#apologizing in advance for calling him rat even though no one else does.

[steviewashere]

Hi possible prompt for your ask box celebration (congrats on 330 btw!!)

Eddie is one of those street poets w/ a typewriter that will write people on the street a poem abt anything they ask for, in exchange for tips or like $5

& Steve walks by & asks for a poem & Eddie is immediately like 😍😍😍

& then maybe Eddie flirts outrageously through the poem, or he tries so hard to keep it #professional but he’s so goo-goo over this (Adonis of a man) guy that he fails miserably, or whatever direction you would want to take it

anyway Steddie meetcute street poetry 🥰🥰🥰

This was such a fun prompt. And before we get anywhere with this, I did have to write a little poem here and it does sort of suck. Apologies in advance for it. Steve Harrington is usually not my main muse, lol. But I still enjoyed this <3

Tags: Alternate Universe - No Upside Down, Alternate Universe - No Supernatural, Alternate Universe - Different First Meeting, Meet-Cute, Set in New York, Strangers to Lovers, Mild Angst, Fluff, Steve Harrington Has Self Esteem Issues, Brief Mentions of Car Accidents, Poet Eddie Munson, Muse Steve Harrington, Eddie Munson is a Sweetheart, Steve Harrington is a Sweetheart, Robin Buckley & Steve Harrington's Friendship, Eddie Munson Calls Steve Harrington Sunshine

Also on AO3 (because this one got long)

📝————————📝 Eddie Munson doesn’t sell drugs anymore. Nope. He’s a refined, renewed, reorganized man. That being said, he still needed to make money somehow. It wasn’t enough to do just mechanic work on the weekdays; something had to happen over the weekends, else he wouldn’t make it for his bills.

So he picks up a few new hobbies. Cycling, because that was the cheapest way for him to get around—he’s not particularly good at that one, but he still tries anyway. Photography, because his neighbor was selling his older cameras and the opportunity just couldn’t pass by. Then, there was his new found little business/career/dilly-dally.

Poetry.

On weekends, Eddie Munson, the guy who can’t afford to go to jail because of some rat-faced little tell-all not liking his product, writes poetry for a bit of extra cash. He sets up in Central Park with a little collapsable table and a few stools, a heavy as shit typewriter that his uncle off-loaded onto him, and enough paper to whoever is buying. There’s a tip jar dutifully set up by his feet. And the pay rate is whatever people can afford or want to afford.

One time, he wrote poems for a group of six giggly, drunk girls coming back from brunch mimosas—they gave him $30 each. Another, a little old man who had just beat a group of preteens at basketball—he could only afford the $3.50 that was rattling around in his shorts. Sometimes kids would come up and ask about getting a poem about their mom or their puppy or the little daisy they had just picked—they got theirs for free (they need to save their money for ice cream. And, also, he’s not going to get in trouble for a kid choosing to spend their lunch money. No sir-ee).

The weekends could be dry, though. They could get boring. But the sun hits him nice. And he usually sees a few beautiful pooches. And, well, he gets to work on his craft. A passion of his that he held onto since being a little kid. And people appreciate him for it, which is…nice to put it in simple terms.

This Saturday, though, is a rather dry day for customers. It’s overcast. There are less people out, though Central Park is never completely empty. And his tip jar is basically just flies and dust.

Until, fortunately, a man approaches him. He seems timid, a bit shy, even if his smile is all charm. His hair is swooped over and curling at his shoulders, brunette with blonde highlights. The man’s skin is tanned from the most recent summer, not quite fading into this early fall. Dotted with moles, poking out from the collar of his polo and the sleeves, down to his wrists, a few on his face. He has a gorgeous nose: greatly geometric and centered between all his features, sun kissed on the tip, a little crooked on the bridge—aquiline. His lips are a soft pink, a bit pouty, stretching wonderfully around his straight, white teeth. And his eyes are a tad downturned, hooded, shiny with excitement; hazel, but leaning more towards a light shade of brown, fanned by long, dark eyelashes, and squinting with his smile. He’s tall—probably around Eddie’s height, 5’11”. Pretty fit—his arms are toned and his hands are large and he’s broad on the shoulders, but he’s not bean pole thin like Eddie is, just a little chunkier. And, Eddie’ll never admit this out loud, but the dude’s got a great ass, perfectly squeezed in by a pair of Levi’s—light wash, edging on skinny, but not entirely form-fitting. His polo is a darling yellow ochre; rich and warm and perfect to his skin tone.

He doesn’t know what kind of poem he’ll write for this guy, but fuck him, he just wants to wax on and on about this literal slice of heaven that’s standing over him. Smiling. Hands clasped together in front of him. His bright, sunshine eyes. And…yeah, that’s a word to describe this guy.

Sunshine.

“Um—hey, you’re the guy that does the little typewriter poems, right?” The guy asks, his knuckles turning white as he squeezes his hands tighter together. He shifts from one foot to the other, a quick nervous tic that you’d miss if you weren’t looking at him. And now that he’s stepped closer to the makeshift “booth”, Eddie can smell him. There’s a rich earthy undertone to him—the bark of freshly wet pine trees, a drop or two of eucalyptus, and there’s a touch of citrus to him, too; orange or vanilla-lemon, it’s hard to tell.

Eddie wants to stick his nose in the crook of this guy’s neck. Wants to suckle on his skin. Lick a stripe from the underside of his jaw, down to his ankles, and back up all over his face.

But he just smiles, soft and pulling, and blinks up at him. “Yeah, that’s me,” he states softly. “Want me to write you one? It costs however much you’d like to pay.”

“However much?” His face goes a little complicated. The biggest, Muppet-esque frown Eddie’s ever seen, the pinch of his eyebrows, and a tilt to his head. He’s gauging the near empty tip jar, from where his eyes seem to trail. “Isn’t that a bad rule for business?”

Eddie shrugs. “I dunno. I know nothing about business. But…It’s kept me afloat most of the time, so it’s not terrible.”

The guy makes a short grunt of assessment. “Hm, okay,” he murmurs, “do I pay you now or after?”

“After.”

“Okay,” he murmurs again. Even his voice is doing things to Eddie. It’s all deep at the base of his throat. A little raspy as if he smokes cigarettes; probably does based on the curl of stale smoke Eddie smells from him as he settles into a stool. “I know that you usually do whatever prompt the customer gives, but I’m sort of…I’m pea for brains, so I can’t really think of anything. Is it okay if…Can you just pick something?”

Eddie tilts his head and looks off of the guy’s shoulder. Miffed at how downtrodden this stranger is on himself. He gazes back and asks, “Can I write about you?”

His eyes widen and he jolts in his seat just a fracture. “I mean, sure. If that’s really the muse you want to go with.” And then he gives a self-deprecating chuckle. Eddie kind of wants to shake him by the shoulders and scream to the whole fucking galaxy about how beautiful he is. But he restrains. “Nothing about the scars on the backs of my arms, though, please,” guy adds a moment later, so quiet that Eddie almost misses it. “It’s from a bad car accident and I—I’m just now getting back into the swing of wearing short sleeves.”

Nodding, Eddie says, “You got it. And hey—“ He takes the sleeve of his t-shirt and rolls it up. The shirt’s from an old club in high school, the Hellfire Club. Quarter sleeves to his elbows. But right above the crease of his left elbow is a long, scraggly, winding scar that creeps from the base of his neck. He even points to the side of his face, at the large swatch of scarring on his jaw. How Mr. Beautiful Stranger didn’t notice it, Eddie’s unsure. “—I understand,” he states gently. “Also from a bad wreck. It happens to the best of us,” he tries to joke.

And even his laughter melts Eddie. High pitched and unrestrained, giggles coming straight from his heart. “Yeah, okay,” he sighs. “Sure, I’ll be your muse.”

Eddie sets up his typewriter, at the start of the paper, two fingers down, not indented. “Do you care if I use your name as the title?”

“Steve,” he softly says, “and yours?”

The corners of Eddie’s mouth curl upwards lightly, just a little thing. “I’m Eddie. Some people around here will call me Ed, but you call me whatever you want.”

Steve hums. “How about Eds? Actually…Unless that’s—That might be stupid, never mind.”

Barreling, Eddie just asks, “How ‘bout I call you Stevie?” He grins with it. “We can be Eds and Stevie, the unlikely duo.”

Another little fit of giggles, Eddie’s never felt so full. “Okay, Eds and Stevie, The Unlikely Duo. Thanks for not making me feel dumb.”

“You’re only dumb if you’re a bigot. And, I could be wrong, but every aspect of you does not spell bigot. You seem like a nice guy, all things considered.”

Instead of a verbal response, all Eddie receives is a slow lull of silence. But when he looks up, Steve is staring right back. A soft, pleased smile on his face. Cheeks flushed. It’s like he’s bursting at the seams with the approval. Maybe he is, Eddie considers, maybe nobody’s ever told him that. And that thought gets shut down almost as fast as it formed, makes Eddie’s chest hurt just a little too much to work through.

“So, Steve, what’s got you out here this morning?” He works better with conversation, so hopefully Steve will give him this.

“Oh,” Steve softly exclaims as if he wasn’t expecting Eddie to talk to him. Or to acknowledge him. Or to even exist with him past this poem. “I come out here and feed birds on Saturday mornings. Technically, I don’t think I’m supposed to, but nobody’s stopped me. Just ran out of seed and was sort of wandering around and remembered that you were here. I’ve never had interest in coming over here, but I’ve seen you, so it was just what my best friend told me that drew me over.”

“Mm, word from mouth. All good things, I can only hope.”

Steve snorts. “Yeah, amazing things, actually. She said you were really nice to her. She had come home from brunch with a few of her friends and they were tipsy.” He sighs, chuckling through it. “It was noon on a Saturday when she came back to our apartment. And I could smell the alcohol on her. Think I was…I had been sleeping—I’m a heavy sleeper and I’m chronically fatigued all the time, so I tend to sleep in late. But she came into my room, shook my shoulder, and was a crying mess when I finally saw her. Asked her what was wrong. She just blubbered on and on about how a really nice guy wrote something really nice for her about her little friendship. And I just…I don’t know. I wanna read something that makes me feel better about the world and maybe also reduces me to tears.”

Eddie stops where he’d been softly clacking away on his typewriter. He tends to type loud, but something about Steve makes him stop and appreciate even the air around him. Something about him just soothes Eddie. Also, the fact that he rambles is cute. He’s good at silences. And he’s good at just talking.

“Well, I can’t promise that it’ll be the best thing you’ve ever read,” Eddie slowly states. “I can try, though. I can try to write something beautiful.”

“You’re writing about me, so I’m not expecting it to be beautiful,” Steve quickly says. He backtracks though, stopped in his seat and wide-eyed. His mouth is agape and his cheeks are completely red now. “Forget I said that. That’s—I struggle a lot with that and I promised my best friend that I’d stop being so hard on myself, but it just is…automatic.”

As nonchalant as possible, Eddie begins to type again. He confesses more towards his paper, trying to avoid the eye contact, “You are beautiful, so this’ll come easy.” And then he’s met with that same slow lull of silence. The romantic kind of silence that Steve seems entirely attracted to. And, yeah actually, Eddie kind of appreciates it. The curve of the silence and the warmth of its face, the plushness of its lips in the ways it kisses the both of them. If Steve is so inclined to sit in this silence after admittances like that, maybe Eddie can learn to love them. If Steve wants more than just this poem.

He’s at the final stanza when Steve begins to speak again.

“Have you ever written about yourself?”

“Mmm, no,” Eddie murmurs, typing away, “no I don’t think I have.”

Steve takes a grand breath. “Y’know, if you like writing about the beauty in things, you should write about yourself, too.” He’s fiddling with his hands, focus elsewhere, when Eddie is openly staring at him again.

“Yeah?” Eddie asks. Steve nods carefully, eyes shiny with nerves now. He’s chewing on the inside of his right cheek. Eyes darting back and forth and back and forth. “You think I’m beautiful?” He meekly questions.

“Yeah, I think so. You’ve got these…huge brown eyes that pull me in and they’re sort of soft on your face, kind of like a deer, maybe a baby cow? I love those two, so don’t be insulted. And…You’re always sitting in the sun, but you’re still sort of pale and it makes it easier to see all the little freckles you’ve got. And—I, for one—love freckles. I think that your hair is just wonderful. And I—I don’t know, I’ve seen you around. Maybe I’ve thought about you a little too much.” His smile is sheepish and cute. Absolutely adorable.

Eddie grins. “If I didn’t know better, I’d say you’re hitting on me.” He works the paper out of the typewriter, smooths the fine wrinkles at the bottom of the sheet, and then looks his writing over.

Steve gains a manly kind of confidence to him now. He leans forward, just a hair away from seeing what Eddie wrote, and talks low and smooth. “And if I was?”

He glances up, warming on the face. “I’d say that I like it and…y’know, if my poem doesn’t suck, I know a good cafe around here. Only if this is good and only if you’re interested.”

“Show me what you got, Eds. I’ll probably take you up on that lunch offer after.”

In the short few years Eddie’s been doing this, he’s never been nervous to present his work. But he hands the paper over, hands shaking and palms sweating. And waits, with bated breath, as Steve reads it over:

————— There is a glow to him. A cast of light that brightens the world as I know it. From just one glance of his smile—all pearl and pink and new I could tell there was something special to him.

He’s sunshine, I believe.  The very ball of light, the all encompassing warmth of a celestial body, the very thing that continues to sustain. There is love through him, within everything he does.

Just one look at him and I’m refreshed. Even with very little, even with just appearances alone. May he know the way I was drawn in—maybe that makes me Icarus. To want to know something so much, you’re ready for everything that comes with it; Even the chance to burn up, even the chance to merge with it, even the chance to only see it once.

May he know that before I knew his name, I knew his smile. Before I knew his name, I knew his trepidation. Before I knew his name, I knew his warmth.

It’s not enough, to say he’s gorgeous. That’s not a strong enough word. But he is. Oh, how he is.

He’s painted my world golden— I see sunlight with him.

May he know that I’ll carry his light in my chest, May he know that I selfishly want more. ————— Finally, Steve’s attention goes back to Eddie’s face directly.

“I tried,” Eddie says, “it got away from me, though. And I…I didn’t write exactly how you’re beautiful. But there’s something about you—Something so out of this world, beyond what anybody could ever possibly comprehend. You seem like somebody worth knowing, worth being around.” He swallows hefty when Steve continues to just stare. His face is completely unreadable. “You approached my table and I couldn’t keep my eyes off of you. Just sucked me right in, every part of you. Sorry if this…If this wasn’t what you were looking for.”

Though, when Eddie is only met with that silence from earlier, he takes the opportunity to stare a little longer. At the high flush of Steve’s cheeks. The fine sheen of his eyes. There’s a little pinch between his eyebrows and a twist to his mouth.

“My best friend,” Steve wetly murmurs, “she always tells me that I’m the light of her world. And I—“ He sighs, the sound a lot choked and stuttering. “—I don’t know. I’ve never been able to believe her. I always just thought she was biased or something.” He looks down at the paper again, his thumbs running along the margins reverently. Steve sniffles. “I used to not be a very good person. Used to say things just because I heard them, because I knew they were bad. And it took…God, it took so long to relearn everything. To find myself, to figure out who I was outside of my bigoted family. Even then, I always thought I was just…” He shrugs. “I thought that I was destined for a lifetime of loneliness or something because nobody wanted to be around me. Because they thought I was one way, when I was really the other. Or they could only see me as I was, not who I am.”

Steve looks up to Eddie again. There are tear streaks down his cheeks. Wet and glistening in the little bit of light breaking through the clouds. With the sunlight on him, he’s even brighter than Eddie anticipated. It’s sort of unfair, too, how beautiful he is even when he cries.

“Thank you for this, Eds,” Steve quietly says, “you have no idea how much this means to me.”

“You wanted to feel better about your world. I wanted to show you something that’s changed mine, I suppose.” Eddie sits slumped in his stool, hands between his knees, pulling and twisting at his rings. He chews on his bottom lip. “And I meant what I said earlier, Stevie. You seem like a really nice guy. A good guy.”

Slowly, and oh so gently, Steve places a tentative hand to Eddie’s left forearm. His gaze has softened, sweetened. He’s smiling this small, appreciative, pleased thing. And Eddie can already feel the sun burn developing. “You are, too. Really, Eds. You have no idea what your art does for the world, who you’re helping.” His thumb absentmindedly is stroking over Eddie’s skin. Hand heavy and warm and firm, comforting. Grounding. Sustaining Eddie. “If you meant the other thing you said earlier, I’d like to get something with you at that cafe. I’d like to get to know you.”

“Stevie, you’d be doing me an honor. Just let me pack up here, yeah?” He pulls away, hesitantly, unfortunately. And he begins to collapse all his equipment. Putting the typewriter in its case. The stools folded neatly under his arm.

“Oh, let me pay you first before you put—“

“Don’t worry about that. I’m getting a nice lunch date and a beautiful guy out of this, I don’t need the money.”

Steve grunts. He pops a hip out, crosses his arms over his chest with the poem still carefully held in his grip, and pouts. Eddie kind of likes that he’s a bit bitchy, too. Good guys can have fun, too. “Fine,” Steve huffs. “Let me pay for the lunch, though. My treat.”

Eddie gently rolls his eyes and smirks. “You’ve got a little spice to you, sunshine. I like that. Burn me up and maybe I’ll write more about you.”

“Keep it in your pants, Eds. We haven’t even left the park.”

“No promises.”

📝————————📝 Thank you again for this prompt, it was a lot of fun <33

[yupuffin]

Sentinel

Given the chance to go back in time, Shion wouldn’t have changed anything. He wasn’t about to make Rat break his promise – neither to him, nor to Rat himself.

The hollow words reverberating with the cavern walls echoed just as clearly in Shion’s ears even now: To leave here, to cast everything away and live in freedom. Their meaning his mind had processed instantly upon perceiving them, but his heart, not until he saw Rat’s back, silhouetted against the afternoon sun: this must be what it means, he recalled thinking to himself, when you say you feel something in your soul.

Rat had vowed to take that freedom with his own hands. Now that No. 6 was destroyed – not the physical city itself that Shion lived in now, as Rat had initially intended, but the yawning shadow it had cast over its captive citizens – that was exactly what Rat had done.

It all happened so fast, and yet so slowly. One moment, Shion was pondering how he’d make it through the summer in that little room. The next, he was stepping back across the ruins of the wall, long after Rat’s figure had disappeared over the horizon.

Shion would be lying to himself if he said he didn’t get lonely sometimes – didn’t miss Rat sometimes. But the Rat he had fallen in love with was the one who asserted that he would live freely once No. 6 was vanquished. Changing Rat’s freedom would change him into a different person entirely, and then what would Shion’s feelings be for? He would rather Rat be happy, fulfilling the dream he held closest to his heart, roaming the vast earth without the fetters that had chained him down for all of his life beforehand, than have Rat right at his side forever and ever, but merely an empty shell of who he had been before, eternally sad, never able to achieve the one thing he dearly wanted. When Shion let his imagination wander too far and pictured Rat like that, it closed up his throat tighter than any day he had spent missing Rat.

Shion had to teach himself to stop saying he was alone. It was tempting, especially when he awoke to a gray sky and the room felt wide open, empty, cold. On occasion he’d even wake up from a nightmare where he was back in the correctional facility, crawling through the cramped ventilation ducts, or maybe he was in West Block, or in the manhunt, or even in No. 6 as it was before, on a day that should have been as peaceful as any other. But regardless, he would sense impending doom – be terrified of something he couldn’t see, couldn’t identify, no matter how clear the sky above might have been. He would run if he could; if not, he’d struggle against whatever was pinning him down, invariably to no avail.

Rat! Rat! Rat! Rat!

He’d scream until his lungs ran out of air. When his voice was completely gone, he’d screw his eyes shut, calling out in his head instead.

Rat! Rat! RAT!

His silent screams were left unanswered.

One time he shouted so loud in the dream that he snapped himself awake. Another time he drifted back to the waking world more pleasantly, only to find his face damp – he’d been crying in his sleep.

He never imagined he’d miss getting kicked three times while trying to sleep. Probably no one would imagine that.

But even after nights like these, all it took to calm his heart was to close his eyes softly and think of Rat. Remember Rat. The way his eyes gleamed silver when he recited Shakespeare or Wilde, or even just his voice, brushing so gently so close to Shion’s ears that it might as well have been Rat’s nimble hand itself caressing his face (albeit sometimes condescendingly) – and oh, his singing. Shion understood now what it really meant, really felt like, to say his heart was singing. Sometimes he would simply envision Rat singing and later find himself on the other side of the reverie, frozen in place for several minutes at a time, whatever task he had been working on entirely neglected. When his dreams were at their worst, Shion would often worry that he might someday forget the sound of Rat’s singing before his return; at times like these, he would more fervently etch and burn every minute detail of Rat’s amazing voice – the waver of its pitch, the way he pushed his breath out at the start of a soft syllable, even the way his throat resonated when he sang an mm – deeper and deeper into his brain until he lulled himself back to sleep. (Sometimes when thinking of these things Shion even found it hard to restrain himself from trying to hum, but he knew he had absolutely no musical talent, and were Rat here now, oh, would he let him know.)

The Rat in the real world was nothing like the absent specter of Shion’s nightmares. The Rat in the real world was wandering the endless landscape somewhere, singing, his voice echoing far and wide like a great wind through the mountains. That was the Rat Shion knew.

Rat and Shion shared a promise. As much the core of Rat’s being centered on living freely, Shion’s center was in his home city – a little different from the way he knew it as a child, but the same city nonetheless. While it wasn’t as though Shion didn’t enjoy the time he had spent with Rat in West Block, and as bitingly sarcastic as Rat could be about it sometimes (it would be a lie, as well, to say that Shion didn’t enjoy that once in a while), that kind of life simply wasn’t for him. Indeed, he found great satisfaction in finally returning home. He was perfectly content to stay here indefinitely, rooted in all that was familiar (and some things that weren’t, but that was the exciting part).  

On nights he couldn’t sleep he’d stare out the window. On clear days and those with pouring rain, he’d look up at the sky. If Rat looked up now, too, he’d see the same sky. From a different spot, yes, but at some point in the endless sky, their eyes could meet. How vast the distance between them must be, and yet, if they could really see the same point in the same sky, were they all that far apart?

