?

Nightmare: Just like…

Dream: Like me.

(Nightmare sits there, taking it in.)

Nightmare: How am I the same…?

Dream: Well, put it this way. Our spirits have been fused with our bodies, and we developed personalities afterwards. Prior to that… we were just compositions of pure energy.

Nightmare: …

Nightmare: Why didn’t you tell me…?

Dream: …

Dream: I was afraid.

Nightmare: Afraid of telling me that you don’t want to kill me anymore? Dude, that makes literally zero sense.

Nightmare: I mean, honestly, I am kind of pissed. You like, changed my entire magical structure because of something you want and didn’t even tell me about it.

Dream: … okay, I actually think I could give rational responses to everything you just said, but I’m feeling too unbelievably emotional to actually do it. I can answer those questions later when I’m internally calm.

Nightmare: … all right then, a more practical question. If your spirit is supposed to be a representation of all the positive energy in the multiverse, where the heck could you find enough to make another?

Dream: Well… let’s just say that everything I’ve been doing hasn’t been for naught.

Nightmare: Holy s#%t. How does that even work?

Nightmare: You haven’t been making more positive energy, you’ve just been destroying the negative stuff!

Dream: Do you even pay attention to things? That’s not all we do and it never has been.

Dream: You were probably just too caught up in the fact that you were the mortal enemy of this organization.

Nightmare: Rightfully so.

Nightmare: Oh yeah, by the way. Where the heck did you stick my friends and literally let me see them right now.

Dream: You could just ask like a normal person.

Nightmare: Dude. They probably think I’m dead!

Nightmare: Unless you freakin explained this to them and not me.

Dream: … you know what perhaps that is a good idea.

Ink: uuUUUGH, are they done yet?

Ink: Why did I get stuck on watch for you guys? I’m not even a fricking guard.

Error: Shut the hell up. Cross is in shock.

Cross: he’s dead, he’s dead, he’s dead, oh god he’s dead--

Ink: News flash, I don’t feel. No s#%ts given.

Error: That’s ironic. I thought that would make you feel less inclined to b#tch about this.

Error: I bet you’re just salty about getting replaced and witnessing that replacement.

Ink: Don’t even go there, Glasses.

(They hear footsteps off in a distance.)

Ink: Oh s#%t, whaddap. I think that’s the boss.

Error: That’s definitely more than one pair of footsteps.

(Ink’s eyes widen as the steps get closer, but Cross and Error can’t see the reason why.)

Dream: Ink, go upstairs.

(Ink’s brow furrows and he walks past Dream, glancing back as he does so.)

(Dream turns his attention to Cross and Error in the prison.)

Dream: There is… something you need to be made aware of…

Cross: You… YOU F#%KING MURDERER--

(Cross lunges at the bars, but freezes in place as Nightmare walks into his vision.)

Nightmare: Uh… yeah, I’m alive.

Cross: HHH

Cross: FFF????

Cross: WHAT

Cross: (incoherent confused swearing)

Nightmare: Cross--

Nightmare: Stop. Listen.

(Cross grips the bars, looking down.)

Cross: Let me out of here… Please…

Cross: Nightmare…

Nightmare: …

Dream: …

Nightmare: Say you won’t strangle my brother.

Cross: That asshole… is screwing with my mind on PURPOSE!

Nightmare: CROSS. Stop. Everything is going to be explained.

(Cross looks up at Nightmare, tears running nonstop down his face.)

Cross: …

Cross: Nightmare…? Your eyes…?

Cross: … Why are they yellow?

Cross: What did he do to you?!

(Nightmare stands there, giving an impatient look. Cross stops, staring at him with wide eyes.)

Cross: What did he turn you into…?

Nightmare: I’ll tell you. You just have to calm down.

Cross: I am calm.

Nightmare: No you’re not.

(Nightmare reaches through the bars and takes Cross’s hand.)

Nightmare: Everything is all right.

(Cross stands silently for a moment.)

Cross: … he did do something to you…

Cross: I recognize this.

(Dream unlocks the door and Cross immediately barges out. He pushes Dream out of the way and hugs Nightmare.)

Cross: But… it’s still you. I thought I was going to lose you forever.

(During their little moment, Error turns to Dream.)