If Shion left his window cracked, a breeze would whisper in his ears, just like Rat’s voice. Shion’s heart would thump when he thought for an instant it might be Rat telling him about all of the wonderful places he had been, but it was only the wind.

Even in moments like these, Shion couldn’t honestly say he was unhappy. He would hurt, but he would smile, too. If it meant Rat was happy, that was all he needed. If it meant Rat would be at his side again, that was all he needed.

He’d look up at the sky, just as always. He’d envision Rat traveling, singing. Rat, too, was living and feeling in this moment. He’d smile so hard he’d almost start crying. He would call out in his heart to his image of Rat, but not in fear, as in his dreams – no, his cry was one encouragement and of reassurance. That Rat would live in freedom would never change. It couldn’t. And because that would never change, nor would Shion’s feelings. That was the sense he wanted to carry through in his voice, though it was nowhere near as beautiful as Rat’s. It didn’t need to be as long as the words rang clear, together with the song Rat sang whenever he thought of Shion, too.

“Go wherever; I will always be there.”

[myrulia]

About the Kokushibou x Muzan little sister ask can I get prompt 8 please 😅 sorry for the inconvenience.

.｡.:*✧Prompt 8: "It feels right, promise I don't mind."

.｡.:*✧Warnings: Slight sexual tension

╰╴⇢｡.:*✧A/N: If an appearance/personality is made evident, then it is because you are related to Muzan.

`` [Y/N], my beloved sister, have you considered ever finding a suitable partner such as I did? ``

Your elder brother, Lord Kibutsuji Muzan, spoke as you both were seated in one of the many rooms of the Infinity Castle that was well away from everyone else since your discussion held private matters. 

`` Brother, you made your past wives go insane, and the one you have now is a fake. So therefore, it does not count. ``

Muzan let out a huff of annoyance at the same time you did, the habit being something you both inherited unfortunately which led to the Upper Moon Two to tease you about, which led to him becoming disciplined right after.

`` That is not the point. [Y/N], I do not want you to be alone- ``

`` But I'm not alone, I have you and the other Upper Moons..- ``

`` Ah yes, the Upper Moons you say? ``

There was a glint of mischievousness in Muzan's eyes that you became all too accustomed with, knowing he was coming up with a great plan that you know utterly nothing about. Truth be told, finding a partner would not seem like the worst thing, but your stubbornness has stopped you from giving into your older brother's wishes.

`` Since you brought up the Upper Moons, I'll start from there. ``

You quirked a brow up in response to his choice of words, crossing your arms habitually and holding the same accursed scowl Muzan would also make during his meetings.

`` Why don't you get to know them, `` he started, referring to the higher ranks. `` The Upper Three ranks would make suitable partners and would have no trouble protecting you when I am absent. ``

You sighed, pinching the bridge of your nose trying to see a somewhat decent future with any of them. Sure, the idea had its pros, but far too many cons, especially with Douma. He was tall and handsome, sure, but had little to no emotions whatsoever and was too much of a masochist for you to handle.

Then there is Akaza. He was respectful to women and you actually found that trait attractive, but he was too focused on becoming strong and probably would not even give you the attention you would need.

Lastly, Kokushibou. An even taller demon who was quiet, well reserved, and surprisingly good looking despite having three sets of eyes. For once, you did not know the male's motives due to his nature, which allured you to him further. You have tried to strike up a conversation but he was quick to end it and would disappear somewhere else in the Castle.

`` Muzan, I would never consider Douma suitable, Akaza is a 50/50 chance, but Kokushibou- well..- ``

`` Well? ``

You wanted to voice out your opinion of the Upper Moon One to your brother, but knowing him, he would rat you out instantly just so that your relationship with him would get a move on so he can be satisfied.

`` Actually, nevermind, I'll take some time to think about it brother. ``

You got up from your chair and exited from the large room, jumping from the balcony and onto another platform. You repeated this process until you were well away from Muzan's quarters.

You were not even set on a destination, you just wanted to clear your head of his desire to find you a future husband. The idea was not a bad one, in fact it was a smart move in the first place, but it felt forced and not genuine to have to pick based off your brother telling you to.

You were so lost in your thoughts that you did not notice the large figure just in front of you, and before you knew it, you bumped right into the figure's back, causing it to fall over with you on top. 

`` Who- ``

`` I apologize! `` You blurted out before the voice could finish. `` I was not looking where I was going and ended up tumbling onto you so I'm sorry. ``

You quickly got off of the large figure who also stood up and adjusted his hakama accordingly that got slightly messed up in the fall. Once the figure is turned around, you are met with 3 pairs of eyes glaring down at your shorter form. It was none other than Kokushibou, or better known as the Upper Rank One based on the kanji in his eyes. You look stunned as you take in his appearance. You expected a much more piercing gaze due to him usually having one, but instead of that, his face was more relaxed and dare I say neutral.

`` There is no need princess, `` the male said as he bowed in respect, not daring to leave unless you order for him to do so. The demons that lurked around the Castle were ordered by your high and mighty older brother to refer to you as "Princess" since he deems himself as the king. You objected of course, but in this moment you had no ounce of rejection to give. Usually you would dismiss the demons that call you such a thing, but it felt different with Kokushibou.

`` Still I bumped into yo- nevermind. Kokushibou I can trust you right? ``

Your question came out of the blue for the demon. Why were you suddenly asking if you can trust a man like him? Of course he did devote his life to both you and Muzan but his inner feelings and self doubt block himself from doing so fully. You always made things difficult for him.

`` Yes, you can entrust me with your life. ``

`` Are you only saying that because my brother told you to, or are you genuine? ``

The demon was rather taken aback by your bold choice of words, his eyes slightly enlarging before going back to a neutral expression. He tilted his head to the side ever so slightly, confusion taking over his features.

`` Why would I not want to protect someone dear to me? ``

You took a singular step back, desperately fighting the heat rushing to your cheeks and so to not embarrass yourself in front of him you covered the bottom half of your face and feigning a look of pondering. 

`` If you are genuine as you claim to be, then I shall tell you. Muzan wants me to find a suitable partner. ``

You were blunt yet again, believing that sugarcoating information only draws away time that could be spent doing something much more worthwhile. You removed your hand from your face, now holding a stern look with the much taller Upper Moon whose expression has shifted. A visible vein was pulsing on his neck that you learned was due to annoyance.

`` Have you found anyone? `` Kokushibou said with no clear indication of aggravation, but you knew of the male's habits from the years that you have you have to learn of the Upper ranks and their habits. You stepped closer towards him until your chest dangerously brushed against his, your hand reaching up to his hand and grabbing it gently. Kokushibou tensed up at the feeling of your soft hand being interlocked with his, so much so that he could not take his eyes off of your enticing ones. 

`` Yes. You. ``

You stood on your tippy toes just to move closer to his face. His height may have been an obstacle but you succeeded, leaving the demon to be well enough flustered for it to be noticeable. Your little manipulative tactics resembled those of Muzan's, you are siblings after all. You tugged your hand away from his, sliding it up his forearm ever so slowly and to his chest, resting there and not daring to break the eye contact you have built.

`` Even though I am directly blood related to Muzan, would you be willing to be my partner and love me for who I am instead of who I am related to? ``

Kokushibou was well aware of what you meant with those words, after all he himself is very intelligent and could see through your advances. But even so, he found himself falling for them time and time again. You could simply be doing your hair and his mind would wander to how your raven locks would feel in between his fingers. With you being his Lord's younger sister, he thought it would be practically sinning to think of you in such ways, but now that the opportunity presented itself, he would not let it slip from his grasp.

`` It feels right, promise I don't mind. ``

`` That's all I needed to hear from you Kokushibou. `` 

It took one small lean forward for your lips to land on his. Kokushibou instinctively returned the kiss as if he was programed to do so, except it was his full will driving him forward to finally have you as his own. To be able to have you by his side was almost a dream come true for him without even realizing it. Demons are essentially deprived of any real feeling so to have you return his feelings of infatuation fed into his desire all the same.

Although before the kiss could turn into a much more scandalous one, you retracted, but cupped his face in your hands.

`` Would He approve of this? `` Kokushibou asked whilst peering into your enchanting eyes again. His hands had moved to your waist but were quickly removed after the kiss, his own fears blocking him from allowing himself to submit to your enticing touch.

`` I don't need his approval, I am my own person who can make her own decisions. But, it was his idea so there is no need to worry. ``

`` That is all I needed to hear. ``

Kokushibou was the one who leaned forward this time, but before your lips could connect, he went to your neck and bit on your skin harshly which was bound to leave a mark. You gripped at his hair and tugged him away from your neck after you let out a small whine since your greed was increasing.

`` I am simply marking what is mine now, isn't that right, Princess? ``

◇◆◇◆◇◆◇◆◇◆◇◆◇◆◇◆◇◆◇◆◇

[equestrianwritingsstuff]

Fugitives Part 2:

Part 1

@teheranb I apologize this took so long.

Warnings: mentions of IV lines, mentions of medicine, self-hating/chastising, animal death, gross food (rat meat), fever, starvation, dehydration, trapped in a cave, talk of death, pessimism/lack of hope, needles

~

They were running... again.

The IV lines, the old medicines... how could Hero be so stupid? Of course a cabin in the middle of the woods would be an old hero base. Well, not of course, because it is not entirely common to have a base nowhere near any known civilization and of that small size, but still. She should've scouted the building, looked for homeowners, predators...

And cameras. Cameras watching them like a fox does to a rabbit.

A quite obvious one too. A blinking red light, stuffed into a corner. Classic, so classic that Hero actually considered the possibly of having to have her mind restarted like a computer.

But of course that sci-fi fantasy was not real, or possible. Yet. If a rottin cabin could be a base, then a way to restart the brain could be quite realistic if scientists worked on it.

The dilemma between whether or not shutting down and rebutting the brain was a possibility was not the most important thing going on at the moment, however.

Hero was running, as stated above, with an injured villain in her muscular arms. And, if you have not guessed it, she was running because there were heroes, her old allies, running after her.

"Take a left," Villain hissed suddenly, his voice spoken with such clarity that it nearly sent Hero to her knees. But nonetheless, Hero dove towards her left.

Sure enough, the villain led them to a deep ditch. Hero jumped into it and started to run, thinking about how lucky she was to have grassroots covering her-

A bullet whizzed past her ear.

Hero ducked, covering Villain as she fell. The villain hissed, but said nothing else- not even a whimper as his shoddily stitched wounds brushed against sharp rocks.

Hero resumed a crawling position as she helped push Villain to his hands and knees.

"Can you crawl a bit?" She asked.

"Cave 'head," Villain answered, lazily and slurred with no strength left in his voice. Telling her to turn absorbed the last of the remaining strength like cat litter on an oil spill.

"Yeah, yeah I see it," Hero replied and helped guide Villain over various rocks and tree branches.

The cave ahead of them was small. They would have to crawl to get inside, and given that, they would have to block the entrance and then not have an escape point.

They would be starved out, but the cave was the only hope for safety at the moment.

Villain went in and immediately collapsed on the ground in a tangled mess of limbs. Hero stiffened when she saw one of the bullet wounds begin to bleed again. Not now Hero, she told herself. Grab a boulder.

Using her superhuman strength, Hero grabbed a hefty boulder and pulled it into the building's entrance, leaving the villain and hero in complete and utter darkness.

"Are you okay?" Hero asked and blindly ran her hands over Villain's body. She felt his muscles move in an upward fashion. He nodded, or so she thought, but whether he did or not, it still equaled the same answer.

He was not okay. Not one bit.

She could tell by the way he just laid there, exhausted. Hero crawled right up next to him and coddled his head close. He didn't resist as if his joints and ligaments were made of fluid- which also worried Hero. If he got sick, if infection set it... would she be able to sacrifice herself for his well-being?

That wasn't even a question. There was no "sacrifice of the mighty". If she gave herself up, both she and Villain would be captured and killed.

He couldn't get sick. There was only one way out of this and that was him staying alive on limited resources.

How hard could it be? Hero thought with a cold shiver sliding down her back.

《~~》

Day Five:

Hero shivered as she snuggled close to Villain to preserve body heat. Periodically, she would jab him in his side in an attempt to keep him lucid as possible. But, eventually, the need for sleep got too overwhelming that even her persistent taps couldn't keep him awake.

They were beginning to starve.

There was no food in the cave, just murky water that drippled off the sides of the cave droplet by droplet. Heck, not even a puny mouse had visited them yet.

Hero pulled Villain in until her weakening muscles started to ache. His stomach had heat radiating off the two wounds, as did the rest of his body.

"Hey bud," Hero murmured, shaking him. "You up?"

"Mm," Villain replied, not really waking up.

"Cold?"

"Mm."

"Is that a yes or no?"

"Yeh."

"Okay."

Fever. Why did he have to have a fever? It wasn't like the current conditions could permit such a miracle to happen, but it still was very unfortunate.

Day 6:

Hero placed a piece of moss on Villain's forehead and around his neck. He didn't wake up that morning, just tossed and turned in fitful slumber. In the dim lighting, Hero could just make out scabbed over abscesses on his stomach.

He wouldn't make it two more days in this condition, Hero realized with a gut wrenching pang as she tried to cool and warm Villain at the same time.

Hero pursed her lips, draining a soaked piece of moss into Villain's mouth. He opened his mouth, but didn't swallow- not that it mattered, there wasn't enough to swallow anyways.

Hero's own hunger pangs and need for water disappeared within the first couple days, though she feel could her own body weakening as fatigue started to get to her.

Later that day, Hero heard a squeak. Glancing around wildly, she saw a rat sniffing her moss operation in the light. Slowly advancing, Hero proceeded to catch the thing.

She did, hands wrapped around the body and Hero ended its life by smacking its head against the wall. Quickly, she used her fingers to dig in...

"Villain!" She called, her voice hoarse and slurred, as she shook him awake. His eyes blearily opened. Hero didn't waste a second. She tore some of the flesh off the thin bones and chewed it up before regurgitating it and placing it on Villain's tongue- he was too weak to chew through the tough meat.

He numbly gnawed at the flesh and swallowed before his eyes started to drift closed.

"No stay awake," Hero shook him again. "You have to eat."

Villain mumbled something and Hero jostled him again, but he was lost to the world.

"Crap," Hero whispered and took a bite of the sour food herself. She ate only a few bites- you never knew when another opportunity would come along.

Day 7:

Hero woke up late that morning, or at least she thought she did. Villain's head was on her stomach where he laid curled up in a tight ball. His fingers grabbed at her dirty shirt with such intensity that Hero was genuinely surprised.

The rat laid next to them, right where Hero placed it to protect it from scavengers. She woke Villain up and helped him once again to eat.

It was disgusting. More than disgusting. Revolting even, but it was the only thing keeping them from starvation.

Villain fell back asleep immediately after finishing his meal. Hero took the time to look him over. Infection was running rampage. Thank God there was no flies or his body would be eaten alive, especially with the intoxicating smell...

Hero pulled his shirt back down and wrapped her arms tighter against his frame. He wouldn't be alive much longer, so she might as well comfort him for as long as possible.

Heck, she wouldn't be alive for that much longer if that rat was the only source of food in the whole cave.

Day 8:

His breathing was shallow and he didn't even wake up that morning. Hero let herself cry, murmuring into Villain's ear and she held onto his limp body.

"Please stay with me," she whispered. "We can't fight this together."

But the villain didn't move, nor woke up to say that everything would be okay.

Because it wouldn't.

How could it be okay? He was dying and she wasn't too far behind.

Hero sobbed, tears streaming down her face and into his grimey hair.

"Please," she shuddered, but it was no use. He was losing the fight, his breaths slowing...

"Quick give him this!"

Hero jerked herself around to come face to face with a masked stranger. Hero wrapped her arms around Villain protectively.

"Who are you?" She spat.

"It doesn't matter."

"Yes it does. For all I know, you could be working with the heroes."

"I'm not," the stranger chuckled. "Give him this. It'll give his body some strength until he can properly take care of him."

Hero looked at the needle in the stranger's hand.

And then back up at his masked face.

"Okay," she said and administered the liquid.

[cybernaght]

Guardian rewatch: episode 10

The tone of this recap is going to be the crackiest so far. The production quality plummets dramatically here, in a way which is as unintentionally hilarious as it is endearing. I have very little of import to say on events of this episode, and there is nothing much for me to hyper focus on, so a lot of this write-up are snark and bad jokes. Apologies in advance. I would not be getting annoyed at a show I did not care about. 

Day two of the Road Trip starts with Zhao Yunlan waking up with a splitting headache and his own jacket draped carefully over him. I choose to believe Shen Wei left it there. 

Zhao Yunlan wakes up - and discovers that Wang Zheng had slipped a sedative into the party’s water, effectively knocking them all out. He even discovers that she left her doll-body behind as a decoy; thankfully, it’s still Li Siqi and not the blow-up doll from the previous episode. 

With the daunting realisation that he’s been betrayed, Zhao Yunlan instantly spirals into hurt and anger, and this is the moment Shen Wei chooses to appear out to nowhere. He enters offering comfort, his entire focus on making Zhao Yunlan feel better by assuring the man that his subordinate is not one of the bad guys, but rather one of the self-sacrificing ones. How SID manages to function when it’s full of people with non-existent sense of self-preservation is beyond me. 

“Professor Shen, why are you okay?”

Zhu Hong narrows her eyes. Zhao Yunlan’s look is the one of vulnerability, not suspicion, almost as if he is silently asking to please not be betrayed by his newest partner.

“I didn’t drink the water she gave me.”

Another thing I would like to question here is the reasoning behind Shen Wei waiting until the morning with this. He knew that Wang Zheng was about to do something, since he refrained from drinking the water she offered. Everyone else being unconscious would be a perfect opportunity for him to go full Hei Pao Shi on her, or follow her quietly, or do literally anything but wait for the morning. 

“What is your purpose of coming here?” Shen Wei asks because he needs to know how much Zhao Yunlan knows. He does so with a perfect set of puppy eyes. 

We cut to Wang Zheng entering the chamber which houses the pillar/totem, and witness the absolute devastation of her hearing her love’s voice for the first time in a century, as he mistakes her for the enemy and calls her a rat.

I should say that while I’m not always on board with Li Siqi in this show, props to her for acting her heart out opposite a literal pillar. Her reunion with Sang Zan is incredibly touching; she really is wonderful here.

Flashback 1. The execution of Ge Lan. 

This method of execution seems so inefficient, I actually tried to find if it has any legs in history. As my research yielded exactly no results, I am guessing this is the producers showing hanging without actually showing hanging. They kind of accidentally made the whole affair infinitely worse. People are weaker than gravity, the angle offers no possibility of the neck being broken, so this would be a very slow, and very painful death. Yikes, is all I can say. 

Flashback 2. The montage. 

Sigh.

This imagery is so carelessly contemporary it’s killing me. I’m not saying it’s completely impossible for the heart shape to have been known to represent love in this fictional tribe on a fictional planet. I’m just saying it’s a boring shorthand for romance, made worse by the fact that so much of the show’s imagery is otherwise fairly intelligent. I am not angry, I’m just disappointed.

Wang Zheng and Sang Zan’s reunion triggers another earthquake, which is felt all the way back in the village, and shortly thereafter Zhu Jiu interrupts the couple, knocking Wang Zheng out. This - her being knocked unconscious - cuts to Zhao Yunlan wincing while clutching at his temples, which almost implies that he can feel it when his people are in danger. Which would be very cool if true. 

Shen Wei, in the meanwhile is remarkably good at keeping his Professor’s mask on the whole time, offering enough information without betraying his own knowledge or motives, but it is clear by now that Zhao Yunlan starts to see right through it. 

The chief sprints into action when Chu Shuzhi and Guo Changcheng arrive, instructing the two to join him in investigation. Shen Wei opens his mouth to volunteer to come with, but ends up hesitating before saying anything out loud. 

Zhu Hong, too, makes a move to go after the three men, but is firmly instructed to say behind and look after Shen Wei. She proceeds to loudly explain that this is the wrong time and place to be fussing over this guy. 

Shen Wei looks like he has no idea what to do with this display of emotion. 

Zhao Yunaln whispers to Zhu Hong to watch the professor for him: which could equally be him manipulating the Yashou into staying, or a sinking realisation that Shen Wei will actually try to join them either way, or genuine desire to find out what the professor will do next. Or, indeed, a combination of the above. Zhu Hong will attack her task with conviction. 

Sure enough, Shen Wei finally voices his desire to go with the group. Zhu Hong reminds him that he has his own people to look after and instructs him to return to the house with barely contained resentment. 

Shen Wei will predictably try to sneak out very shortly afterwards, and will be, equally predictably, caught by Zhu Hong. Why the man who can teleport would not just teleport out of the house before proceeding on foot is anyone’s guess. 

“He surprisingly views you as a good friend”, says Zhu Hong when she stops Shen Wei from leaving. “You surely noticed it, right?”

He certainly did, although he will always have trouble realising that he is actually cared about in a way which is anything but casual. 

Shen Wei obediently sits down and follows Zhu Hong’s instructions as she attempts to hypnotise him. Those instructions are anything but subtle. 

“Professor Shen, look at the flame closely”.

Meanwhile, the other party has successfully deduced the location of the Hanga tribe cave/shrine, and heads there, only to find no visible entrance. Thankfully, gaining access to the mountain is not particularly hard for the party. Mostly because this part of the mountain is made of foam.

This is where I want to metaphorically pat Guardian on its non-existent head, cooing, “Oh, Guardian. Baby. What have you done.”

On the bright side, this is also where Guo Changcheng accidentally shocks Zhao Yunlan with the Fear Stick, and Chu Shuzhi literally gives him a thumbs up. Those two are a duo for the ages. 

Youchu appear to fight our heroes, and after the first wave is eliminated, Zhao Yunlan decides to go inside, leaving the other two fend them off near the entrance. Considering that the beasts are all hiding inside the cave, rushing in without backup seems incredibly ill advised. Zhao Yunlan instructs Chu Shuzhi and Guo Changcheng to run away if the danger becomes too great. Which he must know surely that they would never do: his department does not leave people behind, and his subordinates will never abandon him. 

To no one’s surprise, the cave is crawling with Youchu. Zhao Yunlan goes on the offensive, kicking the feet out of the monster, but failing to incapacitate it. I am going to do my best to ignore how the scale of the beast fluctuates as it falls down, and focus on Bai Yu’s excellent reaction when his character realises that he is about to very much die.

Luckily for our protagonist, Hei Pao Shi sends a ward his way with a note, warning him of the danger ahead and ordering him to return. Zhao Yunlan makes no move to do as instructed and uses the upper hand he’s gained on the Youchu to get out his gun. Before he can fire however, he once more experiences the painful flashback of the devastation this gun carries, and freezes.

This is when Shen Wei shows up in person, jumping in front of the gun and gutting the beast.

The jumping in front of the gun part of the action is sweet, because it indicates, albeit indirectly, the absolute trust Shen Wei must have in Zhao Yunlan’s instincts, knowing that the man will not accidentally shoot him in the back. 

The gutting itself happens in reverse grip, with Shen Wei being easily within reach of the beast’s long stabby claws, and as such really questionable to me in terms of logic. I would have not minded it if he had been moving through the space in front of the beast, slicing it while passing through. That would be at least an indicator of both speed and dexterity enough to make me believe Shen Wei made a clever avoidance of the claws. But he doesn’t: he just materialises dead-on in front of the monster and the later just.. lets itself be killed. 

Let’s just say that maybe the beast is supposed to be deliberately slow here, and park the long essay in regards to the bladework until the next episode. 

“Chief Zhao, are you alright?”

Everything about Hei Pao Shi in this moment screams of Shen Wei-ness. Well, maybe not the sword. But the obvious concern, the tone of voice, the general air: it’s all Shen Wei. It’s remarkable that Zhao Yunlan does not see it. Or maybe, I suppose, he does, without even realising it. His cheeky grin suddenly appears; the corners of his eyes crinkle, as he goes into a very long-winded, almost flirtatious away about thanking Hei Pao Shi, teasing him for not always arriving on time. 

Unperturbed, Shen Wei chides Zhao Yunlan for not listening to his warning, and Zhao Yunlan defends himself in a very playful kind of manner, adding that he’s not leaving his people behind. To Shen Wei, this is to be expected, so instead of arguing he goes into a lot of detail on how the road ahead is dangerous, as if he is not really expecting Zhao Yunlan to accept help. 

He is wrong of course: proud though he may be, Chief Zhao knows when he is outgunned and outnumbered, and only grins, happy for the Envoy to join him on his mission. 

Shen Wei and Zhao Yunlan exploring the cave is interspersed with pretty damn harrowing scenes of Zhu Jiu torturing Wang Zheng as her trapped lover screams for mercy. It’s a lot; in fact it’s so much even the cave ghosts attempt to intervene, because while they may be very much pro-murder, they are evidently anti-torture. 

As the two keep exploring, they bump into another three of the beasts, which Shen Wei slays in three slick moves. It’s actually pretty cool, despite slightly sketchy teleportation effects.

“Wow!”

(Apparently, this “wow” made Zhu Yilong corpse so much he nearly laughed his mask off. Which sounds adorable)

Shen Wei proceeds to inquire Zhao Yunlan about the gun, party to confirm that it is indeed the dark energy weapon he knows, and partly having noticed that the other man failed to fire it. I wonder how many times Zhao Yunlan froze in the past, considering how easily he once again slips into his mask of playful deflection, claiming that he never planned to fire the gun at all. It’s almost tragic how this person keeps feeling like he needs to prove his own capabilities over and over again. 

Interestingly enough, in this particular case Hei Pao Shi actually does own up to a weakness. It’s calculated: he knows this is something Zhao Yunlan must already be aware of, but still, “full disclosure” is not something Shen Wei usually does when it comes to his own capacities. 

What he admits to, on the other hand, does not seem very consistent with the rest of the show. He says that he can only use half of his power above ground, which - okay. But he also states that he can’t spend a lot of time here, and I am a little bit… confused? He lives above ground. He spends absolute majority of his time here. I really don’t want to think of this as a writing inconsistency, so please let me know what I have missed; I’ll appreciate it. 

Hearing the admission, Zhao Yunlan grows serious for once, asking which they they should be going next. Shen Wei barely smothers a smug smirk seconds before he scries the surroundings with unbelievable panache.

Show off

Unfortunately, his search does not yield any result, as whatever readings he is getting are muddled by the Hallow. Luckily for them, and to Shen Wei’s great dismay, Zhao Yunlan has the Dial on him which he is uses as a compass. 

Shen Wei’s wordless reaction conveys a million questions from “what the hell?” to “are you completely stupid?”

Instead of asking any of those things, he settles for a more neutral “I’ve told you not to use the Hallows.”

“You are very much like a friend of mine”, remarks Zhao Yunlan. 

Which is, incidentally, also the title of this episode. 

Even behind the mask it’s clear to see Shen Wei’s blind panic as he realises he may have just blown his cover sky high. Fortunately, Zhao Yunlan reads the reaction as bashfulness rather than existential despair, and laughs it off. 

Now that they know which way to go, they finally make it to the chamber which houses the pillar/totem, which now has Wang Zheng tied to it. 

This show sure does like tying their characters to totems containing souls of people significant to them, huh?

In all seriousness though, as parallels go, this one is… uh… unparalleled. 

(I am so very sorry.)

Zhao Yunlan makes a move towards his trapped subordinate, but Hei Pao Shi, again in a way which is extremely Shen Wei-like, grabs at his arm, stopping him in his tracks. 

Zhao Yunlan obediently halts, and calls Zhu Jiu out, correctly guessing that the Undergrounder lured them here deliberately. Shen Wei, on the other hand, relays in a hushed tone information what he had observed so far: namely, that the Hallow stored here is the Dire Awl, and that something is incredibly fishy about Wang Zheng.

As he does so, he is staring at Zhao Yunlan’s lips. It is neither the time, nor the place, but hey, I’m not complaining.

They have a brief discussion about the next moves, in which Shen Wei just says he would like to try something, and Zhao Yunlan nods, letting him do it without asking for any details. 

Flashback 3: the Backstory. 

We hear the full tragic tale of Ge Lan and Sang Zan: how they met, representatives of the warring sides of the conflict, two people from two different worlds; how their love did not stop the awful bloodshed; how it could not be enough to overpower the politics; how it lead to Ge Lan’s death, and, finally, how Sang Zan could not bring her back to him. They hear how the man changed once he lost the only person he cared about. 

Zhao Yunlan is visibly moved by this story, recognising echoes of it in himself. 

“The most basic dignity of a man is to ensure that the person in his heart stays safe. If the person I love gets destroyed in my own hands ruined under the system I established myself, it’s very likely I’ll hate these people more than I hated the former tribe leader.”

How much did he harden after his mother was taken away from him? How much of his initial hatred of all those from the Underground stems from that day? And, of course, how much will it break him when he will not be gifted this dignity in his own future? 

Shen Wei is near vibrating with how much his very soul resonates with the tale he has just heard. He, who has met someone from the other world, who was lost that person, is visibly weighed down by his own memories.

“That’s right. Even if they’re cut into a myriad of pieces, the hatred would be hard to dissolve.”

Zhao Yunlan stares at the other man, astounded, wondering what hardships and losses the Envoy endured in his long and eventful life, as the episode draws to a close.

And I am left here trying to soothe my aching heart, bruised once more by this show’s relentless fatalism. 

Next up, episode 11: Oh Boy Do I Have Sword Opinions 

---

Notes. 

Look. It’s been a long week okay. Besides, I am basically marathoning my way through Zhu Yilong’s entire filmography. 

The normal service in terms of analysis will hopefully resume next week. 

[marvelousstevetony]

If you’re still taking prompts can you do “mission in the rain” for stony with sick steve?

I’m going to apologize in advance, anon, for being so late to answer this, and also for how... not great this is. Tbh, this is a mess, but I’ll post it anyway🥲

Thank you for the prompt, though! Hopefully I’ll get back into the flow of writing soon!

----------------

“See this,” Tony starts, “this is why I don’t trust Fury.” He’s stomping the ground like a petulant child, arms folded over his chest even though he’s wearing the armour, illustrating just how sulky he is. In addition, the glare he’s sporting almost makes Clint’s arrows seem harmless, and Steve can hear the sharpness in his voice, even over the loud drumming of the rain.

“Tony—“

“I mean,” Steve is interrupted before he has to say anything else, “this was supposed to be easy. Get in quickly, then get the hell out even faster.”

Steve sighs. It’s not like he’s disagreeing with Tony, no, quite the opposite actually. But moping never does any good, so Steve takes a deep breath and continues walking.

Tony is right, though, he thinks. Although Fury hadn’t presented them with a lot of details about the Hydra facility, he had told them that it had recently been abandoned and that all they’d have to do was look it over and hopefully gather information about their new base.

Turns out it wasn’t abandoned, and as soon Tony and Steve had entered the building, they’d been ambushed. Tony had already started cursing Fury when he took out the first Hydra agent, and though none of the agents were particular great fighters (compared to Iron Man and Captain America), there’d been a lot of them.

They’d taken all of them out, but definitely not as easily as if there’d been more than the two of them. ‘That won’t be necessary,’ Fury had said. He might’ve changed his mind if he had known Tony would leave the facility with a malfunctioning armour and no way for them to get away. The car they’d driven there in had been blown up pretty quickly, just like the rest of all the vehicles.

As soon as they’d finished the group of assassins off they’d contacted Fury and the team, but they were a few hours out. The Hydra agents had called for reinforcement when they realized they were losing, but the two Avengers had escaped before a new lineup showed up. There’s no chance of going back, though, and with no other choice, they’d set off on foot.

And that’s how the two of them ended up in the middle of nowhere during one of the worst rainstorms Steve can recall since waking up in the 21st century.

Tony huffs exasperatedly, and steps in a puddle with great force so it splashes.

“They’ll b-be here s-soon,” Steve says, teeth clattering. He’s trying to stay optimistic, but it’s hard, especially with the severe pounding in his head and the full-body chills.

“Yeah, right,” Tony grumbles. “They probably stopped for donuts on their way… Are you cold?” He asks when Steve shivers violently next to him.

“N-no,” Steve replies, but even to him, it sounds unbelievable.

Tony snorts, but he’s tired and his body is achy all over. He doesn’t have the energy to call Steve out on his shit this time, so they continue walking in silence, the only sounds coming from the heavy rain, Steve’s teeth rattling and Tony’s puffs of air from keeping up with Steve’s pace.

At some point, they reach a road on the edge of a forest where Tony’s almost certain that Hydra wouldn’t find them. He just wants to sit down, if only for a few minutes. The suit’s not too heavy, but it’s broken and there’s nothing to lighten the weight, so after walking for miles, Tony could use a break.

From the looks of it, Steve could too. His posture is sloppy, shoulders hunched forward, head ducking low as if to avoid the rain hitting him in the face.

Coming to think of it, Tony’s happy for the suit, despite the slightly increased weight. Although he isn’t wearing the helmet, it keeps his body dry, and that… that can’t be said about Steve’s uniform. The red, white, and blue suit is drenched all the way through. The colors are darker than normal, and it clung even tighter to Steve than it usually does. Tony wonders why it isn’t waterproof, or at least somewhat water-resistant. On the other hand, maybe it is and is simply not able to compete with the tempestuous downpour.

“Don’t you think it’s time for break?” Tony asks, and Steve casts him a questioning glance. “Hydra wouldn’t find us in there,” Tony says and nods at the forest.

Steve looks like he might just argue and say that they should just continue walking. But then he eyes the woodland and sighs. “You’re r-right,” he stammers. “I g-guess there’s n-no real reason to k-keep walking. They’ll f-find us s-soon.”

They settle beneath a tree with large leaves, somewhat shielding them from the rain. Not that it really matters, Steve’s soaked anyway.

They both let out a relieved noise when they slump back against the trunk of the tree, and Steve takes off his cowl, revealing a blond mop of hair that’s just as wet as the rest of him.

They catch their breath for a few minutes, and Tony’s almost starting to relax a bit. Next to him though, Steve’s entire body shudders. He curls into a ball, hugging his knees close to his chest, jaw visibly shaking.

“You can’t seriously tell me you’re not freezing, Steve,” Tony says, but it soft and in no way mocking.

“I’m okay,” Steve forces through clenched teeth. “They’ll b-be here snf! s-s-soon.”

Sighing, Tony rests his head back against the tree, letting his eyes slip shut. He could probably fall asleep, had it not been for the raindrops that hits him right on his closed eyelid every once in a while, making him flinch.

Steve, on the other hand, definitely isn’t on the verge of dropping off. When Tony cracks an eye open to look at him, he’s still trembling violently, but now he’s also scrubbing at his nose and eyes, and at one point he’s overtaken by a harsh coughing fit that leaves him gasping for air.

Tony frowns at him with questioning eyes. Steve either doesn’t understand that Tony was trying to wordlessly ask him if he was okay, or else he just doesn’t want to answer, because as soon as he catching a glimpse of Tony’s face, he looks away and leans forward to rest his forehead on his knees.

Tony, who lost all sense of time long ago, doesn’t know how long they sit like that before he hears the reassuring sound of the Quinjet. When they get on board, Fury and Hill are there, alongside Natasha, who greets them with a sympathetic smile that somehow still manages to be very smirk-like.

“Damn, Steve, you look like a drowned rat,” she states, and it’s not like either of them can argue with that; he’s dripping, leaving puddles after him everywhere he goes, and his hair is clinging to his face like a leech. “There’s spare clothes in the back,” she says and throws a thumb over her shoulder. Steve mumbles a quiet thanks as he leaves, his boots making squeaky noises whenever he takes a step.

By now, Tony’s stepped out of the suit, which, despite its broken parts, kept him surprisingly dry. He winces, however, at how much time he’d spent on upgrading it, only for it to be destroyed a couple of days later. Oh well, he thinks then. It’s not like he doesn’t like having an excuse to work in the lab for a few extra hours.

Although he’s not wet, and not particularly cold wither, Nat offers him a blanket, which he wraps around his shoulders. “He’s really quiet today,” she mumbles as she casts a glance over her shoulder.

Tony hums in agreement. “He’s tired. So am I.”

“That’s reasonable, I guess.” Nat offers a small smile, but her face falls, eyebrows twisting into a frown, as soon they hear the sound of Steve’s gravelly, throat-scraping coughs from the back of the Quinjet. “He seems a little more than just tired, though.”

“Probably,” Tony concurs when Steve comes into sight, now clad in a dry pair of sweats and a Stark Industries hoodie. His hair is still drenched, though, and his for all that Steve’s face is concernedly pale, his cheeks are still flushed from the cold. He’s dragging his feet towards them, slowly, with his shoulders hunched, and Tony think that he must be every bit as exhausted as he looks. “You okay?”

Steve draws in a long breath. Tony waits to hear him say that he’s fine, just like he always does, but when all Steve does is sigh heavily, Tony is immediately alarmed.

Even though it’s nearly imperceptible, Tony does notice, of course he does, that Steve is swaying slightly as he takes the final steps towards them. Ocean blue eyes are unfocused when Tony searches for them with his own, looking glazed over and weary.

Natasha moves nervously when Steve still hasn’t answered and shoots Tony a look. “Steve?” she prompts, and Steve snaps his head to the side to looks at her, but he instantly squeezes his eyes shut as his breath catches.

“Okay,” Tony says, getting to his feet. “You should sit down.” Placing his hands on Steve’s elbows, he guides the blonde to a seat and sits down in the one next to him. Natasha is quickly at his other side and rests a delicate hand of his shoulder.

“So… definitely not okay,” she concludes.

“Sorry,” Steve murmurs, jaw tight. “I-I don’t… I just got dizzy for a minute there. I’m sorry, I think I’m okay now.” Despite saying that he’s okay, his voice is distant, and he still hasn’t opened his eyes.

Tony can feel the tension in his body as he put a hand on Steve’s back, and just moments later, he senses the way Steve is trembling. “Shit, Steve, you’re shaking!” Tony gasps, and if to prove him right, Steve gives a full-body shudder.

Natasha cups the super-soldier’s face and grimaces as she touches the scalding cheeks. “He’s burning up,” she announces, directing the words at Tony, who is now also cradling Steve’s face.

The difference in temperature must feel heavenly to Steve, because he melts into the touch and lets out a sound that’s somewhere between a sigh and a moan.

“Damn,” Tony mutters under his breath. “Guy’s hotter than the sun, in more than one way.” Natasha rolls her eyes, and Tony smirks slightly at her dismay. “Jarvis, give me a rundown of Cap here, please.”

“Certainly, sir,” comes the British accent. “Captain Rogers is currently running a temperature of 103.7 and climbing. Additionally, I detect an inflammation of the respiratory passages. Although I am not programmed to be medically enlightened, I believe Captain Rogers is showing symptoms of influenza.”

“We need to get his fever down,” Natasha says and Tony gives a stiff nod. “I doubt we have anything on the jet that’ll help, but I’ll get him some water.”

Tony nods again, then sighs when he turns back to Steve who is still pressing in face into Tony’s palm, eyes closed and mouth hanging slightly open. He’s also still shaking like a leaf, huddled in on himself with his knees hugged tightly to his chest.

“Steve?” Tony says softly, brushing his thumb over a cut on Steve’s cheek. He gets no response. “Steve, you with me?” He tries again.

Steve opens his eyes slowly and looks at Tony. His are glassy, face is pinched in discomfort, and he looks like he needs about forty-eight hours of sleeps, but at least he isn’t unconscious, Tony thinks.

“Hey, sunshine” the brunette whispers and forces a smile, smoothing a hand over Steve’s hair.

Steve must detect the worry, because he suddenly looks so sad and, in a way, guilty. “I’m sorry,” he croaks. “I’m… I—"

“Shhh… Don’t be sorry, honey. We’re home soon, okay? Then we’ll get you feeling better.”

Steve is looking directly at him with a confused expression, like he didn’t hear a word Tony just said, when Natasha reappears behind Tony with a bottle in her hand.

“How is he?” She asks, sitting down and unscrewing the cap as she holds out the bottle for Steve to take. He eyes it for a couple of seconds, then accepts it with sluggish, shaky movements and brings it to his dry, cracked lips.

“He’s completely out of it,” Tony sighs, and when Steve doesn’t object, Tony figures it’s as much of a confirmation as he’s gonna get.

Natasha, who is known to be the most stoic Avenger, is now decidedly worried. Her mouth is a straight line, and the crease between her brows is deeper than Tony has ever seen it. “Steve,” she says softly. When he lifts his head slightly, she gives him a small smile and brushes a stray strand of hair away from his forehead. “Hey there, soldier.”

Steve’s lips curl just enough to make the weak smile visible. “Hey… I’m—“ Suddenly, Steve is taken over by a harsh, throat-scraping coughing fit that leaves him gasping for air and clutching his chest. “Sorry.”

Tony rubs a comforting hand up and down Steve’s spine as he regains composure. Natasha just shakes her head at him and says, “It’s okay… How long have you been feeling like this?”

“I… I’m not sure. Not long,” he adds when both Natasha and Tony sigh. “I snf! I was fine during the m-mission, but then it just hit me all at once.”

“Definitely the flu, then,” Natasha confirms. “I guess you’re on super-sick-super-soldier duty tonight, Stark.”

“Yeah, I think this one is in desperate need of some TLC,” Tony says, shuffling closer to Steve to let him rest his head against his shoulder. Steve settles in close, his warm breath tickling on Tony’s neck as he lets out a tired yet please sigh. His eyes have slipped shut again, and his body is slowly going slack against Tony’s, melting into the caring hold. “I don’t mind, though,” he mumbles into Steve’s damp hair and places a gentle kiss in there, too.

Natasha smiles fondly at them; cuddled up in the small seats, Steve’s larger body curled into a ball with all his weight against Tony. “I’ll handle debrief,” she says, and Tony’s expression softens immediately with gratitude. “You focus on getting that one,” she looks at Steve, “back to full health.”

“I’ll get him feeling better,” Tony assures her, looks down at Steve whose breath has evened out, and smiles warmly as he kisses Steve’s temple.

[athanasius-symposium-of-writings]

Pussycat, Pussycat, I love you (Old)

Based on this post on tumblr http://starwarsreaderinserts.tumblr.com/post/144186931331/hux-headcanons-where-he-falls-in-love-with-you

Why The Hatred for the General

You never truly particularly liked General Hux. To you the man was just playing “Empire” at the expense of the galaxy. Even though you could admire the strength and morals the First Order shared with the Imperial Remnants, that was the only thing you admire. “ From the ashes of the Empire, the First Order arose.” Your ass! The grip on your datapad tighten as you looked over your plans for the Remnants’ weapon Sun Crusher. Which the First Order started funding not to long ago. You hated how the Imperial Remnants had to rely on these… “Children.” You said out loud. Honestly the hatred for the First Order started when General Hux demanded to meet with the council of Moffs. Natural the council refused not taking the First Order seriously.

Until.

The redhead freckled face son of  twi'lek whore dared put a blockade on the capital planet of the Imperial Remnant Empire and refused to leave until he met with the council. The old men that once made the council had to bite their tongue and meet Hux in personal on Bastion. The capital planet. The council of Moffs were made of Imperial Warlords that control some of the planets within the Core System. You were the Imperial Warlord of Bastion and was also forced to be the General Hux. At first you respected the man. You couldn’t help that it was just something about him that made you do so. What changed your view was the fact the rat bastard dare, HE DARED, tell the Imperials that they are apart of the First Order and must assist them. The old men laughed. You didn’t. Maybe that’s what’s saved you from being force choked to death by the Knight of Ren, Kylo Ren. You didn’t even flinch when their necks snap or when their bodies to the floor. You simply stood up and said, “When do we start?” Hux, you can tell liked that response.

You knew the Imperial Remnants wouldn’t make it another cycle. They were just trying to hold on to their glorious day of the Empire but the galaxy has change. The Republic won and they lose and the Imperials fled their separate ways. One moved on and became the First Order and the other only adapted and used their reputation to keep their planets in line. Some used the old Imperial weapons but that would only last so long. The galaxy was advancing into the future while they stayed the past.

You would not make that mistake.

The First Order may have power but you have knowledge and resources. A match made by the Maker. If he has a twisted sense of humor and thought you would make a great babysitter.