Error: So what exactly happened?

Error: And why couldn’t you have told us?

Error: I had to listen to an hour and a half of Ink whining because of this and I swore more times in that timespan than I have in my entire life that I can remember.

(Dream sighs.)

Dream: … Come upstairs. I’ll explain what happened.

Cross: Okay I literally do not understand most of this shindig but basically you just took your own blinded perspective and changed Nightmare against his will because of it?

(Dream lowkey growls.)

Dream: Why do you always find something to be angry about?

Dream: My brother is alive and one would think you’d be more appreciative of that.

Dream: He hasn’t changed. His spirit just has a different composition of energy.

Cross: He has changed! He’s giving off positive aura now!

Dream: And that’s bad why…?

Cross: Because it’s like YOU, obviously! It’s that unnatural thing that’s way too easy to recognize!

Nightmare: Yes, but I’m NOT him.

(Nightmare pulls Cross up close.)

Nightmare: When the heck am I ever letting my aura work freely, anyway?

Cross: Yeah, but…

Dream: What are you whispering about?

Nightmare: None of your business.

Nightmare: Cross, I’m just saying that this might be significantly helpful, just in a very different way.

Nightmare: I’m still the same, so stop being a bitter prick about it.

Cross: (displeased groaning)

(Nightmare turns back to Dream.)

Nightmare: So, what are you gonna do now? Charge me for required services?

Dream: Are you joking?

Nightmare: Depends on the answer.

Dream: No, of course I’m not charging you. I’m not evil.

(Cross frowns deeply.)

Cross: If you’re not evil, then apologize for the s#%t you put us through on a regular basis.

Cross: We didn’t even do anything wrong and your freak organization was hunting us down nonstop.

Dream: …

(He steadily exhales.)

Dream: … That time is past now.

Dream: You… have my deepest apologies.

(Cross lets out a huff of air.)

Dream: This doesn’t mean my personal opinion of you has changed though.

Cross: Pff, yeah. Likewise.

Everyone: …

Error: ……… can we go home now?

Error: I like… left a game on…

Dream: Oh. That reminds me.

Dream: Do you plan to tell me where you live now?

Dream: It’s not like you have any reason to conceal your location anymore.

Nightmare: This soon?

Nightmare: Hate to break it to you, but after this long of being hunted by you, I don’t think I’m mentally prepared to open up at all.

Nightmare: Besides. I think you should figure it out yourself.

Dream: I already figured it out like three times and you kept changing your address. I’ve had just about enough of ‘figuring it out’.

Nightmare: Exactly. It should be a cinch the fourth time.

(Cross snickers at the displeased expression on Dream’s face.)

Nightmare: And let’s not forget something important, angel boy.

Nightmare: Just because you’re not after me anymore doesn’t mean that I’m not opposed to your work and organization. I still disagree with the majority of your perspectives, and no amount of angsty family moments could change that.

Dream: … I understand.

Dream: I guess not everything can go my way.

(He lets out a sigh, stands up, then takes a deep breath.)

Dream: INK.

Dream: I know you’re standing bitterly over there.

(Off in a distance, Ink is leaning on the wall next to the door.)

Ink: Tch. Yeah, so what?

Dream: Unless you want to be severely reprimanded, I order you to accompany us as we go to a room where these three are able to leave, and when we arrive there, I fully expect you to be prepared to apologize for your behavior.

Ink: What?! I didn’t even do anything!

Dream: You were being a whiny little b#tch during that job I gave you.

(The meme squad blinks, all thinking the exact same thing.)

(“Holy frick, Dream swore.”)

(Cross grins.)

Cross: Man you’re in trouble…

Dream: You should be relieved that I’m giving you a few minutes of preparation to come to terms with your mistakes.

Dream: We’re heading out.

(Dream walks past Ink, soon followed by Nightmare, Cross and Error. Ink lets out a disgruntled growl as Error smirks at him.)

Ink: F@#k off, Glasses.

(Dream turns his head, shooting Ink a glare. Ink looks away, still petulant, but afraid to make Dream any angrier.)

(They shortly arrive in a room with some kind of panel in the wall. Dream walks over to it and turns it on. It asks for a password, which he promptly inputs with one hand on a nearby keypad. The trio watches as the words ‘inner security temporarily lifted’ appear on the screen.)

Dream: There. You’ll briefly be able to use your AU traveling powers in this room.

Nightmare: Damn, I always wondered what that stupid thing was for.

Dream: Now, Ink. Is there something you want to say?


Ink: Not particularly.

Dream: Don’t sass me.

Nightmare: (mocking tone) Yeah, Ink. Say you’re sorry.

Dream: Nightmare, don’t make this worse.

Nightmare: I make everything worse.

Cross: (nodding) It’s true.

Ink: Okay, fine. Whatever. I’m sorry for being a whiny little b#tch earlier. You guys were having a hard time.

Error: He’s not actually sorry.

Nightmare: No, he’s not.

Ink: Leave me alone!

(Ink runs out of the room, and Dream rolls his eyes.)

(Nightmare and Cross look over at Error, who understands and opens a portal.)

Dream: … I suppose I’ll be seeing you three around.

Nightmare: I suppose you will.

(Nightmare turns to his companions.)

Nightmare: Hey, guys. Wait for me a minute.

(Cross and Error look at each other and shrug, then go through the portal.)

Dream: … what is it–

(Nightmare runs forward and hugs Dream.)

Nightmare: … this is weird.

Nightmare: Really, really weird. Let’s just say this wasn’t the outcome I was expecting.

Nightmare: And I’m feeling a lot of weird things.

Nightmare: But, I…

(Dream hugs him back.)

Nightmare: Uh…

Nightmare: Never mind… I got nothing.

(Dream smiles.)

Dream: An ‘I love you’?


Nightmare: Hah. Hell no, not yet.

(Nightmare lets go.)

Nightmare: I, uh… I need to go now.

(He turns around and runs through the portal. It closes behind him.)

(Dream had barely caught a glimpse of the tears beginning to run down Nightmare’s face as he had turned.)

(He had never seen Nightmare cry before.)

Dream: …

(Dream closes his eyes, wondering what exactly… would come from all this. It would certainly be interesting to find out.)

(He turns around, entering the hallway again.)

[waitingfortherightpartner]

All I Ask

Based on Anonymous Prompt: Hello! May I request a Bucky x Reader, in which they break up and it is based on the song All I Ask by Adele? You can choose in which era and all, I love your writing anyway! Have a lovely day and good luck with all the requests :) x

plus

Based on Anonymous Prompt: Hi! Could you do an imagine where the reader dated Bucky for a year before he was frozen in wakanda and they broke up the day he will be frozen and everyone in the avengers team got sad, reader and bucky cried too cause they all thought they’d stay forever together. But years later, when the reader thought she forgot about Bucky, Bucky was now unfrozen and they reunited in a restaurant with the rest of the avengers team?

A/N: So, a couple things.  I actually kind of combined two prompts for this (yay for productivity!) so it’s a little different, but I think it turned out pretty well.  This is actually one of the angstier things I’ve written (I prefer writing super fluffy fluff), so I hope it’s not terrible.  Also, apologies for the weird format, but I didn’t know how else to do it.  I’m going a little out of order with my prompts, but I’m kind of just writing whatever inspires me.  Wrote this one on the plane about a week ago, but didn’t have the wifi to post it.  I’m actually heading home in a day and a half, so then hopefully I’ll be writing much more frequently.  Current goal is to make it through my prompt list (which is from last year because I suck!) before the end of the summer so I can write some other stuff...Anyways, I’m rambling, but hope y’all like it!

Tagging @pleasecallmecaptain​ @mattymattymerduck​ @writingbarnes​ @kissofvenom922​ @b-orderline​ @shamvictoria11​ @callingmrsbarnes​ @barnes-and-noble-girl​ @coley0823 @redstarstan @badassbaker @phoebe-21-99@marvelgoateecollection @palaiasaurus64 @melconnor2007

-

“Doll, say something please.”

I will leave my heart at the door

“What is there to say?”

I won’t say a word

“Tell me what you’re thinking.”

They’ve all been said before, you know

“Nothing.  Everything.”

“What does that mean?”

“It’s your choice.  I have to respect that.”

“But?”

“We just go in circles every time we have this discussion.  I don’t think shutting yourself off is the way to fix this.”