Ren The Cat

The gentle mew come from the small black creature on the ground weakly trying to get up caused you stop in your tracks. Your boots clicked against the shiny back floor in front of the hanger. You shifted the datapads of reports in your arms to pick up the small creature. It didn’t even bother to fight you once you placed it in your arms and continued walking.

The perks of having your own private quarters on the Finalizer is that you don’t have to worry about some annoying roommate and if they hates cats. Not like that would have stopped you from letting the poor thing stay with you. You for the first time ever had to take care of something and wasn't ordered too. You smiled watching the cat move around the room slowly and sniff everything before jumping on your bed and curled up. You heard the soft snore of the cat as it slept peacefully. Oh by the Maker she- You checked the cat. Oh it's a boy! Aw he’s so adorable. An all black cat no wonder no one saw him. He blended with the ship’s floor. You moved off the bed to get undress until a buzz at the door stopped you after just undoing four buttons of your shirt. You walked over and the small panel to open the door, “ What is it- Oh it’s you…” You said once a tall redhead stood at the door. He raised an eyebrow, “Were expecting someone else, Grand Moff?”

“No, now what is it you want, General Hux?” You didn’t bother to indulge him into an uncivil argument.

“May I come in?”

“Is that an order, General.”

“No, Grand Moff.”

You moved to the side, “Then by all means come inside.” You knew if he wanted to he could just push his way into your room but he of course he acted like a gentleman and asked permission to enter your quarters. You closed the door behind him, “So what is so important that it couldn’t wait until morning-”

“You have a cat?”

“Huh?”

He pointed at the bar furball on your bed that was sound a sleep.

“Oh, yeah.” You gestured to the couch for him to sit down on and you sat on the bed next your cat, “I found him outside the hanger.”

Hux sat down still eyeing the cat, “Does he have a name?”

She looked at the cat. You haven’t had him for more than a couple of minutes and have yet to name him, “Uh..” You pet the cat softly. An all black cat that you found on the floor. A strong little cat that dared called out for help.

“Oh his name is Ren.” What were you thinking?!

Hux was taken back by the name but his eyes narrowed seeing the smirk on your face.

“Cute…”

“I’m glad you think so General. It was either Ren or Crylo.”

The Lost Cats

The only reason you put up with letting Hux over into your room was because of his cat and nothing else. Both Ren and Millicent seemed to have hit off the moment they met which happen when both of them went missing at the same time. A radar technician found them sleeping together behind a control panel. Thank the Maker the blonde found them because you were about to tear the ship apart to find Ren.

You thanked the technician named “Matt”  but Hux didn’t. No he just glared at the poor man.

“Thank you, Matt.” You shook his hand.

He nodded, “You’re welcome, ma'am.”

You rubbed the cat in your arms against your cheek, “Swear I thought lost you Ren.” You mumbled against the purring cat.

“Ren?” The blonde had a light that suddenly flicked in his eyes, “Like Kylo Ren.”

“Yes like Commander Kylo Ren,” Hux replied, “Now get back to work, technician.”

You glared at Hux, “General Hux I believe the technician deserve an award for finding our cats.” Your voice had the undertone of I swear I will kill you if you keep acting rude to the poor worker. If only you knew that was Kylo Ren in a blonde.

Hux glanced at you then back “Matt” and back at you. He was going to protest but the look you were giving him warned him not to. So he cracked a tight smile and said, “Thank you Matt for finding them. You have the rest of the day off-”

“Thank you sir but I have work to do that I rather do than sit around all day.” With that the blonde left with his tool box in hand.

Hux looked like he was ready to pull out his blaster and shoot the undercover Ren.

“What a good worker.” You said with a smile.

“Yeah he would be a good worker in the trash compactor….” Thought Hux which he knew Kylo heard.

We Only Share The Same Quarters Because Of The Cats

Yes, you are the one who suggest for Hux and yourself to share quarters so you both have to worry about bringing the cats across the ship all the time. Yes you said that. Yes that is your reason and not because you enjoyed falling asleep next the General. Nope not at all.

You were surprised how quickly Hux had set up your and his quarters then again he would do anything to make his precious Millicent and you would do anything to make your little Ren happy.

The first night was odd. Sleeping in the share bed, sharing a bathroom and the worst part.

Seeing each other in clothing other than uniforms. It took you both off guard and some words were said.

“You have a lot of freckles…”

“You have a tattoo?”

Why did you decide to wear a shorts bra and shorts to bed?! Great now he saw the Imperial tattoo on your thigh. This cause you to rubbed the back of your neck.

“You should a get a First Order one as well.” Hux lifted the left side of his shirt revealing more skin and a First Order tattoo.

You couldn’t help but smile a little.

Sleeping in the same bed took some time to get use to since Hux was a rough sleeper. The man kriffing punched you in his sleep. You had to have four cups of coffee and a Hyper-Adrenal Stim just to make it through the day. “All for the kids” You remind yourself.

Hux was in bed last which give you a little time to take a quick catnap. When he started to toss and turn, you start to get out of bed to go sleep on the couch when an arm wrapped around your waist pulling you close to his body. You resisted him admittedly but once a soft whisper against your neck.

“Don’t leave. Not when I finally have you.”

Why must this man make your life so difficult?!

We Can Do Better

Weeks past after that night and neither of you both spoke about it. You took it as Hux was just talking in his sleep and well Hux was to proud of man to make the first move. He didn’t mean to say what he said that night but it happened and since you haven’t demanded to moved back to your old quarters and still sleep in the same bed with him, maybe he didn’t screw up.

Work kept both of your minds busy especially with the construction of Sun Crusher base which you swear to the Maker that Hux was forcing it to look like a Starkiller base 2.0. This frustrated you and it frustrated him that you didn’t want him to assist on the project.

“This is my weapon! Not yours!” You toss the datapad on his desk. Yes Sun Crusher was you pride and joy as well the last weapon to be created by the hands of the Empire. So yes you had the right to be upset about him daring to taint your work.

“I am fully aware of that -”

“Than don’t kriffing touch my stuff.” You said coldly before leaving his office without waiting for him to dismiss you.

You didn’t go straight back you the shared quarters after finishing your shift. You walked around for a bit. You need to both calm down and think of way to apologize to Hux.

The past few weeks with him had lessen your hatred for the man. In fact you may have even found yourself caring for the redhead. The cats had because also a bridge for you two to bond. You wanted to punch a wall ( now you can see why Kylo destroyed panels).

You took a breath before walking into the room, “Hux I-” You grew quiet once you saw he was watching the cats curled up next to each other. Yes the inner cat lady in you was girling out so hard. You walked over and stood next the General, “They look cute together.”

Hux just nodded, “It’s like us, isn’t it?”

You rolled your eyes, “Almost like us.” You crossed your arms, “But we can do better.”

“Oh?”

“Yeah.” You turned your head and whispered in his ear with a smirk on your face.

You never seen Hux blush before.

[l0rd-0f-the-lies]

*paps* It's all good M'Thude! Now.. Prompts.. Hhmm. Virgils reaction to Janus now being accepted into the "Light Sides"? Or.. Remus and Roman dealing with the fallout of the events that just transpired? Oh.. How about everyone's internal monologue upon hearing Deceit say his name? 🤗

(Disclaimer: I haven't written fic in, several years. Apologies in advance. I also can't figure out how to add a read more, unfortunately.)

Chosen Prompt: Roman and Remus deal with the fallout after SVSR

Pairings: None

Warnings: Angst, but with a happy ending. Some very minor actions that could be considered harmful to the self (digging fingers into arms/shoulders).

Roman didn't want to be in his room any more. His knees had been digging into the pacing worn carpet for far too long already, his fingertips were forming indents on his elbows, and he was tired of staring at the monuments to projects past that glared down at him, menacing reminders of when he was Thomas's ... when the others valued his ideas. Yeah, that. He also just, wanted to be somewhere the others wouldn't go looking, if they bothered to. Patton had already come by to 'check' on him, and had been forced to tell his peace to Roman's door as the prince had refused to get up to answer it. Apparently the parental side felt that Janus hadn't really meant what he'd said, and that there'd been a misunderstanding. He'd apologized for not speaking up during their... disagreement, something about not trying to take sides, and had declared that "You boys will make up in no time, I just know it," before sighing and walking off again, seeming to accept that he wouldn't be invited inside. Yeah, Roman had mentally scoffed, he's so sure. They'll just be buddy buddy in no time... It shouldn't even matter. It shouldn't.

It did.

Wiping yet again at his face, the fanciful side closed his eyes in order to avoid the judgemental gaze of his own decor, consumed by the whirl of thoughts clogging his head. Where could he go? The imagination was far too obvious, if he went to the subconscious it's likely a Function would rat him out, the only other place would be someone else's... But no. None of them would want to see him right now, nor would he want them to see him like this. The only person who might not judge his disheveled state, who wouldn't care how good or bad he might actually be... Is the only one who he really had no right to ask that of, with all the distance he'd placed between them. And yet... the thought wouldn't leave him. Maybe... maybe he would understand, whether Roman felt he deserved it or not. And so, with a deep exhale, the prince sunk down, eyes closing as he Travelled.

He rose up slowly, still settled on his knees as he reappeared, the press of hardwood harsh against them. It made sense, he supposed. Wood was easier to clean up, should... unsavory things spill on it. Eyes taking in his new surroundings, quickly flicking away from things better left unacknowledged, he almost missed the dark lump settled on his brother's bed. It was quiet, so quiet, and that terrified Roman more then if he'd triggered some sort of trumpet launched fireworks booby trap. Remus was -never- quiet, or at least, he'd never been when Roman was around.

"R-remus?" He winced as his voice cracked, vocal cords worn out from crying for so long. "What are you-" His words cut short as the lump sniffled, a loud, snotty sounding snort came from the lump, causing Roman to grimace. Tissues were invented for a reason, not that that'd matter to Remus. "Are you cr- Are you ok?" He amends, it hadn't even occured to him that Remus may be dealing with something himself.

"Just peachy. Like that giant one those kids gobble-gobbled up. Not that you care, of course." It wasn't as if Roman had ever made much effort to seek out his company in recent years, much less made any move to comfort him. No, usually he'd be the first to insult him, remind him of his 'dark side' status. So quick to remind everyone how much better he was then his 'twisted' sibling. Not that he was the cause of this particular cry session. Not directly. No, that honor didn't belong to him today.

The Duke's response caused Roman to wince, glancing down and at least having the decency to look sorry, not that Remus could see it, steadfastly facing the far wall rather then turning over. "I, I do actually." He voiced without stopping to consider why. His heart pounded harshly as the reality that his brother probably wouldn't believe him suddenly hit him, driving him to forget his own reason for coming here for the moment. Instead the crushing need to apologize was swarming, cloying his eyes once more. "I know I haven't, sometimes, and I'm sorry. I, I haven't been very fair to you, recently, and I'm so, so sorry Remus. Please, talk to me? What happened?" He forced himself to stand, knees pulsing painfully in protest after being kept in the same position for so long. Shuffling forward slowly, reminiscent of someone trying to avoid spooking a semi feral cat, he settles on the edge of Remus's bed, hands fidgeting in his lap as he debates reaching towards his sibling.

Remus scrunches his face, forcibly stuffing another wave of tears down as the seemingly genuine words meet his ears, as the bed dips, telling him his brother had taken a seat. "What happened," he grits out, quite literally grinding his teeth together, "is you and Jan decided to drag -me- into your little cat fight." The sound of a shaky inhale can be heard from him, before he slowly turns over, red, watery eyes locking onto Roman's with an unreadable expression. "Well, he did the dragging. But you just rolled right with it, let it cut you real good, didn't ya? God forbid you get compared to the horror that is -me-, right?" He bit out, anger flaring, propping himself on an elbow and a knee to sit up. "You're just here because you got compared to your 'evil twin', and obviously that means Tommy thinks you're just as bad as me, right?" His eyes watered dangerously, threatening to spill over once more. "Doesn't feel so good, does it? Being called the evil one?"

Roman sat frozen, eyes growing wide the more Remus spoke, the more hurt and anger filled the air between them. "I-" He clenched his fingers together tightly, squeezing. "I-" He stuttered out, so much for royal eloquincy. He throws his hands up, frustrated with his inability to form a response to the unexpected, raw pain in his brother's words. What did one even say to that? It had never crossed his mind that his opinion, all of their opinions really, of his brother would actually hurt him. Remus, of all people, seemed the type to -enjoy- being referred to as sinister, wicked, and yes, evil. Or, Roman supposed, that's what he'd always assumed. "I thought you liked being called that?"

Remus seemed to deflate, sighing more to himself then anything and collapsing back against his pillows again. "That's what you choose to focus on?" He asks, again more to himself then anything, before sighing a second time, eyes losing some of their heat. "It can be fun, sometimes. Winding people up until they say it. But only because they think it anyway. Even, even if -you- had said it, I probably wouldn't care. I may have even laughed. But... but Jan, Dee knows. He knows I don't really like it. Especially in comparison to you. He, he's told me before, that I'm not. Not the evil twin. Not a mistake. Not bad, just different. And then... Then he says that. Because he knows it will hurt you, knows it's one of those things you're so fucking insecure about, and don't think I haven't noticed. You have more of those then a dragon's lair does skulls. And I know, I -know- he was hurt, near devastated really, and was just reaching for the lowest, easiest one of those to dig into, to stab at -you- with, but..." He exhales slowly, salty tracks making their way down his face. "But that doesn't mean it didn't -hurt-. Doesn't mean there isn't a chance he really thinks it, no matter -what- he says otherwise. He's Deceit, right?" He huffs bitterly, wrapping his arms around himself and digging his fingers into his shoulders, anger and hurt shimmering in his gaze. Under that though, is something Roman is so, so familiar with. He sees it in the mirror far too often, when his thoughts get the better of him. Deep seated insecurity, shining and broken. It doesn't belong on his twin's face, he finds himself thinking, leaning forward and hovering a hand over Remus, ensure if the other wants to be touched right now.

"I... I didn't know." He says quietly, rushing to finish his thought as he realizes he's said that out loud. "But- but that doesn't make it okay." Roman swallows, trying to quickly comes to terms with his rapidly shifting opinion of his brother after the deeply personal admittance from him, the word 'mistake' ringing uncomfortably in his head. Suddenly, he's no longer seeing a villian, just a hurting, lonely kid, same as him. Just someone who doesn't deserve to feel this way about things they have no control over, never had a choice about. "He's right, and I wish, I wish I had thought of it that way sooner. You -aren't- evil Remus, maybe, maybe you never were. You're just, so different from me, and we were so young when I first started calling you that, but I shouldn't have judged you so harshly. You can be a bit much, but you didn't choose what pieces you got, what role you filled. It doesn't make you a villian. It never should have." He's near about to cry again himself, seeing the hurt he'd helped to cause suffocating his sibling like this. He rests his palm on Remus's arm, squeezing reassuringly. "And I'm sure that De-" He cuts himself off, "that Janice, agrees. He may be a liar, but what does he get out of telling you that you aren't really the bad guy? He knows you aren't evil, Re. It's like you said, he just went for the easiest jab, something he knew I'm afraid of. That I -was- afraid of."

And yeah, Roman hadn't known what response to that he'd expected, but it certainly wasn't the long pause followed by a string of steadily growing giggled. "What did I say? Remus? Are you al-" His question is interrupted by a rough wheeze from the side in question, punctuated by even more giggles before he manages to answer.

"Did- did you say -Janice-? You still think it's -Janice-?" Remus wheezes out, managing a giddy smile as he cackles.

"Y-yes?" His brother hesitantly responds, both looking & sounding unsure. "I, that -is- his name, isn't it? ...You even called him Jan!" Roman suddenly recalls, looking bewildered and nearly offended.

Remus's laughter only grows stronger at that, before he dramatically wipes a tear from his eye, clutching his stomach as he manages to wind down the cackles enough to speak. "Ro, I hate to be the one to break this to you, but you are dumb as a box of rocks."

"Hey!"

"It's Janus. Or as I like to call him, Jaynus." This sets off another round of chuckling from the more chaotic twin. "Ya know, as in the -Roman- god, Janus? With a u and an s? Has two fudgin' faces just like dear double Dee's logo?" If ever a grin could be described as shit eating, that was Remus's expression right now.

Roman, at this point, was bright red, embarrassment tinting his skin. "I- I knew that!" He cries, puffing up his chest and placing his fists on his hips. All it took was a skeptical, unimpressed look from his brother and he was deflating, admitting defeat with the lowering of his arms. "Ok, so maybe I didn't! But how was I supposed to know? Mythology is the nerd's thing, not mine!"

"Clearly." Remus teased, sitting up properly and moving to settle beside his brother. His grin slowly faded, replaced by a serious expression that absolutely didn't belong on his face. He clears his throat, but doesn't go on, trying to decide on what he wanted to say as his brother's gaze settled on him questioningly.

"Remus?" He asks, his own expression fading as he takes note of this. "Everything ok?"

"With me? I feel... a lot better. Probably too much. I may have to set something on fire just to get the jitters out later. But what about -you-?" He asks, inquisitive gaze locking with his twins.

"Me? What about me?" Roman scrunches his face in confusion, the quick shifts of their conversation leaving him a bit disoriented as to what his brother meant.

"What about you, what? Don't give me that, I saw how you looked when you first rose up. You came here because you were upset too, and not just about Jan's jab."

Roman unconsciously flinches at the reminder, the ghosts of the looks the other's had given him, at Thomas's lie, because Janus had confirmed it was a lie, hadn't he, clawing at his chest. "I, I'm fine." His voice sounds weak even to his own ears. The look from his brother leaves him grasping at straws. "We literally just established you aren't evil, so what he said doesn't matter, ok? I'm fine."

"You're avoiding what I really mean, Ro." Remus raises his eyebrows, slowly settling a hand on Roman's shoulder, arm tensed as if convinced his brother would pull away. "I'm talking about what -you- said. About not being-"

"What about it?" Roman chokes out, forcing himself not to throw Remus's hand off as he cuts him off. "I know I'm not evil, since you aren't, but... But I'm not the hero either. I'm not -his- hero. I get it, really, I do." He glares down at his boots, expression closing off again.

"Yes, you are."

"W-what?" He's sure he's heard wrong.

"I said, you are. Of course you're his hero Roman, making a few mistakes doesn't change that. Don't be an idiot."

He feels a treacherous bead of hope bubble in his chest, but no, he can't- "But Janus-"

Remus's brow furrowed, his fingers squeezing the other's shoulder to get him to look at him again. "Janus nodded. You assumed he meant Thomas was lying, but you know what they say about -ass-umptions, bro. Thomas was telling the truth."

"What?"

Remus just rolls his eyes, sighing. "He was telling the truth. Janus was agreeing with Thomathy when he nodded. You are that dork's hero, like it or not, and I don't see that changing anytime soon."

Roman doesn't respond, stilling as he processes this. And then-

"Oh damnit. Come here Count Cry-ula." Remus gripes, no real heat to it as he pulls his brother to him, hugging him tight in a way he hasn't since childhood.

Roman manages to laugh wetly through what was probably the second dozen round of tears that night, hugging back like it's the only chance he'll get. "R-really? You aren't, just saying that to make me feel better?"

"Do I -seem- like the feel better side to you?" His brother snorts, a few tears of his own making another run for it. "Yes, really. He loves you Roman, and even if we're all so emotionally backed up it's about to come out the other end, the others do too."

And for the first time that night, he believes it. The hope is so big now, bubbling brightly in his chest, overflowing and spilling freely down his face as he buries it into his twin's shoulder, a bright laugh managing to escape him as his heart swells. They don't hate him. -Thomas- doesn't hate him. Maybe... Maybe things will be okay after all, both twins think, and they laugh together as they cry, the sound a perfect harmony.

[wildegreenlight]

you

A/N: because I cannot get enough of Shell Cottage, or the nobleness of Ron’s bare feet...

This is the third installment of this missing moments series. Together they make a nice story, but they can be read independently.

Just  in case

Much love to the always amazing @callieskye You are the wind beneath my wings and the biscuit beneath my gravy! Thank you for polishing the rough edges of my fic!

I apologize in advance for butchering the French...remember: everything I did, I did out of love ;)

Wind whipped the edges of the borrowed dressing gown and she burrowed herself deeper into the curve of his arm. She couldn’t even lie to herself; it wasn’t the cold that made her relieved when he completed the circle with his other arm, pulling her close to his chest. She was vaguely aware of the others saying something: Luna, her voice as light as a bird’s song why had she not appreciated how beautiful her voice was before? She felt Ron speak, but couldn’t quite make out his words.

All she really could hear was the sound of the surf and the steady beating of Ron’s heart. She didn’t think she’d ever been so grateful for a sound before.  She scrunched her eyes shut for a moment to try and better fix it in her mind. Thub thub. Thub thub.  Pressing her ear even closer, the sound took over; convincing her, reassuring her that he was actually alive, that they were alive, and they were here together. How was it possible to feel so safe and warm when the world was literally in shambles at your feet? 

Feet. Ron’s feet. 

Once they were back in the cottage, Ron walked with her toward the stairs. After so many months of being on their own, having so many people around was making her more than a little anxious. She wondered if he felt the same. More than anything right now she needed to be alone with him.

“You need to rest, let me take you up,” he looked at her so tenderly that she almost couldn’t breathe.

“I’m fine,” it wasn’t a lie, just an exaggeration, “I could use a trip to the loo though.” 

“Ok, I’ll come with,” his face flushed at his unintentional forwardness, “I mean, I’ll wait in the hall ‘till you’re done...I...I don’t think you should try the stairs alone yet.”

“Thank you...I think that’s a good idea.”

If she walked a little slower than was absolutely necessary there was no harm in it, it was best to be cautious with dark curses wasn’t it? And if it kept his arm around her a few more minutes, that was okay too, wasn’t it? 

At the end of the hallway he paused at the open door, stepping slightly away from her so that she might go inside alone. The absence of his arm around her made her unsteady, and she swayed slightly. Ron quickly cupped her elbow, looking more than a little panicked.

“Woah,” she smiled at him to calm his fears, “maybe I should sit for just a bit.”

“Here,” he turned her toward the room he had carried her into hours earlier, all but lifting her this time as well, “chair or bed?”

“Bed,” she shook her head when he tried to guide her toward the pillows, “but just to sit...will you sit with me?”

“Of course, but if you are tired I can sit in the chair while you sleep.”

“No, this is better,” she closed the tiny space between them, pressing her left side against his right.

“Are you sure you’re okay?” 

Once again he wrapped a protective arm over her shoulder, and she gave a contented hum before she could stop herself. But why would she stop herself? Wasn’t that a child’s game? Were they not past all that? Time and doubt were not luxuries they could afford. Any doubt she may have harbored about his feelings had died a noble death on a cold floor and been swept out to sea while he clutched her in his arms.

“Ron,” once again she looked down at his bare feet, pale against the cheery rug.

“Yeah?”

“What happened to your shoes?”

“Uhm...my shoes?”

Hermione already knew the answer, had seen them on Dobby’s feet before Bill had completed the burial, but she wanted to see what he would say. And even though it meant losing some of their closeness, she changed positions so that she was facing him.

“Well, Dobby...you know how he loves...loved,” he turned toward her, “he loved socks...and trainers. And it just didn’t seem right, ya know, for him to not have any...for, well, forever...and it was the least I could do. I mean seeing as how he saved...he saved you.”

He passed the back of his hand over his cheek and let out a huge sigh.

She let her hand find the warmth of his knee, “Us...he saved all of us.”

“Well at the time I wasn’t really thinking about anyone else,” he took her hand in his for emphasis. “There’s no way I could ever pay him back, but I had to at least do something.”

She studied his face. The simple, noble earnestness in what he had said. How could someone have such pure intentions? Give and expect nothing in return, not even recognition?

“I think it was perfect,” she laced her fingers between his, “but he wasn’t the only one that saved me.”

Ron was already shaking his head, she knew this wouldn’t be easy. 

“You saved me.”

“No,”he lowered his eyes dejectedly. 

“You offered to take my place,” she dipped her head lower, trying to bring his eyes to hers.

“Didn’t do any good,” he said it so softly that he wasn’t even sure she’d hear it. 

“Is that what you really think?”

He did look at her then, his eyes suddenly row-fierce, “It’s what I know, Hermione! She hurt you and I couldn’t do a damn thing to stop it!” 

There, that’s better. He wasn’t the only one good at strategy. She raised her voice just enough to match his. 

“No one else made that offer...YOU did! You didn’t even hesitate!” Could he honestly not see what that those four words had meant to her? Have me! Keep me! 

“You have to believe I’d give anything for it to have been me and not you.”

He was doing that thing he’d been doing ever since his return: not exactly backing down from her, but not challenging her too fiercely either. Not this time! 

“Of course I believe it!! Can you believe that I would give anything to keep that from happening?”

“Don’t say that,” his words struggled to free themselves from his clenched jaw.

“Why not...why are you the only one that can make the sacrifice? Why are you the only one that gets to show how they feel? Why, Ron?”

“Because..because I don’t deserve it!!” He ignored her look of admonishment, making a small concession, “Not yet...maybe I never will.”

Hermione looked down at their joined hands, noticing the cluster of tiny scars on his forearm. Tracing them with the index finger of her free hand, she thought of what a ridiculous word deserve was. Deserve was a word that tried to make the world a world where things made sense. A world where, if you did as you were told and read all the right books and brushed your teeth and finished your homework, you got to live happily ever after. A world an arrogant, privileged, eleven year-old-Hermione believed in and worked ardently for. A world that this Hermione knew was nothing more than a lie. 

“And you think I do?” 

“You know I do.”

“If you think so much of me, why can’t you trust what I think of you?” She could tell he didn’t have an answer for that. “I don’t really believe in ‘deserving’ any more...but if anyone does, it’s you.”

“I left.”

“You came back.” 

It was that simple, in her mind anyway, but she understood him well enough to know that for him it would take time. She breathed a wordless prayer that they would be given that time. When she looked back over it all now, she understood that it had all been rolling faster and faster. It had started with a dirty nose, a fat rat, and an insufferable know-it-all. 

“You saved me from a troll.”

“I called you a nightmare.”

“I am a nightmare,” before he could protest she added, “but I’m working on it.”

He laughed despite himself, and she realized just how much she had missed his laughter-just how much she wanted a future full of that sound. They were heading toward the end, she could feel it. It was like reading a good book, you see how few pages are left. And you want to know so desperately how it ends, so you read faster and faster. But then you think, once I know, it’s over, so you slow down and try to soak in each word, to make it last as long as possible. 

For all those years doubt had been the barrier she feared to cross. So now that it wasn’t doubt that restrained her, what was it? She didn’t know if there was a word for it exactly, but kissing him now would feel like cheating. Like skipping to the last page of that book and ruining the ending. 

“Well, at least you’re not a ‘complete arse’” 

They were back on safe, familiar ground. She knew she could only push him so far; he wasn’t ready to see himself as she did, but in all fairness she could say the same of herself. Maybe for now it was enough that they could see the best in one another.

“Complete was probably a bit of an exaggeration,” she held up her thumb and index finger, making the tiniest gap possible. 

“Good to know your sass is still securely in place.”

“Learned from the best.” 

“The best, huh?”

She nodded, adding a wink and a smile before leaning fully into him. The hug was tighter than was entirely good for the soreness in her bruised body, but no amount of pain would have kept her from it. Neither of them bothered to move when Fleur came tentatively in the doorway.

“I am sorry to interrupt, but I ‘ave some shoes for you, Ron. Zey may be a bit too small.”

“I’m sure they’ll be fine,” he turned his head toward his sister in law, but did not let go of Hermione, “Thank you...for everything.”

“No need to mention it, we are family, no?” 

Hermione looked up to see Fleur smiling widely at both of them. There had been a time that she had felt contempt for the woman who had so graciously opened her home to them, but now she felt nothing but gratitude. It was funny how time changed some things. 

“Really Fleur, thank you...I’m not your family, so I can mention it.”

She turned then to leave but threw back a casual, “N'êtes-vous pas?” over her shoulder. 

“Nous devrons attendre et voir,” and even though she understood the language better than she spoke it, her meaning must have been clear because the jingle of Fleur’s laughter could be heard as she went back down stairs. 

[ericsonclan]

Nighttime Violets

Summary: Louis visits Violet before they both head to bed and they talk about the past, what to remember, and how to move on.

Read on A03:

Violet was about to head to bed when she heard a familiar rat-a-tat-tat at her door. Louis’ special knock. Somewhat reluctantly, Violet shuffled to the door and cracked it open. Louis grinned at her with an apologetic smile.

“Sorry for the late-night house call. I brought a peace offering to make up for the timing,” He raised a wrinkled bag that Violet was sure contained the decade-old pretzels he still insisted were a special treat.

Violet rolled her eyes, but opened the door wider and stepped back. “Come on in,”

“Thanks!” Louis strode into the room and promptly plopped himself on top of her desk. Looking around the room, he took in the familiar decorations that Violet had kept up for years: her button making machine and the few buttons she kept in her personal collection, the faded glow-in-the-dark stars that they had moved from her ceiling to her bedside wall after the accident, her worn-out vest tossed carelessly across the chair. He absentmindedly kicked his legs back and forth, whistling to himself. Violet stood across from him, arms crossed, waiting for him to speak. Louis noticed her stance and stopped mid-note. “I suppose you’re wondering why I’m visiting tonight,”

“Duh,”

“Well, now that our newest member has been with us for a few months, I wanted to see how you were feeling,”

Of fucking course.

“Get out,”

“Whaaat?”

“I said out,” Violet walked over to her dresser where her hunting knife lay.

“OK! OK!” Louis exclaimed, raising his hands in surrender. “God, I wasn’t thinking you’d react this harshly! And after I intentionally came in the dead of night so no one would hear us gossiping!” Though the sight of Violet’s knife was certainly pressing, he suddenly found himself looking beyond it to something else that lay on the dresser. “Wait a second. Is that… a violet?”

“What? No! Get out!” Violet shouted, advancing threateningly with the knife.

“Oh my god, it is, isn’t it?” Louis leapt off the desk onto the extra bunk bed, wriggling across the mattress to get a better look at the flower. “Potted and everything!” He turned to wiggle his eyebrows at Violet. “I bet I would only need one guess as to who gave you this,”

“Be quiet!” Violet hissed, shooting a worried glance toward the door.

“Does the name of the gift giver perhaps start with a P?”

“You know it does,” Violet sullenly took a seat on her bed.

“How long ago did this happen?”

“A few days. She went to practice fishing with Clementine and when they came back she gave it to me. Said she found it near the stream,”

“It’s potted,”

Violet shrugged noncommittally. “Guess she found it by the greenhouse,”

“Holy shit, Violet. Do you know what this means?”

“Don’t be weird about this,”

“She’s totally into you! I was right all along!” Louis leapt up from the bed, doing a little happy dance. “I can’t believe this! This is way better than I hoped to find!”

“If you breathe a word of this to anyone, I will end you,”

“Well, Clementine must know already, right? Considering that Prisha was with her when she got the flower,”

“Louis,”

“Ok, fine! I won’t talk about it with anyone, not even Clementine!” Louis looked over at the potted flower again, putting a hand up to his mouth to cover his smile. “I just can’t believe this is actually happening. Have you told her yet?”

“Told her what?”

“Violet – c’mon! It doesn’t take a genius to notice the way you look at her. And she brought you a flower, your namesake flower! You can’t say that’s not a sign that she feels the same way,”

“I can say whatever I fucking want,” Violet pulled her blanket from where it had lain bunched up along the side of her bed. She smoothed the blanket out across the mattress, a clear signal that she was going to bed.

“Are you waiting for her to make the first move?”

“I’m not waiting for anything!”

“’Cause I know you get shy when it comes to stuff like this. Like that time when Minnie-”

Violet slammed her hands down on the bedframe, causing a huge clang. Louis flinched. “Don’t,”

“I’m sorry. I just got caught up in the excitement and it slipped out.”

“… I know,”

The room was silent as Louis looked for the right words to say next. There weren’t any. Looking at her bedroom walls, he saw some of Tenn’s old drawings lining the walls, ones he had given to Violet over the years. A crayon drawing of Violet made several years ago smiled at him from the top of the wall. Various depictions of wildlife and the nature around Ericson could be found amongst the colored pages. 

There were some pieces missing though, ones that Louis remembered being displayed proudly just a few years ago. Pictures of Minnie and Sophie. Group drawings with Violet in the middle. Memories of the times before the twins had been lost. Before Minnie had been found again, only to turn her weapon against them and try to kill them herself.

Louis looked over at Violet. She had her arms wrapped around herself, knees pulled tight against her chest. Her face lay against them, turned away from him. He prayed he hadn’t made her cry.

“Violet?”

He heard nothing in response.

“Promise you won’t kill me if I say what’s on my mind?”

More silence.

He would have to take that as a yes. Taking a deep breath, Louis decided to go for it. “Prisha’s not Minnie. What happened on the boat and on the bridge, it won’t happen again,”

She didn’t move. Louis wasn’t sure what to do. Then a soft, shaky sniffle emerged from Violet’s still form. Louis immediately took a seat beside her on the bed, taking her in his arms and making soft shushing sounds.

“Shit, Vi, I’m sorry. I went too far. Shh, shh, it’s gonna be okay. I won’t say anything else, I swear,”

“Fuck you, Louis,” Violet mumbled against his chest, taking a long, snotty inhale. “I was doing alright today,”

“I’m so, so sorry. I shouldn’t have pushed you,”

Violet pushed herself up to lean against the back wall, rubbing tears out of her permanently bleary eyes. She couldn’t see shit when she was crying.

Louis was still holding onto her hand, gently running his thumb against her palm in apology. He just said sorry for pushing her, but he wasn’t going to leave till she opened up, was he? Asshole.

“What happened that night on the boat changed everything,”

Louis was surprisingly silent. He must be waiting for more.

“It changed what I thought I’d lost. Then I lost it all again. But it was worse than before. I didn’t used to think that was possible. After that, after losing Tenn…. For a while I didn’t think I could come back. Like what was the point anymore in living in this shithole world with these useless eyes and everybody gone-”

She could feel Louis’ grip tighten on her hand.

“… But not everybody was gone. You were still here. And Clem. And Ruby. And AJ and…. You guys didn’t give up on me, even when I had nothing to give. It took so, so long to just feel anything at all again. To care at all. To still try. But I got there. When Prisha came…” Violet’s spare hand tangled in her blanket, clasping and unclasping it. “It felt different again. Not bad, but… I can’t deal with it. Whatever this is, I don’t want it,”

“Do you really mean that?” Louis whispered. “It’s OK to be scared. Hell, I’m sure Prisha knows plenty about that too. She wouldn’t hold it against you if you were nervous,”

Violet shook her head. “Don’t do this. Don’t act like you know what this is or what she’s thinking. It can’t be true,”

“What can’t be true? That she likes you?”

“Louis, have you seen me lately?” Violet turned to look him dead-on. Even this close, she could barely make out the freckles that covered her friend’s face. “Don’t act like this looks good,”

“Violet-”

“No. Don’t brush this off like it’s not a big fucking deal,”

Louis sighed. He let go of her hand and leaned back to take a place against the wall. “You know, after Clem lost her leg, I would catch her flinch sometimes when I touched her. Not super obviously, and not all the time. She had her good and her bad days, just like you. When I eventually got the nerve up to ask her about it, she just looked down at where her leg used to be. Then she started crying.” 

Louis shook his head, eyes downcast. “I couldn’t believe it. I couldn’t see how she thought that it was a big deal – not from a survival standpoint of course – but for me. I told her again and again that I didn’t care at all, that she was still the badass who I’d fallen for the second she walked into my life.

But it wasn’t enough for Clem. That conversation didn’t change things. It took me a while to realize that it wasn’t really about what I thought or how I saw her – it was how she saw herself. To me, she was just as beautiful as ever, but for Clementine… I think it took her a long time to learn to see herself again, her real self,” 

Louis turned to look at Violet. “Now, I’m not saying that what I think I see between you and Prisha is the real deal, but whether it is or not, I don’t think your eyes would be a deal-breaker for her. Just like her busted arm doesn’t matter much to you. Even if there aren’t romantic feelings there, I’m sure she sees the same thing I do when she looks at you,” 

He reached out to cup Violet’s face with one hand. “A total badass who’s a complete softie underneath,”

Violet’s lip trembled. Damnit, she was not going to start crying again. Seeing her expression, Louis chuckled and pulled her against him so that her face was once more hidden from him.

“All in all, I would say this has been a quite productive evening,” She could feel him shift on the bed. “Clementine and A.J. are already asleep, so if you like I could definitely spend the night. It’s been ages since you and I have had a proper slumber party,”

Violet mumbled something, but it was lost in the folds of his trenchcoat.

“What was that?”

“I said you have to sleep on the opposite bunk,”

“Oh, but of course! How about we play a game? I bet I can catch more pretzels in my mouth from across the room than you can!”

Violet straightened up, rubbing her eyes dry one last time. “Alright, you’re on,”

“Loser takes pelt tanning duty?”

“Yeah, right. I know it’s already your shift tomorrow,”

“Dang it! Can’t blame a guy for trying. Ok, I’ll start first. Get ready for some expert marksmanship!” Louis pulled away to take his seat on the opposite bunk.

As Violet adjusted to her place on the bed, her eyes caught the potted violet. Gingerly, she picked it up and placed it further from the edge of the dresser and the pretzel warfare that was about to ensue. Something within her felt calmer. Within that calm, perhaps she could finally admit to herself the twinge of excitement that came with Prisha’s gift.

A pretzel hit the side of her face, and she turned to Louis with a frown. “A little warning next time!”

“That was just a warmup!”

Violet rolled her eyes, but her smile remained. Wherever things went, she could be happy with how things were now. She could take a second to live in the moment.

[bifinmediasres]

Kalluzeb drabble No. 2

It was early, almost too early for people to be awake. But Alexsandr was in the training room looking for a sparring partner. Normally, that would be Zeb. But he was in an early morning debrief after returning from his last mission.

If he was honest with himself, that didn't leave Kallus with very many other options. He hadn't made very many friends in his short time with the rebellion. Sometimes he felt like he had more enemies than anything else. Not that he blamed anyone or begrudged them their hard feelings. He knew what he'd been a part of in the Empire. Associations like that weren't easily forgiven or forgotten.

Suddenly a voice broke through his train of thought. "Hey! Kallus!" Ezra shouted across the hangar. The younger man waved, walking over to where Alexsandr stood. "You gonna spar? Where's Zeb?"

"Early meeting." Kallus answered and then after a thought, "You wouldn't want to fill in, just this once? Eh, Jabba?" Kallus grinned as he said the name Bridger had introduced himself with at their first meeting.

"Who me? You sure that's a good idea?" He answered.

"I think I can handle a Padawan with a practice staff", Alexsandr drawled sarcastically.

"No, that's not what I meant," Ezra chuckled, "I know you can handle me. I'm just not keen on getting my butt kicked before breakfast."

Alexsandr barked out a laugh tossing him a staff. "Have a little faith in yourself Jabba."

The younger man nodded smiling, "Yeah ok." He faced Kallus in what he hoped was a ready position and the man advanced. Ezra quickly blocked his thrust, circling around until he found his own opportunity. Then Kallus advanced again. And on it went.

The young Jedi in training wasn't as practiced as the ex Imperial, but he wasn't completely untrained either, Kallus noticed. He had good instincts, even if he was a bit hasty. But Alexandr found him to be good practice for a day like this.

The bout continued. Each man getting in a strike there, a block here. It wasn't what you would call evenly matched but they were well suited in a way. Ezra making a mistake and Alexandr showing him with his next move where his error lay. Ezra would then put the lesson into practice.

This went on for longer than either had initially intended. Both were being to tire. Perhaps that's why when Ezra went to strike his latest blow he found himself swinging harder than he meant to.  Likewise Kallus had been caught off guard and was twisted in such a way that the blow landed just at the small of his back with a heavy thunk.

The momentum carried Ezra in a half circle, turning him away from Kallus who had lost his balance and came to land on his right knee which promptly gave out under the sudden weight. A sort of choked groan escaped as Kallus flattened on the mat.

As soon as both feet were back under him Ezra ran to Kallus, kneeling next to him but hesitating to do more. "Kallus are you alright? Oh Kriff Zeb is going to kill me!"

Managing to draw in a breath, Kallus grinned, "Not before Hera kills you for cursing."

"You're ok? You're ok! Are you threatening to tell on me? Make me think I killed you and now you're threatening to tattle." Ezra rambled only to finish with a smirk, "Frankly I think that's rude."

"Yeah well you owe me for that last shot, he shot back sticking up his hand so Ezra could help him up. He only got his left leg under him though. As soon as he tried to put weight on his right leg it buckled under him and pain shot through his lower back sending him back down to the ground.

This was bad. Not the worst his leg had been obviously. But the worst anyone who wasn't Zeb had ever seen him dealing with. And speaking of Zeb he was probably the best bet for Kallus getting out of here quickly. But that meant Ezra would have to go get him and bring him to the training room.

After making that assessment, he rolled to his back to make eye contact with Ezra who it seemed had been muttering to himself about breaking Zeb's boyfriend. He chuckled at that but stopped when that too caused him pain.

"Ezra," he prompted gruffly, "I need you to focus. You didn't break me." He paused to make sure the Padawan was listening before continuing, "I do need your help however. I need Garazeb. He'll be able to get me up and out of here no problem. Can you go find him for me? Please?"

The word please seemed to snap Ezra out of whatever trance he'd been in. He stood and began to walk away before turning back to the man on the floor and speaking.

"You called me Ezra."

"That's your name."

"You said please."

"I'm polite!"

Ezra turned to leave muttering under his breath, "Oh yeah this is bad. Kriff! Zeb is going to completely kill me. I broke Agent Kallus!"

Ezra found Zeb in the hall outside the meeting room, his debriefing having just ended. He tried to walk not run up to him and tried, major emphasis on tried to sound more calm and put together than he felt.

"Um Ze-Zeb", his voice cracked on the word. He tried again, "Zeb I need your help with something", he started. The Lasat smiled in greeting as he listened. "Something bad happened. I mean I did something bad."

"If you broke something of 'Bine's again I'm not bailing you out this time." Zeb joked but Ezra shook his head, "Did you break Chopper? Not that I care but I want to know how if you did," he laughed.

"No! Zeb...it's Kallus." Ezra hung his head as he spoke hiding his face from Zeb.

"What'd"ya mean?" Zeb's voice grew serious, "Ezra? Spill it." And he did. Briefly explaining what had happened during their morning sparring match and how he'd gotten in a lucky shot. But now it seemed like Kallus was really hurt and he'd been sent to collect Zeb.

"Karabast! He'll be the death of me one day, Zeb muttered running a hand over his face. "Training room you said?" Ezra nodded. "Alright c'mon. Might need yer help too." He jerked his head indicating for Ezra to follow as he stalked away, Ezra behind, leaving apologies in their wake.

In a few minutes they'd reached the training room and Ezra was still apologizing. "He called me Ezra. He NEVER calls me Ezra. This is bad, isn't it?"

Zeb stopped and huffed a laugh. "Actually that's probably his way of telling you he really does like you, not just enjoys messing with you. Especially now that you're seeing him like this. Karabast he hates his leg actin' up. Makes him feel weak I guess."

Suddenly something seemed to dawn on Ezra, "It's happened before?" Zeb nodded. "Does it happen a lot?" Zeb shook his head. "Not terribly. More if he's tired or already hurting. Or when some street rat jedi gets a lucky shot in`` at this Zeb's grin widened. "It always makes him feel vulnerable though I think, so I'm one of the few people who knows. It's a big deal for him to show weakness. Just thought you should know."

Ezra nodded, digesting what he'd heard as they walked into the training room. They found Alexandr, much as Ezra had said. He was still flat on his back on the floor and didn't look like he'd moved much at all. He raised an arm in a wave when he saw them approaching.

"Mornin'", Zeb greeted.

"Garazeb, darling." Kallus smiled. "Jabba" he acknowledged Ezra with a smirk.

"Heard the kid beat ya," Zeb grinned down at Alex.