“It’s safest for everyone.”

So why don’t we just play pretend

You meet Bucky’s eyes for the first time since he’s told you.  Years of practice have taught him how to guard his emotions, how to keep the world out of his thoughts.  

But you can see the way his eyes sweep across your face, as if attempting to memorize each feature, each line, each imperfection.  The way his tongue darts out to wet his dry lips.  The slight tremor in his right hand.

Like we’re not scared of what is coming next

"Is it?” you ask softly, and you hear your voice as if it’s not your own, so small and unsure.  You see Bucky’s composure falter for a half-second.

“Yes,” he says, as if he’s trying to convince himself.  “If I’m in cryo, I can’t hurt anyone.”

“I wouldn’t be too sure about that,” you reply, your eyes dropping to your hands.

Or scared of having nothing left

You hate yourself for making that comment as you watch Bucky wilt.  His hands jerk forward, as if reaching for you, but he pulls them back to his sides, fiddling with the hem of his shirt.

Look, don’t get me wrong

“If you don’t, we can try different types of therapy,” you say, trying to make amends.  “We can see what works, trial and error, you know?  Tony has that BARF thing, we can try and get that-”

“And what happens if that doesn’t work?” Bucky asks.  “What happens when those words turn me into...him?”

“Steve conks you on the head,” you say matter-of-factly.  “Really, really hard.”

You manage to pull a smile out of him, one of those truly genuine grins that make the corners of his eyes crinkle.  A smile that normally makes your heart skip a beat, today just intensifies the dull ache in your heart.

I know there is no tomorrow

“I couldn’t live with myself if something happened,” he says, the smile fading from his face.  “To Steve.  Or to you.”

It’s then that you know his mind is made up.  You take a deep breath and nod, folding your arms around yourself, and feeling so incredibly small.

All I ask is...

“All right,” you say, surprised at how hoarse your voice is.  “I just...I need a minute.”

Before your mind quite knows what your body’s doing, your feet are carrying you far away from him, away from Bucky.  You don’t quite know where you’re going, except that you need air, fresh air.  

The walls are starting to feel like they’re closing in on you, and suddenly you can’t stand the thought of Bucky in a cryo tube, of the darkness seeping into the edge of his vision. 

Of him being alone.

-

“The procedure is painless.  A few seconds and then...nothing.”

You nod, keeping your eyes trained on T’Challa as he explains the cryo process.  You’re barely listening to the Wakandan King, every fiber of your body straining to keep your vision from drifting slightly to his right, to where Bucky is leaning against a desk.

I don't need your honesty

You haven’t spoken to him since he made the decision, not because you’re angry, but because you’re scared of the words that will come tumbling out of your mouth.

Your resolve finally crumbles and you finally allow your eyes to find Bucky.  When you do, you find his blue eyes trained on yours, holding your gaze with a look that says so much.

It's already in your eyes

You take a deep breath and steel yourself, tearing your gaze away from the eyes you thought would be your future, forcing yourself to pay attention.

“-monitoring his vitals at all times, making adjustments as necessary.”

“How long?” you ask, and T’Challa offers a sympathetic smile.

“We do not know,” he says.  “Our scientists have already begun the research process, and it is proving more complex than they anticipated.”

And I’m sure my eyes, they speak for me

It’s a break-up, of sorts.  But so much worse.

Because if it were a break-up, it would be a choice that Bucky’s making, not something he’s forcing upon himself.  Another burden he must carry as he tries to atone for things that aren’t his fault, should never have been his fault.

No one knows me like you do

And there’s nothing definite about it.  T’Challa’s scientists could find a cure a few weeks from now, or never in your lifetime.  

“We’ll give you some space to process,” T’Challa says kindly, yet firmly.  You nod, picking a spot on the floor as your brain begins to wander.

And since you’re the only one that matters

Bucky lingers in the room, as T’Challa’s scientists, guards and advisors file out.  The three of you stand in tense silence.  You can feel your resolve break, a tear escaping from your eye and rolling down your cheek.

“Take as much time as you need, (Y/N),” T’Challa says, pointedly fixing Bucky with his unflinching gaze.  Reluctantly, Bucky crosses the room, passing right in front of you, close enough to touch.  