"Is that the story he's going with?" Kallus winked at Ezra, "We'll have to clear that up, I think. But first, mind giving me a hand," he asked reaching out to Zeb. The Lasat answered by bending down and grabbing the man's hand, pulling his arm across Zeb's shoulder before wrapping an arm around Kallus' waist and beginning to pull him off the floor.

At closer range Zeb could see Alex was sweating despite his sparring with Ezra being over. He was paler than usual as well. "You think you can stand?" he asked.

"Only one way to find out," Kallus responded. Zeb moved slowly attempting to give Alexsandr time to adjust.  Still, the moment he had both legs under him Kallus went even paler, groaning as the pain got exponentially worse. How had he not realized he was in this shape until now? He was usually so much better at keeping track of when his leg was in bad shape.

"Is he going to be sick?" Kallus heard Ezra ask from the other side of Zeb.

"I most certainly am not", he replied, trying to sound indignant but only achieving slurred. Either way he was right though. He didn't get sick. Instead he promptly lost consciousness, slumping with his full weight now supported by Zeb.

"Karabast Sasha!" Zeb growled before recovering and seemingly effortlessly slinging Alexsandr up over one shoulder. Blinking at the younger man he said, "Don't let him know you heard me call him that. Deal?"

"Oh sure! No problem!" Ezra assured him. "Honestly I'm still processing the fact that he used my real name and that apparently means...he likes me?" Ezra trailed off sounding utterly confused.

Zeb huffed a laugh, heading to the training room door, "Well try to get used to it will ya? He needs all the friends he can get. I mean look at 'im." He gestured over his shoulder at the still unconscious Alex. "Being around people who actually care, who want him to take care of himself is basically a foreign concept to him. I for one would like to change that."

Ezra just nodded and studied Kallus' face as he followed a little behind Zeb. "On that note", Zeb's tone changed slightly, "could you sit with him in our bunk while I rustle some food together?"

"I'd be happy to", Ezra answered.

"Good man", Zeb replied. They walked the rest of the way back to the Ghost in near silence, aside from the few comments from passing pilots about Zeb "bagging the imp" and others asking how he had time for a debrief and a sparring session in one morning. Zeb just smiled and kept walking, throwing, "Wasn't me. It was the kid," over his shoulder. Ezra grinned at that and walked a little taller. He'd take pride in it for as long as Kallus would let him.

A short time later Kallus woke up in the familiar surroundings of the bunk room he shared with Zeb. Only Zeb was nowhere to be found. Instead Kallus found Ezra nodding off in the desk chair beside the bed. He'd been watching over him Kallus realized with a small smile. Relaxing back onto his pillow he began to try to piece together how exactly he'd ended up back on board the Ghost.

There was movement beside him followed by Ezra's excitable, "Kallus! I mean", he continued softer, "Kallus you're awake! Are you in pain? You look like you're in pain. I'll get Zeb", and he got up to presumably find the Lasat in question.

Kallus attempted to stop him by asking where Zeb was. But the attempt came out as a croaky whisper that surprised them both. Ezra seemed to change his mind then. He turned and grabbed a cup of water from the table and handed it to Alex. Alex raised himself to one elbow slowly and drained the cup. Handing it back over he returned to his position on the bed.

"Better?" Ezra asked at which he nodded in answer before trying to speak again. This time his voice came out clearer, if still weaker than he'd prefer.

"Would you be so kind as to fill me in on a few details I seem to be lacking?"

"Sure thing," Ezra returned to his seat, "What do you remember?"

"We sparred." Alex answered. "You...got lucky." He caught Ezra's wince and paused. "It's alright you know. It's not as if you-" he was cut off by Ezra's agitated response.

"No it's not alright! Even if I didn't mean to, I hurt you. Enough to cause your leg to give out. And then when I went and got Zeb and he tried to get you up, you were in so much pain you passed out. And I did that!"

Ezra had stood up at some point during the shouting and now half way between the chair and the bed, head hung low, Kallus thought he might very well sink to the floor. He briefly considered reaching out to make the boy sit on the bed, but he thought better of it.

"Ezra," he began quietly. Ezra flinched and so Kallus flinched. Was using his given name really having such an adverse effect? Possibly but this was not the time for inside jokes so he tried again.

"Ezra, I meant what I said. You got lucky. Yes, you got a solid hit in. Yes...I was hurt." He stopped here to watch how Ezra was reacting to his words. "But it was my fault." Ezra met his gaze. "I'm usually better at knowing when my leg can take a work out. I misjudged today. I'm also slightly more sleep deprived and under fed than strictly healthy." Here he smiled, "I'd appreciate that staying between the two of us if you didn't mind?"

"Not on your life," Zeb's voice came from the doorway.

Zeb's gruff laugh seemed to shake Ezra back to the present. Alex gestured for him to sit on the edge of the bed which he did slowly before speaking, "I understand everything you said. And I guess as long as you're not angry...it's ok?" He finished sounding utterly unsure of himself.

"Wonderful!" Zeb beamed, "Now that you two have kissed and made up, lunchtime." And with that he started arranging the food he'd brought in on the desktop and a tray table he maneuvered to the bedside, all the while Ezra joked about Zeb being the preferred person to kiss Alex. They both heartily agreed.

Ezra switched from the bed back to the chair and Zeb sat down next to Alex to fuss over him profusely, which Alex didn't mind at all to be honest. After they'd spent some time eating, Zeb quietly put a bottle of tablets next to Kallus' plate, pain tabs he realized. He started to protest until he saw both Ezra and Zeb watching to make sure he took them. Rolling his eyes he did as asked. Fixing Ezra with a stare he asked, "So when's our rematch Jabba?"

[loveustarker]

Hopeless

So this really sad lol and a little depressing but I have been a real shit mood so I punished Peter for it (sorry boo) no happy endings😬 Cap is a dick, Pepper is a dick and even though it hurt me Stark is a dick too🤷🏽‍♀️ I kinda don’t know how to tag this cause this isn't really Starker, and I suck at tagging so ya

 Summary: Peter felt like he couldn’t do anything right. Today just proved his theory and he’s never felt so useless in his entire life. Sad!Peter

  😣🕸🌪❌

Peter was having a rough day, like a really rough day. Patrolling today was tough, everything that could go wrong during patrol has gone wrong today. School was no better since he left with a sour attitude because he was sure he failed his English test, and Flash just would not let up with the taunts today. On top of all that he has a last minute Avengers meeting in upstate to go too. He always excited to see everyone, especially Mr.Stark but today he would really rather just go home and crawl in his bed. 

  They also didn’t tell him what the meeting was about. They really don’t have random meetings sprung on them like this. Especially because it’s hard to get a hold of everyone and get them there on time. He didn’t want to seem like he was complaining but he mentally did not feel like dealing with hero stuff today. He’s still just a kid and sometimes he needs a break even though it’s hard to admit it sometimes.

  “Kid, you alright?”

  Happy voice filtered through his tired mind and almost forgot where he was. He gave Happy a small smile, telling him that he’s a little tired is all.

  “Alright.”

  Peter continued to look out the window until he saw the Avengers facility come into view. The closer they got to the building the more his senses are telling him that something was going to happen and it isn’t going to be a good one.

  He told Happy bye before walking through the doors and coming face to face with Pepper, and she did not look happy.

  “Well it’s about time you’ve showed up Peter,” Her tone was clipped and irritated.

  “You were supposed to be here thirty minutes ago, everyone else in the meeting room already.” She ushered him quickly into the elevator with a slight push and didn’t say anything else.

  Meanwhile, Peters mind is swirling, how was it his fault that he got here late. Happy picked him up on time, there wasn’t much traffic and no one told him about any time changes. He started to get this heavy feeling in his chest and it didn’t feel good.

  The doors dinged open and Pepper stepped out quickly before heading down the hallway to the meeting room. He followed quickly behind but before she opened the door she turned back to him, eyes cold.

  “You need to take more responsibility Peter, this is not a game and just because you’re a teenager does not give you an excuse. If Thor can show up from another galaxy on time then you can make it out of Queens on time.” And with that, she pushed the door open and the entire room got quiet when he stepped in.

  “Look who decided to show up.”

  That was Sam

  Peter felt his face go up in flames as everyone and I mean everyone looked at him with a disappointed look, even Mr. Stark. He immediately opened his mouth to apologize and ask if someone changed the time and just forgot to tell him but the steely look that Cap was giving him quickly shut him up.

  “Hey, there Peter just take a seat kid.”

  That was Mr. Stark

  Peter instantly felt the need to cry because he never wanted to see that look of disappointed on Mr. Stark’s face ever again. The ferry incident nearly took him out when Mr.Stark showed up to save the day. But the talk they had afterward was something he never wanted to revisit with the mentor again.

  He shuffled over to the only seat that was available because it clearly was for him, and he was very clearly late. Sitting in between Mr. Stark and Mr.Banner, Cap started to speak again.

  “Now that we have everyone here,” Giving Peter a pointed look that made the boy flush in shame.

  “I know this meeting was last minute but we really need to discuss execution when we go on missions. There has been to much damage to the city and in neighborhoods. We cannot continue  to make mistakes because making mistakes can get someone hurt.”

  Cap was in full leader mode and everyone was paying attention. Peter was trying he really was but he was just so tired and ready to go home. If this meeting was about minimizing damage when on a mission than why is he here? He doesn’t make much of a mess when fighting. If anything he probably causes less of a mess than anyone else on the team.

  Clearly, he was wrong.

  “Peter, you especially, those webs of yours are all over the place. They don’t dissolve and we’ve been getting complaints about your webbing on people’s houses, company buildings, etc.”

   Peter opened his mouth to try to explain that yes his webs are probably in a lot of places but they DO dissolve after an hour. He’s been testing different agents to try and get them to dissolve quicker to avoid stuff like this. Mr. Stark even helped him do it!

  Cap didn’t even give him a chance to explain and continued to roll over him. Saying that just because he is a newly knighted Avenger doesn’t mean he can do whatever he wants. Peter knows that isn’t the case because he does take this seriously, this is something he would never think could happen to him.

  He’s beyond grateful...but lately, it seems that every little thing he does is wrong to everyone.

  “On top of that, you don’t follow protocol at after missions. I believe Tony has talked to you about that and yet you still don’t listen, you gotta do better kid.”

  Mr. Stark did talk to him about protocol.

  “Yeah who gives a flying rats ass about protocol, nobody follows it spiderling, so don’t worry about it.”

  Those were his exact words and Peter remembered asking him if he was serious and Mr. Stark was. He waited for his mentor to speak up about what he said but silence filled the room.

  The urge to cry again was becoming a little stronger.

  He whispered a quiet yes sir before shifting his eyes to the table suddenly feeling like the most insignificant being on the planet right now.

  Cap continued to go on about other things but nobody got called out like he did and that alone had Peter feeling like absolute shit, gum on the bottom of some New Yorkers sneakers. What made it worse was that Mr. Stark didn’t stick up for him once, and he always does but today wasn’t his day at all.

  “Alright, guys that’s all for today.”

  Chairs began to scrape against the floor and everyone got up at the same time. Clearly, everyone was ready to go so at least he wasn’t the only one. He definitely overheard some of the Avengers mumbling under his breath, and he sometimes thinks that a lot of them forget that he has super hearing.  

  “If the kid was here on time we could've been out of here thirty minutes ago.” 

  “You know teenagers don't care about anything but themselves.” 

  “I don’t know why Tony gave him a chance, he doesn’t take this seriously.” 

  The heavy feeling he felt on his chest from earlier came back tenfold. He could already feel the tears gathering in the corner of his eyes. These were his teammates talking about him. People he has looked up to since he was little, and their just disregarding him like this, like he’s nothing. 

   He didn’t realize he was only one still sitting down until a hand was on his shoulder. He discreetly wiped his tears as he rubbed his face with his hand, feigning a tired expression. 

  “You alright their Pete.”

  It was Mr. Stark

  Peter looked up at his mentor and for a split second, he wanted to tell the man how he was really feeling. How today was a shitty day and had to deal with shitty people at school, shitty people on the streets while he patrolled. Only to get picked up to go to a shitty meeting that he was apparently late for, and get shitted ON the entire time. How he felt utterly useless right now, a complete failure and how everyone expects so much of his and how he’s hanging on by a thread sometimes to please everyone.

  But then he remembered how Mr. Stark didn’t come to his rescue and for some reason that sparked a sadness him so deeply that he just smiled.

  “I’m fine, just been a long day.”

  Mr. Stark gave him a warm smile before telling him that Happy is out front ready to take him back home. Peter took a deep breath to get his emotions in check before getting up and heading back down to the lobby.

  He encountered Pepper again as he walked by the receptions desk and tried to give her a smile.

She just turned her back, that icy look never leaving her eyes.

  The urge to cry again was really getting to him.

He continued to the front door.

He gave Happy another small smile as he got into the car. As soon as he sat down his phone rang and May’s name flashed on the phone.

  His heart dropped.

  “Peter where the hell are you?!” Panic clear in her voice but he could also hear the undertones or anger.

  “Ma— “ he started to say but was quickly cut off.

  “You were supposed to be home getting everything ready!” She started, “I told you how important this dinner was for my job Peter, the place is a mess and the food is still in the fridge, nothin is warmed up!”

  Peter completely forgot about May’s dinner with some people from the hospital. They might be offering a leadership position that pays really well, but they just wanted to sit down and talk first. May thought a good dinner in their environment would help things go along really well but she specially told Peter that she needed his help to get things ready.

  “And I know your out doing Spider-Man stuff but I told you, Peter, weeks in advance that I needed you home today for one day. You couldn’t just take one day off for your only family member.”

  He knew May was right, with everything going on, jumping back in forth between Peter Parker and Spider-Man it’s hard to keep track of everything going on around him. He didn’t even know what to say to her because sorry was definitely not going to cut it.

  “I am really disappointed in you Peter.”

  Was the last thing she said before hanging up.

The urge to cry couldn’t be stopped this time.

  Because that was two people in one day that he’s disappointed and he just can’t take it.

  “H...Happy could you put the partition up please.”

It was barely a whisper because he was trying so hard for Happy to not hear his voice crack.

  It looked like the bodyguard was going to say something but took one look at Peters red face and shaking hands that he just did what the boy said.

As soon as it was rolled up, Peter cried.

  Body shaking, nose runny, couldn’t see anything past his tears kind of crying.

   He’s never felt so worthless in his life.

The drive back to Queens always seemed to fly by but today...

  Today felt like a lifetime.

[thecorteztwins]

Hogwarts. Or when Fabian is there, Whoregotwarts

(Hey @esteicy-blog, I included Pietro this time! And Wanda too! I hope I did okay with their personalities; I know what Pietro is like to a degree but I really don’t know much about how Wanda acts.Also, credit to @hexiva for the whole “Magneto was a dark wizard that Xavier put on staff as “Michael Xavier” after defeating him, ala his identity while headmaster to the New Mutants” bit. Thank you for letting me use your AWESOME IDEA, friend!)The Triwizard tournament had come yet again, and this time it was hosted at Hogwarts. For the first time in years, students from the Hogwarts could mingle with visitors from the Durmstrang Institute and the Beauxbatons Academy of Magic. Fabian Cortez, a Spanish student from Beauxbatons, would in particular like to ‘mingle’ with one of the Durmstrang girls, a Balkans beauty named Wanda MaximoffHe had made this abundantly clear since they first passed in the Great Hall when the visitors were first announced to the Hogwarts pupils, and he had been making it clearer every time he saw her, to her demure disgust. It had finally come to a head in the Hogwarts courtyard, where he had last made the mistake of making his lurid advances in view of Wanda’s brother, Pietro, who, it turned out, had a much shorter temper and smaller tolerance for such impropriety than she did. “Leave her alone, you lurid creep!”“She can tell me if she doesn’t appreciate my company, you pernicious twerp.”“She did, she told you quite clearly! Maybe you couldn’t hear her because your rat-tailed head is too far up your own—”“Problem, boys?”It was Professor Michael Xavier, one of the Hogwarts teachers. “I realize you’re not my students,” he continued, “But perhaps you’d like to explain yourselves?”“You’re right, I’m not your student,” Pietro huffed, crossing his arms over his chest.Fabian, on the other hand, did as asked,“It was my fault, Professor. I was trying to talk with this young lady, but I think I made a language mistake, or maybe overstepped some cultural barrier—I know little of Durmstrang ways, I only studied British manners because we were coming to Hogwarts—and this boy came up just…yelling at me. I didn’t understand at first, but I think he thought I was bothering her.”“You were!” Pietro barked, red-faced at how Fabian was…not lying exactly, but painting a very misleading picture.“Why don’t we ask the young lady in question?” said Michael coolly. He was already biased for Fabian, since he was the one who had cooperated and his story seemed plausible, but he supposed getting a neutral third party witness would be most fair.“That would be me, professor,” Wanda stepped forward,“He was bothering me, and I asked him to stop, but…perhaps I was not clear enough.”“You were PLENTY clear,” snarled Pietro, glaring at Fabian. Fabian looked at Professor Xavier expectantly, figuring that the verdict would now fall in his favor…but Michael Xavier was staring past the boys at Wanda. He looked transfixed, and shocked, unbelieving. Wanda shifted nervously under the intensity of his gaze. Why was he staring at her like that?“Professor!” Pietro said sharply, who was wondering the same thing. Would he have to defend his sister even from the teachers now? Well, he was ready, he’d blast anyone who so much as looked at Wanda into pixie dust!“Eh?” Michael Xavier glanced at him, and it seemed like reality returned,“Oh, yes…my apologies children, I…recalled something important. Now what was your problem?”“Make him leave her alone!” Pietro demanded, “Or I will!”“I’m very sorry for the confusion,” said Fabian in a humble, abashed tone, “I’ll apologize to Miss Maximoff immediately. Miss Wanda, I promise that impropriety was not my intent. I hope that we can still be friends—I’d hate for this to be your only impression of me, and of the Beauxbatons school.”“Er, I–” Wanda started, but was cut off by protestations from Pietro over the idea.“Maximoff,” Michael Xavier said to himself, noting how Fabian had addressed her, “Wanda Maximoff.”And with that, he turned and hurried back to the castle in a most urgent manner, leaving the boys behind to bicker. For Michael Xavier was not Michael Xavier. The man Michael Xavier, supposedly the cousin of Headmaster Charles Xavier, did not exist. He was really Erik Magnus, the Dark wizard that Charles Xavier was supposed to have defeated and killed years ago. In truth, Xavier had let him live, convinced him to give his way a try, and as a gesture of his trust, given him this new life, this position as a teacher.But before he had been Erik Magnus, Michael Xavier had been someone else as well. A boy named Max Eisenhardt. A boy who had grown up to marry a woman called Magda.A woman who had been nigh-identical to this “Wanda Maximoff”. He must find out who she was, where she came from—who her parents were. And no schoolboy squabble was about to distract him. ***“There you are, swine. I was beginning to think you wouldn’t show.”It was midnight, and Pietro had been waiting at the mouth of the enchanted maze for…well, for all of five minutes, actually. Fabian was right on time. In fact, he’d come early, to get a little something done first before meeting Pietro. But Fabian had indeed considered not coming. The fact that this duel was a secret meant he wouldn’t lose face in front of his peers if he chickened out…and he didn’t want to get caught after so narrowly avoiding trouble the last time. He doubted he’d get the same leniency that Professor Michael Xavier had shown him. But then he’d had an idea that he just couldn’t resist…“It’d have been better for you if I didn’t,” he replied, “Oh, hello there Wanda, here to cheer me on? Or does Pietro need his sister to for backup?”“I am TRYING to tell my brother what a stupid, stupid idea this is. I was hoping YOU would at least be smart enough to realize that!”“And stand up a date? I never do that, Wanda. Maybe I’ll be kind enough to show you that—after I teach your brother a lesson! Flipendo!”Fabian had drawn his wand by surprise, and knocked Pietro on his ass with the Knockback Jinx.“You cheater!” Wanda yelled, “No one said go yet!”“No rules out here, Maximoff!” Fabian replied, directing this at them both as he readied his wand again, “Consider it a warning shot!”Pietro jumped to his feet, drawing his own wand as he did and yelling the incantation for a Stinging Hex. It hit Fabian full in his face mid-smirk, and he screamed and clawed at his own skin in pain. It didn’t slow him down though; it merely made him angry. No more playing!“Expulso!” Fabian’s wand blasted the blue light of the exploding charm in Pietro’s direction, but Fabian’s current poor vision meant his aim was off, and Pietro was able to Pietro, pulling Wanda with him. All the magic hit was the shrubbery, which burst into shredded leaves. Still, that alone showed the twins that Cortez clearly meant business.“Wanda, get out of here, he’s mad!” Pietro urged, suddenly realizing how serious the situation could be.“That’s why I’m staying with you, you idiot!” she retorted, drawing her own wand. “How touching,” Fabian mocked, and fired another Exploding Charm, this time on their opposite side, causing the pair to jump again, this time in the other direction. Pietro began to run at him with his wand drawn, but another Flipendo from Fabian knocked him back, this time into the entrance of the maze. Wanda ran after him, but not before pointing her own wand at Fabian and shouting,“Stupefy!”It worked splendidly, with Fabian reeling back and then falling to the ground unconscious. Wanda, meanwhile, went into the maze in search of her brother. Fabian’s Exploding Curse had cleared quite a lot of the hedges, which had allowed him to knock Pietro exceptionally far back inside, considering. “Pietro?” Wanda called nervously when she did not immediately see him, “Pietro, where are—”“Shhhh,” said a voice from her feet, and she looked down to see Pietro crouching under a bush, finger to his lips, and his opposite hand gesturing rapidly for her to come join him.“Pietro, what are—aaaAAAAH!”Charging right for her was what Pietro had been hiding from—a manticore, a massive beast with a leonine body, gigantic curled scorpion tail, and an unnervingly human-like face full of dagger-sharp teeth. It had been meant to stay tethered there in the maze, until it would be unleashed during the Third Task for the Triwizard Champions to face when they went inside to search for the Triwizard Cup.But, judging by the severed chain trailing from its collar, someone had let it loose tonight…And it was going to do exactly what that ‘someone’ had planned for it to do—at least, til someone shouted “IMPEDIMENTA!” and stopped the beast in its tracks.Wanda turned to see the face of her savior—Professor Michael Xavier.“Miss Maximoff,” he said calmly, stepping towards her, wand in one hand, shirt collar of the still-unconscious Fabian in the other as he dragged the boy behind him,“I believe you and I, along with your brother, have some very important matters to discuss. Family matters, in fact.”