If this were a normal day, you would reach out to brush his arm, his hand, maybe even plant a quick kiss on the side of his mouth, if you were feeling particularly bold.

But it’s not a normal day, and as soon as you’re alone in the room, you sink to the ground, unable to stop the flow of tears.

Tell me who do I run to?

-

“(Y/N).”

It’s the night before they put him under, and that overwhelming feeling of confinement, the one that chased you away from Bucky the first time he told you, has become utterly unbearable.  You’ve opted to spend the night on the balcony of the living complex T’Challa has given to you, staring up at the cloudless Wakandan sky, alone.

Or at least, that was the plan.

“Bucky,” you say, your eyes still tracing the paths of constellations.  You feel him brush against your shoulder, sitting down next to you.

Let this be our lesson in love

“Doll, are you angry with me?”  You turn to face him, your hands moving to cup both sides of his face on their own accord.  He leans into your touch, eyes fluttering closed, and you’re reminded of how long it’s been since you’ve allowed him this.  Since you’ve allowed yourself this.

Let this be the way we remember us

“James Buchanan Barnes, let’s get one thing straight,” you say quietly.  “I have never been, nor could I ever be truly mad at you.  I’m mad at everything else.”  You drop your hands, taking his right hand in yours as you rub small circles into his skin.

“Everything else?” he asks.

“Hydra,” you say.  “Fate.  The universe.  But never you.”

“Never me,” Bucky echoes.  “What did I ever do to deserve you?”

I don’t wanna be cruel or vicious

You shake your head, words not able to capture the hurricane of emotions in your heart, the perfect storm of love, rage, terror and sorrow.  Bucky nods, understanding.

“I know, doll,” he says, pulling you to him.  You slide over so that you’re sitting between his legs, your head resting against his chest, listening to the steady thump of his heartbeat.  

“I’ll miss you, Buck,” you say.  “So much.”

“Don’t,” he says, his voice harsher than you expected.  “Please.”  One word, one ragged, bitter word that nearly reduces you to tears.

“Don’t miss you?” you ask, trying not to let your heart break as you realize what he’s asking you to do.

“I can’t…” he says.  “I won’t…please don’t wait.”

And I ain’t asking for forgiveness

“No,” you say.

“No?”

“No,” you repeat, turning to look at Bucky.  Your hands fly up to his face, wiping a tear off his cheek with the pad of your thumb.  Tentatively, you lean forward, kissing up the salty, tear-stained tracks of his cheeks until your lips land on his closed eyes.  

Bucky’s eyes meet yours again, the steely blue of his eyes looking softer than they ever have before.  You both lean forward until your lips meet.

All I ask is

-

“You sure about this?”

“I can’t trust my own mind.  So until they figure out how to get this stuff out of my head, I think going back under is the best thing...for everybody.”

The way his arms wrapped around your waist and pulled you closer.

If this is my last night with you

Everyone’s gathered in a sterile, metallic room, a lone cryo tube in the center.  Bucky sits on a table, dressed in white, as T’Challa’s doctors finished their preparation for the procedure.

He looks more serene to you, more calm and for the first time, you almost don’t mind that he’s doing this.

The way his stubble felt against your cheek.

Hold me like I’m more than just a friend

He steps into the tube, and you feel that crushing sense of fear and claustrophobia again.  But this time, for Bucky’s sake you fight the urge to run, your feet planted to the ground as if rooted there.

The way your bodies seemed to mold to each other’s, perfectly entwined.

Give me a memory I can use

It’s minutes away from happening now, and the anticipation is killing you.  You meet Steve’s eyes, both of you trying to keep a strong front up, and both of you failing miserably.

The feel of his hair between your fingers.

Take me by the hand while we do what lovers do

They initialize the sequence, and you see the fog begin to flood the compartment, Bucky’s eyes begin to droop.  Before they close and the fog envelops him, his eyes find yours.

The taste of his lips as the two of you kissed for the last time.

It matters how this ends

The smoke clears and he’s asleep, peaceful.

You take one last lingering look, before forcing yourself to leave, 

The way you love him.

Cause what if I never love again?

[goldenhaircd-moved]

✎ [ i feel like i'm falling into a trap but write it for roctis motherfucker ]

send  ✎ for a eulogy -  I FUCKING HATE YOU 

    The entire world had gone silent. Everything felt…. grey, numb, as if she was wrapped in cotton, isolated from the world. Up until that day, she felt as if she had not known pain at all.  Nothing mattered. Pain had been replaced by numbness. How was she supposed to go on? How was she supposed to still feel a thing if he had taken her heart with him? How was she supposed to live with this abysmal void in her chest? How was she supposed to ever feel joy again without him to share it with?

      After a while, she had found herself sitting by the desk, staring at the blank paper for hours. No one would organize a symbolic funeral for a traitor like him, he had fallen from grace and she should not drag others into this. Funerals were for those who were left anyway…. they were meant to bring closure, though she did not feel as if she could possibly ever find any closure. Still… 

             The greatest things in life are always those we least expect. Maybe I was mad to let you into my life, maybe I was mad for giving my heart away so freely… And now my chest is empty. My tears have run dry, our sweetest memories turned into bitter ashes scorching my mouth. How will I ever not miss you? How will I ever laugh again and not remember the way you looked at me when I did so? No matter what I do, no matter what I try to remember, all my thoughts lead back to you. For the first time in my life, I wish I was dead. For the first time in my life, I feel like this is a pain I cannot hope to overcome. 

           I wish even the smallest part of you could still be with me. Even just a little whisper, just the sound of your breath, the way your hair tickled my cheeks, just the feeling of you being near. Maybe then I would have the strength to look forward. But i have nothing, nothing is left of you, nothing but memories that cleave open my empty chest more and more each time my mind wanders back to them. Still, I cannot possibly regret our love. Maybe loving you was the only right thing I ever did my whole life. You thought you were lost to the world, but I saw the light returning to your eyes, I saw you smile and wondered how you lived without. Out of all the things I did in this world, I will never regret having made you smile. 

    Our time together was too short - I want to curse the heavens for taking you from me so soon, our sapling has been trampled before it could grow into a strong and beautiful tree. What kind of justice is this, to take everything away from us? However… if it’s true that all souls will be released eventually… then maybe that will comfort me. Maybe this is what will give me the strength to go on. One day, even if it will be a million years from now, a door will open and I will see you there, I will see your smile again, I will feel your lips upon mine, your voice will be the only sound I hear and then… then we will go into the light, hand in hand, and nothing will ever stand between us again. 

      Maybe this is the only thing that will give me strength. I will fall into your arms, and we will stand there in silence for a thousand years before I will look at you and say ‘Roctis, I lived a happy life, and even though you left the world a bleaker, darker place, I still lived the way you wanted me to and there was not a single day I did not miss you’ . Maybe this is true love: no matter how much time passes, no matter which hardships we will have to endure, we are comforted and driven by the knowledge we will meet again. There must be another world, a better world where we can live and love freely. I will find you there. You will be sitting under the the same blooming lilac, the same stars will shine above us, and we will be together once more - and then, we will never be forced to part again.

       Until then, I will forever miss you and live on, for I know you would not want me to spend the rest of my life in mourning. I will wear colors again, I will laugh again, but I will never love again. The world will go on but to me, it will never be the same. I will learn to live with all color faded into grey and grief but for you, I will be strong.

          Yours eternally, Janna 

The tears spilled on the paper did not matter. Still… it did not feel… complete. For the first time since he passed, she left the manor, left Lukedonia to set foot on that small island where they once stood… where once he begged her to stay with him just for a little longer… and she had caressed his cheek and in that moment, she had realized that they were about to cross the point of no return. Being back here felt surreal. The afternoon was cloudy, the sea turbulent. His clan always had an affinity for the sea and the creatures that lurked within. Maybe a part of him would be there too, in the salty breeze of the waves, in the quiet depths …

   Slowly, she tore the paper in half, then tore it again and again, until she had shredded it down to minuscule tatters which she allowed to be scattered by the wind from the palm of her hand. May the storm carry her words to him, may they give him the strength to wait for her.     

                 “Farewell... until I see you again....” 

[prescribingadailydoseofjests]

4, 10, 35, 47

4. is there anyone who can always make you smile?