[1800areyouslapping]

Make sure to read the tags, plz. 

Love and caring for you is an elbow in the gut. A firm, harsh hand on the back of your neck, setting you up right after you’ve doubled over. It’s a sharp whistle-command that sends an electric shot of obedience through your chest every, single, time. Your ear prickling up at the sound, like the trained mutt that you are. Caring feels like a smack on the back of the head so hard, your head spins, vision wavers, and your ears flood with the fast lub-dubs of your own heartbeat. Caring is the heavy blanket; the unwavering, watchful eye of your Commander; your Lord and Savior Gabriel Reyes.

Passion feels like his hand grazing up and down your spine as you ride your brother. The blade at the nape of your neck. His breath in your ear, telling each of his dogs how good they are. All per his direct order. It feels like the grip of your brother’s hands on your hips. The look in Jesse’s eyes that says “I wouldn’t wanna be here with anyone else,” as you're both down on hands and knees, cleaning Reyes’ boots with your tounges.

You used to think your brother was the ugliest mother fucker alive. But now, time and time again, you watch him in the most demeaning situations, thinking you’ve never seen someone look more desirable. Jesse used to be of the same mind.

“Y’all know your twins right?” An echo of a voice from a long, long time ago.

Jesse, back when he was real young and ornery, “That don’t mean she don’t look like a rat’s ass, carryin’ a rat’s nest around on her head.”

Even then, before Gabriel's influence, a swift punch to the gut meant, ‘I love you.’ You buried your fist into Jesse’s side with a little grin on your face, and a quip. “At least I don’t carry a dirty mop around on my face. Wash the floor with that thing you call a beard and it’d get dirtier.”

The commander had worked your perspective of each other, and of him, like a sculpture. If you didn’t know any better you could swear he literally molded you both into more desirable versions of yourselves. Changed every last thing about you and your brother. Removed the shared blood from your veins… surely that must be the only way…

But that’s not true. Reyes never once let either of you forget who you are to each other. And you’ve still got the same rat’s nest atop your head. A mass of hair that your brother can’t get enough of smelling. Of burying his face into. Loves entangling his fingers into your locks whenever you’re taking his cock into your mouth; per Reyes’ order. Often you don’t care about how good it is for your brother. Rather, your gaze flits to Papi who sits back and watches as he always does. Wondering if your technic is pleasing him.  

“That’s one of your best looks, nena.” Words that never fail to bait back the momentary waves of nausea that come around every so often. The cruel nagging sensations that stand to remind you just who’s dick your lips are wrapped around.

Never in your life have you wanted to be a ‘good girl’. You never could give a shit about it. Deadlock would have been sure death for a ‘good girl’. But when it comes from a man, who to you, seems closer to God than mortal the sound of it always tugs at your strings. Works your limbs, emotions, and actions like a living puppet.

You and Jesse were born together. Lost your parents together. Got into Deadlock together. Have gotten into endless amounts of shit together. Got arrested, and eventually taken in by Commander Gabriel Reyes, together. As far as you’re concerned the Commander saved your lives; even if at the time you couldn’t have been more ungrateful for the life intervention.

They had made the mistake of separating you from your brother, and for days. Keeping you in separate holding rooms. Where the both of you had become hostel vipers. Snapping and spitting at any agent who tried to come and question you. “Where the fuck is my sister/brother?!”

That was until, Commander Gabriel Reyes. He had walked into your holding cell. Carrying all the weight of a man with command and power. An imposing angel, wearing all black, and a beanie. Had demanded, “You better not fuckin’ bite me.” Before unlocking your cuffs, and showing you the open doorway.

That was the first time he ever touched you. Curled his fingers around your arm. Yanked you out of the chair and escorted you right to your brother. Who still had blood on his lip and brow from the days past. All crusted and dark. Purple and yellow bruises framing the corner of his mouth and the swell of his brow bone.

Immediately you started using the hem of your shirt and your own spit to try and clean him up. Albeit roughly you had good intentions. If Jesse hadn’t been so happy to see you he would have swatted you away and said, “Quit it, ya fuckin’ Mother Hen.”

Instead, he was happy to have your harsh, unsanitary cleanup. Leaned into the only person who could ever make him feel like he’s right at home anywhere. Even in a small windowless holding cell, with his wrists locked painfully tight to the desk.

Reyes hit the table, gave both you and Jesse a sudden start. “Knock it off!“ He held up his hand up with an open palm. “A couple of fuckin’ animals. I’ll get you a washcloth. Five minutes. Behave, while I’m gone.”

Reyes would never have to give such blatant commands now. A shrill whistle would do the trick. He had left you and Jesse to talk shit. To try to work up a plan to escape as soon as possible; also something that would never happen now. After all, what escape is there for two outlaws housed in the only sanctuary that would take you. With the only holy minister who would ever demand it, sanctuary.

Then the Commander had come back with bottles of water, a rag, and food; real food. It had been so very long since the last time you and your brother had had a full plate of anything. And the last time you were handed a full plate of food for nothing, you were six years old, and it had come from the hands of your mother. From the moment your parents died, full plates had to be earned and were not simply given. Though that doesn't change. Everything you receive is earned these days.

The both of you had stared at the plates for so long that Reyes felt the need to question, “You two ingrates ever seen food before?”

Jesse scowled at him, anger boiled in his chest. He’d learned not to trust a single person, not to take any act of kindness at face value. Smart, wise; for a big gullible idiot.

“What do you want?”

“For the two of you to cooperate,” Reyes stated as he leaned forward and freed Jesse’s wrists, “and eat.”

While the plates of food had been kind, the questioning was not. And somehow that had made the food easier to swallow. Knowing that while the food that you were putting into your mouths was real, that the Commander wasn’t necessarily doing you any favors; he wasn’t being… false. He didn’t sit at the other end of the desk with a concocted smile or sugared words.

Reyes made sure it was crystal clear that he held your fates in his hands. Knew every little thing there was to know about your pasts. Right down to, and including, the dates and times you were both born. “So that technically makes you the younger one,” Reyes said, referring to you.

“Yeah, I know.” Only the slightest tinge of attitude, as you nudged Jesse. “He don’t ever let me forget it… Sir.” More than a tinge of attitude in the last word.

Strike Commander Morrison had thought it would be impossible to tame two pissed off snakes, but Reyes had done it. With calm words of authority and a long discussion of what would be expected from the two of you; you were eventually signed up for Blackwatch.

Even against all of the protest, Morrison had had against it. Something you had inadvertently learned about later on down the line. You both had been a baby hair away from being thrown in jail for the rest of your lives. Never to see each other again. You owe the commander, everything.

A year later and you can hardly remember a time when you dared to be so defiant, really defiant. Now defiance comes from a sick place of want. From a place that warms your insides, and makes your mouth salivate. When you crave your Papi’s harsh affections, like a bitch in heat.

Standing in the middle of Reyes' private training room, you’ve got to piss like a racehorse. He's been making you and your brother hold it all damn day long. For no other reason than he said so, and that's good enough. So you better listen and stop asking when.

You’ve been told to warm up using each other, while Reyes standing back and watches the two of your wrestle and roll around on the mat. Thinking to himself that the two of you never fail to be annoyingly gentle with each other, a quirk he hasn’t quite been able to bleed out of your systems yet.  

All of a sudden Jesse throws a sloppy elbow and it collides with your nose. Putting an abrupt stop to your timid quarrel. Reyes sighs, dissatisfied. That would have been better if Jesse had landed it with purpose, and not on complete accident. And if the abrupt halt wasn't coming from the kid's the need to apologize to his sister.

You’re not having any of his pokes, prods, or apologies. Shoving him away with two firm open palms on his chest. Then you wipe your nose and show your clean hand to him. “Ain’t even made me bleed,” you say with an air of confidence and cockiness. Reyes will have to amend that.

Reyes pushes up off the wall. His advancing putting a stop to each of your movements. The both of you standing still as trees with deep reaching roots in the ground.

As he takes his rightful place between the two of you Reyes cracks on elbow against your face. With every bit of the intention and purpose he wants to see from Jesse, and even more.

Flying back you hit the floor like a bag of bricks. Cover your face with your hands and slam your foot down against the floor several times. Working through the pain, sucking in sharp breaths of air.

“Now you are.” He squats down next to your writhing form. Says a-matter-of-factly, “That’s what a mutt gets for being cocky.”

Reyes waits ‘til you look him in the eye. When you do he whistles, and nods towards the wall. Git. Acknowledges your seat down on the floor, leaning against the wall with a nod of approval. Sit, stay, good dog.

Even for all of the spitfire that your brother has he’s never a match for Gabriel. Never will be. Reyes doesn’t train like most. Doesn’t wait. Isn’t patient. He comes at you fast, and he comes at you relentlessly hard. Giving brief suggestions, but generally expecting you to figure it out.

“Use your fuckin’ brain. Common sense says if I’m throwing a punch at your face then you should be putting up your arms to block.” When the punch lands across Jesse’s jaw and he stumbles to the floor Gabriel states, “Or you get hit. Simple.”

Jesse tries to get up, but the flat of Reyes’ boot swiftly meeting his hip knocks him over onto his back. Jesse’s teeth bare, a little whimper as he tries again to get back up. But again, Reyes does not allow it. Jesse simply isn’t moving fast enough to gain any leeway. His brain too clouded by the immense pressure in his belly. Getting tossed around on the mat certainly ain’t helping one bit.

Reyes drops his knee onto Jesse’s gut. Cruelly leans into it, making Jesse whimper pathetically loud. “Aw– for fuck’s sake, Dad.”

Gabriel reaches out and snatches up Jess’s jaw. “Do something about it, Kid.”

Jesse tries and tries. Reyes slamming him down like a rag doll. Landing punches and elbows into his belly. When Reyes finally gets what he’s working after, it’s not from any of the hits that he thought would warrant it. Rather a thick arm wrapped around the boy’s neck so tight that darkness looms in his vision and he loses control of his bladder.

Gabriel lets him drop to the ground with a thud. Choking on a breath, sputtering through tears. Actual tears, the kid is crying. The light grey fabric of McCree’s sweats, growing darker and wetter with every shake of his shoulders. The boy not finding the where-with-all to stop the stream of piss.

Gabe’s dick twitches at the sight. Swells, taking over the forefront of his brain. Growing thicker and longer at the live picture of his boy bent over, with a wet face and a wet crotch. Humiliated, sobbing like a baby. That’s the ticket.

Reyes presses the toe of his boot into Jesse’s crotch. Presses ‘til the boy whines and tries wriggling away. “Filthy mutt.”

Gabriel is taken aback for a moment. Is nearly startled when suddenly you are at your brother’s side. Leaving your place without being told to come? Bad girl.

Petting your brother’s sweat laced hair you try and comfort him. Tug on his arm, encouraging him to try and sit back up. “Come on Jesse it ain’t that big’a deal, stop cryin’.”

Before you have the chance to get him back up on his knees. Reyes plants a foot on his ass and shoves him forward. “You’re done, Kid. Get off the mat.” Jesse never does get back on his feet. Instead crawls to the wall and sulks there.

Then he looks to you. You now have his undivided attention. His girl who has already earned punishment from a trivial act of defiance, but defiance none the less. But first, he’s still set out to bring you to the breaking point. Just like he did your brother. The more reasons for punishment, the better.

“Up,” Reyes says to you. Still sporting smudged blood underneath your nose. Neither of you ever seem to learn that he won’t be giving any heads up. You’re never ready, never on your toes. Reyes feigns as if he’s walking towards the middle of the mat. Only to whip around and knock an elbow into your face again. Sweeps your legs out from under you with his foot.  

Gabe yanks you back up onto your feet. Ready to knock you right back down. Already you seem to be far more determined than your brother today. Able to conjure up more mental willpower. Successfully able to block out the grand distraction in your bladder. All of the warmth barely able to slosh around with how bursting you are. Reyes made sure to keep each of his kids sufficiently hydrated today.

You’re too small and don’t have enough momentum to take him to the ground. So you leap up, locking your legs around his waist. Manage to drive an elbow down between his neck and shoulder. Barely a dull throb for him. You’re like a child trying to punch their parent’s leg during a temper tantrum.

That gives Reyes a good chuckle. Grabs you by your waist and body slams you down onto the ground. Knocking the wind from your lungs. Gabe rears back to get a good look at you as you struggle. Bright red blood pouring out of your nose. Running down over your lips. Staining your bared teeth. You’re pissed, that’s clear. Good.

He tries to throw a punch at your jaw. It’s exposed, so you deserve it. Your arms flying up to take the brunt. His fist colliding with the bone in your forearm. You scream, clutching your arm to your chest. Wriggling and writhing underneath him trying to get away. Doing nothing but making his dick harder.

Reyes does the same routine with you that he did with Jesse. Except if you’re going to act tough, like you can do a damn thing, then he’s going to be especially harsh on you. Tossing you around, choking you out. Landing punches and pinning you down with his knee. Round about now was the time Jesse had broken down, but you’re being so fucking stubborn today.

He knocks you down again. Before you’re able to get back up off the floor, Gabe kicks you in the gut. Nothing. He rears his leg back and does it again, and again. Each kick warranting a loud wail of pain.

Until finally you piss yourself. Not even aware that it’s happening. Too focused on the throbbing in your belly to notice the wetness flowing from your body. That’s a shame because you don’t seem to give a shit about it like Jesse did. How unsatisfying. All that work for nothing.

Gabe waits for a moment. Bides his time. Watches your legs shake, and the tears roll down your temples. Waiting to see if Jesse is going to assume that he can come and comfort his sibling like you did. Whether he does or does not, will determine how the next series of events will go down. His girl will give him satisfaction. And all that blood is giving him ideas and mental pictures.

Whether him getting it will be especially rough for just you, or the both of you; is up to the kid still sniffling against the wall and Jesse isn’t even aware of it. Though neither of you has learned to be aware of when Gabe is actually giving you a choice. When he’s testing you.  

Jesse doesn’t budge. Reyes throws his head back and sighs. Pleased and yet not. Looks back first at the mutt in the same exact spot. Not moving a muscle. No matter how spring loaded his body looks.

Reyes takes a gander at all of the glisten. The wet stains soaking and drying on the mat. Shaking his head back and forth, he sniffs the air. Turns up his lip and nose. “I know I trained you better than this.”

For the first time during this whole “training session” you look at him with true hurt in your eyes. After all of the harsh hits. Even after the humiliation, he inflicted on your brother. All it takes it takes is a little verbal disapproval to get your gears working to figure out what you have to do to earn it back.

Gabriel dips down, cups your face. Runs his thumb along the space between your nose and your upper lip, collecting fresh blood. Circles it back around to press it between your lips. Making you suckle on your own copper. Like a puppy at their mother’s teat, you whimper.

Reyes whistles, come. McCree launches himself up off the floor. Takes his place next to Gabriel, awaiting orders. Gabe straightens up. Places a strong hand on the back of Jesse’s neck. Grins at how flustered his boy becomes. Now that never fails to be satisfying. Seeing his influence change every nuance of the kid’s face. Instantly half-lidded, mouth agape with heavy breath.

Gabe roughly undoes the kid’s pants. Spits into his palm and starts stroking his dick. Watching him as his bloodstained teeth are bared. Sure, Jesse didn’t come out looking quite as battered as you do right now, but he didn’t come away unscathed. Bruises coming to fruition around each of his eyes. Neck still ruddy and swollen. Later Reyes will be inspecting the ones that show up elsewhere. Really take time to admire all his hard work. For now…

“Look at your sister,” Reyes demands. Jesse does, tearing his attention away from Gabriel’s face. Length hard, full of blood, and heat in his palm. He keeps stroking him while working his magic. “She looks really good like this. All of that blood on her face,” then he looks to you, “Red’s a good color on you.”

As expected, Jesse agrees. “It is.”

“Get behind her, Boy. Down on the floor.”

McCree seemingly already knows what Reyes wants. Slides right into autopilot. Gets behind you and helps you get up on your knees. Looks to Reyes to make sure he’s doing what he wants as his hand's fumble around with the strings of your sweatpants. Tugs them down just enough. Slides his knees onto either side of your own, then sits back.

You, who is having an off day, has yet to slide into autopilot yet. Need to be told, “Sit.”

Placing your hands on Jesse’s knees for leverage you lower yourself down onto your brother’s erect length. Keep going ’til you feel the cold metal of his belt and zipper against your cheeks. Fully-seated, stuffed up with your kin. Awaiting the instructions of the only man who’s ever come close to being a father to you and your brother.

The commander palming the bulge in his pants as he slowly undoes his own belt. A belt that makes your eye twitch, and your stomach lurch. A belt that you know intimately. Just the sight of it as it’s slinked out of the belt loops, the long-familiar hiss of it, get’s your adrenaline pumping.

Gabriel side eyes Jesse has he loops it around your neck. “Fuck her, Kid.”

Jesse’s head falls between your shoulder blades, another familiar feeling. His hands hooking in between your thighs. Grips as he starts to buck up into you. Reyes puts the end of his belt through the buckle. Gives it one good tug. Allowing the buckle enough momentum to slide down the length of the leather, ’til the metal meets the base of your neck. Wraps the belt around his fist several times, ’til it’s just beginning to dig into your larynx.    

Gabe widens his stance. Both lowering himself and planting his feet just on either side of Jesse’s knees. With a few flicks of his free wrist, his cock is in your face and you know just what you need to do. Your jaw hurts, your nose is throbbing. But you open up, allowing for Reyes to jam his length into your mouth. Relentlessly leaning in. Uncaring about the violent gag that makes your whole body heave.

Reyes fucks your mouth. His length sliding in and out of your blood-stained face, looking far better than the mental picture he had earlier. He glows with pride, knowing that no matter the fantasy he can use either of his twins to help him fulfill it. Two of his own personal puppets. With a little finesse, he can get either of you to do whatever he wants.

The belt becomes tighter and tighter around your neck with every single thrust. Saliva seeping out of the corners of your mouth. Your brother huffing and puffing against your back. His strokes barely pulling back, before they are slamming back into you. New tears streaming down your face every time Gabe’s pelvis meets your abused nose.

Jesse’s cock expands inside of you. The snaps of his hips stilling as his grip on the inside of your thighs tightens. “Ah, damn, Moonshine— oh, shit— can I cum, Dad?”

“No. This isn’t for your benefit.”

Jesse lets out a long pained groan. Stopping completely to focus on bringing himself back from the brink.

Reyes wraps the leather around his fist again. Between his cock, and the metal you can’t breathe anymore. A few moments later, just as your about to pass out. Hot, choking ropes of seed spurt down your throat.

The leather lets up, and so does your Papi. Pulling his cock out of your mouth before he’s done cumming. You’re too focused on breathing and swallowing. Too focused to notice or care about the spurts of seed that hit your cheek. Roll down, collecting dried up blood. Dripping down onto the already soiled up mat.

“Jesse, your sister’s face is filthy. Clean it.”

Jesse huffs, still struggling to keep pumping into you without busting. “Okay, okay.”

Leaning back to make it easier on him, you turn your head to the side. Jesse feverishly licks the cum, blood, and saliva from your face. Lapping it all up with short and quick drags of his tongue. Laps turning into kisses as he cleans off your lips.

His nose brushes against your own causing you to wince. He pecs your lips one more time whispering, “Sorry, Sugar, sorry… sorry.”  

It was only supposed to be one more pec. But it turns into another one. “S’okay Jesse.” And another one, and another one. Until you both become a little lost in kissing and fucking. Forgetting for a moment who exactly you’re fucking for. That is, until a shrill whistle breaks through your sweet little moment, stop, and you both come to an abrupt halt.

The both of you look up at Gabriel, ears prickled. Waiting to hear some praise. He gives it to you. Each getting an individual “good girl” and “good boy.” You both might as well be sitting on hands and knees with your tongues lolling out of your mouths. What’s next Master? What trick do you want us to perform next?

By now you have an inkling of what comes next. You’ll be expected to clean up your messes. Then he’ll take time tending to your injuries. And you’ll cherish every gentle press of the ice. All the time he’ll spend cleaning you and your brother up. Heeding every hint he gives that says, when people ask, and they will, you and your brother did this to eachother. Tsk, tsk; the quarrels of siblings. What is he going to do with the two of you? 

[deborahdeshoftim5779]

The Marvel of Trelsi (Part XIV)

The above montage is awesome! 

We continue with our discussion of Trelsi today, and for the last two posts, I’ve been examining Kelsi’s romantic interests as demonstrated through her songs and through her canonical relationship with Jason Cross. As you can see, there is a massive gulf between the two. I’m currently writing  notes for another Trelsi fic called “Illusions and Reality”, which I think is a great summary of the difference between Kelsi’s imagination and the truth of her situation. As she graduates from high school, the audience can only wonder about how she has evolved in her romantic viewpoints. Since the movies didn’t see fit to give us more information about her career pursuits, or her life in college, I can only speculate about these things. It’s very important to distinguish between reasonable speculation and headcanons that I devised for my Trelsi fics. One of the reasons for this is that I am not yet decided on certain things, like, for example, whether Kelsi became resentful of Martha after breaking up with Jason, or even who broke up with who. That stumped me when writing my Trelsi one-shot, Offstage, which you can find here. 

You may notice that I haven’t discussed Troy and his romantic expectations, focusing more on the problems in his relationship. This will come a little later when explaining the high compatibility of Troy and Kelsi as a romantic couple. 

Like I’ve said before, I’m adding questions to my original list as new angles occur to me. The first question I want to add and discuss today is:

Question: Why does Kelsi idealize Troyella, given the problems discussed? 

One of the things that puzzles and frustrates me about Kelsi, who seems sage and capable of judging character, is why she latches onto Troyella with such blind fervour. This is based on the way that Troy and Gabriella perform her songs, which demonstrates that, at the very least, their voices blend well together and bring out the message that she wants. Now, I would argue that this is mainly due to Troy, given that it is he who draws on her for confidence during every major performance, and not Gabriella. But Kelsi quite clearly believes that since Troy and Gabriella have proved their ability to perform her songs, then they deserve the leads in all her musical ideas. During HSM II, she immediately tells the two that they “can sing the leads”, thus bypassing the many other singers in their group who might be just as talented or even more talented than Troy and Gabriella. I have a real problem with the movie series constantly presenting Troy, Gabriella, Sharpay and Ryan as the only lead performer options out of a high school with surely over 1000 students. 

At least during HSM III, Kelsi seems resigned to Sharpay singing the lead and at least does not vocally object to working with her as much as she did during HSM I. (Though not without glares, pouts and eyerolls! :D) In fact, she even tells Troy that “It will be fine,” despite Troy’s evident discomfort and discouragement when performing with Sharpay, whereas in HSM I, she called Sharpay (and Ryan) “two rats, neither of them named Darbus.” (That still cracks me up!) But it’s made abundantly clear that Troy and Gabriella somehow deserve the lead roles for Kelsi’s works, and she throws her full weight behind them in support, hence her adorably enthusiastic applause after the “I Just Wanna Be With You” rehearsal. Given that Sharpay tells us that Kelsi shows blatant bias in how she allocates songs to her fellow classmates, I must wonder whether some in the Drama Department, who had been working hard at their craft long before either Troy or Gabriella showed up, might have been resentful that Kelsi, clearly conducting/directing the musical side, did not give them such preferences. Yes, that is literally a headcanon that I thought up a couple of seconds before typing those sentences. And I don’t think it’s implausible. Sharpay is clearly bothered and frustrated by Kelsi’s bias, and were she not so manipulative and unpleasant towards others, I would find her attempts to seek the best songs to be quite understandable. Ryan was bothered by Kelsi’s bias in HSM I, and in HSM II, which is he why told Sharpay “Now, it’s an amazing song, but Kelsi didn’t write it for us.” By the end of HSM II and throughout HSM III, however, Ryan has joined the Biased School Musical FanClub. 

(Although to be fair, Ryan does not bias his choreography work in Troyella’s favour. In “Night to Remember”, you can see this. And also when he gets everyone to to yoga moves before rehearsal, and then gets Jason to come act as an example. He is not territorial at all. Kelsi, on the other hand, is). 

I have condensed Kelsi’s favouritism towards Troyella into three main reasons:

Reason #1- Troyella represents the idealism in her songs

Love that lasts “forever”? Love that cannot be beaten by distance? Meeting someone and instantly knowing that they’re the one? Sounds like Troyella! Thus, even though I don’t believe that Kelsi’s songs were written about Troyella, she definitely is able to adapt them for the pair and the way they perform her songs seems credible proof to her that were she fortunate enough to have a Troyella-esque relationship, this is precisely what it would look like. I think this reason is pretty much self-explanatory, and you can revert back to my 12th instalment on Kelsi’s songs for more information on this.

Reason #2- She wants to have a Troyella-esque relationship herself

Remember when I said that Kelsi’s relationship with Jason is nothing like the relationship that she wants in her songs? (My posts are between 3000 to 5000 words long, so don’t worry if you didn’t! :D) Remember how many times I have used the word “idealism” and variations thereof? Now, that you can’t forget. However, there is a distinctive contrast here; Kelsi clearly wants something like Troyella, which she views in a surprisingly superficial manner, but she also wants attributes that befit a healthy relationship. I discussed this in the 12th instalment here when looking at “I Just Wanna Be With You” in particular. So why does she not see that Troyella would not fit this category? The answer is that she never does see this. 

I said a while back that Troy and Kelsi were not shown hanging out when not working on a musical or show, so she has no idea that offstage, things are less than golden in Paradise. I did complain in my “Questions for HSM III” Series that Kelsi took shots at Sharpay, but said nothing about Gabriella leaving without telling everyone well in advance, or even providing an apology for doing so. However, I think in retrospect that I was too harsh on Kelsi here. She had no idea that Gabriella was purposefully concealing information about her opportunity at Stanford, and only discovered this because Sharpay leaked the news. (Sharpay- “The whole school’s buzzing about it!”) And why should Kelsi object to Gabriella getting such an incredible academic opportunity? Why should she connect the dots and wonder why Gabriella hadn’t mentioned this beforehand? Furthermore, it is reasonable for Kelsi to not criticize Gabriella, given that without Gabriella’s support for the musical, she would have struggled to persuade anyone to do it at all. In fact, if she did criticize Gabriella, that would look like ingratitude. You will of course recall the almost near universal rejection of another musical until Gabriella intervened. So, in retrospect, I don’t think her saying, “If it wasn’t for Gabriella, this musical would have just been another “Sharpay Show”!” is either untrue or problematic. Of course, she was disappointed that Gabriella wouldn’t be there, but grateful that the show would go ahead in the meantime, hence why she told Troy “It will be fine.” In other words, she was willing to put her musical vision ahead of her blatant bias for once, which is actually commendable. 

Kelsi never sees tense moments between Troy and Gabriella. She wasn’t there when Gabriella cut Troy to pieces for daring to be promoted at work, she never sees Gabriella’s snide and mocking comments towards Troy, her double standards, hypocrisy and willingness to manipulate him until he yields to what she wants. Not only this, but Troy never tells anyone about this. Now obviously, the easiest counter-argument is that the script never had him do so, since he is obviously a vassal used to promote Troyella propaganda. However, even if the scriptwriters weren’t so biased, I don’t think Troy would tell anyone about these moments. Why? Because Troy’s self-esteem gradually declines throughout the movie series, and the more he becomes dependent upon Gabriella to function properly, the more shame he feels whenever his relationship doesn’t work out. When Gabriella leaves him-- twice-- he feels like a complete failure. It’s all his fault. He can’t live up to her expectations, nor those of his school. Despite Troy’s open nature, I have said here that he can be quite reserved. And I think the canon supports this. When Gabriella dumps him over the summer, Troy’s response is to hide in his room for days on end. When Gabriella leaves for California in HSM III, Troy’s response is to wander around the school rooftops, alone. When she bails on him later, his response is to drive off alone into the wilderness. Even when Kelsi gave him that SQUEE-WORTHY hug in HSM III, he never discussed his difficulties with Gabriella’s absence. In fact, contrary to my previous statements, perhaps Troy wanted to be alone then? Perhaps the Wildcats are not to blame for not coming over to comfort him. I seem to be evolving in my opinions here. And even when Kelsi tried to point out that everyone was missing Gabriella, Troy never opened up about how he felt, instead choosing to blame HIMSELF for “messing up all the songs...”

Never does he seek help from anyone else. Neither does he accept help from anyone else, or even words of reason. That’s why Chad’s insensitive, but sensible advice in HSM III goes in one ear and out the other. Throughout that scene, Troy is staring at a picture of Gabriella, a testament to how he is nearly incapable of thinking for himself by this point. That gives me the impression that he feels it’s his mess, and he alone must fix it, or else be branded as a complete and utter failure. Thus, Kelsi is largely unaware of this internal torment that Gabriella causes, and mostly only privy to the stage version of Troyella, where everything is sweetness and light. If Troy seems unlikely to confide his relationship troubles to anyone, if he considers it shameful upon himself when Gabriella leaves him, then Kelsi cannot be blamed for being somewhat unable to provide all the support that he needs when trying to heal. No other character would be able to support him either, if Troy simply cannot open up and accept that relationship problems are fine and that Gabriella is the problem. 

Another reason that Kelsi wants a Troyella-esque relationship is that she sees Troyella as fixing the deficiencies in her own relationship. The song “What I’ve Been Looking For”, as I said here, basically wants the ideal partner to make up for Kelsi’s own weaknesses. Likewise, if we take my assumptions regarding her feelings after breaking up with Jason as a theoretical basis, then it would appear that Kelsi saw Troyella’s relationship as an example of complete commitment. (Obviously, I don’t believe any of these things, but I have to see things from Kelsi’s point of view instead of just beating her over the head with my meta notes!) 

Whilst in her own relationship, Jason’s increasing emotional infidelity made her feel inadequate, she would be inspired by how much Troy clearly adored Gabriella. Whilst Jason ran off with Martha (a cheerleader) into the sunset, she would be inspired by how Troy didn’t even bat an eyelid at the myriad of other girls (cheerleaders) clamouring for his attention. She would be inspired by the displays of affection between Troy and Gabriella, comparing this in a more favourable light to her occasional struggle to get Jason interested in her rather than Martha. She would be inspired by how Troy and Gabriella expressed their commitment in music, whereas Jason definitely was not centre-stage material. (I would be VERY interested to see how Kelsi sang her songs).

Troy in particular is charming and always says the right thing, Jason is clumsy and always says the wrong thing. Gabriella is very pretty and confident, whereas Kelsi’s own confidence has diminished slightly (I assume) since her breakup. Now, this does not contradict what I said in the last instalment; Kelsi did have strong feelings for Jason and her choosing him despite his obvious faults is very significant. She did not settle. But she clearly does have an ideal, and her relationship with Jason is not that ideal. She would be reminded of this, particularly given the way it ended. So rather than Kelsi appearing envious of Troy and Gabriella per se, she is more wistful with regards to what they represent. I tend to think that Kelsi must have been fantasizing about the ideal romantic couple for YEARS before she met Troy and Gabriella; we can infer this based on the music she has been writing throughout her school years. So if it wasn’t Troy and Gabriella, another couple would become the ideal. It doesn’t have to be them, but because of her friendship with Troy, people tend to focus on her attachment to Troyella as a result. 

But neither of these two reasons are the most important reason. 

Reason #3- Kelsi supports Troyella, because it is important to Troy.

This was a “Eureka!” moment when I realized this. In fact, I’m not particularly sure why I didn’t realize this before, given that this whole series is dedicated to Trelsi! :D

So what do I mean? I’m so glad you asked. Kelsi is significantly more attached to Troy than she is to Gabriella. I personally think that Troy and Kelsi would consider each other as one of their best friends, or at least that would have become apparent had they spent more time together/received more screentime. That notwithstanding, I certainly believe that Troy was Kelsi’s first real friend, and thus her relationship with him holds a very special value in her life. I consider Troy and Kelsi’s friendship to be unique out of all relationships in the movie series; as I have said before, they both need and value something in each other and their success and evolution are irrevocably entwined with their friendship and a direct consequence of the latter. 

By contrast, Kelsi does not have such an attachment to Gabriella at all, which may sound like a contradiction, given how Kelsi idealizes Troyella. But it’s not. Actually this proves my earlier statement, that Kelsi idealizes Troyella because of what it represents relationships-wise, not because she has any particular admiration for Gabriella beyond simple friendship. Although I would add that Kelsi respects Gabriella a lot more than Gabriella respects her. That notwithstanding, Kelsi does not share the kind of affection with Gabriella that she does with Troy; this is mostly evident during HSM III when she goes out of her way to comfort Troy. Interestingly, she doesn’t ask how Gabriella is during those times. She must have assumed Gabriella was fine. Clearly, she believes that Troy is more in need of her support. (Which is true). For her, Troy is her hero, her best friend, the person who best understands her and the ideal person to perform her songs. 

Because Kelsi is one of the few people who treats Troy’s opinions with respect, it follows that she supports Troyella based on its importance to Troy. She cannot bear to see Troy upset by problems and pitfalls in his relationship, so her reaction is to offer him (and not Gabriella) sympathy, and do anything she can to fix things. It is notable that although the reunion in HSM II was planned by Ryan and Kelsi, it is Kelsi who is entrusted with helping get a beleaguered and disillusioned Troy in shape to perform “Everyday”, even though the song might have been written by Ryan. Given how closely Troy stands next to Kelsi throughout the beginning of this performance, I assume that he wouldn’t have been motivated to sing without her. We see parallel evidence of this devotion in Troy’s other relationships. Earlier in HSM II, you can vaguely see Kelsi’s shocked face when Chad and Troy have a fight in the middle of the kitchens (here in Britain, you take things outside like gentlemen! :D). Later on, she is embarrassed, disappointed and upset when the Wildcats unilaterally decide to ignore him. So what does she do? Knowing that Chad is Troy’s best friend and like a brother to him (very important, since Troy is an only child), she persuades Chad to forgive him, as well as helping bring Troy and Gabriella back together. Hence her secret little fist pumps when things are going her way. 

(Do not be fooled by Kelsi’s apparently unassuming presence; she likes things to go her way. She likes to control the show, if not necessarily desiring the centre-stage, which makes her constant mockery of Sharpay slightly hypocritical). 

And in yet another parallel, when Kelsi sees how Troy is interested showing his singing/performing talents, she is fully committed to helping him get this shot, even though he is, by all accounts, largely untested in this area. His only experience is singing in the shower and one karaoke, whereas Sharpay and Ryan have been in 17 school productions, and I suppose other members of the Drama Club are also seasoned performers. A callback does not mean that you are star material, or that you should get the lead role. But as far as Kelsi is concerned, Troy should get it, and only Troy deserves it. (Obviously Gabriella is included, but if you compare her rehearsals with Troy and with Gabriella, you can see who inspires her more). The musical becomes even more important to her because it’s important to Troy. 

So it makes complete sense to me that rather than Kelsi’s idealization of Troy and Gabriella being a frustrating crime, as I have often said beforehand, that really it is a demonstration of consideration, loyalty, respect and commitment to Troy himself. This is a more positive explanation, and I now consider it to be more plausible. It’s easy for an onlooker like myself to say, as I have said before, “Can’t she see X problem and Y problem?” She can’t, because she’s never there. And what’s more, Troy is the one who makes it abundantly clear that he wants Gabriella, that she makes him happy (even when, in fact, she doesn’t) and that he must be with her. So what choice does Kelsi have but to take him at his word? What choice does she have but to support the relationship that her best friend so clearly desires? In her mind, she’s doing this for Troy, and that is effort well-spent. Whether it’s writing her best songs for him, or interceding on his behalf, or sticking up for him when no one else will, the end goal is fine as long as it leads to Troy’s happiness. And even though we’re never shown a scene where Troy recognizes Kelsi’s role behind the scenes in helping him out with his friendships and relationships, I think Troy would deeply appreciate her support regardless. So in return, Kelsi would have no option but to feel that her support of Troyella made Troy happy, and would continue supporting them in any way she could. Remember, she is hugely inspired by Troy’s nickname for her: Playmaker. The one who makes everyone else look good. So she definitely believes that she has the power to make Troyella look good, and Troy does absolutely nothing to disabuse her of this notion. His faith in her is absolute, hence why he does things like allowing her to teach him a song in about an hour on show night and then performing it (unrealistically well). Yes, I think I’ve changed my mind somewhat. Or at least, I see where Kelsi is coming from now. I still consider her views mistaken, but far more well-intentioned than I had first believed. 

What’s even more interesting here is that should Troy gradually become disinvested in his relationship (as I believe was actually happening, not that he dared admit this), then it would be interesting to see how Kelsi would react. If she wants to support him in any way possible, then I can’t see her continuing to support a relationship that he no longer desired. But I am fully aware that Troy would need a catalyst before coming to that realization. It is worth considering, nonetheless. Obviously, as a Trelsi shipper, I believe that the more time he spent with Kelsi, the more he would come to realize that she is a superior companion for him. 

And that’s upcoming in the next part. :)

[queenofcats17]

Winter Solstice

Chise and Elias were going to a ball. Not just any ball, but a ball in Niflheim. Hel had cordially invited them, taking special care to put Chise’s name on the invitation with in her lovely hand. 

“It seems she remembers your encounter.” Elias said, looking over the invitation. Silkie was measuring Chise for a dress, despite the girl’s many protests. 

“Why do I need a special dress for this?” Chise asked as Silkie poked and prodded with pins and measuring tape. 

“It would be rude to show up in anything less than our Sunday best.” Elias said, sounding a bit offended. “Especially if we’ve been personally invited by a goddess.” As much as she hated it, Chise had to admit he had a point there. It would be rude to show up in her everyday clothes when it was a party thrown by an honest to goodness goddess. 

“I expect many important figures will be there.” Elias continued. “The Erlkonig is a friend of hers so he’ll likely be arriving, Titiania and Oberon for certain, perhaps even her father and brothers.”

“Who is the Erlkonig?” 

“A faerie of great power. However, I do not think you should be concerned by his presence. You should, however, be careful around Loki. He has a penchant for mischief that I would rather you not get caught up in.”

“Alright.” Chise smiled to herself at his worry. “You be careful too.” She was sure he was just as likely to get into some kind of trouble. It was then that they realized Silkie had moved on to Ruth, prodding him until he’d turned into his human form. 

“Ah, yes, it would be best Ruth come as well.” Elias said. 

“I don’t want to wear a suit.” Ruth said, rather matter-of-factly. 

“If I have to wear a dress, you have to wear a suit.” Chise said. “Besides, you’ll look great.”

.

Chise ended up in a simple red evening gown. Nothing too form fitting. Elias had remarked it reminded him of a red dress from a movie called Pretty Woman. Chise had then asked how he knew what that movie was and Elias had essentially gotten flustered and changed the subject. He himself wore a 19th century styled suit while Ruth went with a normal tuxedo. He hadn’t wanted anything too flashy. The three of them had been greeted at the entrance to Niflheim by a small dog that looked like a mix between a pomeranian and a husky. Chise couldn’t help but feel the dog should be a lot bigger. 

“Garm.” Elias inclined his head. 

“Thorn Lord.” A deep voice echoed out of the tiny tiny dog. Chise nearly jumped out of her skin. Ruth growled. Garm’s head snapped around and his tail wagged. 

“Friend? Dog friend!” His voice suddenly a lot higher and happier. “Sniff butt!”

“Garm!” Hel’s voice echoed out from the hall. “We do not sniff guests butts!”

“Yes mistress.” Garm’s tail drooped and his voice returned to the deep one. “My apologies. I was excited by the presence of another dog.”

“No worries. It was cute.” Chise leaned down and scratched Garm behind the ears. 

“You can pet him later.” Elias said. “We must get inside.” He ushered them in, leaving Garm to greet the other guests as they arrived. The main hall was swarming with people of all races and species. Elves, faeries, some creatures Chise had never even seen before. She spotted Hel making her way from guest to guest, greeting them and making conversation. Titania and Oberon were indeed there, off in a corner with some other faeries. Hel had just reached them and started up a conversation with Titania. Chise didn’t notice as Elias separated himself, heading for the refreshment table. 

“You’re a cutie.” Chise turned around to see a man grinning at her. He was small and a bit rat faced, with flaming red hair and the same green eyes as Hel. She could only assume that this was Loki. Ruth growled next to her. 

“Thank you.” She said, squeezing Ruth’s hand to calm him. 

“So, what’s a little human like you doing here?” Loki asked, a grin ever present on his face. “You’re not one of my little pumpkin’s wards.” She could see little scars around his mouth, as though thread had been pulled through the skin at one point. Ruth remained upset and wary. 

“I’m Elias’ apprentice.” She said, careful about her choice of words. “Hel invited us both.”

“Just Hel, huh?” Loki’s smile widened. “You must be the girl she met in the snow. She’d never let just anyone get away with calling her by her first name.”

“She didn’t tell me to call her anything else.” Chise immediately began to close herself off. “Why did you come over here?”

“I was curious about you.” Loki shrugged, his smile faded a little. “Look, I’m sorry if I freaked you out or anything. It’s been awhile since I got out.”

“Loki, you better not be bothering her!” A woman strode up to them, her arms folded. She looked like something out of a fifty’s pinup with her long honey hair and rosewood skin. She was dressed tastefully in a simple green evening gown, which complimented Loki’s green tuxedo. She made him look a little less ridiculous by association. 

“No, Sigyn, I was just saying hello.” Loki said, smiling in a tired but good-natured sort of way. 

“Well, alright then.” Sigyn held out her hand to Chise. “I’m Sigyn, Loki’s wife. It’s very nice to meet you Miss...?”

“Hatori.” Chise shook her hand. “Hatori Chise. And this is Ruth.” Up until this point, Ruth had been hiding behind her, almost becoming a shadow again. 

“Oh! You’re Elias’ apprentice! Hel has talked about you a few times.” Sigyn clapped her hands together. Chise flushed a little bit. Every supernatural creature she’d met seemed to know her. It was a little embarrassing since she knew virtually nothing about most of these people. 

“And I can only assume you’re her familiar.” Loki turned his gaze to Ruth. 

“Yes.” Ruth said. 

“You remind me of my eldest son.” Loki said. “He’s just like this with Hel. You two would probably get along pretty well.”

“Mm.” Ruth lapsed into silence, intent on staring Loki down. After a few minutes though he turned his attention back to Chise, beginning to discreetly fuss over her. 

“Yep. Just like Fen.” Loki laughed to himself. 

“It’s a shame he couldn’t make it.” Sigyn sighed. “He would have loved to see his sister. We should bring him some food after this.”

“Jorm too. Although maybe we shouldn’t wake him up. Wouldn’t want another tsunami.”

“Don’t joke about that, dear.”

“Alright.”

.

Elias stood off to the side, near the punch bowl. He thought it best to avoid Loki as soon as he saw the god darting his way through the crowd. The man always gave him a headache. 

“I apologize in advance for anything my father says.” Hel’s voice came from beside Elias, and when he turned she was standing next to him, a champagne flute held between her fingers.

“I’m sure Chise can take care of herself.” Elias turned his attention back to Chise and Loki. 

“Is that a hint of pride I detect?” Hel asked, raising an eyebrow. “My, you really do care for this girl.”

“Of course.” He took a glass and filled his with the beverage Hel had provided in the punch bowl. It turned out to be just that, punch. There was a mead bowl right next to it. The two of them made small talk for a few minutes, but Hel could tell there was something on the mage’s mind. 

“Something’s bothering you. What is it?” She asked. Elias fell silent, avoiding her gaze. 

“Would you be able to save her?” He asked, keeping his voice low. She should have known it would be that. She’d known this would come ever since she’d heard news of Chise’s illness. 

“Elias, my touch brings nothing but death.” Hel sighed. “Much as it pains me to say, I cannot give her time she does not have.”

“I had expected as much. You are nothing if not fair.”

“I take no pleasure in this, Elias. I know how much you care for each other.” Hel touched his arm gently. 

“You do not need to explain yourself to me.”

“Elias, don’t sulk.” Hel said. 

“I am not sulking.”

“Yes you are.” She pursed her lips. “You’ll find a solution, I’m certain of it.” Elias certainly didn’t feel any better though. He couldn’t lose Chise. Not now.