“… Ah, always? No. I mean, some people are more successful, I guess you could say. I gotta give Darcy some credit. She tries so hard to make me smile when we talk or skype. She used to drive me crazy, still does, come to think of it… She’s that friend that turns into the little sister you never wanted. Darcy always tries her hardest; in her own…. unique way. Even when she isn’t really sure what she’s doing. She’s been doing this thing where she sends me all these videos she had taken of Thor, the old one. Some of them I think she just does to get a reaction from me because I didn’t know she was filming, him, us. Whatever. Sometimes it’s more bitter sweet than anything.

Sometimes, I just don’t want to smile. Being Jane is… hard. It’s not that I don’t want to smile or that I can’t… It’s just there isn’t really much of a sure thing for me as Jane anymore. I’m not unhappy. Just sometimes I’m too tired. Sometimes I’m too focused on my responsibilities. Sometimes Volstagg does something hilarious but I’m too busy wishing I could strangle a fire demon. I still enjoy people’s antics, I just… show it less?

There are some things that can always bring a smile to my lips, though. But, well, that’s a different story.”

10. what is something you want right now?

“Not to have cancer. But we can’t always have what we want. And getting what we want isn’t easy. It can’t be. There is no true quick magical solution either. Those always have a price, hidden or not. They’ll come back and bite you in the ass later. Sif once saved my life with magic. I ended up fine for awhile, then I got caught in some sort of dimension in a sword, of all places, for awhile. I want to not have cancer right now, but… If I were to take that out. If I were to not have my cancer tomorrow… I wouldn’t be me. Not if I stayed that way forever. I need to continue being Jane. I need to fight this the best way I know how. With science. With my chemo. It can work. –It will… I just need to give it more time. 

I’ll settle for a Salty Pimp Cone. Or even a pint of it or American Globs. I’m not too picky.” 

35. favourite memory

“It was the champion game of my middle school softball tournament. I was so excited. It was the first time we had made it that far. We had been practicing so hard and it was actually paying off, you know? Anyway. My Dad, he had been out of town for a couple of days on his contract job so I was staying with a teammate. And, well, the job was going long and he wasn’t going to be able to make it in time. And, well. That kinda sucked. I mean.. it was the BIG GAME, you know? So, I was a little upset. I wasn’t mad because.. I got it… and he had been at all the previous games. 

So, come game night. It’s late. We have the lights on for the field. I remember being so nervous. My heart was beating so fast I was afraid my arteries would burst. I was nearly vibrating. I don’t remember much about the game. I don’t remember the score. I know we lost, I just don’t remember how much. I just remember that after the top half my friend taps me on the shoulder and goes: ‘Isn’t that your dad’s truck?’ And I look over and there, in the parking lot, is my Dad’s truck. And I see the headlights switch off. And then, my Dad is there, running up to the stands, his work belt still around his waist, and under his arm, he has the most garish neon cardboard. And he gets to the stand and holds it up and it has ‘GO FOR IT, FOSTER!’ on it in block letter sharpy. And, it was ridiculous. He probably made it at a redlight or something. But it was the most amazing thing I had seen all night. I almost started crying. 

After the game, I ran up to him – almost knocked him to the ground with a hug. And I probably reeked and he kinda smelled a bit like… well, poo. But he was there. He took me home and we stopped for Frosties at the Wendy’s drive through. He fell asleep on the couch with it half finished when we got home. It spilled all over my uniform! 

I wouldn’t have traded a second of any of that for all the championships in the world.” 

47. 5 things that make me happy

“Ah, well. A nice cup of tea is nice. Sometimes it’s the simple things in life, you know? Hearing that one of the patients in the infusion center is in remission will always make my day. Oh! Finding out that someone else is taking my research on interdimensional travel to start there own. Erik sends me little notes when people write papers on my work and that’s amazing. I really started something. Some days I can’t believe that I did that. –Well, I can, but the acknowledgment is something else. Um, what number am I on now, three? No, I just did three. Four then, four, I love listening to stories. Volstagg tells the best stories, all that practice with filibustering, I think. It never get’s old. It doesn’t even have to deal with the old Thor. Some of the stories are just hilarious. I’ve gotten stitches from laughing before. And, uh, five. Heh. Remembering the look on Odin’s face after he got punched.”